The announcer calls out, "And in the Red corner, straight from the swamps of deceit, riddled with bug infested hair, wearing eons old clothes, Miss Whale Swamp Sow! She's known for her lying uppercuts and fabricated logic! Her only passion -- to rule the ring."
The audience, caught in the enthusiasm of the announcer's voice, clapped politely with a few leering cat-calls. Meanwhile, Miss Whale looked around with a half smile, eyes piercing through the air as if trying to find her foe.
Allowing the applause to die down naturally, which didn't take long, the announcer continued his introductions, "And in the Green corner, already dazzled by previous battles in a resistance, standing a lean foot and a half over his opponent, always faithful and loyal -- The Magical Elf-Witch!"
The hall shook from the roar that came from the audience.
Without waiting, which would have wasted much time, the announcer began setting the parameters of the fight. "This will be a fast one! One round, six minutes, and hopefully we'll see a knockout!" More applause as several groups began chanting "Elf-Witch!" at the top of their lungs.
But in the ring, Miss Whale and the Elf-Witch were in perfect silence, staring at each other with malice and strength. There was more behind this fight than the friendly competition of most fights; these two called each other Nemesis.
The bell rang before either one was ready, but they vaulted for each other regardless. The clatter of bone against fat was resounding in a dull thud and the hall grew a little quieter as the opponents struggled together. Fists were thrown and missed, the air was sprayed with sweat and spit. Each landed their fair share of blows, swelling and bruising the other.
And then a bright flash sent Miss Whale stumbling backwards, her eyes stunned into a mad dash of blinking to rid her sight of the spots that appeared magically. While she recovered, Miss Whale let out a echoing bellow of guttural disdain. She flopped her gelatinous form onto the rink and sent waves of floor everywhere.
The Elf-Witch, his lithe and agile feet ready for such a desperate attack, nimbly rolled with the waves. Still he attacked with a poised energy, mythical in its retelling.
Within four minutes, Miss Whale Swamp Sow was flat on her back, slow and ragged breaths heaving her form up and down as her mouth hung open. The announcer took over the scene faster than the audience could realize.
"And the winner is the Magical Elf-Witch! What an amazing fight!"
The medics took twenty minutes to recover Miss Whale's attention and cart her off to the back corridors of the East wing. She never fought again.
(To those of you who might realize what is going on in my life, this is an allegory directed at me and one other. Hopefully the real end to the story will be as finite as this one, as my Nemesis will supposedly be moving in due time.)
Monday, May 10, 2010
May 10, 2010
I sat outside and watched
the busy life of humanity
swirling in every direction
singularly and together.
Alone within the rules;
even outside the cage
Nature's breeze forgets
to Touch their gentle minds.
Spring's humid touch
opens nostrils to a clean
air purified of the fervent
chill lingering in the shade.
Green skyscrapers are "forgot!"
in cars traveling the gray road.
Black tar pummeling senses
numbed by electric screens.
The feel of grass and twig
buried beneath the souls
calloused by hands they thrust.
Watching is all I have.
the busy life of humanity
swirling in every direction
singularly and together.
Alone within the rules;
even outside the cage
Nature's breeze forgets
to Touch their gentle minds.
Spring's humid touch
opens nostrils to a clean
air purified of the fervent
chill lingering in the shade.
Green skyscrapers are "forgot!"
in cars traveling the gray road.
Black tar pummeling senses
numbed by electric screens.
The feel of grass and twig
buried beneath the souls
calloused by hands they thrust.
Watching is all I have.
Blurring Buzz
Hello. I know you can hear. You do, but I won't dare have you acknowledge the truth that stands where you sit. Lie down on gentle noise, washing and rushing and muffling and stinging like the ocean. Blanket those fears -- No! thoughts -- in a swirl of fog. Dream in wisps lost because of concentration. Go survive in a world of molasses. Go!
...
...
...
Goodbye...
...
...
...
Goodbye...
The Wearing Day
Tick
Toc
Tick
Toc
The time ticks
it tocs
We tick with the constant motion
We talk of better ways.
Ticking gently pushes eyes "forward" to an ever narrowing field of view,
the stalking openness prevents the freedom to feel obliged.
As the hands of the day tick faster with the sun climbing over the sky ever onward to the west where mountains lie
the feet drag with thick stocks growing to reach the heavens with open leaves glowing bright.
The tick is right, only doubtful in a dream.
The toc is left to fend for itself.
The tick is first and always last.
The toc is last before the mind.
The time ticks on
it tocs of truth.
Tick
toc
Tick
Toc
Tick
Toc
The time ticks
it tocs
We tick with the constant motion
We talk of better ways.
Ticking gently pushes eyes "forward" to an ever narrowing field of view,
the stalking openness prevents the freedom to feel obliged.
As the hands of the day tick faster with the sun climbing over the sky ever onward to the west where mountains lie
the feet drag with thick stocks growing to reach the heavens with open leaves glowing bright.
The tick is right, only doubtful in a dream.
The toc is left to fend for itself.
The tick is first and always last.
The toc is last before the mind.
The time ticks on
it tocs of truth.
Tick
toc
Tick
Mother's Day
The power of three,
the three by three;
Faces of the Goddess shine on me.
One.
Old and fair whose life has come
beyond the wisdom
sought by none.
Two.
Wise beyond the shadowed leaves
a world of conscience
she no longer heaves.
Three.
Joyful youth lost only to sight
Innocence biased, play
regardless the height.
Three faces to me
the mothers I see
Goddess incarnate the power of three.
the three by three;
Faces of the Goddess shine on me.
One.
Old and fair whose life has come
beyond the wisdom
sought by none.
Two.
Wise beyond the shadowed leaves
a world of conscience
she no longer heaves.
Three.
Joyful youth lost only to sight
Innocence biased, play
regardless the height.
Three faces to me
the mothers I see
Goddess incarnate the power of three.
Recovering
Recovery
Sounds so odd to say it. Recovery. Especially after so many experiences wrought with anger and suffering through stress and tears. Recovery. Not to mention the fear. It also brings peace in some strange fashion; smoothing the surface to hide the damage of the past, hoping for a joyous return that was missed to begin with. How can all of it possibly return to a state of normality after the treasures were ripped away without remorse or morals. Well, perhaps they thought their morals were being judged by an ethical standpoint from higher powers manipulating regulations to ensure a specific outcome whereby damaging several people's survival.
I'm in peace.
Even that statement feels like a load of shit. There's no peace while I feel such... dislike, if not hatred. No, hatred gives them too much power over me; move than their obvious monetary stronghold on my soul. But I can say I'm in recovery. And that where I am is still a touchy thought. Loyalty begs me leave. Loyalty exists not where I am. Loyalty to myself tells me to try. Thus staying feels disloyal and right.
I despise the situation.
Step one achieved.
I'm truly happy with my life and can overcome this dissension in emotions.
Step two?
I commit to surviving and striving for a better environment.
Step three.
I will be honest with myself and the people who I interact with. Honest with a sense of respect and dignity that these circumstances warrant despite the tumultuous events which shaped this outcome. All they need do is ask.
Recovery.
Sounds so odd to say it. Recovery. Especially after so many experiences wrought with anger and suffering through stress and tears. Recovery. Not to mention the fear. It also brings peace in some strange fashion; smoothing the surface to hide the damage of the past, hoping for a joyous return that was missed to begin with. How can all of it possibly return to a state of normality after the treasures were ripped away without remorse or morals. Well, perhaps they thought their morals were being judged by an ethical standpoint from higher powers manipulating regulations to ensure a specific outcome whereby damaging several people's survival.
I'm in peace.
Even that statement feels like a load of shit. There's no peace while I feel such... dislike, if not hatred. No, hatred gives them too much power over me; move than their obvious monetary stronghold on my soul. But I can say I'm in recovery. And that where I am is still a touchy thought. Loyalty begs me leave. Loyalty exists not where I am. Loyalty to myself tells me to try. Thus staying feels disloyal and right.
I despise the situation.
Step one achieved.
I'm truly happy with my life and can overcome this dissension in emotions.
Step two?
I commit to surviving and striving for a better environment.
Step three.
I will be honest with myself and the people who I interact with. Honest with a sense of respect and dignity that these circumstances warrant despite the tumultuous events which shaped this outcome. All they need do is ask.
Recovery.
Getting Over It
The world feels like a dream where everything exists miles away but you're still able to touch it, hold and lift it. Thoughts feel sluggish even though they keep pace with the ticking of the clock. One by one the moments fly by in eons, and before you know it the dawn has gone past the time between the dog and the werewolf. But the permeating affliction of sleepless nights holds even more firmly to he body in a muffled cry of cold. Still you must trudge on, voice harsh with the remnants of ailment. Hide what has become and hope you're getting well; fight the molasses of sand and succeed in living. There isn't time to rest with the stars, no time to howl at the moon, no time to shiver in the dark. There's no time for sickness to win in the West. The show must go on.
Monday, May 3, 2010
A Rightly Due Apology
To my Faithful Readers;
I am sorry.
These absences I transpire, despite my fervent desire to neglect such grievous states, are but my own fault. The situations I find myself in seem to bear down upon me more than my mind can handle, at times. As life stands now, finals week is upon me and I have a cold. Dreadful timing if you ask me. However, the haze that spreads across my mind from time to time, as time is the fact of import in this circumstance, I have realized inspiration and direction once more.
Thus the load of creations so hastily displayed here on the blog.
For you, my Faithful Readers, I must recommit a promise that I shall keep: for each month there shall be as many blogs as days; and of these there shall be one installment of "The Changed Earth" per week!
And as I commit, I make a request of you: please help to assure my inspiration! Donate ideas, make requests, and give suggestions. And if you see me slacking, LET ME KNOW! Yell at me on Facebook, find me at work, post a comment on my blog.
I know I'm not perfect, but I strive to keep my commitments. I hope you accept my apology and are looking forward to wonderful things to come on my blog!
Peace and Love!
J Hart F
I am sorry.
These absences I transpire, despite my fervent desire to neglect such grievous states, are but my own fault. The situations I find myself in seem to bear down upon me more than my mind can handle, at times. As life stands now, finals week is upon me and I have a cold. Dreadful timing if you ask me. However, the haze that spreads across my mind from time to time, as time is the fact of import in this circumstance, I have realized inspiration and direction once more.
Thus the load of creations so hastily displayed here on the blog.
For you, my Faithful Readers, I must recommit a promise that I shall keep: for each month there shall be as many blogs as days; and of these there shall be one installment of "The Changed Earth" per week!
And as I commit, I make a request of you: please help to assure my inspiration! Donate ideas, make requests, and give suggestions. And if you see me slacking, LET ME KNOW! Yell at me on Facebook, find me at work, post a comment on my blog.
I know I'm not perfect, but I strive to keep my commitments. I hope you accept my apology and are looking forward to wonderful things to come on my blog!
Peace and Love!
J Hart F
My New Affinity
Well, as one of my dearest friends would despise me for saying, I have acquired a new appreciation for a wondrous poet: Emily Dickinson. As I'm reading through her complete collection of poems (Yes, all 1775 of them... That's a lot) I am finding something within me that is growing even stronger.
My love of Language!
It's so delicate, so simple, and vastly indifferent until we place the tongue into a context that is created of ourselves with the filter of society. Blasted society, with its ever expansive rules and morals... it harms our view. But this is something Emily Dickinson seems to have understood much better than most people give her credit for. My favorite poem of her collection so far (and I must admit I've only read maybe 9 of her poems... but this one hit me to the core for some reason... subconsciously it appears):
My love of Language!
It's so delicate, so simple, and vastly indifferent until we place the tongue into a context that is created of ourselves with the filter of society. Blasted society, with its ever expansive rules and morals... it harms our view. But this is something Emily Dickinson seems to have understood much better than most people give her credit for. My favorite poem of her collection so far (and I must admit I've only read maybe 9 of her poems... but this one hit me to the core for some reason... subconsciously it appears):
4
(c. 1853)
On this wondrous sea
Sailing silently,
Ho! Pilot, ho!
Knowest thou the shore
Where no breakers roar -
Where the storm is o'er?
In the peaceful west
Many the sails at rest -
The anchors fast -
Thither I pilot thee -
Land Ho! Eternity!
Ashore at last!
(c. 1853)
On this wondrous sea
Sailing silently,
Ho! Pilot, ho!
Knowest thou the shore
Where no breakers roar -
Where the storm is o'er?
In the peaceful west
Many the sails at rest -
The anchors fast -
Thither I pilot thee -
Land Ho! Eternity!
Ashore at last!
I'm not going to pretend I have any inclination of what this poem means beneath the surface yet. The choices and intricacies are far beyond my newly acquired (or rather: budding and growing) literary skills; but my initial reaction is of some sense of happiness. A starting anew after being lost perhaps. Lost from what? I can't say? And why the illusion of sea and ships? Can't quite say yet.
But that's the point! It's so much more profound to me that I know there is something beneath this that I cannot grasp, though I understand the words and their meanings, that makes me LOVE this poem and Emily Dickinson all the more! I can only hope to write with some semblance of depth like hers.
I'm positive you all will be seeing more of her poetry and my reactions to it on my blog as we progress through time, for certainly her influences will appear in subtle allusions in many of my writings. As any writer must undoubtedly do at some point: make allusions to great writers of the past in hopes their power will flow forth from the new words.
But that's the point! It's so much more profound to me that I know there is something beneath this that I cannot grasp, though I understand the words and their meanings, that makes me LOVE this poem and Emily Dickinson all the more! I can only hope to write with some semblance of depth like hers.
I'm positive you all will be seeing more of her poetry and my reactions to it on my blog as we progress through time, for certainly her influences will appear in subtle allusions in many of my writings. As any writer must undoubtedly do at some point: make allusions to great writers of the past in hopes their power will flow forth from the new words.
Trigonometry Inspirationals
Mathematics allows for the complex to be unreal, imaginary or simply impossible. 'i' for example is the square root of -1, which cannot exist but does. It's existence is contingent on me writing, thinking about or working with it. Sure mathematically it does not exist because the variable of the square root of -1 does not compute in any equation other than Euler's Formula (which I still don't fully comprehend).
If the two universal languages are Math and Music, it seems these both harbor universal truths. Math allows for the implementation of imaginary numbers to produce real numbers which work in the real world. Simple enough, right? Well how does this relate to the world we live in? What 'complex' or 'imaginary' occurrences help connect two thoughts, events, or realities in a workable and realistic manner?
One which I cling to is magic. True magic which may seem lost but exists to believers; not that 'hocus-pocus' magic magic we see on TV or at shows. magic is explainable within a frame of reality that exists in 'otherness' or 'imagination'. Therefore, it is 'complex' or, to use the mathematical terminology, 'imaginary.' Remember, the square root of -1 is a usable, substantially important number (imaginary yet real) that allows for real numbers to occur. Then Magic is a usable, substantially important thing that allows for reality to occur.
In the same breath, I think of God. Perhaps I say 'God,' but I'm using this word to invoke a greater sense of Divinity which exists for all peoples and religions. All people literally meaning ALL PEOPLE. This Divinity may be the simplest example of scientific fact (as the Earth is round) to the most complex idea (atoms are made of yet even smaller particles we will never see with the naked eye); however it does include Deities of every religious background. Divinity may be consciousness, God, Goddess, Gaia or merely the Sun. Lets allow God to symbolize all these things. God is not provable without doubt; we have not seen God (aside from the Sun for those who believe thus). However, this God is used to explain the existence of many things. Is it not a 'complex' idea which creates a real answer? Then, using mathematical terminology, is it not an 'imaginary' value which sustains reality as we see it? (Don't take me wrong, I believe in the existence of Divinity, God, Goddess, etc., as a fact for all who believe; as I surely believe. I'm just thinking openly and freely.)
But then we must look at reality. Is 'reality' as a word indicative of a substantiated, tangible object? Or is it a complexity to explain the existence of the individual and unique thoughts we have? And if this is the case, can we not add even more complex existences to influence the perception we have over the dominion we are given? Whereby altering what we KNOW is reality to be something different? Ok... Now I'm just imagining a different reality in which I'm not thoroughly convinced is even possible.
Perhaps these thoughts are better had by the enlightened. I certainly don't feel enlightened for thinking about them, that's for sure. But it feels like a truth that I cannot shake. If mathematics is so precise, yet it contains these imaginary/complex numbers in its arsenal, then why is the perceived reality any different? Or is it even any different than the math we so futilely cling to as the foundation for this reality?
Here I go again...
If the two universal languages are Math and Music, it seems these both harbor universal truths. Math allows for the implementation of imaginary numbers to produce real numbers which work in the real world. Simple enough, right? Well how does this relate to the world we live in? What 'complex' or 'imaginary' occurrences help connect two thoughts, events, or realities in a workable and realistic manner?
One which I cling to is magic. True magic which may seem lost but exists to believers; not that 'hocus-pocus' magic magic we see on TV or at shows. magic is explainable within a frame of reality that exists in 'otherness' or 'imagination'. Therefore, it is 'complex' or, to use the mathematical terminology, 'imaginary.' Remember, the square root of -1 is a usable, substantially important number (imaginary yet real) that allows for real numbers to occur. Then Magic is a usable, substantially important thing that allows for reality to occur.
In the same breath, I think of God. Perhaps I say 'God,' but I'm using this word to invoke a greater sense of Divinity which exists for all peoples and religions. All people literally meaning ALL PEOPLE. This Divinity may be the simplest example of scientific fact (as the Earth is round) to the most complex idea (atoms are made of yet even smaller particles we will never see with the naked eye); however it does include Deities of every religious background. Divinity may be consciousness, God, Goddess, Gaia or merely the Sun. Lets allow God to symbolize all these things. God is not provable without doubt; we have not seen God (aside from the Sun for those who believe thus). However, this God is used to explain the existence of many things. Is it not a 'complex' idea which creates a real answer? Then, using mathematical terminology, is it not an 'imaginary' value which sustains reality as we see it? (Don't take me wrong, I believe in the existence of Divinity, God, Goddess, etc., as a fact for all who believe; as I surely believe. I'm just thinking openly and freely.)
But then we must look at reality. Is 'reality' as a word indicative of a substantiated, tangible object? Or is it a complexity to explain the existence of the individual and unique thoughts we have? And if this is the case, can we not add even more complex existences to influence the perception we have over the dominion we are given? Whereby altering what we KNOW is reality to be something different? Ok... Now I'm just imagining a different reality in which I'm not thoroughly convinced is even possible.
Perhaps these thoughts are better had by the enlightened. I certainly don't feel enlightened for thinking about them, that's for sure. But it feels like a truth that I cannot shake. If mathematics is so precise, yet it contains these imaginary/complex numbers in its arsenal, then why is the perceived reality any different? Or is it even any different than the math we so futilely cling to as the foundation for this reality?
Here I go again...
When is it ok to mourn?
When is it ok to mourn?
And how's a simple question too.
Where gentleness fails to find
the sacred judgment of sublime
Feelings locked behind domains
built by blindness to a light.
Let the structure of fames
tremble down the darkest blight,
structured frightful but not mine
but handed down in ways sublime?
Searching inward by only you
determine under words to mourn.
And how's a simple question too.
Where gentleness fails to find
the sacred judgment of sublime
Feelings locked behind domains
built by blindness to a light.
Let the structure of fames
tremble down the darkest blight,
structured frightful but not mine
but handed down in ways sublime?
Searching inward by only you
determine under words to mourn.
My Tongue
Between the Shaken leaves,
Tremor of the broken wind,
Light flickers from stars above.
Gentle Kisses springing down
As droplets mist the air.
Subtle Brushes cling to eyelashes.
Careful glistening iris dawns the
Face of hearts lost in the purest
Darkness of night graced by Moonlight.
To see through filters
Brings light to insightful mind.
Goddess guide my love!
Tremor of the broken wind,
Light flickers from stars above.
Gentle Kisses springing down
As droplets mist the air.
Subtle Brushes cling to eyelashes.
Careful glistening iris dawns the
Face of hearts lost in the purest
Darkness of night graced by Moonlight.
To see through filters
Brings light to insightful mind.
Goddess guide my love!
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