Braveheart Made Me a Bard (Part 3) – Mad Chaos: February 14, 1999

Waiting on the Printer

When my phone call with Ralf was over I hung up and got back to getting very tired but as the time was nearing 6:00 p.m. I decided to give Shawn a call again. Shawn told me he would be an hour or two and it was already past that so when I called him again I asked if he would be coming over still. After informing me that he still was coming over to drop off the printer he informed me that Ace was asking for my phone number but later I found out that it was for Saturday night, to see if I wanted to head out to ‘Kicks’ nightclub.

Printer Arrives Mid Nap

Reaching around 6:30 p.m. I decided to finally try and get some sleep in my waterbed and not worry about Shawn coming over for that point in time. Sleep didn’t come as easy as I thought it would but within minutes I was asleep. Now, what surprised me is that half an hour later Shawn and Tatton came over my house and walked into my room carrying the printer for me.

What actually surprised me is that I woke up without feeling very tired and for that half an hour of very light sleep I could keep myself awake until 10:30 p.m. that night. Luckily I thought to keep my pants on as I was sleeping to prevent me from being in the nude if anyone did walk in. Thus, I got out of bed and keeping them over my house I set up the printer as I talked to them but because I didn’t have my windows 95 disk to set up the right files for installation I couldn’t print anything.

Regardless of that flaw we played a game of ‘13’ and then after half an hour it was time for the both of them to head out and watch a movie for the night. When the both of them left I had the rest of the night to myself and as Braveheart started I began to watch it until the conclusion of the epic which staged for two nights. When the time had reached 10:30 p.m. I took myself straight to bed and slept like a baby.

A Braveheart Sonnet

Now, before I even try to begin Saturday’s day let me just note that on Saturday night as Lyssa slept over my house I wrote another poem. This came to me as a source of inspiration after watching Braveheart and even though Lyssa was here and with her blessing after reading my printed poetry, I began on my journey. Lyssa had gone to sleep when I had started writing and although I finished around 2:30 a.m. in the morning and didn’t get to sleep a little later I still woke up fairly early.

The Sonnet I wasn’t sure whether to place within my printable portion or on the outside of it. Choosing the right path for this Sonnet was a hard choice but by a skim of a couple of hairs it made it into the publishable Sonnets even though it was somewhat confused of meaning. Anyway, here is the Sonnet and in later days, I shall explain the meaning of such poetry…

That I shall brave death, that brave-death I shall

I have nothing but with a startled tongue,

For all the spoils that my journey hath brought,

That with it, my Scots have by the neck hung,

And to their deaths will be thy lesson taught,

I stand, steadfast on this theater of war,

Resilient I, with my sword shall coat,

Such stronghold’s defense, to his heart’s deplore,

That begs he, cut not such a fortified throat,

For Scottish freedom does this proud heart kill,

And I shall, Scottish freedom with this price,

And I for you, loyalist blood shall spill,

That matters not we are outnumbered thrice,

And I am, with ebbing patriot shield,

Just one more martyr on the battlefield,

A Bard Nobody Lets Be

Now, let me just note that on the same night and just before finishing this Sonnet I wrote another smaller poem that had no rhyme and was thus a blank verse poem. This was inspired by my thought of my interviews on Saturday and how I am neglected of most jobs simply because I am a male and they believe that a female can do a better or a more prettier job. Thus, my esteem was dubbed lower and for that I thought to harness my anger into words and thus, I did.

Instead of me just saying ‘Why doesn’t anyone give me a chance at a job I know I am capable of doing’ I wrote it as if I was a bard that no one would let me be. Being a bard is what I really wanted to be and no one would let me explore that option, no one would let me be free and no one would believe that I could do better or just as well as most. Here now is my four line blank verse, I hope you reap some rewards out of it even though it is a tad lost and briefly explainable.

No one will leave me be a bard,

No one will let me be free,

No one believes I have talent,

No one will let me be me,

Shawn the Shakespeare Critic

Now, once again, tonight I have created some more poetry and both have been because of something I was told by Shawn whom I think resents the poetry I have created. While at his house on Saturday printing out my poetry I showed Ralf the poem about the lady across the street (Who I have now seen in full bloom and adore more than ever) and when Shawn got his hands on it he went straight into criticizing mode. The funny thing is he didn’t really know what he was going on about.

Basically, he tried to tell me that I had to fix up my grammar and spelling before anything else in my Sonnet. Trying to see what he meant having a healthy perspective upon it he showed me that if I was truly trying to write in a Shakespearean style I would have to change ‘Stone’s throw away’ into ‘Ston’s throw away’. “In this type of writing it’s a rule when using the apostrophe that you have to take out all ending vowels unless it is someone’s name,” uttered Shawn in his scrutinizing tone.

Defending My Own Spelling

This I argued as I informed him that I wasn’t trying to imitate Shakespeare or his writing to a tee but I was trying to be free with my words. What are words anyway, they are just made up vowels, syllables, letters and meanings to objects and emotions. It matters not if I call an apple an aple or to say tend as tende. Shakespeare himself flirted with the idea of changing characteristics and spelling in words and thus, I keep my own style as I do not follow anyone else’s.

So, Shawn was just speaking out of his ass, as he probably wanted to show off the fact he thought he knew more about my prized subject than I. Maybe it was because he had a book of old English prose and poetry in his hand by Shakespeare or maybe it was the fact that he was trying to put Noah on a higher pedestal than I but whatever it was, his scrutinizing led to no avail and I was the benefit of no lost pride.

Quatrain and Haiku

Anyway, to that little frolic of words I brought along my thoughts tonight and upon them, have created these latest two poems. One is of a quatrain and the other is a Haiku. Both try and get across the same message that I am free in my literature, let me see if you can acknowledge the same in these poems.

A book is not made of wisdom’s strict prose,

But with fluency in those characters,

And if I were to write, fluency grows,

That my words shall his words paint with pictures,

Language to me is,

An experiment of words,

Syllables and phrase,

Explaining the Lines

Now, in the first poem I shall just explain the use of ‘his’ in the last line and who it belongs to. As ‘Wisdom’ is the only susceptible character of the poem it is then wisdom’s strict prose that my words shall his words paint with pictures. The second poem which is the Haiku speaks rather like an aphorism that I believe has a common truth. In truth, that is basically the basis of language, an experiment of these three counterparts that makes up the whole of its wordiness.

In my pursuit of writing poetry on Saturday night I also came up with some poetical lines for two other Sonnets for the lost years where one of them I will definitely use for the last couplet and the other I am not certain of. An idea came for another Sonnet for the lost years and thus, this brings a possible tally for the lost years Sonnets to nine.

Signing Off Tired

Well, I have explained the all to which Friday’s worth shall be. Now with these growing bones that plead a tired mind to allow them recuperation, I will here sleep and sleep well. Monday is another day of great expectations as I am hopeful of waking up around 9:00 a.m. and heading out to the City in search of temping agencies to sign up with. Lyssa wants me to meet her for lunch at 11:30 a.m. but I doubt I will be in there by then. The time now is 1:45 a.m.