Haldoz - Addicted to Chaos

Haldoz (2018-04-25) Addicted to Chaos

1. C.F.
2. T.D.S.
3. F.M.
4. Y.S.
5. S.W.
6. L.D.

1 - Cracked Flames - i took this journey myself, and has missing steps, this long empty hallway carved smooth into the darkness of the mountain itself, until an end with high sides, would i climb my way out needing stone claws and less hunger, the muted sound of lightning blinding widely across the white sky with following clouds like the surface of a stormy ocean from below, the fire there already lit, is warm and glows, the flames wave with each flicker cracked as decaying leaves as ice melts in the desert sun, falling asleep beside them i am warmed with cold, and wake set ablaze freezing in flames, explosions of embers in my face i wake startlingly this now for reality, as the blacksmith strikes anvil with an eye on his wrist, sparks with each pounding, sounding high pitched sounds in melody with the thunder of stomach pangs, the wine is warm, the bread is not

2 - The Dark Sword - midday the sword is done, given ancient stones i struggle to see it in the light of the high sun, for extra silver and gold i can buy the one type of whetstone to sharpen it, it seems, and so shall with confidences of and for mine own, i take the handle and the sword reveals itself, handle lighter than air and stirs the air each swipe, but the handle chooses to fall first each time heavy enuf that in throws the blade shall bevy upward as the grip may sink into lesser sands, a trap of misfortune, a misstep for some sap, after sharpening it slits it’s holster and more money is due for something new

3 - Flying of Man - i feel in rare form hacking other swords in two, and to my homeland outside and below the mountain toward the 7th star of the world circle, almost arrogant to cut lesser swords in half, and beyond careless to not hide it on small bounties warranted along the path from inn to inn, as a squad of hunters lure me into a chase after them and their victim, to a building, to it’s over-floor dormitory, one of them i knock-out, another i am forced to cut him down, another leaps from a window, as he lays aground i drop the sword knowing the handle will hit him and sink him, without his death, a foolish fault, another raider steals the sword, all of the evil squad flee together, leaving their captured victim wounded for me to assist

4 - The Years’ Souls - by her wounds healed i depart, and for every rebirth of the moon i end one of them when the moon makes full, closer then am also I, following the tale of the nightmare blade that makes victims scream and witness speak of an ancient pain, to stay thieves they stay in habit using the dark sword, to stay alive they use it too often, tyrants across an honest countryside, as a bell to follow,

5 - The Ship of the Woman - the sword is with the raiders, hiding in plain sight in a dry town, a handful, each with pieces of the blade, broken and wrapped in ancient leathers, as jagged daggers, most are stopped, gathering pieces and checking bodies for more, their leader escapes to the port, another henchman down, the leader has escaped, tailing a rope i board the ship soaked, the woman i saved is on board, admitting error, i fight the pirate, admitting regret for not hunting me, as he dies she attacks me, as she dies i search for the pieces of the blade,

6 - Legacy in the Dreamer - i have two blades in two hands, the setting sun makes me impossible to see, the scared crew try another attack, as i survive the blades catch fire with blackened flames, i force the crew to hesitate as i steer directly toward land, i swim to shore and head to port, i count the pieces of broken sword, incomplete i head to the water where i swam, staring into the choppy small currents crashing against each other, each wave swells from the deep and carries silence and echoes of a mountain against the sand and collapses like avalanche, thoughts racing across my journey the struggle waits with how it began, what words would speak unto myself to start again, a port lantern flickers, opening the glass i burn the blades, the amber color glows faint below the surface of a mosaic glass sea, without candle there is darkness, by burning blade a sunken beacon, my dive is tranquil and warms me, in madness of silence so many questions to myself are answered as i search for shards of the sharpest blades, closer they glow familiar white with the owners eyes of magic blood, the air is fresh, the dry land is restorative, not all the pieces are there, travel to the place where it was forged in beggar's rags with wealth of knowledge, but the smith has passed, so i mend the sword myself anew, in the massive time to learn i now am ready to give it to the youth sleeping in the workshop, so i sell the sword myself wiser, for more than i had paid, after some words i tell a man with one eye my story, he tells me that i’m stronger in all ways for the journey with an armlet bearing the symbol of an eye on his wrist, i look away and he disappears, leaving me with the missing piece

/end

Psychopomp

Inside the broken fortress and all lay lines point to me, glowing like the diamond forest at the salted bloody sea, swaying back and forth emotion in this dark eternity, take the midnight sun devotion and wind becoming free

For the writing of a nation and the journey of the lash, make your tunnels to your station as world becomes our ash, truth behind eternal bloodshed as the dragons' teeth do mash, with these darkest of devotions, all of time within a flash

Make you by the mirror window

See you in the solar breeze 

Find a trail of pure emotion in the night

Thank your kings it's not so simple

Wash ashore now on your knees 

Now this burden blinding with the darkest light

Selling to the burdened shadow with the tailor and his knives, like the witches and the sailor running from the dragons' eyes, running souls across the fires of the molten lava spies, break the wisdom of your omens that the underworld denies

(solo) 

/.

Tones of Home

I.

Have something to tell. One paragraph rough drafting on my phone and wireless keypad and something fiction tomorrow, which i was working-up in my head. 

Altho, I actually would like to know how many public enemies read this or crawl thru my posts looking for etherial nonsense, there's no need for understanding me, I don't. Enjoying #Android, but the native Blogger app is a labor-intense shit that doesn't even recieve from other apps, so using the one alternative they should just buy. Whatever, I already wrote against victim disarmament, and prolly more importantly, I'm not going to write for human sacrifice, not the correct kind of temporal event. So perhaps twice the lasso and half the gallows, but I've been reading things like 'banning assault weapons, but not pistols' and there is a timeout matter-of-factly or mother-of-fugly, ask yourself what the word assault meant before the discovery of gunpowder or rapid progression projectiles, are you really banning assaults, it seems dumb, muted in awakening, which the lovers of new laws have called an assault would not call being shot an assault if a class of weapon were uninvolved. Let the second failure of your spoken language be in that, they are defense weapons, in ancient english we would say, "weapon hurt, weapon not toy" and essays on weapons rights are as peurile and fascile as can be, protected only by the level of sophistry, like behavioral science in a pig pen, it's just not done. Actions speak louder than words, if eveyrone is talking, there is no honored action. If you should do you, they should do them. 

Okeyyy, a little ranting. In the diatribe that is our social media, just say post, shortened from a posting. Fuckidily derpus, while we're at it, the American English, learn how to say R, TH, and S, as if different letters.....i can't even. The mouthfuls of four-corner english is an ASSAULT on my senses, i'm not going to ban language, and even if i did, wouldn't change something that exists. The origin of the language comes from a land that is midly a prison colony during my lifetime, altho that one royal is betrothed to that one actress, making joint productions that much easier. 

I've been saying to myself something of a question. So you have a gang, is it worth a damn? or is it just a group of shitheads doing what they think a gang does? 

Note to self: Is morality the same as consciousness? 

The rain falls from the sky, the rain falls from gravity, then gravity is the sky. Even in the last thing I read, knowing full well that crimes against anything earthian are to be punished, i'm the man who sold the world, and i can't begin to describe the item to sell online, but with the madness dont' think i won't sell your enemy base to the highest bidder, the madness that i think i'm getting-to/agreeing-with, pfft english, is that the attention seeking alarmism of lies scares sheep into dragons, not the cartoon kind, and the super-saturation of niche brainwashing puts the purity of truth at risk. I've been thinking about pieces of this entry thru-out today, the way a person walks backwards for a running start, looking at words like touchstones in cyberspace, if journalists are the new rockstars, what does that make the guy with the shouting cursewords disorder?

Harmony. 

mjb