Hi there,
Having been conned by Astrid into putting these scriblings of mine on display, I thought I might as well write some form of introduction along with a few notes and comments for some of the individual poems (where they would be appropriate). Let me begin by saying that all of these were written over the last two and a half years and are closely related to the trials and tribulations of my character Dorian in Astrid's Black Unicorn Campaign. Some are written directly from Dorian's point of view, while others express my own perspective as a player, although this isn't always necessary so clear-cut (sometimes it's hard to determine where Dorian ends and I begin, but never mind about that). Those of you who have been following Dorian's adventures in the diaries may recognize a few allusions to specific events or people, while other poems express more general sentiments; yet I hope that they will at least be entertaining to all who read them. I've selected all the poems presented here from the total body of poetry I've written so far (which is nearly twice as large) with an eye for some enduring quality in them, but since I am probably quite biased about my own work, some things may have slipped through that are too sentimental or trite. Should you think this to be the case, let me apologise for them right away: it was never my intention to offend or to bore people to death. But then, no one is forcing you to read these, are they? If some of you do like what you read (or really hate it for that matter) and feel you want to comment on it, please send Astrid a line and she'll pass any criticism and/or praise on to me. There, I think that about covers it. Enjoy.
Jan Pieter
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This was actually the fifth poem I'd written, but since I don't date my poetry I can only guess about this one. I know I was working on it during a session, and considering the content it must have been immediately following upon Alexander's damaging of Corwin's Pattern and stabbing of his brother Adrian. The poem doesn't represent either one's opinion of the other, but more these opinions as Dorian would believe them to be. Although the brothers still hate each other's guts, things have certainly changed since then: what was once black and white is now a uniform grey...
Heads or Tails
I flip a coin up high, see how it lands:
The face it shows will tell you where he stands.
Heads: I win
My brother dear, why so surprised?
Oh fie, come put that sword away!
Yeah, sure, I was the one who iced
You nearly, only yesterday.
Such trifles ought not stand between
The grander schemes for which we fight;
You know things are not what they seem,
One never knows which side is right.
The things I did I do regret,
The only course that I could take;
A killing move seemed my best bet,
It might have been my sole mistake.
But now you know how far I'll go
To reach my purpose, little bro.
Tails: you lose
My brother dear, surprised indeed.
The gall you have to show your face!
Oh fie, it was a bloody deed
That left me dying in that place.
A trifle only do you say?
You know you're talking 'bout my life?
This is no game for you to play,
There's only blood here in this strife.
You say you've feelings of remorse?
Forgive me, I don't quite believe;
The glib words to describe your course
Are only practised to deceive.
I'll have my way, this I do swear,
So brother dear, you'd best beware.
Two sides of the same coin
Whatever face the upper one will be,
His counterpart he's never bound to see.
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Yes, I still like this. Most of the earlier poems are in the form of sonnets, and this is one that best blends the form with the content. The ball is of course the event at which Monias was supposed to select a bride.
The Ball
To lose oneself within this crowd,
Chaotic swirling mass of men,
Would be an easy thing, no doubt.
The madness draws us closer, then
Some kind of order is restored
With protocol and dancing lines;
The patterns in which points are scored
When court with courtly intertwines.
And in the centre sole he stands,
The nexus of this revelry;
They all proclaim to be his friends
For fear of one more enemy.
Thus Nexus, Pattern, Chaos, all
Do dance and hold the world in thrall.
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The next four poems are still dealing with the same festivities in Galoria, but on a more personal level. Figure out for yourselves who all the characters are supposed to be.
Lovers at the Ball (I)
The sea around, so cold it grows!
Like flotsam drifting with the tide,
I cannot fight relentless flows
That ever more the gap make wide.
A different captain now appears
With map in hand, the Queen's cruel gift.
With bawdy face and hand on spear
He works against the tidal drift.
Soon others too will find their way,
The single ships will turn to fleets;
While I among the driftwood stay,
Your harbour every sailor greets.
Until that future moment when
The tide will let us meet again.
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Lovers at the Ball (II)
Oh, what a hypocrite am I,
Bewailing loneliness and cold,
Expressing woe with every sigh,
While your side still remains untold.
For you like me are all adrift,
No terra firma underneath
Your feet at all; the tides are swift,
Their currents only bring you grief.
The captain, bawdy though he be,
Does save you, drowning castaway;
He'll take you far away from me
To firmer ground by friendly bay.
And so like you I too must find
A passing ship with captain kind.
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Lovers at the Ball (III)
My cousin, captain, conqueror
Flies swiftly off with sails on high.
He gladly claims the treasure for
His own; he lets his colours fly.
Still further then I drift from him,
My limbs grow numb here in this sea;
This icy cold, I cannot swim.
The washing water drowns my plea.
Cool shimmers light across my face:
A mermaid mistress of the deep,
She draws me nearer to her place
Of power; there will be no sleep.
Will I then drown? I do not know.
Or merely drink her love below?
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Lovers at the Ball (IV)
Her hair in shades of blue and white,
Her body cool, her love quite warm;
Our passion is our guiding light,
The fire feeds upon the charm.
We shape our love in every way
That nature does allow and more.
In ecstacy we both will sway
And quietly we'll drift ashore.
She drives all thoughts of oceans deep
Clear from my mind. I will forget
Feelings of cold, gone with one sweep;
Her kindness burns within me yet.
With love expressed in roses blue
Kept safe in deep sea Xanadu.
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There is this recurring nihilistic side to Dorian's character that seemed to echo uncannily in Charles's tale of his son Alan's suicide. One of the more moving poems, I think.
Alan
Could you not bear it? Loneliness;
The knowledge you would stay alive,
While all around you time's caress
You of companions would deprive.
Was it so dreadful then to live
And breathe not knowing how or why?
Was there no reason he could give
Inspiring you at least to try?
You chose your own fate, now you rest
Some six feet down and miles from home;
Futility of life expressed
For all of us who here still roam.
What difference would the truth have made?
We'll never know; we came too late.
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Both as a player and gamemaster I have this fascination with Tir-na Nogt'h and all its visions of will-be's, would-be's, could-be's, and should-be's. And like the last lines say, you never really know what to make of the things you've seen up there.
Night in the City
The silver speaks too much I feel,
The visions swirl and thus confuse.
No telling which will turn out real
And which are nothing but a ruse.
It overwhelms, it comes too fast,
And then is gone, all in a blink;
Each image stranger than the last.
There's just no time for me to think.
I can't stop to consider, though;
I must go on, the end is near.
The neverending argent show
Turns pale and fades when daylight's here.
With feet back safely on the ground,
Still not content with what I've found.
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Does humour belong in poetry (to paraphrase Frank Zappa)? I think so, at least. The downside of Good Stuff is that you're always the first person they try to recruit if they need some assistance. Believe me, I know...
Don't Give Me Your Problems!
No, don't tell me, I just don't care!
Your trouble's no concern of mine.
Do not involve me, don't you dare!
Your way and mine don't intertwine.
I just won't hear you: blah, blah, blah!
Just talk and talk as much you want;
I'll shrug and smile and laugh: ha-ha!
But help you, dear? You know I can't.
It's not that I don't sympathise,
But I've got problems of my own,
Too many; you must realise
You'd better solve this thing alone.
Okay, what's wrong? But make it short.
I'll see how I can lend support.
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Warm and fuzzy and probably very self-indulgent. Skip if you're more interested in heartbreak and angst.
Children
So there they lie,
Their soft warm bodies huddled close;
Their happiness in dreaming knows
No greater love than I.
Then Nicholas
Awakes with curiosity;
He bounces round, finds rest with me,
Best pillow that he has.
Black Laura leaps,
Inquisitive and fierce with pride;
Aggressive will won't be denied,
Her green eyes burning deep.
Young Dennis joins
His sister on her prowling path;
The grey and black flash by in wrath,
Exchange of quarrel's coins.
Rowena sits
Aloof of coarser siblings' play,
For fear of fur stays out of fray,
Behaves as her befits.
Oh, Vilcon dear,
No need for being shy, but guard
From danger, find within your heart
A middle road to steer.
And finally,
My Miri, precious little one,
So frail, a life that's just begun,
Find shelter here with me.
Six children mine,
To teach and guide and watch them grow;
More joy than I could ever know
These kittens here combine.
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Marking the first deterioration in the friendship between Dorian and Adrian. And things went downhill from then on.
Fragility of Promises
You twist and turn, still lost in doubt,
Unsure of what to do or say;
My reasoning has caught you out,
The falsehood will not go away.
The truth you shroud in silence deep,
Apologies come rapidly,
This talk of promises to keep,
Forsooth, that won't suffice for me.
What of the promises we made?
What of the trust beyond all trust?
As usual, in this charade
Our words seem nothing more than dust.
Although I kept some things from you,
I'm shocked to find you did so too.
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This may be one of the vaguest of the lot if you don't know the context. It refers to the second part of diary 37, in which Random tried to get most of the younger generation to cooperate and coordinate their efforts in the Courts of Chaos. Dorian really felt that he didn't have anything to contribute, and since his own investigations had to do with the Curse he couldn't ask anyone for help either, so the meeting was a rather frustrating waste of time for him. Out of that frustration this poem emerged.
Fleet Manoeuvres
Ships fill the vast wide open sea,
All answer to the call to arms.
Salt breezes flutter banners free,
The ebb and flow of silty charms.
Fleet admiral holds his council here
With charted maps and battle lines;
The sketch but rough, fine points unclear,
Leaves details to our own designs.
Plans all drawn up the captains try
To outwit any enemy.
Small fleets are formed and hither fly
To danger and uncertainty.
My ship, it lingers and then trails,
And different breezes fill my sails.
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Something vaguely ballad-like. A light form for a serious subject.
As I in Shadow walked One Day
As I in Shadow walked one day
A woman in the road there lay,
All tired and frail,
Her face quite pale;
As I in Shadow walked one day.
"What brings you here so on your own?
You shouldn't travel all alone;
The weather's cold
And you're quite old
What brings you here so on your own?"
"I go to Amber's mighty keep,
Its golden walls, its towers steep;
Its beauty crowned
Is quite renowned;
I go to Amber's mighty keep.
But sadly, though, the road's too long,
I fear that I am not that strong,
I shall not reach
That white-shelled beach,
For sadly, though, the road's too long.
Please tell my sister what I say:
I never meant my words that way;
The voices said
What road to tread,
Please tell my sister what I say."
I barely caught her in her fall,
She handed me a parcel small
And slumped ahead,
At once quite dead,
I barely caught her in her fall.
I found a spot and by and by
I dug a grave for her to lie;
Strange lady dear,
Sweet rest ye here;
I found a spot and by and by.
As I in Shadow walked one day
I found a mystery on my way,
The sister wept,
Two Trumps I kept,
As I in Shadow walked one day.
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Yes, I mainly used to do sonnets. And then this one came along. Impressionistic and ideosyncratic. For those of you who are wondering what it's all about, try comparing it to diary 44.
Impressions - The Courts in Chaos
razor slicing
thinner still
worlds apart
form a close shave
no interference?
readings are odder
less glory in here
decay reigns supreme
wounded lady
flesh crawls
closing the gap
making ends meet
master builder
cool hand on brow
second one warmer
builds flesh and bone
no interference!
Balance upset
lady in contact
takes another card
trump up the answer
cousins and all
personal problems
one doesn't talk
tired the king
headaches galore
Summons is binding
alligning a front
Crawling now fixed
late cousin's blood
long live the king!
whoever decided
unborn our fate
chance 50/50
shrouded in black
lost Cinderella
powerful figure
chains broken free
binding in service
black demon thing
quiet reunion
not engineered
knowledge essential
black & white truth
alarums, excursions
settling down
watch by her side
rest
quiet
thought
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Once you're less concerned about conventional form, you can start experimenting with your own. As with many of these poems, this one grew out of the image. Diary 46: Taureth relays Fiona's message to Dorian about the Pattern's megalomaniacal dreams of conquest.
Shipwrecked in an Alien World
Shipwrecked in an alien world
The natives hardly more trustworthy
Than the crew
I long for home
One steps up to me and holds
A mirror before my eyes
Within its folds
The sky turns blue
And the gun in my hands
Twists and turns
Into a snake
A worm that would
Possess me
Burrow deep inside me and
Eat my brain
His mirror holds truth
He says
But the snake will not know
Unless I let on
So show no fear
And fire not a shot
And you might
Just
Survive
Shipwrecked in an alien world
The natives hardly
More trust worthy than the crew
I long for home
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I really had a lot of fun playing the fool in Chaos, especially since none of the other players even knew that it was only a put on. Smiles can make people very nervous...
Smile
Uncertainty
Veiled easily
The most disarming mask of all
Smile pleasantly
Be sure to see
All those around you held in thrall
A sharper blade
Was never made
By any smith of any steel
No frown so fierce
Could ever pierce
The politicians' lying spiel
Suspicion reigns
And forges chains
That leave the truth well bound and sealed
A beaming smile
A whole new style
A mask, a weapon and a shield
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One of my best, I think. I got the rhyme scheme from Derek Walcott's brilliant epic poem "Omeros".
D.O.E.
Don't! That single word, a gasp, no more,
Remains unanswered, but a silent grin,
Triumphant smile, betrays what went before:
The contact short, the message sharp, the stain
Reverberates from shock. A craving grows
For more; I cannot stand this touch again.
Too much, too close, my breaking point, he
knows
And then he'll have me at his beck and call;
Good dog! I'll heel and fetch and revel in the throes,
Till there is nothing left save for my fall
From grace. No will, identity is void,
A mindless vessel, broken smiling doll,
Accursed puppet, playfully destroyed;
A toy, a plaything, caught in his own strings,
With passion's perfumes thick and sweetly cloyed,
Temptation's stranglehold; imaginings
Of bluely bloated tongues, probe and entwine;
Faltering gasp, with wheezing breath I sing,
While jerking, swinging from the taut stretched
line
Of his caress, I die... To be reborn?
Is that deformed reflection there still me?
This darker figure surely will not mourn
My passing, passion addict that he is;
A one track mind, all crosses that were borne
Simply erased, their weight will not be missed;
The id remains, is nothing but a whore,
And seals his fate with each and every kiss.
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To be sung loudly and defiantly in any key you like.
Non Serviam
Our ways ran parallel till now
But this is where we part
This state of things I can't allow
You simply have no heart
"The Greater Good is all that
counts,"
You whisper in my ear
Your arrogance, it knows no bounds
I see no greatness here
Non serviam, non serviam
Just hear my cry: non serviam
Although the lines aren't in the script
I'll sing them loud, they're all ad-libbed
Non serviam, non serviam
Non serviam!
You are amazed by so much nerve
It caught you unaware
What does it mean: I will not serve?
Why this rebellious stare?
Non serviam, non serviam
The buck stops here, non serviam
To you it's just a simple game
It's still my life, so all the same
Non serviam, non serviam
Non serviam!
"You will regret this step of yours,"
You hiss through clenched teeth
I know I might at that, of course
But still it's my belief
That other issues are at stake
A larger point of view
If you go on a violent quake
Of victory will ensue
The board and pieces, each alike
All swiftly swept away
This winning business I don't like
Instead I'd rather play
Cause finally you will betray
The lives that served you well
I'm getting out, I'll quit the play
I'd rather rule in hell!
Non serviam, non serviam
Just one last time, non serviam
You thought I'd be the perfect tool
And for this purpose had me schooled
But I'll no longer be your fool
Non serviam, non serviam
Non serviam!
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Diary 56: My little get together with Martin, Melusine, Rinaldo, and Filigree on the Overshadow. God, but I hate that place...
Spider and the Fly
Cold sweat of fear
Forms carapace of ice
For him, the helpless insect
Caught in the spotlight
Main attraction or main course?
While spider daughter curses
Spider mum holds fast the line
Through twitching puppet prey
Betraying feline cruelty
And what am I
But a fly on the wall
With fear of spider's snares
And possibilties of prey
Turned predator upon release
Yet help was asked
And even flies are honour-bound
Especially when pressed by killer bee with nasty sting
And my own pair of frozen wings
Add to the instability
Unnoticed in the mother daughter chat
Till just one tug extinguishes the silver light
Undoes the trap
Daughter reclaims her prize
The spider's eyes flick to and fro
And trapping me, knowing me
Marking me for future prey
She goes
Former prey resents the daughter's ancestry
And has no further thought for me
Yet I feel caught
Myself, the web is gone
Or is that only as it seems
Did I defeat the spider's plans
Or setting him free, merely
Deliver myself into her hands?
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Images again, yet this time with no specific events in mind. There is supposed to be a "Fire and Ice (II)" as well, but somehow the image I've got in my head will not materialize into a poem. It can't be forced, though.
Fire and Ice (I)
Chaotic winds come and fan the embers
Glowing brighter still, till flames leap out
And lick the frame, consuming from within
Controlling me
Forcing me to untold acts
That make the fire burn itself out
In the heat of passion
Yet the embers remain
The cold sweat lingers
And chills
Freezing on the skin like armour
Paranoid protection in Family play
With no real warm between us ever
To crack the shell
And have me emerge reborn
Free
The cycle resumes
A regular shedding of skin without any growth
And no one ever sees
The naked I
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Neil Hannon is the one man band The Divine Comedy, and this poem is my personal rendering of his song "Ten Seconds to Midnight" from the album "Promenade". Silly, but enjoyable anyay.
Dorian's Ten Seconds to Midnight
(with apologies to Neil Hannon)
Ten
Cats turn into men
We'll drink a lot wine
Down a bottle or nine
It calms me so
Eight
Still looking for a mate
A mother for the kids
Those seven or these six
Still I'm alone
Along comes number five
Eureka! I've survived
I'm cursed therefore I am
Unlucky man
Three
Sailing out to sea
We two will never be
As happy as we were that
One fine
Sunday
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As I'm doing this, I'm beginning to realise that the later poems tend to drift towards more general topics. This one started with that first line "adopt, adapt and improvise", which John Cleese used as a bankrobber in a lingerie store in an ancient Monty Python sketch. But that's something completely different and has nothing to do with this rather serious poem.
The Walls Are Closing In
Adopt, adapt and improvise
New barriers looming up ahead
New ways to deal with family ties
Prevent the crash into the leaden
Walls of distrust and of fear
With dull imprint of previous clash
Occasionally some fresh appear
Faint faces, open-mouthed, abashed
Adopt, adapt and skirt around
Perpetual beeline, to and fro
The course uncertain, failure bound
Yet still the only way to go
No map, no thread to lead me out
Into those fields where trust is free
No minotaur as yet, no doubt
He ultimately will be me
Adopt, adapt, it won't suffice
A labyrinth of molten grey
The dripping metal fixed in ice
Ensuring my eternal stay
With ever fewer room to fly
I spiral inward to be free
Until within the centre of the I
I plummet down and slowly crash in me
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There are still poems for specific occasions, though, and the timing for this one is very specific indeed. The final scenes in diary 61 - between Dorian and respectively Adrian, Deirdre, Diana, Boadice, and Caine, so that's actually the larger part of that diary - were all played out privately in between sessions. The poem, however, was written right after session 61, but before all these individual scenes. So, Diana has just stabbed Caine in a fit of hysterical rage, and there is as yet no indication of the why and wherefore.
Bonds of Blood / Turning Points
I. pinpoint
that certain moment in time
when
the sense of possibility
finally
irreversibly
irredeemably
gives way
and is lost
what if
to
if only
as regret sets in
II. running free
it mingles on your hands
with each tug
that multiplies the pain
a hundredfold
the trickle grows
let it become a flood
of my own guilt
to wash away the deed
that stains you
red
you cut away your ties
now let the blood run free
III. as it did
that time
the circle closed around
us
yours this time
not mine
or his
and you not even
being there
was it then
that i should have refused
IV. or earlier
at the apartment
between layers of dust
and stacks of mail
that single clue
pinpointed on the board
that could have changed
had i but
understood
V. that stern glance
should have given it away
the tell-tale frown
of self-importance
self-righteousness
self
but i trusted
inexperienced
as i did
still later on
tell me truly now
how much of this
could ever have been
avoided
VI. into the circle
where he with steady hand
releases just the right amount
not the wild abandonment this
that comes later
and we have already been there
not a drop beyond
what is necessary
but just as i have told him
with enigmatic force
to back me up
VII. no
respect he feels for us
mere youngsters
chickadees
fresh from the egg
love he feels for us
me just a flunky
bow at his command
you merely meat
trust he feels for us
he will decide what course to fare
he needs no help or confidence
just for us to hear
and obey
VIII. were we so wrong
to give each other so much trust
and love
and more
to give in to that primal urge
the undeniable tug and pull
that would defy even
the strongest ties
to dance the dance
that started in that circle
again and again
and find a substitute for blood
in sweat
and tears
and
finally to give it up
to break the bond
and set out on another course
to yet another ruin
IX. he would not talk
had not the decency
for explanation
or seeking understanding
rather a relative lost
than face
X. and now he lies
in ever widening pools
as they rush in to offer assistance
and start the mending
of wounds that well may never heal
i finally meet your eyes
face the raging storm
and ask myself
how much of this is you
is him
is me
as regret sets in
as despair sinks in
the if onlies crowd around
daughter
please come back to me
and let me make amends
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From the specific back to the general. Still trying to find a reason or it all.
Chaos Theory
A thousand rules and regulations
Of etiquette and protocol -
The coin of all negotiations
The mint of ordered wherewithal.
Behind the veil of education,
Behind the civilized veneer
In evershifting constellation
The scales and tentacles career.
A world where all is ceremony
To hide disorder at its base;
Yet changing shades bear testimony
To Serpent's double Janus face.
What lies behind that hiss and slither?
What secrets in that scarlet eye?
Would gazing make the gazer wither,
Dissolve the form beyond the why?
To stand before that stark destruction,
To brave the tempest without form,
And finally by firm deduction
Unearth the Pattern as the norm,
Or find an emptiness of order,
Or worse yet, still another mask,
Thus always crossing the next border
With still more questions left to ask.
Perhaps they made the right decision
Imposing patterns of their own;
Transforming fiction into vision
Instead of chaos as it's shown,
For delving deeper in disorder
One may simply lose one's way
And find no underlying order
As ever-nothing's castaway.
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Diary 68. Dennis and Laura. What else is there to say?
Thunder
Hail Zeus, young and scruffy!
Quick change disguise
To move among the mortals
At Mount Olympus's base.
Arrange your prizes:
Duck and weave and sneak and steal
Your innings. Hera the hero;
Contend yoursef with second place,
Yet some are more than equal
Proud boasting bullyboys
With taste for easy, pray!
So, boltthrower, lightning quick:
STRIKE HIM STONE DEAD
The silver tears that follow,
Light rain upon the corpse.
Remaining: echoes and an empty sky.
Tricked by your own disguise.
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Dorian simply cares too much for an Amberite, I believe. That's why it's so easy for each and everyone to step in and claim his attention and assistance. Sometimes it just gets to much: too many plots and subplots, and no way to determine any order of importance among them. That's where this feeling is coming from.
Care
The sole fish that draws
Increasing numbers of anglers
Wide open to swallow
Hook after hook
After hook
Line after line draws taut
Until the accumulating weight
of the sinkers
Drags down and tears apart
The fragile flesh of supermen
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