The Darkening
of a Star
The blazing fire
of chaos
blinds my eyes -
and engulfs me
in this pitch black pit
of night
ambushed
by tiny tears
and foolish fears
leaving me impotent
in my rage
I no longer
weep
For all the
dead
that lie in that
fallowed heap
for they
at least have found
the warm embrace
of sleep
The light
has now become
too bright
as I seek refuge
in the pale dark light
of the
shadowed moon
as I let her
devour me
in her cold moist
juicy womb
as the fire
within me burns
cold heat
I shall ever
bite
and gnaw
at your feet
bob
The Beasties
(A Continuing Series)
Icky stickly beasties #1
Icky stickly little creatures
Crawling, creeping, laughing, weeping
Nightfall falling, horror calling
Shadow beasties grouse about
In this night of darkly sorrow
Death is knocking, howling, screaming
Head is reeling, talons squeezing
Soul is bleeding, beasties feeding
In the cracks in hidden darkness
They are waiting, watching, thirsting
Not the innocent just the wounded
Forever feasting, terror breathing, never sleeping
beasties beasties everywhere #2
When the tide is very low
And the nightfall at it’s deepest
One can see the shadows dancing
Down beneath and far below
Never sleeping always hungry
Fear and loathing is our clothing
Wings a flapping jaws a snapping
Frenzied frantic beastie dance
All we beasties gather about
The meanie beasties hip hop and shout
The feastie beasties bite chop and pout
The human beasties are evil devout
Arise! Arise! You mangled demons
Time to fly in gloomy nightlight
Let our terror be all consuming
Horror! Horror! Is thy name
BeaSTiE bAbiEs #3
When a beastie mates it salivates;
its demons blood of goo and mud
It squeaks, it squeals, it howls, it reeks
from passion dripping off its cheeks
It groans, it moans, it eats its bones
As its fangs rip and sink in its beastie stink
Beastie Babies crawl about
Beastie Babies sing and shout
Mommies lost and Daddies gone
Damned We Be! Alone We Suffer!
How can one scold us when no one will hold us?
When a beastie cries the child within dies
Darkness creeps in with nothing but sin
Malice takes hold; the heart turns ice cold
Humanity suffers as hell’s troops grow strong
For heaven abandoned the damned and its children
To wander the world with their hate made by fate
Beastie Mommies howl in anger and pain
Beastie Daddies show disgust and distain
Unsanctified unions brings lust and confusion
What need for a baby they just cause us more shame
How can one judge us when no one will love us?
When a beastie prays it’s for the end of all days
Total annihilation will bring relief and cessation
For only in death will peace finally come
But Death in ITS Wisdom will make them live on forever
For they are ITS children without hope or a home
And though they’re forgotten, cursed, damned and alone
Humanity Needs Them to Show Which Road Leads To Hell
A Beastie Treat #4
We like the taste of your button toed feet
They smell delicious and pungently sweet
Your legs are as soft as rain
It amuses us to hear you scream in pain
How dare you think us as cannibals!
Like some sick vicious and sadistic animals
Was it not you who had dreams of the dead?
Did you not willingly lay upon our crimson bed?
What did you think we would do-
groan and grunt together and be one with you?
But in our own way that’s what we intend to do
To eat every last little bit of you
For GOD has given you to legion and mE-
and a human beastie you so shall forever be
In hell you’ll pay
In hell you’ll stay
Never again in light you’ll be
Only horror will you ever see
Damned you are, damned you’ll be
Damned forever and eternity
Feastie Beasties #5
Now to bed,
Sleep deep, not lightly
For in the slumber
You’ll meet the dead
They prey upon
The weak and wounded
That’s what beasties
Feed and gnaw on
Think good thoughts,
While sleep is falling
Block the darkness;
Be not distraught
Don’t get caught
In nightmares fancy
Winged beasties posed as pixies
So enchanting much to chancy
Befalling heartache lay to rest
No need to join the dispossessed
Stay alert, not dark and dreary
While you sleep or you’ll pay dearly
Only the Wicked do The Beasties Eat #6
Little browns don’t make a sound
They prick our skin to make us frown
Yellow-greens hip hop around
They make our bellies jump up and down
But beastie reds crawl in our heads
While sleeping soundly on our beds
They eat and feast, devour whole
A little pocket within our soul
Oh daddy mommy what should I do
Don’t let the beasties eat me too
I’ll say my prayers and do my chores
Please protect me from there festered jaws
I’ll take a bath, clean beneath my ears
Don’t let them prey upon my fears
I’ll go to school and study hard
Keep them forever out my bed and yard
Misunderstood from children so
Only the wounded do we go
We hunt and feast of those our kind
Whose souls are twisted by Mankind
So tell your mommy and daddy too
To tell the truth about what we do
Fore if they don’t they’ll feel our wrath
And then you’ll need to take that bath
A beastie little beast #7
What kind of beast
is this little beastie beast?
For as it stings it sadly sings
of many horrid little things
while it brings with it sickly death
on its scaly withered wings
In your sleep it will creep
Up your spine it will dine
It will lick on your bones
and suck up all your blood
It will bite through your heart
While it rips the soul apart
Its fetid breath stinks of death
For never will it rest
As it eats and it feasts
On its tasty little treats
Who is this
little beastie beast’
who devours humankind
on those un-atoned brittle bones
by God’s deviously divine design
For it’s our sin that does us in
inviting the beast
that lies within
An abomination!
Our dark creation!
Our very own
little beastie kin
The Beastie Shout #8
we Beasties shout pout and grouse about
we like to howl growl and make things foul
our fun begins when you nod off to sleep
in your head we eat spit and bite till you weep
as we weave our pretty nightmares for you to keep.
in your bed where you seem most like the dead
is where we feed and gnaw and play with your head
oh what fun it is to hear your screams
as we vomit bile into your once sweet dreams
we beasties laughs and sings as we do our beastie things
To hell we come
In hell we shout
This is what beasties are about
Our names are lost
And we are few
We need more blood
We’ve come for
YOU
A beasties interlude #9
The little beastie sings
Lots of awful things
It’s in my head
On my bed
My eyes
Ears
It crawls
In my nose
It bites my toes
Sucking up my blood
While eating at my fears
A Beasties Carol #10
it’s such a ghastly,
grisly, brutal,
thing
when the little beasties
sing, bite, and sting
bugaboos and bugabees
tiny bugs, bloated slugs
crawling, creeping,
never sleeping,
gnawing, goring
some are snoring,
others falling,
all are feeding,
forever needing,
eating, seething,
always breeding
fear and loathing
is their calling
peek a boo
peek about
beastie in
beastie out
between the cracks
on the floor
in the dirt
behind the door
don’t let them in
sweep them out
close the door
dig out the dirt
seal the cracks
prevent attacks
before they bite
and sting
and sing
of dastardly dank and darkly things
as they grouse, feast, and dance about
and hip, hip hop and SHOUT
You better Watch Out
You better not lie
You better not cheat
I’m Telling You why
The Beasties are a coming
Yes, the Beasties are a coming
------To ToWN-----
And they’re very, very Hungry…
~Burp~
Beastie Mommy #11
In the cold breath of moonlit night
beasties howl in crescent light
crawly creepies weeping shrieking
shivering quivering slithering withering
wing torn dragons scarred and broken
moaning groaning sighing writhing
shadow dandies cringe in horror
growing floating bloating exploding
bellies flopping hip hop hopping never stopping
sin is fading
evil waning
as
beastie babies and all their kin
burn away in luminosity’s might
but never fear my beastie dears
for it’s only just a brief respite-
for come the morrow
on and after
the mommy beastie
hums and waits
till
dimming of the
moonlit moon
lays its eggs in dim dark corners
weaving webs around our hearts
making light fade into darkness
where beastie babies swarm about
singing and stinging and doing their shout…
~Thanks Mommy~
Beastie Bones #12
Dirty bones
Unread tomes
Double sin
Rotting skin
Burnt and broken
Words not spoken
Misused knowledge
Horror hoorah hooray
Our souls we sold away
Moonlight swim
Bedtime dim
Hollow be thy way
authors note: These are my beasties poems-a dark little piece of fun- I love writing these and hope to continue them as long as my dark muse is willing.
till next time
bob
Apocalyptic Snapshots # 5
~doubt~
leap of faith
waking from a dream
nothing left to do but die
~fear~
free fall into a black hole
calm before the storm
the beast waits
~hope~
a choice
sinner or saint
the apple or the seed
embrace illusions tapestry
free will
deep in the jaws of hell will you find heaven
and to your surprise you come to realize
that they are both one in the same…
(Inscription found on Hell Tablet G, attributed to be the words of Lilith-Queen of the Hell Realms)
The Sorceress, Tessa Del Bellasuna, known by the masses as The ‘Blue Dolphin’ felt the weight of the world thrust upon her shoulders without the abbess’s wisdom and counsel to administer to her needs. Two moon cycles had past since Alucia Delecourt, The High Priestess and Abbess of the Dolphenian Order, disappeared into the Hell Gate Tapestry. Tessa was fully aware that the Tick Tick Tock of Time was a fluid thing between tapestry to tapestry and what was two monthly cycles to her could be but a minute or even a second to the Abbess. Knowing this did not alleviate the sense of foreboding that invaded her being the second Alucia stepped into that damnable tapestry contaminated by hells dust. The thought of her being lost forever in Hells Embrace constantly gnawed and chewed away at her mind. She should have never allowed it but how could one say no to the shadow ghost of the One that is She. Tessa’s meditative reverie was cut short as the Vaults alarms came to life. A tickle of hope; that the High Priestess had returned from the Tapestry Quest, tingled through her fingers. Alucia must have succeeded in her quest and found the Greenfire Tapestry. Now ultimate power and the destiny of all the Tapestry Holds would be controlled by the Dolphonic Order. She headed toward the Vault Room like a giddy school girl anticipating her lovers embrace. All of her giddiness and dreams of glory quickly evaporated as she entered the room. She found the Vault Doors askew and the chamber hall dark and unguarded. The musky scent of male sweat invaded her nostrils. In the corner of the room perched in a lotus position was her arch nemesis, former lover from a bygone time, as well as brother and kin, The Red Cockroach, also known as Jeddiah Sendalay of the Morningstorm Clan.
Appendix C of The Tangled Tapestry
Authors note: For those waiting on the next installment (chapter xxxi) of the Tapestry I can assure you I’m working on it with due diligence and it will be out in a short while. Lucifer is itching to unfurl His wings…
It was while writing the 31st chapter where the idea emerged to add an appendix (A-J) to the tapestry. For the longest time I wanted to find a feasible way to integrate some of my speculative philosophical ramblings (A Conversation on Free Will, The Flow of Time, and other various nuggets) that I’ve written-into the body of the tapestry. Putting them in the main body of work was out of the question as they would just stall and drag down the story. I needed to find a framework that would make them fit into the weave of the work.
I found such a framework (The Appendix) and used the landscape of my poem, “Apocalyptic Moments”, (that leads off the 31st chapter of my continuing tale) as the place and time from whence these writings came from.
as the walls came tumbling down
an itsy bitsy spider weaved its web
amongst the bug infested ruins of Armageddon
whilst the last rites of the red cockroach
(administered by mealy mouth maggots
whispering sanctimonious platitudes)
sent the faithful into a frenzy of despair
in the clear sparkling waters of heaven
an itsy bitsy spider laid its colorless eggs
amongst the pristine ruins of Avalon
whilst the coronation of the blue dolphin
(administered by God obsessed virgins
singing songs of jubilee)
signaled to the faithful that rapture was at hand
in the cold dark corridors of hell
the itsy bitsy spider gave a halleluiah shout
as it crawled back into the bloated belly of the beast
it’s the small things in life that go unnoticed…
I intend to write a series of short stories and flash pieces, based on this poem, about the end of the third and final age of man and put them into the history section of the appendix along with my speculative writings. In this poem it seems as if the Beast won- but nothing is as it seems…
The Great Monk, Santo Nicola, (Lucifer in human form) is the trusted spiritual advisor to the “Red Cockroach” (the Anti-Christ) in this distant or near future age. Ah! but this is a tale for another time …
I wrote “A Conversation on Free Will” about seven years ago on an internet site dedicated to esoteric topics. I’ve since rewrote and punched up parts of it to fit into the tapestry but the overall content and message of the piece remains the same. On one level the Tapestry is one big chess match between Lucifer, Lucifina, Death and their offspring. I believe this piece is quite relevant to the “Tangled Tapestry”….
APPENDIX (E)
(Excerpts of The Great Monk Santo Nicolas’s unfinished manuscript and recordings on the conversations He had with the Dolphenian Abbess, Alucia Delecourt, concerning Free Will, Time Streams and other matters of interest)
* found amongst the ruins of Avalon by the acolytes of the Red Cockroach
A CONVERSATION ON FREE WILL
Part I
THE SKETCH
The Abbess: Free can have a lot of different meanings. Monetary free? Or perhaps Freedom? Etc..... When I use it in the term "free will" I am trying to express that I believe we possess a freedom to choose our actions. I also believe with this freedom comes responsibility. I think if we did not have this freedom then we could not be culpable for any actions we make, or would the idea of personal responsibility mean a thing. It would be a useless concept as far as I am concerned.
The Monk: humph !WELLLLLLLLLLL ! I don't think so. There is nothing in the word "FREE" that is free. What the hell is really free? Free! It‘s a word wrought with illusion. Anything of worth---comes with a price…
WHAT'S IN A WORD
I never was comfortable with the term "Free Will." The implication of free will implies that we have unlimited freedom aided by the use of our will in the choices and decisions that we make: That we are free to make our own destiny and not pay the devil heR due. As stated above "what the hell is free," is anything really free? The word free implies no cost, while in reality free entails great cost and limits one's choices significantly. I will attempt in the next few paragraphs to explain my views on this topic and to clarify and expound in more depth what I perceive the function of freewill to be.
CHESS ANYONE
In order to play chess one needs to be familiar with the basic rules and the fundamental goals and objectives of the game. One needs to learn how each piece moves through the board. Each class of pieces (king, queen, bishops, knights, rooks and pawns) has specific and set functions on the way they interact and move on the board. They have defined and UN-refutable rules on what choices of moves they can or cannot make. There are four primary choices or moves that the player needs to be aware of in order for him/her to play the game with some efficiency: The open move, The closed move, the forced move and the dead move.
1) The Open Move: These are the open spaces of the board. Each piece moves in the accordance of their set functions. These are the moves that can be made within the confines of the game. Nothing is blocking that space, one is free to move in any space one wishes as long as that space is open. It may be a good move or a bad move or an indifferent move that's of really no concern, but one must have an open space to move in order to proceed to the next move in search of another open move. To put it more simply, these are moves that can be done by following and adhering to the natural laws of the game.
2) The Closed Move: These are the closed spaces of the board. These are the moves that cannot be made within the confines of the game. The space is blocked or not accessible to that particular piece. For example; A closed move to a pawn would be moving to a side or back space in the beginning or middle part of the game. A pawn can only move forward to an empty space or diagonally one space for a kill. All other moves are closed. The closed move can become open and the pawn can take the role of the queen and increase the amount of open spaces if he can reach the end space of the opposing side and transform his power base. His function has changed but the rules that govern him has not. A closed move can then be said to be a possibility as a open move but one only in a future sense as an open move is a possibility in the now sense but can very well turn in to a closed move in the future or could have been one as well as in the past.
3) The Forced move: This is where there is only one space to move to. No other choice or option remains open. To move to any other space would be suicidal. Your moves are not in your control but are at the mercy of another. A forced move can turn into an open move with a little bit of skill on your part and a bit of misjudgment on the one that lead you into the forced space. Turning the forced move into a closed move is checkmate.
4) The Dead Move: These are the moves that defy and negate the natural laws and rules of the game. A king cannot move like a queen and if the king does so then the game that is played is not chess but some mutation. These moves are what I would call delusional moves that lead only to dead ends.
ROBOTS ARE PEOPLE TO
When one just learns how to play chess one moves all over the board without any particular direction in mind. If the opposing player is at a higher level then the beginner that player then can easily anticipate the moves of the beginner and direct the beginners moves, and for all intent and purposes making them forced moves. To the novice he sees all these possible choices, and dives into these open moves with a dim picture of where they will take him. He thinks his choices are his own but we know better don't we?
As the beginner becomes a journeymen and the journeymen becomes an expert and the expert becomes a master his undirected will as a beginner turns to directed will as a master. He has a clear vision of the board; he can plan ten moves ahead and direct the opponents moves to his advantage. He wastes no moves, he knows when closed moves will open and when open moves will close. The more proficient he becomes; the less choice he needs to make. Here ends my chess analogy.
DIRECTED AND UNDIRECTED WILL
The Abbess: Having no "free will" relegates who we are, and what we have to offer as holding no special significance. Perhaps this is the "problem of perception that is at the root of almost all our misunderstandings as human beings?"
It is a wishful thinker who believes their actions are chosen for them, and that nothing they do has universal impact or consequences. It is a wishful, lazy person who believes they become actualized/aware/conscious without personal effort, preparation, participation, or consent in the process.
The Monk: The more clearly our vision the deeper our understanding becomes of the space that we occupy, therefore; the less choice’s we need or have to make. The less clear our vision, the less we understand the space that we occupy therefore the more choices we need to make. Most of them will be wasteful and more will be wrong rather then right. Directed will is being aware of the moves that we should avoid and the moves we should take. Knowing which open move to go too, becoming aware when a closed move becomes open, and when faced with a forced move knowing how to make it open. The more directed your will becomes the more able you are to be in control of your life rather then having someone or thing direct it for you. Free will is undirected will, it gives us the illusion that we are in control of our lives, our destiny, while in reality we jump into a series of forced moves that puts us to sleep at the wheel. Free will is not free, it limits our real choices, it makes us lazy and fat. There’s no such thing as a free ride.
Part II
FLESHING IT OUT
The Abbess: ~ In your analogy, the opposing players represent who or what? ~I am having some trouble discerning who the master player/s might represent considering their clear view, and future knowledge, and who the opponent/s might represent? I think I understand pretty well your view, but it would really help me understand it even more if you could clarify these details in your sketch for me.
The Monk:
On a literal level: chess players
On a historical level: Us
On a psychological level: Self
On a spiritual level: The knower and the UN knower, the wounded and the healed
On a social Level: The reader determines what it represents for themselves.
The Abbess: Can humans be turned into these omniscient master chess players? Or, is God the master chess player?
The Monk: The chess master or any master is not omniscient or all knowing (let’s leave that to GOD) or if one thinks that they are then they are in what I call a dead move or in a state of delusional thinking. In the case of the chess master for him to have reached that level he had to go to many stages and transitions, playing thousand upon thousands of games, studying and honing his craft. From trial and error, determination and commitment and intense focus he learns the strategies, the nuances and the natural flow of the game. He has a clear picture of the board; he and the board are part of each other. Does he manipulate his opponent into forced moves, Of course he does-- the purpose of the game is to win? Can he lose? Of course he can-- but it’s not about winning or losing, it truly is about how well you play and how true you are to the game
The Abbess: ~How does the undirected will of the beginner "turn into" a directed will of a master? Does it automatically happen over time? Or, is this a silly question because our destiny is our destiny, and a master has no choice but to be a master?
The Monk: By slowly waking up to your surroundings and becoming aware about where you are. It happens step by step, nothing miraculous about it. You need to want to learn, to grow, to heal, and to love. It takes physical, mental, emotional and spiritual strength. No, it does not happen automatically, you have to want it, need it and be open to it. Our destiny is what we make of it by the choices we take and don't take. We have a choice to live in forced moves and to bleed from our wounds and be happy in our ignorance or to transcend our ignorance and go to the next level.
The Abbess: I can only hope that’s not my destiny to be a master player in your chess game.
The Monk: I'm sorry to hear that. It would be a fun match.
The Abbess: If I played your chess game I would hope my destiny was to be one of
those poor novice saps who did not know every possible move, who lacked the ability to see and predict every future move of my opponent, who did not have full control and power to manipulate and force my opponent to move where I would always have the advantage, who could still be surprised while ignorantly thinking I am freely responding spontaneously and authentically to unanticipated/unknown moves. At least it would be more interesting, worthwhile, vulnerable, and emotionally exciting for me to actually play the game, rather than just sitting back watching the game play itself out knowing the outcome is that I will always win, and my opponent will be successfully manipulated by me to lose.
The Monk: And I rather be the chess master who beats and manipulates “the poor sap“, for that is the choice “the poor sap” chooses to make. As I stated before the chess master does not know all but he knows much. The game always changes, the outcome is never the same, and although the master would always beat “the poor sap” and know the outcome of that game, he would still take joy in the game. Ignorance is bliss as the saying goes, but once the apple has been tasted, ignorance loses it shine.
The Abbess: Will the objective of the master be the same as it was as a novice, or is it possible that a paradigm shift might have occurred while in process? If a paradigm shift takes place would this mean there is more than one choice for the master to make, even with awakened knowledge?
The Monk: The master/novice objective: To be aware on how, when, and where, one moves and does not move through the spaces that one moves and does not move through. The preparation and identification definitions that are defined and understood by the master and are undefined and not realized by the novice. The objective is the same for both, that does not change, but the perspective and the level of understanding that each has, on what it is to be aware, and on how, when, and where does one move, and not move, are not the same. There is always more then one choice to make for the master. He's not just confined to one choice, limited to one action, directed to one particular space over any other space. He is aware, awake and open to all the moves that can and need to be made, as well as those that cannot and don't need to be made. His approach, perspective and understanding differs from the other levels in how he views the connection, inter-changeability and mutuality of the moves within the spaces and the spaces within the moves. All the moves and spaces are totally connected; can be changed from one to another, and one is of the same mutuality as the other. To put in less obtuse terms: When one chooses to become a master player one embarks on a set of moves with a multitude of variations and possibilities that may differ in approach, perspective, and understanding between say that of a chess player and a checker player. Even the how, when, and where or the basic precepts one needs in understanding which moves to go too will help you understand why you went there. It will enable you to see the bigger picture from the smaller one and with that comes the realization that the smaller and the bigger are variations of the same thing: That all the spaces and moves are really one space and move. It may differ in execution, structure, and form, but one thing remains constant: Your CHOICE to become a Master Player.
There was only one choice to be made if one wanted to become a master chess player and that was choosing to become a master chess player. From that choice a whole set of moves and choices will evolve and unfold. One needs to be an expert before one becomes a master-One must choose to become an expert and from that choice a whole set of moves and choices will evolve and enfold-One needs to be a journeymen before one can become an expert-One must choose to be a journeymen and from that choice a whole set of moves and choices will evolve and enfold-One needs to be a novice before one can become a journeymen, expert or master and from that choice a whole set of moves and choices will evolve and enfold. You only have really two choices at each level to choose from, to choose or not to choose to become a novice, journeymen, expert and master. Each choice that you choose from at each level will determine which set of moves that will go in motion and which that will not. And when one is at the master level, the master realizes that there was only one choice that led him to the set of moves and spaces that made him a master. If he made any other choice other then choosing to be a master then he would have been something other then a master. All the spaces led to one space and all the moves became one move. In the one there is the many and in the many there is the one and the master swims through each.
The Abbess: Are you saying the master players and opponent players are all interchangeable on all these levels?
The Monk: Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. The novice and the journeymen, the journeymen and the expert, the expert and the master, the master and the novice, the expert and the expert, the challenger and the opponent ... many variations and combinations all interchangeable, all various aspects of each other, all moving simultaneously within the spaces that they occupy.
In the novice, the journeymen, expert and master are hidden, blocked, unexpressed, in a frozen and still state, lying dormant within the novice. As the novices attempts to move he first needs to know where, when and how to move. He cannot differentiate between an open, closed, forced or dead move. It seems to him that he has many choices; that he is free to move within any space that he desires. But in reality his choices are limited, he first needs to know where and where not too move. He then needs to know when and when not too move. Lastly he needs to know how and how not too move. These are the basic precepts he must learn before he even takes a step in order to be able to differentiate to what even constitutes what is and what is not a space before he even makes a choice on which move to take. If he's unwilling or unable or impatient or inattentive or just plain lazy in not trying to learn the importance, value and necessity of learning and grasping these fundamental precepts, then the only moves he will be able to make are forced moves that lead only to dead moves. As he learns and integrates these precepts within the confines of the space that he occupies then he is able to understand that he can only move to the surrounding spaces that border along his space rather than moving to any space that he chooses. The journeyman within him has become unblocked and makes himself visible. The novice has now learned all that the novice needed to learn in order to precede to the next level and now integrates, ascends and transcends into the Journeymen who proceeds to move among the surrounding spaces that border on his space.
In the journeymen the expert and master are hidden, blocked and unexpressed in a semi-frozen and restless state, soundly sleeping within the journeymen; who is also the novice. By having an understanding of the where, when and how to move within the spaces that surround him and having differentiated between what is a space and not a space he is now better attuned to identify an open move from a closed one and a forced one from a dead one. His choices are more limited then before but the quality of those choices; have more content and meaning then that of the novice. His need is to find out which move to go to. Rather then choosing randomly like that of the novice without any constructive thought where one was going, the journeymen now knows that their are a particular set of choices to choose from that lead to other sets of choices. Although he may be able to identify the moves he still does not understand which move to choose that would be advantageous. Any open move is as good as another for he relies on luck and chance to help him throw the dice, and like the novice he jumps into the spaces he moves to without knowing where the next space would leave him. Luck can only take you so far and chance cannot be counted on-but if the journeymen learns to identify and navigate out of the forced move that leads to closed and dead moves he can then move on to the next level. The expert within him awakens. Like the novice the journeyman now ascends, transcends and integrates into the expert who proceeds to map out his moves beyond the surrounding spaces that border on his space.
In the expert only the master remains hidden, held down with a firm hand in a thawed state dreaming of what it would be like to be awake. The expert who is also the journeymen and the novice moves more securely within his space and the spaces around him. He has a deeper understanding and an intuitive grasp of where, when, and how to move within the spaces and clearly differentiates between an active and non-active space. He sees and knows the moves for what they are and most of the time he knows which move to take. The expert can visualize a few spaces ahead and mostly chooses the open space that is more advantageous. He doesn't rely on chance and luck as did the journeymen although he does take those into consideration when considering a move, but he relies on the depth of his knowledge, intuition and skill when deciding which move to make. His choices are now more lucid and limited for he understands the why of the move. He knows why an open move can turn into a forced move and how a forced move can turn back into an open move or when a closed move becomes open and when an open one can become closed. His will becomes more directed, he becomes more alert, awake and joyful.
The master within him arises. The master awakes and the expert transcends, ascends and integrates into the master now fully alive, all that was hidden is now fully manifest. The expert, the journeyman and the novice have woken the master within and they embrace each other as one in the same. The master now knows what he knows and does not know. What he can know and cannot know. What he can do and cannot do. Where he can go and cannot go. He sees all the moves, the open move, the closed move, the dead move and the forced move as one Open move and all the active and non-active spaces as one Space. His will is fully directed, fully alert, and fully alive. He dances and laughs with joy and among the dancers we find the journeyman, the novice and the expert trying to keep up with the beat. So the master descends and integrates with each as the dance continues on ...
Before I continue on with the next chapter of this little cosmic tale of mine, I need first to go back to the beginning and attempt to explain the reasoning and influences that spurred on this work. I’m doing it for those who have already read parts of this tale as well as for those who haven’t yet read a word in order that they may get a better understanding of the meaning behind the work, as well as sharing in the creative process along with this author. I realize this may be a conceit of mine but my original intention aside from posting a rough draft of the tapestry was also to write about the process of the writing of it as well. In the next few postings I intend to write a detailed synopsis and commentary of the 1st Part as well as an outline of the next 2 parts that’s partially sketched out in my mind. In this essay I will layout the foundations that had a hand in creating the Tangled Tapestry and a preface that introduces the work.
THE FOUNDATIONAL BLOCKS AND INFLUENCES OF THE TANGLED TAPESTRY
Like thousands of other self proclaimed writers and poets I’ve always been drawn to the darker shades and etchings of humanity. Temptation, desire and the seven dark flavors of sin that Mankind feeds upon is fodder and drink for the writer’s ink. Desire, temptation and sin are the arrows, knives and bullets that can either lead us to damnation, salvation, negation or liberation. It’s the different influences, experiences, education and mindset (spiritual or otherwise) of the individual writer that determines what type of interpretation one puts on those darker shades and etchings. As for myself I’m considered somewhat of a magical thinking science and logic loving existentialistic pagan breathing agnostic, a conundrum and a bit of a contradiction to be sure, but nothing is ever truly all black and white or even the ubiquitous gray, but only shades and hues of those pervasive two and its composite. My Novel, “The Tangled Tapestry “ is my interpretation on how the dark and light layers weave and interact together to create one sprawling intricate web of creation out of the nothingness of GOD.
Nothing is ever created in a vacuum (or so the physicists say) or by imagination alone without prior informational criteria acting as its catalyst. That accumulated information forms a foundational base which functions like a filling station for the imagination. In order for any creative activity to find its bones and articulate its position it needs a strong foundation to work with. No matter how original or unique a particular work may be the ideas and imagination that produces that work utilizes gathered information and remixes it into one that is uniquely their own. This work of my fevered mind is no exception. For the purposes of this essay I will only name the major influences and building blocks that helped germinate the weaving of this Tapestry; for if I was to name them all I would then have to write all the boring details about my thinking patterns and where each and every particular idea come from, which for the sake of space and maintaining interest, I have no intention of doing.
I’ve always wanted to write an Epic Work, written in prose and verse, concerning my thoughts and subjective musings on GOD, Nature and the Creation of the Universe. “The Tangled Tapestry” is my attempt at writing a biblical version more suited to my temperament and blasphemous impulses. I’ve always found the Bibles version quite lacking in vision and balance although it did leave a lasting footprint on my mind. It opened the floodgates of my imagination and satisfied some of my spiritual cravings by introducing me to the concepts of Good and Evil and of Heaven and Hell where Satan, God and their angels dwelled. Now don’t get me wrong, for I do believe the Bible to be, (in parts) a Literary Masterpiece and a great source of Spiritual Knowledge and Wisdom. But I also believe it was written by the priestly elite, wild eyed prophets and God obsessed zealots with a particular agenda in mind which I so happen to fervently disagree with. Notwithstanding that this “Book” was the source of much of my spiritual and intellectual disillusionment and distain towards monotheistic male dominated and chauvinistic religions in general; one can’t deny the great social and religious impact that this “Work” has had and still has in western society (Negative and Positive), as well as being a source of inspiration for writers of all religious and spiritual persuasions.
I’ve used the bible as a foundational template for my novel but the heart and soul of the work lies with other great works that have influenced and shaped my intellectual, spiritual and creative worlds.
“Paradise Lost”, Dante’s “Divine Comedy”, Virgil’s “Aeniad”, Tolkien’s “Silmarillion” and Wagner’s Opera “Twilight of the Gods”, are the ambrosia that feeds the tapestry. These great masterpieces are the strings that make up the Thread that’s spun and woven into the mosaic that makes up this little mythological epic of mine. Of course there are a few other strands of strings that help make up the thread but these are of a lesser stitch, with similarities to the works mentioned, so rather then being redundant I felt it best to let the reader fill in the blanks. Much of the flavor, vision and landscape of the tapestry were heavily influenced by these literary marvels and in a sense my work is a tribute to their genius. One may think me the arrogant fool with balls the size of Texas to even think that I have the writing chops to attempt such a work and the misguided conceit to even remotely compare my novel to these masterpieces, but if not me, then who?
If not for my rediscovery of the internet some eight or so years ago, this work of mine would be nothing more than but a whisper in my restless and underused mind. It made me hone in on and take note of my writing skills; a skill that I was sorely lacking in and always found to be excruciatingly numbing and none to enjoyable to do. It was this distaste for writing and my utter lack of discipline in that area that contributed to my leaving the halls of higher learning. I essentially stopped writing (except for the occasional postcard, letter or work related affair) when I left the academic world in the early eighties to pursue a different vocation in the world of lesser dreams. My first foray into this superhighway of cyber-reality and electronic illusion was on an unmoderated discussion site concerning Esoteric topics. It was here that I learned to become a disciplined writer not out of necessity but choice. My dislike of writing waned and my creative juices were rekindled. My poetic and philosophically driven muse came out of exile and helped me pen my first poem in over eighteen years (Nothing to speak of-Tapestry poem # 5 ) to a fairly warm reception from a readership mainly made up of psychologists, therapists and new age practitioners. Like a lovers bite, the poetic bug bit me hard and fast, whereby a magnificent obsession and passion was born. I knew that I needed to find a different venue to better learn the craft as well as to explore the unfamiliar world of poetry and writing in general. After a few years sputtering around the internet looking for a site that would suit my needs I finally hit pay dirt by coming across not one but three writing sites (Lit.Org, Writing Forums, and the Internet Poets Society-{now defunct} ) that have influenced, shaped and made me the writer that I am today. If not for them “The Tangled Tapestry” would be nothing more than a title without a story occupying space in the cluttered corridors of my mind.
Before I end this portion of the essay I need to acknowledge four outstanding and gifted writers (Claire, Lilia, Kitten Courna, and Tinalouise) that have exerted a tremendous influence on the tapestry and on my writing overall. This is not to say that I haven’t been helped and or influenced by other writers on these sites, for surely I have. But these four in a sense became my earthly or cyber muses; inspiring me to creative heights that I was unable to reach before. They enabled me to create the color and landscape that is the Tapestry.
Two of my beloved muses (Claire and Lilia) are controversial to say the least, one being involved in a multi-site scandal involving identity issues while the other being banned or cast out due to devilishly impish or erratic behavior attributed to her multi-personas. It was decided (by those who decide such things even though not everyone may have agreed) that {Lilia’s} actions were not conducive to the overall well being of the writing community in which she was a part of. As for {Claire} she was condemned for doing harm to the gullible, naïve, and trusting by creating a three dimensional persona( a masterwork) that was extremely active and popular amongst various sites. When that character (Claire Robinson) got to hard or tedious to maintain she was then given a fatal disease and killed off. The Internet in general is a strange place, a virtual Theater of the Absurd, were illusion and reality coexist side by side and are often blurred together. Concerning myself, I never had a problem with its illusionary nature although I’ve found that others can’t seem to see-or don’t want to see-what’s inside all that smoke and fog. Those with a literal and linier way of seeing things tend to take it way too seriously. I see these firebrands as great performance artists with a wicked sense of humor albeit a somewhat odd sense of what constitutes fun. Many in the writing community see them in quite a different light. Be that as it may; there is still no denying that they helped and inspired many a writer and their shadows still remain etched on the sites where they bestowed their art. These be my Muses of the Night.
Claire, or the writer behind the created persona, was the one who encouraged me to try my hand at fictional prose while interviewing me for, ”Exposed”, a series based platform where she interviewed members of the writing community at Lit.Org whom she found of interest. I was a fan of her work and admired her writing
skills and when one of that caliber took an interest in my poetry it gave me the juice that I needed to continue to hone my craft. When I posted my poems it was her critique that I looked for. I highly valued her opinions concerning writing so when she suggested that I consider writing fictional prose (a area of writing I never considered) I took note and seriously considered it. Also the seed from where the Tapestry was born
was to be found in my answer to one of the last questions she asked me:
Q: If you could sit down in your library with a group of six (living or dead) what would you want to know, and what would you like to ask?
A: I only need two to sit down with. That would be God and Lucifer.
First I would want to ask if they created us or did we create them. Then I'd ask them for the meaning of existence and to kiss and make up.
From Her did the Tapestry take life and for that I will forever be grateful to My Lady Claire for planting the seed…
Lilia is a character study unto itself. She’s passionate, argumentative, brilliant, duplicitous, funny, opinionated, helpful, wrathful and one hell of a great poet/ writer/artist . She’s very much like “Lilith” one
of my central characters in the tapestry. Most writers base their characters loosely on people they know and I’m no exception. Since my novel is a cyberspace baby, most of the people that I base my characters on are those that have cyber lives in the cyber lands. Lilia is one of my cyber-soul sisters-a kindred spirit- (the other being, Tinalouise which I will get to in due time) whom I based my character Lilith upon. She has shown great enthusiasm for my work. Her critiques and advice were invaluable tools that enabled me to better hone my craft. She understood the spiritual and philosophical undertones of many of my pieces, especially the Tapestry and my Circle Poems (a series of poems based on Dante’s Inferno). After each release of a new poem to the set, it was her critique that I looked for, to see if I got the tone and flavor right. After I finished this series I realized how much I enjoyed doing episodic or series based poetry. A light bulb went off and an idea for an Epic Poem that turned into the tapestry sizzled in my brain. And if not for Lilia’s advice and encouragement that she gave me on the circle poems, I may never have attempted to undertake a project such as the tapestry. She juiced up my ego and made me feel that I had the writing bones to write on a larger scale.
From Her did the Tapestry take root and for that The Mistress Lilia has my eternal gratitude…
And now for My Muses of the Light:
Kitten Courna will always be for me “The Mother of the Beasties”. Her poem “Creatures” a delightful
and sweet children’s opus, inspired me to write a darker version, where her harmless little bugs became fanged serpents with hellish intentions. They soon took on a life of their own as I became obsessed with my little beastie friends. The beasties series would be dead in the water if Kitten found it in bad form. As a matter of fact she quite enjoyed my take on her poem and followed the beastie series with keen interest. Her critiques and poetic advice were an immeasurable help towards me finding my poetic voice. I found my poetic bones through the beastie poems. They made me fly amongst the clouds and winds of my imagination and experience the true magic and joy of writing. I eventually tied the beastie poems with another series of mine (the memoirs of Lucifer MorningStar) which made my poetic voice grow skin along with the bones. These poems serve up large portions that is the food and drink that nourished the tapestry to take root and grow. And if not for Kitten’s enchanting poem the beasties would have never come into being and the tapestry would remain as but a shadow in my fleeting thoughts. From Her did the Tapestry find a heart and for that the lovely Enchantress Kitten Courna will live in my memories till time ends and begins again…
Tinalouise has given to me the most precious gift that any writer can ever receive; she loves and enjoys reading the tapestry almost as much as I love and enjoy writing it. Tina’s a gifted poet (one of my favorites) as well as an experienced and respected freelance writer who became the tapestry’s most ardent fan. My cosmic tale appealed to her sensibilities and weaved its way into her heart: that is all that any writer can hope for- it’s like winning the lottery. Like Lilia, I consider Tina, a cyber-sister-a kindred spirit- and used her as a template of sorts for my character “The Archangel Domini Lucifina”-The Lady of the Light-for reasons that are transparent for those who’ve had read her poetry and comments on the writing site of Lit.Org. I’m a notoriously slow writer who writes at a snails pace and if left up to me I’d still be on chapter
Her unbridled enthusiasm for my work juiced up my writing bones and made me impose on myself a deadline of sorts for the release of each new chapter. When I wrote a new chapter it was her eyes that I hoped would read it first. Now if that’s not a Muse of the 1st Order then I might as well throw away my pen.
From Her did the Tapestry find a soul and for that the Beautiful and Graceful Tinalouise will always be a part of the dance that Is the Tapestry…
I’d be remiss if I didn’t include Charmr, Smithy, Lans, Darlene and Elizabeth (outstanding poets all) among those who have lifted me up by adding a little liquor to my juice from the constructive criticism and advice they have given me concerning the tapestry. They in a sense acted as a Greek chorus -a sounding board - that enabled me to fine tune what needed tuning. And if they looked with a fine eye they would find
a piece of themselves embedded in the weave…
In summing up the only thing I have left to say is: No Man’s an
PREFACE
I’ve been a student of mythology in most of its forms for the past thirty five years or so. Greek, Roman German and Norse Mythology as well as Fairy Tales of any sort were my first loves and remain so till his day. I became immersed in world religions and chose as a course of academic study: comparative religions. My main areas of interest were Jewish, Christian and Pagan Philosophy /Mythology and the Creation Myths that were conjured up by the priestly elite to ensnare, beguile, intoxicate and educate the unwashed populace. For me the broad brushstrokes between light and dark, as well as the tragic overtones in many of these creation stories and mythological histories, is what gave them their existential muscle and an allegorical validity( and for those who held faith over logic - a literal one) that baffled, enthralled and enriched the philosophically inquiring and God starved minds throughout the ages. My working novel, “The Tangled Tapestry” is my attempt to bring together many of the creation myths and fairy tales, (that have inspired and fueled my imagination) into one cohesive multi-layered weave; as conceived through the eyes of a borderline pagan and agnostic.
The who, what, where, and how of the origins, roots and meaning of GOD have always held a special fascination for me. Did we create GOD or did HE/SHE/IT create us? Does GOD exist, either as the Other or as Creator/Mother/Father/Son/Daughter or is IT/HE/SHE just a part of our God starved imaginations, something that we needed to create in order to feel special and not alone? Is GOD the Master Weaver who creates the fabric of the universe by peeling away bits and pieces of ITS being; spinning and weaving an intricate and exquisite tapestry of ITS own design and making: which so happens to be the story of Us and the Universe. The answers to these questions can only be answered through conjecture, subjective reasoning, imagination, and ones desire to explore and expound upon metaphysical improbabilities and impossibilities (while a small part within us {or at least myself} secretly hopes what was imagined and conjectured upon exists somewhere in those myriad streams of alternate realities) or by the faithful and hopeful; who are willing to jump off that cliff of logic by taking that leap of faith and landing head first into that deep well of magical thinking whereby God and The Gods do exist and that the heavens, demons, and angels await them.
For the purposes of my book I have painted and spun GOD as the Master Weaver/Dreamer/Artist and Primary Creator, as well as the Unknowable Other, while placing the Gods as Secondary Creators and shadow extensions of the Primary Force. This is indeed an arrogant undertaking best suited for God obsessed fools and writer poets with too much time on their hands and an over abundance of imagination. I confess to being one of those arrogant fools, (with an insane muse roaming around in my head) foolish enough to meet GOD head on and tell HIS/HER/ITS story and hoping that IT will find it amusing. If SHE/HE/IT doesn’t, I can always blame it on the devil and say shE made me do it…
till next time
bob
I no longer admin at Lit.org. What a relief- I found out that administrating sites is not good for creative purposes. I ran lit for two years and in that time I barely wrote. I was so worried about keeping the site alive and saying the right things that I didn't submit work. I also admin on another site but rarely showed my work there as a first posting. I always wrote on lit first- it was where I was most comfortable at. Moderating and administrating sucks if you want to write and express yourself. Words of warning-if you want to moderate -think twice- because it sucks. That's my little rant of the day
till next time
WRITING
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| © Robert Callaci Web address for this interview: http://www.whohub.com/rcallaci |
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