Monday, March 28, 2005
Bubble
Looking up i saw for the first time, a giant bubble.
Glistening in the still air of the cellar, reflecting light into the multi colours of the rainbow.
So pretty, i said to myself.
I looked closer and saw that the bubble was empty.
No, i said to myself. Bubbles should not be empty, bubbles should be filled with happy stuff, like sunlight; kites; laughter; kisses; hugs.
The bubble hung there in the air, motionless, as if held by a string connected to the ceiling. It shifted closer, urging me.
So pretty, i said to myself again, mesmerised by the kaleidoscope of colours, scintillating upon the surface like figure skaters on the ice ring.
It feels happy.
Feels warm, unlike the cold dampness of this cellar beneath the house. I can only stare at that cell of a window, a foretaste of the heaven outside. Cooped up, i only have Bubble to keep me company.
Are you really happy, i asked Bubble.
... Bubble replies.
... Bubble replies.
You don't seem so, i say to Bubble. Why don't i fill you up, with really happy stuff, candy canes; ice cream; chocolate; pizza; homecooked meals.
... Bubble replies.
... Bubble replies.
You'd really like that? Really? I say excitedly. Then let me fill you up.
Happy thoughts, i say to myself.
Happy thoughts. I squint my eyes together, thinking really hard.
...
...
...
I take a peek.
Bubble still hovers there, its face a blank as the sun is blocked out by the clouds, pulling the light out of my cellar room.
You don't look happy at all, what if i...
POP!
i...
i...
I stay there, my shoulders hunched as if my heart were leadened with gloom, a terrible weariness that sucked at my heartstrings. I lie down on my camper bunk and curl up against the wall, close my eyes and tried to dream of happy stufff.
Happy stuff...
___________________________________
I got the sudden inspiration to write again, can you feel the loneliness in this short story. I have a feeling that nobody comes to read my blog anymore, makes me wonder if i should continue writing.
deadnessmaster live again at 8:20 PM
Friday, March 25, 2005
I just watched the DVD my friend Bella lent me. Its called 'Donnie Darko', its very beautiful and sad show. So is its theme song, here are the lyrics. Say it in a very slow beating way. It has a ring of truth to it. Just love the show."Mad World"All around me are familiar facesWorn out places, worn out facesBright and early for their daily racesGoing nowhere, going nowhereTheir tears are filling up their glassesNo expression, no expressionHide my head I want to drown my sorrowNo tomorrow, no tomorrowAnd I find it kinda funnyI find it kinda sadThe dreams in which I'm dyingAre the best I've ever hadI find it hard to tell youI find it hard to takeWhen people run in circlesIt's a very, very mad world mad worldChildren waiting for the day they feel goodHappy Birthday, Happy BirthdayMade to feel the way that every child shouldSit and listen, sit and listenWent to school and I was very nervousNo one knew me, no one knew meHello teacher tell me what's my lessonLook right through me, look right through meAnd I find it kinda funnyI find it kinda sadThe dreams in which I'm dyingAre the best I've ever hadI find it hard to tell youI find it hard to takeWhen people run in circlesIt's a very, very mad world ... worldEnlarging your worldMad worldBy Gary Jules
deadnessmaster live again at 10:34 PM
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Rites of Fire
Doom!Doom!Doom!Doom!
The cylindrical drums boomed in tempo, a harsher rhythm at an even harsher pace. The thrumming of a giant heart, held inside a malevolent structure of fire. The beat with a fervour of men posessed by some greater being of many arms, as they increased the clacking of the sticks against stretched skins. Arms bobbed in the air, raising and striking in accordance with one another, a dance of wet against taut.
The heat from the lava was incinerating, it heated the very air, creating a vacuum that could kill in two ways. First by asphyxiation, second by ash. Yet the drummers were unrelentless in their striking, increasing and dropping the tempo in waves of a deeper thrum, of doom and dread. Seemingly, unaffected by the heat if not for their red headbands, the drummers stared straight ahead into that orange pit, of bubbling and steaming rock.
Galeze could only hide behind the boulder and goggle at this forbidden, sacred rite of passage, reserved for the highests of masters. He could not believe with his own eyes that he was witnessing what none were to speak of. He pointedly reminded himself that he still owed Larond, a moon cycle's worth of slavery for the indication of the crevice in a lowdown part of the stone walls.
DOOM!
The drummers slam their sticks one last time against their magnificent drums of thunder. It was finally starting. The twin doors of red and ash grey, slowly peeled open to let in the master of fire, who was going to make the ultimate sacrifice for his people, his home. Nadin, speeker of fire was the one making this sacrifice, deeming it an honour to participate in the event. His full red robes, were taken off his body by acolytes, leaving him standing there in his full battle wear, of sheened crimson armour, plated by the top blacksmiths money could buy.
He walked slowly, a procession of other top ranking masters behind him, clad in their full red robes, marking them at the top of their breed. They stopped a few feet behind him, as Nadin neared the hot pool of lava, although he stood so close near the edge it was a wonder that he did not crisp up and die a wretched corpse on the ground. He proceeded to raise both hands to his forehead and laid rest a symbol that Galeze was too inexperienced to decipher. Nadin started to chant to Kashash, fire god, to deliver him unto the belly of the flame, and burn the flesh from his bones and release the flame within.
Kalin-gul. Galeze gasped in horror and wonderment at what he was about to witness. A rite of passage that would burn a fire speeker in the flames that bore us, and finally make him one with the flames of Kashash. There, he would stay in the fire until he is called up for battle as the Kalin-gul, the inflamed ones, a walking spirit of fire that would scorch the ground and burn the air, as powerful as the flames of the fire mountain itself.
Nadin down below, was nearing the ending phrase of his call to Kashash. The symbol now burned into his forehead, like an acidic wound eroding into his skull, but never did he flinched. He had prepared himself for the greater pain to come.
"Kashash!" he called out, "Let me be one with the flame and burn the flesh from my bones and turn them to ash. For only the living flame shall reside behind, pure and everlasting as that of you. Se Kalin se Kashash!" With those words he plunged himself into the melted rock, a willing dive into a doom that would burn any vestige of humanity left in him. He thrashed about in the gooey liquid, a dance of the manic and desperate. It was unthinkable to conceive the intense pain that he was feeling. Soon the thrashing stopped and the melted fire stilled.
Nadin was gone. Galeze could hardly feel the reality of it sink in, his only mentor and faux father had disappeared from his life. He imaged the face of Nadin being scorched off from his memory, leaving nothing but the trace of smoke and the smell of burnt flesh. A distant remembrance of what had been a great man. The shock was too much and all he could do was... nothing. But let the reality of it sink in like an invading poison, that would stain his soul with an emptiness comparable to death.
Nadin was gone. He could only whisper to himself as he slid to his knees, the strength going out of his legs.
Nadin was gone.
Forever.
deadnessmaster live again at 10:50 PM
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Time's Children
Dusk had nowhere to go.
Stuck in between night and day, in that glittering expanse of street.
He could not give up the run and be-chased, so he made off, down the cul-de-sac of whitish tiles, polished to gleam against the glass windows above. He ran, clutching to his bony chest of dire hunger, wild binging on ennui and caffeinates.
He gripped the sun in his left and moon in his right, pulling them along a desperate urgency for the chase that followed behind.
Night was lagging in his steps, weariness of having stayed up a full six hours straight with nonstop pouring of blackness into that permeable cloth, to pour so much of yourself into such a daily routine was taxing to the spirit.
Day was still keeping up, leaping forth at times, to gain on Dusk, a marathon of sorts. There was no way he was getting away with my possessions. Stop thief! Stop! Day was at his heels, still running down that ever-street, that seemed to stretch as long as had been their chase.
Dusk tips and accidentally loses the moon in his right, Day watches the white orb bounce along the ground only to be scooped up by Night. Focus. The sun was still in Dusk's hands.
Dusk takes a detour, rendezvous with Dawn between the two fountains of swirls and sparkling fireflies. He sees it, it is within his sight and he sees Dawn waiting there, her very distanced look that seems to be stuck on her face, a natural sleepiness that seems to glimmer beneath her, that mask of gloominess. He holds out the sun to her, she should be running as well, but all she does is half-heartedly displays her empty palm, as Dusk plunks it in her hand.
Dawn peers over Dusk's shoulder to see that Day in all her energetic determination was soon to the reach the hiatus of this town. Dusk gasps for breath, urging Dawn to continue the run, but she just stands there and waits for Day to arrive.
Here. She hands out the golden ball to Day, Day clutches it and hugs it to her chest, her face beaming with a sort of sublimity over victory and reposession.
Traitor, Dusk says boyishly. Dawn sticks her tongue out in response.
Girls must stick together, Dawn retorted.
Next time I'm teaming up with Night.
Night arrives, no longer running, also toying with his milky moon, his possessive eyes running over every bump and crevice in that globe.
But can we stop using the sun and the moon? Day says. They might become dirty, you already dropped the moon just now.
Bah! Its spoilt anyways. Look at all those bumps in it.
I like my moon just the way it is. Night mumbles defensively. I won't allow her to be used in any more games.
Fine then, we'll just play soldiers at home. Dusk says, sighing.
We'll play house, says Day and Dawn together.
So all four trekked home, across the streeet, down it and then up it. Crossing the junction to their aquarian blue, moss-stained house just between the bleak bricked building and the peach- coloured apartment block.
Noon, Day's cousin and Afternoon, Noon's sister, had been making lunch. They were the busiest of the lot, their sand blond hair and rosy cheeks, showed their hardworking sensibility, always taking care of the rest of the orphaned family, and rushing things to be done quickly and efficiently. Midnight as usual was lounging on her four-post bed, staring at the wall with a weariness that seemed to dominate throughout the darker side of the family. Evening, Midnight's brother was in the living room, listening to the news and switching between channels. He was the family's couch potato, always absorbing, be it food or information, and occasionaly leaving his throne for the throne of the toilet.
Dusk made route for the soldier's in the trunk, while the girls pulled out the dollhouse from under the bed.
Mankind's lives were such fun to play with. Midnight thought to herself. As the boys started to assemble the ranks and the girls fidled with the dresses and lives of their dolls.
So glad that I'm living in between.
********************************
deadnessmaster live again at 11:06 PM
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Dearly departed,
Rest and be rested...
Hold the red bloom of a flower to your chest and smile...
Smile knowing that peace has now come.
Hold that thought of timelessness in your mind and spread that smirk across your face.
Mock the world for its folly,
Its games and know in the end that you won.
You won.
Sitting in silence,
Outshadow, oh unparted gloom.
The blackening of a night that once glowed dim.
Know the tendrils of doom pulling at your skin.
Raise hands fraught with clinging night.
Cover your eyes.
Smear it over.
And scream.
Have you heard the endless scream of an androgynistic voice resonate in your head?
Heard the whisperer every second of the day, invading conscious thought and speech?
Felt the pricker's relentless thud of spike and hammer on your heart?
Seen the flashing of the worlds around you, melting both reality and alternation?
Smiled grimly at the sadistic games, Latana plays with you?
Felt the emptiness of a widening cavern, where both the echo and call disappear?
Have you felt it? Have you known it before?
If you have...
Scream louder, we might never hear you.
deadnessmaster live again at 9:55 PM
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Do you know the whisperer?
The whisperer?
The whisperer?
Do you know the whisperer,
Who lives inside your mind.
Yes, i know the whisperer.
The whisperer.
The whisperer.
Yes, i know the whisperer,
who lives inside my mind.
And do you know the pricker man?
The pricker man?
The pricker man?
And do you know the pricker man,
Who lives inside your mind.
Yes, i know the pricker man.
The pricker man.
The pricker man.
Yes, i know the pricker man,
Who lives inside my mind.
So, do you know the looker man?
The looker man?
The looker man?
Do you know the looker man,
Who lives inside your mind.
Yes, i know the looker man.
The looker man.
The looker man.
Yes, i know the looker man,
Who lives inside my mind.
So, do you know the three of them?
The three of them?
The three of them?
So, do you know the three of them,
Who live inside your mind.
Yes, I know the three of them.
Who whisper things,
And prick my heart.
They come outside to play around.
And look out of my eyes.
_____________________________
I'm going crazy...
The whisperer is strong in his notions, the words he whispers in my ear, are driving me insane.
The pricker man, he holds a giant stake and large hammer, and goes around sending sharp pangs through my system.
The looker man, the images he flashes in my mind, the fourth dimension that is not of this world, the devastation, the bodies, flash before my eyes, a flickering picture that moves with the present reality. YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT I SEE EVERYDAY.
you have no idea...
deadnessmaster live again at 8:46 PM