Fathom’s Qart

We’re nearly done, ladies and gentlemen.
Just have to calm the animal spirit, and we can continue this journey.

I would like to thank Dr. Nasser Hussain for encouraging me to return to this piece and fix the verse and meter.

Au.3.2018
(Ma.20.2019)

I’ll be a while
Because I need to see the sun set
What will we do?
Who am I to ask such a question?
Will we stay two
And you know how I feel about you
You don’t know all the things I could do
I could save me from the twilight…

Thought you were gone
We don’t know how you feel on it too,                                 do you…
And I guess I was right for a moment
And I guess that I should’ve known better                          than to think
Think that I could ever known a moment
What your beautiful soul                                                        Innocence that’s within

Our modesty, temperance                                                       rarely infringed, and

What do I do
Because I really’d hoped to have known                you
And through all of my hands now it                        passed through
I just wish that I’d had my good                                judgement
Because I think about you                                          oftentimes
And I’ll have to find my own way now
And I wonder if where I would find you
And I wonder

If you would love me if I did
Because you don’t always make it                                         when I do
What does it mean
That all my hands

—They have changed since I met you

And now my mind’s turned around                                      I can tell you
And it has been for the best                                                     I can prove you

From the trauma, rethinking;                                                 the pressure, and
How do I know
Do I know which is good which is poor                                and
And I want to ask                                                                       —but
Deals subject to whim                                                              And it comes back to us.
You know I think it’s obvious that
That we are both have a hand in this place
And I said to myself oh how futile
Because you know we both know—                                      we both know—

And did I say I would wait?
And did you hear when I                              called out your name?
“And now what have I done”
I would think on it over and over
Because I really had thought it was over
And then you touched once again,
You know it isn’t too late                               to saw we were wrong
And we know I’ll make sure                         don’t regret it
Don’t regret anything that we’ve done
I’ll make sure that I wait for a moment,
Just don’t wait too long because you know it
Know that if it’s maintained                           then it stays—
And I really don’t know how you see it
But I’d rather we find our own eden
And that maybe some day I would notice

If you walked beneath the treetops

And if I saw that you were walking there
And if were all alone and even if you were not,
I would call out your name.

Daniel Triumph.

I highly suggest you check out the following songs:
Fathoms
Finn Hatches a Plan
In Echoes Forever – SO YOU WANT DELIVERANCE THAT FOURTEEN YEARS COULDN’T BRING?
Addicted to Chaos

This version of Fathom’s Second was created for 3rd year Creative Writing portfolio. The original was created for Luisa, and so was this.

This is, as noted above, nearly the final chapter. I will be taking the fumes of my affection, and likely writing a final act.

If you need more, there’s this.

Wraith Hail (Artifact Edition)

The Demo Tapes Part 2 – Wraith Hail.

To anyone who has read one of the two previous uploads of “Wraith Hail,” please note that this version of the story is quite different.

Due to WordPress’s frustratingly limited formatting options, I should inform you of one thing: the italicized numbers are markers for the endnotes. Scroll down to the bottom to see them.

The more of you that I inspect,

The more of me I see reflect.

And when my excuses were perfect,

Realized I was an object.

I’m in this, here, a room, I have a dictionary I have a bed.

You own with food, water, estate,

And you, your story, takes a twist, the bed is red.

 

Tell me, what was I to you?

I’m a scholar, I know the words.

I just…don’t remember, let jog my mind; open the book:


Concubine

Con”cu*bine (?), n. [F., fr. L. concubinacon- + cubare to lie down,concumbere to lie together, akin to E. cubit.]

  1. A woman who cohabits with a man without being his wife; a paramour.
  2. A wife of inferior condition; a lawful wife, but not united to the man by the usual ceremonies, and of inferior condition. Such were Hagar and Keturah, the concubines of Abraham; and such concubines were allowed by the Roman laws. Their children were not heirs of their father.

It’s funny, isn’t it?

They used to tell me…know your place.

This isn’t my place, is it?

It’s only yours. It is Orion. His name is Orion.

There is a pile of papers and books in the corner,

Near my mother;

She is insane.

“Gasoline was too expensive!” She sings, “I got kerosene! Ah, look! It doesn’t smoke as much, how lovely.” 

I watch the fire. I’ll die here, impure; my mind, inflamed. How many of my friends; they call it monogamy, but if you’re not a wife, you’re…concubine.

Let it burn me, mother Hail. The grandfather clock strikes twenty minutes afire.

“Come now, don’t be retarded, look, it’s your man, calling in the hall!”

The flames are silent. They drift into the vents. The room is stone, it’s stone, it’s stone, it’s…the tapestry, a gift from my mother, catches fire, then the rug, just let me die.

“Come, Alexandre, darling, listen!”

The fire, I am a kēmist by training. Kerosene, it is a flammable liquid, the vapours can explode.

The air in the room ignites, a cold burst of red and yellow and orange and painful and mother help me

Engaged in crime I grasp my throat

Enraged my mind starts to smoke

Enforce a mental overload

Angry again, angry again, angry—

HELP ME

Come dear, “she says,” I am disoriented, my bed is singed, but it didn’t catch. But the rug is finding its way to me. I’m dead.

“Come on, you can do it!”

I see her beckon. I hear from the hall, calls for his life. He doesn’t call for me. Useless man. All the servants are out, he is alone, but for me.

“Let the wicked burn! My love, we have work to do here yet! Can’t you see them? They dance with the flames, the wicked, still, look! I am to join them, but my lovely, you still need taking care of, don’t you?”

You can always trust a madman—if she’s your mother.

I stand up, the bed catches, finally, sharing a moment of heat and lust with the rug. I don’t see smoke, but I cough anyway.

“Look!” he enters the room, my mother is still not helping, she’s helping, look, I look, I look, I loo-

“Hey, kiddo,” I say to him, I say to Orion.

Orion, my owner, looks at me, he’s frightened, paralyzed. He; I feel now, that my resentment was misplaced. He scans the books, on fire. I take the dictionary from the smoldering bed and add it to the pyre and then laugh as my mother does; the saccharine laugh of our family.

“Nice of you to join us, what’s burning? Did the vents do their job?” I stride to the window and open it. The flames feed on the oxygen, the atmosphere, my life.

“Everything! There was a burst in every ventilated room—”

I hated him, so I took him and threw him out the window, save them from the flames, I called to him, about the others long gone.

Then, my mother and I, we left the building and let it die, die instead of me, I’m more important. I’m more important.


Endnotes

1 The first two lines are identical to the first two lines of “Angry Again” by Megadeth. Song lyrics, notorious for being aggressively guarded by record companies, almost never make it into published work. Thus, this piece can never be officially released.

2 The dictionary used is the anachronistic Webster’s New International Dictionary of the English Language, revised 1913 edition; chosen to avoid copyrights—despite the use of copyrighted lyrics both before and after it. A fifteenth or sixteenth century dictionary would have been more period-appropriate.

3 Seeming anachronisms, while potentially setting-permissible, should be removed to supress reader speculation. When allowed to remain, they can undermine the legitimacy of the text.

4 The Greek (Romanized)a spelling of chemist is used due to the context of the piece. This should be changed to chemist to maintain the pretence of legitimacy in the text.

5 The four lines before “HELP ME” is nearly the entire chorus of “Angry Again;” the song that opened the piece. This further undermines the text, and enforces its unpublishability.

a First coined 1605, from chemist +‎ -ry. From chemist, chymist, from Latin alchimista, from Arabic اَلْكِيمِيَاء‎ (al-kīmiyāʾ), from article اَل‎ (al-) + Ancient Greek χυμεία (khumeía, “art of alloying metals”), from χύμα (khúma, “fluid”), from χυμός (khumós, “juice”), from χέω (khéō, “I pour”). (https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/chemistry).i

i Sourced from the creative commons, to avoid conflicts of legitimacy.



Daniel Triumph.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gXLY1Svth-w

Writ April 14

Writ April 14,
Some time after Midnight

“Maybe there’s a place for me in this,
Maybe there’s a life I should not miss,”
I wash across these days
hit one by one
but all together
Was said, “Even if all my bones are broken,
I will drag myself back from the edge…”
Thought it was me,
Or at the very least embodied in text;
____________We will see.
As the days wash over me.
It is late. I should sleep.
I cannot now mass produce the art as I once did,
_____________________________________nor should I,

But it is calling me
I am compelled.
The eyes of my head
___Still swim as they once did
___As the days wash over me
I am compelled.
To you who are silent,
I feel compelled, though I know I am not.
It really is late.
At the very least I am compelled by myself.
The quiet grows loud.
It is dark and cold and
I am compelled,
As the days wash over me,
And I look back and see
Where am I supposed to be?
Old tendencies*

But more recently,
What can I make of this grand project,
Now abandoned so, collecting dust?
Needs some reworking; another touch but,
Is it too grand for me?
A step past knowledge and insensitivity.
Must the format change?
Can I even keep up,
Frustrating, grand, rearrange,
Research required, the work and pain.
So much has changed now,
The map is different
Internal landscapes shifted,
What can, after all this, remain?
Or will it instead collect dust.
Or will I open up again this novel tome
And hide away as I work,
Let liberally the pen roam?

Few more days, counting down,
The world will not stabilize for weeks and I
Will end as I started,
On The Harbor, in the dark,
Wondering about our silence,
And my compellation
And it is cold
And soon I will sleep
And spring is coming
And I will wake too late in the day,
But I will still do what I must,
Eventually.

Daniel Triumph.

By the time you read this, it will be one day after my final exam.
What next?

Sing me a Lovely Lovers’ Song!

Oh love my love you are peace
Oh love my love I want your peace

I’ll keep you safe!
I’m on my knees.
You see oh lovely love o’ love my love oh can’t you see?
I have to, want to build a home for you and me!

You are my joy
Must keep you safe (yusshhhh :3)
You are my peace
In peace you’ll stay!

But love I must learn!
Oh me oh my love!

Yes lovely, learn!
Fly up like a dove!

And how, when I am safe,
Can I do such a thing?

Where is the ground not firm,
that we build up schools and homes?
Where when the law is stone,
do we build up universities and cities?

The bandits assault the schools.
And learn with sword at throat you won’t!

Your freedom’s yours, oh me oh my love!
Oh! Oh! Can’t you see?
Your freedom is yours, and safe you will be!
Ah! Ah! Oh I can see!

Oh me
oh safe!
Oh me
your face!
Come here let me grab you
Oh come and I’ll squeeze you
I come, oh pleaze take me :3
I’m here, oh please touch me!

Oh how can I ever deserve such a peace, oh my me, oh now?
Why should ever you work oh so hard and for me, oh am I worth(y)?
Oh and I am useless, do nothing, I am little and cute!

I and lo, I want nothing
And lo you are nothing, oh no no no no

Wha—

Not something you are, oh, ’cause someONE you are!
My Lady’s no object! To that I object.
And all I want from you is one thing, oh me oh my love
Yes?
And all I want is this thing, my lovely my bug
What!
And that thing is this, oh it’s this oh right here
You’re poking my nose, oh, what is it my dear?
The condition of intimacy is simply, my lovely, oh
All you must do for me is to exist oh me oh my love!

And!
Hmm?
And?
Oh! And be with me and only me oh my love
oh my love
And be oh with me, oh Lady
Be mine!
Ah!
Ah?
Yes?

Oh take me my love!
Oh yes, my lady!
Oh conquer me, my husband.
Oh marry me, my wife.




All together now;
I am yours,
till death do we part.
And forever we’re ours,
And you feel my heart.
Two half souls finally become one
And peace in the home, and peace under sun.

And
Until then I build a house
And Until then I’ll grow and love
And now you make me not alive
No?
No, I am always alive, not needy, my no!
No?
No! You make me alive-er my love
oh love me my love!
Oh love me oh love me oh love me my love!

Obviously drawing inspiration from the Song of Songs, this is something of an engagement song. According to the Jewish tradition, if you so much as fornicate you are betrothed. How this would change the world if it was law! I wonder how many little children would have fathers…

Alas! This is a follow-up poem to “Sing me a song; so that I may Dance!

Sing me a song; so that I may Dance!

Sing me a siren song,
draw me — to the rocks.
Sing me your siren song,
You know — I’ll cling fast.

Sing me a pretty song,
I love you, your voice.
Sing me a lovely song,
You know I am yours.

Sing me oh sing me oh singing me love
Sing me oh sing me oh sing into life.

What should I do?
Sing me,
What should I do?
She asks,
What should I sing for you?
What should I do?

Sing me oh sing me oh a song of psalms.
Sing me oh sing me oh the song of songs

One two three, one two three,
Sing me a waltz!
One two three, one two three,
Sing me a waltz!
One two three, one two three,
Oh let us, dance and oh,
oh Let us, dance and oh,
Oh shall we, dance like this,
oh can we, dance my love?

And you be my princess,
And I watch you prance!
And I be you nobleman,
You watch my stance.
And oh, what nice etiquette!
I have a chance?

My lovely my lovely, you are all the chance,
My angel my only, — — let us dance!

Take me, oh take me, oh take me my man,
Take me away, oh my take me my hand.

Take you oh take you oh take you away,
And take you oh take you oh please let us stay!

I hold fast to your hand my love—
I’ll hold on your shoulder
Oh lovely be bolder!
And I’ll seize your waist
Oh not so much haste!
Please band, slow the tempo,
My body’s a temple,
Oh oh ever chaste!
None of you I’ll waste!

Finally, there is another song, Sing me a Lovely Lovers’ Song!