Saturday, January 20, 2007

The Man And The Genie

Once there was a man traveling through the desert. He had been traveling for many days and many nights, without meeting any other travelers. One day, as he was traveling, he discovered that he was running out of water. He began looking for a well, but he could not find one. Being thirsty and tired from the heat, he decided to rest in a cave that was situated halfway up a rock formation near the road. He scrambled up the rock, leaving his camel outside.

Within the cave it was cool, with a strange scent that the man seemed to remember. Suddenly, he spotted a bowl with incense burning in it. He cautiously looked about, and called out, "Hello? Is there anyone here?" It was a small cave, and he could see that no one was in it. The smell of incense began to grow stronger, and he noticed the incense swirling around in the bowl. As he was watching it, a man appeared before him. There was no flash of light, nor was the appearance dramatic. The man was simply there.

"Who- who are you, sir? I am merely a tired traveler, looking for a place to rest. I saw the cave, and not realizing it was yours, came inside it. I hope I did not intrude upon you." The man stood regarding the traveler, and then replied, "I am a genii. I will give you gifts, if you give me something in return." The man realized that the man must be one of the genies of legend, and that to refuse would be losing a great opportunity. "Sir, I will take one of your gifts, if I can give you something worth it in return."

The genii looked at him with a blank look, and then asked him, "I see you have a woman you desire. Her skin is dark, and her hair is curly. She has dusky eyes, and does not wish to marry you. Neither does her father wish marriage between you two. Would you like them to become accustomed to the idea, even wanting it?" "Sir, can you- can you give love? True love?" The genii replied, "I can." "Then do it, please do it sir!" the man cried. "I will require a price; your finger." "What? My finger? What do you mean?" the man implored. "Lay your hand upon that stone. Then extend your fingers to their fullest extent, and I will cut off your left little finger with this knife." "My- my finger? This is your price? My little finger for my love?" "Yes." The traveler looked at his hand, focused on his finger. He moved it, bending and unbending. Watching it move smoothly, its excellent engineering. He looked at it a moment longer, then replied, "Yes. For love, this is nothing."

The genii led the man over to a rock, and told him to lay his hand upon it. The man placed his hand on the cool stone, felt it smooth underneath his fingers. He trembled, and tried to stop his hand from shaking. Then the genii, with a swift cut, chopped of the man's finger. The man clutched at his hand in pain, and held it moaning. The genii gave him herbs to stop the bleeding, and then the man looked at his hand. He watched the glistening stump of his finger, absorbing the new absence. Then the genii spoke. "Would you give another finger for your love's health? Her long life, free from sickness?" The man thought, pondered. Then he said, "What is pain for me, if I'm doing it for her? I will do it. A man can be successful without two fingers." The ceremony was repeated, then the genii spoke. "A drought will take the life of all those in your village. Another finger, and the wells shall not go dry." The man thought. Was he, who had already sacrificed two of his fingers, to give a third for his village? He decided yes, he shall. For who could turn down the chance to save his home at such a comparatively small cost? "Yes. I shall save the village from drought."

Again and again, the genii offered the man chances to forestall various disasters, until the health of the village was assured for hundreds of years to come. The man was curling up in pain, now only having the fingers of his right hand left. The genies price had started to take on a greater significance. One finger for each disaster, and two toes for the same. When then man had quieted down, the genii spoke again. "Your family will be large. You shall have handsome, strong sons, prides of the father. Beautiful daughters, prides of the mother. And when you are not yet an old man, an enemy militia shall come and kill you all. You shall watch your children and wife die, and then your life shall be taken. I can ensure that the militia will bypass your town....But it will cost all of the fingers on your right hand." The man, confused with pain, considered this. "Genii, what choice do you give me? Death for me and my family, or being almost a cripple!" the man cried "How can I make this choice?" The genii replied, "How can you not make this choice?"

The man considered it, then made his decision. His hand trembled, violently shaking as he laid his hand on the stone, now slick with blood. Though the day was hot, the man felt chilled and cold. When the cuts came, five quickly in a row, the man yelled aloud. His pain was audible, but the genii looked on impassively. After the man was sitting, crouched against the side of the cave, the genii said, "Your sacrifices are impressive. But so far they have been only for your village and family. What would you do for everyone? All people under Heaven's dome? Would you guarantee that someday, all diseases will be vanquished? No one shall ever be sick again? No mother shall have to watch her child sicken and die in front of her own eyes. No more death due to sicknesses. Would you do that for all people of the world, people you shall never meet, nor know?" The man sat silent, then replied, "What is your price?" "Your left eye." the genii replied. "How can you ask me this? I've already given up so much, and now you ask even more of me? How can you do this?" the man asked. The genii watched him, waiting for a reply. Finally, after sitting in silence for many minutes, the man said, "I shall give up my eye. I should take this chance, for it may be one that no one else will have." "Then, I shall remove your eye," the genii replied.

By now, with all of his fingers and toes removed, and now one of his eyes, the man could barely keep from writhing in pain. When the genii opened his mouth again, the man swiftly interrupted the genii. "Genii, I cannot take anymore. I have gone through so much pain, that I should be dead. I am maimed. When, and if, I make it back to my village, my love will love a cripple. Do not ask anymore of me. You have done good things, but I cannot take the price anymore." "But what would you give," the genii asked, "to eventually end all wars and conflict? No more fighting among any tribes, no more fighting among nations and creeds." "That would be a good thing, genii," the man replied, "But I will not agree. I cannot give in to this offer. I can only imagine your price. My leg? My arm?" "Your other eye," the genii said. "Your other eye, and all wars shall someday end." The man began to weep. "This- this makes no sense! All these horrors of our world, and it my chance to stop them! But, I cannot! All of this worldly suffering can be stopped through my own! But, I cannot! This- this is not right, that I should be asked this..." "What is your choice then," the genii said, "Keep your sight and leave the world full of war? Or lose your eye, and bring peace?"

The man gave his answer.

He lay on the floor of the cave, slumping in pain. Panting, panting, hoping the pain would end. The genii began to speak, when the man cried, "Foul genii! Do not speak anymore! I do not wish to hear your voice! It grates on my ears, offering offers I cannot ignore, but which will only cause me pain! Nothing more, I implore you! Be silent! Leave me be!" Then the genii leaned in close to the man, and whispered, "I can do this. Give me your memory, erase your past, and art shall grow in the world. No more madness, except for the glorious kind which is felt by the poets as they weave their tales. Would you give this to the world, in exchange for your past?" "YES!" the man cried, "Yes! Do this, damned genii, and erase my past! Make me forget everything, so the pain shall be erased also!" The genii waved his hand, and the man could suddenly not remember anything. Except the pain. Waves of pain would come, and be forgotten as they appeared. The man could not help screaming. He was in agony, left experiencing nothing but pain.

Then the genii said in a loud voice to him, "You have done much. And as a reward for your services, I will give your back your fingers and toes. They shall be there, stiff and painful, but you shall have them. I will give you back your sight, though it shall be blurry and like that of an old man's. I will give you back your past, but leave you with headaches. All this I will do, to honor your sacrifice for the good of the world, and people you shall never meet." "Thank you, genii," the man said. He then blacked out. When he awoke, he was in the arms of the women he loved.

Another "Lovey" Poem, Cause That's What Poetry's All About

You claim to enjoy being "just friends"
So I try to think of something funny to say
You claim to be my friend
But you're not, 'cause you'd have to be that much more or less
To be hurting me this way
You claim to like playing this game
You play for fun, while I play to win (your heart)
Best friends, and miles apart
Angst is real, and so is the rain
And wind, snow, love and other things I can't explain

Let's try this one more time
I'll say will you? you say I do.
We'll go down in history, 'cause it'll be true
But I'm just looking at this scene through cracked glasses
Broken lenses, a rainy day
It must be the cold church, the raindrops on the windows
And the graveyard outside that makes me feel this way
I pray to God for a storm
I pray for losing myself in thunder and lightning
I pray for summer, I pray for love
I wonder where you go when you dream, my love
Arrogance never healed broken hearts
But it's the easy way out

If I don't hear some rock n'roll
I think I might go crazy
Real music is acoustic, electricity is just lazy
But guitars come in to save me
And being in a bad place just means that a better one is up ahead
I think this could work
I could make you happy
Unfortunately, I don't think I'm the only one
Just so you know, you're the song I know best
And thinking of you makes me forget the rest

Thursday, January 18, 2007

For We Know…

The world spins with dirty fervor
And humans writhe in the mud
Blood is spilled, and wrath is poured
Sons hold guns up to the heads of their fathers
Daughters cry aloud with angry voices
Opposing their mothers, and the world that brought them up
Humanity spins with dirty lust
Abusing God's holy trust
The poets sob in quiet words
And whisper to themselves; how have we sunk so low?
While the rest of the people shout in loud exclamations
"We're the best, we'll kill the rest"
Always coming to blows

Ask us, the quiet children
Ask us, the ones who know
We hide in the corners, in the hallways and closets
We stay out of the spotlight, afraid to say
What we know; that the world spins on
And men sink low
Ask us, we'll tell, for we know, we know

You Make The Moves, I'll Aim The Spotlight

This is my written confession
And I can't get enough of you
But to continue; I'm always thinking of you
Day and night, sleeping or awake
I dedicate this chapter of my life to your memory
And hope you'll read it all
(In between the lines)
And outside them too

I writing my written confession,
But I need to get a little loose
Capitalization just limits my expression
And for the next stanza I'm borrowing e. e.'s punctuation

i; love; you
it's a summertime love, luv
and i cant get enough of you; i cant get enough of you:
i must have you
i must let you go
maybe it's just a fleeting-love
or just lust/infatuation
but i doubt it
when i see your face, hear your voice
and read your words
i get a second chance, straight from God
and ive been getting these 2nd chances
for a while now[you bring me back
to where i feel like i belong]
come on my pretty, powerful lady
let us dance, let us sing, let us act like buffoons
ive waited oh so long to be free from pain
and youre my paradise of novocain

It's good to get out
From under the rock of custom
But patterns are like a love affair
You can't let them go,
when the sunlight plays on her long smooth hair
And she tells you the way to go, and where
{I'm writing my written confession…}

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Don't Forget, Or I Might Not Stop It

Maybe we'll all go down in history
And maybe we'll be the heroes that time forgot
And maybe this is all a lie
But don't blame me, this is who I am
And after all, however much a lie it is, you have to admit it looks nice
And after all, however big a liar you are
I can't help but admit you look nice

But if I am a lie
Maybe it isn't a good one
But I'm gonna say me again
And tell you me until you accept it all
Swallow me hook, line and sinker

But perhaps I can tell you
Maybe you're close enough
"I'm-"
I dunno, maybe you're not close enough
I can take you away
We can get in my car and drive away
And never see our families, this town or world again

I keep on trying
And somehow lying
I keep on trying
But I keep on falling behind
Some people say poetry is just a waste of words
Maybe they're right
And others say that seeing is just a waste of sight
And the pessimists can't always be right?
But I'm not looking forward to another lonely night
(The cold gets in through corners and cracks
Scalds poor boys with breaking backs)

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

So You Know, I'm The Best, Right?

If the world just got a little edgy
Maybe a little more hardcore
I can explain it; the guy over there just turned his amp up
And everybody's hitting the floor
We can try to stay out of the motion
Or jump right in, and which is the better choice?
Personally, I'm in favor of going home
But not alone, if you know what I mean (no, never alone)

Three days later and I keep kicking myself
'Cause I've forgotten how to be a friend
How to watch out for your best interests
But how was I to figure it out
I've made myself cut out for this speaker-pounding life
Give me three days and your heart
I'll make it all up to you
You can only scream into a microphone and shred on a guitar for a little while
Before the tears fall from your eyes for the life you're destorying
You say I'm a good listener
And I'm sure I could be if I took these headphones off

But we keep on trying, and we keep on dying
Widows and orphans keep on crying
But rock is just a synonym for breathing
And everyone deserves something
And I think I deserve you
Which is a shame 'cause you deserve everything but me
The best music always makes you feel worst
And yelling out the truth, you can't tell who it'll hurt
But everyone, every one person on their own
Deserves what they got coming to them
And I can't keep going crazy, cause the days just keep on flowing
I'm sure someday I'll confess it all, and I hope you'll be able to take the knowing

Monday, January 15, 2007

The Best Mistakes Are Only Fakes

It was never about being the best
It was just about laughing at myself and my mistakes
The goof-ups and outtakes
All the coincidences and lucky breaks
But they all joined in and turned the laughter sour
And I'm still making mistakes
But now I'm not even trying

Maybe this is just another mistake
But if the world keeps quiet, maybe he wouldn't find out
And I think it could, cause poets like me have lots of influence
Over the inscrutable workings of fate
But give twenty monkeys ten minutes
And they might get lucky and come up with sentiment
But I only try because I can't take laughing at myself anymore

I'm trying to say no
And trying to forget what the smell of failure tastes like
Oh, wishing for the same old story
Is just wishing for stagnation
And my best friends all say I'm great
Funny how I'm the one who makes mistakes
But again, I'm only trying 'cause I'm can't laugh at any more mistakes
And all we can strive for is trying

Sunday, January 14, 2007

Say, Who's Reading This?

Well, who have we here? Who is reading this? I know I have a readership out there, but I just don't know who they are. If you read this, please introduce yourself! Leave a comment! Say Hello, My Name is etc! While hit counters can tell you people are listening, they can't tell you who the listeners are. I'd love to know who the people who've put the 300+ visits on my site, so, again, please introduce yourself! Well, that's all I really have to say right now. I'll look forward to writing more poetry and thoughts, and reading your comments.

Walter