Illarion.org

#23

And if my failed attempts still bare no fruit,
I cannot put faith into my hands,
And I must search another to dilute,
The force behind my plans.

I'll spare a moment, a month, a year,
I'll make room for happenstance,
I'll pray for something a bit less drear,
I'll make space for chance.

A dismal time when another man is trust,
Nobody wants it, but die they must.

~Brer Beothach~

#24

Looking up the situation with a sense of dread,
As the carrion crows flock to the dead,
Piled up high, sits a proud pigeon,
Crying its caws down to the widgeons.

The pigeons steps down to make room for the crows,
The tongues teared out layed out for the show,
A tail crudely made of flesh,
Torn off of those with letch.

Love's mouth is made quite banal,
But few accounts are found in the annals.

~Brer Beothach~

#25

My place is all set, the chairs are four points,
The table is center and acts as a joint,
The joint does not move and takes quite a force,
Like a hand on a rusted bolt to coerce.

But the wind does often blow quite strong
Enough to create such a wrung,
So the four points move places again,
Named anger, named sorrow, named pain.

The last named for such things, delight
And three of these four chairs have grown trite.

~Brer Beothach~

#26

Varshikar is bare and streets are narrow,
An empty mind, no thoughts to harrow,
Potential's uselessness forced a meek,
Such grand city but always so bleak.


~Brer Beothach~

#27

A liminal beauty with liminal eyes,
Unexplained love Siranis denies,
As nature does, she knows her spot,
The ink is still wet, the medium is not.

The place is known, the lead's the part,
The place is shown, to steal the heart.

~Brer Beothach~

#28

So poetic in imagery, a symbol no doubt,
My name on a gravestone.
Whether by Gods or a morbid Keeper,
My fate now clear, shown.

I do not question these things I see,
All fall right into place.
I do not need further prood then this,
This life is lacking grace.

Saturnine sun shines down on me.
My name is on a grave.

~Brer Beothach~

#29

Oh an anomaly occured today,
On an isle gone astray,
Such sober sighs were heard,
When friendship was so lured.

Oh! Such a somber day of tragedy,
When grave misfortune stalks
A man whose not burdened clearly,
Yet still refuses to walk.

Yes, anomaly is now the norm,
Where aid is given out,
To those whose life is quite the storm,
Subtracted from the lout.

Tragic it may be, but this aid does protest,
The aid itself is friendship and heals the tragedy.
When his acquaintance he did detest,
Then the misfortune became apathy.

For the lout is despised,
And while troubles quite commonplace,
Are therefore amplified,
By apathetic anti-hero...staring at a face.


~Brer Beothach~

#30

Oh cruel fate! What melodrama weaved,
The pleading man asked before asked to leave,
What actions lay before me, sense cannot be made,
Common sense cut short by Calamity's Blade.


~Brer Beothach~

#31

Change of fate, no it does follow path,
A change of pace is much more fitting,
And hoping these things will last,
For knowing these would ease quitting.

~Brer Beothach~

#32

As passing phases wane, old habits incur,
And one can't but query the quandaries,
Aged infers cyclical and writings slur,
A nefarious demon questions the boundaries.

Oh! Demon's generally enter in through my ears,
And slowly slither to my mouth, a passage,
I don't like what I say, I don't like what I hear,
To conjure such trouble through an elder message.

A first cycle finishing through proof of life
Will it continue or end this strife?

~Brer Beothach~

#33

Troubles once reconciled often breed anew,
Perpetually pouring from complex carafe,
Filled till brim of witch's boiling brew,
A troublesome taste to make one quite daft.

And blessings be waxed, amassed on the altar,
Cherished shall be, through confidence or falter.

~Brer Beothach~

#34

Oh, and in light does frequency increase,
When blessed with Your ethereal kiss,
Haste must be made to forgo abandonment,
Enlightened by these short tempi bliss.

Vain wretched wreck, the blame left to self,
To count the large apologies, deserved,
A thousand sorries lie here, incased in ink,
Mistakes made by a man quite absurd.

To be more blunt would cause trauma,
So take as is, to stop my senseless drama.

~Brer Beothach~

#35

In lieu of colloquy or even banter,
To put these rimes to proof,
And so plain-spoken I shall descant,
Possible to stop actions, aloof.

I'll give three days,
No response or parley,
No discourse or even palaver,
There's too much food in my sand.


~Brer Beothach~

#36

Oh, and the Gods' plans do contort,
To shape a story of tragic sorts,
For their greater knowledge may obscure,
To these small lives that we endure.

And the human condition to requite,
Force Gods grant only short respite,
Those deserving shall rest at last,
In their great arms are they cast.

And sorrow stories make one ail,
But repayed to see such beauty as Sweet Meriel.


~Brer Beothach~

#37

Trouble's brew boils over cauldron's crook,
Stirred by men who seek to make,
A complex stew, all set to cook,
Though these chefs have enough to take.

At heart, no peace, so be external,
Therefore create these lands, infernal.

~Brer Beothach~

#38

A paradox created by simply instating,
A cyclical snake that sprung from debating,
And such things as soul, unsettled,
Din together for multiplied they rattle.

Oh! And how tyrants claim to be Godly,
Yet their hordings speak in slurs,
But I speak not of the obvious, clearly,
For these tolls have not been paid!

~Brer Beothach~

#39

As declining dust grazes the ground,
Only few moments to wipe our eyes,
Such time should be taken to be found
A new path on which fate lies.

Though, observations dictates another,
That those are people who keep them closed,
To grab and reach without bother,
To recreate a problem once posed.

Confusing cordials such as power and greed,
A lack of such will soon be filled with need.

~Brer Beothach~

#40

Perpetual pendulum on recession,
Such surveyed activity does lessen
Burdens made from natural sway,
Ponderings on shades of grey.

For balance does not exclude termini,
Simply manifesting from the two,
A middle reached by product combined,
A striking solution one concludes:

Extremes forged to balance ends,
Men are sent in place,
Those seen in similar trends,
Must hold their spot to complement another's grace.

Elara weaves a wicker basket to hold the rare,
So the fibers must not break.

~Brer Beothach~

#42

Once primordial forest shaded by Ronagan,
Now opens wide and shines, lighted by Eldan,
Spotlighted rancorous monster approaches,
His tongue whipping and dripping with poison.


~Brer Beothach~