Peredhil

The teenager hiding behind her layers of make-up, made-up, stake-out, wondering where the slavering jaws wait, shivering, hoping that the police wait, with silvered bullets, in allies, and not the thirsting beasts of night, under stars hidden behind garish nightlights, distant; The Moon shines through the city's veils of light.

The icorous gelid green legumes threw fine hairs into the black turgid brown waters. A fine algae formed a scummed cap on the living liquid.

Billy Shears danced the wild Fandango with the Walrus. They discussed the cosmic significance of Transcendental Zen as a way of life.

(Conversion Confusion, this is actually the second post) post more. I always enjoy reading your 'stuff.'

I KNOW he could. I get to hear them. Shakes his head at the deprived (and some-depraved) readers of the Pen.

Oh... YES!!! Laughs a tired maniacal laugh

Zool, you're STILL one of my favorite reads. I'm having trouble remembering a creative work of yours that I didn't think, "I wish I'd written something that creative/funny/good." Hugs Keep 'em coming, Big Guy.

Appearances can be so deceiving It's easiest to manipulate what others are perceiving because they want so badly to be believing In something or someone good. But truth will out over time And as you said in your rhyme They'll pay their due for their crime. That's just understood. Good song there.

Some people got Monday off? sighs I wouldn't get too hung up on it. The difference between the secular, religion, and Christianity is often blurred, specially to the advantage of individuals. An intelligent person can rationalize anything.

Peredhil reads the varied travelling meter, and lets the words carry him through the journey. Your Pory, err, Stoem, ummm, your thingie that started this thread - I like it.

Ozy', Staying awake for seven straight days playing Role Playing games can give somewhat the same effect. Or driving for four days straight blasting strange musical mixtures. Or at least, they did for me.

Cyril Darkcloud Viewer (3/27/02 2:27:10 pm) Reply words receding into silence -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The pages of the notebook are blank and his hand trembles slightly as he reaches for his pen. Soon, perhaps, he will write and the expressiveness of his life will place words within the field of possibility these blank pages hold open before him. Writing, he thinks, is nothing other than the placing of words into space. Yes, he nods, without space to receive one’s words there can be no writing, even if the words of one’s writing somehow change the space which receives and holds them. There must be space – the spaces within one’s own life which allow the speaking of what has been unsaid, the physical blankness of these pages and that most important of all spaces, the possibility of an openness within another’s life to the reading of these words. Slowly he draws in his breath, savoring the lingering bite of winter in the air, and, exhaling softly, begins to place words upon the pages. There are spaces between the words he writes, spaces of both physical distance and the temporal span between the following of one word upon the next, spaces within which his own expressiveness will wait for those who read. He carefully removes the page from his notebook and, moving quickly, steps into the empty office. He stands silent and still, slowly reading the words he has written: Silence is the ground of speech. Words rise abruptly out of the unspoken, strike the ear, the heart, the very air that fills the space between two lives, and fall abruptly into the silence of a new unspoken. Tongues become clumsy in silence, heavy with the punctuated movements of breathing turned to words grown strangely small and lost. Silence is the place of the lisping after the grammar of speaking. Speaking is the emptying of grammar into silence. He recedes from view as he reads, his presence pouring into the gaps between words and ideas. Soon there is no sign of his presence remaining in this room save the single leaf of paper bearing his handwritten words and the spaces between them within which he shall wait to hear the speaking made possible by the strange grammar that obtains between writer and reader. The handwritten page drifts in slow silence to the floor, landing with its interplay of words and spaces facing upward. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- NEW POST Archive Note The original post was made by someone who was not registered. As a result the parser messed up when converting. Their post appears above, followed by the next available post here: peredhil31 An Ancient Polite Bard Posts: 1001 (3/27/02 4:09:03 pm) Reply ezSupporter Silence giving birth to words -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mere black and white Small puffs of air You've created someone I swear is there. Brilliant.

Peredhil hugs Judicator hard. 'Bout time! Welcome back!

Doctor, you are indeed Evil. I'm aloving it suddenly. 1. Zool is the reason I posted anything at the UBB. I'd posted a comment in Ozymandias' "Upside-down Crosses" thread, and he and I struck up an e-conversation. Then he threatened to never email me again if I didn't start posting some of my comments, poems, or stories. The threat of a life without Zool was enough to overcome my own valuation of my skill, and I posted... And here we are. Thanks Buddy, Your Friend Always, Elrond Peredhil, 31 Bard of Terra Ancient of the Pen

Goes to write a response, and finds Yui-chan has said what he wanted to say - in verse and better than he would've. Goes to give a Polite Hug, and finds Lord Gyrfalcon has consoled her already. You know, I'm suddenly feeling better about my lack of time. Y'all are wonderfully supportive people. You make me proud. Hugs her hard anyway, because he cares.

Oh... just. just. NEAT!

Peredhil notes that not everyone finds RolePlaying easy, nor writing a breeze. Looking at the Banquet Hall, I THINK there's still a place for poets, but I leave things like that to the Elders, particularly the Elder of Initiates. I liked the poem though.

Peredhil looks very confused. You're not a Saberhagen Vampire. You're not a D&D, AD&D, FARS, GURPS, Runequest, DragonQuest, Arduin Grimoire, Chivalry & Sorcery Vampire. Would you be a Vampire based on the Anne Rice novels? Since I haven't read/played those, that would explain why I don't recognize many of your points. I'm probably most familiar of course with the FARS Vampires, which are markedly different than what you describe. Muses a while on Roz with a whimsical smile. They at least, can't claim to live longer than anyone, being undead, and therefore suspended between death and life, neither one nor the other. Perhaps both sides in this discussion are drawing from different worlds? Looks at his watch and scampers away.

When confronting childhood distortions, I suggest using the eyes of those who love you for mirrors, instead of silvered pieces of glass. The glass only reflects your perception. A loving friend reflects you accurately, while loving you none the less. *hugs*

Peredhil hugs tLotG. That was a really well-written, well-thought out parody! It echoed established works (the Bible, the duel with Ronstar, etc) and wove them together into something new. Clever and fun reading. Of course, you're going to Hell for this...

Ouch. rummages through his things and finds an extra t-shirt labelled, "I love you enough to want what you want for you" on the front, and "Although I want you to want me" on the back, and gives it to her. You're a true friend...

LOL! Peredhil reads through with enjoyments many. Watch out for Dr. Lithium, he'll poison you in a minute.

Nice Poems... I rather liked them. Could I request that people keep the raw Real Life issues OFF the boards? They detract from the grandeur of the art being presented here, in my opinion. I realize some people find art in life, but I prefer it one step removed myself, filtered through a poem, song, story or Role-Played Character. It's just... crass I think is the word, to bleed Real Life over the boards. That would be more delicately done in emails, with Courtesy Copies to all parties if a broader audience is required. Peredhil bows Politely and is *POOF* gone again.

Peredhi apologizes for inviting Porcelain to the Pen... and then disappearing! Powerfully said. In my opinion, letting your value lie in the eyes of another, letting them validate your worth, is always a trap. You are a unique valuable individual in and of yourself. Much of your beauty can never be lost, except to you - your creativity, your intelligence, your attitude, your ability to endure and overcome. Physical is transient; what's inside we carry with us through life. I wrote a comment on some of your other poems in the Critic's Corner. I'll try to catch up on my reading and write some more then. Again welcome to the Pen! You have a great deal to say about the pain of life, and how to overcome it and triumph. Hugs. Peredhil

"Why can't weee be friends" Politely joins hands, singing, "Why can't we be friends..."