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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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Posted

Cyril Darkcloud

Viewer

(3/27/02 2:27:10 pm)

Reply words receding into silence

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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.

 

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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

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Mere black and white

Small puffs of air

You've created someone

I swear is there.

 

Brilliant.

Posted

Cyril Darkcloud patiently waits in the messy office for the Elder of Initiates, his presence now having completely faded into the gaps of knowledge... The applicant silently watches from his space hidden in the mental void as Melba enters the room with a small duster and vacuum, and cringes as he notices that she's about to clean the floor. As the Pen application he had written up was currently laying on the ground of the office, it was in danger of being vacuumed and destroyed! Fortunatly, Cyril manages to save the app just in the nick of time by projecting it upwards by with free association thinking (the realm of thought equivalent of a gust of wind). The beautifully written application soars into the air, flying directly past Melba's face and giving her a subtle paper cut, only to land on top of Wyvern's desk and achieving safety... Cyril lets out a sigh of relief as his plan succeeds...

 

The almost secretary's cleaning is suddenly interrupted as the doors of the Recruitment Office are slammed open and a very stressed looking Wyvern bursts in, followed by a flood of hundreds of news reporters and business men. Melba slaps her forehead, mumbling "Good grief...", and follows "Wyvern scheme safety procedure #4", quickly hiding her face with a blank sheet of paper and ducking under Wyv's desk in order to avoid having her picture taken by the news rats. Wyv is about to speak up when several reporters shove microphones into his face and begin flooding him with questions:

 

"Mr. Wyvern, what is your stance on the recent tax-"

 

"Mr. Almost Dragon, why did your latest scheme fai-"

 

"Mr. Wyvern, is it true that you've signed your life on a contract?"

 

The crowd is suddenly silenced by this statement, and the overgrown lizard curses loudly to himself. This was exactly the question he had hoped not to be asked...

 

"Errrrr..." stutters Wyvern nervously "No comment..."

 

Noticing that Wyvern appears to be in a rather difficult situation, Cyril decides to take action and assure the acceptance of his Pen application (he had heard that the Elder of Initiates took to bribes well ;p). Quickly hopping on a train of thought that is rapidly passing by, Cyril swiftly extends a hand out of the mental void and grabs Wyvern, pulling the overgrown lizard into the empty space with him. The news reporters and business men gasp as Wyvern suddenly vanishes into nothingness, and begin quickly scanning the room and preparing their cameras...

 

As soon as they've gotten a safe distance away, Cyril drops Wyv off the train of thought and hops off himself. The overgrown lizard thanks Cyril gleefully and hands him his application with a big fat 'ACCEPTED' stamped on it.

 

 

OOC: An excellent application Cyril, definatly ACCEPTED! I vastly enjoyed your poetry, philosophical ponderings, and role playing, and am looking forward to seeing more posts by you! Welcome... If you could post your e-mail here or send me one at elitwack90@hotmail.com, I'll send you the password info and such.

 

P.S: Also, be sure to create a local or global EZboard account for the site, if you don't already have one. If you don't have one yet, you can find a link to creating one in the "List of Usefull Links", located in the Lists of Terra section.

 

 

[image]http://members.shaw.ca/kea/am/wyvy.jpg[/image]

 

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Almost a Dragon...

"My life is one big crime, I try to scheme through it." -Common, "The 6th Sense"

 

Owner of the Decanter of Endless Booze.

Edited by: Wyvern00  at: 3/29/02 9:01:09 pm

  • 4 weeks later...
Posted

First words so often

are distant words --

words plucked with haste from the seams of life,

the stammering edges of event and feeling

that do not quite meet in thought --

reluctant harvest of the separation

of life from self

and life from life,

and the unprotected heralds

of cities whose location

only further speaking might disclose.

 

 

My apologies for not having sooner expressed my gratitude for the very kind words and the welcome with which my application was received. Your first words to me have certainly made it much easier to begin getting to know the members of the community elsewhere on the boards.

 

Once again, my thanks.

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