#torisen - Hello Poetry

She has drifted on in Invading your dreams Or you hers As you have both Since you were young Images and thoughts colliding A closeness of souls Which is hard to tell apart Finding that she is you And you are her Yet also neither is true Terrifying notions all And the most frightening Is that you drifted on in

0

Nov 18, 2017

Nov 18, 2017 at 4:38 PM UTC

aondeug

Drifting

She has drifted on in Invading your dreams Or you hers As you have both Since you were young Images and thoughts colliding A closeness of souls Which is hard to tell apart Finding that she is you And you are her Yet also neither is true Terrifying notions all And the most frightening Is that you drifted on in

14

The appeal is in what I lack. Her hardness, her coldness, That fierce lack of care, Brashly charging in And tearing apart to aid. All which I look to Saying with awe, “Now that’s strength,” While ignoring my own, Because the appeal is that which I lack.

0

Nov 18, 2017

Nov 18, 2017 at 4:37 PM UTC

aondeug

Appeal

The appeal is in what I lack. Her hardness, her coldness, That fierce lack of care, Brashly charging in And tearing apart to aid. All which I look to Saying with awe, “Now that’s strength,” While ignoring my own, Because the appeal is that which I lack.

9

What is honor really? There are Six Acts Neatly laid out And clear as day, But what is life really? He ran away, Tossing his soul to the floor To take up their mantle. The Jedi’s, But not lightly. You were thrown In a rage, Neck almost snapped. A shock, But not unprovoked. What is honor really? Is it the Third Act? To protect family, Or maybe the Fifth Of clan wellbeing? You stayed behind Rejecting the Order outright To maintain the Lessons. Your father’s, And so resolutely. He was shot. Your father ran out To cover a mistake. Yours, And so fatal. What is honor really? Is it the First Act? Taking up arms And living martially, Mistakes or no? You say it is him, Your soulless brother Wearing armor of his own. He says it is you, The soul-filled sister Carrying all her guilt.

0

Nov 18, 2017

Nov 18, 2017 at 4:32 PM UTC

aondeug

What is honor?

What is honor really? There are Six Acts Neatly laid out And clear as day, But what is life really? He ran away, Tossing his soul to the floor To take up their mantle. The Jedi’s, But not lightly. You were thrown In a rage, Neck almost snapped. A shock, But not unprovoked. What is honor really? Is it the Third Act? To protect family, Or maybe the Fifth Of clan wellbeing? You stayed behind Rejecting the Order outright To maintain the Lessons. Your father’s, And so resolutely. He was shot. Your father ran out To cover a mistake. Yours, And so fatal. What is honor really? Is it the First Act? Taking up arms And living martially, Mistakes or no? You say it is him, Your soulless brother Wearing armor of his own. He says it is you, The soul-filled sister Carrying all her guilt.

41

A contract was made And had to be fulfilled. Just a limited term No more than a test. A “perhaps” was given, And a firm “no children now” Which set the nerves at ease. They rise up now, Tingling, clawing, burning, All over a dinner. It is just a meal, Simple, short. Pretty little dishes Just like pretty little words. Yet there are the nerves rising. A cup is held But not yet drank from. She asks of this, Provides loving assurances And gives a laugh too. “It’s just wine, silly.” Yes, just wine, and no more. So a sip is taken, Then more still And with the wine The nerves are drowned. The death is gradual Slow and almost imperceptible, A pleasant buzzing numbness Building up overagreeably. The guard, normally so zealous, Lays broken and torn down. The nerves are not missed. She is far too close, With a voice far too sweet. The words aren’t parsed But they captivate wholly, And the gentle touches too Cloying, confusing Edging the affair on Far past the simple contract. Yet the nerves are still dead. Only a hand rouses them And other things too, Sliding down far too far. Limbs are weak, and wits too To weak to provide a fight Though one is wanted As the nerves are born anew.

0

Nov 17, 2017

Nov 17, 2017 at 3:38 PM UTC

aondeug

Nerves

A contract was made And had to be fulfilled. Just a limited term No more than a test. A “perhaps” was given, And a firm “no children now” Which set the nerves at ease. They rise up now, Tingling, clawing, burning, All over a dinner. It is just a meal, Simple, short. Pretty little dishes Just like pretty little words. Yet there are the nerves rising. A cup is held But not yet drank from. She asks of this, Provides loving assurances And gives a laugh too. “It’s just wine, silly.” Yes, just wine, and no more. So a sip is taken, Then more still And with the wine The nerves are drowned. The death is gradual Slow and almost imperceptible, A pleasant buzzing numbness Building up overagreeably. The guard, normally so zealous, Lays broken and torn down. The nerves are not missed. She is far too close, With a voice far too sweet. The words aren’t parsed But they captivate wholly, And the gentle touches too Cloying, confusing Edging the affair on Far past the simple contract. Yet the nerves are still dead. Only a hand rouses them And other things too, Sliding down far too far. Limbs are weak, and wits too To weak to provide a fight Though one is wanted As the nerves are born anew.

49

Honor the contract Created from need Ne'erdoweel or no Never fail it Inside the room Ready for talk Timid words falling Feast growing cold Consort smiling slyly Serving a drink Denying all harm Heeding him on Only a sip Sampling the wine Warily quenching thirst Theories crumpling fully Fear takes rest Realing now swaying Swearing it’s fine Fog filling head Honor the contract Coy hands searching Slipping down cloth Creeping ever near No resistance given Grunts of perplexion Shying away slowly Slightly fearing her Hands find purchase Pulling away fabric Fraying nerves burn But no strength Staring with wonderment Wanting yet not Nowhere to run Relishment of terror Taking by force Forged with poison Poured into drink Damning him totally To honor it

0

Nov 17, 2017

Nov 17, 2017 at 3:37 PM UTC

aondeug

Contracts

Honor the contract Created from need Ne'erdoweel or no Never fail it Inside the room Ready for talk Timid words falling Feast growing cold Consort smiling slyly Serving a drink Denying all harm Heeding him on Only a sip Sampling the wine Warily quenching thirst Theories crumpling fully Fear takes rest Realing now swaying Swearing it’s fine Fog filling head Honor the contract Coy hands searching Slipping down cloth Creeping ever near No resistance given Grunts of perplexion Shying away slowly Slightly fearing her Hands find purchase Pulling away fabric Fraying nerves burn But no strength Staring with wonderment Wanting yet not Nowhere to run Relishment of terror Taking by force Forged with poison Poured into drink Damning him totally To honor it

41

The blade’s light Lifting’s no feat Fiery sword cutting Carving through transparisteel Steady hand needed Never cutting fatally For the Code. The blade’s heavy Hard to swing Swearing while hefting Till it falls Filling the room red Retching, staring, wondering Warping the Code.

0

Nov 17, 2017

Nov 17, 2017 at 3:34 PM UTC

aondeug

Keep to the Code

The blade’s light Lifting’s no feat Fiery sword cutting Carving through transparisteel Steady hand needed Never cutting fatally For the Code. The blade’s heavy Hard to swing Swearing while hefting Till it falls Filling the room red Retching, staring, wondering Warping the Code.

14

She’s gelded you, boy That familiar cry Runs through your mind Insistently weaving in Tainting your mood always Souring your disposition So that you, even you Who is so patient Slams down a cup Losing your tolerance With him, your cousin And still she has broken you She has and she steals Pries away your men and women Breaking your hold Attacking your character All that you are Brier Iron-thorn, a name lost A name stolen by her And she has gelded you, boy But you, no longer so patient You wrote a note And now you wait Your raving barely contained I am not gelded, Father

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Nov 16, 2017

Nov 16, 2017 at 1:39 PM UTC

aondeug

Non-castration

She’s gelded you, boy That familiar cry Runs through your mind Insistently weaving in Tainting your mood always Souring your disposition So that you, even you Who is so patient Slams down a cup Losing your tolerance With him, your cousin And still she has broken you She has and she steals Pries away your men and women Breaking your hold Attacking your character All that you are Brier Iron-thorn, a name lost A name stolen by her And she has gelded you, boy But you, no longer so patient You wrote a note And now you wait Your raving barely contained I am not gelded, Father

25

Blood boiling Heart pounding Burgeoning rage Only barely contained Hidden behind that door That door upon which Rests your hand Faltering, failing Open me, open me Shouts your mind Open me, open me Scream your hands Aching, burning Pained by a need To act, to bring about Self-destruction so near An end to anxiety Setting it all out To be overtaken A wave of hate rushing Over you, over all Dark, dark Full of hate A raving madman Who shouts even now Open it, open it And as you slink away Screams even now Coward, coward

0

Nov 16, 2017

Nov 16, 2017 at 1:37 PM UTC

aondeug

Your Hands

Blood boiling Heart pounding Burgeoning rage Only barely contained Hidden behind that door That door upon which Rests your hand Faltering, failing Open me, open me Shouts your mind Open me, open me Scream your hands Aching, burning Pained by a need To act, to bring about Self-destruction so near An end to anxiety Setting it all out To be overtaken A wave of hate rushing Over you, over all Dark, dark Full of hate A raving madman Who shouts even now Open it, open it And as you slink away Screams even now Coward, coward

29

Hail Torrigon-Incarnate The Face of Birth as It Dreams Highlord, Knorth Lord The Black-Lord, Wolf-Friend Nurturer and guardian, Father in Spirit Hold us close and comfort us Raise our spirits Lead our souls And walk with us Heal our wounds and keep us wary Of our foes and ourselves But most of all nurture us The Knorth Torisen, One of the Three

0

Nov 15, 2017

Nov 15, 2017 at 12:11 PM UTC

aondeug

Torrigon

Hail Torrigon-Incarnate The Face of Birth as It Dreams Highlord, Knorth Lord The Black-Lord, Wolf-Friend Nurturer and guardian, Father in Spirit Hold us close and comfort us Raise our spirits Lead our souls And walk with us Heal our wounds and keep us wary Of our foes and ourselves But most of all nurture us The Knorth Torisen, One of the Three

13

She is ruining you Ensnaring you just as warned Looking on at you At your hands fondly, wantonly Regarding you well Teasing and poking and prodding Yet also caring Though not often The hug has ruined you, And the kiss too. Who kissed who? Why do you not care? Where is your fear? Oh. There it is.

0

Nov 15, 2017

Nov 15, 2017 at 12:04 PM UTC

aondeug

Where

She is ruining you Ensnaring you just as warned Looking on at you At your hands fondly, wantonly Regarding you well Teasing and poking and prodding Yet also caring Though not often The hug has ruined you, And the kiss too. Who kissed who? Why do you not care? Where is your fear? Oh. There it is.

15

What is strength? You’re not quite sure. Father taught it to be hardness, Unyielding fear and distrust, Screeching, scrabbling, striking out All love crushed before it spreads. She teaches it to be rebellion, Standing up in the face of all, Tearing down walls, breaking up bones A resounding no and a fierce affirmation. Experience taught it to be lacking, Lost and nowhere to be found In the possession of others With you always groping about. Where is strength? You’re not quite sure.

0

Nov 15, 2017

Nov 15, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC

aondeug

Strengths

What is strength? You’re not quite sure. Father taught it to be hardness, Unyielding fear and distrust, Screeching, scrabbling, striking out All love crushed before it spreads. She teaches it to be rebellion, Standing up in the face of all, Tearing down walls, breaking up bones A resounding no and a fierce affirmation. Experience taught it to be lacking, Lost and nowhere to be found In the possession of others With you always groping about. Where is strength? You’re not quite sure.

16

Where do you walk? down those same hallways old, haunted ringing with the madman’s voice the bolt is shot the door locked yet he marches on screaming, shouting the door does not open but you cannot bear it Why do you walk?

0

Nov 15, 2017

Nov 15, 2017 at 12:02 PM UTC

aondeug

Halls

Where do you walk? down those same hallways old, haunted ringing with the madman’s voice the bolt is shot the door locked yet he marches on screaming, shouting the door does not open but you cannot bear it Why do you walk?

11