Three AM


Today is the first day of autumn but its still quite warm here even at this time

For the last couple of weeks, the peaceful morning horizon has been disrupted with sounds of house-building and motorbike revving, coming from the Lane behind… now, I don’t know if they’re being made by the same person, but one of his neighbours told him to “Knock it off, with all that revving” and I couldn’t help laughing v loudly at it all, as our early mornings have been consistently disrupted by house-building on the Lane, over the last few years.

Welcome to the Ends, stranger. :slight_smile:

Not here, it’s not! :slight_smile:

“For the last couple of weeks, the peaceful morning horizon has been disrupted by house-building on the Lane, over the last few years.”

Did I read that correctly? :slight_smile:

Yes… there was a house being built prior to this one… which is now an is, as it’s been completed for a long while now… and now this one. The building work is quite quiet, but it’s the powerful machine between his legs that has been disrupting the secluded sound landscape of the Ends.

How do I know it’s a he, I hear you ask? :slight_smile:

Ahhh! well… because of the cc of the bike, which sounds more 750 than 250 or even 500, I replied.

Can I have some quiet please? Thank you. Would someone please be kind enough to remind me of the purpose of this thread?
“Justice in Action.”
Exactly! Where are you going?
I’m going to water the plant - it’s wilting.
We’ll watch and wait.
And see it done.
Let the Lawyers have their fun.
We’ll watch and wait and watch and wait

First hearing. No need for me to attend. Prior to the hearing, he pleaded guilty to assault. However, he expressed his intention to plead Not Guilty to assaulting my daughter. When the case began he changed his mind, and pleaded guilty. Sentencing has been postponed on a couple of occasions. The assailant couldn’t make the original hearing, and the Courts couldn’t make the second. Apparently, it will be some time in September.

Thinking about it! It could have been so much worse! He attacked the entire office staff of PCH&N when he struck me. It is fair to say, the Internal affairs department was thrown into total disarray. Files and documents were scattered in all directions. It could take several weeks to put everything back in it’s correct place. Nuisance. A proper nuisance.

Will you look at that plant, now.

Brain, wanting to be up-n-active since an hour ago… courgette-omelette n coffee being currently consumed, before completing the final hurdle that stands between a job and I… it being the full completion of a job application, by noon.

Birds singing, but the crows are silent so far today, to be eclipsed by the house-builder arriving on his suped-up super bike… I’m sure he’s saving on fuel, and therefore money, by not mindlessly revving the engine, for all to hear how super-expensive his super bike must be. He used to build ships, you know.

Apologia: a trilogy

Part 1

All quiet on most fronts, lights out.
Good night.
A little early, that’s all.
A toast for those still

awake.

To read this post , midnight confession.

Psst:

And says

Never like to build
Myself
Never
Assume too much
But gotta like
For other’s
Sake
Cause the shadow just passed, few ticking passed,
Mid night

Passing shadow

Looks
And back,

Me
Believe, ships are buoyant
To reason float on slowly
Quietly flows
the Don.

never stops quietly for many a year
between you and you and you
and I, quietly unpreturbadly, unforgettingly flows unwittingly

Flows day and many a night,

No excuse,
Excuse for her to stop , she remembers after
She is gone, no kidding , she remembers but you forgot,
Every hiss convulsing
Silent foam, snaking it’s way toward the open, see

Sea?

Now drink that tear as slow curling down the mable freeze that is her faced elegy, and know

Recovered your lapse,
In an eternal travail,
Of pictures taken
now together placed to elicit
Her movement and her breath ,
Slowly as she recreates the finality
of the immeasurable sense of her
Tribute , frozen

evermore in to now.
Who is she?

A woman coming to shore from a vessel
Carried you in, now crashed, and seeks finding you on island of
Dr. Moreau.

She will find you despite the change,
In your countenance,

Despite the growl
And the hiss,
The fervor
and the
Multitudes watching you groan
and try to leap
When a young
cub

Now sign say don’t look long into
eye,
Of a tiger.

And way past 3

player.vimeo.com/video/188436359

Morning becomes Electra

Part 2

Actually, it is all Artemis’s fault.

:

: Artemis—offended that Agamemnon had killed an animal sacred to her—stilled the winds, making it impossible for Agamemnon and his armies to sail to Greece. The only way Agamemnon could gain favorable winds, Artemis decreed, was for him to sacrifice his young daughter, Iphigenia. Agamemnon did so and even gagged his daughter so that, with her last breath, she could not curse him for this deed. Her death enraged Agamemnon’s wife, Queen Clytemnestra.
…After Artemis quickened the winds and Agamemnon sailed off to Troy, Clytemnestra never forgot what Agamemnon did. While he was fighting the Trojans, she took a lover, Aegisthus. Together, Clytemnestra and Aegisthus plotted Agamemnon’s murder while he was fighting at Troy. When the Greeks at long last defeated the Trojans and Agamemnon returned home as a conquering hero, Clytemnestra murdered Agamemnon. Electra, grieving over her father’s death, thirsted for revenge against her mother. Meanwhile, to save her young brother—Agamemnon’s heir—from the wrath of Clytemnestra and Aegisthus, she sent him away. Years later, he returned to Mycenae with one thought on his mind: to avenge his father’s death.

That’s it in a nutshell, no intent to ad homini present ILP member-Artemis

Part 3

And now it’s waaaaaay past any reasonable hope for some shut eye, and trying to rid the harbinger of the washer of souls, to Artemis and his devoted Satyr, this, to show some semblance of impartiality and objectivity to feign of any form of pretence or solipsistic self indulgence:

Satyrs are creatures that work for Camp Half-Blood and go out into the world to search for demigods. While searching, they wear disguise, such as fake feet or hats that hide their horns. It is possible that the Mist cannot hide all of a satyr’s features however. Many went to search for Pan, the ancient god of the Wild, until he faded. Most of those satyrs were lured to Polyphemus’ Island because of the overpowering scent of the Golden Fleece during their search for Pan and then eaten. Other satyrs were attracted to other monsters for reasons unexplained.

Satyrs also worship the god Dionysus. They also seem to appreciate the goddess Artemis as she is greatly associated with nature.

We had a very nice meal. A few drinks. Too many drinks.
Ended up at PCH&N. The recent appointee is still in her office.
We should have left at that moment. Turned around. Walked out the door.
That would have been the wise thing to do.
We chose to laugh (giggle) in a childlike fashion and crack open a nice bottle of claret.
A couple of smokes and soon we were seeing things with perfect clarety. Only possible at three am.
Before long.
Can you come out here for a moment, Love?
She’s there in a flash,
Tell him, what you told me.
My Nature?
What you told me.
With, or without the flowery language?
Laughter and a smile.
Leave it all in – he’ll love all that.
I’ll try. Let me see:

“I have heard thy voice of glad surprise, of new-found happiness in the knowledge of my existence. Thou, the child of man, hast awoken to the revelation of the Heaven-born.
Thou hast tasted my delights, and wouldst fain make me thine irrevocably and for ever. Wise art thou; for in my hands are rarest gifts and treasures.
I can, if I will, crown the true lover with priceless jewels; I can reveal joys undreamed of. No matter if thy birth be humble; for where I take possession I bring my own patent of nobility. No matter if they’ll be not among the wise of the earth; I have keys to unlock the most secret stores of wisdom. I have all comma and it is all for such as can build me a shrine where I may abide.
But what dost thou know of me – of me the Heaven-born? Thou art but on the threshold, much is yet to learn. My Kingdom lies stretched out before thee, and thou wouldst forthwith take possession. Nay, already thou art in error—‘tis I must take possession of thee.
What! Shall I – the Limitless – narrow my nature till thou canst contain it? Shall I, who am of Heaven, permit that thou drag me down to earth? Shall I, the Mystery of Mysteries, be fathomed by thy scanty plumb-line?
Nay! If indeed I be desired, I, the Infinite, must absorb the finite. I must by slow degrees enlarge the narrowness of ignorance and deepen the shallowness of self-satisfaction, that I may expand uncircumscribed. I must lift up the earth-born nature to mine, which is of Heaven; I must unfold my mysteries one by one as thou art able to understand.
And thou must yield all to me. Thy dull ear must be trained to catch my low tones, for my voice is raised in clamour for none – it will be heard even as the whisper of thine own soul. Thine eye must be swift to mark my lightest gesture, for I guide by touches so subtle that in comparison the flutter of the butterfly’s wing is rough.
My nature is changeless. ‘Tis for thee to choose whether I abide or depart. If thou strive against me, I am gone, and in place of the beauteous form and glowing colouring thou thoughtest to clasp, in thy hand will be left but a heap of dust.
Yet know that here is the great, the glorious opportunity, for if thou comprehend me, I will dower thee with Eternal Bliss.”

Is that it? Finished?
Yes.
Now, whilst you were – not prattling – that’s the wrong word, whilst you were talking earlier you said you were running short of the basics.
The Essentials?
Love’s essentials, that’s the one. Listen to this. Go on, Love.
You are extremely demanding.
Ooooh! Get you… Please.

“The choice is made, and thou wilt in very deed that I abide with thee; forthwith shall a shrine be built for my sojourn, the fellow-worker is assured, and together ye would lay the foundations and raise a home for me.
Show me then the plan ye have formed and the materials ye bring to execute it, that each block may be set in its fitting place.
What is the ground-work? For unless this be well and truly laid, how shall the dwelling resist the buffets of adverse fortune? – A passionate devotion to the life of another is to be the basis of all? – So far, well; none other will stand. But see to it that thy marble be perfect, neither flawed with desire for self-advancement or self-interest, nor veined with dark and dubious shades which mar its perfection of purity.
Rest content with nothing that lacks completeness. Sincerity alone can lay a sure foundation. Let thy tools be well-tempered; thy cement in due proportions. Heed not those who scoff at thy providence; they do but seek to beguile thee from thy lofty purpose. With faulty tools no lasting monuments are reared. Reck not of their scorn; these are Love’s murderers; for a pure environment is Love’s very life.
But more. To the task must be brought loving service and infinite patience – meet cornerstones of the fane. To these add large-hearted discernment, that thy materials may serve to carry out thy first design. Unwise are they who squander on the earlier stages all that should have been husbanded till the last coping-stone was duly set.
A fine balance is essential in thy dispositions, that the co-operation of they help-meet may not be at one time over-taxed, at another discouraged by thy wavering enthusiasm. Above all, for the perfecting of the fabric, ye must both bring fearlessness, the keystone of the whole – the crown of your endeavour.
So shall the Temple of Love rise fair and stately, secure on stable foundations against the tempests of misfortune – a retreat no whit less needful, in the fevered noonday of prosperity!”

Finished?
Yes.
Thank you, Love.
She returns to her office.
Whad’ya think?
What do you mean?
What she said.
Mate, I didn’t understand half of what she said.
Nor did I. But it sounded good, din nit.
Mate, keep it under your hat. You get twice what she gets.
Don’t be silly.

3 am here. Good one. Architecture of love Quite erotic, masterfully disguised.
Masterbuilder.

Do crows… when present, always open up the stage with their crowing, for all the other birds to then commence… with their songbird songs and shrill whistles? crows… the conductors of the bird-world, if you will.

I have been asked on a date, but he is not my type… how did this happen? How to unhappen it? :laughing:

The house-building in the Lane behind has recommenced from yesterday. It is being made from wood, not bricks and mortar… it’s gonna need some mad suped-up insulation to keep that place warm in Winters.

:slight_smile:

Meno, it was inspired by something Meher Baba said! :slight_smile:

In that magic underworld that defines the ultra micro of associations, different masks abound without mean ing.
To come up for air, suddenly, will become very appearent , the deep pressures not adjusted properly, and the stage set, melt the stages into unused masks.

Here, coincidences appear as set, or totally synchratic. Mind wavers between sensing the source as totally anachronistic and synchronicitious, and completely self contained.

…but sometimes, I’d rather not. :neutral_face:

Yeah… about that! =;

Can you resuscitate it please, and bring it back to life… I feel kinda naked without mine. :angelic-halofell:

Textured metallic-bronze platform hi-tops, with zip… who knew… purchased.

More boots, in varying styles and heights, to follow… well, it is Autumn.

A new dress or two? I’d say so.

Should go out more, just to dress up more… I think so.

The cat and I have breakfasted already… a very early one today.

Awaiting the sounds of birds and the stranger on the bike’s arrival… it’s eerily quiet for this time of the morning… the only person up is I. :neutral_face:

The birds have started, are stirring, signalled by their chirping… I really do need to get out more. :laughing:

MagsJ, can you have a word with the moderators? This is the Creative Writing forum.

Awaiting the sounds of the birds, and the arrival of the stranger on the bike?

Vroom, Vroom. The bike’s arrived.

If you listen carefully, there are a number of tweets in amongst the vrooms.

Not everyone can hear it! :slight_smile:

Lol

But that’s all I had… that morning, at that time. Reflective of me, perhaps.

My writings are always steeped in my reality, but embellished poetically-wise… or not, in this case… I was obviously not feeling poetic that day. :frowning:

…and sure thing… I’ll get MagsJ on MagsJ’s case. :wink: