Internal Dialogue (poem)

I don’t have time
to do this and that
I have to study

But I read too slow
so studying takes
all of my time.

I’ll learn
to speed read

Speed reading reduces retention.
It’s just skimming.
Tai Lopez doesn’t read a book a day
he just skims.

Looks like reading faster takes practice
like any other skill

The only way to speed up is
to read a lot
of difficult texts.
For months!

Which means I have months
maybe years of slow reading ahead.

At least I don’t have to worry
about trying to read faster
I read university textbooks
It will happen on it’s own

Maybe.

So, class, studying, and on top of that
I want to maintain this blog

It’s my longest lasting project
I wouldn’t have worked so hard
If it meant nothing.

I guess I have no objections

At the moment.

But if I’m reading
all the time then

There is no free time.

Write into the night.
Then just
write into your sleep!

I of all people should know that when I don’t get enough sleep, I read slower, retention drops further, I can’t focus in class. That means studying cuts into, or erases, time for the blog, or the quality of the blog.

Okay.
I was wrong, I need sleep.
Otherwise I get like that.
But then what?

I’ll figure everything out with
time management using
the agenda
Then I can see what’s going on
and make room for everything

Oh look, the agenda’s full.
Now I have actual proof
that there’s no time.

I don’t know what to do about this.

Uhhg. You know this part of the mind
doesn’t like doing actual work,
Just criticizing!

Anyway

Why not put the blog into the agenda.
If it’s important, it should hold
equal footing with anything else.

That’s genius
Man I’m so smart

Yes I am.

Agreed

Wonderful.

Wait, if it was full before
I still have to make room.
By dropping something.

No no, it’s cool look
I had full days dedicated to things
that only take maybe half a day

I need to get used to this
I’ll have to adjust to managing time
I have time to do something else
after I’m done the first task

Instead of slacking.

My time has been getting choked off by a lot of things. I’m travelling this weekend, and I don’t know how that will go. Then I have a couple of essays to work on next week. On top of readings.

But, despite the drop from daily to a sort of bi-weekly posting schedule, I have managed to maintain this blog, so, hopefully I can keep it up during the next two weeks… and then into exams come December.

yep.

Anyway, for those following the Solune Prince, I have started the next chapter. I might also make an update post, or maybe a post on plot motivations or something. Either way, that particular narrative is a bit of a mess and fixing will take quite a bit of work. For now, it goes on as it is.

Although I have been outline and planning scenes and even acts since I started putting names in the titles (Act II, Scene xi), so at least I’m not just blind-writing like was the case with Evidence. (Kind of scared to go back and edit that one to be honest.)

Sometimes I think to cancel it though

But what I’ll learn through the process and by finishing is worth the fight!

Daniel Triumph.

You can follow me:
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If you want, you can help me out on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/DanielTriumph)

P.S.

I think the reason I’m doing poetry so much is because I’m reading poetry so much :[

The Djeb Guard

We are here, we watch the city.

We are the ones who respond.
If they come with hands open to take, or hands closed to hit.
If they come with words that are false, or words that are threats.
We are the ones who respond.

We are here, we watch the city.
We walk overnight, we walk overday.
We walk along paths, we walk overland.
If you need any help, call the guard of the Djeb.

They call to us, of a winged creature. I respond.
They come to me, they fear the unknown.
I stand for them, I am their safety.
I must remain calm.

The guard’s process.
Step one is discover. What is the conflict?
Step two is confirm. What is the nature?
Step three is intervene. Can it be done by reason?

Step one is discover. I speak to them, what is the conflict?
The creature entered the city, It isn’t too big.
The creature entered the city, it looks just like us.
She is smaller though.

I speak to them. What has it done?
Voices, murmurs, shrugs, suspicion.
Wings, a sword, teeth, suspicion.
I cannot act on suspicion.

Step two is confirm. I must speak to the creature.
She says she is Yaska, from the east.
She says she is passing through, to an inn.
She says— I interrupt her.

Yaska May Dawngale,
Yaska, one of the five Solune Legends.
Yaska, one of the heroes of the east.
Yaska, unbelievable might.
Yaska, of the Plainkind.

Step three is intervene. I must reason with the people.
The Plainkind has not caused any trouble.
The Plainkind should not be suspicious.
The Plainkind is a Solune hero.

The flames rise into the sky, and we respond.
How could this happen, here on the shore?

“Get the people out of the district.”

The flames cannot be stopped.

They spread along buildings and homes.

I watch.

What can we do?

“Hannah, focus on the people.”

I focus on the people.
I focus on the process.
The guard’s process.

Step one is discover.
The conflict is not the fire, it’s the people escaping it.
Step two is confirm.
The nature is not to rescue the homes, it’s to rescue the people.

Step three is intervene. Can it be done by reason?
I say, “take them to the eastern district.”
I say, “take them across the canal.”
I say, “take them, lead them there.”

Guards discover people in homes, so they don’t get trapped.
Guards create checkpoints, to confirm their path, and their safety.
Guards intervene with inns, to find places for them.

The people are safe, but the fires still burn.
It moves towards the east.
It moves towards the canal.

It’s too big for a line of buckets.
But we try nonetheless.

I take an empty bucket,
I fill it with seawater,
I pass it down the line,
I take an empty bucket…

The rhythm of buckets,
has become automatic.

And I stare out into the sea.
The islands of mountains.
The dim of the sky.
The winged shadow.
Rising from the east.

It shot from the city, into the air.
It shot from the air, over the sea.
It shot from the sea, onto an island.

Suddenly, the tip of the mountaintop breaks off.
A feat of strength, it’s lifted from its perch.
I watch as it’s launched into the air.
I watch as it falls into the sea, just off the shore.
I watch the waves, they echo off the island.
They head towards our shoreline.

I point, I shout, “tidal wave”

The guards follow the path of the people.
We exit to the eastern district.
And the waves come to the flames.

Water hits the shore and rises,
Momentum cracks against the beaches.
The waves hit the buildings,
And the flames drown.

“Do you think my wave did more damage than the fire might have?”

Hannah shrugged, “a drenched and damaged structure is better than a pile of ash.”

Daniel Triumph.

You can follow me:
For updates: Facebook, and Twitter
for art: DeviantArt and Instagram.

If you want, you can help me out on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/DanielTriumph)

P.S.

Somewhat inspired by a couple of songs from Falling Up’s second album, Dawn Escapes: Searchlights and Marathons. This is a situation in the Djeb that I’ve been thinking about for a while. Never thought it would come out as a sort of long poem though.

Throne (?)

Yaska sat on her throne.

Although, she didn’t rule anything, so technically it wasn’t a throne. But it looked like a throne, so I called it a throne. I think it may have been a throne at some point. But, it looked like a throne, so I called it a throne for your benefit. Yaska herself didn’t even call it to be a throne. Perhaps you’re thinking that this seat isn’t truly a throne at all, in which case you’re right. Let’s fix that.

Yaska sat on her throne-like seat. It wasn’t really hers, she just sort of found it, and happened to be using it.

Well now wait. If it wasn’t her throne, then I don’t really have a good reason for saying it was hers in the first place. Why would I have done that? Maybe to elevate your view of Yaska? To see her king-like, sitting in her throne? But that doesn’t work, because it’s not a throne, and it isn’t hers. Maybe simply for the sake of the piece then? That could be it, and if it is, then I have to question— I’m going to stop myself there, as I’m in danger of becoming far too meta, and I don’t want to add a further indented paragraph. Instead, I’ll just go back and fix the sentence.

Yaska sat on a throne-like seat. It wasn’t really hers, she just sort of found it, and happened to be using it.

That’s better, right? Or at the very least, it’s far more accurate. Although, I’m probably here, getting in the way of the situation, so let’s try it one more time. Fourth time’s the charm, at least in Däwngale.

Yaska sat on the throne-like seat. It wasn’t really hers, she just sort of found it, and happened to be using it. In fact, being made of stone, the seat was rather uncomfortable, so she stood up and left it. The end.

I guess the part about the throne would be unnecessary if this paragraph was part of a longer piece, since it didn’t amount to much. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned the throne at all, since it’s so insignificant? If that’s the case, then here’s the final draft of the paragraph:

 

By Daniel Triumph.

I honestly don’t know if this counts as a poem, or as prose, or what. I don’t even think it counts as a prose poem, since it’s not very poetic. Maybe I’ll call myself avant-guard and proclaim that it’s a new form of prose! I think, I’ll just be confused and tag it as both.


You can follow me:
For updates: Facebook, and Twitter

for art: DeviantArt and Instagram.

If you want, you can help me out on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/DanielTriumph)

Don’t Tread on Me.

Don’t tread on me.
I don’t much appreciate it.

Don’t tread on me,
I’d rather be alone.

Human shoes
Horse’s shoes
Tires and
Wheels

Can you not
Understand
How it all
Feels?

A Worker fixes a crack
A Worker changes a stone.

They think they are helping
But when they come back,
They’ll do the unspeakable,
Foot based attack!

Don’t tread on me.

Quite possibly the dumbest poem I’ve ever written, content wise. At the very least, I like the use of rhythm. I make it very clear that I’m an amateur at poetry.

Daniel Triumph.

P.S.

(Yes, this poem is about a complaining road, of all things. Judging by the presence of both horses and wheels (either car or bicycle), you could say it takes place around the late 1800s/ early 1900s.)