Hm, also, this made me sort of uncomfortable to read, but in an interesting way. I noticed there’s a lot of deliberate spacing choices here. It’s like it’s written in such a way as to force a kind of mental staccato as the reader goes through it. the commas contribute, too. The feeling you’re trying to express comes across as a combination of pleading, yearning, and struggling all at the same time, and the spacing contributes to that.
If that was your intent, that is meta as hell. Very cool.
“Yes.”
/courtly bow
/smile
Of course, now the big question in my mind is, would I have noticed that if I wasn’t in an altered state?
https://i.pinimg.com/originals/0a/38/fa/0a38fa660db3ef781108a181704bbe9a.png
“Here, have another thought provoker…”
“Scribe Ergo Sum Ego”
(“I Write Therefore I Am”)
‘By Me’
"Actors and Actress, this be your ache, to display the truth and envision their Fate. For we are the voices that enlighten the soul to all of the falsehoods that endanger the whole. I am your writer. I am your dream. My power unfolds all that would seem a myth. Within their reason I hold no rhyme, yet without season I am in time. You give me emotion, I give you words. They give me reality, I give them absurds. I have a friend who whispers to me all of the secrets the Gods cannot see. All of the wonders that baffle their minds. All of the answers that they cannot find.
They say we are fiction, I know we are fact. We play out a fantasy to which they react. They shout as they call us feeble and mad, while all the time they know in their minds that they have been had. For we see beyond their wild twisted minds, and tear at their souls with our wild twisted rhymes. They refuse to accept the truth that is theirs, they would rather hang it on our burdened heads. Instead of repenting their sins as they should, they hide behind their too righteous hoods, and say that we have infected their minds.
They long to imprison my sanity, and lock it in their hearts. They dare to say they understand me. They cannot even start to understand the pain that is truth, nor that which is false. For they prey upon the reality that is our art, and strive to disrupt that, that would be their untimely downfall. For what they cannot understand they will seek to destroy. What they cannot control fills them with fear, and the truth cannot be controlled by lies. All that holds life together is born of symbiotic ties, and they refuse to admit that we are an important link in their giant chain of life. Strife is ours to bear, they say. We would be slaves if they had their way. Yet they grow more empty, as days fold into weeks, and weeks into months, and months into years. Their souls are flooded with embittered tears, that they cannot shed, for the fear that their equals will think them weak. So we wait.
We wait, until their mighty mountains crumble into their molten sea of trickery. We wait, until God’s fiery sword of truth washes away their falsehoods from our world. Then we will begin to rebuild a life with the stones of truth and the waters of unity, and in this world born of light we will begin anew. We will dream our own dreams, and think our own thoughts, and bring forth our own creations, without the fear of retaliation from minds twisted, and decayed, by leprous hate. Once again rainbows will light up the sky, and flowers will sing, and horses will fly. Again elves will dance where children can see, and fairies will again play happy and free. The world will be rich with thoughts that should be, and heaven will cherish writers like me."
/bow
/smile
Real quick – is this a typo or a deliberate word choice? It throws off the rhythm, so I can’t really tell.
“Typo. Sorry.”
“If I seem slow to reply, it’s because I am typing one handed, with my left hand. I broke my right arm, up by the socket. Classified a broken shoulder.”
Hm. This one’s tough. It kind of feels… unfinished? I hesitate to say that because I don’t want to insult your work, but I lost the meter in a few places, and the spacing doesn’t really help me keep track of it in those spots. The pacing makes it kind of read like a verbal indictment, but with that loss for me in the middle, it lost some impact because I had to keep going and get back in step, so to speak.
…Suddenly I feel like a bit of a guineapig.
“It was written in one try. I just starting writing words, as they flowed from my brain. Sorry if it’s a bit confusing at times. It’s a prose, a story with rhymes.”
“This is a Rhyming Prose… Which is actually considered a Poem, even though it doesn’t rhyme at the end of each line.”
“A Tale Of Two Kings”
‘By Me’
"High upon a jagged cliff, a castle stands alone. An ancient realm, where two Kings rule this legacy of stone. So long ago a quarrel raged, where Kinsmen fought within, so here I’ll start my nightly tale of two ennobled men.
Once, a Lady’s beauty caused their manly hearts to purr. Because of pride they came to blows. Though brothers they still were they found themselves divided, and unable to decide, just how to claim her hand and choose to which she would be bride. Many nights they sat in thought, their consequences weighing. One performed live sacrifice. The other bowed for praying. The dark haired one, whose name was Giles, had wedlock on his mind, and Nigel, with fine locks of gold, had honor, of a kind.
The dark one told his brother, “For this prize I’ll surely fight!! And all the powers in the world will NEVER stop my might!!”
Said Nigel, “Your not worthy of this fair, devoted child!! She would wilt to feel your touch!! Your breath would drive her wild!!”
“Then you accept my challenge and we duel at break of day!!”
Nodding, Nigel took the glove, then slowly walked away.
Laughing, then, Giles spurred his horse, and rode back to their home. While Nigel strolled along the beach, and watched the waves white foam. The sun soon slipped behind the sea, and vanished from their sight. A waxed moon rose to follow it, and cast its mocking light. The winds blew icy cold around their lonely castle keep. There, Nigel sat by fireside, too much disturbed to sleep. Tomorrow he must war against this man who twins his face. Again he prayed, and asked the Gods to grant him strength, and grace. He laid upon his bed of furs, and closed his eyes to rest, while room away his brother asked the Gods to ‘do their best’. Their polished armor awaited, by the kingpost of the stairs. On morning they awoke to dress with gifted pride, and care. With sword and shield in hand, they walked together down the hall, and rode out to the field, ‘to stand in honor or to fall’.
They stood in silence, eye to eye. She sat among the trees.
“The contest must begin!!” Giles cried, “And damn be him who flees!!!”
Metal clashed with metal, muscles ached with strain. Below the shield, on Nigel’s arm, there grew a bloody stain. Time pushed into hours. Nigel still defended well. But by midnight all his strength was drained, and so the fair one fell. Giles would have struck the final blow, but for his boastful pride, he yearned to flaunt his victory, with Leila by his side.
Yet when he turned, to take her hand, she said with much disdain, “I so abhor your violent side for nothing does it gain.”
Said Giles, “Why wait 'til now to voice your thoughts about this task?”
“I would have told you sooner had you bothered but to ask. But now the seed is planted, Sire, so reap your bitter fruit. Some day this may become a song, for some young minstrel’s flute.”
With that she turned, and whisked away, and left Giles looking pale. So the two, their lesson learned, limped off to drink some ale. Of course there is a moral, friend, so if ever this game you play, be sure the value of your prize is worth the Piper’s Pay."
/smile
Hm, kind of like a bedtime story. Reminds me of Gawain and the Green Knight.
“Shall we talk about something else then?”
/smile
“I LOVE that movie.”
/grin
I haven’t seen a movie of it, just read it. Is the movie good?
“Very good movie. I’ll see if I can find the name of it.”
“Edit: Sword of the Valiant.”
Holy balls, is that a young Connery I see in that poster?
“It sure is.”
/grin
I’ll have to check it out. Kinda seems like the type of movie that could be hard to find onilne, though.
“Might be, it’s kind of old.”
Older than I am. But I like films of all sorts, so that hardly matters.
“And how old would that be, if I may ask?”
/smile