Monday, March 29, 2010

Rant... please disregard....

So many morons, so little time

Please, dear reader, disregard this rhyme

Compassion is a value that I strive to attain

But my grace is still limited, so I write this refrain


So many morons, I don't know where to start

Like poison in my veins, they curse my art

They who have mouths that are just too wide

Who don't know when to just keep their words inside


To be considerate, is that too much to expect?

To not open your mouth, to your own soul's regret?

How easy it is to pronounce opinions as fact

How easy for the morons is this moronic act


But what do you show when you open your jaws

That you make your pronouncements without just cause

That you simply parrot the words you have heard

No matter how illogical or how truly absurd


Lets take for example this issue of grace

To look upon the needy, hurt, crying face

And simply pronounce as the judge cruel and cold

That the fault is theirs and absolves you of what you're told


When you're told to love freely, to show grace unto all

When you're told to reach the needy and those who did fall

When you yourself have been saved from the darkest of sins

How dare you pass judgement based on one of your whims!


Another moronic acts draws painfully near

The one who gets mad and makes it all clear

Unto the world, he speaks in his malice and contempt

Laying bare before all his hatred and resent


But beneath that layer of thin guised ire

Reveals he to all that he has no desire

To learn the truth of what he's been told

That he'd rather listen to others, as long as they're old


Now no disrespect to the ancients with snow on their heads

But too many have observed the world from within their beds

Made with malice, contempt, bigotry, and lies

And have not wisdom to trade for their blind, aching eyes


Some definitly do, but some definitly do not

So age should not be where all knowledge is got

But instead in seeking out many points of view

To understand what says many, and what says few


There is wisdom in diverse council, the preacher did say

But they seek not true wisdom, they do not know her way

They walk through the streets beating their brass drum

While waving their banners to declare they are dumb


So why do I get so angry and upset

That the stupid should stupidity beget?

For know we not trees by the fruit that they bear?

So its no surprise to find moronic behaviors there...


But its that same compassion, mentioned before

That sees where they are, the road and the door

That if they'd simply walk down, and step through the gate

There wisdom, compassion, and love does await


But here I stand on the other side of that portal

Reaching out to them with my hands of vorpal

But they are so close, and yet so far away

And so on and on it goes, with each passing day


Sometimes they wander within a hairs breath of my hand

Other days they turn around, and return to darkness' land

And so I write this, to say, not judgement on their heads

But to remind myself no matter how dark they make their beds


That my compassion must endure, even if for only a day more

Because of the hope, another will come through the door.

Wisdom wanders through the streets and she cries

That she is free for all, if only he tries....




Saturday, March 27, 2010

And then...

And then the darkness came
As he stood upon the precipice
Overlooking the world
He spread his arms wide
And closed his eyes
And then the darkness came...

Thursday, March 25, 2010

The Goddess Gambit

The Goddess Gambit

Have you ever had a dream, that felt so real, that when you awoke, you felt that the dream world had been reality, and that your reality felt more as a dream? This is the story, my story, from the other reality, that is my dreams:

It was the final night of the last battle. The fires burned throughout our beloved Indara, our home. The hordes of Torin had overtaken the lower level of the city, and by noonday, the middle wall was breached as well. Fires burned throughout our homes, but we still had our lives. We fell back to the inner wall, whose green manicured lawns had not tasted the sour of war for over three-thousand years. There, where the sacred temple stood up against the mighty mountainside, we gathered before those cool marble steps that led to those hallowed bronze doors. The Lord Guard stepped forward, and ascended the stairs. Midway up, the doors began to creak open and we all bowed down, faces turned up in expectation and desperation.

They descended the steps like falling silk in the breeze, the four virgins in white gossamer, decked with bronze ornaments of office, each carrying the scepter of her goddess. Behind them came the incense bearers, holding long lanterns of bronze whose purple smoke rose to the sky. And behind them came the High Priestess, decked in her robes of gold and calendula yellow, her dark curls falling like a mantle around her face which had been painted hues of gold and bronze. She looked out from the doors over the red setting sun sky, the billowing pillars of black smoke rising to the heavens. Then she looked at him. The Lord Guard, his arm bandaged and bloody, his soldiers spent and shaken. He nodded to her. And she closed her eyes and called in her echoing sonorous voice,

“Let the people flee into the mountain caves, and let not all of the children of Indara die to save her.”a pause, “But we will not giver her up!”

And here the vestal virgins four repeated, “We will not give her up.”

“We will appeal to the Goddess to protect us!” She said opening her eyes.

“We will appeal to the Goddess to protect us.”

“We will appeal to her with our bodies!” She called, with arms outstretched to the heavens.

“We will appeal to her with our own bodies!”

“We will appeal… in her sacred flames!” She said turning and bowing towards the shrine.

“We will appeal in her sacred flames. So let it be done!” And they also turned and bowed.

And so I saw the people look with hope upon their last chance of survival, upon the five standing upon the marble stairs. And so the slow trickle began to the mountain cave openings, following the Lord Guard and incense bearers. And as they began trickling away, I returned to my guild and our master, who were readying the ancient scrolls and parchments to be carried away and saved from the on coming plundering. But as I lay my burden upon my back, the Great Recorder, my Master, came to me and drew me aside. And he spoke to me, about the need for one to remain behind, to record the acts of the enemy, and to make a record of the fall of Indara. And I knew he had selected me for this task, so I submitted to the yoke placed before me.

So, as my people went into the mountains, and fled the coming slaughter, I found an enemy tunic and donned the Torian mantel. And I went and hid myself in the shadows of the wall rubble. And there I waited as evening drew near. I waited for the hordes of Torin to come. This is my record of all I saw during the fall and sack of Indara.


* * *

It was near the midnight hour, when from my hiding place I saw movement near the temple doors. And I moved closer and there I could see now, not only the hallowed bronze doors, but beyond them, the great rotunda with its pillars of marble and it large blazing fiery altar in its bronze bowl. And between each column was a statue, two on each side, each of pure ivory. And standing before each statue was one of the four vestal priestesses, dressed in black garments of mourning. The first stepped from her place before the statue, and held forth her scepter, topped with the emblem of grain. And she spoke, loudly before the flame, repeating the chant of before.

“We will not give Indara up.” And then stabbed herself through the stomach with the sharpened, stake-like end of the scepter, and threw herself upon the flames.

I was sickened, horrified at the act, and yet, I could not look away as the next stepped forward and spoke,

“We will appeal to the Goddess to protect us.” And her scepter also flashed in the fire light, and her body also joined her sister’s.

I could not look any longer as I heard the gruesome sacrifice continue.

“We will appeal to her with out bodies.” Wet, sickening stab. Thudding body with crackling flames.

“We will appeal on her sacred flames.” And it was over.

I turned then to look, and beheld beyond the fire, the most holy image of all, that of the Great Goddess, carved from purest gold, eyes ablaze in the fire light, as if invigorated by the blood of her sacrifices. And then I saw the dark shadow between the statue and fire stand up. It was the High Priestess. She stood and spoke hauntingly.

“We will not give Indara up.”

And began walking around the fire.

“We will appeal to the Goddess to protect us. With our bodies we will appeal her.”

And as she reached the other side she looked out, and her eyes met mine, and she spoke,

“We will appeal on her sacred flames. So let it be done!” And pulled the bronze doors back in, their weight swinging back and shut with force. Then the sound of a mighty bolt falling echoed around the temple area. I slid back to my hiding place and awaited the hordes of Torin, noticing the moon fall behind clouds, clothing the night with deepest darkness.

* * *

It was just before sunrise that the horde of Torin breached the last wall and broke like the waves of a dam upon the sacred courtyard and meadow before the temple. They roared like many waters as they poured forth, but stopped just as suddenly. I watched as their war cry died to a haunted silence. All were quite in the tense nervousness of the unexpected emptiness. As the men stood in the eerie silence, a single cry of victory erupted from their ranks, which then cascaded into loud shouts of celebration. They began breaking away in groups, plundering the rich pilgrim shrines and so I was able to slip into the mulling bodies unnoticed, and began making my way to the front where two figures stood out over the rest upon the steps of the temple. As I drew near I hear them speaking.

“An easy victory, drink up Captain, you did well today.” Spoke the older, fat man.

“It was too easy a victory, and may still turn against us. General, perhaps we should not desecrate their shrines so. Perhaps their gods may smite us in their anger.” Said the younger captain.

“Hmph! If theirs gods did not protect them from our army, there is precious little they can do to us. You men! Gather a regiment or two and get those doors open! Come now, Captain of the Hosts, you should enjoy your victory today. Have some celebratory wine!” And the General then proceeded to lap down more of the wine.

As I drew closer to the two men speaking, I saw more than a score of soldiers begin pulling at the doors and ramming them with broken beams. Their work was short and soon the sacred bronze doors fell back under their assault. The morning sun had risen sharp and crisp behind us, and suddenly contrasted much with the dank pool of shade that was the inner sanctum of the temple. I joined the group of apprehensive soldiers at the door, as the Captain and General stepped forth and entered.

The interior of the rotunda was completely dark, save for the shaft of light that came from the doorway and fell across the floor to meet the second shaft of white, eerie light that fell from the oculus upon the black charred sacrificial bowl. The air was cool, and blue smoke hung like water around the empty chamber. A haunting dripping sound echoed within the darkness. In the haziness, the Captain walked forward and examined the contents of the bowl.

“Human. They must have been sacrificed to prevent our victory.” He spoke quietly.

“Hmph! What savagery! You see. This is why we conquered their city. And why we get to enjoy the spoils of war.” The General spoke nearly licking his lips at the sight of the four ivory statues.

“Hmmm.” The Captain said as he began examining the various ivory goddesses. "Wheat sheaves... must have been a grain goddess. And here. Bees and honey combs with this one."

"I don't care what type of goddess they are, they will all make impressive additions to my victory march in Torin." spoke the General as the Captain continued.

"This one has some kind of vineing plant around her arms, with small fruits. And the other has a sundial... purhaps a goddess of time?"

Then our party had reached the other side of dark rotunda. There the dripping sound grew louder. The Captain and General both saw it at the same time.

"Torin preserve us. What is that!?!" spoke the General.

"Wheat. Honey. Time.... and Hops. They worshiped a Great Goddess of Beer." said the Captain as he held a torch up to the gleaming golden idol, its four arms each supporting an amphora, crowned with a wreathe of wilted hops flowers, red ruby eyes blazing with indignation.

"You idiot! Its solid gold! Thats whats more important!!!!" called the General licking his lips with greed. "This will be the center piece of our triumphant return! The crown jewel of our five years of campaigning."

As if hearing them, there was a popping sound and suddenly amber-gold liquid began pouring from the navel of the statue. Everyone fell back, some soldiers bowing, a few running from the chamber. Then like frightened animals, they drew near again and inspected the liquid.

"It smells like..."the Captain began.

"Beer! Hmph! You there. Soldier!" the General said pointing in my direction.

The soldier beside me and I both pointed at ourselves questioningly.

"No, you on the left! Here, drink!" he said, letting a nearby bowl fill and handing it to the one next to me.

He drank, while we all watched him with anticipation, waiting to see if he would suddenly start convulsing or show some other symptom of being poisoned. But nothing happened.

"Its good." he spoke.

"This statue is obvisouly miraculous. It should be taken to our temple complex in Raza." The General called with sudden reverence as he himself also drew a bowl and drank of the golden fluid.

But just as he spoke the words, the flow suddenly stopped. This seemed to surprise all even more then when it had started. The captain threw his bowl down and grabbed the statue shaking it by its shoulders as he yelled, "Whaat happened?!?! Why did you stop!?! You are suppose to be my crown jewel of success!!!!"

"Purhaps the Goddess does not want to go to Raza." spoke the Captain, and the flow started again at his words.

"Hmph! Well then, where does it want to go?" spoke the General venomously.

The flow stopped again as the General began calling out name after name. When he finally said Torin, it started again.

"Torin it is." said the Captain.

They announced the news to the soldiers later, and it was met with cheers of joy. The tired soldiers had not been home for five years. And when they returned they would be the conquering heroes. That night, lots were drawn to see who would remain behind in Indara. Since the vanquished city was now empty, most could not wait to return and claim the rewards of being victors. And so only a small regement were left behind the next moring when we sailed away on the ships with the dark red sails, to the city of Torin.

* * *

Torin begins right at the coast of the bay, and spreads out like blood from there, the red painted houses and towers rising slowly to the highlands of the hills serrounding the city. White flags and flowers drapped the pink sandstone buildings and red tile roofs as the victory celebrations began. I had sneaked aboard the ship of the General and been assigned guard duty at his villa when we reached the city. His villa was located upon a terrace of the upper city wall, and had a high bridge running down from it to the villas of his three Captains.

All day long the feasting, singing, dancing, sacrifices, games, and tournaments continued. The people rejoiced greatly, all the more when the statue of the Goddess was brought forth, dressed in bridal rainment and led to the Temple of their God, where it was left to be ravish by the God of Torin. The General did not even care that the flow had stopped. It was worth it. The ultimate humiliation to the people of Indara, their eternal foes.

When night had come, the strong drinks were brought out as the entertainers began, and the large bonfires were lit in the golden couldrons all across the city. The pinkish hues seemed to fade into tan sand colour all around in the flicker flame lights that cascaded off the gold. And it was during this that all the people grew tired off of the wine and strong drink. So, while some continued making merry, the General retired to his villa, and I went along with his whole household.

It was the last watch of the night. The clouds were gone and a solitary moon hung over Torin like a beacon of ill will, a final last warning with its pale, spectral light. But Torin was too drunk off of its victory to see it. I passed through the house of the General like a wraith, walking quietly as I moved from room to room. Then, I reached the walkway to the General's own room. The walkway was another highbridge, with pillars supporting the roof, the evening air flowing between them lazily. I looked out from there and beheld the whole of Torin before me, and the sea before it.

A mist had gathered upon the waters and moved towards the city. It slithered like a snake over the walls and between the timbers of the door and cracks of the stones. It covered the entire city, and like a lapping wave, moved up towards the wall, where the villa was. I know not why, but I feared to face the mist, and so entered the room of the General. And there, in the stifling darkness, I thought I saw movement by the window. So I moved into a nook behind the door and watched.

The window flew open, the cool night air filling the room, while the curtains billowed out, allowing the haunting moonlight to fall upon the sleeping figure alone on the bed. Then the mist crested the lip of the window and flowed over it like water, covering the floor, while the scent of hops filled the air. And I saw a shadow in the mist rise up, and quaked with fear at what I saw.

It was her. The Goddess. She had come to life. She had only her two arms, and she did not seem quite as tall, but the severity of her gaze was precise. She stood at the foot of the bed and glided through the mist like a skiff on the water, till she was beside the sleeping head. Then she bend down and spoke in her sanorous voice, "Foul and wicked man. Your stench is an offence to humanity. You desicrated my altars. Now you and your entire city shall pay the price of your sacralige!"

And from the folds of her golden robe, she drew a copper blade, which gleamed in the icy cold moon light before burrying itself in his chest. It flashed twice more, while the General only had enough time to twitch once before it was over. Blood soaked into the grey woolen sheets of the bed. Then she rose her head, the mantel of dark curles falling back as her blood splattered face looked up. For a moment I thought she saw me, but then she turned and quickly slid from the room.

I stood in shock, looking at the dead figure on the bed. Then realization struck and I quickly jumped to my feet and followed the figure from afar. It was not hard to find her. I simply followed the path of dead sentries and blood. Soon I saw her walking between the highbride leading to the Captains' villas. I ran to catch up to her. She was moving on to the second villa when I made it to the first, all inside were killed by the copper blade of her vengence.

I took the path around the second villa and crept to the last. There, I waited till she entered and followed behind her in the shadows as she made work of all the sentries again. The stench of blood was horrible and mixed with her smell of hops. Then she went to the last Captains bed. He slept there, with his wife next to him and three small bundles between them, all breathing deeply. His family. Then she drew near and I held my breath in fear of what was to come.

But there was no gleam of the knife. Instead she pulled a bundle from beneath her robe and set it at the foot of the bed, then bent her face beside the Captain's ear and spoke, "Since you alone apposed the sack of my sanctuary, I have decided to spare you and your family. Tonight your city will fall and all the people in it will die. Leave when you awaken and don the Indarian cloaks at the foot of your bed. Leave all of your Torian clothes behind. They will only be a deathmark to you."

Then she left and I followed her, but not before closing the door hard enough for the Captain to awake. As I continued behind her, watching her slay the remaining sentries upon the walls, most of whom were inebriated anyway, I saw the coming sun barely blushing the night sky with the faintest of light blue. Once the sentries were all gone, she made her way to the great doors of Torin, and threw them open. Outside, she gave a whistle. Then the entire fogbank lit with thousands of lights.

The troops of Indara had not perished in the mountain caves but had went through the mountains to the otherside and marched across the plains to Torin. And now, the door was open, the sentries were dead, and there would be blood in Torin before the sunrise.

I withdrew in hiding once more, shed my Torian cloak and retreated to the wall where I began recording all I had seen that night, while the shrieks and cries began. Soon the low wail of the dying filled the air, then all was silent as the red sun burned the skies. In a single night, all of Torin fell to the blade of Indara.

* * *

As the celebrations continued and the people began carrying away their spoils, I went to deliver my completed record to my Master. But as I drew near, climbing over a segment of fallen wall, I saw the Lord-Guard walk towards the courtyard of the Temple of Torin's God. And so I walked to the doorway of the courtyard, and peaked in the chink in the door.

There in the bough covered courtyard of laid stone, the Lord-Guard walked towards the Temple doors, which stood open and ajar, one hanging upon a single hinge. Slain priest littered the ground, and the streaks of blood where bodies had been dragged away to be pilaged criss crossed the courtyard. Then I saw her come out of the darkened Temple.

It was the Goddess, who I now knew as the Priestess. She walked to the Lord-Guard and I heard their words echoing around the enclosed space.

"The plan worked." He spoke.

"Of course my plan worked." She answered in her sanorous voice. "I knew they could not resist such a treasure as the idol. But next time do not fill it up as high. You nearly drowned me in beer, and I had to let some drip out between my fingers as I held the hole in the navel shut, just so I could breathe."

"But it was all worth it. All of Torin has been slain. Our people have won. We will finally know peace. Not a single person from Torin survived to take revenge on our city. Right?" He said.

"Yes. I took care of everything. Well, almost." she said, and once more looked up from between her mantle of dark curles and straight into my eyes peaking through the chink, as if she saw me. "There is just one more loose end to take care of..."

Sunday, March 21, 2010

My Trilogy

So, a while back I started work on a short story. The short story became a long story, the long story became a novella, and then the novella brought forth two more novellas to form a trilogy. This is how my Lord of the Mists Series was born. The first story in the series spans three books, and I have posted them all on a differnt blog. Now, I have finally decided to share the blog url, in honor of St. Patricks Day, since the story takes place in Ireland. Enjoy and please comment. Thanks.

http://omniapium.wordpress.com/



Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Tersian drops fall tonight
not upon the statue mask
Tersian drops bleed tonight
and cannot, will not stop
A thing called bitter taste has crawled up
bitter taste has crawled in my mouth
Down it went and devoured my heart
leaving tattered paper shreds
Then made it roost in my very bowels
coiled together in my stomach-on fire
And there it began to breed it's ilk
Breaking down my will, my power
Many trees are planted in my garden
Some were brought in, others were taken
Some lost, some sacrificed for greater ends
But now an earthquake shakes the ground
And would uproot each tree found here
Now all are left unstable and slanted
and so from Memory, who recalls their former forms
Tersian drops fall tonight

Sunday, March 14, 2010

The Ballad of Charlie Dare

There once was a boy named Charlie Dare, who had a head of bright red hair. And little Charlie Dare lived in the village, fair, of St.Bonfice-upon-Clair. And when he was young and just a wee lad his mother would scold him as she washes his ears red, "Now listen here, young Charlie, dear, do not go into the wood, cause you know that you shouldn't, otherwise you'll end up dead." Then every night during the ardious bath, young Charlie would have to ask, "But Mama, what makes you fear the wood so? Why should I avoid it, why shant I go?" And his mother would then grow omnious and say in her voice so grave, "The men in the trees are more than mere knaves. Because they lie in wait in the shade, and when they see young children wandering far, they call to them thar, and if the children go where they're bade... well, naught is seen of them again. So no more playing by the stream with your little ball, no more wandering over it to the waterfall. And next time run when ye hear me call. Cause if ye dont a spanking will wait for ye then."

So it happend one day as Charlie Dare, played by the small stream of the river Clair, that his ball bounced out of his reach, and fell to the other side of the pebbly beach. And he thought not of his mother's words, and began to play by those dire woods. And that same fickle ball pulled by some evil power, moved ever closer to the oaken bower. Till little Charlie Dare was beneath the tree shade, just as the noon light began to fade. And soon his way was lost in the wood, and he walked in circles clutching his ball. The trees and the shadows grew ever closer, and he could no more here his Mama's call.

And there in the woods, Charlie Dare found a grove, of tall, magnificent oak. And they seemed to shimer and shine in the light, like some ancient eleven folk. And beneath these trees there lay all maner of animals around, and in their branches all kind of birds did abound. But as he moved closer he heard a strange sound. Like breathing from the trees, near the seething of the greeves, he heard a strange and unearthly release, as if ancient bark relax to take its eaze. The creaking, croaking, breathing, breaking, snatching, snipping, that broke from tree after tree. And Charlie Dare then heard behind him a voice as deep as the earth and as strong as the soil.

"Helloo, young lad. What are you doing in my forest?"

The young one turned with fright and fear, but found that the owner of the voice had disappeared. Then spoke he into the gloomy air, "Who makes that voice? Who goes there?"

A low chortle like the wind in the leaves answered the voice with ease, "What funny way to speak. Do you always rhyme like that?"

"Whose there? Who laughs at my words? Am I hearing voices from the trees? No, don't be absurd."

Then from behind the boy, a tree gave a low creak, and opened up as a birds beak, and within the folds of the hard bark, there was made a hole into the tree's heart. and there in the darkness of the empty hallow shell, there just faintly the figure of a man Charlie could tell.

"Sir, if you please? How come you into the tree? Did you get stuck within the log? Or are you some kind of bogey or bog?"

"Niether. Its been a long time, so very long since I came into my tree. I can't remember anymore. Maybe I was betrayed by close friends and left here in the tree to rot. Or maybe I betrayed close friends and came here to die insteead. I don't know anymore. All I know is the ever beating sound of the growing trees. Their persistant laughing leaves that never end. Its a lonely life hiding inside a shell of a tree."

"Why don't you come out, sir? The weather is quite agreeable for one to stir."

"You might think so, but its so cold. So very cold. The ice of winter has come into my bones. Now that I think about it, it must have been a betrayal of friendship that placed me here. Nothing else can chill the soul so deep to its bones."

"Pardon me for asking if you please, how long have you been stuck in your tree?"

"Long enough. Long enough to know the stifiling smell of rotting death that my dark prison is rank with. Long enough to know that if I remain hidden here in the tree, I will soon perish. The leaves catch all the light, no matter the season, and cascades it down to the other trees. I receive none. I am left to freeze. The branches are far and spread wide, providing many a home for many a bird, at the cost of my own arms. The dark canopy my tree-shell makes is a home for all the creatures of the forest. At least in my anguish others are satisfied."

"But what about your self? What about your own needs? You'll die if you remain in that shell!"

"Hmmm. Hahaha. Gave up the rhyming have you? You are still young. Carry your joy while you can. Soon. Someday all too soon you will also trust in someone you should not, and will find your own tree to crawl into. And there in the darkness of your arboral home, you'll feel winter bleeding into your veins as well, and seep into your heart and turn it to stone. There is no escaping it. Look around. There are so many others. This entire forest.There is no preventing it. Except in this. Avoid the heartbreak. Avoid the pain. Climb into your tree now. Look, we have one made ready for you Charlie Dare."

"Wait." He then responded with sudden dread, "How did you know my name? How did you make me forget? My Mama warned me about you men of the trees, and I was foolish and have bantered words and played with these. But now I see you'd take my soul from my very breast, no thank you sir, I believe my Mama knows best."

And with that the young lad set off at a brisk pace, running towards the river he could now see, with all haste. And he crossed the stream before the sun's last ray. And made it home in time for washing, eating, and before bed to pray. And so that was the day that Charlie Dare, the young boy with the red hair, learned what lay beyond the river in the woods there, there by the small town of St. Bonifice-upon-Clair.