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<livejournal>
<entry>
<itemid>133552</itemid>
<eventtime>2011-05-06 04:42:00</eventtime>
<logtime>2011-05-06 08:42:35</logtime>
<subject>A Time of Ominous Portent</subject>
<event>
by Emmit Other My own skies were gray And so I looked for Sunlight within. And found a sliver or two. Not a clear blue sky But enough to make the rain go away for a while. Enough to help me remember the better times. And times to come. But there is a wide view from the tower. And I could see storms on the horizon. Petty quislers messing with things They didn't really understand. Breaking sacred vows of obedience and charity To feed the basest of their desires And petty thoughts. Too far to ride. Too far to fly. I cannot be everywhere. I cannot do everything. For every lesson of power I learn No man will ever hold the universe at his command Save perhaps One And the truth obscured by design there. There are consequences for interference with the natural order of things Ripples Even unseen Ripples in everything we do. All I can do is make the best choices I can Exert what power I can And hope for the best. But even in the most optimistic scenario Free will will reign It must, or all else is then a mockery. Slender fingers weave a dark tapestry of fate That will shatter so many delicate bridges That I have worked so long And so hard To build To protect And to maintain. The value of some things is never understood until it is gone. And sometimes not even then. Lovers and Poets can See. It helps us appreciate what is while it lingers and lasts. But destruction is always easier than creation. And in some forms of chaos there is beauty But not in this. Not in the destruction of love. So let the dominoes fall ere the stirring of the cauldron Match the workings of the Scottish cursed play All are One And One are All By design And then by Fall The light of truth will show the way. Then the shadows Will wisp or stay.
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<entry>
<itemid>133776</itemid>
<eventtime>2011-05-21 02:11:00</eventtime>
<logtime>2011-05-21 06:12:04</logtime>
<subject>Taught and Slack</subject>
<event>
By Emmit Other Six pall bearers stood under the casket The Demon, The Inquisitor, The Fool The Architect, the Poet and the Phoenix. The Demon laughed at his demise. The Inquisitor was justified in his surmise. The Fool tried to lighten the situation With inappropriate humor An animatronic corpse Giggling and pointing. The mourners were not amused. The Architect noted the death By time and place Right down to the last second. The probabilities of action The consequences of inaction Executor and Executioner As neutral as nature herself. The poet waxed eloquent Observing the bitter sweet sorrow That had brought the Lover to this point A sweet eulogy That brought tears to all present But the demon Whose laughter was not from the Fool. Noted in time Witnessed in the value of memory Captured in the caress of words The joys and the sorrows Observed as largely unobserved. Leaving the Phoenix his decision. Once a hero. No more. Once a knight. No more. A self defining entity Answerable only to himself Incorporating the best elements of the past As dictated by his own decisions. The tale of travel was nearly ready The song of the lever nearly sung. The Lover had been unable to abide his transformation As sufficient to merit that which is. The Phoenix proved stronger in the end. The very act of survival weakened the Lover Tragic in its demise as Romeo and Juliet. But the irony Properly chronicled by the Poet Was the power of the Phoenix to defy death At least this Kind of Death. Fire bringing life And rebirth. Pain And joy at the same time. A promise of a future The only price being humiliation. The Phoenix knew well the difference Between humility in the pliance to change And to learn And humiliation Repeated and endless. Dignity was one of the pillars Of his chosen redoubt And dignity in Humiliation was a difficult thing indeed. Illusions long since shattered. The truth and the price of progress long since laid bare Situational circumstance had forced a lingering sleep Resembling death To which the Lover could well be attributed death If not given rebirth. Thus a decision meet be made. And the Phoenix decides it still. Was Humiliation worth the theoretical joy? Betrayal or dissillusionment would say no. But Opportunity Cost is a harsh mistress. Such things are never lightly undertaken. But at some point the wise say enough. The only question was How much was enough? It was a question only the Phoenix could answer. And the question is open still. Standing there looking at the dead In the casket In the rain. Such is the nature of life. A moment of choice As yet unwrapped.
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<entry>
<itemid>133967</itemid>
<eventtime>2011-05-23 00:47:00</eventtime>
<logtime>2011-05-23 04:47:38</logtime>
<subject>Musings</subject>
<event>
I come here to speak often because there are less people who watch...in fact so far as I know there are only three, and only one who watches with any regularity. But sometimes I like to be able to say what I think, even if I have to say it with poetry, since sometimes the easily offended can't take the truth, and also because sometimes I change my mind about something and the harshness of the words that cannot be unsaid are much easier to smooth over when obfuscated in imagery...especially when those who are most easily offended are unable to speak the language of dreams. The other advantage I have of posting what I really think here is that it used to be my political blog so I can say whatever I want and you have to come looking for it. Having some place that I can say what I want out loud for all the world to hear where it is unlikely to be found (as long as I'm not dumb enough to run for politics) can be cathargic...and sometimes I need to be able to speak out loud to get to where I'm going. And I don't exactly have a confidant anymore of the caliber I once had. I have spent a lot of the last six or seven months deciding who I am, and this week I've realized that I need to do more. It might seem vain or foolish, but I'm a man of drive and action. But without a direction the drive either flounders or I feel as if I am wasting my time, and nothing slows me down like the feeling I'm wasting my time. It applies to everything, from my goals to my entire purpose for being (ie what goals I set and why I set them.) One thing I've come to realize is that for too long the side of my personality I call the Architect, has been the central figure of my being. I put him there. The Architect has his merits; honest, honorable, completing of duty, organized, fulfiller of goals, but it has also resulted in a distinct lack of PASSION for a lot of what I do, and many goals or ideas have either wandered into my core goals for a sheer desire to have SOMETHING there or because I've hoped to use collusion and alliance to achieve what it is I want indirectly despite that lack of passion. Alliance is still a useful thing, but without my own Passion I'm wasting my time. I'm wasting everyone's time. I almost did another poem tonight, but I wanted to post my thoughts in clearer form instead. I'm coming to understand the need for ritual and spirit. Spirit to me is, at the least, the part of our minds that occupies our subconscious but I am learning to talk with it, and deal with it by old means and new. I am finding a balance between the world of Shadow and the world of Daylight...and rather than 'The Architect' the most powerful aspect of my personality is what I call the Phoenix. I've given it a lot of names...because a part of a personality when you don't have MPD is a bit like pointing to a bit of land on a map and saying "France"...without the map. Yeah you have a vague idea where it is but unless you're very good at geography it becomes a bit more vague than that. I've called this part of my personality the Hero, the Knight and even the Survivor...and all of them are there. It is also a seeker of truth. It is my passion, my drive. Most of the good things that have come to me have been from that true part of my nature, and while my true friends and allies see that, I've often felt alienated because they didn't see it as strongly as I knew it was there; often obfuscated by the other parts of who I am. I think the most important part of my thought process to occur this week are two basic understandings: The first is a realingment: Instead of the Architect in the center of seven aspects ranged from light to dark; I'm putting the Phoenix in the center with an aspect of Shadow to Sunlight. This might sound like gibberish to you, but if you understand the power and meaning of symbols at the base level of who we are; its a lot more than rearranging the deck chairs on the titanic. It means a complete realignment on some levels without actually changing anything on a level that anyone but me might recognize. On some levels it is only what we do that matters. On others, it doesn't matter at all. And that is the second. I've long known I had the gift to see people at their best; their true potential. It might sound naive but I recognize it as a gift. Treat people as they CAN be, rather than as they are, and you can inspire them, and help them to become that person, at least to the extent that they truly want it for themselves. What is new is the understanding that I have the opposite now too. I can see people at their bases selves, such that most who truly see the world at that level have had far darker experiences than I have, who don't believe me when I say that I can see the world like that. Its kind of a lonely feeling, and more importantly they often know I possess the first gift. It doesn't matter. What matters is the knowledge that I possess both and finding a balance about how to see the world as it is, as it can be at both extremes, and what to do about it. Finding the right balance of pragmatic wisdom and idealism that drives passion. Which is why a silly shift in names I call myself matters. Because show me a man's dreams, and I'll show you the man.
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