The Princess Chronicles: 3

[PrinceMyshkin]

I inhale her messages
as if they were some sort
of hyper-oxygen. I try
and try again
to eradicate the impropriety
of my desire for her
but of course in doing so
I fan the flame.

I fan the flame.
I am not proud
nor pleased to do so but
I fan the flame.
As if I were some idiot
fire-fighter turned arsonist,
I fan the flame.

I change my mind about her
every minute or so
but in changing it
cannot remember
what it was before.

I fan the flame.
I fan the flame.

[motherhubbard]

I fan the flame.
I am not proud
nor pleased to do so but
I fan the flame.
As if I were some idiot
fire-fighter turned arsonist,
I fan the flame.


I think this is so well said. I'm sure we've all been that arsonist at some point, but you caught the push/pull of it here.




I especially liked this part





I change my mind about her
every minute or so
but in changing it
cannot remember
what it was before.

[CdnReader]

I change my mind about her
every minute or so
but in changing it
cannot remember
what it was before.


I understand this perfectly, Jer. Absolutely and unutterably perfectly. Thanks for sharing this.

[Sweets America]

Oh Jerry... I sense all your sorrow and self destruction in that...

I feed my brains with his love,
As the hyper-oxygen it has become
His spoken words make the written ones alive
And embrace my soul with their warm blanket

But I protest, I protest,
Sometimes not even knowing
Against what I am fighting

And I fan the flame too

We’re both burning together
In the warmth of destruction
As our souls passionately make love
And desperately struggle at the same time

I am not proud either
And my mind is volatile
Something is sreaming ‘No!’
While my hand searches for his hand
And fears that it will no longer be there.

But what can we do?
What can we do?

[PrinceMyshkin]

Oh Jerry... I sense all your sorrow and self destruction in that...

I feed my brains with his love,
As the hyper-oxygen it has become
His spoken words make the written ones alive
And embrace my soul with their warm blanket

But I protest, I protest,
Sometimes not even knowing
Against what I am fighting

And I fan the flame too

We’re both burning together
In the warmth of destruction
As our souls passionately make love
And desperately struggle at the same time

I am not proud either
And my mind is volatile
Something is sreaming ‘No!’
While my hand searches for his hand
And fears that it will no longer be there.

But what can we do?
What can we do?


But what can we do?
What can we do?
We could break up with each other,
of course, which would be
the sensible thing to do.

We could each go out
and search for more plausible lovers.
They are everywhere!
Quite decent, quite
loveable other men and women.

We could tone things down
by, say, 95%, and see how we
might manage that raging,
remaining 5%.

And when all else fails,
We can love each other.

Helas, what else is there to do?

[Sweets America]

Parting from each other?
Letting go of your hand?
And when we need a hug,
Finding only cold emptiness?

Will you search in
The more plausible lover
A mirror of Sophie’s soul?
And now that the passage of delight
Between my mind’s most lovely thighs
Has experienced the strength of your Love,
Will I ever find that beauty
In the more plausible lover?

Always questions...
But, as I believe,
Time will be the key...
Time will make us grow
Something else
In which fifty years will be
Of no importance

Give me a friendly hug, my Prince,
And let us taste more of
Each other’s words
Of each other's world
Let us talk, let us think, let us try
And find the answer to the question
Of what to do ―

When humans cannot be with the one
They cannot either be without.

[Pendragon]

Parting from each other?
Letting go of your hand?
And when we need a hug,
Finding only cold emptiness?

Will you search in
The more plausible lover
A mirror of Sophie’s soul?
And now that the passage of delight
Between my mind’s most lovely thighs
Has experienced the strength of your Love,
Will I ever find that beauty
In the more plausible lover?

Always questions...
But, as I believe,
Time will be the key...
Time will make us grow
Something else
In which fifty years will be
Of no importance

Give me a friendly hug, my Prince,
And let us taste more of
Each other’s words
Of each other's world
Let us talk, let us think, let us try
And find the answer to the question
Of what to do ―

When humans cannot be with the one
They cannot either be without. A thought, mes amis.

Shepherd I

Without pain there would be no joy
Without sorrow happiness would soon grow old
We call it wrong we feel emotion
That we think we should not feel
Come and listen to me...

I spent my entire childhood and teenage years,
Plotting the death of a man
He was my own dad, but all I ever knew of him
Was a black and white picture
My momma kept hanging on the wall in her room...

I was 25 when a knock came on my door,
The wife came and got me from out of the back room
And I saw him standing there on my rug in my house
I won't try to claim I still wasn't hurt or mad--
But all I could see was how the grey hair stood out on dad...

We never did become close, just civil,
But I never denied his time to spend with my kids
I'm not a doctor and I'm not a psychic
But I know death when I see it in the eyes of a man
And I knew he didn't have all that much time left...

I can't kick myself for the way that I felt
It was hard growing up having to work while others played
And I know for a fact that he came back to town and never came to see me
Did I have a right to my anger? Yeah, I did.
Everyone pays anyway in the end...

You can't block your feelings so don't even try
You can't control your emotions, just don't let them rule your life
Every sheep ever born strays now and then
That's why a shepherds staff has two ends--
One to pull you back home when wander away,
And one to crack your bum for doing it too..

Pendragon
© 8/12/07

[PrinceMyshkin]

A thought, mes amis.

Shepherd I

Without pain there would be no joy
Without sorrow happiness would soon grow old
We call it wrong we feel emotion
That we think we should not feel
Come and listen to me...

I spent my entire childhood and teenage years,
Plotting the death of a man
He was my own dad, but all I ever knew of him
Was a black and white picture
My momma kept hanging on the wall in her room...

I was 25 when a knock came on my door,
The wife came and got me from out of the back room
And I saw him standing there on my rug in my house
I won't try to claim I still wasn't hurt or mad--
But all I could see was how the grey hair stood out on dad...

We never did become close, just civil,
But I never denied his time to spend with my kids
I'm not a doctor and I'm not a psychic
But I know death when I see it in the eyes of a man
And I knew he didn't have all that much time left...

I can't kick myself for the way that I felt
It was hard growing up having to work while others played
And I know for a fact that he came back to town and never came to see me
Did I have a right to my anger? Yeah, I did.
Everyone pays anyway in the end...

You can't block your feelings so don't even try
You can't control your emotions, just don't let them rule your life
Every sheep ever born strays now and then
That's why a shepherds staff has two ends--
One to pull you back home when wander away,
And one to crack your bum for doing it too..

Pendragon
© 8/12/07

Many thanks to you for your sweetness, and with the Princess' consent we will appoint you the official guardian of our love for each other.

What you say about your father is deeply touching to me, because I too had a faher who could have loved (I suspect) if only he knew that not only was it safe to do so, but that perhaps it is the only safety we can know in this world that is so much more hospitable to suspicion and mistrust than to love.

[Sweets America]

As the Princess in question, I am ok with having you, Pendragon, as the guardian of our love. Thank you for your very touching words.

[PrinceMyshkin]

As the Princess in question, I am ok with having you, Pendragon, as the guardian of our love. Thank you for your very touching words.

And let me tell you, Pen, that Her Royal Highness is NOT an easy marker. It might bring tears to your tender heart if I were to recount how hard I worked to get even so much as a smile from her!

[Sweets America]

Ahahaha!!!! :lol:
I know, I know...

[PrinceMyshkin]

Parting from each other?
Letting go of your hand?
And when we need a hug,
Finding only cold emptiness?

Will you search in
The more plausible lover
A mirror of Sophie’s soul?
And now that the passage of delight
Between my mind’s most lovely thighs
Has experienced the strength of your Love,
Will I ever find that beauty
In the more plausible lover?

Always questions...
But, as I believe,
Time will be the key...
Time will make us grow
Something else
In which fifty years will be
Of no importance

Give me a friendly hug, my Prince,
And let us taste more of
Each other’s words
Of each other's world
Let us talk, let us think, let us try
And find the answer to the question
Of what to do ―

When humans cannot be with the one
They cannot either be without.


If I may borrow from your words
it seems to me that coldness
has been banished from our territory
and there remains only warmth,
heat and the flames of a hell
that has been tamed.

Will I search
in some more plausible lover
for a mirror of Sophie’s soul?
What choice have I
with all the barriers between us,
but I will search, my love,
with eyes that have been blinded by your sun.

And you will find beauty as great as
or greater than my own
in every shining surface in your house,
in every reflective store window
in the streets of your beloved village,
in every pair of eyes that shine back at you
what you dare to let them see.

As for the questions you and I ask
until our fronts are red
with the sting of them,
let's go on asking and asking,
which may, after all, be our
own way of making love.

[Sweets America]

Yes, coldness is gone, my love,
As the fire in my soul has been revived
And burns with the flames of your desire

In your quest for a new love,
Tell me what you find
Tell me who reaches
The depths of your heart
And I won’t protest ―
No more What?? What??

Do you think the plausible lover
Who still remains a shadow
Will find the way to my heart?
Do you think he can fill my soul
With as much joy as you do?
Will you give him the key
And allow him to enter the secret place
From which still emanates
The scent of your body
And the echoes of your words?

Now my love,
Until we go towards opposite ways,
Until your last goodbye to me,
Untill I turn back to see your figure fly away
I will go on plunging myself into your loving arms
And making love with you,
Again and again
Till the virgin in me
Becomes a souvenir

Souvenir of our love
That I will put carefully,
In some place of our own world
That will always be warmed up
By the sun we’ve created.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Yes, coldness is gone, my love,
As the fire in my soul has been revived
And burns with the flames of your desire

In your quest for a new love,
Tell me what you find
Tell me who reaches
The depths of your heart
And I won’t protest ―
No more What?? What??

Do you think the plausible lover
Who still remains a shadow
Will find the way to my heart?
Do you think he can fill my soul
With as much joy as you do?
Will you give him the key
And allow him to enter the secret place
From which still emanates
The scent of your body
And the echoes of your words?

Now my love,
Until we go towards opposite ways,
Until your last goodbye to me,
Untill I turn back to see your figure fly away
I will go on plunging myself into your loving arms
And making love with you,
Again and again
Till the virgin in me
Becomes a souvenir

Souvenir of our love
That I will put carefully,
In some place of our own world
That will always be warmed up
By the sun we’ve created.


There are some souvenirs, my love,
that are not so much representations
of something
but the thing itself.

Though I hold your heart
here, in my trembling hand,
for just a fraction of love’s time,
it will be forever warm and
--look! It throbs! It throbs!

[Sweets America]

My heart, my love,
Is making love with yours
Slowly, then passionately,
Till they both beat faster and faster
Till the joy and longing overwhelms them
Till they come to share one last beat.