Rules
1. Never engage in betrayal
(slew of subrules defining what this constitutes, but if I encounter a new situation I will decide within 5 minutes whether this rule applys)
2. Serve your cause(s) to the best of your ability.
3. Do what is correct(not right or good) without regard to personal consequence. In each moment there is a correct action.
4. Love and sex are not the same thing. Sex(in all its forms) should always be in the service of love.
5. Respect the autonomy and ability of others. Never assume that they need help unless they ask for help.
6. If someone asks for help, do so as much as the other rules allow.
7. If betrayal occurs against you and yours(friends, family, tribe), the only rule that applies is #3.
Author: Pelgris
Stream of consciousness
I’ve always felt out of place
Like I didn’t fit
Pieces of me stick out at odd places and as a consequence I don’t fit in the world.
I’ve made a lifetime of not fitting
I stand alone, apart.
Conversations held, I don’t take to my logical conclusions because experience has taught me that others find those conclusions odd. And some can tell I’m holding back. Which most take as rejection. Which is hard since it is those with that intuitive sense that I can have a real conversation with.
My one major relationship… with a woman with whom I shared obsession with. It was what we could give each other but it was not love. A long time coming, that realization.
And so it is with every moment, turned about and about until intuition and logic tell my conscious mind each peice, until it is ready to become a part of my tapestry of experience.
I jut out at odd angles, looking for a place I fit, despairing that it won’t be found, and fearing that it will.
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Poem
Broken on the precipice of dawn
I stand waiting for you, forlorn hope lost to me.
Shattered but mending
broken anew as memories assault me. Slake my thirst on bitter dreams. Emerging from the settled surface from the unsettled depths.
I awaken renewed.
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Brothers by choice
I would in my heart fain love though in truth I know only emptiness, to have had love then lost is more bitter than to merely yearn for what one has never known.
And to drink this bitter draught while the brothers of my choice find what I have lost and sought leaves my heart more desolate.
For I should be joyful in their joy but often it is such that I summon a mask for the self and select a different face to the world.
Would that the way were more clear or perhaps merely my perception of it.
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Poem
Souls siphoned down the fallow earth
Flowing over depressions
Collecting
Forgotten pools reflecting a sullen sky
Dwindling from moment to moment
Shallowing
Clouds racing to the horizons edge
Growing between breathes
Emerging
Wind whipping into brazen lines
Mending order into chaos
Raging
Reflected light throwing shadows
Revealing secrets arcane
Drowning
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Asshole
I’m an asshole. I know it.
I let my indignation and admittedly large ego, run my tongue and fingers when logically I should keep my mouth shut. I let my emotions run me, when I’m not clamping down so hard on them I go numb. I retreat to those things I perceive as truth and assault everyone around me with them. I accept cultures and things held at a distance and I’m good at seeing nuances and subtleties, as long as it’s at a far enough remove.
The closer someone is the more poisonous I become. Except for those few in my inner circle whose goodwill I care about and even they are subjected to rants and horribly pointed and venomous retorts. Eventually, unless the person is extremely patient or gods forbid, genuinely likes me, I will drive them away.
Sometimes just because I can’t conceive of someone actually liking me, I’ll metaphorically shove the knife in. I won’t realize it consciously until later but subconsciously I knew what I was doing. And nine times out of ten I’m not sorry. Sure I lament the results, but what I said is true, if stated in the most hurtful way possible, and my ego and ethics won’t let me apologize for something I see as truth. I could go on and on. Welcome to my brain.
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Morning
I cast my words out wide
Dandelion seeds on the wind
Looking for fallow ground
Hoping someone will find them
Hoping they will nurture them
All my shattered choices, grief, pain and pleasure
Giving voice
Not one voice in the wilderness
A chorus, singing triumphantly
Arms raised feeling the warmth of the sun
The bite of the wind
One hundred percent alive
One moment of clarity
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Friendzone
I see them in your orbit
Spinning and unique
Each in their specialty
Providing laughter
An echo of self
Or validation
They dance in close
Back and out again
The tension keeps them spinning
Planetary bodies looking down
Stable orbits in the friendzone
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goth echoes
The garden is fallow and rotting in the shade of the ancient oak
Its branches reach for the hint of sun,
Streaming between the gaps of the forgotten building whose voices still ring out,
Sounds from the past trembling and mingling with things left unheard
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Naive
I’ve been struggling with how to say this without sounding naive but I don’t think there is one. In my internal voice, it seems reasonable but out loud I sound like a fool or a prig. I’ve probably seemed worse here, so enough preamble.
I believe that love is the only choice we get to make that matters. If the choice is love or anything else (except in cases where to persue love is a betrayal), then love is the choice. It may result in contention, depression, tears, anger and rage or it may not work at all. But the chance, should always be taken. Always jump off the cliff. Love may die from neglect, or be found to have not existed, but the opportunity to persue love should always be seized. Just don’t fall in love with love. See what is really there and don’t fall prey to obsession.
Pelgris 