I'm posting this because I keep talking of Hawk and I will now write it

How to Join	Member's Area	Private Library	Search	Sanctuary		Login
Main Forums	Discussion	Tech Talk	Mature Content	Archives	A home without a wall, Our haven without ends, A circle we all call Our Family of Friends!

DavePage
Member Elite

since 2003-12-21

Posts 2917

0 posted 2004-03-11 10:55 PM

The book is dual world and I still dont know whether it will run side by side or blend into one or two words

I've talked a lot about Hawk now I suppose I need to come up with the reality but this may be for a while and poetry and prose will intermix.

This is from Hawk, the boy in the real world will be underneath

His head buried deep in a cowl he approached the corpse of trees.

The rain sleeting down soaking him to the skin.

He pulled the cowl further over his face.

He called:

I call you Hawk because you see me
No matter where I am
Where I look I see your eyes
You tell me to nod
To smile
To duck
To come home
A wild day beckons
I don’t need your eyes
I need you
Here

Faintly he heard:

Only I can translate your vision
Your life on my breath
As Custom dictates

From beyond the hill and across the darkness, the words written in silence:

I am the darkness
I seek my maiden fair
In tattered and torn velvet dress
To be engulfed in hair
To feel her body warm
For me she wear’s no veil
Just eyes that stare ahead
And a face below the pale

Across the darkness silver gleamed in the moonlight as my lady joined me.

We touched noses in greeting.

My Lady changed back and settled on my shoulder.

They wait on the left she said, move in the light and down they expect you.   Your staff is too powerful to hide – the fire of your love burns within it.

I walked into the light hurling my staff high in the air where it joined the ash tree.

My Lady flew up in the air and towards the darken’d rest below.

The boy had returned but now a man.    Below should wait the Monk, Par Kee, Pril Loch and Midn Blue.

But first I had to reach the Rest.

The first rule I was ever taught was allow someone to hold you.   This immobilises them.  The second rule was someone hitting at my head to teach me to move before I was hit.

I jumped into the darkness and waited.

In the Earl’s Court the Chancellor sat as usual just below the Earl’s right hand.

The Chief touched his head to the floor and remained on one knee in salute.

Tell me Frey why am I worried about my Eastern Borders when you have some 2000 men at great expense defending them.

The Human cast

The Prologue

The Cast
Parky

I first saw Parky on the Drill Ground.

Every class had a week number – we were Class 53.

All his squads were of 12.

I asked why.

12 lad.  Add them together

3 Sir.

Divide that into 12.

4 Sir.

Not 4 lad.

Symmetry lad, that’s what you have.       2,3,4

shoulder arms 2,3,4
port arms 2,3,4
at the double 2,3,4
high port 2.3.4
double march.

There were lamposts just inside the walls.  You could just make it.

The assault course lay further inside the walls.

Only problem – smack inside the dockyard.

Inside the building the netting lay between the gangways.

And then there was Parky, and he of course looked after his gentlemen.

Monk

The monk had the right training.

Orphan, Boys training, Royal Marines, SBS, back to the Corp.

A consumate gambler; brain like a razor; set of ethics his own.

Very tolerant unless you broke his rules.

Quiet, never showed the strength he had, unless you forced him to and then always with restraint.

He killed if he had to, unlike Prilloch who killed because he loved it or because he didn’t know any better.

The monk was 5ft 7in, medium build, sandy hair and strength you never dreamed of.

I trusted the Monk.

Prilloch

Prilloch 5ft 11in.   Mousy hair with two overpowering loves in his life.

Himself which was love itself, and killing which was love.

Prilloch was arrogant, bullying, domineering and very alone.

Everyone attached to him had been killed.

Giving enough incentive, you could trust him for a second; after that you were on your own.

Boy

"My love said to me, I am your love to be
I've loved you more than I can say
But give me your hand
And walk to that tree
Then I will give my own love to thee"

I walked with my love across the common.

How can you love a person so much, and yet be able to live with her.

Hugging her, kissing her, thrilling with her.

What more could you want than love.

Her excitement in seeing the funfair grew as we moved closer.

The lights spinning around, the shouts of the rides.

We watched a spinning light move upwards from the dodgems and come towards us like a laser show.

It seemed to become hotter as it spun.

The grass catching fire and the wind moving towards us.

I grabbed her and ran.

The heat was scorching, I lost her hand.

I turned and the heat hit me in the face.

I couldn’t see her.

My mother’s voice echoed.  I have saved her.  You don’t deserve it, but I have saved your wench.

Did you think you could defy me?

Did you think you could leave your responsibilities and love a mortal.

Well let’s see if you can find her now.

Everything was black.   I could hear things but from where.

The motors of the circus seemed to be turning around in my head.

I knew they were before me, and my love lay there.

I stagged forward to my right and fell.

I could feel bones and a head – there was no hair.

My mother laughed.

I have saved her spirit.

She amuses me.

A voice spoke in my head.

To oppose your mother would cause more damage.

She has used fire and fire is her curse.

Look to your left, I will restore your eyes for a moment.

The burning tree.

As long as it burns you will see it.

When the fire goes out and you are blind, grab the branch you can see now.

Only when the fire is out and you are blind must you do this.

I shouted at him in impotence – I vow.   You will once again love and live with my mother.

I lay on the ground writhing in pain listening to a song I could not prevent.

"A flush of swirling dress
Mists the sense with rest
The wind will carry tales from on high
One to learned men,
One to men that bend
And one just for the men that ply"

I screamed

I stand in the temple and you are wrong
I stand on the hill and shout betrayed
I lie in the valley and you walk over me
You will never kill me
As long as people live, I am the defender of the shadows
You ask me for my reasons to love
I ask for your love of me, let me love.

That was how Parky and Prilloch found me.

Crying, wounded, hurt.

They guided me towards the tree, and held me up as I felt for the branch.

My love, my love – why.

I touched the branch and she loved me.

Something hit my chest, knocking me backwards.

I lost her.

I could see the branch, and grass and then I was flying.

I could see distant figures and I was hurtling towards them.

I stopped easily and looked at a man lying on the burnt grass.

It was me.

I often have dreams like that.

Two Gentlemen Met

In a room in London two gentlemen met.

Tea Godfrey ?

Thank you Simon.

No sugar Simon.

Have to watch my figure I’m afraid.

How is Hunty?

Envigorating.  Has me feeling like a new man.

How long has it been now.

We met in June – too early to think about things.

The Minister is unhappy with our lack of influence in a certain state in Afica.

The French are offering a good deal, and after that last EEC meeting – yes it was a bit of disaster wasn’t it.

He feels that we are not being competitive these days in our exports.

How does the Minister feel we can improve.

He feels it would bring a certain French Minister to appreciate Britain if we were able to meet certain requirements of this African State without them needing to trouble the French, who we all know are a little pre-occupied at the moment.

The problem as I understand it is that we can not meet the price that the French are offering with their heavy state subsidies, and in these ethical days we can not provide aid and pretend it is humanitarian to buy arms with it.

The Minister is aware of this, and would be interested in any suggestions that you might consider appropriate.

The two very Civil Servants parted to their respective Political Masters.

It was a very nice day and a very anonymous Civil Servant walked through Admiralty Arch.

Seeing a taxi he flagged it down.   North End Road, please.

North End Road Guv, don’t see many gentleman like yourself in that area.

My wife has a favourite little shop there.   A bra shop.

Got to keep the little women happy Guv.

Now my wife – touch anything you like, but leave her security alone – you know what I mean.

The one thing about a London Taxi Driver thought our anonymous friend – you don’t need to say very much.

Drop me down by the old swimming baths please Cabby.

There you are Guv.   Thanks Guv’nor – very good of you.

Watching the Taxi drive out of sight, the Servant headed through the back streets until he was just by Earls Court, and walked to the building near by.

Flashing his pass he was given immediate entrance and took the fast lift.

Smiling at the tea lady on her rounds he entered the room marked Royal Tournament, and swiftly became a Lieutenant Commander in the Supply and Secretariat Division.

The Team

I travelled down to Cirencester to meet them in a Bar near the Industrial Estate.

The Major – a relic from the first world war.

Big – ex-Guards and loud.

Irish – a relic from somewhere I wasn’t going to enquire about.
Irish was thin, hard and carried a light automatic.

He was from the South side of the Border and was wired to every movement anyone made.
Benny – two short planks could give him a good run for his money anytime.

He was short, italian looking, hair like he was 20 again, and was an ex-Lorry Driver who had lost too many lorries.

I suppose he put them down and just had trouble finding them again.

Scooter – wore a duck’s arse and thought he was one.

Scooter I liked – he clowned.   He might get you out of any establishment that charged £50 for all night but at least you never had any incentive to want to go back.

Scooter ran the errands.
The Boy

The Civilian with the red arm band.

Hope your not one of  those fairy cakes Son.

No Major – here for the money.   Only thing I want to touch.

Amen to that Boy.

Where they had dug these people up God alone knows, but that money had better be good.   I was frightened with this lot.   They were supposed to keep me alive and I was supposed to keep them alive.

The only problem was I didn’t think they could keep anyone alive long enough for it to matter.

7.15

It was 7.15 - I was late.

I parked my car on the right, back from the station.

A little sporty model parked alongside me.

Playing “Dream Along With Me I’m On My Way To The Stars”

Fiesta – midnight blue.

Ignored me even though I knew her which said taste.

Swinging her bum liked a vamp – off for the London train – no briefcase – paying business ticket prices – this girl wouldn’t do that.

What do middle age men do when they’ve hit the point of dreaming and it smack’s  them in the face?

My brain started clicking - where.

I’ve always thought low down.

I knew that arse.   Knitting needles.   You bitch..

I never even heard the swing – just the blackness and someone saying he’s collapsed, we’ll get him to the hospital.

After the first bend I was on the floor with someone holding me down and something on my back.  Suzanne by the feel of her and a smell over my mouth.

The next thing was water and I was choking, struggling for breath then someone was on top of me dragging me up.

He’ll live said a voice.  God alone knows why we keep on bothering.

I looked up into a face I knew, and was sick.

The most considerate person that you could trust, if you were that gullible smiled at me.

Everyone dies and he always lives.

Always in trouble boy.

Where would you be without us.

You arsehole.

Where is your gratitude boy.

We rescue you from the evildoers and do we get a word of thanks?

You always were an ungrateful lad.

Prilloch grinned at me, with his permanent sneer.

The Monk said “good to see you Boy”.

Someone has been showing a keen interest in you my boy.

When did you care, Parky?

They don’t even know I exist.

You run a web site delt_fast@bongo.co.uk

You’re still visiting those Japanese’s sites.

Someone put a bloodhound on a certain site you are fond of.

The bloodhound put a little file on your system.    Autoexec.something.   Alter some path and the next time you booted your computer it search through the .ini files and you had kindly placed your name and address ready for them to read and copied it to the cookie area.

Now haven’t I learnt a lot since you last met me.

The next time you indulged your little preference for Asian sites and large objects, it sent you back, bollocks and all to the bloodhound.

You’ve met Suzanne I take it.    The midnight blue looked at me.

Still knitting, Suzanne.

Still fond of Irish songs, Suzanne.

Then go off and hawk your arse to some other bureaucrat, Suzanne.

Teach him sense Monk.

Boy – I don’t like this anymore than you do.

If we’ve don’t live with Parky we’re dead.  Do what he says.

Why you Monk.

You’d kill him as quickly as I would.

Why.

I went to Burma to try and get her family to accept me.

They took me up to the mountain they owned – sight seeing.  They left me on a tree at the top.

She watched them do it.

Parky got me back.

Monk – I’m sorry.   Christ I’m sorry.

With all these budget cuts Boy, we’re reduced to using amateurs, so even you can creep in.

You tried to break me Parky.

You weren’t good enough.

Or you weren’t good enough and I was your sacrifice for your being a dupe.

It was smart of you to use a song.

Only intelligent thing you’ve done in your life Boy.

Blowing down the wrong end of a pipe I thought was special, but you’d know all about that and my successful life.

Carry on and you won’t have a life Boy.

Lacking the intelligence of our friends we went the official way.  Prilloch watched the station; Monk watched the roads and we all know your preference for black leather and fast cars.

It wasn’t difficult.

If you picked me up by the Tradesman’s Route, how do you know about the bloodhound.

You knew about the bloodhound.

Of course.

Everytime it wanted to write it asked me if I wanted to let it..

Do you remember your time in Mougans Le Hait.

Yes.

The trip down to the Forest.

Yes.

The blue signs on the trees and your car not where you thought you’d left it.

Yes.

The golf course and the whack off, of the trees as you past.

The church and the police in Valbonne.

The pine on the road, the cars skidding on oil and just missing you.

The bottles exploding in Carrfour.

Yes I bloody remember, now what the hell is going on.

Someone loves you.

Yes I’ve heard – ring home ET – your lady’s worried.

Midnight Blue’s car exploded.

Prilloch, I though you said there were no backup cars.

I appreciate Monk lying on top of me, but I'd rather get shot instead of having my face re-arranged on this rock.

Boy has never learned to appreciate help has he Monk?

Uncle Prilloch has gone to welcome them and put them on the straight and narrow again, Boy.

Very kind of him, can he pick my car up at the same time then, or is he late for church.

Prilloch is never late for church Boy, someone has to take the collection and nobody collects like Prilloch.  There isn’t a dry eye in the place when he has finished.

Why am I everyone’s favourite.

Africa my boy – when you were doing your boy scouts badges.

Africa

The Monk and I worked for a firm just off, of Middlesex Street.

We used the sandwich bar and watched the traffic.

Boy – how are you for money.

I’m studying Monk, what do you think.

Someone needs a civilian for a job.

I’m missing this Monk, what are you talking about.

There is a bunch of guys doing a job.

Someone insists they must have a “First Aider”.

You’ve spent too long raiding the MD’s cabinet, Monk.

It isn’t bandages you want, it’s a white coat.

Don’t mess with me Boy.

I don’t know you Monk.

I don’t know that I want too when you start this crap.

I recommended you Boy.

Before you spoke to me then Monk.

I like you Monk but you are playing a deep game.

Where do I find them, Monk?

The Discussion

Everyone one in the dark needs a wish.

They’d brought me in carrying me after they had worked me over.

They put me in a small cell.

They called it their brain.

It condensed the mind wonderfully.

No real light no nothing just a hole.

My face blue, my balls blue, my shoulders fixed and wouldn’t come straight.

The dark closed on me and I lay illuminated by the flashes in my brain.

I look at the door and I sang:

“I’M A ROVER, SELDOM SOBER,
I’M A ROVER OF HIGH DEGREE,
IT’S WHEN I’M DRINKING, I’M ALWAYS THINKING,
HOW TO GAIN MY LOVE’S COMPANY”.

The hatch was slung open.

Keep it down sunny or you won’t need any love.

What did they make of you before they your arse, Sergeant.?

I teach you son.

You certainly couldn’t teach you son.

You couldn’t father one.

We’ve got a hard man here Corporal..

Break him in the man said.

The door swung open, light flooding into the room.

I hadn’t eaten so the first blow was just pain.

Then they kicked me, one with his boot on my neck, one each with a boot on the back of my hands whilst they stamped on me.

I wouldn’t pass out.   I’d kill the bastards first.

They left me alone.   Their boots hitting the iron gangway.

My hands were useless.   I used my head on the floor to get me to my knees.

I could kneel.

The pain washed over me.    I could see them in my head and I knew I had the bastards.

I’M A ROVER SELDOM SOBER.

Keep it down sonny, or we make sure you never roam.

I’M A ROVER SELDOM SOBER.

Lad want’s a lesson again Sergeant.

Good.  Let’s sort the bastard out once and full all.

The door opened.

Well, well, still on his knees.   Good place for him.

Put these cuffs on him and hang him from the hook.

Doesn’t he spin nicely?

You don’t want children do you sonny and they spun me around again.

I could see black and spots and then nothing.

They came back and back.

I woke on the floor again.

A kind voice said to me “why are you making this happen”.

We don’t want to hurt you.

We’ve brought you to your Naval friends to look after you.

She had shiny boots.  I spat on them.

I hit the wall as she kicked me.

You’ll really must learn to co-operate.

What happened in Africa?

Why only you to come back.

We know you were in Hamburg.   We know you lived in Youngs Allee.

We know about the acht um acht and the merchant seaman.

“I’M A ROVER SELDOM SOBER

I’M A ROVER OF HIGH DEGREE

IT’S WHEN I’M DRINKING
I’M ALWAYS THINKING
YOU A RENT BOY’S CUP OF TEA

What do you want when you need a women, since you can’t take men.

Buy one or maybe some chocolate for the children.

She took a knitting needle out of her bag.

You’d better pray I’m accurate with this.

The door open on cue and they started again.

Only this time she used a primitive form of accupressure, on my head an inch in front of my ears.

The side of my throat about four inches down gave her pleasure but she seemed to be fascinated by my arse and my hip joint.

Above my ears was a special area for her.

The pain didn’t make me scream, it make me vomit.  It went through my life until there was nothing but pain and a soothing voice telling me I was amongst friends.

In my head it said “I’M A ROVER SELDOM SOBER, I’M A ROVER OF HIGH DEGREE, IT’S WHEN I’M DRINKING, I’M ALWAYS THINKING, HOW TO GAIN MY LOVE’S COMPANY”.

She looked into my eyes.  Her midnight blue eyes loving my pain. penetrating into my eyes me in my pain.

They left me.

In my vomit and on the floor.

I haven’t slept so well in years.

They came back to me.

There were no lights.

They held me up.

The lit a match on the blow torch.

I didn’t have food left to do anything with.

When someone moves they move their throat first.

People holding you aren’t used to the strange position they must hold to hold you.

My Master taught me “when they hold your arms they take their own freedom away”.

I moved my right leg back.

The guard on my right threw me forward.

This allowed me to move my right foot to the left and two foot from my left foot so I was sideways on to the guard on my left.

The blowtorch scorched my back.

It burnt the arm and stomach of the guard still hanging onto me.

I sidekicked the guard, and using the momentum turned my head to get my balance and kicked the guard in the bollocks with the blowtorch.

The blowtorch went across my chest.

I put a knuckle each into the eye of the blowtorch holder.

I couldn’t catch Midnight, but the blowtorch could.

Her back caught as she rang for the door.

Her face was in my hand when they shot me.

I woke up in pain.

I looked at the door.

The cement over it was about 6 foot from the ground.

Part of the discipline is to kneel unmoving in an ice cold stream.

There was just enough for me to stand on the cement and place my hands on the roof.

Once there I could use the relaxation technique to take me out of this world and into another.

I moved there.

The shutter moved and slammed again.

I can’t see the Bastard, Sergeant.

He hasn’t gone anywhere.

The shutter moved again.

Cover me Corporal.

The door opened.

He can’t have gone.   Why do they put crap light in these boxes.

Get the Colonel, Corporal.

I heard the voice from a distance.

He hasn’t gone anywhere.   Leave it closed, he’ll get hungry.

I swam in the plain.

Bodies took me and showed me peace.   They gave me their souls.

I gave them my pain.

They caressed me and my injuries were no more.

People who would hurt you, approach, you must go back to your body.

I know you are there Boy.

I’ll leave the door open and you can come out.

I’M A ROVER, SELDOM SOBER
I’M A ROVER OF HIGH DEGREE
IT’S WHEN I’M DRINKING
I’M ALWAYS THINKING
HOW TO GAIN MY LOVE’S COMPANY

The bastards on the roof Colonel.

Let me use rubber on him.

You’ve failed, and your master has failed.

I didn’t agree with this, he comes out free.

I dropped down and walked out of the door.

They sprayed gas into my face.

I couldn’t feel them picking me up.

The building had three floors with netting between each floor.

Someone on the left started to sing:

I’M A ROVER

The next cell sang “SELDOM SOBER”
The song began to move from cell to cell.
They sang for me.
All their troubles and they sang for me.
The whole block echoed to the song that saved me.
In all my life I’ve never nothing like it
They saved me.
They frightened the Sergeants and Corporals.
They taught them about power.

And those poor bastards are still there.

They carried me to a white bed and sleep.

[This message has been edited by Christopher (03-12-2004 04:13 PM).]

Greeneyes

Member Rara Avis

since 2000-09-09

Posts 9903
In Your Poetic Mind

1 posted 2004-03-12 12:38 PM

you started off talking about a hawk and then rambled into a new topic....it's long and most I didnt understand....thats just me though

and please take the ******** out the cuss words take away from this....I will have to read it a second time

~~**~~
Walking with bare feet
among a tapestry of words,
each woven thread, awakening the soul
~~**~~

DavePage
Member Elite

since 2003-12-21

Posts 2917

2 posted 2004-03-12 01:13 PM

I made the point at the begining that I hadn't made up my mind whether this would run parallel or overlap between current world and fantasy.

Hawk runs in one world, boy runs in another.

Whether the boy is Hawk and dreaming or Hawk has passed his thoughts onto the boy is something I am only starting to explore.

The cuss-words as you point out, are not there for effect, they are there because it is reality and they fit where they are used.

Maybe your implicit comments that this is not the right venue and written specifically for one person is correct.

It is written because I actually believe I will write both fantasy and reality but the cross over has happened since I first wrote Hawk - a few words, and then found myself writing the reality and sketching out ideas for three books.

Hawk always remained something in my mind and in poetry, yet the substance of the world is already there in my head, whilst reality I have to work at.

Dave

Cpat Hair

Member Patricius

since 2001-06-05

Posts 11793

3 posted 2004-03-12 02:28 PM

Dave,
the language, while reality..or real in many of our worlds, is not within the guidelines of these forums. The Adult forums, while not fitted with a prose section could accept the language, but here, it truly needs to be edited so that even the youngest of our readers are not offended.
this has nothing to do with the story line or with whether or not such language is fitting such a story, but everything to do with the guidelines for the forums themselves.

I personally would like to see you edit it yourself, before a moderator takes it upon themselves to do it.

Christopher

Moderator

Member Rara Avis

since 1999-08-02

Posts 8296
Purgatorial Incarceration

4 posted 2004-03-12 04:16 PM

As Ron said, it's within the guidelines that we "watch our language." It's not a question on your work or the suitability of your piece. The guidelines are simple and specific, so, since you've chosen not to, I've deleted out the asterisks. Since I don't think putting < edited by moderator > is any better than asterisks, I've just deleted them, which, I admit, has made some of your sentences look kinda odd. You're more than welcome to adjust them or find appropriate adjectives to fix that.

Christopher

MGROVES

Member Elite

since 2004-02-01

Posts 3802
california

5 posted 2005-02-25 10:44 PM

interesting~
will have to read again
n take more time~

	⇧ top of page ⇧
All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format.