Dark Materials

[Lyra]

(Hi modmins, I know about the poetry section. It's closed to non-members and there's somebody without an account I want to link this to. Also I wrote these all in my copy of Eliot's The Mill on the Floss so perhaps we can infer literary influence and commentary? Kthx?)



The court-poet, all poet's court, the judge
Who can't know the breaking who lies, wordless
In pieces, ground under speakings hammer
Truths and form righteously abuse this child

 

[Lyra]

Locks branch, reversed s'though towards the earth
Roots in some firmament, fire-charred to birth
Towards this sun-round world, where stands the tree
Out from which her mane angles, shadowed as she

Face gaunt, one eye a dark star, lit by the blaze
Th'other behind trunk veiled, deny'ng her gaze
To we through who her sight cuts, never to meet
For she's been burned too often as we fled her heat

As we called 'girl' or 'woman' a mind too pure
To brave the smog those words pour, from we the sure
From we who know the world's ways, and would impose
Their black to tar the petals of this earth-turned rose

To us her white was darkness, some brute abyss
To us her shock was madness, the cues she missed
When faced with this our dance, our strange-sick game
Affronted our strict madness, whose steps will reign

So pain made her a demon, men to wreck
I paint her fled into heart's forest, beside the track
Walked by men who in vision, might glimpse her grace
Might stand against the scars that war her face

But they're now she, and maybe that girl's going
To earth, then to make another showing
And maybe when they battle, their life the field
The cripple will turn from them, leave them on shield?

And maybe while they're fighting, they'll lose their way?
And maybe she'll desert them in heart's forest on that day?
The sweetest flower corrupted, reeks the worst hell
And if her sun's the dancefloor, death tolls the bell
As scorch or poison petals conspire to fell
The knight whose damsel rescue was too shallow a well

Who knows where's now the girl in whom this demon flower blossomed?
She won't come to the forest nor for love make his pain lessened
Maybe because from him her demon now consumes its life?
Maybe she loves but fears too much, hopes he'll find her beyond the strife?

Or maybe there's just some woman, where once starflowered the girl
Who in her passing youth would with this innocence unfurl
And so loose into an old world a young soul to suffer
I love them all, wher'er they be, traitor, child, or mother.

 

[Lyra]

Maydew lights the eyelash, of some young girl
Then flows down through the ocean of her eye's world
That turns towards a corner, to birth a tear
Who rips the world beneath her, from sphere to sphere.

She fell down to her knees, following the rent's line
And through that girl's abyss, falls out of time
That she once and will come out to, on birthing day
By that joy of sufferings 'lotted, spring's crown, may.

Black tassels tustle with, that crown of thorns
She, our little Christ, Europe's sorrow mourned
We, who teethed time clockwork, long from his tolls to fall
Before our last heaven's light, his lust can maul.

Out into this girl's nothing-- her un-domain
When she saw all men's folly, her blessing-- to refrain.

 

[Lyra]

I

I take the waves, I take the waves to sunder
Any life-raft I bind to bind this wonder
Men channel life, like beds to tame the water
But I am only tears, and tears the river.

Only tears now, and tears have no man's walls
I am without castle, a wreck, unmourned
I am without mind now, just wave breaking wave
Let the water take me, only men are brave.

II

Even this grief my thoughts won't let have peace
Listener, have you known a mind wrecked with belief?
A man who's tried to paint the world in thoughts
And lost the world in front of him they wrought?
A fool who walks with phantoms and talks mist
A man who'd make dark meanings from a kiss?
A smile: too pure for this damp-addled branch
That strives not sunward but lies to be chanced
Upon by some live creature dancing past
Who'll kick and shatter this failed man at last

III

Why do these faces from my life seem masks
For one, and only one, veiled human heart?
Why do these men and women seem my past
Writ here before my eyes like some lost part?

It's not that I see all life by my light
Although I also admit that I might.
It's that differences seem ornament
Hiding this one shared human fundament

Faces and names like bending banks adrift
Turning this ocean-life to river-mist.
I've gone-- dissolved amidst this one first man
Woman birthing him span by same-new span.

IV

O satanic vision lead me starbound!
My love cries softly, unseen, knees to ground.

She told him once of how he was enough
He lost her and all on his self-cursed path.

She spoke meekly of how he often hurt her
He didn't hear as he strove to go further.

His hindsight sometimes makes it all seem softer
But each new day is still a curse spoke last year.

 

[Lyra]

I write for some soul who will someday see
Then come and share this chaos touched by me

 

[Lyra]

The Hypocrite

[Very early poem. Not well written but makes a point.]

It's easy to damn the ways of this life
To build a petty castle by such strife
And there with weakly rejects reign supreme
Rule by what could only be a dream

But when the world comes knocking with its tests
How quickly your high robes desire divests!
And when young come to share your sacred quest
How earthly-your dream-puppets [illegible] their gifts...

For your high talk is streaked as deep with filth
As any voice with a more mundane lilt
Though wisdom's gifts and tragedy you sing
As readily would you make yourself king

As readily your mind bends to make right
Whatever raises you in that same fight
Of honour and betrayal that all men know
And some have the grace to brave without show

So mighty, mage, [illegible], tragic Martyr
Have your new higher type, your [ ] charisma
Men come to you are just the marks to play
To be life's slaves and serfs-- just in your way

High men would do better to take the world raw
I [ ] to write their law
man to man, not by grace of your house' rules
Which by their blood mark out for hate young fools

I'm sure that once you fought with noble fervour
But you failed, and now brave comfort's order
I'm sure you heard and walked great secret ways
But what is it you do-- to men-- these days?

I know you've wrecked others to their own wisdom
But what is tasked to these ranked in your kingdom?
It's sick-- some feeding frenzy of high liars
Upon those drawn in by naive desires

So brothers-- I say take the love and walk
Away from here where strength is tarred by talk
Of men grown old and fat and compromised
Who feed on your agony, failings, your world-demise

Men of genius who can bend and craft
Mirages and respites for star-struck hearts
Men who are heirs to great and wise traditions
But in their pitch made one vital omission:

they're soiled.

And somehow greatness hasn't [ ]
Hasn't to simple eyes made better men
And for the young or new there's no place here
This same grotesque clasping of aged fear.

 

[Lyra]

The Dawn of Reason

Shepherd-bright, edged clear to cut, the way ahead
Cut by one line, you doubts shrink dark, bled red
By this sword-mind, set, not for grey or shadow
But to the sun, to plunge, through young strength's meadow

Wings shade the sky, [ ] on life drawn
From aeyre, not flock, for flocks from no line spawn
But by some chaos-pattern, symbiote
to cross this young man's eye, in grids, like rote

For in this chaos pattern, this [ ]-swarm
Another space-up flocks, ray-straight, mind-drawn
To like a simple child, an age-vagued adult's [ ]
The West's young men awaking, its reason's dawn

Vague shadows always opressing, on its pure way
To make of the dark world one beheld day
But all empires lay their graves, by blood they spill
And this world has more night than day, more killed

So like youth's strength, like pride, it's being shattered
Avenged by all the [ ] it had de-mattered
For in these [ ] hid age, and in them lives
Shocked slow by this rude waking, but long to thrive.

 

[Lyra]

Oh woe, I struggle so, to inaugurate
To send out from my mind battalions that rate
Highly by that most arduous of measures:
play. fun. flirting. and light pleasure.

 

[Lyra]

'That were forever slain, and rising again'
as mind's straight grids try ordering heart's fen
With paths through time-- across-- and walking them
But time then sinks all under-- for deeper men

 

[ProxyAmenRa]

Oh woe, I struggle so, to inaugurate
To send out from my mind battalions that rate
Highly by that most arduous of measures:
play. fun. flirting. and light pleasure.

"Put another teaspoon of cement in your next coffee and harden up." - Mr. Bird

 

[Lyra]

The Error of Time

What is this-- ours-- that its young reconcile?
Tragedy its greeting-- its birthward smile,
As youth rears itself in error-- to break
(If it has life) upon the world's mistakes?

What is it that pain is noble flourishing?
That truths are in blood-stains-never on [ ]
That something so pure strives, to make aright
Its [ ] light

That we men for errors, assail each other
Never to raise a hand-- at error's mother
Being of this-- being of ours-- our way
That so well veils itself in fractured plays

That we forget we're men-- and damn men's ways
And by this one reaction, passed aeon's days
always against the sin, in some new form
Always the punishing, of youth's hopes torn

 

[Lyra]

"Put another teaspoon of cement in your next coffee and harden up." - Mr. Bird

It was a joke you fucktard.

Oh well. I Guess yours was as well.

But fuck you anyways.

 

[Lyra]

How to say desolate but that you can't?
only vitality finds words to break
This barren death-grip

only [ ], which lies, when here lie your eyes
gazing out upon the black sky it hid
These words, then, lie and don't.

These words cloud, they feed the thousands-year shroud
At whose end, under whose feet, this truth hides,
lies, unspoken

 

[Lyra]

If culture were one person-- if it knew
It would pitch itself over the next cliff
But it isn't, so hell-broke it goes on
Some few to wake and be dashed on the rocks

 

[Lyra]

On Sensitivity

Morbidity mimics this life
In men too white for its black strife
So venom they speak in imbalance
And black hearts think them black for aped malie

 

[Lyra]

haze. that's what I see in this time
this maze where they chase such vague prize
codes: which bind men yet make fractured
that strength which life's youth manufactures

That spark, which sends fires running round
Those hedges, trying to burn to the ground
What? Haze? Yes, the castles it past-built
From, for, and to taunt its own blood-lilt

The cadence of hell is gain's lying voice
Onwards the chase and the prize is: the race
This has all gone before, and will slay again
And yet all's not the same as life escapes its men

The haze is its way, the haze houses its veins
The strength is the blood to be pumped and to drain
The rooms shift in shape, the haze eludes sight
And I long for some life sharp and clear as this knife

 

[Lyra]

The Literary Magazine

The words flit by my eyes but all I feel's
The stench of fears that made this issue real
First the editor who's walking words' tightropes
Above some dark abyss of cliche he gropes
Not to lose that line that's led him this high
Not to fall from cultivated page skies
Down into that thronging mass of hopefuls
of not quite-right and hearts who've made the fall
Into the wrongs that taste [ ] strive shy from
Into the throng of hearts who haven't won
Some safety from the terror of that world
Some barbed-wire niche where their love can unfurl,
The pains done them that they don't have to hide
That in their torturers they can confide:
Men. Dripping with blood and wrecked by fear.

 

[Lyra]

The Dance of Life

Pray watch with me the courtly dance
of human failure and advance
Pray note with me how all men fail
When they try to live the world's tale.

See there that man, that anyman
Striving to ace what steps he can
One sure step left, forfeits the right
His eyes blind to some greater might

The world's too large, one mind too small
Hear them receive some girls' footfall:
She steps with care, but minds confer
And will on some charge lower her

or take that youth, that spoke some truth
From failed forefather's minds aloof
Oh very good! And such bad form
He won one game, thus lost ten more

She lost none now, so history
Was left to note her calumny
He won none now, so some high mind
Was left to bless his missteps' rhyme

Our dialectic soaked in blood
Where all surpass, all seek the good
And so leave all in body piles
Up to the task? A new task hails!

A new task hidden far behind
What came within your thought's small mind
'Your steps were wrong! You failed the test!'
'I knew not this test. I did my best'.

But the world's fell, so men will strive
Past men-- The wrong beneath their climb
Towards the right, towards the height
That no man grasps, that flees with spite

The men dance on, make their assays
For favours who will then betray
Surely there's ways better then this?
Yes-- see those two, lost in some kiss.

But that's a lie, the price is high
For any [ ] that would take flight
The dance always asserts its rule
And strikes with vengeance loving fools

So what's the way? This game's not true?
Or midst the bloodbath some win through?
Live inoffensive under victors?
They rise and fall-- life's joys stay with us?

We know it's wrong. We feel the hell
To love those close is to do well?
Or right the world, enter the fray
And become one more harsh assay?

 

[Lyra]

I saw a girl one year in new love's flower
Next year I saw a man broke by her power

 

[ProxyAmenRa]

It was a joke you fucktard.

Oh well. I Guess yours was as well.

But fuck you anyways.

I think we're perfect for each other.

 

[redbaron]

I have some dark materials to share as well.

Spoiler

 

[pjoa09]

I have some dark materials to share as well.

Spoiler

I have some light materials to share as well.

Spoiler

 

[Lyra]

What is wrong with you people? It's a literary reference made in the literary forum. Fuck you.

Hey free association I guess.

pjoa9. Eugenics. Creative solutions!

 

[ProxyAmenRa]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&v=scaAz1zcdXI&NR=1

 

[The Gopher]

What is wrong with you people? It's a literary reference made in the literary forum. Fuck you.

This is an intp forum. No need to get angry!

 

[Cognisant]

Are you kidding, that was my favorite part!

It was raw and bitter, everything else (though well written) falls short in comparison.

 

[BigApplePi]

Hi Lyra. Not everyone gets fine literature. I could use a lesson. With your knowledge and skill you must have much to impart.

What is wrong with you people?

They want to learn from you.

It's a literary reference made in the literary forum. Fuck you.

Those last two words ... to what class of literature do they belong?

Hey free association I guess.

Guess again.

 

[BigApplePi]

I think we're perfect for each other.

Needs work.

 

[Lyra]

Hi Lyra. Not everyone gets fine literature. I could use a lesson. With your knowledge and skill you must have much to impart. They want to learn from you.

Those last two words ... to what class of literature do they belong?

Guess again.

 

[Cognisant]

Lol, I'm loving it, I am so loving it

Seriously though guys as foppish as Lyra's poetry may be you don't have to give him a hard time about it, I mean sure give critique, but I've seen very little legitimate critique thus far and some of the jokes seem more mean spirited than humorous.

C'mon, really? Is that who we are?
Take a moment to consider what separates this place from places like INTPcentral.

Granted this is a tad hypocritical as I'm a bit of a dick myself, but I try not to be needlessly dickish y'know? Strong emphasis on "try".

 

[kantor1003]

This isn't anything new. When confronted by some creation it is far easier to elevate oneself by ridicule than it is by creating something of value on your own. This seems to hold true on this forum just as much as it holds true everywhere else. It's disgusting.

Spoiler

A suitable rant towards this phenomenon. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WDrgwZsGC9A

 

[BigApplePi]

Thank you Lyra for your kind offer. I can't right now as I'm already married, but will keep you in mind.

 

[BigApplePi]

This isn't anything new. When confronted by some creation it is far easier to elevate oneself by ridicule than it is by creating something of value on your own. This seems to hold true on this forum just as much as it holds true everywhere else. It's disgusting.

kantor that seems to be true. Let's look at feelings. There are sensitive and special feelings expressed in literature by literature. There are people expressing them. Now why wouldn't a literature thread continue on with the subject of the literature? What would block it? What would be the surprise? What would be the offense that would derail it that wouldn't happen if there were no offense to start with? Is or was there any offense to start with? Are we insensitive? What brings out this insensitivity?

Is the literature itself false? Is it missing something? "The road to hell is paved with ..." Can we laugh at ourselves?

 

[Lyra]

Can you shut the fuck up?

 

[Cognisant]

This isn't anything new. When confronted by some creation it is far easier to elevate oneself by ridicule than it is by creating something of value on your own. This seems to hold true on this forum just as much as it holds true everywhere else. It's disgusting.

Spoiler

A suitable rant towards this phenomenon. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WDrgwZsGC9A

Five times in a row, urraaahhhhagh, six.

 

[Lyra]

Spoiler

Five times in a row, urraaahhhhagh, six.

 

[BigApplePi]

Re: Dark Copy

Even this grief my thoughts won't let have peace
Listener, have you known a mind wrecked with belief?
A man who's tried to paint the world in thoughts
And lost the world in front of him they wrought?
A fool who walks with phantoms and talks mist
A man who'd make dark meanings from a kiss?
A smile: too pure for this damp-addled branch
That strives not sunward but lies to be chanced
Upon by some live creature dancing past
Who'll kick and shatter this failed man at last

 

[Lyra]

Re: Dark Copy

Even this grief my thoughts won't let have peace
Listener, have you known a mind wrecked with belief?
A man who's tried to paint the world in thoughts
And lost the world in front of him they wrought?
A fool who walks with phantoms and talks mist
A man who'd make dark meanings from a kiss?
A smile: too pure for this damp-addled branch
That strives not sunward but lies to be chanced
Upon by some live creature dancing past
Who'll kick and shatter this failed man at last

A sure path to moral and mental improvement. Actually, it would even be a good idea to treat my post archive like the old Chinese treated Confucius. Instead of ever writing anything new, just find the quote that fits the context and allow the corrective influence to gradually reform and refine the proletarian sludge of your being.

 

[BigApplePi]

Dark Talk

Bob Arthur Miller, USA

Poem You Talk Too Much
Gibber gabber
i hear you,
is that all
you ever do?

I try to listen
to a song,
but your mouth moves
all day long.

Living with you
just is'nt fair,
because your mouth
is all i hear.

In your hand
our phone will sit,
because all day long
your mouth won't quit.

There are other voices
that we could hear,
if you did'nt take
all their air.

We cannot get
a word in edge wise,
because your mouths moving
to no surprise.

It's more annoying
than my alarm clock beeping
because i still hear you
while your sleeping.

Is there such thing
as a speaking diet,
if there is
i think you should try it.

Because you talk too much
you can't deny it,
Oh! what it would be
to hear you quiet


But i know
that won't happen,
because you just live
to keep on gabbin.

 

[Lyra]

This is why Plato's blonze-blood myth should have been implemented. 'cos otherwise they just keep on spewing. Go post your retard prole poem in another thread. I'm trying to create something here and you keep getting in the way, bringing it all down to your homogenous proletarian earth of shit-brained reason and 'questions' and shut the fuck up you legacy of Hitler's failure.

 

[Fukyo]

Geez people.

Shut the fuck up all of you will you? (just keeping up with the spirit of the thread )



Regardless of Lyra's involvement with Pod'lair he's still a member can should be able to post in threads of interest without mockery.

@Lyra, while I can understand your defensiveness... don't be so snappy, and no more flashing images, please. If you want, I can move the offtopic posts.

 

[Lyra]

It amused Cog so they can stay...

Sure on the flashing images etc.

 

[Lyra]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xncOuJif0OA&feature=autoplay&list=PL5J1Xy293xBvrh8FPKnv_0ROWnV7mXj0l&playnext=3

 

[Lyra]

I see, they say, I say, they see themselves
Through this, this mirror held up as my shell
of words sent like a flare through blazing light
of words spoken to paint a silent night

Ten thousand hear, and but one knows, what lies
Through light, beyond the blue.

Ten thousand speak, and but one says, what tries
To hide unsaid.

But live.

But live, fire wrought into a world of ice,
But live as noise where silence won't suffice
to be as is, not under their empire
That husk that silence vows to cleanse by fire

-Dedicated to lor

 

[Lyra]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x3qEdXyDBh0&feature=BFa&list=PL5J1Xy293xBvrh8FPKnv_0ROWnV7mXj0l

 

[pjoa09]

@Fukyo would you move Pi's poem to its own thread, actually? It's making me want to do very cruel things seeing it every time I come to post something new here.

Please don't. It's the only damn thing I can actually understand.

The rest are strange passages from the twelfth century. I have a "whoaa" moment and I move along with the tour guide.

 

[Kuu]

Seriously people, if you have nothing of worth to add, be kind enough to remove yourselves from the thread. Otherwise, I'd have to be kind enough to remove you myself... and Stalin doesn't like kindness.

 

[Cognisant]

*Sits beside Kuu*

Spoiler

 

[BigApplePi]

Please don't. It's the only damn thing I can actually understand.

The rest are strange passages from the twelfth century. I have a "whoaa" moment and I move along with the tour guide.

At the time I thought the poem in keeping with the direction of a strand of the thread. Even if it might offend one person, a person whose intensions are not clearly stated to this audience from the beginning, a thread may take many directions. If it offends one person, why bring attention to it when it can be safely ignored? New intentions can be stated and in good faith, not only adhered to but emphasized. Why not grow stronger by looking at the boundaries?

Thanks pjoa09 whatever happens.

 

[Lyra]

At the time I thought the poem in keeping with the direction of a strand of the thread. Even if it might offend one person, a person whose intensions are not clearly stated to this audience from the beginning, a thread may take many directions. If it offends one person, why bring attention to it when it can be safely ignored? New intentions can be stated and in good faith, not only adhered to but emphasized. Why not grow stronger by looking at the boundaries?

Thanks pjoa09 whatever happens.

Because reason is a whore and this is a temple, and, as she is in the arms of most men, you're profane.