there’s this dream, then I’m awake.
Sep 2nd, 2010 by Jack Lhasa
Bad lymric style poetry. Skip it. You’ll thank yourself.
—–
Ahh, painted wings, and pretty things….
They leave their treasures closely
They don’t watch out, and never doubt..
But the wolf will get their clothing.
—
To be sung, not recited.
Jack
I Listen.
Poetry.
UGH.
Jun 15th, 2010 by Jack Lhasa
There’s this dream, then I’m awake.
How many hundreds of times have I written that line in my life? Nearing the thousands at this point I’d imagine. But here I am again, there’s dream, but I’m awake.
A woman I trust betrays me, leaves me alone and wandering. Three women of exquisite beauty play with my heart, dangling me like a marionette, only to brainwash me and leave me for other men. A completely unattractive woman offers her unending devotion, and I decline to walk the streets alone at night, feeling powerful in my deep thoughts.
During the night, as I wander the darkened, warm streets, I have all of the power in the world, but no one to share it with, because of the choices I’d made. At sunrise, I’m trapped in a hive colony of people I know, but cannot acknowledge with more than a nod, and strangers, who keep me away with a velvet rope. Again, I feel like I could do anything, but am too isolated for it to matter.
The hive at the end of the dream, appears often lately. It’s always painted in bright whites, with browns to contrast. There are always many people, and many hall ways and doors. I always feel lost and alone.
The Princess of Swords was there, of course, one of the beauties who left on the arm of another. In a strange turn, I always awake from the dreams with the opposite emotions; energized, loved, needed, accomplished, and powerful.
Dreams are funny things.
Jack
I Listen.
Fragement
Dreams are Funny Things.
May 10th, 2010 by Jack Lhasa
She haunted my dreams again last night. Two nights in a row, after seven years of silence.
She ran from me, and I chased her. Perhaps I was angry that she had left me alone so long, I’m not sure. But I lost her at the docks. I dove into the water after her, but she was no where to be found. As the dream returned to a semi-normal state, she left my mind, as I waited with a friend and the only family I’ve ever really known. Waited in a hospital, as my friend was about to become a father, once again. My cell phone rang a strange tune, and it was her. I frantically ran to the wing of the hospital she was in. She wore a black dress, and the veil of a widow, sitting outside a room. She was crying. I lifted the veil and took her into my arms. She told me she was tired of the chase, tired of running from destiny. She was mine now, and she smiled. I left her there to go check on the child that would soon be joining our world. I soon became lost in the hospital, no matter where I turned it did not lead me to my friends, or to my princess. Becoming frightened, I was now running through the hospital, begging for directions. I tried calling with my phone, but had no luck. I awoke without ever finding The Princess of Swords again, or my friends.
Yesterday, the dream was much more simple. I awoke in my bed to find her curled up beside me. Too real. Way to real. I grabbed her in a tight hug, and as I went to kiss her, I awoke again. Only to find myself alone in my bed. She was a wisp, and I was in a state of disarray for most of the morning. So real, I could touch her brown skin, but not her perfect lips. I was the Hanged Man, once again.
In my youth, I would dream of her often. The dreams of her started my obsession with the idea of the Hanged Man. That was a very long time ago, and she left my dreams some six or seven years ago. Not returning until now. I wake up from these dreams exhilarated, full of fire and energy. But also with a deep sadness sinking in the back of my head, lingering at the top of my reptile brain.
What does it all mean? I have no idea. I believe in a great many things, and my mind is open. Yet, I have spoken harshly on the subject of dream interpretation, and prescience through dreaming my whole life. I’ve always believed that dreams were just the brain’s way of making sense of the days events, as it cataloged them. Perhaps it’s time for me to reconsider dreaming.
Jack
I Listen.
Fragments
#8
The Princess of Swords
May 5th, 2010 by Jack Lhasa
My life has been long, and always bloody. I’m not like most people you might meet on the street. I don’t have a mother or a father. Any family to speak of really. I had a Teacher, a Trainer, and a Commander. This was my family.
The day that I came into being, I first met my Teacher. He greeted me, showing me the outside world, and many realms. That day he taught me to speak, read, and write in every language known to our people. This was a gift we all had, a mind built for language, learning, tactics, and strategy.
The next day, I met my Trainer. He presented me with a long sword, and told me that it was my life. Without the sword I would not exist, and without me, the sword would not exist. Our souls were intertwined, and it felt like an extension of my body more than a weapon. I spent that day sparing with my kinsmen, perfecting my sword technique. The next day he trained me with a variety of weapons for many worlds and many times.
On the third day of this life, I met my Commander. He reviewed my training, and said that I had excellent technique, and more power than most new borns. He gave me a pistol, told me that I would be in the infantry to start, but I would rise fast. Then he sent me back to my Teacher, who spent the next 3 days teaching me tactics and strategy.
On the sixth day, the Teacher began to teach me magic. I picked up on offensive and defensive styles quickly, and he sent me to my Commander with a scroll in hand. He had recommended that my entry to the battlefield be delayed, so that I might perfect some magical techniques. The Commander agreed to this, and my deployment was delayed by seven days.
On the seventh day, I was allowed to rest and reflect. Having only been alive for six days, which were all spent training and learning, all I had to reflect on were the skills I had been taught. I spent the seventh day planning out huge battles in my head and practicing defensive and illusionary magics.
For the next week, I spent my mornings with my Teacher learning theory and magic, and my evenings with my Trainer, constantly sparing. Again, I was allowed to rest on the seventh day, but was told that I would join the others in battle the following morning.
I fought on the front lines, with an infantry one thousand strong. We clashed with gruesome beasts, for a reason I knew not. I had a bloodlust, I enjoyed the slaughter, so I did not ask for what we fought. The battles continued without rest for what I can only imagine was many years. I rose in rank, soon managing my own troop of one hundred. Even though I was in command, I always took point, leading my soldiers.
My battle prowess was noticed by my superiors and I was called off the battlefield to meet with my Commander once again. He told that I was to be the guard of a very important man, Malachai of the Azure. I was to guard him as if his life were my own. He took me to the estate of Malachai, introduced us, then stepped out of my life, or so I thought.
Serving as Malachai’s personal guard was not as glorious as I had imagined. He was a dull man, that spoke only of things for which I did not care. It was a boring assignment, and my bloodlust went unsated. There were few attempted on his life, and they were never very talented assassins. To try and cope with my loss of worthy opponents, I began to listen to Malachai’s talks with his guests, fellow courtesans and politicians.
My mind developed beyond battle, and I began to read the books in the estate in my free time. After a while, I was tempted by that ever so troublesome word; “why.” After many years of thought and observance, I asked Malachai for a leave to see my old Commander. I needed to know why I had fought for so long. What reason had I killed for?
The Commander was still there, where I had first met him. I asked him the questions I had long pondered. Why did we fight, and what did we fight for? To my surprise, he became enraged. He took my pistol, and began chanting a spell. I stood, awestruck, watching him. He stopped chanting and touched the hilt of my sword. An intense pain ran through my body, and the world turned black and red as I fell unconscious.
When I awoke, I was lying in a large, blackened crater. My skin burnt, and my wings torn to shreds, I ached with pain. I felt fear, confusion, and loneliness for the first time. Shaking, battling these new emotions, and the pain in my body I walked away from the crater.
I examined myself, glad to see my sword still strapped to my side. I had burns and bruises all over my body, and my wings were barely there at all. I focused my mind, and created a healing aura around myself. I could tell I was beginning to heal, but even that hurt, and soon I passed out from the pain.
The pain was mostly gone when I awoke. I looked at the world around me for the first time. It was a strange place, like I had never seen in all of my years of battle. I walked aimlessly for days. I began to feel a curling in my stomach that was new to me. I soon reached a small settlement, where the farmers agreed to giving me room and board for chopping wood and tilling their fields. They wanted to hear my stories over and over around the table at night. They were not like me or my kinsmen. They were smaller, with ears that sharpened to a tip. They did not know of the land from which I had come.
After a few weeks with the farmers, I decided to move along to the next town, to see if I could find answers to my questions. I was a nomad for many years, reading what I could, and listening to the stories of many a people. Everyone wanted to hear my stories, but none could offer me the answers I so desperately wanted. So, I would travel on.
Mar 28th, 2010 by Jack Lhasa
Many of you that know me well, know that my favorite book, and the start of all my personal spiritual beliefs, is Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah by Richard Bach. Skimming through the pages today, I stumbled on a piece of conversation between the main character(the author) and Don Shimoda, the messiah from the title. It hit me pretty hard today for some reason, so I thought I should share it.
“You know the past and the future of all things. You know exactly where we’re going!” (exclaims Richard)
He(Shimoda, our reluctant messiah) sighed. “Yeah. But I try not to think about it.”
It’s a funny line, but also very deep, and a little sad. Something to think about.
Jack
I Listen.
Basic Ideology 101
Aside
The Battle for Focus
Mar 6th, 2010 by Jack Lhasa
So, I’ve updated a few things on Loki Listens today, and I’d like to take a moment to bring your attention to them.
Now, at the bottom of every post and page, you can find Sociable buttons! This makes it easy to share my posts with all your friends and neighbors through whatever social network you prefer(or all of them!).
I’ve also added a formspring widget in the right sidebar, so you can ask me anything directly from Loki Listens! Ask anything at all! I don’t care how ridiculous or inappropriate the question is, it’ll receive an answer. To go with this widget, there’s an RSS feed above it with previous questions and answers.
Lots of new stuff.
Jack
I Listen.
update.
Mar 1st, 2010 by Jack Lhasa
I am guilty, Lord, but I am also a lover — and I am one of your best people, as you know; and yea tho I have walked in many strange shadows and acted crazy from time to time and even drooled on many High Priests, I have not been an embarrassment to you…
-Dr. Hunter S. Thompson: Screwjack
Jack
I Listen.
Basic Ideology 101
Lesson #29
The Battle of Life
Feb 8th, 2010 by Jack Lhasa
The Tetragrammaton is irreversible.
I cannot see the light.
To force the Holy into action.
To bring His presence
back into Creation.
I know your name.
But you are not your
brothers’ keeper.
Consecration
spreads it’s wings.
It is the force that
turns the world.
It is the change
that time cannot deny.
It is the dream
that you never forget.
It is the Shaman
with no regrets.
Jack
I Listen.
Poetry
Jan 18th, 2010 by Jack Lhasa
I’ve just posted the 3rd piece of The Tribe of the Star, on HubPages. It is post-apocalyptic science fiction, and may form into a novella. In this piece we meet Malig-Jon’s cousin, the courier, Runa Dag.
Miss the first 2? Check them out here:
Tribe of the Star Part 1
Tribe of the Star Part 2
Jack
I Listen.
HubPages
Fiction
Jan 17th, 2010 by Jack Lhasa
… in purgatory you knew that you were going either to hell or to heaven, and it was up to you where you went. With the joys and freedom of heaven as a carrot, you strove like hell in purgatory. You knew the theory of how to get the ticket to heaven. But the practice… ah, the practice… that eluded you. You snatched it away from yourself.
-Philip Jose Farmer: Gods of Riverworld
Jack
I Listen.
Basic Ideology 101
Lesson #28
The Battle of Limbo
The Sub-Blog
