(no subject)

4-18-15 (part 2: Scenes of Misery)

Even if then just I
We revote until death would die
Crimson flag flying down into the damn
The flag staff
a back
Death flowing like water
Vision on a child
Medal of honor pinned to hot
Bloodied clothes covering cold clammy skin
Rascal smile now gone
Pulling him through the filth
A body wrecked with peace so free
Even yet the rats will naw at fingers
stones reflection
This wedding is bitter
The man's return to tears
Silver sunlight grants fulfilled kiss
Yet still wonders if forgiveness is here
Saintly chair
good bye
in song
Childen of angels seen
Gift silver wrought to joy
Black like forgiveness unseen of
In a sanctuary of candlelight
The embrace
of two
Witness the fulfilled tongues
A drip of water

something I wrote


When the world comes crashing down,. The hero climbs to stand atop the wreckage and look to the horizon. The coward hides under the rubble. This is a story about a coward.

Amidst the thick rising smoke coming off the remains of the town, I saw a child. The smoke, indistinguishable from the morning fog, looked like ghosts being raised from their graves. Be it known to the world: this town was raised; raised to the ground. It is called the fog of war - that silent place in the world where no knowledge breaths - except when death writes its maxims into the ground. Yet, to say war implies some kind of resistance. Last night saw no such event; last night was a massacre. One of the few survivors of the terror of the Drow, I emerged - crawling from the rubble of the temple; from the rubble of my cowardice. When the Drow descended I hid amongst the tomes of the library and, along with the whole world, held my breath.
Be it known to the world: the Drow descended on this town without provocation or reason, save for an otherworldly bloodlust not seen in the eyes of any of Oghma’s children. And so be it known to the world that this journal is to chronicle my journey to find out why this happened.
I, Theren of the family Galanodel (moonwhisper in the common tongue), acolyte of Oghma, am a coward, and I’ll remain unforgiven til the end of my days. But, I will come to understand that night, and what drove the Drow to sack my city. Had I fought, I would likely be smoke right now, but I know that if I had fought back the smoke would have been thinner this morning, and that perhaps someone more worthy would be writing this story now.
The child’s name is Nar, short for Narenor, and with her is a small bear that she calls Nihm. I recognized her as a child of the wood. An orphan, now or before I do not know, she did not appear hurt, though I cannot imagine how she was able to avoid the destruction. And too, unwounded does not mean unscared.
I walked up slowly, making sure not to startle her, and asked of her all that I know now: her name, the name of her small bear cub, and if she was hurt. Her answers were quick and concise - like maybe she was hiding something, or wanted to get somewhere and was annoyed by my questions pausing her mind, yet she stood out in the open, looking me square in the eyes. I was unable to read them. I gave her my name, and asked if she knew what had happened. She did. I asked if she had lived in this town, or near it. She did, and then she said that she was looking for a friend of hers - a badger: the third in our party.
The badgers name is Skylir Elavor. When Nar told me that she was looking for her friend, she suddenly looked around, as if reminded of her quest. She started walking towards the woods that surrounded the area, though I did not see much direction in her steps. They were the steps of time itself, directionless, yet purposeful and unstoppable. The little bear climbed up onto her back when she started moving. I followed Nar as she walked towards the woods, stepping over wood and stone, and flesh and ash - the building blocks of civilization.
I have never really felt apart of it. I was always content to read; to acquire knowledge is the singularly most important task of any life form - it defines the difference between the past and the future; between what is, and what will be. Without the knowledge that I seek, the future will never know what happened here. How many dead bodies have been lost to the twilight of ignorance? What could those bodies have taught us?
A few steps further and I saw a rustle at the edge of the trees, and a small animal came walking out. I saw a flicker of recognition in Nar’s eyes.
Be it known to the world: we three are on a quest, the ending of which I do not know, but I will faithfully transcribe all that we face in the coming days.
The second morning rises soon. And so let what comes, come.

Toward the veil of ignorance

Toward the veil of ignorance.

I wish to ask a question of Rawls's “veil of ignorance”; of that Spector hovering over liberal thinking. For what kind of society will people vote given that most do not believe in you? That is to say - very few would consider themselves ignorant, and would not entertain such a thought experiment when in the voting booth. The certainty of the vote reigns - it is like a ward that staves off thoughts of ignorance. And it's not as if this looming thought experiment is anything but pragmatism. If I do not know in what position I will occupy, then it is best to maximize the possibility of good standing by making all levels of society livable, or even more so - worth living in, and yes at the expense of maximizing the luxury, privilege and happiness of each separate class. But people are not ignorant to where they stand in society, or at least they are not ignorant to where they perceive themselves to stand in society (and in how they stand relative to others). Being that the “veil of ignorance” is not a thought experiment arguing for a universally moral social order, nor an objectively correct social order, both being impossible ends, then we return expectantly to the social ordering, and socially fulfilling (or placating) certainty, of democracy, which is why I ask what would people vote for? They vote for what maximizes their standing in any number of valued positions and identities (a word here used loosely). Simply put - very few people will use a level when building the ideal society, and so such a thought experiment will not pass ballot. This “veil of ignorance” appears truly empty in democratic conversations - one would have to write a constitution instantiating such a society, and only after that letting the people vote on other things not covered by said constitution.

Something I Wrote Today (SIWT)

Of, and from, gold and silver you may drink the blood of God, but see that gold and silver are the fool’s gods, for a finger is pointing (at the wall) and writing something that none will understand - not the best of the wise, or you yourself in your greatest insight, for the greatness of your clothing and riches do nothing to manifest wisdom to interpret the gravest of omens - you must humble yourself, and your gifts, and seek the answer from Daniel; from “God is my judge”; from that which cares not for scarlet robes, or gold, or chains, or rule, and if you do not do so you will be found wanting when death comes to your door.

I have a story that needs to be told

I have a story that needs to be told. Believe me. Listen. Here are my hands, read them. Here are my eyes. Read them. 

You can't? You need a chair to stand on? You need a leg? 

Well, here is my tongue - read it! 

You need a pen? You need light? Lightning! (...) 

here is my body...will you read its eccentricities and extremities? Here are my glasses. Read them! (but you have your own lenses.) 

You need a telos? A telescope? A microscope? Just a prefixed -scope? 

But I have this skin, lashed, like fluttering eyes, for you to read! 

You need a note? A letter? A symphony!? A novel!! Novel literature, and novel science? A novella? The shoe needs to fit, Cinderella?!

But I have this fire! But I have this first, second, and third degree? But I have these words? 

You need words? Great! You already have words? The time for words is past? What about the present and the future?! They have no punctuation…? You need punctuation? A sentence punctured by something other than my own self? I am a fish without gills? 

But I have these dreams; I have these waterfalls to jump over. 

It is not enough? It is not enough when speech is compelled? 

But it's compelling! 

It is a magicians spell? Black magic? White magic? They are both miss-spellings?...

but I have this poem. Please read it. 

A poem is not always good enough? 

Sometimes you just really, honestly - truly, need to listen to that which is beyond your own mouth.