Just Another One of Those Poem Things in the Works

Making a Meaning

Can anyone make sense of life, real sense?
Who can call the cards before they fall?
Who can sing the song of the prophetess?
Life is splayed before our eyes and
even then
the sense has left us.

There is no waiting in the wings for the
Bird of Paradise has gone the way of the Phoenix.
The electric sensation of the heartbeat filled kiss
prolonged and left for wanting
in the memory of
beings.

Singing in the soul the creation of beauty
the lifeforce of the fermata
which slips into silence and
exhilarates the blood in the living creature;
we who crawl into the
world of forgotten midst and
burst into fury.

There is no collar for the savage
creator of our own mind.
The deck cannot be stacked or
counted on for anything but
the toss of the dice and the lady
whose luck is not her own.

Beyond the door of the setting sun
the fire ignites the path of recollection
and foresight.
But who is it that can gaze on the
corona and still contemplate the fate
before them?

Over the Edge

I know it must seem like I had fallen off the edge of the earth or something. It’s been quite a long time since I’ve posted. Frankly, though, those who know me should expect this from time to time. I, like many other people, find obstacles to put in the way of daily writing. Oh…and did I mention that I fell off the edge of the earth. *kidding*

What can I say? I just haven’t written for the blog. No real excuse, just haven’t been doing it. I have been writing, but I’ve also been doing other things as well. Still playing the RPGs, sewing, and gardening, taking care of family, dealing with health issues of my own, and basically living that thing we call life. I suppose that nagging feeling finally got to me and I could no longer resist the urge to put something on the blog. I don’t really have a topic today but I thought…Does everyone know that there is a total solar eclipse happening today? It’s true, across India and Asia the sun will go dark for what will be the longest solar eclipse of this century. It will last for a whole 6.7 minutes and apparently cause millions of superstitious folk to do many a bizarre thing.



Honestly, from what I understand there are many people in India who believe that the eclipse is such an evil omen that they will go to extreme ends to prevent their child from being born on the day of an eclipse. Others, will bath in sacred waters and some will use the day to create chaos and cause bloodshed. What will you do today? Oh…well there’s going to be a total solar eclipse so I thought I would go out and massacre a few hundred folk. What about you? Very unsettling.

I wonder how it is that the superstition over shadows the science? Really, I have to say that I feel it. It’s like a churning in the gut, the possibility of something more being out there. Even though we know what causes the eclipse maybe there’s still something mystical, or spiritual that happens to human beings during the time of the eclipse. Perhaps something is triggered in the world archetype when all minds are focused on the same event, maybe we are providing it with the power we feel. Could it be that our Gods have the power they have because we will it into being? Just asking. Energy is energy, right? If we focus the spark on kindling we create fire. Basically we’ve exchanged one form of energy for another. Mystic happenings…maybe our focus causes the energy to take on a new form. Just sayin’.

I Am the Virginal Sacrifice

It’s true; I was sacrificed as a virgin last night. But, I’ll tell you more about that in a minute. First, I’d just like to point out that I haven’t made my new posts on a regular basis, sorry. Shit happens, man. What can I say? It’s strange, though, the number of hits have remained pretty constant. Ok, ok…back to the virginal sacrifice.

There I was lying on a porcelain slab which was in the shape of a crescent moon. I was held down by some mystical force, completely prone, totally defenseless. The four of them held a huge five foot long sword and together they chanted over my body. Each of them, in turn, cut their own hand and let the blood run over me. They continued their chant in a language that seemed to be some sort of basterdized Latin. I vaguely recalled some of the large black symbols that were scrawled around me. I had seen four large symbols on the floor when they brought me in. Each of the four were standing on one of the four symbols that surrounded the alter. I knew, from previous run ins with them, that they were of the Cult of Lilith. This was not boding well for me.

As the chanting continued my anxiety rose. I knew this was going to be the end of me. I watched, helpless, as the sword was raised above my body by the tall, good-looking one who had given me this life. He smiled at me while a small bit of his blazing red hair fell free from the ponytail, as he plunged the sword into my stomach, right through my belly button and beyond me into and through the alter. There was no blood. There was a tremendous rush of pain which seared into my being. I was unable, even, to scream. The chanting grew louder, and my thoughts and feelings swirled around as if they were becoming one.

I began to feel warm, something that I hadn’t experienced for the last several months. I could feel my body pulsating as a horrifying scream penetrated my ears and ruptured any last strength I had. As I lay there slowly slipping into torpor, he leaned over my face, smiled, and kissed my forehead. He pulled the sword from my stomach, it was different somehow. It no longer resembled the cold steel metal that had been driven through me, now, it had an ichor black glow to it. Still unable to react, I saw them stand, turn and leave. The building around me was on fire, there were pieces of burning ceiling falling to the floor on the other side of the room. I laid there.

Finally, when I thought my end was coming, Harper lifted me from the alter threw me over her shoulder and ran. When we reached Lady Imogen’s house I was placed on a cold tile floor, held down by Harper, Jake, and PD. Lady Imogen slit her wrist, the blood leached down my throat and I began to move, to struggle, to come out of my torpor. I wanted more, and I tried to grab her arm to keep the coppery liquid flowing into my mouth, but I was held fast. She drew away and I was back, able to move again; but I needed to feed.

To say the least, the night was eventful. There were many, many things happening all around that night. The Prince of the city has formally declared war. Things are so bad right now, that the werewolves are helping us. Yeah, can you say “bad things are happening”? Icky ichor and Banes are showing up all over the place. There is something draining the spirit life from the Umbra, leaving the world cold and dead. I don’t know what my role in all of this is yet, but I know I’m an essential piece of the puzzle. And I wonder, as I look through the unhealing hole in my stomach, and study the bloodless white dress; why me? My sire said he chose me because I was a virgin, I’m his preferred feed, but is that why I was sacrificed? What about the others who were made with me that night? We were all deliberately chosen by our sires, what does that mean? Has the Cult of Lilith completed its task? Maybe, or maybe, their turns are yet to come.

So, I’m hoping that by now you’ve deduced that this story was my latest Vampire update. It’s was an awesome game last night and I look forward to its continued awesomness. Things are really heating up. Yeah!

BTW – Do you know how hard it is to find a decent picture of a classical virgin sacrifice?

Fairytales

Once upon a forever ago there was a blog writer who tried to write her entries with some degree of regularity. Unfortunately, her life took hold and things got into the way and prevented her from writing. That in itself wasn’t too bad, but after a while she lost interest and turned her thoughts elsewhere. She found it difficult to focus her attention on a blog that she felt just wasn’t doing all that well anyway. So, in her mind she justified not writing in it for a long time.

Then one day, after checking her blog count she realized that she had a large count. In other words, people were reading it. She continued to track her blog hits and found, ironically, that she was receiving more hits since she had stopped writing than when she was pursuing it regularly. While this was perplexing to her, she found it very interesting as well and thought she would try an experiment.



She wrote a new post and put it up on her blog, and then she waited. She decided she would track the number of hits the new post received to see if the interest would continue. So, with an anxious mood, she waited, and waited. But, since it had only been a few minutes since her post, she was unable to retrieve any useful information. She called it a day and figured she would check tomorrow.

In the meantime she planned her children’s D&D game for the evening. They’ve come pretty far and have realized that the old mansion they are in is not haunted after all. It was, in fact, being used by smugglers who attempted to keep people at bay by making the place appear to be haunted. And yes, while she did have to semi lead them in that direction, given their ages of 9, 10, 11, and 13 they did a remarkable job on their own. Tonight, they have the clean up work. They need to finish going through the mansion so that they can collect all their bootie. They have killed all the smugglers but there is still a room full of skeletons for them to take care of, unbeknownst to them of course.



In the end, the writer closed her new blog entry with the promise of letting people know how the whole tracking experiment went and how the D&D turns out. And perhaps, just perhaps, the writer will once again make a serious attempt to post on a regular basis.

The End

I Think

I think I’ve been feeling a bit guilty for not writing on the blog lately, although, it’s a two way road. Honestly, I really just haven’t felt like blogging. I’ve been spending a lot of time working on my book but even that probably hasn’t been what’s robbing me of my motivation. Facebook has been taking up a good deal of time lately. I find myself spending a good two hours on it when I log on, either talking to friends or just catching up on all of the game stuff that is sent to me. I don’t really need to be on there, but it has been nice visiting with my friends. I suppose I’m allowing it to be a distraction, or an excuse for not writing. When it comes down to it, though, I think the real reason is that I don’t really feel like I have anything that important to say. I find that I’ve thought about writing on several occasions, but I’m having trouble coming up with a topic. I guess I figure if I don’t have anything to say, then why say anything? That said, this entry is strictly written to relieve that guilt feeling I have growing in the back of my mind.

I don’t like the idea of neglecting the blog for several different reasons. One, I don’t want people who may be following the blog to think that I’ve abandoned it. Two, when I don’t put forth an entry I feel like I’m slacking on a project that I have undertaken. Three, I feel guilt because when I don’t write, I also neglect reading other people’s blogs. That makes me feel like I’m letting those people down.

While I have a strong desire to create an entry each day, that obviously will not happen. I do try to post on a fairly regular basis, though, but even that suffers at times. So, the long and short of it is this. I suppose I’ll post when I feel like I have something worth posting, otherwise I won’t. I will, and I do, try to come up with topics that I feel are worth the post because I would like to keep them coming on at least a semi-regular basis. I guess we’ll have to see what happens.

One last thing…just in case you haven’t heard. President Obama will be coming to Elkhart this Monday, the 9th. From what I understand, since Elkhart now holds the honorable position of the highest unemployment rate in the nation, the president will be drawing attention to the need to rebuild America’s industries. I think this should be interesting and just thought that some of you may like to know that.

So, there you have it, my guilt entry. Maybe the mere act of writing an entry will spur me on to further entries. I guess we’ll have to see. TTFN

I’m in a Stupor

Really, I want to do some serious writing, but I’m having some trouble here. While I’d like to do this Blog entry, I would actually prefer to be working on my novel. The problem with that, though, is there’s too much activity going on right now to be able to bring my thoughts together. So…frustration ensues.

My brain is spending a little bit of time here and a little bit of time there, but I can’t seem to bring enough of it together to even get an entry out of it. Honestly, it’s taken over an hour just to get this far.

I have 19 year old daughter in crisis mode, 9 year old son in birthday day mode, birthday cake bake mode, chicken and noodles super mode, writing mode, cats on the table mode and the world has gone and left my brain to cope. That’s a dangerous thing to do.

So, today’s entry is just this. Here’s hoping tomorrow I can get things together. Peace.

Where to Now?

Time for a new poem. I felt the need to create today and so, here is the first draft. Where it goes from here is anyone’s guess. Don’t mind the picture (45grave); it doesn’t really go with the poem. I just felt like being a bit obscure.

Far Away

Far away the world falls
into a blackend oath after
scaling the nerve of
scratching nails down the chalkboard

Watching letters of no one fly
past the window of opportunity
into a dark night of
anxiety and pleasure

Shock absorber walls keep out
undesirable thoughts
and deeds
Inside a trapped innocence
battered, broken, bleeding

The lives of many hold
the few torn remnants of a
wishing world turned inside out
Ready to take on the
Master

Far away she sings in the garden
looking out into humanity
feeling, pleading, loving,
vigilant.

Caressing the moment of respite
that has become her anchor
of redemption
creating a new life within
the tattered womb of isolation

The beginning moments of a
charitable love fall backwards
through the last sentiments of
a long ago day where time stands
still then erupts into echo

Far away they leave
forgetting that they once lived
sheltered in the garden where
the echoes of birth have faded