April 2013

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<itemid>152933</itemid>

<eventtime>2013-04-05 09:52:00</eventtime>

<logtime>2013-04-05 13:52:55</logtime>

<subject>Unheard Voice From The Chorus Of Invisible Friends</subject>

<event>

by Emmit Other An invisible chorus Of Angels unseen Whispers of answers Of what might have been Cavalier answers From the as gathered host Misteer with flippance When she needed it most Consequence matters And truth matters more ... In breaking the pattern That was set before Finishing matters But traveling lives In the moments remembered And the answers it gives Life isn't fair Unless you're the judge Tilt your subjective Away from the sludge Dark can be light And light can be fire Find then a balance Between hope and desire.

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<entry>

<itemid>153168</itemid>

<eventtime>2013-04-17 10:22:00</eventtime>

<logtime>2013-04-17 14:22:16</logtime>

<subject>Seven Things That Caught My Attention</subject>

<event>

by Emmit Other Seven things seek and sought the attention of my mind. The first is that those who seek the least interference in their plans Harp to the heavens about the glory of the free will And yet are always amazingly surprized by manifestation ... Of Unitended Consequences. There are realities that are just as real as this one Right beside our own Made real Because they take place in our own reality as a subset. The key to being truly unpredictable Is that sometimes you have to find a box And lounge around in it for a while Fortunately there are a lot of boxes out there. There is no master story teller But just as well there are stories and tellers of tales And all the important hallmarks of wicked thinking Make the consequences indistuigishable from the purported real thing. There are no cats in Amerika But America is full of them All kind and description, fat, good, bad, lulz and actuall The actual kind are the epicenter of the ecosystem of dreams because they The parable of the bespectacled duck swims true As it was in my father's time as it is true today The tea leaf no more knows its link than the company that came before it And the wheel of Ka rolls on and the spokes know it not A tool of sufficiently advanced design Makes even nails look like parabola On the rounded wheel triangle thing that isn't Because even the wheel can be reinvented for functionally intensive purposes.

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<entry>

<itemid>153434</itemid>

<eventtime>2013-04-17 11:54:00</eventtime>

<logtime>2013-04-17 15:54:16</logtime>

<subject>Yellow and Blue Makes Green</subject>

<event>

by Emmit Other The Old Kragnar would have no trouble with the most recent case But then, the New Kragnar had slain Seven Times Seven Offends In the Year Since Enlightenment But Spared Seven More For Innocence of Evil. Not Being Part of the Problem Was Worthy of Consideration. But a Slayer of Magic Who Took Any Part of It Was by Definiation A Maker of Magic And Thus A User of Magic For Magic means many things Wonder, Illusion, Power, Dreams, Quarantine But in the hands of someone educated in its uses It is a tool No more than a carpenter might use a hammer, saw or nail And tools in the leverage of the universe Were more oft than not secrets in its understanding This thus was why its inflection And infection Had tormented the mind of the Barbarian so For surity had given way to a fleckering of wisdom His days in the south well spent Undertaking philosophies of Men mingled with Mortality Blood of Angels upon his lips and spoken words no man was meant to know But mainly he killed things It was his job And he was good at it But the Spinner of Destiny Was a despoiler Abusing his powers on the unsuspecting city Twisting this way and that The fates of others like so many many puppet strings For his own amusement And agrandizement But the thing one had to understand about the Spinner Was that he Lied like a son of a bitch His explanations for all things reasonable Nuanced and nuanced until there was no longer Any longer any logical appropriate coarse of action Save his own. What He Wanted. Not What You Wanted. Who Were you Going to Believe? Him? Or Your Lying Deceiving Backstabbing Senses? Old Kragnar would have said, "A good argument, But I think I shall counter with STAB." Lies and illusions Were cut through with the Blade of Death Rather easily The Purity of the Thing was the Thing Itself. New Kragnar had true morality Rather than the illusion thereof Which flexed itself in seeking truth Instead of imposing itself on the universe He accepted failure and flaws And was thus flawed and failed Cracks that the Spinner could use To thwart as he had so many before him But Kragnar's time in the south was not wasted Nor had his training abandoned him For where purity had fled Sophistry returned And an understanding of the value of reason And instinct Primal reverence in nature Singing in silly circles drinking tea beneath the moon in the holy hills around the city of sin But it gave him an understanding Flexibility was important But nuance could be used To do whatever you needed it to do And thus the Spinner's greatest strength Was also his greatest weakness The spider sat Fat and content Bloated and fed in the center of his web But upon feeding his ego with his farcical code of lies He could not move Could not defend himself From Parry - That though truth is not absolute it does exist Riposte That though destiny is what you make it there will always be forced beyond your control Thrust Good existed as a concept so long as it was actually used Slice And so long as the concept was used so to would its opposite Crush And judgement could be procured in the case of knowing offense Kragnar smiled to himself As he held the skull of the Spinner beneath the stars As its blood oozed to the ground below To be a barbarian had its moments Even when tainted with nuanced adjucication Acid on the purity of absolutism But the moments of enjoyment could still be had. could still be had indeed.

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<entry>

<itemid>153686</itemid>

<eventtime>2013-04-17 15:32:00</eventtime>

<logtime>2013-04-17 19:32:05</logtime>

<subject>Thumpity Thump Thump</subject>

<event>

by Emmit Other The Very Stuff of Life That was where it came from That old hat and I Used to make quite a pair. The dalliances of delights I used to stupefy and mystify The total and perfect combination Of surreptitious prestidigitation With just a dash of the real thing Old hat, I'm sure I hear you say It's been done Real magic and Magick together But that's what I was An old magician With an old hat Family heirloom Seven generations back. Loud mouth kids Ungrateful brats Will tell you that I didn't care about it Didn't need it They're liars That's for sure. I never had a life because of that thing Foisted upon me by my father Passed down from generation to generation Something about the blood of a god Or crushed Ambrosia from the Mount of Olympus It was never really clear And the story changed from one wine bottle to the next But let me say this The practical effect was just the same. It brought life Where there was none. It made plants grow And flowers bloom And animals and food multiple Like the hand of Christ Himself I don't have all the answers But that had sure solved the questions That people asked about 'why?' Even if it was only for a time. For a while I did some do-gooding But a man deserves to retire Doesn't he? Good deeds don't pay the bills But over eager wide eyed yokels sure did Until the Theft that is. Swiped my heirloom Between them and that God Awful Rabbit Stupidest Familiar I ever had Only kept him on for father's sake. Figured he'd die eventually. Go figure. That's magical creatures for you. Bad enough that they stole the thing But when they turned it inside out And brought to life That Abominable Snow Man Prancing and Dancing About Mocking my inability to retrieve the hat Frittering away the stuff that could cure disease End Drought End Hunger Bring Plenty All so his wide doe eyes Could look about at the world With unborn wonder His unlife came At the expense of mine And any flickering good I might still do With the fumes of what was left of my life Passed on to some random orphan mayhap Who knows what great hero might have been born But for the snowman? And what's it do? What's it do with the gift of life itself? Up to the north pole With not but snow and ice and elves and caribou for company. Nothing. That's what he's done with it. Nothing. Every time I get close Tump tump and away Sliding slippery nonsense Who can catch a creature of snow In Snow? After a month or two I gave up. What was the point? So here's to a career in magic And the silent glory of drinking yourself to death In your declining years. Fuck you snow man Fuck you.

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<entry>

<itemid>154010</itemid>

<eventtime>2013-04-30 04:42:00</eventtime>

<logtime>2013-04-30 08:42:19</logtime>

<subject>Wordslinger's Duty</subject>

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by Emmit Other and Redwin Tursor The walk back from the diner Is longer than I thought But the sky and stars are out And I am pleased by the results And I feel an etherial pinging A converging of several thoughts that come together all at once And I know... This is the moment of shining This is the moment of stillness This is the moment of the trading and changing of tides I walk the beam And I rule the city nameless I am sometimes the name that must not be spoken And sometimes the namer The shadow in the recesses of the mind Unfeared and unbowed It is not because of heroic metal But heroic yearning But not even that really A simple belief that no one No one No one Should ever be alone in the dark Drowning in the water with a cramped leg Trying to reach for the raft For the edge And forced to swim to shore When a simple hand of help would do And understanding That there is no someone else Unless that's you And you can't do everything But you must do something And it is killing you A little bit at a time Every single day. Fortunately she is there Putting you back together Like a wizard's confidence trick One shard at a time One day at a time Until the soul is whole For a time And she puts it back together He has found love And he will find what he is looking for For the wordslinger is a complex man And no box of Shrodinger can hold him He is in and out and all about All at the same time For a proper understanding of Sideways Time God Time Angel Time Angle Time Awful Time Prime Time Keystone Time I walk the ways And I know the ways of the wheel The ways of Ka One 8th of the Egyptian soul And so much more The ways of fire meet at the edge of earth The backdoor door to the will Through the id unspoken A master of one So rarely a master of many The symbol is the thing In the wordslinger's quiver His Katet is strong In any given work The drawing of the three Is really five Or four Basically four The King of Cups Generous to a fault Jovial Ghost of Christmas Past The Traveler of Many The end And the beginning A mirror that isn't And a namer of names The Knight of Wands Here again There again Bright and quick And the Queen of Cups Ice as Fire As Earth Shattered Together Separate Woven These are the things that the wordslinger brings Words and spirit on whispered wings He doesn't make But he does make solid Though the structures bare And the meter Squalid Dapper Suits And handy suites Awaken morals Undo defeats The words demand And the piper hears Put to electron Ere else this thing disappears Not prophesy Not fate Not marked hand of doom Simply reflection of reflection In the unpainted California room There are Doors To inside the tower Unlike Roland I have the power To break the patterns So laid before I've done it once And I'll do it more By my breakage Shall all things crack The karma mounted And the bonuses stack The horn shall blow And the king shall fall Rise up then Yellow And take the wall The Dreamer comes And roars aloft The Railway's Haven She isn't soft But she is a nexus Of many things From healing kisses To nasty stings The story's ending Another starts Many Ka-tets And many parts All the levels Can be commanded When the slinger Won't be demanded. And so the ember fades And the shadows of night go long This palaver is done now The words of my speech Not so high Not so mighty But true Very true in their own way as I speak them And I shall know them oft And again So mote it be. Amen.

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