Writhing and longing to break out,
The black beast is eating him alive.
Crazed he let out a calloused shout,
Falling for that beastly raving drive,
It consumes him and fills his lung,
And a silent scream fills the darkness.
Wounds where he had been stung
Break down the cast iron buttress
He had binding his lonely heart.
Red life pouring warm and swift,
Letting the fell darkness depart
Will be that monster's only gift.
Monday, April 5, 2010
The Last of the Giants
This is a tale of ages past
Of evils long ago.
Of the giants, I am last
My name is Delfello.
I remember well the age of men
The age of raging hate
Dark times they were for giants then
And a pain to enumerate
Once we were a noble race
High standing in the hills
Then men had a change of face
And boons now were ills
My father fought to save my kin
A power to behold
But die he did to hunting men
And all was dark and cold
Lost we went without a guide
Hunted without pause
Grieving then my mother died
Hunted without cause
Followed by the fiendish hunt
Running witless, scared
Shelter’s comfort we did want
But stopping no one dared
The chase lasted for many a day
Then in a fury fell
I crushed the men as pots of clay
For a moment all was well
But more they sent to hunt my kind
My sister they did kill
Their bones, to dust, I did slowly grind
Of hate I had no fill
I found the last of my race
In a valley wide
Soon a battle we would face
Avenging those that died
I found them all standing round
A fire blazing tall
Downcast faces to the ground
Their names I now recall:
Felgrir, terror of the distant east
Kelt, the tallest of my race
Wergen, known only as the savage beast
And Nos, weilder of the mace
All of them of heartache drank
Drowning in the swoon
All of them of malice stank
Waning as the moon
Then angered, roused, we stormed out
To crush and kill the men
Curses, battle cries, we’d shout
And kill and kill again
Sadly all those there but I
Died that fateful day
And now I remember with a sigh
All that now is grey.
Of evils long ago.
Of the giants, I am last
My name is Delfello.
I remember well the age of men
The age of raging hate
Dark times they were for giants then
And a pain to enumerate
Once we were a noble race
High standing in the hills
Then men had a change of face
And boons now were ills
My father fought to save my kin
A power to behold
But die he did to hunting men
And all was dark and cold
Lost we went without a guide
Hunted without pause
Grieving then my mother died
Hunted without cause
Followed by the fiendish hunt
Running witless, scared
Shelter’s comfort we did want
But stopping no one dared
The chase lasted for many a day
Then in a fury fell
I crushed the men as pots of clay
For a moment all was well
But more they sent to hunt my kind
My sister they did kill
Their bones, to dust, I did slowly grind
Of hate I had no fill
I found the last of my race
In a valley wide
Soon a battle we would face
Avenging those that died
I found them all standing round
A fire blazing tall
Downcast faces to the ground
Their names I now recall:
Felgrir, terror of the distant east
Kelt, the tallest of my race
Wergen, known only as the savage beast
And Nos, weilder of the mace
All of them of heartache drank
Drowning in the swoon
All of them of malice stank
Waning as the moon
Then angered, roused, we stormed out
To crush and kill the men
Curses, battle cries, we’d shout
And kill and kill again
Sadly all those there but I
Died that fateful day
And now I remember with a sigh
All that now is grey.
---
I wrote this senior year of highschool, memorized it, dressed up, and presented it as my Great Books project.
Ballad of Sam (unfinished)
Summer’s fair breezes blew
There was no sign of ill
The sky was a peaceful hue
As the sun rose over hill
The trees to one another sung
The birthday song of one
Round and round his mother swung
The Gaffer’s brand new son
Samwise Gamgee faithful true
He grew up fast and strong
With a love for all the things that grew
He gardened all day long
To Bilbo’s house off he’d run
For stories of the land
He’d sit and listen until the sun
Had set beyond the sand
The elven tales Sam loved best
And little did he know
He’d see that fair folk’s mighty crest
When to Rivendell he’d go
Before Sam knew it, he was in a plot
He was spying on his friend
It was almost ruined when he go caught
But he vowed his aid he’d lend
Then one night he woke in fright
A terrible dream he’d had
A rider fell and as black as night
Had stabbed old Bilbo’s lad
Sam was stronger than he thought
He set off in Frodo’s train
Through the Old Forest he fought
Safety he wished to gain
[The End...]
There was no sign of ill
The sky was a peaceful hue
As the sun rose over hill
The trees to one another sung
The birthday song of one
Round and round his mother swung
The Gaffer’s brand new son
Samwise Gamgee faithful true
He grew up fast and strong
With a love for all the things that grew
He gardened all day long
To Bilbo’s house off he’d run
For stories of the land
He’d sit and listen until the sun
Had set beyond the sand
The elven tales Sam loved best
And little did he know
He’d see that fair folk’s mighty crest
When to Rivendell he’d go
Before Sam knew it, he was in a plot
He was spying on his friend
It was almost ruined when he go caught
But he vowed his aid he’d lend
Then one night he woke in fright
A terrible dream he’d had
A rider fell and as black as night
Had stabbed old Bilbo’s lad
Sam was stronger than he thought
He set off in Frodo’s train
Through the Old Forest he fought
Safety he wished to gain
[The End...]
Ballad of Bombadil
Long ago when the world was young
There lived a gleeful fellow.
He had a boisterous noisy lung
And nonsense he would bellow:
“Hey merry dol de derry dol
De-da de-do de-dillo,
Old Tom he is a merry soul,
That old Bombadillo.”
He would run swiftly through the trees
Unhindered and quite free,
Swimming through the leafy seas
He’d help all that he’d see.
One day a darkness fell upon
His humble forest low.
The sun did not break the dawn.
Thus came Old Man Willow.
He would extend his leafy bough
And raise his knobbly root
For running free he’d not allow
He’d catch Tom by the boot
But Tom was quick with foot and song
He nimbly danced on through.
Then he bellowed out loud and long
With power strong and true.
“Stay back Old Man Willow tree
Do not come so near.
For I must run fast and free
As the panting deer.”
The rooted-fear at his voice then shrunk
And ambled here and there.
But still he’d slowly bait his trunk
For he greatly loved to scare.
And now that Tom has made it known,
He’s lord of the forest there.
No willowman or evil grown
Can harm a single hair.
There lived a gleeful fellow.
He had a boisterous noisy lung
And nonsense he would bellow:
“Hey merry dol de derry dol
De-da de-do de-dillo,
Old Tom he is a merry soul,
That old Bombadillo.”
He would run swiftly through the trees
Unhindered and quite free,
Swimming through the leafy seas
He’d help all that he’d see.
One day a darkness fell upon
His humble forest low.
The sun did not break the dawn.
Thus came Old Man Willow.
He would extend his leafy bough
And raise his knobbly root
For running free he’d not allow
He’d catch Tom by the boot
But Tom was quick with foot and song
He nimbly danced on through.
Then he bellowed out loud and long
With power strong and true.
“Stay back Old Man Willow tree
Do not come so near.
For I must run fast and free
As the panting deer.”
The rooted-fear at his voice then shrunk
And ambled here and there.
But still he’d slowly bait his trunk
For he greatly loved to scare.
And now that Tom has made it known,
He’s lord of the forest there.
No willowman or evil grown
Can harm a single hair.
Broken Toaster
I burned the toast again.
I can never get it right.
All they want is simple
Golden crunchy toasted bread,
But try as I might,
Do what I will,
It always comes out wrong.
They put the bread in,
They take the ash out.
What good is a broken toaster?
They are going to throw me out!
I can never get it right.
All they want is simple
Golden crunchy toasted bread,
But try as I might,
Do what I will,
It always comes out wrong.
They put the bread in,
They take the ash out.
What good is a broken toaster?
They are going to throw me out!
How My Pencil Danced
Another one of my poems from long ago:
My pencil dances by.
Filled with shapes and imagery
Of things that crawl and fly.
I saw it dace the tune of horse,
Four legged creature tall.
Light from which the mane was source
Illuminating all
It skipped around a battle field.
With reverence it did draw
Warriors whose lives were sealed
By fate’s rending claw.
Down a dragon’s spine it twirled.
Across vast wings it flew.
It sighed and wisps of smoke they curled
Obscuring dragon’s view.
It saw a fairy while dancing there
And gave two gifts of love,
A wondrous dress for it to wear
And wings to grace a dove.
Sky and sea and earthen floor
My pencil it did dance.
It danced until it danced no more,
It died it seemed by chance.
I thank you pencil, for your time
And your dance of glee.
It was for you I wrote this rhyme,
To praise your filigree
Wilted Lily (Ecclesiastes 6:3-6)
"A man may have a hundred children and live many years; yet no matter how long he lives, if he cannot enjoy his prosperity and does not receive proper burial, I say that a stillborn child is better off than he. It comes without meaning, it departs in darkness, and in darkness its name is shrouded. Though it never saw the sun or knew anything, it has more rest than does that man - even if he lives a thousand years twice over but fails to enjoy his prosperity. Do not all go to the same place?" - Ecc. 6:3-6
Empty headed and motionless lies
My Lily not yet grown but out of time.
Nothing done, yet punished for unknown crime.
Before the light can touch your eyes
The darkness takes, and grimly fills
My heart with emotions, bitter and sad.
At least you left without feeling life’s ills
And peaceful now, grow Lilies to be had
By all who chance to see thine memorial mark.
But parting still, unknown, is dark.
“Vanity, Vanity!” David’s seed once said.
For what more does the wise man have than the fool?
When they reach the end of their fate-spun spool
They both are nothing, they both are dead.
Oh, my wilted Lily, your life was naught,
And yet, greater than the richest king.
For you, my flower, were never taught
The discontents of life, never suffering.
When my thread is cut I hope to see
You in raiment white covered in divine glory.
---
This is a poem I wrote in fall of 06, I believe.
This poem is dedicated to my sister Lily and brother Jedediah who I never got to meet in this life.
Empty headed and motionless lies
My Lily not yet grown but out of time.
Nothing done, yet punished for unknown crime.
Before the light can touch your eyes
The darkness takes, and grimly fills
My heart with emotions, bitter and sad.
At least you left without feeling life’s ills
And peaceful now, grow Lilies to be had
By all who chance to see thine memorial mark.
But parting still, unknown, is dark.
“Vanity, Vanity!” David’s seed once said.
For what more does the wise man have than the fool?
When they reach the end of their fate-spun spool
They both are nothing, they both are dead.
Oh, my wilted Lily, your life was naught,
And yet, greater than the richest king.
For you, my flower, were never taught
The discontents of life, never suffering.
When my thread is cut I hope to see
You in raiment white covered in divine glory.
---
This is a poem I wrote in fall of 06, I believe.
This poem is dedicated to my sister Lily and brother Jedediah who I never got to meet in this life.
Bar Room Economics
This is not mine, I am not sure whose it is originally. Anyway, read it.
----
Suppose that every day, ten men go out for a beer and the bill for all ten comes to $100.00. If they paid their bill in the same unfair way we pay our taxes, it would go something like this:
The first four men (the poorest) would pay nothing.
The fifth would pay $1.
The sixth would pay $3.
The seventh would pay $7.
The eighth would pay $12.
The ninth would pay $18.
The tenth man (The wealthiest) would pay $59.
So, that’s what they decided to do. The ten men drank in the bar every day and seemed quite happy with the arrangement, until one day, the owner threw them the following curve “Since you are all such good customers,” he said, “I’m going to reduce the cost of your daily beer by 20 % (or $20.00).” The drinks for all ten men would now cost just $80.00. The men decided to pay the bill in the same usury way they always did, so:
The first four men were unaffected. They would still drink for free because they were poor.
The remaining six men who always paid realized that the $20.00 savings divided by six equaled $3.33 each, but if they subtracted that from each share:
The fifth man and the sixth man would each end up being paid to drink his beer.
So, the bar owner suggested that it would be fair to reduce each man’s bill by roughly the same amount, and he proceeded to work out the amounts each should pay. And so:
The fifth man, the poorest, like the first four, now would pay nothing and thus would receive a 100% savings.
The sixth man now paid only $2.00, no longer $3.00, a 33% savings
The seventh man now paid only $5.00, down from $7.00, a 28% savings.
The eighth man now paid only 9.00, down from $12.00, a 25% savings.
The ninth man now paid only $14.00, down from $18.00, a 22% savings.
And finally, the tenth man now paid $49.00 instead of $59.00, a 16% savings.
Each of the men was better off than before. Now the first five would drink for free!!
But inside the restaurant, the men began to compare their savings. “I only got a dollar out of the $20 declared the sixth man. He pointed to the tenth man, “but he got $10.00.” The fifth man agreed, “I only got a dollar, too, It’s unfair that the tenth man got ten times what I got.”
“That’s true!!” shouted the seventh man. “Why should he get $10.00 back when I only got two?” “THE WEALTHY GET ALL THE BREAKS!”
“WAIT A MINUTE,” yelled the first four men in unison. “WE DIDN’T GET ANYTHING AT ALL!” “THE SYSTEM EXPLOITS THE POOR!”
As they got angrier, the nine men surrounded the tenth (the wealthiest) and beat him up.
For obvious reasons, the next night the tenth man didn’t show up for drinks, so the nine remaining sat down and had beers without him. But when it came time to pay the bill, they discovered something very important. They didn’t have enough money between all of them to pay for even half of the bill! And that, ladies and gentlemen, journalists and college professors, is how our tax system works.
The people who pay the highest taxes get the most benefit from a tax reduction. Tax them too much, attack them for being wealthy, and they just may not show up anymore. In fact, they might start drinking overseas where the atmosphere is somewhat friendlier.
For those who understand, no explanation is needed. For those who do not understand, or who choose to not understand, no explanation is possible.
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