LONG IS THE NIGHT

Long is the night I sit and write of my devotion to the elders. The ones that touched the Crown of Creation and let its existence become known to me and all mankind.

I fill my chalice with blood red wine and fall into a trance as moon and star dance upon the surface of my nectar of the gods, the elixir that loosens the tongue and frees the mind. The ceremony has begun. I dip my writing instrument into the ink and gently set my hand to rest upon the parchment. The wind, whispers of those masters of yesterdays, slowly sets my quill into a rhythmic dance and leaves trails of thought in its wake.

With my quill and ink, I reach into darkness

To tame, from the mirror, the vicious beast.

Come forth Mr. Hyde, no Tears, Idle Tears.

It’s Midsummer’s Night, let’s count Bronte’s Stars.

Let’s weave the Knight’s Tale, slay with Sir Gawain.

The Tyger burns bright, Dream Within a Dream.

The Faerie Queen laughs, as Jabberwock howls

Grendel comes seeking those who’ve gone a’foul.

Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind an Ode to Solitude.

The Darkling Thrush might sing of morning dew.

Oh! The Last Duchess, She Walks In Beauty

a Meeting At Midnight, is This Poet’s Dream.

Your whispers are heard, and etched in my mind.

Your blood’s in my ink, your breath in my lines.

Thank you my many Masters!

I keep your spirits alive!

© July 31 & Aug 1, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Emotional Pendulum

I know a sadness, a grief, an emptiness. Many days I sit so empty and wonder "why." All the beauty and depth of life is drowned in anguish. And it is in that pit that I remember: the deeper I allow myself fall, the longer the climb back to the surface of sanity. The only thing that keeps me going is the pendulum effect of emotions. The further one swings in one direction, the higher you will counter-swing in the other. The periodic motion of emotion is constant, but certain situations can be shortened or lengthened by adjusting the amount of thread you allow yourself. If you are scared, you allow little lead, so the magnitude of the beat is shortened. If you are gung-ho and allow a great amount of slack, the displacement and beat will be far more reaching.

The gravity of any situation pulls you back from the extreme plateau upon which you dwell and completes the period. A beat becomes two. A pivot soon redirects your inertia and has you finding a new perimeter, but there is a restoring force that slows your swing into the opposite realm. If leaving a beat of pain behind, the slower the entrance into love’s beat once equilibrium is reached. The deeper the love becomes the more intense a pain if lost. The sadder a moment, the more joyful a satisfaction can become on the rebound. And so on…

To understand any emotion fully, one must also experience the opposite. 

Remember: The darker the night, the brighter the fire.

© July 31, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

NOTE: Through the physics of perpetual motion, one must experience both the positive and negative swing of the pendulum to maintain a proper balance. So, do not fear great pain, because great love is an equal beat away.

Daily ponderings

Intelligence is what you learn in a book. Wisdom is the sense in which you separate thought from emotion. Logic is the reasoning between intelligence and wisdom. ~ 2013 DBC

TO YOU

I have been consumed by solar flames
And frozen within the Plutonian realm
The winds of time have left their scars
And I embrace it all.

I have fallen into the pits of Helheim
And soared to the heights of Valhalla
Dined with the heroes of old
And I remember it all.

I have sat upon the summit of greatness
Walked through the valley of shadows deep
Lingered in the Forest of Fae
And I cherish it all.

I have juggled a thousand thoughts at once
Teetered upon a thin line of words
Dissected a single word to create anew
And I craft it all.

I have roamed the stone halls of a castle
Wander aimless in streets of sorrow
Wondered what it all was for
And I stoppered it all


I written a thousands words of love
Spoken and whispered them time and again
Burned with a passion of blinding fire
And I offer it all…

                              ...to you

© Nov 11, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

WHEN I FIRST SAW YOU

There is a force stronger than magic,
pulling me into the darkness of night.
The music beckons me to follow,
and enter a dream between the light.
The rhythm of the trance breathes,
essence of jasmine and rose oils.
Offering a hint of time forgotten,
caressing my weak and weary soul.
I try to fight the might of destiny,
and break the spell that binds.
Failing to comprehend the strings,
that guide my feet and hands.
No jinn bottle in the sand,
to hide within the folds of the day.
No destination on a flying carpet,
I am falling away from fate.
Then I see her in the distance,
swaying with the desert winds.
Now I know the power was love;
the heart is where this story begins.

© Dec 28, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

THE CROSSING

You are in my arms, yet not here
I feel your whispers caress my skin,
The sun above says you are not there,
the waxing moon agrees you are no sin.

Entranced I fall into a quiet rhythm
as time marches on and sets the beat
The elasticity of this moment reforms
moments remembered touch others forget.

The day submits to night, as I prepare
crossing the threshold to enter the fires.
I dream of your soft breath and kisses
engulfing me within my own desires.

You step from between the folds of dreams
and offer the dance of flame and wind.
As I move to become one with the rhythm
I forget where I end and you begin.

Forever is lost, yet trapped in a moment
each tear we offer, a lifetime past
The world as we knew it no longer exists
we’ve set aside humanity’s mask..

...and we dance.

© Jan  3, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

For my Muse, my Erato, my inspiration, my love...

8/5 of life

I’ve rolled the stone of Sisyphus
time and time again.
Tried to gather all the secrets
hidden in the wind.
Whispered words passed through the ages
left to lead us all:
“The hidden key to life is love;
every wall will fall.”

Painted beauty fades slow in time
seen by naked eye.
Within the spoken art of words
golden eggs reside.
Nature speaks through the wind and fires,
cleanses with the rain.
All that’s hidden will be revealed,
remnants from the pain.

I sold my soul then bought it back
genius to the trade.
Wandered through the deep night of day,
watched the darkness fade.
I then held a farthing candle
to the midnight sun.
Yet, all the madness of my world
never came undone.

And as my sun begins to set,
yours begins to rise.
The things I found within my world,
offered from your eyes.
The beauty of all creation,
begins with your smile.
Dreams that taunt my reality,
were you all the while.

© Feb 25, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

to touch your soul

Touching your body sparks embers of lust.
Touching your heart fans the flames of love.
But touching your soul consumes with the raging fires of inspiration.

Every element of your existence
is engulfed in the passion of my craft.
I spill ink for days on end and watch
as the parchment burns with a mere touch of my quill.
Each page hold a lifetime of love.
Each drop of pigment
encompasses a story of its own.
Each moment; an eternity, contains.
All lost to the vacuous flames of life.

I quickly sweep the ash into my inkwell of genius/madness and continue.

Eternal thoughts drive mortal actions.
Far into the chaotic realm of madness.
Will it end?
Only when the perfect combination
of letters and words are found;
those that keep wax from melting,
poison from devouring,
and breath from fading.

The sighs of forgotten sounds
give birth to speaking with no words.
Those gently whispered harmonics
that gift you the immortality
of not just a singularity,
but an entire constellation.
You are heaven.

© May 25, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic
NOTE: words are my own,  photo is a random internet find.

WORDS WITHOUT WORDS

A smile in France “sourire”
A laugh in Spain “reir”
A holding of hands in England
A kiss in Czech “polibek”
A whisper in Denmark “hviske”
A love in Italy “amore”
A gaze in Holland "staren"
A hug in Israel "לחבק"
A promise in love "♥"

It matters not where we stand
Or what language we speak
As long as our hearts are one
We need not speak at all…

Jan 20, 2013

Returning To Sea

The wrath of time has silenced the heart,
my eyes no longer see.
The beauty of life that bloomed at dawn;
ash, by dusk, at these feet.
Adrift in the storm and lost in thought,
the winds no longer sing.
Gales now destroy the love once whispered;
shattered by echoes’ ring.
Shadows of mem'ries hide in the mist,
taunting with lullabies.
Dancing in and out of my conscience,
replacing truths with lies.
Timbers are fractured and sails are torn,
Davy Jones is waiting.
Into the waters, seeking their depths,
pain now slowly fading.

© July 22, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Waking thoughts 7/21/2013

I have lived many lifetimes, touched many souls and had many touch mine, roamed the corridors of the heavens lost to some men, created new pathways for all mankind, and died to live and now live to die.
I have mastered the art of "becoming." Sat quietly as a rock, flowed smoothly as a country brook, left my mark like a howling wind upon a mesa, and lit up the emptiness like a nova.
Sadly, the element I seek most plays a celestial game of cat and mouse with my esse. The lost language from the temple of love, where mortal words fall to dust beneath the melodic whispers and ensconcing caresses of the eye upon another. I know it exists. Memories linger, yet cower in shadows. Afraid of being reborn into this world of mortal greed, lust, and violence. Perhaps it belongs not in this realm.

Time

My spectral weave is deep in the shadows where many fear tread. That is where the strongest thread of love yet discontent sit withered in the forgotten expanse of time. But then again, what is time? Parameters drawn by the conclusions of those that thought before you and I took corporeal form. Alas and anon, the truth as we care to craft it will be look upon and questioned by those of wisdom that do follow. And then again again, have our suggestions not been heard, or not yet thought? Crafty beast this "time" creature is. Master and understand its depth and magnitude and one should rule everlasting.

 © July 20, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

NOTE: photo is random internet find

The Chase

I run from things not out of fear, but out of compassion for the pursuer! I know the ecstasy of the chase. There is desire, longing, passion, and life within the chase. A purpose. A need. An emptiness that burns with the expansive cold of the void. And then the elevated sense of self-worth after the catch. The longer the hunt the more intense the pleasure. The chase offers the hidden element of life that would otherwise perish with the lack of want. I feel I should allow others to enjoy it as much as I.

~ DBC 2013

NOTE: illustration - Lawrence Beall Smith's "The Chase"

I am a writer

Some say being a writer is easy, others claim it to be difficult. I think of it as a wonderful enigma, so easy and yet so difficult. The "words" part is easy; the decision of what "subject" you write of is the difficulty. There is a sea of thought in which to pull from.

I wade in the pool of dreams daily with my thoughts in the shimmering waters. As the currents change, the flow and the shapes and sizes of the small eddies differ moment to moment. My desire to write a tale of each entity stirs so much emotion that I find it difficult to focus on one singular manifestation. Oh the madness...

I sit back and reflect, only to find the task even more challenging. My thoughts cascading like a waterfall. Individual ideas represented by a single strand of water. I do not see a single flow of water, but a body of thousands of strands of liquid identities. The one to grab and focus upon is the challenge.

It is not just water, the clouds in the sky, or the woman sitting next to me that stirs my desire to write to no end. Everything known and unknown brings me to this chasm. Crossing is a new adventure each time, because each trip is its own and worthy of its own description. Where do I start? Oh where? Understanding is the starting point. Not just comprehension, but the act of becoming...
To comprehend the mechanics of anything, you must become that thing. The mind's eye must focus on the anatomical make-up of the subject. Acknowledge each individual molecule. Accept the existence of the known and the unknown. Open your being and enter the desired target. Feel it breath, move, live. Grasp the concept. Morph. Do not think...transform. Humble yourself. Become other than what you are, for a moment. Then you will be fully capable of understanding. That is the first step in receiving the gift of creation. Once the journey begins, it has endless possibilities. 
I have seen places you never may be, and walked upon sands that are now seas. Watched mountains crumble into beauty, and flowers turn to rust. I flew without wings to worlds uncharted, and strolled down unknown streets. I've stood at the edge of time and gaze across forever, even embraced immortality and release it back to time.  I can take you to these places, but you must take my hand. Trust me, I am a writer.

© Autumn 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

ZIMMERMAN, NOT GUILTY?

OK people! It is REALLY time to wake up and smell the crap the government is shoveling into your house!
This Zimmerman case ended exactly as the government planned. They WANT racial wars to break out. Another step toward instituting a police state. If we fight amongst each other and kill each other, that condones their killing us. Genocide in protective attire. It is what they want to do. The media sells hate and the masses buy it.

There is a BIG shift in power coming soon. The elitists hate that we are coming together spiritually and will do anything to divide us. Every few years they will instigate the “whites” or the “blacks” into a rage. And every time, it works. It is time to put a stop to the madness.

Let me give you a few examples:

March 3, 1991 Rodney King beating gets mass media coverage and incites a riot.
Aug 20, 2008 – A 230 lb black male attacks and chokes an 85-year-old woman in an elevator. Little media coverage and whites scream “reverse racism.”
Aug 2011 -Hundreds of racist Black youths attack Whites at Wisconsin State Fair. Again, little media coverage and whites scream “reverse racism.”
July 13, 2013 Zimmerman found not guilty. World media coverage and Lord knows what this will bring.

IT IS PLANNED! WAKE UP AND LOOK! DON’T FALL PREY TO THE HATE!

The weak minded sheeple will fall prey to theses fanatical ideologies, while the strong minded will stand strong and we will defeat this evil tyranny that is brainwashing and destroying our world!!!!!!!!!!!!!