The Phalyn (Dark Bards)

repost from my LJ

mishlof — Sat, 27 Jan 2007 19:28:04 GMT

It is a multifaceted beast, one that craves attention, yet wants to be free of laws.
For some it is a mystery, an elusive monster needing to be tamed.
For some it can become broken in, and taken for granted.
For some an experience that fades to be found anew in another beast.
Some a master that knows no limits, a cause, a purpose, a meaning to the dread we call life.
To be in the glow of the beast grants power, to be in it's shadow rips at your soul.
For those that wish to hunt this beast be warned once captured, you way of life will never be the same.
Yet we all must hunt it, because to never see this beast first hand, is to only live a fools visions of it...

Love

drug_disaster — Fri, 25 Nov 2005 18:19:44 GMT

Please, read my Lj.

Eternal

forgottenenigma — Thu, 09 Dec 2004 06:13:22 GMT

The light flickers and in another moment, the dimness of the world encompasses me. The artifical glow of street lamps and house lights yield no comfort. I am alone. The winds screech, beings lost in this fast paced, uncaring world. Carbon clouds settle comfortably around the moon, shielding its guiding light. I am lost.

The streets are filled with throngs of people, faceless strangers, people that are not worth knowing. Everyone is the same; he is concerned with only himself, his pleasure and nothing more. It didn't realized until countless nights had passed, where I had fed those until they became satiatiated and had gotten nothing in return. Or had I? Had I sucked their souls clean until they became nothing more than weak whisps or angry cyclones depending upon their determination to reclaim their lives? Is this why I feel empty?

I thirst more for that human sustanance causing my soul to become more tainted. Somehow I always yearn for more. Are there enough souls to quench this seemingly unsatiable taste for pain and suffering? I steal hearts just as the being that once owned it failed miserably to do... My sole goals consist of the conquer, the destruction and the search.

The endless darkness grows deeper and becomes engrained in each fiber. There are no more lights in this world I know. There is no such thing as trust nor good will... Yet another light flickers. Corruption or hope?

Songs of power

flutepiccoloboy — Sun, 05 Dec 2004 03:43:59 GMT

Compose a Song of power,
And the world will play it a dirge-

Conduct a symphony for spirits to wail,
and the world will hear it silent-

weave notes that bear no meaning but yours,
and the world will take them and them its own-

Touch not your heartsrings,
for the world will pluck them down-

Thoughts

mishlof — Sat, 11 Sep 2004 07:54:23 GMT

"A dream, a quest, an obsession, a spell placed on my soul. No cure but the knife I hold, to carve out the pain I feel. Love unrequited yet unknown. A dreamer's folly."

asoul_isborn — Thu, 22 Jul 2004 20:52:01 GMT

He murmured do you want to come in?
And I felt myself almost stumble
With a growing ache I clutched the door
Was this unforgivable
Or was it destined?

I shuttered beneath my skin
As we linger close to one another in the elevator
My pace was breaking fast
As I loitered on a dream
I know he wasn’t mine
As the minutes pressed, I close my eyes
and travel fast beyond those concepts
In hurried breath I drank him in
So close he was but my soul akin
I dreamt of love
And stole a breath of someone else’s reverie

....

mishlof — Sun, 13 Jun 2004 07:45:24 GMT

Tears in the Rain,
Hiding the pain
the pain of missing you
and the things we used to do...

Is it better to loved and lost rather to never loved at all? to live in a tormented concept of what you do not know, or to know what you no longer have? To wait for love not knowing it's bliss, or to feel hollow for the bliss that once was?

Love : Chemical reaction to stimulate long term copulation to reproduce the species.

Love : To find one's soulmate, to complete the circle of life.

hello all I'm back, and hope to see Phalyn return again, a comunity on life support, with a father not yet wanting to pull the plug.

Not dead yet...

walkabout — Tue, 18 May 2004 18:11:03 GMT

Walking home in the rain. The bar had been too warm, the night is refreshing. Familiar cities are supposed to make the loneliness easier to handle, like the land knows you. Usually, I'd agree, but not tonight. As the lightning crackles in the distance, all I can think of is how far I have left to go and how heavy my feet suddenly feel. With everything I give a shit about so far away, the sky looms enormous above my head. As the rain falls faster, I try to summon up the old rage, fling a little spite at the world to lift myself up, but it's not there. Tonight, all things are cast aside, even my last reserve of hatred. I lift my gaze skyward once more, blinking away raindrops, half wishing one errant bolt would strike me where I stood. How long I stand here, I have no idea, but the feeling of vertiginous flight is overwhelming, as if I'm floating through physical memories not yet formed. I lower my eyes to find that the cigarette I had hardly noticed lighting has burned down to my fingers. With a heavy sigh, I continue the long walk home. Home, someplace I've yet to find, someplace I half hope I never reach, someplace I doubt exists.

Cities are supposed to know you. This one does well enough to leave well enough alone.

By request, part two...

walkabout — Sat, 12 Apr 2003 11:35:43 GMT

Yeah, I've screwed with the color scheme. I think it works ok. Since a continuation was requested, I've written one, and there may yet be more, we'll see. This one's a bit longer.

She knew he hadn’t always been like this. He’d tried to explain once.
“This whole angel/demon thing is bullshit. Really, we’re all just here. You accept your nature or not. Ours are just more pervading than humans’. More spirit, less form.”
He’d been an Illudian, a being she’d have once called an angel. They watch over spirit travelers, usually humans, keeping them safe from the hateful, hungry forces that dwell just outside consciousness. And he’d failed. She never had gotten him to tell her how. But the others like him denied his continued existence, as if he’d died when he couldn’t take his own self-loathing anymore and had cut off the shimmering silver-blue wings common to his kind.
That had been an eternity ago in human terms, on a different world somewhere in the realms of possibility. Since then, he’d wandered in human form, fighting countless battles against nightmares, but never staying to watch over anyone.
Until now.
She glanced up at him, waiting as she prepared the song to shift her mind upward. Physically, he was near-perfect, but the conflict that radiated from him drove even the least sensitive mortals away.
Despite that rage and the swirling madness he barely held in check, he was one of the more powerful guardians she’d met in her travels. Even the shadowed fear-forms that stalked most humans on the other side shrank away from him in terror.
She shuddered, remembering. In the early days of her journeys, she’d taken simple spirit guides with her. But the fear lurking in the darkness had overpowered them. It would have consumed her if he’d not happened by then, drawn by the unknowable winds that moved him through the dreamverse, banishing it back into the inky blackness from which it had come. He hadn’t waited long enough for her to thank him.
Her other guardians told her he was a Fallen, one of the few who neither sought redemption nor had been taken by their destructive urges. She’d Called him on occasion now and then when she needed a message sent into the Deep Dream and no guardian nor fey nor spirit guide could take it.
But now she needed protection. For she had questions only the Watcher could answer. And long ages immersed in the mass delusions and depredations of mankind had warped the ancient consciousness and twisted the dreamscape around it into a maze of malicious terror. Guardians couldn’t be asked to go; no daemon powerful enough to go freely could be trusted; and no lone human or even circle could hope to escape unscathed.
The Fallen knew madness and fury, breathed it every agonizing day of their existence. But they could not be bound long, and no spell or song of compelling held true in the domain of the Watcher.
“You’re afraid.”
“Of course. The others say I can’t trust you.”
“Do they now?”
Though he sounded amused, his eyes held something else, but the force of them was too much for her. She changed the subject.
“Why are they so hostile toward you?”
“I failed.”
The flat denial. A denial of all his former, glorious existence.
“It’s more than that, and you know it. Tell me.”
“Is that a Command?”
His expression twisted into a self mocking smirk. He knew she hated direct orders and she knew well that most had no effect on him. But she still didn’t know why.
“No, it’s not. I was just curious.”
He sighed, and for a moment, the weight of his old grief washed over her in waves.
“I shouldn’t be here, according to their rules.”
This, she’d heard before.
“Go on.”
“No Fallen, none, has ever stayed within the mortal sphere so long as I have without being…taken. I fly in the face of what they think they know.”
His voice twisted sarcastically, as it often did when he spoke of other guardians. She hardly noticed, the shock of his assertion was plain on her face.
“Yes, they’ve lied to you. They really don’t know what we are any more than you do. And as far as how this lovely spiritverse of ours works, they haven’t a clue.”
The spite dripped from his voice, but it was more than that. For an instant, she saw clearly the moment of his own betrayal so long ago and the timeless questioning he’d done in the eons since.
“You’re stalling. Besides, according to your precious guardians, I’m a lunatic anyway. Let’s go.”
He was right about that. But she wasn’t sure as she began the song of travel which possibility scared her more: that he was crazy or that he might just be right.

wingednothing — Fri, 11 Apr 2003 08:14:12 GMT

thoughts through my head for something over two years... never got around and right now I just feel like writing and can't get this out of my head.

"Do you know him? No? Then why are you looking at him like that?"
I shrugged.
"He just looked familiar there for a moment. I'm probably wrong."
But I wasn't. I knew him, just like I knew so many people before I met them. I chuckle softly to myself and my friend looks over at me oddly. Most of them would never know that. My friend didn't realize that I had looked at him in a very similar matter when I first saw him. But it was different this time.
What were the choices that I had here? I could run, and never know who this was until the day he killed me. Or I could walk up, extend my hand and say hello, a pleasure to meet you. Look up into those eyes and say, oh, and by the way, did you know that you will eventually cause my death? Oh, sure, that wouldn't make someone run screaming into the night or anything. I could walk away very easily. I'd be quite content never knowing the manner or bringer of my death.
Sometimes, though, as you are mulling and stop paying attention to the situation at hand, the decision is made for you.
"Hi."

to much more that should go with this, blarg. Dreams are funny things.

A Short

walkabout — Thu, 10 Apr 2003 08:36:55 GMT

"You called me here for a reason."
The voice was far older than the speaker. In fact, the man who stood before her appeared to be in his mid-twenties, at most. But his voice, it held the weight of ages, sliding over her like a physical force of pain and rage and longing. It forced her to remember what he was. And that was a story in itself.
"So? I didn't come just to watch you daydream."
The scorn was mostly for show. But it snapped her back to the task at hand. She needed a guardian, but not just any one. Where she was going, she'd need something as potentially terrifying as that which threatened her. Which was why she needed him.
"You know I don't do protection anymore."
It was a reminder that he could read her. Not telepathy, but close enough. But it was also a reminder of what he was, the closely held anguish in that statement was enough. He'd failed once, long ago, and he'd never let himself forget, even after taking this form.
"If you're not going to speak, I'll go."
As he turned, she felt a pang of sadness for even calling him. Since he didn't need to pass as well here, he wore no shirt, and his bare back still held the scars of his self-reproach. Tattoos covered them in this human shape, but she knew that under them were the knots of the hate he'd felt when he cut off his own wings.
"Wait."
He stopped, not turning. The slight movement of his breathing betrayed the agony of his staying. And still, she knew he wouldn't deny her, even if he could have.
"I...I need you to come with me."
"I know. To see the Watcher, you need someone as hateful and as depraved as he is. Which is why you called me. Face it, your other guardians have grown too soft."
There was no masking the angry pride in his voice, but there was no reason to. He was right. But she could only force him so far.
"I know I can't make you go past the second gate, but will you help me?"
"If you're offering some sorry attempt at redemption, you know I don't want it."
She sighed as he stayed impassively furious where he was, the dismissing song on her lips...
"But yes, I'll come. There is no one else."
He sounded defeated, but he turned to look at her, the smoldering passion and fury behind his eyes, the remembrance of the last time he'd tried to protect instead of destroy. And perhaps, then, he was just the combination of monster and savior she needed.
"Thank you. Come, we need to go."

Tears in the Rain ... Screams in the thunder.

mishlof — Mon, 31 Mar 2003 00:04:05 GMT

Rage unfocused.
Anger unjustified.
Hate swelling.
emotion.
Sadness flowing.
Energy Draining.
Silence golden.
emotion.

We are creatures caged in someone else's dream. It works for 80% of the population with no room for the 20%, unless your rich or can mold yourself into society. Emotion drives our very needs our true nature, it's a beast that needs to be fueled. A panther's growl held back by mortality's constraints. loose the beast and become a drone, loose the constraints and become a savage.

Chains tighten, knives cut, blood pools.

Oh damnation to do, yet damnation to refuse. Do the right thing follow the beast, but to do so makes you just another slave to a new master. There is no true free will, only an illusion to maintain sanity. You do what you want to do, only if you can book the time around your prison. Everyone is a slave, but who is your master, the Beast or Society?

MiShLoF
Cheaper than therapy Book One.

Joint Effort- Volume 3

wingednothing — Sun, 09 Mar 2003 18:34:23 GMT

This is the best (in my opinion) and the longest of the three. We spent an hour and a half or so on this one. Long enough that I shall LJ-Cut this one.... We have edited this one togehter, taking out the IM names and such for more continuity. It just was better this way. You'll see why.

The music pounded itself into my head. The same bass beat over and over, pulsating with the lights- blue, red, white, green, gold, then black. I could feel it all- music, people, colors, sweat, blood, emotion- it poured into my skin and I loved it. The vibrations on the last inches of my spine forced me to live it, again, and again, and again.
Funny how the past comes back in times of least input or greatest sensory overload. It's like the memories are just waiting for the times when you are the most susceptible to them. And in the confusion of the dance floor, they overtake you. Funny, the rhythm really is going to get you, but I never intended on running from it to begin with.
In fact, one reason I still came here was to walk through my memories on their own terms; in a place where I couldn't shape and distort them. I had to stare at them through the lens of forced honesty. After all, what better place than the club where it all started?
But still, I was a little afraid, afraid of some things my conscious mind kept hidden from me. Like why here? Why then? Had it all happened now.... how would it be different? And, if there was no answer to those 'whys', what was I supposed to think? Hell, I suppose I could think about alcohol, or wonder who the hottie was who was trying just so hard to get my attention. Sorry sweetie, I got other things on my mind tonight....
Picking apart the past- some people would have 'gotten over it' or 'moved on.' But I had to know. After all, I deserved that much didn't I? Or did I really deserve anything?
Doubt was a bitch, but for now, I let it drop. I had more important things to do. Like wander over to the bar and experience that drink I had been thinking about. Taste. It was a sense that could bring back more memories than sight or hearing. Taste and smell. God, I could still smell him. But it is so much easier to let the astringent flavor of the alcohol carry that away. Seeing him when I closed my eyes was bad enough, I didn't need to smell him tonight too.
But, through all the chaos of the room, there was his voice again, hypnotic, powerful. It matched his eyes. What had he said that night? Nothing is set in stone. There is no fate, there is no predestined gain or loss. There they were, words he'd spoken on so many occasions. Usually, he was trying to convince someone of something, but that night, he was reminding me. Never forget this.... And now what was I doing? Trying to bury myself in a drink. Damn it.
I needed to remember; needed to- the thought came interrupted. Nothing in the room changed, yet it had. The music wasn't all encompassing now. The colours.... they were just that. Why did things feel empty like this? Just like it used to when he- oh God. It was because there was another presence in the room, something, someone, brighter than all the colors, louder than all the music. Oh God. It's been over a year. Why tonight, why to-fucking-night?
But he was there, in all his glory, simultaneously noticing and dismissing everything in the room. The arrogance dripping off of him as his eyes scanned the crowd.
I wondered if I could sink into this corner enough, wrap the shadows around me and pray that he leaves before he breaks my heart again. But he knew that I was there, just as I had felt him enter, and in some small part of my mind, I knew I was drawing him to me. I wanted him to find me. Inevitable, unless I snuck out the back. I wanted to throw my arms around him as much as I wanted to run. Fight or flight, fight or flight.
I stood up a little straighter. All at once, he was there, close enough to taste, gazing at me with those eyes, distant and real at the same time. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.
I've got this theory about relationships- eat the roses before they eat you. I wasn't going to let myself be eaten this time. Not by him, not by anyone.... I wouldn't be destroyed.
My mantra broke as he gently stroked my cheek. I flinched. A step back was all I needed, but the genius that I am had decided to stand against the wall because it looked more nonchalant.
"Hello, Demian."
"Hello."
I'd heard him make his voice terrifying, persuasive, sensual, but now he was using that strange mix of amusement, enticement, and desire that he saved for special greetings. It made me want to melt into him. A side step would have to do.
"What are you doing here Demian?"
He mocked a pained look.
"I'm not allowed to come to my favorite club? Besides, I could ask you the same."
"I haven't seen you here in a year Demian and I'm here every Friday night and you know I tend bar on Saturdays. Cut the crap. You made sure I would never be a fool after I met you, and I don't intend to need that lesson again."
He dropped his act. "Fair enough. Truth be told, I wanted to see you again."
I stared at his face trying to find some last vestige of an act. There wasn't one, not one damn bit. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe him so bad it made my teeth hurt. That was more terrifying than anything.
My voice was softer than I intended it to be.
"You left a year ago without even saying goodbye."
"I'd apologize, but you know I don't do that and we both know it wouldn't help."
There was nothing to say to that. He was right. We had always said that our freedom was the most important thing. But what could I say? How did he expect me to respond? I had fallen in love with him, and all the time in the world wasn't going to change that. I also wasn’t ready to forgive him for that either.
He stared at me for a second like he was trying to see all that had passed while he'd been gone. It made me dizzy, but I found I could meet his gaze. If I'd thought it possible, he looked almost sad. If only he knew.
"A lot has changed Demian." I couldn't meet his eyes anymore. I hated how wounded I sounded.
His voice was so soft, it barely carried over the music. "I know." Most people say that automatically. With him, I never doubted. He always knew, and that was so damn infuriating.
His hand was there on my cheek again, barely touching, almost painfully gentle. "I've...missed you."
I wasn't going to cry. There was no way he was going to make me cry. "A year Demian... and ... now you miss me?”
His eyes flashed, only for a second, but there was enough anger there to stagger me. If it had been directed, it would have made anyone run in terror, but he'd always saved his hatred for himself. So I had deserved that one, but what else was I supposed to say? God, I missed you too. It hurt too much, and as petty as it sounded.... I almost wanted him to hurt as much as I did.
"Most people wouldn't have come tonight, you know that I can't just leave with nothing. I know I did then, but I'm not exactly the same either." He was controlled, but the emotion was still there, bubbling beneath the surface.
"You never were most people."
"Neither were you."
I had meant mine as a stinging insult. He meant it as a compliment. Now who was being the ass? I hated feeling flustered. "Want a drink? It's on the house..."
"No, but I think you do know what I do want." His fingers rested under my chin; I'd looked away without realizing it.
"No Demian, I don't know what you want. I thought I did once." I turned my face back slowly, not meeting his gaze. He lifted my chin ever so slightly, forcing me to look into his eyes.
"Yes, you do." His voice was soft, but I could feel it dance across my skin.
"Damn it Demian." Yes, I was using his name more than I needed to. It was my way of showing him how angry I was with him without screaming and breaking down on the sticky floor.
"You can't just expect..."
He silenced me with a look. It was pained, full of desire and longing. It was one that belonged only to him, and he knew the effect it had on me.
"What would you do if I said I was seeing someone now?" Again the pettiness, but God it hurt so much just to look at him. Part of me hoped he'd believe me and leave.
He grinned, though the look in his eyes was still there. "You know that's when I'm at my best."
I never seemed to be able to win with him. The only thing that could happen was I'd lose and end up falling for him again. Though it's hard to fall farther for someone when you've been at the bottom since you first met his eyes.
"I...want another chance." Still the look. Humility was not his strong point, not by a long shot. This was costing him. It was the closest thing that he had ever done to admitting he was wrong. And I didn't know what to say.
I closed my eyes and whispered, "Where have you been for the past year?"
"Around." That one word carried all the sadness, anger, wonder, and simple joy in the world.
It was so nice to know that I rated a one-word answer. I felt the anger growing again.
"I could spend another year trying to tell you. I've seen a lot, felt a lot. I… thought about what I gave up. That's why I came back."
And as quickly as it came, it vanished. We had stood there and spoken, his hand on my face and I hadn't said it. I hadn't said it. I didn’t want to feel like I had to say it.
"I missed you."
"Will you come with me? Tonight? I think...we have some things to talk about." He never pleaded or begged, but this was as close as I'd ever heard him. That questioning tone. He sounded, almost, confused. As though he were unsure of how I would respond. I think he as much expected me to hit him, or at least tell him off more than he expected me to say, "Where did you want to go?"
"A Walk." Just like that, capitalized.
"A walk." That was how it started. Maybe it was starting again.... maybe I still would slap him. Either that or kiss him.
He leaned in, slowly, pausing with his lips barely touching mine before pulling back, that mix of desire and pleading in his eyes again.
"Please?"
There he went reading my mind again. A chill swept over my skin. All I could do was nod my head like an idiot. I seemed to be good at the idiot thing tonight.
His movement was almost violent as he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me into the kiss. His taste, the feel of him, they were all the same. Some things you never forget. And under it all, that burning of his passion, smoldering inside him like a caged animal waiting to get out. I felt the heat rise to my face and sink through the rest of my body. Whether a year or a hundred years, I'd never forget the feeling of his lips on mine.
"Oh God, Demian," I whispered into his lips. I couldn't force my legs to take a step away.
"Just let go," he murmured back, gripping me tighter in his arms, searching now with his tongue.
I tried to draw away, my head hitting the wall behind me. My eyes searched his. "Didn’t you want to go for a walk?"
He kept a loose hold. "You knew what else I was asking for." Utter confidence, as usual. And he was right, as usual.
I remembered this feeling- his heart beating, the flames in his eyes and the arrogance in his voice.
"Let's start with a walk Demian."
"As you wish, Lena." It was the first time he'd used my name, the first time I'd heard it melt off his lips in a year. With that one word, he'd told me everything I needed to know. I couldn't help but follow him out the door.

Joint Effort Volume 2

walkabout — Sun, 09 Mar 2003 18:29:58 GMT

Part two in my writing endeavors with WingedNothing. My turn to start this time.

j4b3rw0x (8:20:57 PM): Though no one would ever believe it, he had always been a protector...
XPixieFeathersX (8:22:14 PM): somewhere in his heart, all he wanted was to be that knight in shiny armor on a white horse... on second thought, scratch the white horse. A rather large broad sword would be enough for him.
j4b3rw0x (8:23:34 PM): All he wanted was to feel that he could serve something greater than he.
XPixieFeathersX (8:24:48 PM): Unfortunatly, in this modern nest of apathy and small mindedness, it was hard to find anything worth fighting for.
j4b3rw0x (8:26:27 PM): And he was painfully aware of just how fine the line was that he walked, between his hope for worth and his contempt for the world around him.
XPixieFeathersX (8:28:10 PM): Herman Hesse would have dubbed him a Steppenwolf, a wolf of the steppes come to live amoung the middle class, fighting between his contempt for the bourguios attitudes that pervaded and his need to find a worth in that world.

j4b3rw0x (8:29:49 PM): But usually, he tried not to think, focusing his feelings, his instincts, on what was around him.
XPixieFeathersX (8:30:47 PM): Those intsints lead him to many a strange place indeed.
j4b3rw0x (8:31:29 PM): And, more than that, to strange people, people who both confounded and excited him.
XPixieFeathersX (8:34:13 PM): Sometimes the spiritual scent of a person is enough to make even the mundane sit up and pnder for a moment before going on with their busy little lives. And for someone like our wolf....
j4b3rw0x (8:35:20 PM): ...tt was like a call across a vast wilderness, maybe not even another wolf cry, but the shared voice was one that he had to answer.
XPixieFeathersX (8:37:22 PM): And so he ran, following that voice on the wind, that spiritual scent that drew him. Onward, onward away from known territory... just to find that voice.
j4b3rw0x (8:38:22 PM): And when he found it, he'd found that it belonged not to someone in need of protection, but someone who could feel the same ache for something more than the world as it was.
XPixieFeathersX (8:39:44 PM): No knight was needed this time. He could take off the armour that for so long had served a dual purpose.
j4b3rw0x (8:40:33 PM): His armor was protection and prison; here, he could be himself, free from fear of chasing away those he cared about.
XPixieFeathersX (8:41:03 PM): He couldn't chase her away.... after all, it was he who came to find her.
j4b3rw0x (8:41:54 PM): And, though he hated to test her so, he held nothing back. But neither did she. And because of that, he loved her.

Joint Efforts- Volume 1

wingednothing — Sun, 09 Mar 2003 18:27:38 GMT

So Walkabout and I decided on IM to write together, each of us taking a line. To start there are three of these joint efforts to share.... there may be more...

XPixieFeathersX (7:58:09 PM): Why is it that everytime I close my eyes....
j4b3rw0x (7:58:58 PM): ...I feel as if I'm falling in space, searching for someone?
XPixieFeathersX (7:59:31 PM): Probably because I am, I supose.
j4b3rw0x (8:00:39 PM): I have been for years, though I don't always realize it.
XPixieFeathersX (8:01:54 PM): It's like you don't always remember that hideous scar, until some child points and asks their mother why you are so ugly. It's easy to forget one is alone until reminded of it.
j4b3rw0x (8:03:34 PM): And even when you're not alone, you feel it, knawing inside you and making the world a little less colorful, the laughter a little less real, happiness just a little further away.
XPixieFeathersX (8:04:47 PM): Because alone is a relative term.
j4b3rw0x (8:05:56 PM): And sometimes it's not enough to just be with people; sometimes it has to be one person.
XPixieFeathersX (8:06:59 PM): I'm not talking soul mate here folks, just someone.... special, as corny as that may sound.
j4b3rw0x (8:08:24 PM): Someone to walk next to you, take you at face value, trust you to accept them without reservation.
XPixieFeathersX (8:09:13 PM): Someone you can fall on your ass in front of, and sure, they might laugh, but you know it will be with you, and not at you.
j4b3rw0x (8:11:00 PM): Someone you can flirt with and mean it and know that all the games and bullshit are left bahind when you look into each other's eyes.
XPixieFeathersX (8:11:40 PM): Maybe that's why I did it. No excuses, but I can't help but wonder how much the lonliness attributed....
j4b3rw0x (8:15:27 PM): ...but then, no excuse was ever needed with us. Apologies were for other people.

wingednothing — Sat, 08 Mar 2003 05:11:57 GMT

A friend of mine said that I have the power to raise an Oni with his name. For those of you who don't know the reference, it takes a Shugenja (wizard, magic user, wiseman, etc.) of considerable power to call an Oni (demon). And you can gain power over the Oni by giving it a name and linking it with a living person. That disturbs me.... and it's hard to explain why that distrubs me without sounding crazy. Some people who read this might understand, some more than others....

It smelled like blood and fire. Whoever said that demons smelled like brimstone didn't know what they were talking about. In fact, I wouldn't even know he was a demon if he hadn't just told me. Only the smell would have given it away, and not everyone can even smell it. If I kissed him right now it wouls taste the same, burning metals on my tongue. Memories stir and I stare up into eyes that were oh so red a moment before, but as he solidifies in this place they fade and soften into a far more human green. Cats' eyes are green, a man's eyes aren't. You know that a demon doesn't say thank you, it sounds far too mundane and yet spouting biblical nonsense isn't their style either. Just like everyone else in the spiritual world, this one seemed to be trying to shake of the stigma of what he was. Demons don't belong in polite, twenty-first century society. Though he's going to try.... and I invited him. Damn it. No, he says, it's too late for that. You have already damned yourself.

Hmm.... this may turn into more.... we shall see.

Phalyn comes to life.

mishlof — Fri, 07 Mar 2003 14:21:43 GMT

with my own life hitting a low note, I am happy to see Phalyn may rise from the ashes, to be honest i had forgotten about this wayward son until now.
---

alone in a sea of friends
sad in a room of joy
joyful in a room of sad
friends with a sea of loneliness

---

"No man is a failure who has friends"
-It's a Wonderful Life
"It's better to Burn out than to fade away"
-Highlander

walkabout — Fri, 07 Mar 2003 09:45:42 GMT

Wow, one person posts and I suddenly remember that this group exists. No poetry today, not that I feel like typing anyway, but a random jumble of impressions that resemble thought. I blame sleeplessness.

There comes a point, sitting in the darkness alone, where time ceases to mean anything. Deadlines are years away, and suddenly the shadows seem familiar, like they're the same old companions from nights long past filled with regret and that sad, furious despair. Nothing happens now, but the wakefullness now that the spirit is no longer fully strong is harder to bear, and the urge to sleep and dream and forget is so strong. Instead, I stare at the screen, trying to remember why it is I feel this, and when it was I first felt it, and why it is my eyes sting with tears for the person I used to be.

Maybe I'm just getting too old for this all-nighter shit. Or maybe I've got too much to do these days without really accomplishing anything. Or maybe, in those younger nights, I gave so much that now I have so little left when I need it. Maybe.

Maybe, I can learn to get it back.

Amazed

wingednothing — Fri, 07 Mar 2003 07:21:10 GMT

I think that it is utterly amazing that I manage to find this little community and lo and behold, one of my friends is already a member. ::shrug::

Darkness. Nightmares are one thing, but daymares just shouldn't be. They don't play by the rules. When the sun rises you are safe. Once the alarm rings in the morning you are protected until you turn the lights off again and reset the infernal little beeping machine. There is nothing to save you from a daymare, no alarm clock to snap you out of it. Nothing to take your mind off of the terror and tremors. There comes a point where all of the self control and tears will not push the terror back into the darkness.A point where it spills out into the rest of your life. What is worse, is knowing why. Why you have the nightmares and why you have the daymares.... but until now you were able to keep them in the dark were they belong. What do you do when the dreams become more of a reality than you are? Where is that line where this life and that one meet and mix? Are we really here, or are we in someone elses dream. I don't know. But if we are.... can I be your dream?

sorry, but I try to write somethine, anything everyday, and I decided to type it here instead of into my silly little book :)

So, hello everyone, I'm new.

agardenafter — Mon, 23 Sep 2002 16:26:03 GMT

I rather stumbled here and thought that it looked like somewhere I would be comfortable spending time. I personally am very critical of my work and everyone else's, if you don't believe me look at the reviews I post of fanfiction.net. Anyway, I am Noriko, sometimes called Avari or if in one of my many darker moods Belial. I don't have a poem really to put here so this is the best I can to at the moment to go around the mamoth case of writer's block I have.

Words are power
Lies or truth they really are the same

Strip there of their validity
Yet their streangth remain

Looking for any Ideas

mishlof — Mon, 21 Jan 2002 04:08:11 GMT

I have noticed more ppl have added Phalyn to their lists.
Great!

Now I have neglected this site for a while (Had started it up just before I hit a really hard party in life....still working on it, but a bit better for now.)

So currently looking for any poems of images to add a splash for now, please feel free to post other ideas, or questions.

Please breath life into this dead corpse (Oh how Gawth)

walkabout — Mon, 05 Nov 2001 21:39:24 GMT

New to this group, but figured I'd give it a shot. Especially if Phalyn is lonely....
Below is a piece I wrote a while back. I thought it'd fit.

Been driving myself mad for far too long
Been staring at the sun too hard
Been walking the miles but going nowhere
So tired, caught off guard

Seen too many late nights turn to morn
Heard too many last goodbyes
Felt the distance grow while I walked alone
Learned to curse the sunrise

Running on empty is hard on the mind
I ache with it day by day
I've been turning away for all this time
There's got to be some other way

So as summer dies and the cold wind blows
I feel my strength return
And as a cold shadow through the winter nights
My soul will always burn

Phalyn is Lonely...

mishlof — Thu, 18 Oct 2001 20:50:58 GMT

Please and a short story, image or stuff..

Place it for friends only if you want.

Sigh....

Writing....

mishlof — Fri, 28 Sep 2001 08:08:28 GMT

Giving up on my "Creative Poetic Style" for it does not read as well as I'd like it to, or it needs redefining. I was encouraged in College by one of my teachers, she liked the passion I could place in my work. and compared me to some feminist writers (I still to this day am not sure how to take that.)

Very unique idea that I am working on now, it has been "Haunting" me since I first had the concept a few days ago. Not my first, have had 2 other ideas (One great Idea I would still like to Co-Write with my X rathyen).

Other note

mishlof — Sat, 22 Sep 2001 23:30:51 GMT

I will post a story that I had written for 'Villains In Litrature" a Great English Course I took in College, I had no real title but "The Beast". It is late and will find it out tomorrow.