The Battle of Paper & Clip

It was proactive and action-oriented vice
Curved around its self twice or slyly slight thrice
For Clip was firm and held things in place
And Paper seldom exceeded plead, just-in-case

From a box of many it came
Here to keep these Papers tame
Assistant to red-tape, it had many uses
Manipulated, it could be bent and twirled as abuses

And the Paper would line, waiting for ink
Sometimes teetering right next to the brink
Deskination, brings about jag and rip
And so this is the battle of Paper & Clip

SPLACES

It's places filled with spaces

And spaces between places

People away from people

And people away from themselves

As people in present places, outside

Other blocks of stacked spaces

Hide inside spaces of themselves too

As she hides herself, he hides himself too

Although, just as most too
In far SPLACES

People and places
Are merged

With inner and outer spaces
Come to better places
(far away)

Run Real Fast

Wow! Another great day
achievement
appointment
disappointment
I feel somewhat mighty
Like I can conquer the day
Except for what you say
And can run really fast.....
Right off a building
On the way way down I think
You Think?
I fall really fast
Right through error
This wasn't for me
Fatherfuckpumpkinpiecocksuckingtruck
Smashing really hard...fuc.

Potential Energy

Potential Energy
By: James Dubeau

Goals
Are an interesting
And fickle beast
A firm wall
To bust through
Or bash your head upon
They give you
A progress bar
To judge yourself upon
How am I doing
Will I ever finish
Do I have what it takes
The funny
Little thing
Called
Potential
Does it live
In my heart
My mind
My soul
Or even in my
Little toe
Sitting there
At the cliff’s edge
Ready to plummet
Come alive
With energy
Bashing through
Obstacles
Rushing past
Goals
And those
Oh so elusive
Resolutions
Made every
New Year
The trick
Of it all
Is to keep
Momentum
While surging ahead
And that is what
I plan on doing
This year

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Death Of Me

Death Of Me
By: James Dubeau

The warning signs where there
From the very first day
When I drove that car
Down the snowy thoroughfares
When she bucked
And she slid
With no traction at all
Did I finally realize
I had not anti-lock breaks
Fortunately though
As the snow bank drew near
The tires did grip
Saving me
From certain destruction
However that was
But only the beginning
Of the trials and tribulations
That car has been through
For it has run into a brick wall
Backed into a mailbox
Shot with a BB gun
And covered with eggs
On a cold winter night
About a year ago
It was even rear ended
Cracking up the bumper
One of the worst
Was a few months ago
When I was merging onto the highway
In the dark or night
Traffic barrels guided me
As I merged from the left
Semi truck headlights blinded me
Threatening to run me over
Merging cautiously
But a bit to slow
The mirror caught a barrel
Popping it from the frame
Tonight however
I am glad
That I never replaced the mirror
For when I returned
To my loving car
From an evening with friends
The entire mirror assembly
Was no where to be seen
Once again my poor car
Had been hit
And scarred
Against this world
So remember this friends
When I die in the car
That you read it here first
My car which I adore
Will be
The death of me

Time

Time
By: James Dubeau

Sand slips through my fingers
As each day hurtle past
My grasp tightens
Trying
Desperately
To hold on
But it is to no avail
Grains slip through
Cracks and crevices
Behind me
An old man laughs
At my foolishness
He tips an hourglass
Sending the sand
Racing through my fingers
No
I scream
These are good times
Let them last
With my youth
His only response
Is continued laughter
And tipping the hourglass
Even further
Hastening my sand
Sun and moon
Flash by overhead
Submersing me in darkness and light
Days
Weeks
Months
Years
Fly on past
Time and time again
I scream in pain
My soul wracked
In deep torment
The old man laughs
Red glows behind beady eyes
Returning the hourglass
To how it once was
Sand no longer flows
While a sliver of moon
Grinds to a halt
High above me
No longer the anguish of
A happy life
Speeding by
Ravages me
For now a darker place
Grips my soul
Turning it most foul
Make it grow fast again
I whimper
The good times are gone
Wasted so fast
Only death and torment
Surround me now
It is much too painful
So I beg of you
Make time fly
Once more
Bring me to good times
Then slow it down
Let me enjoy happiness
Not suffer prolonged anguish
Once more he laughed
Shaking his finger at me
While caressing the hourglass
You shall submit to my will
For I control that
Which you hold most dear
This daemon was right
Soon madness will grasp me
Twisting and contorting my soul
I fell to my knees
And wept

Universal Thais

After two years in China where Blogger is blocked by the government via The Great Chinese Firewall, this is my first post since 2008. In Thailand, not near as much is blocked, unless it is critical of The King. The assignment was to write a short paragraph comprising of at least five sentences about the happiest day of your life. The following was written by a fifteen-year-old in an Elementary English class of mine. His name is Bank and he was born and raised in Bangkok, Thailand.

The picture above is of the Soi, or alleyway, where my building is located near the Wong Wian Yai area in Bangkok.

"I don't have any happiest day in my life because in my own life I only have bad days, so so and good days. When I meet the bad day I will smile and laugh because it's just the waves like the sea in my life. I think that the people's life is like the sea - some days it'll be cloudy but sometimes it'll be sunny. I can't avoid them that's why I have to smile for my sake and for my family so that they don't have to look so down when they see me in a bad mood. But when I meet the good day I'll remember it because humans don't meet their good days every day. I just remember it and I don't want to smile because sometime when I meet the happiest day I have to hurt other people. Sometimes I know it but sometimes I don't know how I hurt people's feelings. That's why I don't have the happiest day, I just remember it and walk...my own way of life."

Thoughts?

Hiatus

Hiatus

By: James Dubeau

What a long

Strange trip

It has been

With all the poetry

And short stories

That have flowed

But for now

Unfortunately it must

All be put aside

Harsh realities

That are life

Have caught up with me

Blood has fallen

Upon the sand

Demanding full attention

But whenever

The must strikes me

My words shall return

Until that next time

To all my readers

I must say

Thank you

Ignis Part 7

Ignis Part 7:
By: James Dubeau

Everyone in this town is weak. Their soft bellies would burn to a cinder in a single day under the hot sun. The desert consumes all that enter her, all that do not respect her.

I had spent years alone in the desert. Nothing but the sun, my thoughts, and the spirits to keep me company. All that I needed the desert provided. Civilization has nothing but fragile beings, useless shops, and worthless laws. The only law I follow is the law of the desert, survival of the fittest. Death is the punishment for those that try to beak the law.

Just because I am telling you these things does not mean that I am weak like you boy. The spirits and I see a resemblance of myself in you. There are times where I yearn for the innocence I once had when I was your age.

The last scraps of my innocence were ripped away by a band of desert raiders. They took away my freedom amongst the desert. It took many to over come Maska and me. More than a few of them still lay on that canyon floor. Before I knew it I was brought to the cities and sold into slavery.

The life of a slave is not one I would wish upon my enemies. Those that fall in combat deserve to be killed, not to be paraded like a trophy. The day grows long and the desert heat is receding. Tales of my slave days will have to wait until I return to this weak underbelly of civilization.

Tomorrow? My three partners and I will begin a journey guiding a caravan through the desert. The spirits say the voyage will be the first step in my vengeance. Loose threads are to be uncovered by the shifting sands of time.

Do yourself a favor boy. Stay clear of me when my eyes glow with fire and rage. All which stand between vengeance and me will be torn asunder and immolated by my wrath.

Ignis Part 6

Ignis Part 6:
By: James Dubeau

Don’t insult me with such foolish questions boy. I am here telling you this tale, am I not?

The hellish lizard stood over me. His gravely voice shook me from my dieing dream with a single word, rise. Strength had long deserted my body. I could not heed his command. Again he said rise, this time I was rattled to my very essence. On shear willpower alone was my body able to stand in the desert sun. Beyond my control, my feet were compelled to follow the spirit beast over the dune and the next. Upon cresting the third dune I fell to my knees. At the foot of the sand hill was a small pool of water flanked by fruit bearing bushes. It could not be real. I could not handle being taken in by another mirage.

Finding that my strength had left me I fell back to the soft bed of sand. The beast looked to me and the gleam in his eye told me all that I needed to know. I was expected to follow him. I heaved my body over, rolling down the sand dune.

The sand rolled with me. As if it was carrying me. Not bearing to look upon the mirage I dared not open my eyes. My fingers dipped into the pool. The cool water was a fire upon my cracked and parched skin.

Yes, the lizard sprit I had been following was in fact Maska. As I drank he spoke to me but I was not ready for what he had to say. He told me that he was to be my companion from that point forward, that nature’s spirits had seen what had happened to my family that day and that my strength and conviction was felt. They had peered into the twisting future and divined that I would bring justice to those who preyed upon my family.

Since that day I have learned how to listen to all of the spirits that flow around me, around you, around everything. They have taught me much about the desert and about myself. Maska taught me how to forage for food, how to be patient with the swirling sands, and how to defend myself with his aid. The sprits have spoken and turned me into the desert shaman that I have become. I have become a new being and to signify this transformation I took on my new name of Ignis.

Ignis Part 5

Ignis Part 5:
By: James Dubeau

Do your bones wish to rest atop a sand dune to be bleached? That is the fate of those that make demands. I’ll get back to the tale of my youth soon enough. For now another refreshing drink is in order before my parched lips move again.

Thank you barkeep. Now I am ready to continue. Listen up because I will not repeat myself.

My young self had just escaped from my family’s doomed caravan. With the burning wagons I left behind my family, my life, and all that I have ever known.

Death stalked me that morning. A large man with scythe and black hooded robe may not have been visible but his presence was felt. Swirling sand blinded and misguided as the hot sun beat the very life out of me. Delirium washed over me as thirst and hunger battled for my soul. Pools of water and tall palm trees danced just beyond my reach. My parched tongue desired to have just a sip but there was no water to be found amongst the mirages that simply vanished when I approached. When my weary legs finally faulted the sand was softer than any bed I had ever known. I was doomed to follow my mother and father into the afterlife. It was a fate I welcomed.

My unwavering eyes locked onto the sun, blurring my vision to white while I waited for the giant red beast to devour me. I don’t know how long I lay upon that dune too weak to move. Just as I felt my end draw near a swirling darkness encroached upon my vision. Somehow I choked out a laugh, relived that my time had ended. My laughter was cut short as the darkness took the form of a giant black lizard. The sun glistened off of his black translucent body. Just looking at the beast’s sharp claws and wicked smile I knew that he would tear my spirit from my flesh, devouring my soul for a voyage to damnation.

For the first time that day a true terror struck my heart.

Ignis Part 4

Ignis Part 4:
By: James Dubeau

Don’t waste your breath apologizing about my mother. We live on a harsh desert covered world boy. Softness only begets death. Both of my parents as well as everything I had known died on that sand that morning. Mourning their passing is something that I must put behind myself if I am to continue my survival.

Unfortunately I know not of who attacked my father’s caravan or for what reason. It is not uncommon for caravans to be attacked by desert nomads or bandits. Even though my memories of that morning are nothing but a murky mess I do not believe the attack was random by either nomads or bandits. Our wagons were burned to the sand and no survivors were left. Nomads and bandits only fight for supplies, trade goods, and slaves. Complete destruction of a caravan would not be what they are after.

Our caravan could have been hunted by those that despise my kind. My red skin, horns, and tail are the marks of an infernal being. It is a demonic appearance which has been a curse upon my kind for as long as history remembers. There are those that fear us for the hell spawn that we represent. That we are to be killed before our knives drink enough blood to pay the blood debt our ancestors have put upon us. My hatred of those that look down upon my kind drives me to want to believe that my family was killed by those that abhor and fear my kind. However the attack was too well organized, too well orchestrated for a band of fear mongers.

Those desert raiders could have been mercenaries hired by a rival merchant house. Thinning out the competition can always be a strong motivation. Unfortunately I had not heard of any other merchants being wiped out in the same period of time. One would think that if a merchant house had nefarious schemes to wipe out their competition they would have take care of more than just a single competitor.

My ear has been to the sand ever since that day, listening for clues as to who killed my mother and father. Some day I will find out who was behind the attack and only their spilled blood will pay the debt that is owed. Only the fear that any trace as to who assaulted the caravan has been lost to the shifting sands of time keeps me awake when the sun sets. Vengeance shall be vicious and it shall be mine.

Ignis Part 3

Ignis Part 3:
By: James Dubeau

There is nothing like a cool refreshing drink on a hot afternoon. Now, where was I? Oh yes, desert raiders were attacking my father’s caravan.

Believe it or not but I was frozen in fright. As a young son of a wealthy merchant I did not know my way around a blade. Training for me had always been with the goal of becoming a merchant not to become a warrior. The closest I had ever been to blood spilled from men was at the gladiatorial pits. Never have I had another man’s blood spilled upon me before.

Even though I shall never forget that morning the battle was nothing but a blur. Raiders riding out of the rising sun, crimson soaked sand, death wails of the wounded, and thick black smoke from the burning caravan wagons. My feet were frozen, as if I was half sunk in quicksand. I could not move to run or defend myself. Surely my fate was to be the same as my parents and their caravan.

Don’t be flippant boy, of course I survived. I’m here telling you this story now aren’t I? Do you want to hear the rest of my story? Then shut up and listen.

My father grabbed my hand and dragged me away from the fighting. Somehow my feet began to move, marching me with him. It wasn’t until we were on the other side of a burning wagon that his words broke through the cacophony of battle. He ordered me to run, begged me to run. The corners of his harsh eyes were wet with tears, an emotion I had never seen upon his face before or would ever see again.

All that I could do was nod dumbly and run away from the fighting. There were no last words that I could have said to him. I was too young to truly understand what was happening, that I would never see my father or mother again.

Somehow I escaped the battle. I don’t know how or why my tracks in the sand were never followed. My old man must have had a trick or two up his sleeve to conceal my escape. He gave his life to spare mine, sending me alone into the desert with the thick black smoke of the burning caravan disappearing into the horizon behind me. I had no water, no map, and no idea how to survive on my own.

My mother? No, I did not forget to mention her. I prefer not to speak of her death that day. She was standing next to me that morning. An arrow found her heart when the raiders first swarmed from the sun. Her blood was the first that splashed upon me that morning.

Ignis Part 2

Ignis Part 2:
By: James Dubeau

Are you enjoying the fruit juice boy?

Don’t let those shifting sands out there mislead you. We all have a history, even this forsaken desert world. If you dig deep enough into the past you will find hidden secrets, events that have shaped each of us into who they are today. Even this world has secrets. It was once vibrant, green, and full of life. Hard to imagine with nothing but sand and silt from here to the horizon but it would be easy to envision if you knew what happened over the ages.

I’ll let you in on one of the secrets from my history. Ignis is not my given name. My childhood name was Morthos Crescens. I was not a child of a slave or left to die in the streets like so many. My father was a wealthy merchant and my mother was from a aristocratic blood line which made me a noble of sorts.

No, I was not of a merchant house you have ever heard of. It doesn’t matter, they are merchants no longer. Getting back to my story, it was a blessed childhood. I had fresh fruit and water with every meal, slaves kept sand out of the home, there was plenty of time to play every day, and I even received a first rate education. When was the last time you met someone that knows how to read and write?

Languages, history, and arithmetic were not the only studies that were presented to me. See that candle over there? With a snap of my fingers it is lit. My tutors had taught me much about the psionic arts in the few short years that I had them. How different things would have been if I had been allowed to finish my training.

Just like the vibrant green life of this world, my blessed years had been violently cut short. The life of a merchant is full of trade expeditions through the desert wastes. On one such voyage the caravan never made it to the destination. I can remember that morning like it was yesterday.

From the rising red sun desert raiders swooped down from the dunes. They were not seen until they were upon us. The guards stood no chance against their speed and fury. Every member of the caravan was cut down. No one was spared, not even to be taken as slaves. Blood flowed freely upon the sand on that day.

Let me refresh your drink before I continue my story.

Ignis Part 1

Ignis Part 1:
By: James Dubeau

Who am I? Utter another word to me boy and I will send you to meet the spirits. All that you need to know is that the stories are true. I am a desert devil. I am death incarnate. Now leave me be before my wrath is invoked. Stow that tongue of yours before I drag you to the searing lands deep in the southern desert for the vultures to rip you asunder.

Do your ears not work boy? Can you not see that I am the very essence of the darkest recesses in your worst nightmares? My coal black eyes will devour your soul as my sharp teeth feast upon your flesh. Your blood will spill over my lips and nourish my crimson skin. These horns and tail are only a symbol of the infernal rage that burns deep within my being, a rage that you do not want to see.

Maska demands to know why you risk certain death. Why do you continue to ask foolish questions?

Oh no, I am not Maska. He is one of the many spirits swirling around you. When I twirl my carved wooden staff you will hear his wail. Can you hear him sing? He commands you to speak, to tell why you want to know who I am. Only a suitable answer will do or he will eat your still beating heart out of your chest.

So it is your friends that have put you up to asking about me. Maska is pleased, and so am I. Your boldness will serve you well. Would you like to see my spirit friend? His visage is not for the faint of heart. Do you see the great lizard sprit Maska? His translucent black body shimmers in the sunlight. He is just as demonic as I. That you can see from his spines, horns, and teeth.

Who am I? My name is Ignis, but a name only scratches the surface of who I am. There are many words that one can use to describe me: vile, vicious, harsh, ruthless, selfish, wise, intelligent, cursed, jaded, demonic, freed slave, shaman, healer, leader, and noble. I am as many different things as there are grains of sand in the desert. When the mood strikes me I’ll cup a precious cactus flower in my hands letting its soft beauty play out amongst my harsh skin. Other times a flick of my wrist will burn the same flower to a cinder just so that I may watch it be reduced to ash in my hands.

The day grows hot. Sit down and have a drink. There is much more I have to share.