claudius-the-idiot-blog

[claudius-the-idiot-blog]

The Weight

Why must we make lies?

Deceptions we hate

Non-truths we despise

Yet lies are our fate

Wether it be be fear

Ferocious malice

Or repute so dear

A lie is justice

Manipulate truth

Paint the world you want

Til you're long in tooth

Live the lies you flaunt

A secret weighs on

An honest soul long

And though brings joy strong

Cannot be held long

[claudius-the-idiot-blog]

Narcissus

Narccisus' vanity showed his great fear.

Forgive him sanity, his thoughts were clear.

Reflection's majesty was far too dear.

Without that fantasy life had no cheer.

So he died, quietly, and shed no tears.

Beautiful Daffodil I love so dear.

[claudius-the-idiot-blog]

V. Foolishness

To be devoid of loss all man cannot

No matter where you go you will find pain

Because alone the world seems joined: insane

Knowing not that their bonds are prone to rot

"Suffer to keep a fleeting joy held taut"

They see your grand idea as sad, inane

The fools believe their joy prevents the rain

With misfortune they'll find their hope for naught

Yet they will stay the course of their fool's way

Knowing not the loss to which they are prone

Still seeing their lives as just a sunny day

And despite your conviction you will moan

In them you'll see the error of your way

Not only death, but love you'll find alone

[claudius-the-idiot-blog]

IV. Burned

Calls out to them, your friends, for you disowned

And they'll be left with nothing but malice

Facing the world mad from their new callus

For their loss in you has left them bemoaned

So a distrust in their being is sown

Watered by hate from the lonely chalice

Drunk deep in sight of your solo palace

Where they see a you they have bever known

And yet they will one day come back to you

A knife from thee? Quite an unlikely thought

More likely you have just not thought it through

And so by them a battle will be fought

Your palace walls will be scaled by friends true.

To be denied of all loss, man cannot

[claudius-the-idiot-blog]

III. Abandoned

Never to feel the pain of loss you sought

Yet the pain of loss, among them you've sown

With Irony your friends have loss, been shown

To seal yourself from a great pain you thought

But so great a pain, all your friends have caught

Far away, to isolation, you've flown

Hurting everyone you have ever known

Making your "bold" choice to save all for naught

Your point was to dodge abandonment but

To run is to abandon those friends honed

Cursing them all for a sad little hut

Although from pain of leave you're spared, your cut

Calls out to them, your friends, that you disowned

[claudius-the-idiot-blog]

II. Solitude

The choice to keep your world a realm your own

Is to keep out danger of strife by loss

By leaving them out in favor of moss

To live your life with a singular tone

Abandon harmony for mind alone

A single voice and disonance the cost

The competing voices at once are tossed

And a caccoon of warmth, placid, you've sown

But never being hurt is worse than pain

For no reason will you have ever fought

the warmth you wove alone is all in vain

The high that those with sympathy have bought

Makes it, your choice of solitude, inane

Never to feel the pain of loss you sought.

[claudius-the-idiot-blog]

I. Alone?

To live alone is a curse of ice, self bought

You freeze your heart to save from worldly pain

You fear that friends will lead to years of strain

Why take them in, and in their lives be caught?

Why waste your life on those expecting aught?

To feel for them you cannot even feign

For then the loss of them would be your bane

My heart; betrayed, a wound, a war long fought

All loss is nature's law, people expire

So do not shun the fresh ally who's Shone

Their light into your world, your cold, dark mire

For they as well, though strong, are still alone

You will regret your choice to fear the fire

The choice to keep your world a realm your own.

[claudius-the-idiot-blog]

The Temptation of Ice

From my cold world I see the light Bright and warm but frightfully strong A blaze which would set me alight Burning fast in explosive throng

The inferno would be my end Burning my iced realm for pleasure Leaving no balance to defend Relief for me in great measure

But I stay in this icy realm For I, the fire would overwhelm So I watch the beautiful flame Never risking our worlds to maim

[claudius-the-idiot-blog]

Characters

An attempt to describe character through their actions and behaviour.

1. “So what do you think?” asked the sinewy thing before me. An innocent enough question, but I could see there was a defensive fury waiting just below the surface in case I said something too critical. I caught a glimpse of it earlier when I said that one of the characters in its fantasy harem sounded “cute” to which it recoiled as if I had just struck it. He did not want anyone taking away the paradise it had carved itself in its fiction. It was also clutching its knees in anticipation of my answer, its claws digging into its tight skin, but not out of nerves, more so to quell its ecstasy at the prospect of the coming praise. It was leaned in now, almost as if it were straining to better hear my thoughts, if it didn’t get an answer soon he may just cut off my head and dig out my opinion itself.

    “Well” I said, carefully considering my words as too much praise could have just as cataclysmic an effect as not enough.” I think the protagonist is pretty interesting. I like that he has sex with both elves and humans, very progressive. The only thing I don’t like is that none of the characters in the hero’s harem acknowledge the others’ existence, surely they’d get along right?” My captor leaned back and cocked its head, chewing the inside of its lip as it considered my point. He showed no immediate rage or ecstacy, my tepid critique was successful and I’d live through at least one more story.

    “So that’s a good idea I’d never thought of that before, so they can all talk about how great gammon is and how much they love him. So I think I’ll start on that now. So that's the best feedback I’ve ever gotten, so everybody else is bad and they lie and I have to find the truth myself.” It grabbed a pen and hunched over its paper, starting to write. Its countenance taking on the glazed look of a work stupor most writers spend their lives trying to find. It’d write for hours now, which gives me the opportunity to escape its lair. I got up to leave.

    “So where are you going?” It muttered without looking up from its work. “So don’t you want to know what I write?” It was frighteningly relaxed when he said this. I could still sense its anger, but it was no longer lying in wait. It was sitting right there in its hands, ready to be harnessed the second I confirmed my betrayal. It had the cold confidence of a creature within killing distance of its prey. I knew if I tried to leave it would “find my truth itself” so I sat back down realizing I’d either leave this room a murderer or not at all.

    “Nowhere, I don’t think I’m going anywhere at all.”

2. The man’s whole body tightened up. Asking about his wife had made him defensive. He now sat with a firm posture pointing his chest directly towards me, crossing his arms. His full muscular body was now revealed. No more of that relaxed hunch he was showing before. All the little things stopped too, no more tapping out “Battle Hymn of the Republic” on the table with his fingers, no more fidgeting with the buttons of his coat, no more stroking his beard to act like he was deeply considering whatever I asked, and no more little chuckles when I made a bad joke. The man had completely packed away the character he usually wears for social interactions. The man that sat before me was stoic, but ready to attack. I suddenly felt what it was like to defuse a bomb, one wrong decision and the brain wouldn’t even have time to process what was happening to the body. One slip of the tongue here and  those folded arms would unfurl and those massive hands would be on my neck in a single, swift, perfect movement. I’d be gasping for air as his thumbs closed over my windpipe in the very same second that I even hinted he could have something to do with his wife’s death.

    “We’re gonna find out what really happened to her sir, I promise, and let me start by saying we know you loved her very much.” I said, making eye contact to let him peer into my heart and see that I meant it.

    “Yes I did.” After he said this there was what felt like a long pause. He unwound slowly, considering how much he missed his wife, each memory further relaxing his body. His hunch returning when he thought of her soft smile after a long day’s work. Tapping up a march again as he remembered those days listening to her practice on the piano, her heavenly voice echoing through the living room. Even giving a soft chuckle as he thought of all the times he’d incurred her full wrath after buying a new car or making some other mid-life crisis decision without telling her first. This is the true pattern of grief. A full and complete rage followed by a long spiraling path leading to a deep, somber loneliness in the pit of your feelings which you can only escape with a rapid ascension back to a frustrated rage. He was on this nostalgic trip downward now, getting a lonely satisfaction from all of his cherished memories, and I’d have to get my questions in quickly during his descent. “I’ll tell ya everything I can officer, I just want to see her done justice.”

[claudius-the-idiot-blog]

Why I'm Here

To bring a life into this world of pain

To me is not but greed and fatih in vain

So why do I sit here with pen and pad

I doubt the ones who brought me here were mad

But add to the sinful chaos and war?

Why try to mold new man? A chance for more

Chaos and pain are why we bet on life

The new and fresh must be, to fight the strife

But now I know my cause for life. rejoice!

I am to fight the pain and strife by choice

To bring a change for good my mother sought

Soft and quiet I hope that change she got

Though without her I have become forlorn

I thank my mom for faith in me unborn

[claudius-the-idiot-blog]

New Frontiers

Started to write this recently. I think it’ll be a buddy-cop type story about being a kind of social worker for aliens who immigrate to Earth for one reason or another. Not really sure where it’s gonna go but it was fun to write about something new and far less serious.

    “Varn, you see that one over there?” Clint said, just loud enough that only I could hear.

           “Who? the guy in the coat” I asked, quite a bit louder than Clint. I was not in the mood tonight, and thought I could shame Clint out of his theory by bringing our conversation up to earshot of the other patrons.

           “Not so loud! It’ll hear us” he fired back still hushed, but more serious. It was too late now, Clint’s imagination had gotten the better of him.

           “Yeah that creature in the coat.” He continued, calm again, with a sly confidence in his narrative. “It’s had exactly one beer every fifteen minutes since we got here, and he hasn’t taken his eyes off the tv this entire time. His posture hasn’t changed this entire time, and we’ve been here for three hours; that’s not to mention he must got a fucking iron bladder. All that drinking and he hasn’t gotten up once. No way he’s human. Probably first generation bot, the tells are too easy. He’s only acting human.” It was about that time. We’d both had plenty to drink and Clint had finally stopped adjusting his glasses every few minutes. He had bought himself a pair ever so slightly too large for him so that he needed to push them back up his nose periodically. He won't admit it but I know he bought an over sized pair intentionally because he thought the adjusting would give a bit of dramatic flair when he made a good point. The true effect was less convincing. It really only made him look constantly disheveled as he covered his face to mash his glasses back up the bridge of his nose often times muffling his voice during a key point in his theory. Unfortunately now that he was drunk I would be spared no point as he had long ago stopped caring about his glasses, content to leave them at the edge of his face.

           "And so what?" I said. "Who cares if he's a robot, or a lizard or whatever you're on about tonight? He's not hurting anyone. for all we know he just wants to drink his troubles away like anyone else, I'm sure being a robot's not easy."

           "You know what Varn? You're exactly right, this is exactly why I picked you for this, that grade-A empathy. You're gonna make a great agent."            "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about Clint how about we just get you home?"

           After a bit more pushing and a bit more ranting from Clint, he agreed to let me walk him back to his apartment. I was especially happy to leave as our "robot" friend seemed to have caught on to what Clint was saying and had turned his unwavering focus from the tv to my lanky, drunk, and increasingly loud friend. He eyed us all the way out of the bar, but thankfully didn't follow us out. Calling somebody a robot was pretty tame compared to some of Clint's previous accusations. Last week he got so bold as to walk up to a woman he claimed to be a lizard, and told her she had sexy scales. Her boyfriend, very much a hot-blooded mammal of considerable size, did not take kindly to that and we had to meander home bruised after a thorough ass-kicking.

           I have no idea what agency Clint thinks he works for. He insists that it's a secret and that he can't tell anyone even though he tells me every other weekend or so. He also claims to be training me as his replacement "just in case " since "you never know; between the devils, the lizards, the droids, and the Vegs anything can happen." Unfortunately he never remembers saying any of this the next day. I was concerned at first but, aside from some drunken misunderstandings, these wild ideas stayed on the inside in his daily life. Plus his stories are fun to hear, he has a vivid imagination. Some people get loud or violent when they drink, Clint just gets creative. At least that’s what I thought until the next day when the robot man from the night before showed up outside my door.

    “I need help” he said in a vaguely metallic voice. “I cannot figure out these forms. Your friend gave me this business card when you left but his office was closed.” the android held out a card that I read several times before I could process the information.

    “Clint Veers, Earth immigration and integration” I read aloud bewildered

     “Yes him” the android continued flatly. “He was right. I’m a first generation and I need help adjusting to human life. Can you help me find him? I do not know where else to go.”

       What I wanted to do was slam my door closed, tell the man that he was insane, and go on with my day, but I didn’t. It all clicked after reading the card. Clint has never lied to me in my life, so why would that change when he’s drunk? And of course it would land on me to fix his mess after a long night of drinking, that’s the pillar of our friendship. so instead of “get the hell away from me or I’m calling the cops” I told the expressionless android in need.

    “Yeah we’ll find him, I’ll get my coat. One sec.”

[claudius-the-idiot-blog]

My Room

Today prose! I’ve been taking a writing class and one of our prompts was to write from the perspective of a place.

I miss Jessica. Neat, tidy, and good company to keep me interested. No nails in my sides for gaudy posters either. I remember so many pleasant evenings where Jessica would have a guest or two over and they would lounge on her bed and discuss school, future careers, and maybe even a little gossip. It was a pleasure to be her room, to be a sanctuary for such a kind and considerate girl was a fulfilling experience both metaphorically and literally, but unfortunately, like so many before her, I was only a temporary abode and with her college years behind her it was time for Jessica to move on to greater things. I’ve become used to my short-lived relationships with the tenants, I’m happy to see these young people move onto the next chapter of their lives, but this time is different. The new tenant is a miserable pile of a person. He’s a complete mess, hasn’t cleaned his room since unpacking, and generally treats me as a dump for all of his worldly junk. That’s not to mention all of the trash on the floor and the posters stapled into my sides. Even the closet, the smallest, easiest to organize space I have is just piled to the ceiling with junk that will never see the light of day haphazardly tossed inside and forgotten about. There’s even a street cone inside my closet, coated in the dirt of the outside world, and it’s just going to sit there and fester. I already hold cleanliness in the highest regard, but the closet is sacred. It’s the only place I have to myself even with an occupant, but now it disgusts me to even think about. However this isn’t the greatest reason for my loathing, what I truly despise this man for is how unbelievably boring he is. Nothing happens in this room anymore. Every other day or so the new tenant stumbles in and collapses on the uncovered mattress on the floor and sleeps. He never has a guest, leaves first thing in the morning, and even when he has work to do on his laptop he just sits there typing away in silence. Without another person around humans don’t speak, and if they don’t speak I never get to learn anything. I don’t even know this man’s name, I only know that he doesn’t care for me. I have never experienced a hate this deep for an occupant before. My frustration with his silence is only rivaled by frustration with my own. All I want to do is tell him he should clean up, or to have some friends over, or even just to talk to himself every now and then. Even if he snaps back at me for asking and denies my requests, it would be better to hate him for a conflict rather than to hate him for this intense feeling of loneliness. Unfortunately we’ll never communicate and I just have to sit here and take it until he moves on like all the others. Maybe the next tenant will have friends. I just want to be rewarded for what I do. I am the nexus of these kids entire lives while they’re here, they should utilize me and take pride in the reflection of their personalities and lifestyles that I provide. I am everything that these kids are and it pains me not to be respected as such. If you can’t love your room how can you love yourself?

[claudius-the-idiot-blog]

Friends

Today I wrote a sonnet, my first stab at real structure. According to a bit of googling this is a Petrarchan Sonnet, with a little owed to Milton since it’s not part of a sequence. I wrote this for my best friends.

A helpless bitch plus gross and sad a dude “My life is so hard nobody knows me” “My life is so hard nobody loves me” An endless stream of sorrow they exude

So why do I support the two so rude? My time, my gas, my cash, are lost for thee All day there is no end to my worry They both are blighted by unstable mood

My reward is their undying friendship and not only seasons fair without cold But for when my demons emerge above The bitch, my sister, Gives replaced kinship The dude, my brother, My new life he’s owed I owe them both My mind, my soul, my love

[claudius-the-idiot-blog]

Ohio

Ohio and of what? A chance to slut? Enough to leave your mutt? With no time for but?

Time to run away? I wish it were May I’d beg you please stay Did I push you away?

Then I could ask you Why move to no view? What’s not holding you? Are you not stuck too?

But do I project? Are we not a sect? That I must respect This is not defect

Ohio is next But I am perplexed And just a bit vexed By your choice in next

Enjoy your strange peace Don’t die by some beast I’ll try to keep ease But Ohio? Fuck!

[claudius-the-idiot-blog]

For Her, About Me

wrote this to unpack some complicated emotions. It's heartfelt, but I know how lame it is too. Pretty writing I think though.

Of love I know not when to act or hide

So then I keep my heart inside

For not, I doubt, my chest does swell with pain

But hidden must the thought remain

To win my muse would be bliss unbound

To lose my muse would be a pain tenfold

She flaunts her grace of mind and treats me kind

But knows not what my heart does find

She pines for aught I long to give away

But aught of mine she thinks to stay

“Oh you are fine to me in all says she

But not a spark from me to thee”

Beauty divine and purest soul I see

And none can take the thought from me

And though my heart may never reach your own

It’s fine to see you calm and drone

Your stake in me will stay though I may pry

So here I bleed my damn heart dry

[claudius-the-idiot-blog]

First Post Rundown

I’m gonna use this blog to post my writing. I’m a total amateur and I don’t trust my friends for brutal criticism. So please internet tear into me like I know you can. I believe mostly poetry is gonna end up here with some writing excerpts.