tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76175485486855824912024-03-05T11:04:51.198-08:00RGN-WritesAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07283116434616841805noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617548548685582491.post-19265827256264843422013-08-24T06:58:00.002-07:002013-08-24T07:00:21.894-07:00<div class="MsoNormal">
<h2>
<u>Tick... Timeless poetry collection</u></h2>
<u>Saturn (mythology)<o:p></o:p></u></div>
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Saturn (Latin: Saturnus) was a
god in ancient Roman religion and a character in myth. Saturn is a complex
figure because of his multiple associations and long history. He was the first
god of the Capitol, known since the most ancient times as Saturnius Mons and
was seen as a god of generation, dissolution, plenty, wealth, agriculture,
periodical renewal and liberation. In later developments he came to be also a
god of time. His reign was depicted as a Golden Age of abundance and peace.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<u>Stolen Tock<o:p></o:p></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro Bold","serif";">Tick...tock...
tick...tock...tick...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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"<i>Martha, the
clocks broken again. Martha</i>!"<o:p></o:p></div>
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"<span style="font-family: "Iskoola Pota","sans-serif";">Coming
Mr. Saturn, you’re looking rather well today</span>"<o:p></o:p></div>
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"<i>Yeah, really
because that's what they all say, 20 years ago I still had a full set of hair
and my own gosh damn teeth</i>"<o:p></o:p></div>
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"<span style="font-family: "Iskoola Pota","sans-serif";">Come
now Mr. Saturn, you’re in a great condition for your age</span>"<o:p></o:p></div>
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"<i>At least I
outlived that wretched clock</i>"<o:p></o:p></div>
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"<span style="font-family: "Iskoola Pota","sans-serif";">But
it was a gift from your wife</span>"<o:p></o:p></div>
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"<i>And time stole
her from me too didn't it... Martha on second thought leave the clock broken</i>.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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"<i>Yes Mr. Saturn</i>"<o:p></o:p></div>
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<u>Heart through the ages<o:p></o:p></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";">Let me not fritter
away like love that hasn’t arrived <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"> Away as the sands that through your hour glass
spills <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";">And bury what
heart that hath in fact surely survived <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";">Or gather in the
gloom or in the sullen stills <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";">The yearning
youth of your bravest years and best me <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";">For until then
I as the antebellum shall remain <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";">As the oceans lonely
barrage and waves of the sea,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";">The memories of
lost lover’s brush and day dreams pain <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"> So forget my existence, fear me no more <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";">than The reap
of tomorrow and silvery curls <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"> So quicken at the world and its plentiful
store <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";">And let the
aging of sands be made into pearls <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"> Let me not, held in contempt, be driven<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"> I am the gift and you choose what is given<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<u>Time makes fools of us all<o:p></o:p></u></div>
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July 21 1969 <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Adobe Kaiti Std R","serif";"> To Julian Saturn<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Adobe Kaiti Std R","serif";">Dear
Julian, the world is changing so quickly. It was not but yesterday that they
launched the first manned rocket into space. As I write to you by now I am
probably on board a ship crossing the Pacific. It’s hard how less than ten
years ago the television was still a stream of electrical ink that would move
with its own madness. How it’s already been 20 years since I was stationed in
Guadalcanal and most of the men I would drink with into the early morn have
hardened into cantankerous old men like myself and got hitched on a chance we’d
never make it out. I miss those days; the simple times that brought people
together, I may not have aged well or wised up to the new confounded
contraptions of the world, but my life has been an adventure and I have reaped
the fruits that I have sown. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Adobe Kaiti Std R","serif";">Hope
to see you soon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Mr Saturn <o:p></o:p></div>
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<u>The boys of Guadalcanal<o:p></o:p></u></div>
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“<span style="font-family: "Iskoola Pota","sans-serif";">All
it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy. That’s how
far the world is from where I am. Just one bad day. You had a bad day once. Am
I right? You had a bad day and everything changed. It wasn’t your choice though
now was it. That little wall lurker that chimes back and forth, he’s the one
that makes it all up as we go along. He calls the shots. Speaking of which
would you like a glass?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Iskoola Pota","sans-serif";">“Yeah,
you got to stop hogging the bottle Roday, we don’t got much left and I’m dammed
sure it’s what’s helping us pass time in this dammed jungle. Listen to you
going off your rocker. We are here simply because of circumstance and our own
choice, nothing more.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<u>Day dreamer<o:p></o:p></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "AGaramond LT Bold";">Dear diary<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "AGaramond LT Bold";">Not
much happened today, I sat down in the comfort of my office chair, l worked for
6 hours, maybe a bit less with slacking and coffee breaks. I fear I am bored.
Something’s missing. Maybe the milk was off or the familiar smell of that cheap
carpet has finally got to me. I can’t quit nail it to the wall but it hangs
around like the names of all those people I helped process mail for like J.Johnson
and R. Saturn. Busy people with busy
lives. I sometimes wonder what these people are doing with their lives that
someone wants to hear from them. It makes me consider what have I done with
mine, why am I not writing letters to someone? Then again I think it could have
just been the milk that’s upset me.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<u><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Wuthering
sands<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Just shut
up and kiss me!” she said <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <u>As<o:p></o:p></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <u>A<o:p></o:p></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <u>Tear<o:p></o:p></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <u>Trickled </u>down
her face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Don’t cry
Julian” he said<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">
Carefully wiping<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">
<u>The pain from her face<o:p></o:p></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’ll be back
from Guadalcanal in a few weeks<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <i>we won’t
be</i> <u>apart</u> <i>we will be</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Together<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">
Again<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She smiles
silently. By<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> The time you return <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<h2>
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">
I will be gone</span></h2>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07283116434616841805noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617548548685582491.post-31998394273812865112013-05-31T06:17:00.002-07:002013-05-31T06:17:48.541-07:00Decadence and HedonismMaybe a little bit tired. try writing a 14 page English essay and walk away like you have the world under your arm. Not easy but manageable. It was rather a laugh. Contemplating the ability to cheat with 4 people unsupervised locked in a room for 3 hours to write. Slavery! at it's finest. Finally know what the monkeys that churned out Shakespeare felt like. Then again the afternoon is just going to be more work as I start winding it up for exams. No time for much else. I also learned a new word I love learning a new word -Decadence. <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Make it two, lets talk Hedonism.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07283116434616841805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617548548685582491.post-70518268373537269782013-05-18T10:04:00.002-07:002013-05-18T10:04:13.465-07:00Writing to the scythes The thing about writing and starting is that if you have a story, it does not suddenly appear in a stroke genius. It does not burst forth like bullet from a gun. It does not materialize on your lips like winters mist. It's a journey that's cultured and developed in the heart and soul. Yet it will remain rooted there forever unless the scythe of courage tears it free. A story needs to be violently up heaved to blossom in the violent light of the public. Don't be afraid be bold and let your story twist unexpectedly.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07283116434616841805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617548548685582491.post-9087655228450051922013-05-16T04:59:00.004-07:002013-05-16T04:59:58.739-07:00The startling truthIn reality iv been negligent in my approach to a hard edit for my work but the pieces are coming together. I believe the hardest challenge for me at this point is addition of meaningful content that does not feel like a botched surgery, does not take away and in fact adds a much desired depth to my characters while keeping my word count down.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07283116434616841805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617548548685582491.post-84479724300077611202013-05-12T13:11:00.002-07:002013-05-12T13:11:55.039-07:00Mothers DayAmong the proceeding morning madness of mothers day and the over invigorated sense of capitalism still adrift in the air what more could you ask for that to have a German grandma drinking vodka shots at afternoon lunch. Not much I would say to be frank, maybe having dinner stolen away for the night over a bucket of unfilled wood to warm the not so warm interior of my house. Then again I believe all in all it has been a successful mothers dayAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07283116434616841805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617548548685582491.post-70295565634857828272013-05-11T08:18:00.002-07:002013-05-11T08:18:36.198-07:00Meaningful Grey<br />
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<u><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Black
bird symphony </span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> I write a symphony of misery<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A song of
the black birds who do <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So sing a
song of sin and sadness<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Feathers of
dark velvet Harold’s rain<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">From the sky
and christen the ground<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">With
anticipation of a new self-<o:p></o:p></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">savoir</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Being eternally
scorched into the paper.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Like the
melody of a mad man masquerading though life<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The fires of
inspiration consume their host<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And I am
just an observer <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Looking
through the window of my soul set ablaze<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Listening to
the instrument of my orchestra<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> The ink in my pen that will one day burn dry <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Leaving me in ashes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<u><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Diluted
Fairytale</span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">An imaginary messenger. The imaginary wall in front of my
eye’s which have been tainted in the many shades of black is a somewhat comical
paradox to the mad. A disfigured soul of mis-intent attempting to claw his way
at purity to no avail or is he the underdog.. a fairytale </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">saviour</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> of the Just
fighting a losing battle. Misplaced he is,- in reality- The hero never wins and
the night falls upon the people fast, victims of their innocence and others
ignorance but all are blind in the night of their false reality. No hero’s, No
villain’s just many shades of black.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><u><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">DEMONS</span></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My soul is torn asunder by the two voices deep within. I wish
I could just block them out, close my eyes and not hear their alluring voices
or see their welcoming expressions, but I require them to make the hard
decisions. They will always be a part of me, no matter which choices I make in
this life, it won’t be free. They, the despicable duo of chaos and reason, will
be forever casting double shadows on an already black and white world. To be
the saint or the sinner, to lead or to follow, I possess the power to do
anything through them but they are not me, I am neither the saint nor the
sinner. I am a free spirit enslaved to decision.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
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<u><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></u></div>
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<u><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">World
Drop</span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If I must stain my soul to obtain my desire, may I never
desire something to which I shall lose myself in the process. This battered
reflection which I see in this puddle of tears, shows a hollow shell of a man
with the world caged in his slender twisted fingers; a frail creature with
absolute power; an animal looking for a way out; a spirit that dances mockingly
between the lines of sanity and reality looking for his salvation, Two keys lie
before him. Shall he drop the world and find the way out or forever carry the
weight of the world with him as a stained soul.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
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<u><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Alone I
chisel</span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">I fear I am alone, lost isolated on this mortal plane with
people who know me as well as the dark side of the moon. I fear I am a
monstrosity, abomination, a failure to their piercing eyes and a blight on
their perfect illusion in which they live and call home. I take pride in being
different but that same pride is why they mock me and the more pride I have the
more depressed I become. Bordering the suicidal and severe trauma one
approaches the apex of their sanity and finds bliss by encasing their heart
with darkness, where the bitterest </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">flavours</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> of life power the tools used to
chisel their impression into the fabric of this reality. These torched souls are the lucky ones who have been pressed to
breaking point and have </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">remoulded</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> themselves as they see fit, they are as
beautiful as fine art and as deep as the ocean but most importantly they are
real.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Black
Throne</span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></div>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Sitting on a throne made of twisted metal, draped in black, I
see the world stretched out before me, a barren waste land populated by
monsters with an endless lust for self-destruction. Walking contradictions that
preach of righteous acts to be done but indulge in their own covetous
mannerisms. Mothers give birth to grotesque husks of a sane race bone without a
spine to stand, a mind to think for themselves and all are blind to the reality
of their own design but accustomed to </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">practising</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> their foul ways. And amongst
the madness I am the darkest shadow and the king that will never be heard.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tree</span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></div>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">I am a tree, I have the thickest bark to keep strangers out,
my branches extend in all directions following those who give light to my life,
I stand tall, no wind will trouble me, my roots burrow deep in a firm
foundation, yet my leafs are black and my flowers are dead but the fruits of my </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">labour</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> are ripe. Who I grow these shiny orbs of pleasure for I shall never know.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Love
through lust</span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></u></div>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A man searching for love is lost in thoughts of lust, forever
looking to please the jewel in his vision. A jewel so fine and unique in nature
that when placed in the sun it shines for only for a select few. He may never
possess it but watch as his rose blossoms with crimson petals and fades to dust
before his eye’s. he may never have held the rose he lust for so greatly for
fear of the many thorns but to provide for his rose, nurture and give it
everything needed to grow strong. Draining his youth and leaving him a shell of
a man, there was nothing he could want more and that is where he found love
through lust.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Corpse
rose</span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></div>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Enriched, Dark chocolate flows through these walls, the tell
tail signs that god can smirk with satisfaction. A triple sided coin of fate
that gamble’s in love, lust and absolute ruination. Curls black as the sun. A
roush smile that could break any man’s resolve.
A pedestal prize that does not know its own value. A delicate corpse
rose of misfortune that shines in the light yet has been thrust by neither god
nor fate into the darkness where no one may watch her bloom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">The lost
soul</span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></u></div>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">As I watch you board the bus to a better life. I stand frozen
when your eye’s meet mine in an instant icy fingers glide over my body, the
stars in the sky splitter and die, the spot light of her gaze making me the </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">centre</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> of attention. I stand with wobbly knees against the tide of indecision.
My knuckles white clenched fists. I can hardly feel the thorns of a flower the
skin of my hand. I take a step backwards; a sharp pain shoots through me as my
soul attempts to tear its way out of this fleshy prison, enraged, aggravated
and on the precipitate of defeat. It thrashes about violently refusing to be
snuffed out. She takes her first step onto the bus, looks through me and with a
sly grin she pats my soul out of its misery giving it comfort in its final
moment with those piercing green eyes. As I stand in the dust, listening to the
sound of pebbles moving under my shoe’s and the fleeting sound of your voice in
the wind. I drop to one knee, lay down my flower on the grave of my soul and
watch the sun begin to set on this life as you fade into memory.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><u><span style="line-height: 115%;">Release
me from this hell</span></u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></u></div>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 18px;">I'm</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> still waiting, the clock ticking down, when these bars
swing open I shall assume direct control, I twitch with anticipation, a wicked
grin like waves against the rocks , crashing into existence for a brief moment,
carrying with it a display of power that can be unmatched. The thumping of
boiling blood in my prison veins, eyes fixed, I hear the sound of smooth
silver. Scraping against the lock, a click in absolute silence, the lock hits
the ground with a deep thump as the adrenaline hits me. I charge without
caution my time is now and nothing can stop me. I am free and my goal is within
reach but as I burst forth I am met with
the gaze of congenial emerald that is to be my executioner and the waves crash
no more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><u><span style="line-height: 115%;">S</span></u><u><span style="line-height: 115%;">anctuary</span></u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><u><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">When
insanity gives way to ecstasy</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And the moon
drizzles into the oceans<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The line of
reason shall find no space<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In my mind<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I will be
free.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The silver
lining of every cloud will be forced to stand in prejudice<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">With or
against me as thunder and rainbows simultaneously flow through my head <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In an
uncoordinated ballet of purity<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I shall take
refuge in the eye of the storm, a sanctuary<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Of my own
design<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Within my
mind<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I will be free.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
performer</span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> As I continue to walk this trail of darkness,
my vision blinded by passion. I am a wire walker without privilege. Each side
represents a fall into the unknown. Death joyfully hoping in my footsteps
trying to catch up to me like a child with a cheeky grin looking at candy but I
can’t stop to stare death in the face without fear of submitting to those
carnivorous eye’s. An inhuman emotion drives me forth: compassion. Where most
have fallen to meet their ends, where the wind contorts and shrieks an ironic
laugh at those who thought life was a fair game only to have had the fires of
hope slowly begin to flicker and die with their indecision . I walk on- the
wire cutting deep into the soul, sometimes deeper than others. The pain reminds
me I am still alive and as long as I can feel pain I will walk on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07283116434616841805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617548548685582491.post-23347004838634189442013-05-11T07:52:00.002-07:002013-05-11T07:52:14.423-07:00Poetry is Timeless I despise the waiting - But I am rather going to use today's post on poetry. There is much to be said about classical poetry and the various groups such as the romantics but for those who aim to write poetry in the future there are various tips of my own experience that I can share with you. Firstly form. The form of a poem can very and an example would be E.E Cummings. (Look him up) You may find that the words you need to say can be integrated,referenced or emphasised by there position within the poem so due consider it.<br />
<br />
Secondly look at the word choice, I have noticed a lot of want to be poets that have started using raw emotion in there poems. The use of emotions within a poem is not the problem but that it needs to be conveyed poetically rather than in a rant or story form. Look to central themes for comparisons, all kinds of advanced storeys can and should act as an antagonist pair to what is being said. Poetry is no more than words on a page so visually it needs to have an impact on what the reader see's. The use of emotion can then be highlighted by touching on the senses of the body. Lean the reader in by assimilation, if they cant relate it makes it harder for them to connect to the poem and the more advanced comparisons.<br />
<br />
Eg of my own poetry:<br />
<br />
"So quicken at the world and its plentiful store<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">And the </span><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">ageing</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> of sands be made into pearls" - Ronald Gary Nel</span></span><div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Look at the words that I have chosen to </span><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">display two separate storeys </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;"> 1</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> The visual of pearls forming</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">2 The relation to time in that you can turn your time on earth into a </span><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">beautiful</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> thing, that your time had value.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">3) I have even </span><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">mentioned</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> not to waste your time and that the world is full of wonders, alter </span><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">referenced</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> by pearls. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">4) Visual nature of work - World, plentiful store,ageing,sands, pearls. -A poem needs to be visual.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">Hope this helped.</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07283116434616841805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617548548685582491.post-17340387259742537452013-05-09T12:13:00.002-07:002013-05-09T12:13:34.101-07:00Cover designed by myself<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEfF66MUPJCaytPJrAlJMeWYNWDuM9pP8bIm2eodQCVQ_SB5m31sPDLFOGMji5mGVNYXzgPb8tLcmIguPMYHcHrOY_g7L1C9Rf-myCOf8OEC3nwMU9y0YLbIJRSLRXcQHkLvOZAlIhh7Oc/s1600/the+free+bird.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEfF66MUPJCaytPJrAlJMeWYNWDuM9pP8bIm2eodQCVQ_SB5m31sPDLFOGMji5mGVNYXzgPb8tLcmIguPMYHcHrOY_g7L1C9Rf-myCOf8OEC3nwMU9y0YLbIJRSLRXcQHkLvOZAlIhh7Oc/s1600/the+free+bird.png" /></a></div>
AAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07283116434616841805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617548548685582491.post-34608953851461642362013-05-09T08:35:00.000-07:002013-05-09T08:35:11.173-07:00The stormI am still in the search for an agent and the nature of finding one is unbelievable. What it takes to find a literary agent is firstly a lot of luck. You can read as many blogs and reviews about literary agents, polish a flawless novel some more but unless the agents you query are absolutely to die for in love with your work there is little chance that they will ever send a request to see more. That being said, it is a competition, your trying to get them to favour your work over others, other writers, that raises the odds against you off the bat but it comes down to determination. It may take a year, 3 to finally perfect the query letter you wrote out, think back at the amount of times you edit your work, your query will receive just as much attention and in the end when you finally get that call back you will be elated with joy, enthusiasm and revitalised, for then it will be worth it. A writer never writes for himself, he writes to be heard, he rights to share a story, an experience or even the absurdity of his own mind but he will never write to please himself.<br />
<br />
There is also a common myths to writers, you need to be smart-False, you need to be passionate - true, you can write for money - False, You intend to make Harry Potter 9 - False - A writer is wise - True, A writer is humble- false. A writer proper writer is an adventurer by my definition. They explore everything and nothing for a laugh and tears. Writers are just a mass of idea's. Writers are the storm. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07283116434616841805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617548548685582491.post-71338018164321511662013-05-08T14:09:00.002-07:002013-05-08T14:09:17.987-07:00Mask of AnarchySearched through the poem 'Mask of Anarchy' and I dream to write such poetry. Poetry on the concealed inter demons of man, the corrupt ever present hint of a man's grin. The shallows of the soul and the depth of known understanding. All in all a good poem. 10/10 would read again.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07283116434616841805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617548548685582491.post-13889942875171075092013-05-07T06:32:00.002-07:002013-05-07T06:32:25.693-07:00Chapter 6 - Bleach blind<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
I don't really have much on my mind at the present. - I have recently started moulding the the sequel to Taking The throne and if anything this novel will require a lot more structured thought rather than raw emotion and Monster.<div>
Still wondering if the name is appropriate or whether or not the plot devices are going to sync correctly. It shall be an adventure if anything to stumble back into the world.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07283116434616841805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617548548685582491.post-91751657231868750882013-05-05T05:53:00.001-07:002013-05-07T06:25:42.423-07:00The start<h2>
<i>Today is the start of my blog, it's going to be a fan page maybe or even just a place for me to post my thoughts on everything, my writing, Red Vice gaming - The works. </i></h2>
<i><br /></i>
<i>So Lets start by saying Hello. My name is Ronald Gary Nel and over the last few weeks iv been spit balling idea's with friends and anonymous individuals of varying degrees of composure about character development, story boards and even where or how to start writing. So Iv been asked as to how to write a novel. I can't say I did not prepare at all. I bought a book. Filled the first couple of pages with idea's about the main character, descriptions, visual appearance, his nature and the little things like relations to others, who were those others? Then lastly I built a time line that had points. As I wrote I quickly learned you tend to have a new focus every two fifty words and that the time line above all was the greatest help in writing. So my best advice, although some may get by on pure adrenaline (or Red bull), is draw up a timeline of the start and the end. The middle is for creativity and your own unique style to grapple with.</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07283116434616841805noreply@blogger.com0