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~* Yrolg's Omnibus *~

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Yrolg

Yrolg

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Looking out, with my head supported by this scarlet wood, my hands tied, and a deep razor above my head, I do not fear death.
I look above to the aggravated buildings, leaving against one another for support, and below the beautifully terrazzo court, leading to the berfrei.
I close my eyes as the tenor begins, addressing me; stating my crimes, and the penalties of such crimes. As the last offense is read, I at last look into the crows, gazing at the faces so eager for the closure of such crimes – desperate for something – anything, to lessen the damage to their hearts, minds and should. Looking into their yellowed eyes, their grimaced faces, their tortured heads, I anxiously await an appeasement to the crimes just listed.
Looking out to the crowd, with my head supported by such scarlet wood, my hands tied, and a deep razor falling towards my neck, I do not fear death – for, I am innocent.

06-Apr-2008 01:03:59 - Last edited on 07-Feb-2009 16:09:30 by Yrolg

Yrolg

Yrolg

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I am a queen,
and I am privileged;
For, no more normal am I,
than an exceptional rose.
The Queen of Legend passed,
I know of the stories;
Each story its own tale;
Each tale its own story.

And so it is,
And so it has been,
And so it will be,
Forever more.
For, just as the footprints of men
are washed away with the tide,
The knowledge that they were there,
Still lives on.

06-Apr-2008 01:04:00 - Last edited on 01-Nov-2010 02:09:15 by Yrolg

Yrolg

Yrolg

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I sit here, within my prison, looking upon the procession of horses, carriages, and peasants. Together, they form the last family for whichever poor soul accompanies that casket.
I sit and watch, even rows of men and women, soldiers within the army of grief, marching their beloved to the burial ground; wanting nothing more than to leave this abysmally temperamental world within which we live.
Alongside the dreary and morbid procession through the city, a flock of birds now flies, flaunting that they, the blessed animals, are able to – if only for a moment – escape the deathly hollow of reality; to live their dreams, up and away, isolated from the mortal restrictions of this world.
The hover above the long parade for an instant longer, gloating at their ability to secede, before falling down the wisps of stale wind, settling themselves into the fruit trees which surround my barred window.
Back to their homes, the birds chirp away, singing the beautiful songs of freedom – whatever that term means.
And as the last mourner passes by, slowly adding to the stream of tears which has spread before them, the birds again seem to flaunt their abilities, crescendoing into an imbroglio of a song, singing what that poor soul now had, what I might now only begin to imagine.
Of Freedom.

06-Apr-2008 01:04:01 - Last edited on 07-Feb-2009 16:08:09 by Yrolg

Yrolg

Yrolg

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Mr. Byrde’s Escape

There, within the cell of my soul, I found myself wondering, though to an extent I wish not so much elaboration, the motive of my movement. Indeed the months previous to the voyage I then partook in to this very day, though perhaps lessened in extension, offer unending entreation towards my goal, though of this I know little. Perhaps explanation lies best with the iteration I had heard but a day prior to the catastrophe, heard whilst sifting through the refuse and unending debris remaining of my home so long. I shan’t begin to elaborate unto my devices on such a movement because, should I be perfectly honest with you, I don’t quite yet realize whether or not I myself am aware of them—though with perfect honesty I am able to foretell the imminent downfall of whatever these motives might be.
Perhaps indeed it is the greatest of situational ironies that I sit within this elevator so stopped during my terrestrial descent that I have no option but to again ascend the walls and stairwells of my innermost turmoil and face the portcullis that is my soul’s keep, so entreative of entrance that I shall be damned lest I beg for its drawing, or I shall perish in my motive’s drastic, terrible falling to the earth, crumbled within this isolated steel cage so symbolic of my mind’s detachment. Meditation and its art I know naught of, though I may be insinuative of otherwise, and though I might compel a sort of competence within the relaxation of the body and the inferred communication system between soul, heart, mind and body, I must beg to guarantee that I know so little of these systems that indeed I would be pressed to prevail last in the class, so failed am I. A failure indeed that I have so isolated my being at this precarious position—the top of the world indeed!—and yet have to fully comprehend the ascension thereto. My mind remains different from my heart which indeed lasts itself apart from all else—that of my body as well.

06-Apr-2008 01:06:49 - Last edited on 07-Feb-2009 16:11:26 by Yrolg

Yrolg

Yrolg

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The paralyzation which inflicted itself upon my body was wanten of but one thing, and indeed in this goal it was so prevalent; the affections thereof have only just now begun their descent to benignity and I fail to fully understand the course so far undertaken. The nurse at one point—of course to my deaf ears—uttered nonsense about medicinal properties of the soul and heart, and the benevolence of perseverance. Indeed it was so, nonsense, but perhaps it has yet resonated within my being, within my apoplectic immobility. Perchance that this yet is the motive so derived from the dissemination of will. Truly I shall now confess my total and complete miscomprehension of the entire ordeal.
I must again admit, however, that the influence of my body really matters not. I am a soul free and such is what I shall forever partake to my being, my freedom. Even when so separate from the world and realm as was I during my illness I have never before known the freedom that is therein; even in my entire immobility, I spread my wings and, proverbially some might be led to believe, I think, I spread my wings and through this movement I approached the freedom of forever.

06-Apr-2008 01:06:50 - Last edited on 07-Feb-2009 16:13:59 by Yrolg

Yrolg

Yrolg

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That cage I was locked within crashed to the ground. I don’t much know—though perhaps I could care—to understand fully the implications of this accident. Understand, however, I do for this absolute miracle of misappropriation. When that cage so thrust itself down upon the ground, smiting forever the ascents of the netherealm, I did indeed spread my wings and fly off into the beautiful clouds. Oh yes, not looking but, I entered these clouds dancing with ******* upon their floors when so I achieved. I was quite aware that the structure I had emerged from would eventually decay: already its insides were crumbling. It might yet last another, if a guess I should be begged, forty years, but, just as did my body, it shall eventually fail. I, in my absolute freedom, however, did*’t care. And I am fast coming to the conclusion that this same approach might be best towards my wonderment. My motive, if indeed existent it was, matters little when juxtaposed with the great ending so herein told. And even in my ineptness at the meditation of the mind and soul, I believe that I have now allocated the semblance thereof so destined to me. For who should care of the worries of the mortal when so appreciated here in the wonderful clouds?

06-Apr-2008 01:06:51 - Last edited on 07-Feb-2009 16:14:18 by Yrolg

Yrolg

Yrolg

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It has been an eternity since last I heard the sweet melodic call of your voice, to wake me in your warm embrace. Looking back upon what must have been perpetuity passing, I am still led to wonder how it is that I have managed to live without you. How amazing it is that after such an eternity separate from your comforting embrace, that I still am able to summon forth your image, in my winding voyage. From the sheer beauty of the aspens – how their vermillion foliage reminds me of our autumn voyages—to the beryl sky, so entrancing, as your eyes.
I cannot help but wonder, as I watch the wisps of wind whip at this lake, how you are, my love. For even now, as I write of this beautiful sky, I see approaching a tempest.
There is not a day which passes in which I do not wish you here to comfort me. Even now, as I am enveloped by the zephyrs, long lost to their primordial duty, I wish to be with you.
I hear the thunderclap, o’er my head, and I recall the endless joy and laughter we shared. I see the great bolts of lightning as they raze the beauteous sky, and I see your smile. I feel the water surround me, as I fall through its pristine surface, and I again feel your warm embrace.

06-Apr-2008 01:06:51 - Last edited on 07-Feb-2009 16:14:56 by Yrolg

Yrolg

Yrolg

Posts: 25,296 Sapphire Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
To this idea, I do so hold:
With temperance, within my heart,
Greatest to those whom my ire start,
Here in this hard world of old.
O, it’s just such a ***** notion,
That o’er out fore the ocean,
There seems to be a placid creature,
There which lies and fights so bold.
But with him here, should truth be told,
We were each the person renown,
Each ourselves, yet to each sewn:
An ever-lasting, endless hold.
Joyous, we were: life was hectic,
Yet here I am, apoplectic,
No longer his e’er strong arms,
Into myself inducing fold.
Lonesome, ‘tis here, house long sold,
Fire’s meaning left long away,
For to whom else could I this pray?
That fire’s absence leaves me cold.
The heated, burning, passioned embrace,
Could never hope to try and replace,
That man to which I clearly love,
That man on which I cling and hold.
That once again we might be pulled,
By each other, in our love,
Divine it is – from those above,
And for this notion, I am bold:
That we two might once meet again,
And bring surcease to this, my pain,
There is indeed a life past this,
To this idea, I do so hold.

06-Apr-2008 01:06:52 - Last edited on 07-Feb-2009 16:15:33 by Yrolg

Yrolg

Yrolg

Posts: 25,296 Sapphire Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
Double:
The Ambiguity of Two
“I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to accept that I love you. At even the smallest of rosemary’s presences—oh yes, do I remember how the seeds would envelop your scalp, pouring over me as a hot oil, and just as painful—it would be impossible to not note the great leap my soul gives when even that minute scent, that wispy cloud of winding intoxication weaves its way over to me.”
“You’re not making this any easier.”
“Do you blame me? Here I’ve known you all of my life, and now you’re going to desert me? Who else will be here in this desolate world, this forsaken planet once you leave me? I’ve no family, nor do you. We share a past, but now you’re going to throw it all away, just to ‘protect me’
“You don’t know what it*s like when you’re gone, how when you’ve left, every squeak of the dying vegetation sings to me its pulchritudinous song of infinite loss. You don’t know how every song the fallen, decrepit leaves sing affects me, how the mourning resonates within my soul.*
*Yes I do.”
“Then why are you going to make me endure the remainder of my life weeping at every fallen branch; crippled with the agony of your absence every time the bare, cerulean sky stares at me, mocking my pain?”
“Because I love you.”
“But WHY?”
“Because your future with me here extends only to your immobile arms, so bound and tied that you shall never know the flexibility of freedom.”
“Please, I’m begging you: don’t!”
“An asylum is no place for a man without a problem.”
“Don’t kill me.”
“I must.”

06-Apr-2008 01:07:04 - Last edited on 07-Feb-2009 16:16:47 by Yrolg

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