Wanted, Wanted: Paku, Paku
A fragile and ravenous flower
eternally fleeing the ghostly truth
and wilting away at its power.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Stories of a Jaded Romantic
I will sing even when words have no meaning
and the notes seem dull and flat.
I will love you and wish for your love
even when no hope for it exists.
If all is meaningless then I will create meaning in this.
If I cannot create meaning, I will pretend.
I became every word that I ever wrote
even when I did not mean them.
I am every desperate syllable
these lips have ever spoken
to a crowd that did not understand - or so I believed.
I said them like they were true and they were.
Even when they were lies.
I would be honest with you.
You knew - that awkward glance.
The lowering of eyes as eyes met.
The sudden loss of words when words were needed.
The end of the night when we
did not kiss goodbye.
Silence, terrible silence.
You had to have known.
Do I understand too much or too little?
Am I prideful or simply humiliated?
Somewhere this became more difficult
than I could have imagined. An intangible quest.
Ephemeral. Ethereal. Figmentatious.
And yet I believe.
If life were tired and boring I would still live it,
a hundred times over. A thousand. Nothing is worse than the unknowing.
But this slips through my fingers, for all that I would grasp it.
I will reach out again.
There may be no end to this. Satisfactory.
The best stories circle back on themselves,
constantly revising,
hoping to find infinity
before the last word is spoken.
and the notes seem dull and flat.
I will love you and wish for your love
even when no hope for it exists.
If all is meaningless then I will create meaning in this.
If I cannot create meaning, I will pretend.
I became every word that I ever wrote
even when I did not mean them.
I am every desperate syllable
these lips have ever spoken
to a crowd that did not understand - or so I believed.
I said them like they were true and they were.
Even when they were lies.
I would be honest with you.
You knew - that awkward glance.
The lowering of eyes as eyes met.
The sudden loss of words when words were needed.
The end of the night when we
did not kiss goodbye.
Silence, terrible silence.
You had to have known.
Do I understand too much or too little?
Am I prideful or simply humiliated?
Somewhere this became more difficult
than I could have imagined. An intangible quest.
Ephemeral. Ethereal. Figmentatious.
And yet I believe.
If life were tired and boring I would still live it,
a hundred times over. A thousand. Nothing is worse than the unknowing.
But this slips through my fingers, for all that I would grasp it.
I will reach out again.
There may be no end to this. Satisfactory.
The best stories circle back on themselves,
constantly revising,
hoping to find infinity
before the last word is spoken.
If words are the windows to the soul then I worry
because I have never strayed from a sappy love sonnet
and yet here I am alone, waiting for you.
I want you to know that I am not afraid of us.
But I am not the man who puts bravery in every step
or breath exhaled. I stumble. I think too much
about the left foot right and
the kiss goodnight. I know that I am more
than is seen - but I cannot seem to reveal it. Is it my call
for the curtain that unveils the play?
Do I write this show, and translate each stage direction
into a laborious step? Do you?
I have no wish to be strong if strength has no meaning.
I have no wish to bother you if truly that is what I do.
I might have the answers but I would rather learn
than teach. And when I am certain,
I am certain it will be too late.
Is this what fear has become? Is it a step into
the dark unknown?
Or is it you,
holding your hand out to the crowd,
hoping for someone to vault the stage
and take it?
because I have never strayed from a sappy love sonnet
and yet here I am alone, waiting for you.
I want you to know that I am not afraid of us.
But I am not the man who puts bravery in every step
or breath exhaled. I stumble. I think too much
about the left foot right and
the kiss goodnight. I know that I am more
than is seen - but I cannot seem to reveal it. Is it my call
for the curtain that unveils the play?
Do I write this show, and translate each stage direction
into a laborious step? Do you?
I have no wish to be strong if strength has no meaning.
I have no wish to bother you if truly that is what I do.
I might have the answers but I would rather learn
than teach. And when I am certain,
I am certain it will be too late.
Is this what fear has become? Is it a step into
the dark unknown?
Or is it you,
holding your hand out to the crowd,
hoping for someone to vault the stage
and take it?
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Delche: Delche is the god of rogues, trickery, vanity, and music.
Appearance: Delche appears as an attractive young man with brightly colored, show-offy clothing.
Worship: Worshippers of Delche can be found anywhere and are known to range from rogues to bards to gamblers to travelers. There is a church dedicated to Delche in Brigobaen.
Domains: Trickery, Luck, Chaos, Celerity
Favored Weapon: Rapier
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
"If truth can be divine, why not a lie? If a lie can be divine, why is it not true?"
If the church of Delche has ever claimed any singular tenet it is this: there is no one way of seeing the world. Humanity, for example, walks blind to the things that lie in darkness, sees not the magical undercurrents that lie in both the natural and unnatural world around them. If this can be true, can they not also be blind to other truths? Perception frames all creatures concept of reality - thus its importance.
Thus, a worshipper of Delche understands two things - finding the relevant truth when it is hidden, and creating truth when it cannot be found. Because perception IS reality, keen senses are necessary to enjoy and understand the grand mystery of life, and storytelling is the highest form of power in shaping that mystery. If a commoner claims that he is a noble, or a simpleton that he is divine, then by all rights they are both noble and divine for as long as they can keep up the charade. Some claim that Delche himself came into godhood in this fashion.
Of course, lies can be disproven if they are weak enough, and clerics of Delche constantly test each others stories and beliefs in order to craft stronger and stronger "truths". A favorite parable of the church relates how a group of upright clerics tried to prove their own gods existence a myth, only to be carefully shown by the grandmaster of tricksters that they, instead, were a mere childrens story, and never alive in the first place.
Most followers of Delche love to hear themselves talk, and will freely engage in logical contradictions and circular arguments for the sheer joy of it - if they can get away with such outrageous claims, all the better. Music and other arts that create emotion where none previously existed are held in reverence. Clerics of Delche will often craft grand lies merely as an experiment to see if the world might be better suited by a different perception - or if they themselves can benefit. Some clerics of Delche carry as holy symbols a weighted coin or set of dice, as a reminder that with the right tools, one can make his own luck.
Appearance: Delche appears as an attractive young man with brightly colored, show-offy clothing.
Worship: Worshippers of Delche can be found anywhere and are known to range from rogues to bards to gamblers to travelers. There is a church dedicated to Delche in Brigobaen.
Domains: Trickery, Luck, Chaos, Celerity
Favored Weapon: Rapier
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
"If truth can be divine, why not a lie? If a lie can be divine, why is it not true?"
If the church of Delche has ever claimed any singular tenet it is this: there is no one way of seeing the world. Humanity, for example, walks blind to the things that lie in darkness, sees not the magical undercurrents that lie in both the natural and unnatural world around them. If this can be true, can they not also be blind to other truths? Perception frames all creatures concept of reality - thus its importance.
Thus, a worshipper of Delche understands two things - finding the relevant truth when it is hidden, and creating truth when it cannot be found. Because perception IS reality, keen senses are necessary to enjoy and understand the grand mystery of life, and storytelling is the highest form of power in shaping that mystery. If a commoner claims that he is a noble, or a simpleton that he is divine, then by all rights they are both noble and divine for as long as they can keep up the charade. Some claim that Delche himself came into godhood in this fashion.
Of course, lies can be disproven if they are weak enough, and clerics of Delche constantly test each others stories and beliefs in order to craft stronger and stronger "truths". A favorite parable of the church relates how a group of upright clerics tried to prove their own gods existence a myth, only to be carefully shown by the grandmaster of tricksters that they, instead, were a mere childrens story, and never alive in the first place.
Most followers of Delche love to hear themselves talk, and will freely engage in logical contradictions and circular arguments for the sheer joy of it - if they can get away with such outrageous claims, all the better. Music and other arts that create emotion where none previously existed are held in reverence. Clerics of Delche will often craft grand lies merely as an experiment to see if the world might be better suited by a different perception - or if they themselves can benefit. Some clerics of Delche carry as holy symbols a weighted coin or set of dice, as a reminder that with the right tools, one can make his own luck.
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