Raedan-Fyr

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XII by Raedan-Fyr, literature

Literature

XII

(Back then we used to ‘knock about’. Best mates ‘running riot’ and ‘causing murders’ -although I cannot Recall any fires, and we never did see a dead body- We were poor but had all the wealth we ever knew Which stretched from Acton to the ‘Bush, Our whole World. It was Fish & Chips down the bottom, And the boys going mental with the Salt. We could Eat half the world between us and never put on a pound. And down at the factory we would make ‘em laugh, ‘Giving it’ over the fence larger than life. -And the girl that could never come between us!- And that one night every Christmas M

XI by Raedan-Fyr, literature

Literature

XI

I saw thee far above the binnean, As sullen thoughts drifted away. The Siren sounds no more within, But there upon the moorlands lay. What more could I see in thee? Of green hue beneath the restless Sky; Of the Mainland and the rapturous sea: Such splendour right before my eye. I see thee orchid and thistle, Thy bloom in loveliest ways, With heather’s so flush and bristle Unaware of my joyful praise. Moss finds a home upon the cragean, Before the Sun I find my peace; Thy rays thaw what once was frozen And to all life did give thy lease. Overhead the Gulls fly to and fro, Half grey, the other half white And I half wished with them to

X by Raedan-Fyr, literature

Literature

X

I have long drifted in this ceaseless end Unto nowhere in thy laboured wear, With little to learn and less to tend And for thou love’s I did not care. Thy rituals are a forlorn pass, And thy vanity I have outgrown In mirrors both stained and crass Whose image is not mine own And for thy love’s I shall not care Nor for my tender-taken breath From thee could I part without fear And wearily unto my death.

IX by Raedan-Fyr, literature

Literature

IX

Often times I don’t eat Or care for my skin, And more often of late I feel old and thin. Parted from happiness, To such a degree That even thy loneliness, Feels empty to me. ‘Not one for all Seasons, Much like the snow Is idle ’til the Winter With nowhere to go . Upon thy love’s ardour As happiness lay, Mere words can I conjure With nothing to say. Such winds could not endure- Thy love swept away. Thou are more so to me, Than any love bring, And woulds’t thou but love me, Forsaking my own heart, And with all my heart would’st I sing- But love is an echo, Heard now in my s

VIII by Raedan-Fyr, literature

Literature

VIII

There is a Chamber that was built far beneath the Sea, By whom I do not know. Why? I cannot foresee, An aeon may travel all the while it will be A Chamber that resides beneath the Sea. -And none shall draw breath within the Alcazar, In this Land unfrequented by you - or by me In this Land unearthed and yet there it shall be Home to a Chamber in the depths of the Sea. Beyond the hinterland where no waters’ carry, Nor ship will tarry, where the winds’ never blow There is a cavity hidden within a secret cave On a Land where the Sea shalt never go. -And no oecumene could descry how deep it may dwell, Nor an eye did see who saw the

VII by Raedan-Fyr, literature

Literature

VII

(Cans!- and a green pouch of Virginia tobacco On the table like markers on a Mariner’s chart - the peripheries of longitude and latitude- A child needs no reminder Dad is having a bad day! More Cans! and I must perform my duty with a trip to the offy’, Though I’m no stranger to this Odyssey – which ends. With eight Cans slapped on a counter - A Can For every year I’ve spent on God’s Earth. Nine beers into the eighth revolution, the Stoic Man remains unfamiliar although the drill is consistent, [A label reads ‘best served below room temperature’]. The trove is cold and I can feel my breath

VI by Raedan-Fyr, literature

Literature

VI

Twelve minutes I counted [and a dozen or so thereafter]. This tenure Contrived within an ebullient sphere; where deranged forms Smote upon the skyline in rows of Majesty: a coronation of Giants before which all else stood on bended knees. Once more my thoughts brace against The silent still, As I waited heart-in-hand On the remotest edge of the lengthy River Bank. My eyes, near extinguished, cast toward the restless toil; Filtered side by side, where moving hedges scurry Until my sight broken and frayed. Once more do I behold the Great Tower docked, like a curtain drap

IV by Raedan-Fyr, literature

Literature

IV

The Electric Light dwindles day-by-day,   Soured under the Anglian air that blows,   Clinging to the emptiness you convey Like plastic serpents to a Rose.    Cold hands touch concrete pavements,   Thy cheek has grown more pale and thin,   With canonised words and sombre arrangements,  Stripped of gold to make a hollowed tin.     The Giant Hymir died a drunk, The great Socrates died a fool,   Below the seabed ancient cities have sunk,   Whatever did become of Gaul?    Though my conscience is a r

III by Raedan-Fyr, literature

Literature

III

O! Morning, must thou shine with fresh anew- When thou know it is like any other? Should all life bow to thy own selfish view? Light be a tyrant- for light I suffer. Should my hand reach those loftiest heights Be it with a wet sponge or dampened cloth, I would scrub away with vigorous might; Dispense the Sun and so too each day’s Troth. Perhaps I would sketch a heptag’nal square, Jerusalem I think best ought to hide, Alchemy would be a new form of prayer And all of Sparta will live by my side. Selfish Sun, Will thou shine over all that’s grim? Away bright Star! ‘Ere my dawn to begin.

II by Raedan-Fyr, literature

Literature

II

Two bricks could join to form a wall, Two drops could spring a waterfall So you and I could make a life A loving husband - A doting wife Like any Church will need a Choir, Or winter days spent by the fire, We could stumble on an ancient Tree I’ll sit by you - and you by me. A child may toss away her doll For time will ever take its toll, But mine a spell no Witch can cast You are the first - You are the last.

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Affordable Housing by squibblyquill, journal

Affordable Housing

Jun 26, 2017

https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/how-much-you-need-for-rent_us_5942cc92e4b0f15cd5b9e2ee?ncid=engmodushpmg00000003 So depressing. Especially when I am so in that category of people effected. Housing should not be like this. Housing like basic food and medical care is not supposed to be profiteered for the wallets of the unscrupulous. And for the record, luxury housing is so tacky, cheap, and soulless. Death of culture. This sort of problem endangers the fabric of a society based on anything other than mindless greed. And it will not fix itself.

VIII by Raedan-Fyr, literature

Literature

VIII

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About Raedan-Fyr

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Jan 1
United Kingdom
Deviant for 7 years
He / Him

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My Bio

I will not even attempt to clarify the person behind the screen. Neither do I wish to seek refuge within the circuits of anonymity - which, according to most alternative mediums would be an impossible thing to do.

I have no prescribed affiliations and would desert my own isolation if I could. So why do I write?

Often I have struggled with myself, against myself, in a manner unbeknown to myself (....?). This Trilateral entanglement is perhaps the only concrete I can use to verify my existence; beyond that I can make little sense of the World around me, presently or historically. This has left me with a growing concern that upon my death that same piece of concrete will read:

“Here lies such and such
Struggled with himself mostly
No Affiliations.”

This vestibule must be avoided at all costs!

Profile Comments 3

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Sagittarianism

May 5, 2017

You are obviously intelligent. The way you write reminds me of my own logomaniacal and verbose language. I often find myself lost in my words, hiding behind a veritable screen of obscure and antiquated vocabulary. You, sir, are another of us who are going to conquer the world with verse. I bow to you.

Raedan-Fyr

May 5, 2017

I do believe this is a problem we share.

I've been told mine is nocturnal. Apparently, late nights narrow the mind and limits the perspective of the outside world. It then so happens that come 2.00am, your mind is spaced out and you have been losing yourself in a text for seven hours straight. By the time you wake the next day you find the honest 9-5 working man will have no idea what the hell you're talking about.

However the way you put sounds much nicer - may take a quote from that at some point!

Sagittarianism

May 5, 2017

I see no problem in the way we write, but I consider we may be too intelligent for this world.
The rest of the human populace is the problem as they are not privy to the often-esoteric qualities of language and language culture.

We, the few... the elite, we may be crepuscular in terms of our writing activity, sometimes even cathemeral (as am I), but the knowledge we gain with writing and research and through the general creative process is a great boon to those of us who seek knowledge and know-how over ignorance and bigotry based on ignorance.

Feel free to take whatever tidbits I manage to churn that inspire you; I, too, am inspired by the comments and criticisms and backstories I find on this site among others and have begun composing a list or document containing the inspiring language written mundanely that many may overlook. It is of great assistance during times in which I run dry of the correct or more impactful words needed to stir the embers of my muses. In those times, I suspect a mental/psychological intrusion from Mnemosyne herself and certainly appeal to Clio or Calliope for aid. I only wish Mnemosyne was more proactive when it comes to an embarrassing event I intermittently cringe over even after a period of fifteen years between the event and the present.