zk/writing/poetry/fossils.md

%title Fossils
:writing:poetry:fossils:

## High school poetry notebook

### Cleaning Woman

'''
I'd clean for him
    I would
        but
Cleaning, I'd hope
    for a little
        something back.
I told him
I told him once
Telling, I'd hoped
    for something
        to fill me.
But I cleaned for him
    as he'd asked,
        my husband.
And here I am
and nothing's changed.
'''

-----

### Free-write poem

> This was also labeled "free ponies :) :) :)" and I only vaguely remember why.

'''
The eroticism of oranges
    How seductive,
Freakshows pondering
    A murder weapon.

Secret clementine
    Tells of a third, dense.
The first in somnambulant arms
    Of the second, citrus fancier.

Live as normal,
Death by paper.
'''

-----

### Ode to Turn Signals

'''
A steady white lights
    Stops, none goes;
Though on blinking happy off
    Turns, informing.

Click flashing click
    By turning on grants
And behind, those praising
    Seeing, now know.

So up or to down leftright
Click, push and becomes.
'''

-----

### Syntax poem

'''
Every time I fall,
The ground tells me I'm in love.
Be he the tamed?
No, family sheep?
Spades, four,
And one white, domesticated,
Was my favorite.

He who could, he had
Need in friends,
Your better cream!
Ice, you love got
    All need.
And 'cause love is
    All low.
And love is
    Places.
'''

-----

### Dialog poem

'''
I love this song.
    What are you saying?
    You hate it.
    Any sense of melody is lost
    In chords
    Obscured by the weight of Tone.
    Harmony rules itself out.
Think of the meaning, not just the music.
    The words are in Spanish.
Does that matter?
    Spanish words in chords so thick,
    You have to peer through the fog of harmony for the light of melody.
    And on top,
    Cheap sound effects.
I suppose I don't listen to it much.
That's why I like it.
    I suppose you don't listen to it much.
    That's why you hate it.
'''

-----

## The Four Winds
!{In *ally*}

'''
I.
Borne through air,
    Close my eyes.
Wind ruffles hair
    Soul sighs,
    Heart flies;
I’m the wind.

I flow east:
    Over the plains,
Over land creased.
    Current refrains,
    Cloud stains
As I build.

Trees bow at my
          Will
To move drives me
          Onward
I push through
          Mountains
Do nothing but
          Divert
The rain as I
          Flow.


II.
Borne through air -
    Rise up high -
Driven there,
    Earth nigh,
    I sigh;
I’m the wind.

I flow west:
    Past the lakes,
Water my guest;
    Thunder makes
    Noise, wakes,
As I storm.

Sand flies at my
          Force
Builds as I
          Push
Across the
          Land
Flows beneath my
          Self
Means nothing to
          Wind.


III.
Borne through air,
    Through the night
And dawn fair.
    No fight,
    Only flight;
I’m the wind.

I flow south
    On the ocean,
On delta’s mouth
    My motion
    Just notion
As I breathe.

Waves break as I
          Drive
Past the thin
          Sands
Lift themselves to my
          Body
Waxes as I
          Press
Through the stillness of
          Night.


IV.
Borne through air,
    Around the world
And forests I tear;
    Ferns furled,
    Trees burled;
I am the wind.

I flow north,
    Across the ice;
I roll forth
    Past spice –
    So nice –
As I change.

Men bask as I
          Warm
Drops of rain
          Fall
Colored leaves
          Shiver
Because of the
          Chill
Wind blows on
          Past.
'''

-----

!{In *ally*}

'''
The undersides
        off gray
    of clouds
    drift
        while I
            on the path
        stand
    above
        where the crow flies
    me.
Off
        with purple
    gray, I
        wandering
    ponder, should
        in a perfect
            were there such a thing
        world
    be a
        though the word is plain
    color with it's own
        to name
            as they say
        creates
    word.
It soothes.
'''

-----

## The Rise and Fall of Gods -- a fragment
!{In *ally*}

'''
I.

What hath man wrought!
    When faced with the question of love
    Or seeking peace with the answer thereof,
Or faced with life peril-fraught,
    Created a god, or several, to satisfy
    Some need to fulfill or deny
        A lacking -
        A slacking
    On someone else's behalf,
    Or his own behalf -
And on the world a question of faith brought.

And when a man, endowed
    With the ability to make his own God,
    Does so with nary a nod,
And finds the god shan't be cowed,
    What does he then?
    And when a group of men
        Make their God
        With nary a nod,
    And cow him easily, rightly
    To them, and find him tightly
bound, what then, with a god bowed?

What then, indeed, should a God,
    Now lesser than his creators, do
    When his creators move to gods new?
Is he then still a God?
    Or is that when God dies,
    Not bloated with swarms of flies,
        But forgotten?
        Not rotten,
    Forgotten and immortal, what then?
    Does he hope to come again,
Rising a second time, perhaps again to be God?

One would hope that the God, being omniscient
    Would realize he was no longer, otherwise
    Might he become destructive? Likewise,
A god, waiting patient
    Could become restless,
    Try to leave his creators breathless,
        Again,
        But then,
    Be pronounced a heretic
    By all but the hermetic
And others of the new God ignorant.

So hence a people divided
    Those of Whispers and those of Nanon,
    Fight to the tooth and fight to the bone,
Until over Whispers Nanon presided;
    And when those of Nanon took
    Speech from the Whispers so as to look
        And not hear,
        They here
    Those of Whispers with
    Supposed powers of myth
Of creation with speech's remnants provided.

So it was before the fall of Whispers that
    Faith of most all lay in technology,
    Remnants of religion lay in astrology
And superstitious fears like the black cat.
    Only after the fall did the faiths
    Of only the Whisperers turn to mysterious wraiths
        And gods,
        But the odds
    That one of the gods was taken more seriously
    Than the rest was small, and not mysteriously,
The small bit of Faith quickly passed as society's scat

Now, it's come that those of Nanon have all but forgotten
    Those of Whispers except perhaps in myth
    Maybe portrayed as consorting with
Black cats or something equally rotten.
    But for the Whisperers, the city
    Of Nanon is very real, also denial of pity
        Of sunlight,
        For sunlight
    Is blocked by the city directly overhead
    And the Whisperers know of only shadow instead;
Only death out from beneath the city to be gotten.

The magic that's spoken of those
    Of the Whispers, is often made
    Out to be more, but because of their stayed
Speech, only whispers remain in quite prose.
    So through the long stretches of time,
    The Whisperers, through long stretches of rhyme
        Can make -
        Only make -
    What they wish, with words divine,
    Benign, or malign,
And in their creations complete trust repose.

So begins a story, often told but never yet writ
    Of a divided people still the same
    And the rise and fall of a god played like a game.
While not true itself, it is truth lit:
    As men continue to create and live under gods,
    What would happen if the gods, at odds,
        Warred and fell,
        Raising hell
    In the process? What would happen
    In a society misshapen
If a wrathful god fell and no one cared a whit?
'''

### Notes:

'''
Notes from the post following this one:
Some parallel universe or future or somesuch where empathy is/has become a major sense. Big-brother type thing ruling over citizens & magic, main character tries to break free etc etc. Futurological Congress helped inspire the dream that inspired this. Anyways, life expectancy increased, dead (god fell) takes on a new sense involving how other people perceive you with empathic sense (need a snazzy name for that. empathesia?) Story about main character as he slowly 'dies', but tries to overcome corrupt powers. Sorta cliche, oh well.

Setting: mix between furcadia-ish (energetic.gif) and big city with no windows *shrug*

reconciling religion and magic
magic of Sabriel, Abhorsens servants (sorta), death still final, but with a twist, magic just a part of humans provided by god that only recently got discovered. Charter = man's constriction on his own free magic

sound, words, and actions in religion and magic, synaesthesia, poetry and music's effect on people -> subjective/subtle magic -> subjective time, location, perception Death in Sabriel, "90 degrees from everything" in SiaSL

(Ran)Gerig/Kerrick
Simon
Joshua
Max
Josef

Partitions of magic, levels controlled by gov't. Magic->influence. Mana. Gov't messed w/perceptions "oblivious to the fact that if they weren't oblivious, they'd probably be screaming in pain" or empathy explosion: cares & worries turned into reality (starving children in africa makes it impossible to not clean your plate, water conservation hurts once you learn about it).
'''