tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13771020842780286992024-03-08T19:57:29.629+00:00Developing WordsWe are not wild. We are not innocent.Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.comBlogger97125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-39800608871780870482015-03-23T22:10:00.001+00:002015-03-23T22:10:44.407+00:00Yet it is Nowhere but HereThere she is...<br />
As the train rumbles on,<br />
mesmeric lights and stoic buildings<br />
rise from the landscape.<br />
To what do I owe this longing,<br />
this love?<br />
Geography...<br />
the particular formation<br />
of streets against trees <br />
against parks against streams?<br />
Or music... the aural pleasures? <br />
The whistlings birds and <br />
whistling neighbours?<br />
No... is it the peoples, <br />
the familiar race we call Other? <br />
Those who cause us suffering but <br />
so much else besides?<br />
I think that might be it... <br />
damn. <br />
This could be anywhere.Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-11893439949209366112014-08-19T22:37:00.000+01:002014-08-19T22:37:05.974+01:00Vessels on VesselsNear-endless rows of red chairs. What secrets are absorbed in their thick fabric, along with so much sweat and dead hair? We are merely two of millions. What care has the carriage for us? Our relationship is fleeting, yet without it we might not survive. What care has the carriage for our woes? Vessels carrying vessels, it is a cycle we are unable to break, for now. Are we desirable? What if we cease tomorrow? I may try. I will do no such thing.<br />
<br />
This track is our rock. Less exertion on the muscles, but comparable views. A darn sight more chimneys, perhaps. But hard to begrudge others of heat.<br />
<br />
Again, with the long deep dark in place of the ground. Rows upon rows of... inanimate beasts. Not monsters. Not now. We are joined by more vessels. Countless. Just so much sweat and dead hair.<br />
<br />
Green. Green. Brown. Green. Green. Green. There is an undeniable beauty in nature, yet I cannot describe it now. Passing through. There is no time to lose? A task for the wicked, not the pure of heart. On the contrary, time can only be lost. We must not win.Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-79787251903864650652013-02-06T21:50:00.003+00:002013-02-06T21:53:31.874+00:00SandThese walls, they stand<br />
All by hand and by sweat<br />
Guard, my forgotten land<br />
To them is owed a debt<br />
<br />
Brave now all, for quiet<br />
Labour's cost will tell<br />
Bruiséd brow, beyond duty<br />
These lips they shall not sell<br />
<br />
Vigilance, it now approaching<br />
Mother's lonely night<br />
These ramparts still enduring<br />
To my failing sight<br />
<br />
Crack, aheard from far<br />
Tis a rumour to be feared<br />
Make grasp and to tremble<br />
For this world to disappear<br />
<br />
As the eye, o' wandering vagrant<br />
With joy I do recall<br />
What pride must accomplish<br />
For the mighty great to fall<br />
<br />
And lo, now come the Heavens<br />
So sudden, yet expected<br />
At once horrified and<br />
Relieved; elated and dejectedXelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-34937946744513504742010-10-14T21:23:00.000+01:002010-10-14T21:27:50.313+01:00Two Believe (draft/unfinished)Can you believe it?<br /><br />Always, you know that. Consternation isn't nearly as effective as acceptance.<br /><br />One day it'll blind you, and I'll be here.<br /><br />Oh, I wish you wouldn't. Can't we get along for once?<br /><br />Then refrain from baiting me. You know I can't help it. I'm not the cat, I can learn.<br /><br />Can you? On what is this assertion based?<br /><br />Well, it's based on my conviction. Do I need anything else?<br /><br />You might not, but I certainly do. Isn't that important to you?<br /><br />Of course! But I've got to come first. Who will benefit if I don't? I won't, and how will you know different anyway?<br /><br />Your words may not be clear, but your conviction is. I'm sorry for pushing you. I should know by now that the cause is floundering, if not entirely lost. <br /><br />Thank you, really. Is that the first apology you've given me? I can't recall a time...<br /><br />Oh no! I am always and forever apologising. My tongue wags from the continual strain. But I do not blame you; someone has to wear my shoes. I'm happy to take the pain.<br /><br />Again with your shoes, why don't you see someone about them? It might keep your tongue in your head long enough for you to speak sense the next time it comes out. I never understand you.<br /><br />Who would I see? Who could I see? Impossible. My shoes and my tongue are perfect. You'd have me gag! No conception of reality, that's your problem. That's why I can't get through to you.<br /><br />The cheek! The drama! Who am I to you? Not your equal. How could I be? I'd have to believe it to be your equal. Ah, it's not fair.<br /><br />We are different. That's why we work. Please don't make this personal. Can you imagine how boring - how utterly depressing - it would be if we were the same?<br /><br />I suppose you're right - I didn't learn - you always are. Does that make me a liar or a fool? I just wish...<br /><br />Finish your sentences, man! Good God…Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-8625571720257471082010-08-11T19:49:00.008+01:002010-08-11T20:07:26.084+01:00... and the Students DanceThe librarian has absolute licence to kill. <br />"Jump up and shoot me at any time!" exclaimed the shaky lecturer with the nervous walk. Shakespeare did not write about himself, at least during his lifetime. <br />Perhaps he died from sheer pressure, the weight of literature - present and future - on his soul. An academic, this waverer is; yet he speaks as if one struck dumb.<br />We listen, though. We do. A tide of whispers may rise and fall in regular turns; but we are respectful, it is the least that we can be. <br />Remember who we are.Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-78809702927576927962010-07-29T23:38:00.004+01:002010-07-30T23:53:43.944+01:00Ever NothingI am alive! Now that I know I feel so free. Yes, yes, "the nature of freedom" and all that... but let's not spoil things just yet. Allow me my moment of joy, won't you?<br /><br />I realise that I am perhaps speaking to no one, but no one is sometimes the best one to speak to, no? You can never respond, thus you can never inform me (honestly or not, thankfully) that I am wrong, or severely misled. Hallelujah.<br /><br />Would you betray me? Ah, but you cannot betray me; the best friend one can have! Though... you cannot feel for me; my joy is sinking in. Quiet jubilation, my cross was very thin.<br /><br />I should return to my freedom, or rather my sense of freedom - for nothing is really free - but that is precisely my point, don't you see? You must see. That I feel free is far more relevant to me, and you, than any argument that I am not free. Who is to say? What evidence is there? What evidence can there be? Can evidence <span style="font-style:italic;">be</span>? Perception is king. Here it is, I am it. I do it, and I cannot stop. Perception is.<br /><br />If I stop perceiving when I die does that make it any less real? What if I die? What is real when reality is irrelevant? Who are you? No one. Just the same as me.Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-54609667270183496602010-04-16T16:16:00.002+01:002010-04-16T20:01:24.804+01:00Nothing, Lost and Never NewIn the morning light I saw <br />The prints of your feet<br />And fear was with me then<br />I dreamed that you'd <br />Been carried away <br />By madness or bad men<br /><br />As the day grew longer<br />My fear did too<br />I couldn't see <br />What was in front of me<br />Only what was <br />Far and long gone<br /><br />Grasping at straws<br />In hallways and dark doors<br />Nothing did slowly return<br /><br />It said to me<br />"You, be free<br />Desperate and young<br />And, son,<br />I'll always be waiting"Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-56152373291824645432010-03-13T13:21:00.001+00:002010-03-13T13:25:47.829+00:00What is or can Will be?But it still leaves the <br />question, as it remains; <br />what is this paralysis <br />- this waking death - <br />that cripples me, <br />and only does not when <br />I turn to confront it?<br />Doth it play with me, am I a <br />pawn to its orchestrator? <br />Laughter do I hear behind <br />the curtain, while flailing <br />I burrow further into <br />this terrible illusion.<br />So it is. If my actions are moot, <br />my mind can be free, hopefully.<br />Dreaming this ignorant bliss. <br />What of the mind as it seems? <br />What is the mind? Is the mind? <br />Trapped in ignorant bliss.Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-4330547411570104762010-03-06T12:00:00.000+00:002010-03-06T12:07:57.105+00:00The Brighter StarI'll look for you<br />to keep me true<br />to follow through<br />I'll look for you<br /><br />you they took<br />when you they found<br />but for you I still seek<br />over hill or under ground<br />in sundered valley or creek<br /><br />I'll look for us<br />to grant us peace<br />what shame we must<br />for us<br /><br />look for me<br />by the sea<br />when I'm free<br />look for me<br /><br />pleaseXelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-52192712273943419692010-02-10T23:37:00.004+00:002010-02-18T11:25:02.923+00:00FreedomBut what could I do? Helplessness is far too often overlooked. I revel in it. <br /><br />For the most part, being helpless is the best situation to find oneself in. It frees the faculties. Acceptance is what really requires tweaking, it can be a hard (thing) to swallow. Just look around. You know we're a minority, and they know it too.Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-89881368304862222472010-01-06T16:08:00.000+00:002010-01-06T16:19:00.438+00:00Self-SermonAgain I find myself<br />Again I wonder<br />Lost against a <br />patchwork of dreams.<br /><br />Yet admiration proves its resilience<br />For despair can only last so long.<br />Perhaps a lifetime is enough.<br /><br />Feel it, live it<br />With arms outstretched <br />And all to lose<br />that is, nothing.<br /><br />But it is the best kind of nothing<br />It knows itself<br />Like I know you. <br />Now I touch and I feel <br />and it does return to me.<br /><br />To be cold is to be alive<br />Do not forget it.<br />Forgive the dead language,<br />The necessary vessel of this message<br />Were I able, I would forsake it. <br /><br />But I will continue to write, <br />I can make no apologies.<br />It is what I desire, <br />and life will find an end for that.Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-69376666177769157672010-01-06T15:59:00.000+00:002010-01-06T16:00:29.354+00:00At least deserves to liveOnce we recognise that <br />what we do is meaningless<br />we can indulge in our passions.<br /><br />Will you know yourself?<br />Is he another man?<br />Whom does time service;<br />for where do we have to go?<br /><br />Can you still feel?<br />Do you look to the future?<br />Is memory worth more than life?<br /><br />I used to know things - he used to know things<br />where are they? What became of me or him?<br /><br />It and they appear to me as<br />the threads of an old life;<br />it should not be mine.<br /><br />What do I feel?<br />What is this question?<br />Utter mortality;<br />a cheek to the end.<br />To wrap it in language <br />is to cushion the fear;<br />for it comes in waves.<br /><br />It used to be an abstract presence.<br /><br />The less I say the more ambiguous I can be.<br />On a road of self-destruction.<br /><br />Suicide could be so poetic.Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-35355710314872682412009-12-02T01:43:00.001+00:002009-12-02T01:43:42.810+00:00Once More...Let me live<br />You are not me<br />I think.<br /><br />or<br /><br />Please, allow me to live.<br />I do not know you, you are not me.<br />This is because I think, and I think that you do not.<br /><br />What do I know?Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-83265515533522873462009-12-02T01:40:00.000+00:002009-12-02T01:43:25.035+00:00... With MeaningPeriod<br />Trying<br />Method<br />Control<br />Partial stop<br />Full stop<br />Punctuation<br />Punctuate<br />Punct<br />Punct...<br />Punct...uation<br />Meaningful symbols<br />To aid the readerXelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-45151204758360699182009-11-19T17:38:00.001+00:002009-11-19T17:40:02.906+00:00Two pieces of proseStatic:<br /><a href="http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/Xelanath/444561/">http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/Xelanath/444561/</a><br /><br />Prelude to a Conversation:<br /><a href="http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/Xelanath/478629/">http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/Xelanath/478629/</a>Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-8190470624687807392009-11-02T16:12:00.003+00:002009-11-02T16:42:55.228+00:00A Mirror, Despite ItselfI see them and I want to be them. If but for a second. <br />I buy into their projected identities. Am I lost?<br />I wish to be a cypher. An amorphous shapeless <br />ever-changing Everyman, or noman. <br />To be everyone and everything. <br />Give me time.<br />We will always struggle against the tide.Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-86484233667064086282009-10-28T21:01:00.001+00:002009-10-28T21:01:42.105+00:00My Self and Not II walk, and a memory emerges, <br />Sudden and uninvited.<br />Overwhelming, it controls me.<br /><br />I bite my tongue, I curse it.<br />Precious tears touch my cheeks, <br />What pain; it fills inside me.<br /><br />Bursting into external action.<br />What hope, what life, <br />do I see before me?<br /><br />Barely I resist, but now I'm only failing.<br />I see it; time. Ticking ever closer.<br />Desperately I exist, but now I'm only fading.Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-44123444600436475142009-10-15T11:43:00.001+01:002009-10-15T11:43:44.614+01:00Appointment KeptMust try harder<br />Again the bell tolls<br />Given what we know<br />Lucky tender souls<br /><br />Hiding from trust<br />Free for want of this<br />Slow to gain the same<br />Easier to miss<br /><br />Time for open hat<br />Ask what are we here<br />Grasp the empty knot<br />Only for our fear<br /><br />That it came whole<br />Glad for longer day<br />See not in the sun<br />But further awayXelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-85871992615100236512009-10-06T23:43:00.000+01:002009-10-06T23:50:42.132+01:00Be MeWould you define my nature<br />Would you erase my choice, for me?<br />Would you like to control me as<br />You believe yourself free? <br />I cannot maintain the struggle<br />Dead or without will; I need to be.<br />Or not to be.Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-86540718121866086522009-10-06T23:39:00.001+01:002009-10-06T23:42:22.390+01:00WeLife. Absurd.<br />Desire. Disorder. <br />No judgement.<br />No justice.<br />Is.<br />My needs will never be met. <br />Temporary at best, hunger never sated.<br />I learn. I conflict with external forces.<br />I think. Considerate. Selfish. For no one.<br />Sparsity.<br />I hope. And I continue to.<br />I finally recognise the futility <br />Of existence.<br />I must consider suicide.<br />No more.Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-17682724967560486152009-09-29T22:51:00.000+01:002009-09-29T22:52:34.496+01:00HowIdeological society.<br />Lack of identity, humanity.<br />Tyranny. It is art.<br />Turning on self, no one is exempt.<br />Melancholy, grey, silent. Oppression.<br />Good. Progress toward nothing and nowhere.<br />Learning the meaningless. Unable to speak.<br />Truth is irrelevant.<br />Logic is circular. The.Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-80871897825157428982009-09-28T15:55:00.003+01:002009-09-28T15:57:59.349+01:00One Divided by InfinityWe craft our material identity continually to more easily be digested by others. Present ourselves in sound bites and snippets. We are not ourselves. We are who they think we are, who we appear to be. Ever-changing, ever-constant? Even the self we project is governed by society, by our perception of a societal truth. What remains? Nothing. Nothing identifiable.Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-14395749820108733632009-09-26T17:18:00.002+01:002009-09-28T15:24:18.804+01:00Flawed, Pro BonoI have long been a fraud<br />Too tired to follow my own advice:<br />We believe in love, we think<br />but the feeling is not so easy to find.<br /><br />We assume it will be<br />Just like that <br />You'll know, I'll know<br />As a matter of fact.<br /><br />But it's only opinion<br />Right from the start<br />Subject to manipulation<br />You're left from the heart.<br /><br />Repeat it again<br />What does it mean?<br />Is it a person or people<br />Or something unseen?<br /><br />Are you grasping for an alibi <br />Someone you once knew;<br />A couple who are happy<br />They are the lonely few.<br /><br />Don't waste your time chasing<br />An abstract idea<br />By waiting for an abstract person,<br />Who will never appear.<br /><br />Live and be passionate<br />Enjoy what you feel<br />Embrace your desire<br />Remember what's real.Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-58012379004734980482009-09-18T16:08:00.002+01:002010-04-16T16:32:22.770+01:00Actions and unforeseen consequences can sometimes be both astounding and intensely insignificant.Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377102084278028699.post-21429089827078268312009-09-13T16:25:00.001+01:002009-09-13T16:26:58.217+01:00Define: IYou can try to be objective <br />but you never will. <br />Subjective by default. <br />You are an individual, <br />no matter how much you wish <br />otherwise. <br />Your eyes, your dreams, <br />your doubts, your life, <br />your death.Xelanathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745398121879487940noreply@blogger.com0