home
***
CD-ROM
|
disk
|
FTP
|
other
***
search
/
Collection of Tools & Utilities
/
Collection of Tools and Utilities.iso
/
dskut
/
readdx30.zip
/
PENTACLE.TXT
< prev
next >
Wrap
Text File
|
1994-01-31
|
50KB
|
1,346 lines
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 (Scandere Reader)
as the primary viewer, even in such cases
where this program is not compatible with
other (non PC compatible) systems. The
purpose of this distribution is to
demonstrate attributes of the above
mentioned program with regards to certain
types of literature.
pentacle
By Jared P. DuBois
(c) Copyright 1990, 94 Jared P. DuBois
Contents
Part 1
- Starry-eyed and Boisterous - Plateau
- The Imposter - Never have I lived
- Outgrown Innocence - Temporarily Occupied
- In My prime - Regrets
- To Wit - Now is the time
- Aimed to Wander - What was then
- Contemplating Freedom
Part 2
- Waiting - My Country
- Distance Closes In - Askance Anew
- Waking - How Tastes Truth
- Ever unexpectedly, joy - Every Word
- Time Again - Tomorrow
- In Ignorance - The Sun
- Where within deceit
Part 3
-Falling through time
-Distant Shores
-Vestabur (Short Version)
Part 1
Starry-eyed and Boisterous
Starry-eyed and boisterous
I soar higher than my imagination flies
eagerly meeting heavenly surprises
before my tottering rationale and reasonings
are again able to catch up with me
Without a net I glide ever higher
without fear of ever again falling below
for fall I shall and fall I shall soon
as no bird or man can escape the dirt
which commands thee and me to return home
Plummeting is the only return left for me
as I have been away too long to long retain
the life of those bound to the ground
solid and stoic yet not without its advantages
such as never going beyond reaching safe returns
So soar I shall in my final few days
forever reaching after what is and isn't there
in the mists of clouds of mystery and wonder
rolling over the world that was never really mine
as seen from above in bewilderment and awe
The Imposter
Deftly weaving fact with fiction,
the charlatan spins a myth to life
filling the need for fools to be fooled
enthralling those who long for mystique
with a tale more vivid than truth itself
Pulling the many away from light of day
he entertains them in his twilight world
where shadows and that which casts them meet,
where one can forever take with none being taken,
and fortune and fate await the unfaithful
When sweeter yet comes the lies over bitter truths
the deceiver himself becomes a sheep within the herd
being swept along by tinder boxes of tarnished dreams
beaconing to the many to cherish false hopes
before plunging off the cliffs of denial at the obvious
From the graves rise all the victims of self deception
yet the soul of the imposter lies nowhere to be found,
so artful was he at convincing all eyes they did not see
with the vision needed to surmount the edges convolux
that he saw not himself by them nor they he by any morsel of the truth
Outgrown Innocence
Damned are they who damn us thus
wreaking havoc on our tranquil worlds
destroying the lives and the minds
of all those who cannot successfully oppose or accept them
while making us who can and do accept them
share the guilt of their bloody deeds
Standing still, looking the other way,
busying ourselves with our lives and children,
none of these things can absolve us
of the perpetuation of injustice and brutal viciousness
inherent in every facet of our 'peaceful' societies
for each part makes possible each atrocity
Survival but at what cost we wonder
while each day learning how high that cost climbs
for knowledge brings only more responsibilities
to be shunned if we are to continue on and prosper
in an ever more arid and poisonous environment
killing all those whose lives possess real value
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 acquiescence
for lessening roles in lesser ambitions
we still believe we are more and have more
as we lose faith in our essence
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 perpetrators 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 valiantly 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
Aimed to Wander
Be it poetic justice
that they who give freely
and ask for nothing should receive nothing
enduring greater pains
and paler pleasures
Causes of dissention
so rigorously demeaning of trust
break the back of that which fosters them
for meaningless is he who rebels
once all the tyrants lay dead
Marks of virtue
show not upon the brow
of he who lies buried in his work
for rare is that he is even to been seen
and rarer still to be heard
Dead is that man
who loses himself so completely
into his quests he leaves no space to compass
what deeds may survive many a fortnight
and attain relevancy
Plateau
I stand in the same place in the same body
with only a few memories added or lost
and though nothing here is visibly different,
nothing here to me looks at all the same
A few opinions changed can change entire outlooks
as mine is not what it was, lest not what I remember it to be
Values added and naive buffoonery lost convince me
that what is lost has nothing over that which is gained
as maturity carries with it ingrained superiority
saving me from feeling now I am tomorrow's ignoramus
Standing still yet in the midst of my life as it was
drives home the fact that I see not with the same eyes
nor shall simple pleasures and simpler not