Incomplete Surrender

Sometimes odd reactions occur.

Most of the time I can tell the difference though,

Between the real and the brought upon.

However,

Occasionally

A blurring will occur

Transporting the flesh

To

Some mystically warped dream landscape

And despite the fantastical whimsies within,

The mind continues to play tricks upon

The warbling words playing soundtrack to the world

Once in a while the scenery is painted like nothing seen before.  Here, truth falls victim to perception.  The mind wants to feel and thusly feels.  The vividly sculpted canvasing created, spread naked, for the larger-than-life states of vibrancy deluged upon— the mixtures of grey clouds and colorful mountain ranges merge, forming some abstraction you need to touch. And touch you must.

One of the most common situations is composed, as a story would be by a competent fantasy illustrator.

The sword is firmly placed within my hands.  The blade gleams the heaven’s and the crested jewels upon the hilt glimmer when falsities near

Often we have sidekicks.  The mind typically steals these from real life of what was in view just the night before.  Tonight I am on a quest, searching for the persnickety populous; it’s cat-scratched fever, and hordes of grotesque curs—armadas of a drone that drowned to mewl. 

An unlikely cast of characters, each, accompanies me bearing individually meted responsibilities.  Tonight’s journey shows Salacious Crumb to be my man-at-arms.  He barely reaches the apex of my ankle, yet carries a full-sword the size of a mountain goat.  Babe follows closely behind, squealing the songs it knows and whines about the one’s it refuses to learn.  Yet it does it’s job fairly well, after-all, who wouldn’t get a kick out of singing pig, lost and looking for it’s way home, only to find a world without acreage to spare.  Yes, a very good jester indeed.  Then we have the Schmoos, a whole family of blobby beasts, they trail behind and hop about, making sure nobody sneaks up from behind. Finally, to round things out, there is my trusty steed, a dear, dear relative of Mr. Ed, who, to this day, when not out on adventure, shops himself a direct descendant, and thusly, fair or not, collects exorbitant stud fees, for all the 80’s steeplechase fanatics who always wished their nag would speak to them.

OH. PLEASE!!! JUST GET ON WITH THE THING.  worst seven-fifty ever spent...

“Where did that voice-over come from. and for that matter, how RUDE”

Too often than not, the stories fail to complete.

And, for some reason or another, something I can only pass off as a curse of modern medicine, they never continue on as we perhaps would like…

After the next pills take their place a newer cast bedazzles with their spell, and the cyclicality renews again.

Moiety (Dark)

Erstwhile patrons of the disavowed
I'm sorry for the actions
these hands caused.
       are the final words my poor mother will ever hear me speak.

Shackled, in chains, paraded about the streets, naked and in shame…

       are the last sights my poor mother will have ever cast upon me…

INSIDE THE VOID….A REALM FOR THE WORST OF THE WORST
Current Population: 1

Darkness: My dearest nemesis, I know a part of you still feels what I
                feel, breathes the air I do, see the stars as they appear this
                side of the universe…you were not the one he Exiled, into
                this imbroglio of circumstance.  No, you are living the life
                that I should have been sharing, with you, side by side,
                ruling as brothers should…it was not my fault…but my words
                were never eloquent enough and as I had often suspected,
                even from the most incipient of days, you proved to
                me..there, on that final day, you never trusted me, not in
                the slightest..
             
                No…you are not here, in this place, where the texture is
                imbued with the hate and anger of knowing this is all there
                shall ever be…unjustly accused of that which I did not  
                conceive…YES, YES I DID SOME THINGS, some very bad
                things…but as for my charges…well…those things I most
                certainly did not do...

                and so I am here, in this void, securely imprisoned, with no
               hope of possible escape or vindication…no chance to prove my
               innocence…to see your face, father's too…when you hear the
               news…when you hear the truth…and I shall savor the
               apologies…I shall enjoy them very much…yet, accept them I
               shall…for despite this all…we are family…we still are kin…

               but, no, I am here, in this lonely, lonely land..where all I
               can see, is a muted and selective vision of reality…an ever
               existing imbrication…where my unhappiness and hostility
              "grace' me in haunting fashion, while the the "pleasures" of
               bearing witness to every comely vision they all see in you,
               overlaps me in dreadful patterns of regularity.

While I must ever brood, of possibility, of  for the day I see your faces again, and what these hands shall do then...

ENTER THE HARBINGER

H: Hey, sad sack…
D: Who else is here?
    For surely, you are not an imbecile
H: Nope, you got me
D: and sarcasm too... are you mocking me?
     as those in violation of such offenses, soon find
     just how ephemeral their lives can be
H: look, dude, I'm just passing through and I could give
     two plumes of a cuckoo about you, but I heard something
    you might find interesting….
D: What is this something that you speak of
H: Well, if you let me finish a thought, I'd tell you…
     I was over by the lake house, and saw your twin…
D: Not my twin, my moiety... we are one in the same, equals..
     separated that's all…He's my light, and I'm, well, I'm his
     penumbra, together we are one,united…a complete set…
     a panoply…yes, that is what father always called our unique
     gift….brother always would say it's what made us who we are…
     what made us special….me on the other hand….I saw it as the
     worst possible character flaw
H:  …anyhow, he said he'll be wed next week, on the fourth...
D: Wed, as in… marriage?
H: ...to Felicity, and that's when I
     remembered…
D: She is MINE…
H: you two were quite the item…I remember that love affair well...
D: It was not a mere dalliance, as you so crudely put it…it was much      
    more than that…it was everything...
    ...how has this come to be, tell me now...
H: Don't know, don't care…just thought you should know
D: And why…why would you come here to me…with this news...
     what motives do you conceal...in fact, how did you slip
     pass the brutes at the gates…
H: Hey, can't a guy throw another dude a bone, after all, seems like
     you could use one, being all by yourself and all…probably don't
     get many visitors...
D: Don't you pity me…not from a message boy…

Darkness rose from his throne of animosity, inured by this recent bestowal of information, bone sword firmly in hand, blood-tinged beads of sweat anointing his charcoaled skin….

H:  Dude, chill, don't work yourself…

Then, just there, Darkness thought of quite the clever ploy.  He was always an excellent miscreant, the epitome of what furtive schemers strived to become, ever the surreptitious child this one was…

D: No, you are correct, absolutely right…it matters not
H: Sounds like it mattered some…

With anger boiling beneath the flesh, Darkness was doing all he could to remain in this fragile state of composition…the slightest provocation could be his moment of undoing…the forbearance was gnawing fierce...

D: no, again, you are correct, of course she meant something…she still
  means something…but I am here, and I can not blame her for falling
  for him…after all, she most certainly sees me every time she looks at
  him, every touch, every embrace…

H: Ok, I get it, but I couldn't tell ya, as per the wings, not a shrink…

D: But…could you wait but a moment longer…I...
             Darkness quickly scurries into a room behind his throne

H: no prob…

Darkness returns, holding a talisman of ever-shifting shades of hue

D: Could you deliver this…heirloom…to my dearest brother…as a token
     of the joy I feel for this union to be….a pre-pre- wedding gift if you            
     would…
H: Now you're talking my language bro…delivering stuff, that's my
    thing…

Darkness hands the talisman to the winged courier…and off he went,
fluttering up and out from sight…

D: I pray my dear, dear brother accept this small gesture…

FADE TO LIGHT


The bold-print words were taken from Shawna's prompt at her weekly feature, Monday Melting.  Head on over there and see what others have  spun with the words supplied and join in while you're there, it's creativity at it's finest…

As for this tale…part two will appear over at my other site and continue there…it all just kind of came to me perusing the list of words Shawna provided, so I'm not sure how long this tale will wind up being, or what direction it will take…but should be fun to work through, and I'll continue to incorporate as many words as I can from this weeks list, there are 100 of them to choose from...

Meridian Gates

Aligned with vulgar pretense

A king is told of men

vaguely assembled,

gathering before

Meridian gates

This was not uncommon

to hear—

for discussions

of this kind,

often occur

Upon a lea

once so revered—

         Where bards would laud

         and clerics would praise

But now resigned

                  To forever be,

                  overwhelmed, by

                  shadows cast, from

an aerie within

a storming sky  

                 

The sound of horsemen

stir the wind— relentlessly

approaching, as once they did,

For those near—here, in this

sacred space—they scatter quick—

living to pray another day

At this hallowed ground,

a place where armored souls

once were welcomed in—

And in return,

the silver-skins

would teach them well—

Each the themes of doubt and fear

as cast amidst

perpetuating

scenes of Hell.

For Dragon's Blood

…And so the days of spring have ended

With the right to mend suspended

Healing vows rescinded

As winter comes we all have been sentenced

To a life without…dragon’s blood

…And so the sovereign ruler of all that is

Paces frantically the ins and outs of all that’s his

Broken hymns of praise now echo each end of the prism

As the numbers of the kingdom dwindle down to this

Where the graveyards once hallowed have since obtained fullness

In a world without…dragon’s blood

To the runes the leader dwells

Offers the deity’s his soul to sell

Despite the voices heard in rumored tells

He’s not the vicious ruler their words would spell

Something he knew must be unshelled

To alleviate the hell of damnation’s tolling bells

In a frozen realm, without…dragon’s blood

…And so, in a singular procession

The healthy venture out upon this final proposition

Where it’s not the strongest or the bravest aggregation

Set to live out their ritual of obligation

Led by the king they fought both snow and icy contradictions

Where the early indication offered the bleakest premonition

Yet forth they battled in a ruthless pursuit of obsession

For…dragon’s blood

The blood of the dragon, an elixir for every ill

Under the roughest scales, beast flesh lies still

Beneath tough skin, it’s here where the holy river fills

And to pierce the exterior only the sacred blade can spill

Else the blood of a dragon is but the blood of a kill

Prayers must be spoken as blades held high with deepest skill

Paying tribute to this ancient elder as blade meets sigil

Then holding tight before the flow, as a final thanks is paid to Yggdrasil

For providing…dragon’s blood  

It's Tuesday, and that means a fresh edition of Open Link Night over at D'Verse.  Make sure you stop on by to check out some wonderful poetry and while you're there share one of your own.  Cheers.

Goblin Suppressed

Pointed toward the rotting eave, a child of magic came to me.

With eyes as pure as the moon-lamps glow

He had questions he needed the answers to

Father, for lack of cruelty to break so young a heart, How could I tell him such a tale

Unwanted, left adjacent to cat’s dish and disposed meals

Too young to know the difference

Therefore he became the son, I didn’t earn, I hadn’t won

Only fortune blessed to me

Only hope of family

For a Goblin dwelling in a land of Jin

Soon he would tell the difference

Suppress forever I cannot,

By such a time, I can only hope love’s light has cast

An immovable bond of love and loyalty

Until such a time

I must educate and make the choices for him

“Father, why do we hide away?”

“Father, what are we hiding from?”

And so, without knowing the reason why,

I replied without summating facts or weaving lies as truth

In so I spoke and said:

There is a place, oft enjoyed, oft abused.

There is a sojourn, one may take, one must make.

There is a harbinger in wait.

There are harpies, flying beside fate.

Gemini’s claustrophobia ensues.

Vigilance of patricidal commentary

Cars rambling to and fro

Aiming to avoid

Collide you must.

There are tactile reminders, of yore, as décor.

There are remnants, scattered about worn trace, spasms in dust wake.

There are echoes, voiceovers barrage and take, the meanings of the collage they make.

There is a place, oft asleep, oft awake in sleep.

There is a sentry, on-guard, protecting the gates.

There are faeries, sifting through the cracks.

Filing through cellulose siphoned knots

Liaisons corroborate

Dial plots for a middling day

Ambition in a time of duress

Closure, once promised to those at rest