Stream of consciousness Association

[The Portrait of Zool]

Mmmmmm... It looks... Delicious!

[The Portrait of Zool]

"Are you coming to the picnic at the glade?" he asked.

 

"Oh yes," said Delicious Rabbit. "How could I ever be eaten if I wasn't there?"

 

"Oh, yes, of course," muttered the field mouse. "How indeed."

 

 

*At the glade, things went a little different...*

 

"Well hello Delicious Rabbit!" said the first man, "I must say you look delicious!"

 

"Do you think so?" asked the Delicious Rabbit, a little red around the whiskers.

 

"Oh yes - may I eat you now?"

 

"Perhaps later," said the rabbit as he swallowed the man whole. The field mouse gave a sharp squeak as he jumped clear back to the edge of the glade.

 

"Hello Delicious Rabbit," said the second man. "Has my friend arrived yet?"

 

"Perhaps later," said Delicious Rabbit as he swallowed the second man whole.

 

All was quiet this time.

 

The third man was just entering the glade and watched as the second man was devoured. "This is most unusual Delicious Rabbit," he said. "Aren't you feeling well?"

 

"I feel most delicious," replied the rabbit as he pounced on the third man, but the man was ready and put him on like a jacket. Helpless, Delicious Rabbit hung stylishly and comfortably.

 

"Is anyone else coming to the picnic?" called out the third man across the glade.

 

"Perhaps later," said the field mouse as he leaped up and swallowed the third man and Delicious Rabbit jacket whole.

 

 

[Mardrax]

... and the onion cried its eyes out.

Heaps of red matter lay on the cutting board.

The kitchen sink staining a light pink.

The fridge was open,

a long brownish tube hanging out.

The heart beat its last throbbing beat,

as the onion put the knife down and through.

 

A drop dripped into its left chamber.

 

"I told you to breathe through your mouth.",

the french maid Mrs. Jeanette exclaimed as she walked in.

Edited September 6, 2006 by Mardrax

[cryptomancer]

or dont breath through your mouth if you are under water, unless you have gills, but if you cry enough from onions to fill the room and put you under water it most likely is an allergy of some sort and should be looked at.

 

but, on a slightly different topic, breathing is fun in amber ponds,

for it enlivens the soul of those that belong,

 

[Mardrax]

Belong... belonging. Yes.

But to what cost?

The man who clings to his wife, even through all the bad things she unleashes.

Admirable. Yes.

But foolish?

 

Belonging... yes.

Two heavenly bodies.

First the moon; though scientists would have her encircle herself.

Granddaughter of earth and sky. Daughter of observation and sight. Sister of sun and dawn.

Leeching nemesis of the bald and disabled X.

 

Then her mother: sight; though could she have seen it coming?

(Last king of a later dismantling empire, though I don't think that matters much now,

Even though he led his people to their deaths on mountains far from whence they came,

defeated by one neither man nor woman, but a bedkeeper far from his home just the same.

Matthew, added up to thirty-one? ten-three? two-eleven?)

Would she have strayed so much if she could?

Could she have avoided, if she weren't that big?

She wasn't big enough to hold her own father with her. Not for long anyway.

Still, envy is no reason to hit us like that, even at such stellar magnitudes.

To hit your own mother like that.

She stayed with us though.

Do we belong?

I don't know.

I asked her once (would that be why she hit me?),

She's been circling around me since.

 

I guess it wasn't just the men who loved eachother,

though we were always the more aggressive type.

Edited September 8, 2006 by Mardrax

[cryptomancer]

Aggression aside it is merely the over exertion of a mind being controlled to finely by the body’s whimsical nature.

But though the pen is a weapon of formidable magnitude, I seem to feel the love of the blade balanced so keenly upon its handle long tang, giving life to mere metal. The blade sings only if its balance is perfect for the cut, the hold on your soul so keen as you wield it. It dances for your admiration, each step you take matched by the swing of death's kiss, cutting the body as the scythe of the Reaper takes the soul for you.

 

Immortality given by the shattering of the shell of mortals. Immortality, in torment or paradise, but free of mortal decay… vanquished in battle… it is a good death.

 

[cryptomancer]

COFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECO

FFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFF

EECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEE

COFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEE

 

[cryptomancer]

Caffeine is but a path to walk, that sums life in its clasp. It is not the avenue of enlightenment, it is neither a cause nor effect, it is simply the catalyst. It is the opening of eyes, it is the clarity of vision, it gives you the methods to look at yourself and see all you truely are. It tells you the story of the world. Motivation by aquisition, all I do, I do for caffeine.

 

Or is it caffeine?

 

Money is but a path to walk, that sums life in its clasp. It is not the avenue of enlightenment, it is neither a cause nor effect, it is simply the catalyst. It is the opening of eyes, it is the clarity of vision, it gives you the methods to look at yourself and see all you truely are. It tells you the story of the world. Motivation by aquisition, all I do, I do for money.

 

Or is it money?

 

Love is but a path to walk, that sums life in its clasp. It is not the avenue of enlightenment, it is neither a cause nor effect, it is simply the catalyst. It is the opening of eyes, it is the clarity of vision, it gives you the methods to look at yourself and see all you truely are. It tells you the story of the world. Motivation by aquisition, all I do, I do for Love.

 

Love it defined by many, denied by many, rejected by many, offered by many, accepted by many. It is more treasured than most things, more craved than the strongest drugs, more abundantly available than the leaves on the trees, and yet.......

 

Harder to find, than the rarest gem.

 

All I do, I do for Love.

Ever love, Everloved.

 

[Mynx]

Have you ever looked at someone and realised that, with but the fewest words, you could destroy their life forever?

The question that forms from that however is which is more of a threat -

The person who would make use of those words

Or the one who keeps them hidden. For now.

[cryptomancer]

*looks in mirror*

 

I can do it to myself.... does that count?

 

[cryptomancer]

A Raven in a tutu Dances in the the room throwing 'pixie dust (pepper) of inspiration' on everyone present.

 

 

Is it possible, (or plausible), that a stream of conciousness take the small boat of logical thought on a merry ride, throwing it about so it resembles a leaf in a tumble dryer, before washing it ashore in some distantly insane clime, infested with jungles of emotions and tangles of vice, choaking the virtue from the land. Dressing sweet logic, (in all its innocence), in the robes of animal hide, and adornments made of tooth and claw, making it resemble a savage of wild times and distant lands, and teaching it the tongue of madness, so it speaks in riddles and rhymes, letting the beads of its existance be woven in to the fabric of the land.

 

Would it make my insanity more logical, or merely make me logically insane?

 

[Mardrax]

Insanity and logicallity, when do those ever match up to inspiration?

To dislocation? To getting lost inside oneself and renouncing every claim to anything approaching being logical or sane, illogical or insane?

To move along that stream?

Banana-leaf boat carrying a midget.

Drops of perspiration and morning-thoughts collecting in its hollow,

mingling with the pools of dreams and visions.

Threatening to drown its miniature passenger.

 

The big question is: can we keep our heads above the water when we do? And will we need envisioned machettes to cut our way through the jungle if we do wash ashore?

Edited September 20, 2006 by Mardrax

[Mynx]

 

Edit: This is meant to be a picture of Jason Voorhees. I can't get it to reload but it worked when I first loaded it.

*sighs*

Damn it

Edited September 20, 2006 by Mynx

[cryptomancer]

Breath deep the watered air of thoughs, and share

The twisted vines of vice that form each loving snare,

Carve the path of processed thought to walk the jungle floor,

Share the sweet aroma of fear, at your daydreams door.

 

Chase the chaos creatures, loosed upon the mind,

Flee the thunder of the stars, as lightening and land collide,

Savour victory, win the chase, just to test your will,

Drink the cup of conquest won, as you skin and blood your kill.

 

Dream the stars of heaven spun, through the woven clouds,

Listen to the breeze wraped trees, in their dancing shrouds,

Watch the thought veils shimmer, as autumn turns them brown,

Let logic fall and form your bed, to sleep through winter sound.

 

[The Portrait of Zool]

Awesome Cryptoman! This should be reposted in the poetry forum, or linked in your folio.

[cryptomancer]

*looks at post*

 

*Scribbles notes on clipboard*

 

*flys to banquet room*

 

[Mardrax]

Banquet flying through the air

Foodstuffs thrown at dragon's wrath

All to save the maidens fair

Slaying wyrmkind through obesity

or was it

Just to scare your roommate?

in any case

Shawns, pipers, drummers

Providing the festive background

And a praise to raven's words

[The Portrait of Zool]

The princess took another bite of tea cake. A happy tune, banged out by a drum, flute, and lute, chimed in the background. Her dress creaked - straining at the seams. Tea-cake dribbled from her mouth and thick fingers onto the teetering stack of plates in front of her.

 

"Honestly," she said, lips smacking, "I couldn' eat another bite."

 

"Oh come on," said Cheives, her helpful manservant, as he held up the tiny mint. "It's waffer thin..."

 

(Kudos to Monty Python...)

[cryptomancer]

If you made a clock from the moon, would the seconds be counted by a luna tick?

 

[Wyvern]

Wyvern picks at his teeth with a rusty ninja star leftover from last Carnival's Pirate vs. Ninja arena, approaching the stream of consciousness with a cautious step. The lizard raises a brow as he watches the stream run its course adjacent to the Pen Keep, with several curves and bends making the coffee-susceptible water slosh about chaotically. The logic-bound banana leaf boats tied at the dock bob up and down to the varying currents, casting their shadows on a large stone dam labeled "Word Association Barrier - DO NOT REMOVE." The empty river dug-out on the other side of the dam looked as dry as Wyvern's bank account post-Almost Dragonic Brand Salt-E-Pops™ (guaranteed to get you feeling salty, or your money non-refunded).

 

"Naw, the moon'd definitely go digital. Just wouldn't be as accurate as the Sun, with the halves n' crescents n'all. Too much math." Wyvern steps past cryptomancer and stretches his neck to observe the stream in more detail, still not daring to get within three feet of the running water. He snorts to himself and tosses the ninja star to the side, then spits a loose piece of metal from his mouth and watches it skip once on the stream's surface. "Y'know, I don't get what ya folksss find so intriguing about this thing. I mean, sure the stream supposedly leads to the underground lair of the Pretty-Darn-Holy Grail, and sure it's rumored that the mud beneath contains bubbling chocolate worms... but, it's still water."

 

Wyvern twists his snout in as disgusted a grimace as he can muster and takes a few steps back. He almost steps on a field mouse scurrying across the stream's banks as he raises his snout to the sky and hiccups a smoke ring.

 

"I mean, fine, there're fans of mystic streams. But does it really deserve its own Association?" Wyvern sighs and slumps his shoulders, shaking his head. "I don't suppose there's any chance of draining it and replacing it with booze or chocolate or blood (I, for one, haven't forgotten the Pen's vampire population! And remember: if it ain't sickly good, it ain't Almost Dragonic Brand Type-O™)?"

 

Cryptomancer raises a hand to speak, but is interrupted as the field mouse suddenly hops out from of a tuft of weeds and leers.

 

"Perhaps later."

 

The mouse opens its mouth and pounces forward just as Wyvern slips over a patch of muddy hair shed by Akallabeth. The overgrown lizard's tail swings upward as he falls back, smacking the omnivorous field mouse in mid-leap and sending it flying. The mouse soars through the air until it lands mouth-first on the "Word Association Barrier" dam. Wyvern and cryptomancer gape as the mouse swallows the dam whole and inflates to approximately 187 times its regular size. They watch as the stream's currents suddenly shift in the direction of the Word Association wetlands, gawking as the waves somehow manage to carry the huge field mouse downstream.

 

"Well." Wyvern lifts himself with a grunt and wipes some mud from his horns. His beady eyes remain focused on the mouse as it drifts further and further towards the innocent land of one-word responses. "Thisss could get ugly."

 

;-)

 

OOC: To be continued.

[Savage Dragon]

Savage Dragon watches the river flow by from a high vantage point. Catching a glimpse of a vaguely canoe shaped shadow slip down the current, he is rewarded with an old memory of playing Red Rover with other scouts in canoes in the lake of a summer camp. Of course Red Rover was never meant to be played in the water with canoes, and they didn't really try to adapt the rules so much as scream out the name as they tried to topple each other with their oars.

 

ah those lazy summer dyas...

[The Portrait of Zool]

*Please forgive me, but for some odd reason the following stuck in my mind as I read the last few posts.*

 

 

On the first part of the journey

I was looking at all the life

There were plants and birds and rocks and things

There was sand and hills and rings

The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz

And the sky with no clouds

The heat was hot and the ground was dry

But the air was full of sound

 

I've been through the desert on a horse with no name

It felt good to be out of the rain

In the desert you can remember your name

'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain

La, la ...

 

After two days in the desert sun

My skin began to turn red

After three days in the desert fun

I was looking at a river bed

And the story it told of a river that flowed

Made me sad to think it was dead

 

You see I've been through the desert on a horse with no name

It felt good to be out of the rain

In the desert you can remember your name

'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain

La, la ...

 

After nine days I let the horse run free

'Cause the desert had turned to sea

There were plants and birds and rocks and things

There was sand and hills and rings

The ocean is a desert with it's life underground

And a perfect disguise above

Under the cities lies a heart made of ground

But the humans will give no love

 

You see I've been through the desert on a horse with no name

It felt good to be out of the rain

In the desert you can remember your name

'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain

La, la ...

 

A Horse with no Name ~ written by Dewey Bunnell, performed by America

[The Portrait of Zool]

He crept to the back of his lab, back where he kept his secrets, carefully feeling his way, as the lights had long since gone dark - had been dark far longer than they had been lit, he felt vaguely. He crept forward just until he felt the hair raise slightly on the back of his outstretched hand. It was still there, still functioning. He wasn't sure just what 'it' was anymore, but he often went back there to make sure it was still there, whatever it was. It gave him a feeling of relief, and distantly, a strange satisfaction. He knew it was dangerous to proceed further, to push into the electric field surrounding it, so did not go further. This time. Turning around, he left as quietly as he had come.

 

'Soon', he thought to himself with a half-smile. Soon.

[Savage Dragon]

experience had taught the old man that there was nothing could be kept secret anymore. Every time he tried to conceal a mistake or poor decision, the trees screamed of his lie and the rocks laughed at his poor attempt to hide his shame. Nature abhors a lie it appears, and she was always very attuned to what nature had to say. There was no doubt of it in his mind, she knew, every time she looked at him he could see the hurt his lie caused her.

 

damn this pride that caused him to lie in the first place...

[The Portrait of Zool]

"I was young..." said the old man simply, quietly, not quite pleading.

 

She did not look up. She said nothing.

 

He didn't know what else to say. It was no longer just a question of 'honesty', it had gone too far for that. After all this time, 'honesty' felt so... profoundly revealing - beyond that even... he felt that to tell the truth would be to throw himself away - to impale himself on the end of a stick, like a scrap of meat to be roasted over a fire. No more yearning, no more resistance, no more caring... no more pride.

 

In an unexpected feeling, every molecule of his body cried out to be with her again - and he also felt every molecule in her body cry out too. He looked at her, finding her eyes upon him, and for an eternal moment their eyes locked in some unfathomable mutual sharing. The feeling left him breathless, carrying him back decades, to when he had felt that once before, when he should have... but his pride had headed him off. Damn you Eldrich!

 

There she stood - radiant, mammalian, open, vulnerable... a goddess - it felt as though she had been sculpted by God within and without just for him (and so it could be), and there she stood again, now as then. Most people don't get a second chance, not even close, yet here they were, even after all this time. Fate can be so doggedly persistent.

 

But the gulf was too wide. He just couldn't do it - couldn't bring himself to make a move. He felt his breath catch, his whole being locked in impasse.

 

The shadow of a smirk crossed Eldrich's face as they stood there. Her face fell, collapsing into disappointment and despair. The old man's heart felt like it was caught in a vise.

 

It was too much. He caught her in his arms as she turned to run.