The King and Delka & Moiromma: the Cold Planet [Parts 25 and 26]
The King and Delka[Split Mawkishness-on Moiromma /Part V]
I have sought out friendsOnly to find rawnessOf their passion;And the uniformity Of their vision.
Who out there can knowMy cerebral verve?
(Only the long dead)
By King Moir I
Ah! the aimless cosmos come back to his mind as he stands on his balcony looking up into he eerie dark. This he proclaimed to the ski: that evil and ugliness are simply ornamental bells attached to a being's backbone; his tail in old age [he is now 500-years old]; crude as old age maybe, '?it has its frightful indisposed pride,' he mumbles. It all gives him reason to love with hate, mix it up, mold it together, revolt with it; thus it turns into abhorrence and envy; flimsy as it may be, it wasn't so in the beginning of his youthful kingship-he reasons, but it is now. Hence, he made a judgment, which ended up in his dramatic interest in Delka, the general's wife, young and beautiful wife (the general being his old and faithful friend). And so he told himself all this, as he stood there looking into the bleak eldritch dark skies, becoming more nauseous and repulsive with a bitter filled mind.
Amidst the chaos of his mind-befitting for future kings after him, he would set a precedent for madness in his rulership, one that had allowed, or would allow unquenched desires not be questioned by any should he dare to chase them. Consequently, he came to Delta (the general lying ill in his bed now dying slowly, too slowly for the king); said he, the king in a whisper on his balcony to her,
"I want you to kill your husband, or I shall kill you," it was his desire to have her talking, and she knew it." He knew flesh had its weakness, and she was young, and he was hungry for her, lustful for her, and she wanted years to live, and he wanted pleasure at his fingertips, control, and the touch of her lips, her flesh, her every inch was his desire.
Said Delka with a shocking and quivering voice: "But majesty, he is your best friend, and I am your servant, as he is, we would die for you?."
But the king would not hear of such sentimentality, and shook his head saying at the same time: "Sick, sick schmaltziness, that is all it is, he will die anyway soon, and I want you now!"
He now pulled her over to his body, picked her up similar to a bird, she was so light, soft and short, he was all of eight feet tall-over 400-pounds, old but still with some strength. She was a mixture of the inhabitants of the Planet Moiromma, and of his race, one far off somewhere in the solar system.
"Do you defy me?" said the king harshly.
She looked strangely at him, as if to say: who can defy the king. She put on the right face, for the right moment. Henceforth, she made the deal with the king to do as he requested, but with one small requirement. That being, the king should be with her at his bedside while he slept, and should her husband wakeup before the dagger is thrust into his chest, and he overpower her, he'd be there to assist.
Delka had thought the slaying of her husband at the king's request to be quite funny, for the General was old and dying, and would have been proud to have given her to him, as a gift, after he was dead; but envy and greed demanded it sooner, and simply because he had grown accustomed to having what he wanted when he wanted it, it was not to be discussed. She then took the kings dagger from him as planned; both would meet in an hour.
She now so she requested to make sure he'd be sleeping, and accordingly would rub his body down with oils, to insure he was in a dead sleep when the King arrived.
-Now, both were standing by the bedside of the General, his eyes closed, snoring; Delka lifted the dagger up holding it with two hands, stretches up her arms to the heavens with the dagger in place, and for some odd reason, the king noticed she was wobbling, as if she was about to faint (or so he deduced), she then drops the knife on the bed as she falls to the floor, the king catching her in her arms, back turned halfway around from the bedside, almost as if it was staged, too perfect, yet it took the king off guard. The eyes of the General opened up suddenly, like a vipers that had smelled danger; the dagger fell onto the bed, so neatly on to the bed, again as if it was staged, the General picks it up and lunges it into the kings back (what does he have to lose he feels); again and again and again, he stabs the king, until he drops onto the floor.
Delka pleased that all went as planned, let out a sigh, a long sigh from her stomach, that seemed to stop in her chest and then like a bubble burst upward through her windpipe and then out to face gravity, and the world; her loving husband still alive.
At that moment, the General calls for the guards and instructs them to find the mysterious murderer that escaped over the king's balcony. And so the blood of tyranny was handed down to the kings of the future. And it might be noteworthy to mention, Delka's husband died three weeks later a very happy man; and Delka married King Moir II [the dead king's son].
[Written 12/31/04; 4:15 PM at bn finished, 5:08 PM; revised 11:45 PM to 12:30 AM 1/1/05] Revised, 6/2005
Moiromma: the cold Planet [Von-Lexus and the Lost Galaxy VI]
The Cold Planet
Does cold exist? Not really it is simply the absence of heat, or so the inhabitants of Moiromma would say, and have you believe. It is simply a matter of physics, the process of transmitting energy which in their case transmitting energy to absolute zero [-460F] which is the total absence of heat; and may I add, all matter stands still, or is incapable of reactions. Thus, comes the word cold, and to the Moirommalit's, it is old news, as you may already know. But of course, the true native of Moiromma has had his body alternated or remedied to adjust to this dilemma, to survive the planets crudeness, or should we say lack of heat. But again I say this is old news to the person who knows the Moiromma citizen.
And again I repeat anyone who knows the background of this planet, also knows it was not always this way. It was not always cold.This transformation took place about 20,000-BC, earth time. At which this era's inhabitants were injected with a chemical to enhance their body to be able to adjust to the cold. The inner lining of their skin became like leather, as the outer part was more crust like. Actually their skin darkened and became scabbed by the repeated frost-bite (s); the outer layer that is. As for the internal organs, they maintained their posture to a certain degree. Hence, at times one could look frozen, and yet be alive. Much of the planet looked like an Ice Jam.
Von-LexusVon-Lexus was the last living inhabitant of this generation that had fallen mercilessly to the cold; one that could remember the luxurious green grass the planet had at one time; when the skies were unwrinkled with frozen clouds, or its ebbing dark shadowy gray that circled the planet.
He shrugged his shoulders halfheartedly, knowing he'd never see the planet recover from its endless night after night Siberian type Climate; oh, I know I said they had a built in thermostat-sort of, but not to -450F, no, no, it was a good adjustment their forefathers build into them, but not quite that good. And yes, on occasion, some died because of exposure. Some committed suicide out of the humdrum life style they had to live, likewise.
Von-Lexus had a woman he loved, her name was Knuhs, she was young, much, much younger than he, and could not of course remember such days as he could, she was but 40-years old, quite young from a race that could live up to 1100-years, old at 550 to 600, but some had lived to 1100-years of age nonetheless. And Von-Lexus was one whom was close to that. He was the Plato of the planet, the Noah of his race you might say. And one day he had found out a secret, a secret of secrets, it was to change his life, and his life was changed. It was a risk, and he knew it, for once he tired it, he could possibly never return to his home planet, if not die in the process; he wished for his young wife Knuhs to go with him on this journey, and she agreed.
And so it was Von-Lexus with his youthful wife, sought youth himself, and eternal life; found the secret among the archives hidden in the bowels of Moiromma, left by the forefathers. The secret being, there was a space in the universe that was not subject to gravity. Therefore, it was not subject to aging likewise, the reason being, the universe per se, with all its galaxies, solar systems as he understood it were subject to circular motion, as the earths sun pulled from the stars, so the earth pulled from the sun, and earth's moon pulled from earth, creating gravitational attraction to the stars, and there and beyond. And this dark cold place, where light was not allowed, in consequence, it was all dark, and heat was not allowed, it was all cold, and God was not present, thus, it was all evil, this was the place of everlasting life-it was a un-cosmological constant static to or in comparison to the moving universe; for again, all planets, moved in circles. Here asteroids and planets moved mostly by the whizzes of the so called Dead Angels; accordingly this was the infamous, "Prison House for Horrific Angels," in comparison, to earth's Hell, you could say, which was the prison house for demonic beings of course.
It was perhaps God's intentions, and His answer to the destructible angelic beings opposing His view as the Almighty, that he creates such a place called, Prison House for Horrific Angels. And having such beings, being eternal, where else could He put them; surely not in a destructible universe, so he put them aside in an indestructible galaxy within the Universe itself; such a cleaver idea. Sheepishly I admit I know little about this environment but what I heard, and what I heard you are hearing. But Von-Lexus was willing to vacate his home planet with his wife to venture to one of the planets within this galaxy, feeling it would be motionless perhaps and if so, he'd wear heavy armor to keep him grounded; to live eternally with his wife was also a most desirable thing; death was haunting him night and day, to the point it was obsessing him. And so after reading the coded messages written on stone in the vaults, he performed the incantations, and spoke the many spells to harness his inner being for a transformation to this planet via, suicide. It had been done before, where a Moirommalite had programmed themselves, for a certain planet they wished to go to prior to suicide, and ended up there, but it always didn't work that way.
And as Von-Lexus said his last words, having his wife stab him, with his own dagger, his friend Cyrus stood by to stab Knuhs which was their wish, so she could join him thereafter in this spell eternal oblivion. As a result, the blade cut through the heart of Von-Lexus, and he melted onto the ground, becoming simply debris left on a cold, cold planet. As Cyrus grabbed the dagger, extended his hands high in the air to stab Knuhs, she smiled, as he slowly lowered the dagger, and they joined hands together, and become one. She had no intentions to join her husband in a lost galaxy, cold and dark with no rules or salvation, no gravity or hope.
As Von-Lexus woke up on a spinning asteroid, he found himself alone, yelling for his wife, his beautiful, beautiful wife, cleaver wife. Bellowing her name in every direction, yelling and yelling, until his voice became soundless from being horse; thereafter, shadows whizzed by him, slapping his face, and pulling his legs; he was cold, utterly cold, but he couldn't die to escape this torment, nor could he remain on the asteroid as it shifted every which way from the circling angelic-shadows, and he found himself pulled off this asteroid drifting, just drifting, catching the wind of the angelic beings whizzing by him as they went in circles night and day, night and day, night and day; as he yelled "Knuhs???..!"
Note: There have been five parts to this ongoing short story, which is part of "The Cadaverous Planets", this is the last part of this segment, written actually to give better description of the planets history, which was not in the bulk of the stories: January, 2005 [first short story]; 6/2005 reviewed.
Death & the Supernatural: Poetry/Five Poems
The Merchant of Copan [In English and Spanish]
The Plane from Iquitos [1959-Part One]
Iquitos & the AmazonPart One
Two Poems with Triggers [and a commentary]
So Many Einstein's
Ambiguity and Abstraction in Bob Dylan?s Lyrics
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Ode to Quetzalcóatl
Life is a Fantasy
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An Old Wood Pile [a poem with notes]
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Let's follow the poet to hisHell and heaven! Count hisGhosts and dilemma's?
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You Lost Your Last Gamble and Me
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Poetry in a Nutshell
Poetry is more than just rhyming and prose that is in meters and verse. It is an art form. It is something that can not be judged by its cover and can not be critisized to the point where it just "sucks." Poetry is about expression. Poetry expresses the way we feel on a certain subject through imagery and other senses. It helps us deal with our daily problems, be it good or bad.
Its What She Didnt Say
When I hear your voice inside my head it makes me think of you every single day as I fight back tears of sadness and wonder if you're okay
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Expressing an Emotion - The Art of Writing Poetry
Writing poetry is an art, a way of expression, finding meaning in few words. A melody of passion flowing out onto the pages, words that flow into each other and yet express the inner most thoughts and feelings of those who read the words. Writing poetry is a gift, a wonderful gift, being able to illuminate words so that they form a picture, express a feeling and share a thought in so few words. Unlike telling a story or writing a novel that explains every intricate detail a poem leaves you to draw your own conclusion. Writing poetry can be a healing process, putting down on paper all the emotions locked up inside ones head, a way of remembering and a way of re-living. Poetry has many forms from free verse to sonnet but all poems tell a story, a story of words, words wrapped around each other in such away that they flow together, locked in meaning. The poem below is titled "Playing" and every time I read this poem I cannot help but smile, as too will any mother reading this poem. See if you smile.
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The Time Has Come and Buzzing
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Three Poems (While in Transition/English and Spanish)
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