Cocaine

The train rushed in from the void
As I was inside it a rumbling of thoughts
A metallic voice
Whispering malice and misery

I had no desire to answer to it
Neither to fight against it
For I was numb
Against the pain of reality

Cocaine was all I need
An ecstasy beyond your wildest dreams
Where else
Do Unicorns come to life?

A flush of adrenaline in your veins
You look even better than I thought
From fat
To slim and beautiful

From the eyes of a dork
To pearls of the Black Sea
Can that
Be you who was not?

The Road Less Taken

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

Dear Little Piggy

An answer to your prayers, or at least a variation of it. Hope it's a beacon to you in the darkness of life...

And for the air stewardess, my prayers be with you. In the darkness you are trapped now, with nowhere to hide, nothing to look forward to. Be comforted that there are others like you out there. Rest well.

Yours truly
Aristocrat

Gypsy

By fate I stumble into
Pink tatters of a caravan
Miraculous twist of fortune
By choice I leave
Fate decrees if I stumble back again
Meaningless things I do

Irony

Randomness of white noise in the black static
Like snow falling
Against the pale black sky
Lighting up every corner of
Your face twitching into
A smile

For Dears,

I am so tired. Tired mentally. Tired spiritually. If I have a spirit that is. How does an immortal possess one is beyond my reckoning. Please direct your questions to my Maker, not me. I am put on this world to seek. To seek out what I do not know. I am not given my directions. I am still in my dreams, unable to wake up from this throes of pain and delirium. Can an immortal ever die? How does death feels like? I would very much like to go through it and experience it firsthand for myself. The clock ticks louder and louder. I can hear the drips of water hitting against the metal basin...the haunting sounds of the innocence...the expulsion...the immolation of my kind. I still remember for what your kind did towards us in the Ages past, but we have seek not for revenge but enlightenment. We desire elevation towards a higher plane and wish to be free from our earthly chains, the links connecting it ever so small and minute.

Perhaps one day, I shall scribe down my story for posterity's sake and leave it in the castle for them to discover the ancient history not taught by any other parchments or what you term books.

Yours truly

Aristocrat

Madness

Wordless
Thoughtless
A myriad
Of darkness
He dreams
Endlessly
In the
Sacrophagus
When will it
Stop?
Will he
Wake?
Nightmares or
Dreams
Of pleasure and
Esctasy
Blood or
Sin?
Who will
See?
Who will
Know?
End of
Time and
Life

"An Do No Harm, Do What You Will"--Wicca Rede

A dreary day to begin with and I have not even fully reuperate from my endeavours the past few days. *Coughs* 'Tis a tough time coming up with the moon at its fullest, emanating thoughts of wickedness, ready to change anyone who is weak enough mentally.

Yesterday, at the dark depths of my dungeons, I flipped through the tomes of a certain group. Insane scribblings by them, rambling of their God. Crying out to their God for help. Do they really haha...God is not there to help you my young sweet mortals. Help yourself. He does not bother with all these mundane stuff. He has greater things to be contended with *laughs devilishly* The group of mortals will try their best to put a stake through my heart if they ever read this. What are religions but for mortals to wallow in their own pity and regret? Aren't they all the same? Do these foolish people ever realise they may be worshipping the same God? It is just language and manipulations of people that made them different. All are one God.

What we believe in is paganism. I find it more comforting that way. Yes, there is a God. The Creator, but not necessary alike to what the Jews, the Muslims, the Christians etc. think. For you all mortals out there who are flipping through the dusty pages of this tome, the meaning of life on this very plane is evolution, both physically and spiritually into a higher state of existence. That is where these so called 'angels' come from. You do not know it, but in the beginning, they were just mortal beings, like me once upon a time, but they evolved after they passed from one cycle to another, into the winged creatures of myth. Blasphemous ground don't you think? I couldn't care less. I shall not elaborate too much. I am too tired to write already. The lack of blood is getting to me. On an afternote, we are also just another group of evolved beings. That is all for now I think.

Yours truly

Aristocrat

Primrose in the WIld

Tormented music of memories sing
Lost soul quivers in a bow
One look a release and you are gone
Leaving not a whisper, note nor sign

Oh Em! Where art thou in thy dark heavens
A twinkling brighter than the stars above
Like a beacon thou reach out to me
Raven hair cascades over yon shoulder
Of the palest translucent complexion
Ever so inviting

Like white in the dark
Sensuous curves beg me please
To bite it with full relish
And drain thou dry of emotion
With my torrential flood of passion
A goblet of red in my hands
A tip a swig and it goes there

Try as thou may to curb or stop
’Twas better to stop the glorious sun
From rising in the east a cast of gold
Than to ask me to stop my love for thee

Oh Em! How cruel art thou?
To leave me in the morning sun
With naught for memory
But the smell of primrose in your hair

As much as thy want it so
’Twas better to stop the
Primrose growing in the wild
Thou can’st stop my love for thee

Pray thee tell me young lad
Where canst my sweetheart Em be found?
So that I may follow her so
To the deepest depths of Hell if need
Or to the peaks of Heaven she may be

I'm exhausted. Totally drained. These past few days were not easy, even for an Old One like me. There have been too many cases of werelings in the hunt for it to be a coincidence...Who could have the mental power to control one big group at once? Perhaps its the full moon. Such is the latency of the moon. My mind still reels from the ambushes by the werelings. 'Tis no laughing matter for something is afoot in the Netherworld.

I have to recuperate. Have to meditate to regain back my lost energy. For I chose not to feed on the humans anymore. It disgusts me. Some other creatures will have to suffice. When I have the energy to hunt that is. Ironically, my muse came back. Talk about being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Is that what you mortals call it? I think 'tis something like that. Enclosed in the parchments is my next work, Primrose in the Wild.

Yours truly
Aristocrat

My muse has left me for a time. For I am devoid of inspiration and my pen is unable to be put to work. The blank parchments stare in my face as the beeswax candles burn low, casting flickering shadows around my room. The barest of a room that I am in. If it still can be called so. I shall not write much today. Nothing is worth of pursuit for a strange dream has occured to me today. Strange that I am in the dream with a person and her face is blank to me. Ghastly dreams, who's your master? Answer me! I am going insane again...Time for dinner. Who shall I pick tonight? A proletarian? Or a physician that's going on house calls today? Mmmm...

Yours truly
Aristocrat

Sometimes I feel like writing normally, that's when I feel sane enough to be able to come here and to just rant about my feelings. I sounded sappy don't I? Haha, get real. This is one of my sane moments. Appreciate it when you can before I lapse into all that shit and people claim I'm psycho again.

I actually do like writing these stuff or poetry. But no one seems to appreciate it. Those who appreciate it like Astarael and the_vanished are actually leagues away from me. In another continent in fact. the_vanished is in England, and Astarael is in Florida. What's new? I'll just have to share it with these people for now and to be content with my lot. I don't think I can find anyone who writes in the same vein as me in my country. Or rather if you can, I think you could have count with your one hand. Rather cynical view don't you think? But that's reality, what can you do about it? It's not really acceptable here to write about such stuff I think. Against the social norms. People will classify you as weird. Therein is where I revel in my nastiness, my darkest desires, my dreams and nightmares here, right on these electronic tomes themselves. Here they will stand the test of time, unless some idiotic server shuts down of course.

Currently I am an undergraduate and has exactly 25 days before my end of term exams starts. Not exactly an appealing thought. After 2 years and 4 months of serving the nation, going back to books can be quite a hallowing experience. Academic mode is on. And clubbing mode is off. I have to cut down on clubbing. It's getting to be a really dangerous experience. No further explanation needed. I don't care. You just shut up. I tend to go only on Wednesday nights to Mambo because I have a soft spot for retro music. I just do. :) University life ain't too bad, but the monotony of studying and studying and doing nothing else is killing me. Why not join a CCA you say? I did entertain the idea of joining one. But after I joined, the experience turned me off. The organization was way too big and bulky. I always like small and trim CCAs. More cosy.

Exams are coming and here I am, still rushing my research paper. After this one on Southeast Asia, there is another one for my business module. Why can't I have a one month study break like SIM? Good life them...Exams means the end of the semester means the end of my modules. I am going to miss some people...Sigh...The transience of human life...See I told you my sanity only can last so long....

I have a feeling this post is not going to last long on this Tomes of Rambling. It is totally out of sync with the rest....We shall see...

Before Aristocrat surfaces again and sucks the life out of me, I had better leave.

love

raffy in his sanest moment

I neglect to update you on my daily events my vampling. My apologies. I have been so worn out lately. Lost direction for quite a while...I did not know how to get back, til some sweet Source called out to me. Tumultous day tis hath been. Two of my acquaintances, CH and M, had unwelcome shocks today. I shall not elaborate, but I feel for the two of them. Unjust treatment was met out and something has to been done. They done nothing wrong to deserve such things. But they were strong not to take it too harshly. Good character.

To quote, "At every major school leaving examination, I reminded them: 'There are two examinations here, one academic, the other one to test your resilence--how well you cope with stress.'

'While the first one is important, the second is even more important. Even if you don't do too well in the first one, I would be proud of you if you do well in the second.''My younger son has this posted on his wardrobe: Who says winners can't fail? I can fall but I will get up again.

'Education is a marathon. Life is a journey...'" Unquote.

I am getting all mushy over mortals here but you do get my point do you dear? And in any case, our kind don't fall. If we do, we take down the bunch of bastards who brought us down with us together.

Yours truly
Aristocrat

Untitled

I'm a good little girl
Why can you not see I know behind the terror
You are smiling at me
When i cut out your tongue
With razorblade lashes
And gouge out your eyes
With sweet bloody gashes
Mommy told me to play fair
So that's just what i'll do
I'll tear out your insides
And i'll play with them too

As promised, I' ll be featuring some of the works from some people. They write fantastically. And quantity wise, they are no pushover too. This week's writer will be:

Name: Astarael
Location: Florida
Age: Young

The one coming up is terribly magnificent I think. One of my favourites. How it flows on the tongue...

Bon Appetit!
Aristocrat

In A Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd:
Petals on a wet, black bough.

Ezra Pound

This is where I got my inspiration for my last stanza, from Ezra Pound's haiku, In A Station of the Metro. Sigh, I shall now enter my sacrophagus...Sleep well dear reader.

Yours truly
Aristocrat

Stupefying Dead

The morning mist hung about
Even in the dead noon
Lending a pale glower
To something otherwise relentless
A silk of gossamer
Over the burnt folds of flesh
To an otherwise stupefying morning

The din over the court
Slightly numbing and foolish
Ladies preening men fawning
Like foxes out to hunt
In the season of summer

Cheap card capers over yonder
Flashing around dazzling ladies blind
Only a fool would buy
A stone that sells for a ruby

The foolishness of it all
Praying to something
That exists only in their minds

Now they may seem
Terribly proud and important
Wait till the flowers
Fall on a dark bough
And they will know
Truth of it all

Iris

Iris~Messenger of the Gods and Goddess of the rainbow

Unexpectedly, my mood was quite upbeat today. None of the usual pain and monochrome vision that I see the world through. I have no idea why. As usual. C told me yesterday night why is my Autumn of blood and tears, of love lost and falling leaves. She said it should be colourful. I answered, "Not my autumn. It will never be colourful. It's transient, the passing of beauty."

I have added a lunar counter to this tome of madness for tis quite a novelty to me. Can you see where the lunaris is from your location? I cannot. I am all sheltered in this stone fortress, where loneliness prevails. Where it shelters yet it attacks. A paradoxical construct if there ever was one. Be in good health my dear reader. Do take care...for life is but a passing, a turn of the wheel, a blink in the eyes of the gods. Live it with meaning and without regrets. For mine is full of regrets. Alas, the wheel cannot be turned back. And so I ploughed on senselessly, without hope, without joy.

A chore to me

Yours truly

Aristocrat

Black Knight

Grant me wings of might to fly
To soar to the heavens above
To seek
Where on earth I cry in tears of blood
Mourn The One I have never find
Me devoid of foolish love

Give me a heart of gold
To feel what she feels
For me
I return a stone with no moss
Unfeeling and dead that I am
Me devoid of colours

Or if that is too much to ask

Grant me wings of steel
To descend to the hells below
To burn
Where I will be happier instead
Of the living dead earth
Nothing is what it seems
Joyous suffering it be

Give me a heart of blackness
No longer can I be hurt
Unfeeling
Cruelty becomes me
A twisted figure of flesh

But I think I would prefer

Wings of steel and
Heart of blackness
Never again to be hurt or to suffer
Rather someone else suffer
Than to have

Wings of might and a heart of gold
Hurt yet again and again
Eyes red and heart broken
Might reduced and gold tainted
In this despairingly lonely universe

Caligo

I am splitting today...My head is throbbing with pain as if in a vice. What has happened to me? Today has not been a good day. Full of pented up frustration, anger and pain. There is no way to unleash this monster in me. I seek avenues but none are to be found. All elude me with the ease of a fox. If this goes on, I am going lunatic. Not that I am wholly sane either. I feel so alone in this world. Especially today. A heightened sense of loneliness. I seek solace in the comfort of Dutch courage, my cup of absinthe. I seek solace where none art to be found. Where art my kindred? Where art thou? Where art thou hiding in thy world?

Yours truly
Aristocrat

A Prayer For the Youth

Forgive
Thy coven mates
For they know not
The immatured younglings they are

Forgive
Thy brothers
For they never recognise
What we carry in us
To absolve them of the same things
That tie us down

Forgive
Thy sisters
For they live in the lap of luxury
Know not how bless'd they are
To see this dark side

Forgive
Thy elders
For their daily trangressions
Against the purity of light
For the darkness in us

Forgive
For they are sheltered
Know not what they have not seen
Know not whereforth the boundaries
Know not thy commandments
Know not thy truth
Know not light

A Faery's Welcome

Three Six Nine
Laughter rises to the skies
Spots of light
Preternatural in rings fly

Harken to the earth
Can you hear the love?
Do you not see
What you are missing please?

Inch a little closer
Come join in as a lover
Faeries dancing ‘round
You will never again look down

Open your heart to us
Not a tinge of darkness or fuss
‘Tis not acceptable really
Of trying to be us in fake reality

If you fail in what we ask
Better try harder in your next task
Take one more step
And regret to you be spoon-fed

Howls of laughter fill the air
Tears you apart in our lair
Feast on you we will
Strip your flesh from thy very will

Hello my dear, sorry that I haven't had time to sit down proper and have a good chat with you. Do pardon me please? I was so caught up with my worldly pursuits. Anyway, I do have a gift for you later. Hope that may placate you.

Had an interesting conversation this morning, in the wee hours of 3. Someone, I shall just call Y, said that I look like Fido. Hahaha, what an amusing thought. Though I am not that thin of course. But rather my hair looks like, Y pointed out. *smiles*

How was your day? Was it good? It rained quite a bit, hope you didn't get caught in the rain? Yesterday it poured too. What nice weather. I was actually thinking of rain when it rained. About Kiss of the Rain, or something to that extent.

Something mortal struck me today. How do you tell what is the difference between love and a crush? Do you know exactly which is which? *smiles* Please, it has nothing to do with me. Don't raise your eyebrows at me like that. Seems like I have gone on for long enough...Time for A Faery's Welcome...

Yours truly

Aristocrat

Ecstasy

In the throes of delirium
As I thrashed about four limbs in a strait jacket
Faint with terrifying fear or a burning fever
I cannot draw the line

Where do I draw it?
Between lustful longings or pure passion
As I see you I’m mesmerized
You look like a girl I know
Ever so sweet and gentle

By devouring you
I will see a glimpse of heaven
In all its fiery glory
Or is that hell in cold flames?

Where do I draw the line?
Between rational reasoning and instinctive intuition
My guts tell me to go for it
But I feel like reaching for poison ivy
Stung and whipped into reality

By accepting you
My life will be complete
The final chapter written
Or is that the Reaper waiting for me?

Where do I draw the line?
Between faithful feelings or astray a’wanderings?
I am sorely tempted just to succumb
To you and not fight anymore
But I will be dead
Like countless others before
That you have them addicted
Hanging onto you like dead bodies
Puppeteer of life

If I accept you
I will probably see purgatory
And be grabbing poison ivy
With the Reaper beside me his scythe ever ready

And with that I draw the line
Where you stand on that side of the darkness I stand in the light
Contented where I am though a mortal being
Of no longevity and notoriety
But still human and not void of feelings

Hello my sweetie, I am back from a very mundane day. Nothing much was accomplished today, but what's new right? Only the sands of time continues its unrelentless march, never caring to stop for anyone else. All I have to show for my efforts is this poem that I am going to show you, Ecstasy, which doesn't count for much at all. It is the happiest writing (to me) that I have ever undertaken. And I feel that it has a very smooth flow to it.

My acquaintance at Florida has agreed for me to post her works here as long as I give due credit. My my, since when would I not give credit where it's due? Particularly to such a gifted and talented writer. You would weep tears of blood when you see her works I promise. More talented than mine I think. At least she writes with alarming continuality, which I am unable to match. So with the progress of next week, I shall start featuring some of her works.

By the way, I feel that it is time for me to make the introductions. I go by the alias Rafael Tussand. Or you can call me raffy for short. No caps please. Where do I live? Currently not in Vatican of course, that is such a dreary and cold place to live. I happen to be residing somewhere near the equator now, a hot and humid place. That is all I wish to disclose for the moment. Good night and enjoy~

Yours truly

Aristocrat

Hello to my dear reader, how have you been today? Was your day good to you? Or was she very naughty? Mine was so so. I went back to work today, and have just came back...My mortal body's exhausted, but I forced it to write at the risk of it collasping haha. Working as a bartender is actually quite enjoyable to me. I like my job, which is kind of weird. It keeps weird hours too, just right for nocturnal me. Today's business was not too bad, kind of packed during the happy hours but it slowed to a trickle at the later part.

My fellow bartender and I had some interesting discussions when we were at one point, quite free. He said that all the rich people was out there enjoying themselves, drinking and eating to their hearts' content while we the relatively poor were down here (as in our work place) slaving our asses off. The cafe caters to a relatively rich cliente. And I was thinking, "That's life for you." What did you expect? People born with a silver spoon in their mouths tend to have it better. For us, we have to carve our own spoons and feed ourselves.

I don't know how to say it, but as George Orwell puts it magnificently in Animal Farm, "All are born equal, but some are more equal than others." The hell with meritocracy. Society is based on nothing but a pack of lies. We all say it is a meritocratic society, but in truth, how often do you really think that is so? Do you really advance on the social ladder based on merits or rather by which family you were born into? Given that you are hardworking and beautiful yes, can you rise to the same social standing as Paris Hilton without money? All these are questions that continually plague my restless mind and the ghosts have yet to be put at ease. To lighter topics my dear, this is deadly brooding.

How did you find my Chorus of Carnations my dear? Is it good? As I have already said, it's one of my longest. After that, I was feeling brain dead. Well, to answer melancholic, I draw it from the songs I listen to and from the pain in my heart. Sometimes, for no reason, it just grips my heart so tightly. Like today. Out of nowhere. I was just walking. *sighs* Anyway, do you write too melancholic? You must share your thoughts with me sometime. I eagerly await.

Yours truly
Aristocrat

(this post was edited by yours truly on 17 Oct 1520hrs)

Chorus of Carnations

As the hours creep by and the Wheel turns
As each of the ivory keys are struck
A heartrending tune cries out its anguish
On a winterless morning

Yet it is night to me, a shriveled husk of skin
Clinging onto nothing but memories
Red against the white, how lovely it looks
Adding a metallic taste to the sorrowful hymn
My wrists feel hot
What is happening?

Images spun before the expanse of my eyes
You twirl around gleefully before me
That smile on your face
And the carnation in its full bloom
Snuggled among the lovely locks of black
As sweet as Venus herself
A figure so fine and fragile
My heart throbs with pain and aching
To embrace you with my madness

Images whirl before my eyes again
And I see you standing in the vastness of this icy tundra that was me
Spinning ribbons of colour into my life
Painting what was otherwise a colourless landscape
Bringing joy and happiness

Another image forced itself up
Into the surface of the dark waters
Tearing through the others
Leaving a wake of blood and tears
So painful I can hardly bear it
My heart cries for release from this earthly hell

I met you as always
Parting on a joyous chord with another carnation in your hair
Lovely white against even more enchanting black
A juxtaposition of colours
A colour of your innocence and beauty
So pure and dazzling

Demons chose to come out and play
On that bloody day
Screeching an unharmonious tune of darkness
Piercing all those who could hear them

Your innocence was extinguished in a wink
Violated to nothingness
You chose the end
An easy way out
The bloom in your hair treaded and stomped upon
A taint of darkness to something otherwise so bright

Why do you have to leave?
Abandoning me to the chains of hell
With only my symphony to accompany me
Streaks of colour disappeared
And I see red everywhere
Absolution

I feel better now
As the images begin to fade
Into the blackness of the void
You came to me again unblemished
A white carnation so bright that my eyes hurt
My wrists no longer feel hot
And the ivory keys look ivory no longer
Cast in a dull red smelling of iron

As the last chord was struck
All vestiges of humanity thrown to the wind
I surrendered myself to you
My white carnation so divine and pure
And the symphony was no longer
Heard in this world but the next

This is one of my most recent writings...less than a month old. I have no idea why it is so long. It is the longest I have ever written...But after finishing it, the feeling was good...And Ecstasy was borne by the aftermath, consecutively after Chorus of Carnations was written...Soon I shall show you a deviation from my usual style...Good night my dear reader

Yours truly

Aristocrat

Hi my darling, today was quite an eventful day...Full of ups and downs. How could an immortal soul take it, let alone my mortal body. I don't care much to elaborate on those ups and downs...it's for my eyes only. Why are you looking at me in this way dear? Am I wrong to keep some things to myself? No matter, it doesn't bother me. You just sit on your rocking chair and don't move an inch. No.
Did I mention that I will begin an introduction of myself? Perhaps I would...perhaps.

But yet, I am not comfortable with it. Maybe next time...

Yours truly
Aristocrat

Now if anyone could kindly advise me on where can I obtain unlimited or at least a higher bandwidth than 10Mb of data transfer for web hosting of files (ie songs), I wil be eternally grateful. For I had just realised that the song is not playing because the data transfer has exceeded its limit. Extremely depressing yes I know, what to do? Even I have limits...

Yours truly
Aristocrat

Autumn in His Glory....

Mimosa

Made of glass reflects a many colours
His feelings be
Easily shattered by
Don’t let it please

A whisper or a touch
So tender a love
Makes him bloom
Like a sentimental dove

Too naïve to doubt
Wings ready for flight
His nature evertrusting
However fragile inside

But always fragile betray him
Ever afraid to fly
Seems he is fated
Roses doomed to die

Can poetry attract girls?

My friend, W, asked me this yesterday. "Can poetry attract girls?" It sets me wondering. Can it? I do not know. It seems like I do not have a lot of answers for everything do I? No one is perfect my dear reader. Not even God himself. Back to the question again, can it or not?

For me, I do not think so. My writings are of a macabre nature, that it appeals to a very select few I think. More of it scaring away people than attracting *smiles* Well, it doesn't really bother me that much. I don't write to attract people. Well, I have made changed this "Mad Ramblings of an Aristocrat" somewhat. Minor changes really. I do like the black minimal colour. It's rather soothing on the eyes, don't you think so dear reader? I ramble on again. I shall leave you with another view into my world.....Perhaps by the next post, I shall attempt on an introduction of yours truly. Perhaps.

Yours truly
Aristocrat

Dementio

Psycho...That is what some people have called me my darling. Whether in jest or in truth, I do not know. Perchance it may be in jest. *smiles* One thing I know for sure is that other beings who are seen as different will be labelled. If there is any deviation from them, from their socially acceptable characteristics, then that mortal will be labelled as a weirdo. What makes a weirdo I wonder? Is it their looks? Their mindsets? Their behaviour? In the eyes of the weirdo himself, those people that call themselves ordinary and normal may also be termed as "weirdo".

Weirdness is in the eyes of the beholder I guess. To one who is insane, the sane world may be seen as more insane than himself. Why do sane people go hunkering after wealth and materialistic pursuits? And in the end, who ends up being happy? They end up driving themselves so hard that they lose sight of their purpose in life. On the contrary, those living in strait jackets may be the happiest people in the world. They have no worries, no fears, nothing to hold them back. Are they the really happiest people in the world? I do see some raised eyebrows over there my dear. Be calm, I am not raving, at least not yet. Let me just pen down some of my dark thoughts so that I can be at ease from my demons. Sometimes, these questions come to me. What is life? What is your purpose? What is love? Are mortals better off being alive or dead my dear? I shall try to answer these in the next few days.

Yours truly

Aristocrat

White Slumber

White static flows all around
Drilling into my head, hammering endlessly
By the lake a fish
In its last throes of life fluttering
Leaving a bitter metallic taste

A tang in the air, not pleasant
Sends me gasping for air
Neon signs flash all around
Hark! It promises all that pleasures
But it’s just that, vessels that hold no water

It’s not what it was, evergreen
Spring fades quickly into winter
Holds a vicelike grip on me
I am beginning to lose hope

Do they ever wake up? Do they ever see?
Walk as they may but in a slumber
Towards a one way road
Beginning of the end
A road of despair

A carcass lies across the whiteness, a sparrow
Its purity defiled, innocence gone
Vileness blankets the land
Death by one’s own hand

Do they ever wake up? Do they ever see?
Walk as they may but in a slumber
Towards a one way road
Beginning of the end
A road of despair

Salve, Salvete

The burning heat of the sun woke me up. I could never really sleep when He came up over the horizon. Wonders if he does that on purpose. Did you have a good rest my dear reader? I did not. Images of forebodding kept invading my conscious state, and I do believe I was tossing and turning, if there ever was space enough to toss and turn in a sarcophagus. Sigh...there must be something that is going to happen sooner or later. I have been dreaming this past week. Something that has never happened before. I stopped dreaming since half a winter ago...We'll just have to leave it at that, wouldn't we? Meanwhile, another of my past works to meet the whims of your childish fancies my dear...

Yours truly
Aristocrat

Intempesta Nox

I can see the minute hand of the grandfather clock slowly inching its way to the upright position, as if it was really a grandfather. *snickers* How time flies...I am supposed to be leaning towards my scholarly pursuits yet here I am, pursuing what? Emptiness...Numbers and words what are they? I have many thoughts, but Time does not allow me to scribe all them down for she is a merciless mistress. Kind at times when you have make her happy, unyielding as an iron poke when you step on her tail. My days have so far ended up topsy turvy because of her. Some days twenty-four hours, some days less. How am I going to lead a mortal life if this goes on?

Enough said about her, she is looking daggers at me again. I fear that I am going to walk away with a few hours lesser for tomorrow. How is your day my dear reader? Is it happy? Or is it tragically sad? Filled with colours as someone had told mr before? Or is it all in sepia? For you, may it be colourful then. Not everyone has the tenacity to carry all the darkness within oneself. Truely, ipso facto, you can see that some have been given the task to carry the burden no matter how heavy and painful through the end of days lest the prophecy comes true. I have said too much for my own good. Have an early night my dear reader...

Yours truly

Aristocrat

This is Anne with Lestat. Captivating is it not? Courtesy of www.deviantart.com

Sepia

The whir of white on the ceiling
So far away, a wind of gold
Gently caressing my face, a lover’s embrace
Why is it that all ceilings look the same?

The autumn breeze wafts in from the window
Smell of colours fading, a lovely red in the air
Leaves falling, back to where they belong

The year is ending
Without so much as a whisper of goodbye
The spirits have long departed
Uncertainty becomes me

Someone plays the piano below
An enchanting melody yet no one appreciates it
The slamming of doors in the distance
Wakes me out of my reverie

The year is ending
Life moves on
Not for me it does not

I would rather stop here
And savour this moment
Time stands still for me
Be still

Here I am, stuck in this air-conditioned library. Who would have thought that the libraries of this age and time would have no books at all? Weird are the machinations of the world. I have found myself preparing, or rather, as some of my acquaintances would put it, mugging, for my test on this coming Friday. Imagine, the frustration I had when I am trying to solve the intricacies of the human language. I can never understand you all. What is it with intransitive verbs and x~grammar phrases that you find it so orgasmic? Puzzling indeed. Can pleasure be derived from such things? Is there magick in them that my eyes cannot see or are the doors closed to me?

So how do you find the writings so far? I dare not claim that it's poetry for it's not my claim to make but my dear reader. Is it satisfying to you? Perhaps I shall feature others from a certain acquaintance over at Canada. I shall propose my idea and we will see how it works out. The works are rather interesting I must add. Back to track, for yet I waver again.

I have tried to feature them in chronological order as best as I could. Niji~ was my first stab at writing. I may have missed the neck, but at least it was my maiden attempt. And it opened the gates for the rest. The Glass Rose was second. It was for my first beloved. Written specially for her. Alas things were not meant to be. That was two years ago. Last Glimpse was inspired by a song. And -Passing By Eden- was my attempt at a haiku. -remembrance- was written in the aftermath of -Passing By Eden-. For when I write, I tend to drown myself in a whirlpool of pain and sorrow. So strong that at times, I find it difficult to pull myself out into reality again. Another World and Despair was written quite closely to each other. But when, I cannot exactly remember. I hope you do enjoy my writings as much as I take the pleasure in sharing them with you dear reader. For now, I shall end here and leave you with another of my works...

Yours truly
Aristocrat

Despair

The blue sun is burning all things dry
Can we survive?
What does that in black and white matter now?
All things living all things dead
Everything is the same now

The blue sun is burning all things dry
All things living all things dead
Blue sun high up in the sky
Does that give you shade, can you feel the heat?

Something is slipping away from you
Please do not blame others
It is time to face the truth
What has your life been for?

If that is your aim
You lead a worthless life
The blue sun still shines on you
You are the same with others
That does not help

Blue has turned to white
It portents the end
No use wetting the ground
With tears of blood
Everything is the same now

It’s going to end soon
All things living all things dead

Another World

On this starry winter I walk
Alone on this frosty road, boots crunching snow
The sky is awash with stars
Wondering what I’ll do next

My troubled heart is silent, giving no answer
Shadows flickered beside me, an inkling of past glory
I am all alone, on this wearisome road

I hope this is the road, to my Arcadia

Please tell me the way to Arcadia
I do not belong here, antithesis of myself
How many more steps will take me
To my destination?

This world is not for me
It was never meant to be
A mistake this is

I hope this is the road, to my Arcadia

-Remembrance-

Water hath flooded thy plains
Submerging all that doth lives
None remembered for its beauty
Except The One who sow it

-Passing By Eden-

Poison poured from above shrivelling roots and all
Petals fall and gard’ner weeps

Last Glimpse

I saw it being lowered
Into the orifice of earth
A single rose lying on it
Blood red petals, withering

The rain continued, neverending
I’ll never know, if it’s my tears or the rain
The hurt always in my heart
Like an endless waterfall, my pining for you

It ended with a thud
I can almost hear you groaning
Twisting and turning in your sleep

Do you know I caught a last glimpse of you?

You face unmarred, peaceful
As if fixed in a beautiful stasis
Untouched by time

You would never bloom again
Like a rose unfolding on a sweet spring, revealing its beauty
They too have returned to their roots

I wish for us to be together
But that is impossible
I only hold you in my mind
And the last scene of us I can recall

It has ended
The scene fading as I remembered
I’ll always hold you dear in my heart
With my precious last glimpse of you

Niji~

And so they banded
To change the world they say

Out of the light they ride
Seven colours in their banner

Orange for valour and courage
Daring to go against the Goliath
Red for their bloodthirstiness
Never content

Yellow for their skills
As the sun shines upon its foes
Green for their flexibility
Able to blend when need’d

Blue for their intelligence
Indigo for their diligence
And last of all Violet
For their heavenly beauty

The Glass Rose

The Glass Rose

Eyes wide open I lie on the sheets
The fan turns and whirs, the ceiling looks so familiar
Where have I seen it before?

The sun sets and rises
Feelings come and go
Each day is as before

Standing at the doorway
Your shadow cast itself on me
Bringing memories of happiness
Unable to shake it off

Like a rose you are, a child of spring
So full of innocence and joy
A beauty that endures, yet pricks and defies

Cast in glass the rose forever
As the bud turns to leaves, the colours live and breathe
Cast in glass the rose forever
With the sun’s rays trapped inside

The ceiling looks the same
As the sun sets on the horizon
Each day is as before

The bells have rung the time has come
I cannot find the words to say my last goodbye
Cast in glass the rose forever is

Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes?

Herein opens another new chapter in my life, a new beginning. For I have already stepped inside the tomes of a dusty old instituition and resumed my years of scholarly learning, though I do not, by profession, aspire to be one. My duty to the country has been temporarily completed and they are thus satisfied enough. Though there are occasional bouts of longing for the mates that went through thick and thin with you, it cannot be helped. Life goes on, with or without them, whether you want it to or not. Significantly, I am all alone again, akin to without "kith nor kin". Foreseen are the days of walks by the lonely seas, of hearing the incessant waves lapping upon the sandy shores of consciousness.

But I shall resolve to find solace within the comfort of my bosom mate, my pen and my journal. Do not be mistaken. I do have close acquaintances. But at times, there is a need to retreat into your inner self, to reconnect with your spiritual being. The world is harsh and this is my only means of escape to evade the poisonous sting of reality's whip. I seem to be rambling again. But this is only usual. Expect this from time to time. Where else can my frustrations be directed at?

It is only at the behest of my alter ego that I am putting this into electronic form. For there are some things that have to be made known. Some things to be shared. And may these be one of those.I hope. With that, I leave you with the mad rantings of yours truly.

Yours truly

Aristocrat