Not that you wanted...

...another inexplicable poem (BTW: one below isn't too heinous. I need to trim the beginning, play with indentation of the second half, show it to the MFCers...passable, though. Makes me want to draw that image - really neat image. Yes, precious, or do a whole lot of photo-maniuplations to make it even better. Yaaay for digital cameras and lost-but-found Adobe Photoshop Elements [which one still has to upload]).

But here it is anyway! BWA-hahahahhahahahahha!

A public service announcement: You actually don't have to read my blog, you know.

(Huh, I wonder what the blogs of Sylvia Plath or T. S. Eliot would have been like. Did they keep journals? I enjoy reading blogs somewhat, but I became utterly bored reading one diary of a girl in the Civil War. Could have just been a bad selection, though. And we all digress togeTHEEEER!...too bad I can't get musical intonation on this silly blog. Hrumph. Imagine Margaret - shoot, what's her name?! The youngest daughter from Meet Me in St. Louis singing that rather like "I was drunk last night, dear moTHEEEER" and you've got the idea. The LONG and winding rooooooooooad...!)

So without further adieu ;P

~*~

Regard the Scales of Fate

Brought into the hall of hoary-bearded Zeus
By the obliging muses
At Homer's sad behest.

Fate, men call them -
Fate, over which even thunder-fisted Zeus
Hath no command.

Fate, men name them -
Even to our present age
So far from golden dawn.

Within the marble halls
(So soon to crumble!,
Fallen wonders of a fallen world)

A vast array of war-clad men:
Cleric's collar, poet's ink-stained brow,
Scientist in vestal whiteness;

Urania's divining bead-strung slaves;
Clio's train, the good earth forsaken
For digging in each other's barren mines;

Now smug Calvin, Darwin with finch
In strangle-grip; Freud with close-held dreams
To add upon the scales;

Wagner and Brunhilda; Katherine and Heathcliff;
And others who claimed the cold and distant stars
As their portion in the scales of Fate;

Husband gone to find himself;
Wanton wife; youth whose lust cannot be sated;
Politician with a crafty bow

And speech of greater craft and little depth;
Stock-broking fatalists; weathermen's
Definitive forecast; and the long line

Of senseless thralls to black and toothed Anubis,
Whose own scale held the hearts of men
And judged them still on jewels and stature.

Fate, they name these scales
Fate, not will - nor yet (oh horrific truth!)
Faint will - but Fate, that great

Name to shirk self-condemnation.
No will, but senseless, ceaseless action
Willed by denial of the will.

Upon the left-most scale perceive
The offerings, the excuses, the theorums
And "forces," the urges (and demi-urges),

The crises, the agonies, indifferences,
Indecisions, dreams, hysterias,
Predestinations (and righteous fear),

The hope for salvation in the midst of sin,
The declaration of one's own goodness
In the very face of fact.

The scale weighs down beneath the
Innumerable neurosis, the foregone conclusions,
The strawmen and the hollowed chests.

And upon the rightmost scale?
Naught.
Zeus hath no power there.

Upon the rightmost scale?
Naught.
No man dares to tip the balance

And upset the teetering list of calumnies,
Lest they topple into the hearthfire
Before the god-father's feet.

Regard Zeus stand,
Regal and magnificent,
A terror to behold,

Crumbling marble,
Chipped flesh,
Immobile lips

Immobile heart
And his will likewise immobile -
He cannot tip the scales of Fate...

He wills not tip the scales of Fate.

Child finger raised
Walking up impossible stairs
Of air and nothingness

Flight of fancy, yet rising still
To where the rightmost scale
Lifts into the lofty heavens.

Here is his domain.
Smiling dimples, he brushes dimpled palm
Upon the empty scale -

And all the mean excuses, the petty sins and
Leering songs and theorums
Lift upwards to the sky

Upward where it might be seen,
And there more truly judged.

Not "what will be, will be"
The sorry song of fickle Fate -
But what Will be.

~*~

Hmmm, that didn't come out at all right. Drat. Meh meh meh. That's what I get for trying to overextend without proper warm-up. Needs to be tightened up and a different format. ...I was about to write a variance. I can't think of anything. Meh. Well, it's at least (potentially) more productive than freecell!

Mood: Drat.
Music: Pirates of the Caribbean (spelling thanks to Jules who's keeping me company in utter silence. There's friendship! :D)
Thought: I had one...nnnngh...I had one! Gah. Sorry, folks.
Site: Check out Therese, a forthcoming movie about St. Therese of Liseux. Looks good!

There had to be ONE! And yippee! One of my favorite characters!

Discworld: Which Ankh-Morpork City Watch Character are YOU?
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...or two... Terry Pratchett's addictive and I'm OK, I read him all night, I read him all day, I wish he'd write quicker in his series, because otherwise I'll have to bite his kneeeeees!


You are Ponder Stibbons.
Often ignored and very intelligent, you like to
study things and find interest in the
scientific. As a child, you probably had hours
of fun playing with boring things in boxes that
read 'hours of fun' on the lid.


Which Discworld Wizard Are You?
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THIS deserves a standing ovation! You know that awesome moment when Aragorn enters the Golden Hall, throwing open both doors at once in slo-mo while shaking back his long hair? Yeah (...good scene...), well nothing, I mean NUFFIN has yet matched Errol Flynn entering Prince John's feasting hall with an antlered deer upon his shoulders. HA! Woo-HOO! Yeah, there's Robin Hood! Beat 'em up, Robbie boy! (Golly, I love that movie. I should watch it again. *sigh*)


You are Classic Robin Hood. Errol Flynn Robin
Hood. No matter how grand others may be you
are the original best. Fencing, fighting, etc.
And True Love. Yay!


A Robin Hood, are you?
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What a timely interruption! Stupid movie, but who can beat Errol? Beyond which, this was a well done quiz. Are you not grateful, oh my darling minio...aherm...bretheren, that I have set forth to find FUN quizzes (with pics ;). A tyran...High Tzarin...'umble servant's work is never done.


You are Captain Blood! A gallant and gentlemanly
pirate, your quest is for a higher goal than
treaure and victory in battle. You have
accomplished much and are destined for much
more. Grand work of it, lad.


Are you a Pirate?
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Drat. I thought it said "Maybe you could be an ARTIST." Missed the con. Unless you mean convention...? ;P But it's a pretty picture of Johnny Depp and piratical (AAAARGH me matey!) and Therefore It Is Good. (Great options as well. Tres amusant!)


Maybe you should be a con-artist. We really don't
need any more of them nowadays...but you could
find your place, with a little ingenuity. You
are clever enough for it with all those
leprechaun traps you used to build. Certainly,
they would have worked if not for the damn dog
next door. Failing that, you really should be
a pirate. 'Cause everyone knows we need more
of them. Film to Rent Tonight: Catch Me if You Can


Your current/future vocation should be or include...
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Because sometims you just have to.... Hint: take a look at the quote on the Lucius Malfoy one - yes! I OWN those bunny slippers! (Not pink, though. That would be evil.)


You are Draco! Draco Malfoy. You are the
embodiment of a good Slytherin (good
Slytherins? Oxymoron, anyone?) in so many
ways. And you are a Malfoy. You were a
Slytherin before Slytherin was a Slytherin,
weren't you?


Which Slytherin Are YOU?
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And last and most appropriately... "Sometimes I wake up Sleepy...."


You are Pretty Sleepy! You have probably stayed up
too late a few too many times and have probably
been waking up to an annoying alarm clock for
several too many years. Poor you.


What Kind of Sleepy Are You?
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