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The following's copyrights are waved for
electronic text only. Any printed media
versions of all or part is a violation of
copyright law. Duplication of this text
by electronic means is restricted to
distribution with Readdx-Win (in ZRW/ZRFW)
as the primary viewer, even in such cases
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This has been severly edited down to keep
the archieve size down, although Vestabur
has been added.
To load files into Readdx-Win, click on
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Montage
By Jared P. DuBois
(c) Copywrites 1986,87,88,89,90,94
Montage is from..
The Vestatile Verse
repetition
Triumvirum
Quadranine
pentacle
Montage is..
neither acceptance nor denial
-+-The Immortals, Mortal Rectitude
(Affinity)*, (Centricity), (Life (again.))
-+-Time Again, In Ignorance
maelstroms leading up
(Rites of Passage), (Landmarks Left By)
(Chasten Not I), (A Moment's Peace)
-+-Distance Closes In, In My Prime
(Less than Whole), (What was then)
sounds of our love's song
-+-As it is
-+-Absence Presence and Promise Fulfilled
(Once Bitten), (Four- Leafed Clovers)
-+- Remembrance, (A Single Rose)
(I found my soul), (We Once Touched, Goodbyes)
(To Be You, Give me love)
of life and truth and fate and lies
(The Long Journey)
-+-The Wayfarer, The Executioner
-+-The Cauldron of Fontaine, Vestabur
(Once a King)
to make a sound or stir
-+-Contemplating Freedom, Fears of finding out
-+-The Haunting, (I cannot see me), (My mind is Free)
-+-Once is me, (Starry- Eyed and Boisterous)
to question why
-+-Our Legacy of Lethargy, To Wit
-+-(Outgrown Innocence), (Death of a Child)
-+-Automatons, (The Eternal Yoke)
-+-Sword of the Slight, (Conscientious Objectors)
the indomitable straits of time
-+-Motions Passing, Eclipsed, (Momentous Moments)
-+-Moments of Repatriation, (In Unison), (Prismic)
-+-Waiting, Tomorrow
on into the sunset
-+-The Dark Horse, Excelsior
-+-Crystal Castles, Lexicon
* = not incuded, -+- = included
neither acceptance nor denial
The Immortals
Beat fast oh heart of endless motion
that carries us through the shrouded stillness
of the omnipresent cold eternal night
which holds countless souls captive,
entombed within its endless fiefdom
smothered in angst and robbed of sight
Move quickly you who dare to think
that you have any relevance to it all
or it to you or you to what is right
lest you may learn that nothing matters
to life which you may cherish or despise
and to death which merely continues this plight
No future is real and the past slips away,
not wanting to be remembered or relived,
not holding onto you nor letting you hold it
as you are perpetually thrown into nothingness
and then let to grasp at something
yet that something never enables you to quit
Constant scurrying with nowhere to go
is the empty fate which befalls us all
and holds us in the wake of endless questing
after truths that lose their importance
as easily and as often as we lose our lives
without diminishing our spirit's vesting
Mortal Rectitude
Pushing ever towards the end
we reach out for the newest and latest
and we receive them yet again
never doubting
the relevancy or immediatcy
of evolution
Seeing ourselves decay
and knowing our governments and systems,
our attempts to keep change at bay,
condemn us
to see that our lives and ritual actions
are institutions
Doomed to eventual obscurity
we struggle to achieve eternal importance
lest we become forgotten history
always believing
that to be remembered is to live,
an absolution
Pegged into the fold,
locked into a slice of eternal time
chained to life fading and old
ever acknowledging
neither acceptance nor denial
is resolution
Time again
Never is ever ever enough
for life itself is in the extreme
surpassing itself time and time again
for that it is
and for that must it always be
as this or that comes to rule
each moment becoming that time
while chaos itself reigns supreme
for all that may no matter what, no matter when
must bow to this
Time becomes time again
defining itself anew each resurgent light
as all of creation falls down to this
until it was
and then never again would it, could it be
paved over by insatiable lust for life
driving those others over that which drove it
seeking to become that moment, become that life
which by turns gives life and feeds off of it
living by giving what does
In Ignorance
In ignorance I look to the sky
sensing some higher order, some higher mind
as yet unknownst to me so I pass it by
enjoying peace and pleasure and like in kind
for place untold cannot bind
In ignorance I live each day without fear
oblivious to death omnipresently everywhere
in each potently deadly soul be they far or be they near
for life and death and consequence we each share
needing to be needing, being to dare
So life leave to mystery and to death leave the facts
so cold and unchanging written in black upon black
for living is standing with the truth to our backs
facing the yet-to-be true, the ever changing track
surmounting the known with each little act
Thinking meaning existed then, or when, or ever
we see ourselves as lost and forever wandering blind
yet to see truth as evolving becoming full truly never
is to accept ignorance as a fact, a mean state of mind
knowing all knowing soon succumbs to time
maelstroms leading up
Distance Closes In
Distance closes in
and horizons once seemingly endless
become known, and being known, uninteresting
as the playpen to the room,
the room to the yard, the yard to the street, ad infinitum
The planet, being known
thus becomes to small to frame us
so we search out new limits to our view
and overlook the unknowns at home
in our cities, our streets, in our peoples, and in ourselves
Infinity itself collapses
under the weight of impressive stares
as if to say what else can I do, what more can I give
and we ourselves, not knowing, merely shrug
and walk away saying we only thought there'd be more
In My Prime
I see myself in my minds eye
in my youth stout and strong
and in my prime
too untamed and too untried
not to think that all the world
could be bent towards my will
by my pride
Wary now, I seldom wander
to find fulfillment of futile goals
lying ever yonder
yet in my heart and in my dreams
I am still a fool eagerly awaiting
opportunity to cast away my wisdom
if sorrow it means
Is ignorance bliss, I wonder
debating whether incremental time
is some cosmic blunder
for when age brings us aquiessence
for lessening roles in lesser amibitions
we still believe we are more and have more
as we lose faith in our essence
sounds of our love's song
As it is
As light as a feather
that flutters to and fro
fancifully upon the slightest breeze
As strong as the feeling
of futility at the suppression
of an undeniably growing sneeze
As warm as the color
of a blazing crimson sun
on a pale morning sky
As safe as a prison
or the painted sanctuaries
in which we all shall lie
As indefinable as the moment
in which we finally come
to know and love ourselves
As rich as the body
and soul of mother earth
which gives but never sells
As these and so much else,
so is my love for you
and so shall be forever more
As easy as it is to say
it is far the more difficult
to feel all is real and I am yours
Absence, Presence, and Promise Fulfilled
Without love
I am free to cultivate hate
without fear
of any unseemly contradiction
to drive me
to purge either one or the other
With love
I may love just a few
without need
to share that love with all
or justify
loving anyone better or more
Within love
there is the hope I may live
without seeing
anyone in my heart clearer
than anyone else
who is no less worthy of the same
Rememberance
As I lay down to sleep
I pray this memory I shall always keep
of you with me now in my time
in my world, in my soul, and in my mind
for though we must continue to change
I hope to keep a piece of this treasure
of pleasure brought by loving you to me
with me always, even in my darkest hour
when my body lies cold,
bled dry of feeling and power,
for if I have but this memory of you
I will still have love
and joy and peace and light
and a little slice of the best time
in my life
of life and truth and fate and lies
The Wayfarer
Torn and tattered were his clothes
and his face, like a well worn overgrown trail,
inspired polite respect with a twinge of fear
in the people whom he passed as his soul set sail
to find some wondrous place to finally rest
and upon that day he felt it drawing ever near
It was the fourteenth day of December
when his feet first carried him into the town
where he would meet the strangest of fates
and revel in the wake of the unseen forces that abound
between the reality of day and the darkness of night
which draw one unknowingly into the eeriest of states
In an little old inn on the edge of town
the wayfarer stopped for warmth and a drink
but this was no ordinary inn as he soon found out
for the innkeeper had devious eyes which would wink
whenever the wayfarer thought something was strange
and the walls themselves seemed to scream or shout
Intrigued by the strangeness of the place
the daring traveler decided to stay the night
but after making a quick check of his room
his eyes caught flash of a hideous sight
of a wolf standing bloodied over a mutilated body
and when the brief vision ended, he felt impending doom
Hurriedly, he splashed his face wet
in a water basin at the end of the hall,
his heart racing at the marvel he had seen
driving him to take some action or to call
for help from some sorcerer, demon, or god
to help him vanquish this terrible dream
Once again in the inn's tavern
he instead chose food to regain his composition
for he felt that he would need all his senses
to do battle with the demonic apparition
that lay waiting for him in his room
yet also in some other world behind unseen fences
He felt its presence even then
as he ate in an attempt to gain strength,
he felt it chiding to him to run while he could
but he did not listen to it at any length,
just long enough to know it was still there
and that if it could destroy him it surely would
The man at the bar let out a laugh
that sounded as deranged as its meaning was obscure
but before he left the room in a frenzied delight
he had pointed to the wayfarer sitting demure
and said nothing though the meaning became clear
in that he was a fool for not feeling proper fright
Alone in the room of the wolf
he sat expectantly upon a wooden chair
and with his gun at his side and knife in hand
he waited for something or someone to be there
but though the feeling grew ever more intense
nothing appeared that he could see or understand
Soon he began to grow tired
yet the more that he gave into this tide
the more invigorated he felt himself become
until he lay wide awake on the other side
where the wolf lay waiting in a field of green
and the light of the moon was now the sun
He stood up and gave chase to the wolf
although he was no longer certain why
for this world was certainly not like his own
as it had orange plants and a bright pink sky
and as he grew nearer to the fleeing wolf
he realized it was unlike any he had known
The ominous hatred and venomance
which he had sensed back at the inn
no longer was present in this strange new place
though still he felt driven to purge this sin,
this horrible abomination incarnate in the wolf
seeming so near that he could sense its foul taste
Then the wolf grew tired at last
and turned to face the wayfarer's approach
yet it did not show any sign of fear
nor did it turn hostile when he drew close,
instead it quietly awaited its impending fate
as the hunter flung himself at it like a spear
The wayfarer's confusion grew still
when the wolf seemed to vanish in the air
but the feelings still had hold of him
and as he fled across the plains in despair
he noticed that his body had disappeared
while he ran within the wolf's own skin
Over the next hill he came across a man
whom he vaguely noticed was himself
and as the man began to shudder back
the man-wolf felt the fear rise in itself
growing stronger until both were one
at the moment its teeth gnashed open his neck
Screaming, the man was again in the room
far too shaken to think of anything's meaning
as he packed his things and hurried away
into the darkness of that fateful evening
when worlds collided for one man never known
except for the footprints in the snow never shown
The Executioner
The moment of truth appeared
within the blink of an eye
as I solemnly raised my gun
before my quavering victim
The Executioner of Justice
is the name I chose long ago
and that far off day gone by
is suddenly thrust before my eyes
Was it my passion for life
or some perverse taste for death
that made me love the work
which came to dominate my life
This kill will not come easy
and this face before me
shall not be quietly put to rest
in my tortured silent nights
This time I cannot believe
that this tragedy is just
and the innocent eyes before me
reflect the truth of my task
Countless times before I could have questioned
but instead I chose to remain ignorant
of the manipulations of the halls of justice
that determine who shall live or die
This time it was too blatant,
an example to be made,
a statement of brutal blindness
to keep the rank and file in line
Right and wrong are dissolving
in my long inactive mind
and the fresh wind that blows
is filled with condemnation
My hand begins to violently shake
and the gun grows heavy within
as if the weight of my deeds
are now alive in my instrument of death
An explosive turmoil erupts within
as I am faced with countless questions
of life and truth and fate and lies
and of my own inevitable demise
The forces ripping me apart are great
but the solution is so near and easy
and in an instant later it is over
as the echoes of the shot die in the air
My eyes grow dim and my heart heavy
as I watch the body hit the floor
and I convince myself I will survive
the haunting truth my soul had seen
Cauldron of Fontaine
In medieval days of nightmarish lore
when the unspeakable occurred
far too often for any to keep score
there was a abomination vested
upon a town which knows no fame
save for being the birthplace
of the Cauldron of Fontaine
Made from the iron of thirty swords
that took the souls of scores of men
the blackened pot would feed the hoards
of those who served the darkness
and reveled in the terror vexed upon Man,
taking great pleasure from each atrocity
their demonic leader would command
The deeds of this troupe defy telling
without disturbing the sensibilities
of those who find righteousness compelling
so it should suffice for me to say
that the results of their debauchery boiled
in an evil mixture in that cauldron
as the dignity of humanity was forever soiled
The village once known as Fontaine
was peaceful before those days,
before the devil called Raven came
in a firestorm of reckless abandon
asking for followers to seize the day,
to profit from the confusion,
to take all and make heaven pay
In desperate times such as these
men were all too willing
to follow one who did as he pleased
fearing neither the wrath of God
nor the formidable armies of kings
that were heralding forth another age
for which chivalry valiantly sings
Twisted was Raven's maniacal mind
bent upon a life everlasting
and so unrelenting was he to find
the key to achieving this hopeless dream
that he dared leave no stone unturned
until immortality was his prize
and its secrets were at last learned
Fools always follow where greed leads
and in those days of long ago
that road was known as alchemy,
where science and mysticism joined
and produced a mutated child
which died attempting to tame
a world where blind instinct ran wild
Raven was convinced that this was the way
that he could at last be immortal
and forever postpone his judgment day
so the dreaded cauldron was conceived
to concoct that elixir of eternal life
made from the fluids of life and death
taken ceremoniously with a lethal knife
Blood flowed endlessly for years hence
as more villagers became convinced
that the Angel of Death could now be fenced
leaving them free to live lives of lust
without fear of any final hereafter
until one by one they all met the blade
to the tune of Raven's menacing laughter
Decrepit and fast turning gray,
Raven realized his failure far too late
as he too lived to see the day
when he was chosen as a sacrifice
to feed the younger who gained claim
upon his legacy of unbridled brutality
justly giving him taste of the same
Though they all now wear death's chains,
as a monument to those dark days
an undistinguished black pot still remains
for on a museum shelf behind a glass case
sits the Cauldron of Fontaine
as a relic from another world
achieving Raven's pitiful aim
Vestabur
Of all the great legends
which ever were
no name rings truer
than that of the mighty Vestabur
who gave all for nothing
chasing humanity's forgotten cure
In the land of Vikings
during the most violent of ancient days
this strongest of warriors wept
for man's seemingly eternal malaise
which pitted man against man
and goodness against stronger selfish ways
Finding none who were worthy
of his inestimable prowess of force
he then sailed off alone
letting fate decide his course
driven by a sense of uneasiness
and determined to find its source
For fourteen lonely days
and fifteen turbulent nights
no glimpse of sunlight broke the clouds
and no sign of land reached his sights
until at last upon that final day
he saw mountains of astonishing heights
The mountains reached right to the sea
barren of any form of living thing,
so empty and gray and desolate
no comfort did its appearance bring
with such an endlessly imposing facade
that even the sea birds no longer did sing
Hungry and weary from his journey,
Vestabur hastened to go ashore
but little respite did he receive
as his hands became bloodied and sore
trying to climb those rugged cliffs
which appeared to go on forever more
After what seemed an eternity,
he reached the top of a peak
only to be confronted
by a winged creature that could speak
which had hovered before him
and asked him what he seeked
A dragon some would call it
though dragons were not so small
for this scaly quite ugly sprite
stood no more than three feet tall
and because of its tiny wings,
one wondered how it flew at all
Vestabur thought for a bit
and then said, "To end my pain
for I am tired, cold, and hungry
and am quickly becoming lame
as I have traveled long and hard
only to find nothing gained."
After a long pause of suspicion
the creature looked wary and replied,
"A bed and shelter and food,
these things I can easily provide
but surely thou travels not for these
for everywhere these comforts reside."
The warrior let out a thunderous laugh
and said, "Thou art a wise sprite
for seeing deeper than I might wish
but thou art most certainly right
in that I seek relief of a deeper pain
than one can name or hold in sight."
He continued, "If thou wouldst comfort me
with the provisions that thou didst say
I would be in thy gravest debt
and shall be most eager to repay
by naming my pain as yet untold
if it pleaseth thee for me to say."
It was early the following morning
when Vestabur awoke invigorated and refreshed
that he told the sprite his woeful tale
of how the worst in Man destroyed the best
and it was then that he heard the prolific words
which would set him upon his greatest quest
The creature spoke in a low solemn tone,
"Thy vision is true and thy heart is pure
for there is a plague of greed upon the land
by which Man is poisoned and cannot long endure
but all hope has not yet been lost
for there is a place which covets the cure."
"Devils be damned and heavens praised,"
Vestabur abruptly and joyfully exclaimed,
"A thousand blessings be upon thee
if thou wouldst only speak the name
of that place which has come to possess
such an auspicious claim to fame."
"Mubarakk," the winged creature said
as it began to fly out of his sight,
"Sail in the direction of the setting sun
for a hundred days and nights,
turn back for no one and nothing
and never give into your fright."
Slowly Vestabur made his way down
the dangerous steep mountain's edge
working his way away from the house
that the creature had built upon a ledge
with his mind dwelling upon the words
the strange creature had last said
The fury of the seven seas
hath no fury like that of a man possessed
to achieve that one goal or reward
that he knows in his heart to be the best,
not for himself but for his whole world
and Vestabur was driven by nothing less
Through the harshest of storms he sailed
unrelentingly plodding on toward some place
where he knew he would be gravely taxed
in a test which could affect his whole race
so he bore the worst the sea could give
and he swore he would not act in haste
During a rare moment of peace and calm
he happened upon a lush tropical isle,
a garden of endless sensual delights
radiating a joy that could make the devil smile
so it was here that he stopped for more supplies
and a place where he could rest for awhile
Words cannot describe the beauty of that place
or of the friendliness people there had showed
upon the storied stranger weak and frail
half starved and half crazed by his chosen road
to rid the world of its evil and its pains
that some unseen god or demon ungraciously bestowed
But here there was no hate or selfishness
and the world he left behind seemed to fade away,
just a nightmare that lingered in some twilight time
forgotten but not leaving its importance betrayed
as it clamored to him in his restless troubled sleep
and its resolve in hope there too vice could be allayed
And the love that had been denied to him before
came to him in that wonderful enchanted place
in the guise of beauty Mirimaney Kondessay
who embodied the purest of virtue, love, and grace
with the glimmer of a thousand stars within her eyes
and a radiance as great as the sun within her face
Here was contentedness and here was untold joy
which he had never dreamed could be before
yet deep within he knew he'd never see again
for he knew that this place was merely a door
to be passed through and left behind forever
and that more pains of the past lay in store
Though this hurt was far deeper than any others,
Vestabur left quietly during one calm night
again sailing toward the land of the setting sun
cursing himself for being too weak to ignite
courage enough to bid farewell his new bride
and still be able to continue on with his plight
Five weeks hence, his supplies again exhausted
he found another island to look for food to eat
but no land of paradise was this evil isle
as death lay everywhere eager to meet
this giant of a man who dared enter the domain
of the Banu tribe with painted hands and feet
In the shank of the evening the blood bath erupted
as Vestabur awoke to them attacking him one by one
yet each time he triumphed, another foe lay vanquished,
and over a hundred lay dead before the dying was done
when ten men rushed him cracking his skull
for as the mighty Vestabur fell the battle was won
When he awoke he found himself tied
upon a yoke of precious metals lined with jewels
in the hall of a gigantic luxurious marble palace
among sculptures carved by the finest artisan's tools,
displayed along beside them atop a high ledge
being gawked at by a court filled with noble fools
From his perch he could look down and see
the story of the kingdom unfold beneath his eyes
as the monarch sat upon a throne of the finest jade
doling out the most incredulous of lies
eagerly consumed by a nation taught only obedience
caring not that they had no will to compromise
Thrice daily he would be washed and fed
serving no more purpose than that of a living statue
declaring to all the power of the emperor
which his bound and helpless state showed true
yet only his body lay confined and constrained
while his mind raced to uncover any opportunity cue
For the first time in his victory filled life
Vestabur was held prisoner like some animal in a cage
removed from the freedoms he had always known
and daily he held witness to his mounting rage
at the atrocious abuses of power going on below
which we affecting him more than he could ever gauge
As he saw even mere children condemned to die
for deeds done by their parents or other kin
he vowed he would rid this world of this tyrant
before resuming the task long ago did he begin
believing nothing he could do could ever surpass
this victory over viciousness which he had to win
After the trials which always ended up executions,
Emperor Kyrik would stand alone in this hall
admiring his statues and opulent ornaments
gloating over having the power of death over all
and one day he spoke to Vestabur shackled high above,
"Thy head from thy neck might as easily fall!"
"Thou wouldst suffer far more than me
for I knowst a place of untold treasure,"
Vestabur answered, "and beauty far greater
than could give such a beast as thee pleasure
for the wealth of this place surmounts all
that thou has is this hall or could measure."
"And all I must do to have this marvelous wealth
is to set thee free I supposeth," the emperor said,
"yet I be not the fool thou thinkst I am
for only moments later I wouldst surely be dead
though I thinkst thou speaketh the truth
so I shall send out my armies to search instead."
Moments later the emperor returned to the hall
where Vestabur stood consumed by his flaming hate
for the man who now predicted complete success
in plundering all wealth as his armies would devastate
all peoples weaker be they near or far away
and as he said so Vestabur realized it was too late
Suddenly he was struck with a vision
of the island of boundless beauty and grace
being raped of the riches it shone forth,
the kindness and the love too strong to erase
would doom them to be destroyed one and all
as the vipers poisoned that wondrous place
As the emperor laughed far below
Vestabur saw him directly beneath the ledge
and summoning all the strength left in him
he tipped the stone stockade using his foot as a wedge
tilting it forward inch by inch as his foot crushed
until at last the stone and he tumbled over the edge
He awoke upon a gallows before a crowd
shouting curses at him for killing the emperor,
no joy did they have for being set free
as they began to stone the mighty Vestabur
and the reasons why he craved that death
were so tainted by this he could no longer remember
"These fools shall never become free,"
Vestabur thought as he prepared to die,
"for they haveth no meaning or goals in life
save for those given by some ruler up high
and such as being as me wouldst never be
forced or force others to live out such a lie."
Bracing himself for the final yank nearing,
he felt proud for having the chance to have been
and he feared not death nor pain nor loss
for he knew that this was not his true end
because his quest was still not near resolution
meaning he still would be though knowing not when
He saw the coming events proceed in stills,
like photographs or like cards taken out of deck,
when the trapdoor fell and chaos ensued
while the rope snapped close around his strong neck
seeing lightening strike the crowd around him
then seeing the whole scene fall to a distant speck
End of Part One
Vestabur- Conclusion (middle parts missing)
How Vestabur had come to arrive there
I doubt that anyone could truly say
and where exactly there might have been
could easily go unknown for a million more days
so sadly I am left merely able to say
that at long last Vestabur had found his way
This isle was a perfect circle with a solitary peak
which rose forth from the center and ended in a cloud
but no joy came from his mighty heart as it raced
with a ferocitiy such that he thought it echoed out loud
and a solemn melencholy gripped his whole being
fearing the cloud above was his eternal shroud
Driven by forces too powerful to dare resist
he laughed as he pondered his very first fear,
that of reaching the end of his long troubled journey,
not of failing but of the success now drawing near
and that vague notion of a final resolution
made him shake violently as its meaning became clear
No more venturing would be should he succeed
in ridding the world of all ails and ills
as his meaning dissolved before the face of the resolve
that drove him here and would carry him up that hill
which cursed his success and dared him to leave
while he still knew who he was, knowing he could be still
But fear could have no hold over him
and he let the sensation run its course and go
as he slowly made his way toward the town
that his visions of forebearance quickly let him know
would await him at the foot of that mount
and would surprise him with an unexpected foe
Pleasant were the people of this remote town
eager to meet and greet this great stranger,
so accomodating and polite, he was so entralled
and taken aback by this kindness he saw no danger
in dalying for a time to repay their generous hospitality
when asked to stay awhile and tend to their manger
Strange animals he found in that pristine barn
where he came to work to tend their stout stock,
healthy and boisterous and so uncannily attuned
to service that he had but to think to command a flock
of sheep which went daily to a meadow undistinguished
but for an errily glowing pile of mountain rocks
There at dusk after a hard day's work
atop the rocks he felt free as never before
in command of his self and his destiny
so much so that the future he dreaded lay in store
now seemed ameniable and even freindly to him
smiling down on him because he dreaded it no more
Day after day went past while he worked
without notice of the time or the passing seasons
that soon changed to years, then many years
but this seemed not to his goal to be of any treason
for this was but a temporary stop on his journey
and all must always be because of due reason
Four and fourty years passed before he noticed
how those rocks that he sat upon for so long
were to be found in every house and every meeting place,
and how they glowed when the townsfolk would throng
for some festive event which celebrated each new day
as a new era never seeing how much that view was wrong
Time made no mark upon this forgotten place
as generation after generation came and passed
without making any innovation or any new creations
to distinguish one era from the next or truths from the mask
tradition builds to preserve all views from before
and strives to keep any questions from being asked
This is in all lands but nowhere else was it so clear
as here where there was no small task ever new
nor any thought different than those of the day before
for even as children learned and constantly grew
there was no dividing lines nor any individual patterns
setting them apart from each other in what they did or knew
Individuals had no meaning to be found here
as all worked to serve all others without thought
for themselves or for the betterment of others
who shared not their secluded seemily ideal spot
yet they did not know of the horrors that lay
beyond their vision or of the wrongs elsewhere wrought
Yet Vestabur found his gift of inner visions
not to be strange nor did he find anyone astounded
by his presence nor did they ask of where he came
and when he spoke of the past, they were not dumbfounded
but would knowingly bow their head in aquiessence
whenupon the sorrows of the outside world were sounded
Longing to know just how much they knew
Vestabur questioned his friend Baynu without respite
until at last he admitted they all knew the truth
of the world from which he had long left in flight
and he too said the cure to all man's troubles
lay at the top of the mountain forever in their sight
Furious, Vestabur lashed out in utter condemnation
at the whole town knowingly just standing by
doing nothing while evil lay everywhere hurting all
while they did nothing to aid in its possible demise,
instead languishing in the luxury of goodwill
without the fortitude to make all of mankind so wise
"But what of thou," Baynu said in a forgiving way
"We cometh heer by our forefathers searching like thee
and it was here that the stones lastly didst them comfort
letting them know from their demons they be free
not having to purge themselves of others shortcomings and sins
and giving them peace the world beyond wouldst not let be."
Again rekindling the fire that led him here,
he fled the town in a fit of unseemly haste
violently clawing his way up that mountainside
not allowing himself chance to rethink out of fear he'd waste
this one last chance to gain what he had come for,
to rid life of its bile and bitterness of taste
He climbed until he could climb no more
frozen by the winds chiding "Death is at hand,"
and there he most surely would have died
had it not been for the kindness of a man
who had made his camp near the top long ago
in the mists of a cloud high above the land
Small he was though he did not look frail
and his temperment was decidedly meek
yet Vestabur felt humbled and quite afraid
of this man who many might think to be weak
for the fire in his eyes and the weight of his words
left the giant too afraid to dare speak
Though this man did his best to reassure him,
Vestabur could not come to feel at ease here
for always was he the most powerful one
yet this tiny man somehow made him to fear
even though he knew this man meant him no harm
making him ever more uncomfortable when he came near
After a time he found the courage to speak
his irrational fear to this gentle little man
and he found himself being able to clearly express
notions that he did not even fully understand
while saying to this compassionate patron of help
how he feared himself no longer in command
The look on this stranger's face released him
from the fear that he felt within his heart
for Vestabur understood that this man knew
his fears and his need to feel apart,
to be bigger and better than all the rest
and how he had need for them all in his heart
"That thou wishst to serve thy people
is honourable is didst bring thou to me
here on thy mountain today," the man said,
"as my wish to serve my people faithfully
hast brought me here to await thee
and to help thou learn what it is thou seeks."
Vestabur relayed his entire life's history
to this stranger upon a cliff high in the air
telling him of his joys and his loves lost
and how the whole world seemed in deep despair
hoping that when he ended his tales of his past
he might be told if his future lay there
Instead the man said nothing at all
of what Vestabur ought next to wish to do
as he motioned toward the top of the peak
saying, "The end is there to go if thou needst to
but what thou may find is within thee now
and will still be there when thy journey is through."
With great trepidations, Vestabur went outside
to gaze at the peak barely visible in the pall
seeming so near that he could be there now
without needing to have to go there at all
and without realizing it he was doing so,
climbing as if answering some inner call
Then it happened as the universe ended
without Vestabur or the snowy mountaintop
because it all had come to an end long, long ago
before the beginning with no story now to stop
for he realized what he wanted could never be
as his whole life fell like rain or a single teardrop
Wanting for everyone to live in joy,
knowing what it truly is like to live free
was to him then and is to us in our time now
forever to be more of a dream than reality
as it can never be that for any who are free
not to be able and therefore not to do, us misery
to make a sound or stir
Contemplating Freedom
Wondering where wistfulness went
my mind briefly yet sagaciously moves
to a time when I thought not of myself
before doing and maybe, before being
letting not preconception deny experience
Why is it now inconceivable to me
to stand naked on the roof beneath the stars,
to run gaily through the feilds rolling with life
and not think myself an ass for loving life
so much as to engage in harmless foolish fun
Where what becomes what for and why not why
is where who I have come to be has since lost me
in the trees whose protective leaves let no one see
the boy inside the man, the girl behind the woman,
loving what little sponataity we're still graciously allowed
The constraints are mine to have or have not
and respect the invisible instigation to keep hold,
to keep in check that urge to burst out laughing
whenever we feel we've stepped into the absurd
yet absurdity lies at the heart of all around us
only now sorrow has replaced the joy
Fears of finding out
Fear drives one away from the mirror,
fear of looking too deeply at bare facts
fate has dealt under pain of death,
fear of seeing what lies beneath us
is only fear of seeing nothing at all
Catch a glimpse of yourself
as you hurry off to nothing important
and you struggle to gather worthless items
valued only by those who feel incomplete
insatiably grabbing all anyone else wants
Fears of not having what others have,
fear of not gaining what is prized most,
this is what ascribes the dictates of beings
who hoard everything to feel they have something
other than the emptiness which devours their souls
Fighting the listlessness contriteness makes
we strike back by attacking those we know
who share the same circumstances we endure cowardly
yet they have the gall to appear contented
so we destroy them to destroy ourselves
The Haunting
As I gaze at the reflections
dancing across the surface
of one of nature's many shallow pools,
I feel as though I am looking
at the ghosts from another time
At the touch of my hand they scatter
only to once again reappear
as the waves slowly begin to quell
and they reveal to me their stories
for they know I need to hear them
But these faces that do haunt me
are not of strangers of long ago
nor are their tales unfamiliar
for they are the different ages of me
and their dreams that did not survive
They are in pools of rain and window panes
and they will follow wherever I go
until the day when I take them back
if ever I decide to again be whole
and no longer bar them from my soul
Once is Me
Once is me
yet I am
every time
close at hand
Over and under,
above is below
Neither I am,
neither I know
Yet and then,
both are now
Never was I,
only how
Once is me,
more is less
falling away
from the crest
to question why
Our Legacy of Lethargy
We live beyond our means
and ponder this facts significance
as we anesthetize ourselves upon
computer simulated dreams,
living a life of decadence
defiantly brandishing our death song
We are the highest form of civilization
outnumbered by the rest of a dying humanity
that languish in shanty towns feeding off trash
as we grow fat in a cultural stagnation
that cannot confront this abominable insanity
dealt to us by those in a long irrelevant past
Our toils are but few
yet our needs and lusts are many
as we feed off the carcass of morality
stripping bare whatever is in view,
killing those without even a penny
and reveling in our own banality
With a cannibalistic fervent
we exploit the desperation of the masses
fighting for resources long since dried
by generations whose resources recklessly spent
always gave priority to the upper classes
which gained ground while the rest slowly died
They were the ones who begot us
as we inherited their wealth and brutality
along with a wasted and worthless planet
that shall soon be ground into dust
so we earnestly accelerate this harsh reality
and rape the few resources left without regret
To Wit
Yea, how the tables become turned
by the clever ones deftly defying criticism
for the abuses or misuses of their powers
by exalting the common man who succeeded
in helping others near or during their rein
thus 'proving' that goodness always flourishes
and those who cannot see it are blind
Shies, the contemptuous praises be
as the praiseworthy are owed their acclamation
to the very perpatrators whose life long wrongs
they sought with their very lives to undue,
fated to have the enemies of their passions
eulogize to all their struggles and erst
putting it in a perspective void of truth
Better they be not to be named or known
than to have their virtues so valiently to be sung
when hence the very meanings they bestow
become tangled in minds by subversive retellings
and having their chaste deeds done for good and all
used to make good men doubt their own good will
removing aspersions aimed at more obvious targets
Automatons
Man or machine, that is the question
which remains to be seen
Shielded by uniforms, we lash out beating and killing
those who are our own brethren
as we convince ourselves we have given up all rights
to question why
We poison and maim, all the while believing
we are not to blame
Behind desks and thick glass, we protect our jobs
by following mindless regulations
often hearing pleas from those that they destroy,
sympathizing yet never helping
Part of the system, we fail to rise above the limits
of its questionable wisdom
Filling the functions of some prepackaged lives
we lose sight of needed changes
and by identifying ourselves with socially programmed desires,
we become something less than human
Sword of the Slight
Outside of the mainstream
the ship of my soul drifts slowly away
cast out upon the uncharted seas
of isolation and unmet needs,
cast out only for being different
by being deficient in an aesthetic way
carrying a face doomed only to displease
No one speaks of it,
of my incarcerating disfigurement
which inevitably will draw their eyes
as I invade the confines of the sight
of the people in a picture perfect world
grown accustomed to uniformity
as enforced by the sword of the slight
They smile as they turn away
and say they are sorry but no,
they do not think that I am the right one
to suit their needs or to be of any help
while continuing the unspoken catharsis
of the submersion of the unseemly
who cannot by numbers defend themselves
Living the life of a pariah
is a harrowing yet illuminating way to be
as you see a great fear hidden safely away,
a fear of ugliness or of imperfection
in people too immersed in superficiality
to know or care deeply for the minds within
and blind to prejudice's subtlest manifestation
the indomitable straits of time
Motions Passing
Motions passing, no one's asking
how it all could be
Days ending, new ones pending
flowing eternally
Onward time, leaving all behind
never letting them be known
Only facts, leaving no tracks
except visions once shown
Empty places, last embraces
wanting to stay real
Everything cries, its disguise
breaks with fate's last seal
Eclipsed
The motions of the universe,
so damningly precise and congruent
mark the seasons of my life
upon an eternal timepiece
created by the spinnings of stars
and mimiced by our watches gears
But what of me, I shout
letting my frustrations spill out
to become absorbed by the blackness
of the peaceful autumn sky
which never breaks its stony silence
to comfort or admonish me
Left to wonder or to die
by divine providence or cruelty
I stand alone too empty to cry
for everyone and for myself
fated to be kept from understanding
the purpose behind their pains
In conquest or perhaps resignation
I tune out the vastness before me
as I slip further into unconsciousness
falling asleep under a cloudless sky
for the indomitable straits of time bind
enough to destroy my hopes of understanding
Moments of Repatriation
There comes a time in everyone's lives
when we cease to press on forward
and then pause to take our bearing
on where we are or where we are going
The motions of the universe appear to halt
and our very existences seem to hang in limbo
while our minds take stock of our intentions
and compare them with our lives thus far
Out of the world and deep within ourselves
we weigh the benefits and risks of returning
yet we gain precious momentum by confronting
the true desires we have for our lives
As suddenly as it stopped, life starts again
and the wheels of the world again turn
pushing us on towards our destinations
somewhat wiser and more self-aware
Waiting
Waiting for the perfect moment
when all of the stars align
and rapture lies only just behind
that moment creeping up slowly
from the soul up into the mind
Waiting while thousands pass
before you though you are blind
seeing only what is yet to come,
seeing only that some-other time
which you might never live to find
Waiting while wondering why
you wait to live but not to die
leaving all of the living left behind
walking through today seeing only tomorrow
with yesterday's dreams still driving your eyes
Waiting without even knowing
or knowing but not caring, you die
each day a thousand deaths, a thousand lies
for perfection lay in each hour, each minute
with only your conception of it to give it its disguise
Tomorrow
Tomorrow I shall awake
to the dawn of a brand new day
unseen, unknown to any who live today
and think and dream and believe
that they know what with it will come or may
as I too asleep to it still yet hail its new way
and dare embrace, to touch, to taste
in haste that which casts today away
for the sake of forsaking this day that stays
too long making me gaze longingly at unseen days
and praise that which may bring only greater pains,
to chance to lose, yes, but to chance to gain,
is twice but chance to lose more of the same
on into the sunset
The Dark Horse
Built like a mighty fortress,
the dark horse rides asunder
with its giant hooves
tearing up the ground,
making sounds like rolling thunder
Relentlessly it surges forth
like a vengeful demon of the night
making all bear witness
to its unbridled fury
and its overwhelming sense of might
Bound by the truth of existence
and binded to an earth dominated by Man,
it searches for escape
the only way that it knows,
by running as far and as fast as it can
Running to every corner of the land,
one and all will sometimes hear it
as it thunders past
seeking limitless pastures
and freedom for its restless spirit
Excelsior
One by one I shall cut the ties
which will bind me to the ground
and I shall feel the pull of the heavens
begging me to rise forth and come hither
I shall sit in the comfort of my airship
and watch the world fall beneath my feet
while setting my gaze upon a far larger world
whereupon the distant and unrelated become one
As I look down from my celestial throne
and revel at the expansiveness of my new sight
I shall carry with me the hopes of the spoiled and the damned,
as they bow before me longing to be set free
Over boarders and barriers I shall drift away
in my craft crowned by heat and golden sunlight
and as countries and continents fade to a distant blur
I shall learn true freedom at the mercy of destiny's winds
Crystal Castles
I live beneath
crystal castles in the sky
Castles waiting for me
until the day when I can fly
They are beautiful,
too beautiful to be seen
Instead you feel them
in your heart and in your dreams
Castles of wonder
too magnificent to describe
With towers of hope
to make your soul come alive
They fly high above us
yet they are always in our reach
Only love can take us there,
love we can learn but never teach
Lexicon
Everyone anxiously jumps upon
an antique train called Lexicon
riding forth steadily toward the sun
carrying all and sparing no one
Out from the multitude of paths
it surges forth leaving all else past
accommodating all wherever they need go
and showing them places only others know
Those who are hurried share space
with those who care not for a frantic pace
as they sit together riding the same line,
both reaching their destinations on time
It brings together all and lets them share
each other's truths and each other's cares
as they enjoy the ride in comfort and style
becoming closer with each passing mile
On into the sunset Lexicon rides
and at each stop its prominence presides
as each young generation climbs on board
eager to know the perspectives it moves them towards
