Tuesday, January 28, 2003

Under The River (of Words)

I wrote the sunshine,
I wrote the blue sky,
I wrote rain,
I wrote snow,
I wrote a grey wall of cloud,
I wrote a warm flowered field,
I wrote the lovers running hand in hand there,
I wrote a child in swaddling clothes,
But I never wrote the end,
I had no idea how hard it would be,
Not to be there when the words came through.

I'm carried in black water where no one can see,
The ghosts walk in and out of me,
Like the wind through an open door,
Only silent angels sitting on clouds can smile.

Every drive by and I feel the pull,
That little place I came from knows me,
The river runs there silent and endless,
It pulls the tears from my hiding eyes,
When no one is looking the green water flows,
Just as the words fall from my blind fingers,
The river whispers of eating the banks,
The delicious bitterness of that change.

Run the maze,
Riddle me this,
When your heart is pulled from your chest,
Lies beating upon the pillow of black silk,
Do they watch to see if you stop before it does,
And do the answers rise in the frozen air,
With each steaming beat?

Please don't feed on anger,
Leave fear it is no more help,
When the ghosts call let them hold your hand,
I will remember,
I will love,
Even if you can't see enough,
Don't hold to Hell on my account,
I'll not look down on you if you fly,
Walk the fires to your own drummer,
Please don't hide your crying eyes,
This time is yours as you need,
And I'll ask no more of your clock,
Than you can bear to give.

I can't see their faces yet,
But the angels are smiling,
I can't hear their whispers yet,
But I can still find these damn blurred wet keys,
Walk under Heaven and say hello for me,
I'm still swimming here,
In all these colors under the river of words.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/27/2003

Author's Comments:
Don't think I don't care, but don't think you can't go,
if or when you need.

Sunday, January 19, 2003


I feel my head is spinning,
So many details,
So many feelings,
So many tears awaiting cheeks,
Will the force of the spin,
Keep any of us standing,
Just like a top,
You can only fall,
After the spin...



By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/19/2003

Author's Comments:
I'm out of here for the next few days.
Thank you all, and all of you be well.

Saturday, January 18, 2003

Trumpets Gold Joy:

The Devil is pulling his tail on lonely street,
I see what dances 'round her head,
The angels will come and all the light,
Some of them I've missed since a boy,
Blue and gold and platinum,
Dance at the end of the rainbow I can not see,
I can feel the whispers,
Shiver my tender living bones,
Send me on to Sinai whirling,
Or falling softly through the clouds,
I know what they've come for,
This moment of birth and light of free soul,
At the edges of our vision God smiles,
As his herald trumpets gold joy.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/17/2003

Author's Comments:
The Evel Kurz of Kanzer is upon my mother's mind, she is falling and not all my mejik can save her from the whims of the Faytes. The fingers of the *KURZ* are grown between her ears, and we are dreaming the dreams of stones, the ones that never come true. Only fourteen setting suns is the best guess of the sages, who speak with glazen eyes. In the blogverse or the realverse, this is a spell of Great Pain.
In The Teeth Of The Storm:

I had a vision a moment ago,
The porthole was opening,
The bird awaiting to fly free,
Outside was sunshine and calm seas.

So long had we sailed,
Tossed by the storm,
Upon the sea of your creation,
Masterful the skill of dodging your waves,
Even the ones from outside your world.

In the end the stones are too many,
We've crewed the lifeboats as you lie helpless,
And command by committee now reigns,
Your first and your second we shall carry on,
The third still sails the gale.

When the albatross flies home,
And the black skies of the heart are raging,
I'll remember the best of you,
In the teeth of the storm.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/17/2003

Author's Comments:
My mother is a fighter, fierce and unyielding,
but she is laid low by MS and Parkinson's both.
Things are not well right now, but even the bravest and
strongest cannot outlast time and elements, and these
fights are one no one alive knows how to win. It's been hard
on all of us her children living under such a captain, but
there are things worth knowing we learned as well.
I Fell Through:

I fell through the pain today,
Strange how cold looking up,
At the clear surface I can not break through,
How cold and numb the immersion,
Where I can no longer breathe,
Touch is gone to me now,
As life rewinds behind my eyes,
Above the snow is taking the light,
The cracks of my escape are freezing over,
I thought I left my dime in the fountain,
So many pennies in the wishing wells,
There is no bottom,
It's only inside the blackness,
I'm finally free to fly,
Trying not to remember,
The moments of your horrified eyes.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/17/2002

Author's Comments:
So cold in this place.

Friday, January 17, 2003

In The Wash Of Maybe:

The torrent in my mind carries me,
Here and there the stones block my way,
Carefully and strong swim,
Else the bruises of resistance are painful,
Best is to drift with the current,
Until that moment,
The one where a single powerful stroke,
Makes just the happy turn,
Maybe, just maybe...


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/17/2003

Author's Comments:
Possibilities are perceived, but careful navigation
is required.

Tuesday, January 14, 2003

Where The Candle Once Flamed:

When the flame is small and barely holds the wick,
When the slightest puff of breath threatens it's glow,
It's then the light is most precious,
Look long and hard at the light,
For you will miss it once the red ember goes black,
Not even able to see the smoke stop rising,
Brilliant though it had been,
When it's gone,
That's when you find yourself truly missing the candle.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/14/2003

Author's Comments:
There are a few around me now in their Winter years,
and when the time comes on, I will not fail to remember.
While they are here, I will look on to see what is in the light.

Friday, January 10, 2003

Sea of Dreams:

The Summer breeze flew through the window,
Cicadas were making music,
Moon smiling orange low,
Eyes bound to fall,
Somewhere in the vastness,
Weeping drew my name,
Reaching ever reaching I could only see,
Love sat grounded upon the stones,
Looking this way and that to find me,
I was but fifteen and infinitely possible,
I was the black waters of Love's wept sea,
I was the stones her curves rested upon,
Invisible through mundanity,
I cradled Love and called,
Yet She heard only slapping waves,
Burbling nonsense of the yearning tides,
All my reaching brought empty stone arms,
My eyes were only the sea of lonely tears,
Love's softness rested fully against me untouchable,
It's in the depths of raging frustration,
That the Secrets of Darkness unfold,
In the being of an untapped no longer child,
Yet to be held by aught but the Sea of Dreams.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/10/2003

Author's Comments:
Can you remember the fierce yearning of untried youth?

Gentle Light:

I light the light of hope,
Add my voice to the song of love.

As this candle burns with gentle light,
Grant the gift of love to every heart,
The gift of reason and kindness shall come,
See the gentle light with us.

Gather faith to you,
Stand upon it as bedrock,
As God spoke with all His names,
We live now in faith and love.

As this candle burns with gentle light,
Grant the gift of love to every heart,
The gift of reason and kindness shall come,
See the gentle light with us.

Peace harmony and happiness,
These are the gifts of a loving soul,
Given now to all freely as they reach for them,
The most wonderful thing I feel and see.

As this candle burns with gentle light,
Grant the gift of love to every heart,
The gift of reason and kindness shall come,
See the gentle light with us.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/10/2003

Author's Comments:
The more of us there are pouring out Love on the world
with faith and perseverance, the better the world we live in.
Join in.

Thursday, January 09, 2003

The Comm Grid is behaving fairly well tonight, a high speed spell link was getting Grimlen nibbles and going *bumpiddy*, but everything else has just been minor *wogglies*. All of you out there in the Blogverse have a wonderful night and thank you for scrying the *Spell Book*


In the land of Imagine,
Anything can happen from any direction,
Passion from a single eye catch,
Wandered down a once untrod street,
Money flutters down the street,
As the partiers throw green confetti,
Future meets wish in a chance encounter,
Stumble meets a kiss on a was-lonely corner,
Inspiration in the rumble of an elevated train,
Sparks shower from steel like ideas in the wind,
Hunch-picked a flyer fluttering in the breeze,
Saw a fascination never dreamed of,
Turned the corner and stumbled,
Found gold in happy abundance,
Where the foot did slide.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/09/2003

Author's Comments:
You just never know what life will bring,
but I think if you expect happy it's more likely to be.
It was a strange and awesome spell cast in the Cavern of Candleyears, but the ghosts were appeased by the company, the winds were satisfied to sing a vision whisper, and the spirits of the Earth felt at home for a brief time again. It's such a shame that all the rigidity of mind that has been is taking so long to fade. The Earth spirits need our help now to restore the balance before reality snaps uncontrolled upon us once more. Science Magic is a powerful thing. The beastlieness of reality is that we create it, and the more minds that lock beliefs in one direction, the greater reality's overall movement in that direction. Lack of general knowledge of this principle is currently a drawback to Science Magic. Wherever you can find it in your heart to believe, pray for the Earth to be healed in harmony with Science Magic and not in spite of it. This will in the end bring a gentle merger between spiritual law and scientific law, creating a much more pleasant long term condition in the universe. This is the first precept of the Book of the Tecnomage Philosophy, and it's most important and deeply magical concept. All rituals and rites after this prelude fall within the spirit of this law of universal function. Take for instance the Candle Trance spell:

Candle Trance:

The flame flickers in blue trace to yellow,
Dancing upon the pin of sheer black,
As the wax must softly bleed hot,
Becoming just a puddle,
Subservient to the essence of the flame,
See how Law follows the flame of Will,
Should will burn steadily to left,
Law to the left becomes fluid,
Law to the right becomes rigid,
Flow of action rolls from fluid to rigid,
New shape of Law is the result,
Will is the flame,
Law is the wax,
Intellect and Heart are air and breeze,
Intellect, Will, and finally Heart,
These three must act in concert,
Or Law follows it's set path,
See the light of your need,
It will flow from the well burnt candle.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/09/2003

Author's Comments:
Remember the High Law of Harmonious Purpose.
Discord can bring the candle flame to touch
the flesh of the source of ill Will.

The Whisper Makers whispered slowly,
Droning like the rain,
Or maybe like the wind through carved rocks,
The night painted sky pictures longingly,
Until you reached the cave where they whispered,
Bathed in the light of two thousand three candles,
Yet filled with whispering shadows,
I sat cross-legged on a leather pad,
Staring into candle flames wherever I looked,
Even if I never looked,
I saw because I heard the whispers,
I saw a vision of you,
Late at night curled up covered you were,
Reading a book of magical musings,
Half whispered off to sleep by those words,
As we met in this twilight of the mind,
I heard the whispers of the words you read,
Even as I said them to my journal,
The one you were reading,
And we saw each other reflected in the shadows of ourselves,
Because we met in the twilight between whispers,
And it never mattered if we closed our eyes.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/08/2003

Author's Comments:
On the important meeting of reader and author,
the meeting of minds. There is a magic to it.

Wednesday, January 08, 2003

Picture Infinity:

There are many infinite things,
Words that dance,
Dreams to inspire,
Questions and answers,
The great topper Love,
The distance to the edge of the universe,
Atoms of hydrogen in same,
But where can you actually see it,
This infinity thing with your own two eyes?


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/08/2003

Author's Comments:
I always loved the effect.

Friday, January 03, 2003

Finally! I just managed to *bloggify* the blogplane woggles into place. Please note the Guest Scroll now appears to the right rather than way at the bottom of my *rambles*. It would be really nice if some of you whizzyrds, enchantrisses, and goblens out there decided to put the magic quill to the Guest Scroll As always, thank you for *Blogging* in!.
I am trying to *tweak* the layout of my Blogplane, but the spells are getting *gollywoggled* something fierce. Must be the Mercury Retrograde thingy.
*POOF* *AquarianM tumbles out of the bloggy sky back into the Blogverse*

"Hellooo..." It's been a bit since I could afford the time to travel personally into this sphere of influence, I hope you've enjoyed my various notes and missives. I've been exceptionally busy observing *celebration* spells in the *monottnuss* dimension. It's actually been rather interesting and fun. Anyway, that's all past now. I'm back to spending much of my time away from the Comm Grid working to save Baker Keep. Actually, there have been interesting developements. There is an Enchantriss who has a *nostalgic* connection to Baker Keep that has thrown in with me spell for spell. She has quite a good bit of experience in inducing *greenspells* out of Politicoweevils via mysterious and complicated *GRANT* spells. We may just restore the keep with enough *luck* and *blessing* spells coming our way. I certainly am working hard on the *PRAYER* spells. These are a potent but subtle form of *spiritool* magic granted by the Great Diety Of All Universes. I hope I was and am able to perform them to His satisfaction.

The current status of Baker Keep is that it has been completely overrun by Bank Trulls. That's the bad news. The good news is, the Bank Trulls are likely to *maintain* the Keep in as best condition as possible, because what they really want is to *entice* or *coerce* as many *greenspells* as they can out of any whizzyrd looking to take up residence in the Grand Keep of the Fox River Valley. The keep is rife with Ghostees and *Mnemonic* and *nostalgic* treasures, and is the perfect place to host a Grand Whizzyrd's Ball.

Please feel free to read the *Monottnuss* documentation at the *weBlog*, Save Hotel Baker. And as always, a grand *THANK YOU* spell for visiting my musty old scroll department.

Happy New Year, Whizzyrds, Enchantrisses, and Goblens!

Thursday, January 02, 2003

Love Charm:

In the hollow note of silence,
Eyes closed seeing behind the darkness,
A soft red glow that beats,
Crescendos of golden light,
Thoughts of arms wound hugging tight,
Upon the winds of lonely released,
Fly through a hail of uncried missing tears,
Falling upon your far away breast,
When it melts into you,
Do you look up and wistful smile the sky,
As I drift off to our shared dream?


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/02/03

Author's Comments:
Meditation for the temporarily separated.
Candlemoss Peak:

They still whisper her name...

The sun set upon the mountain in cold despair,
Lovers entwined in bliss and candleglow,
No ear for the world just a cotton tent away.

The black sun rose unseen,
The stars all went blinding dark,
There was a great howling wind come up.

I heard the shriek when I walked the path,
Spring was dancing there by somber green light,
Bare ground braced the stone circle.

Frost was upon the circle stones,
While Summer was almost nigh,
In the center the unlit candle burns...

Bed of soft blue ice moss surrounding,
Cold glowing wax of frozen memory,
Black eyes seen invisible in the sky.

They'd sung of her in far lands,
But she walked with him out of the world,
The night the blizzard raged.

The mountain banjo mourns in twanged steel,
Lamenting voices drown the wind,
Walk that path to the circle and hear the unheard.

None know how the candle appeared,
Some reflection of a broken heart was whispered,
Perhaps the stones are solidified tears.

There 'pon Candlemoss Peak.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/02/03

Author's Comments:
Purely a fictional lament. I'm not sure where
the inspiration came from, just out there in the void.

Wednesday, January 01, 2003

Cinnamon And Sorbet Christmas:

Downtown Hi-rise,
Touches of snow,
Cars and cabs and utility trucks,
Quiet night glow of decorations,
Flood the deserted hours with pretty,
Cherry wood paneled lobby comes first,
Deep beautiful red wood throughout,
Soft pink and somber red marble floors,
Brick red marble outside on columns,
Tall, tall arched goldish brass door gleaming glass,
Rays like sun up over the top,
Evergreen garlands and wreaths line windows,
Framed in red wood
Chocolate syrup and cherry juice colors,
Wrapped in Christmas green with white lights,
Twelve foot tree with burgundy and gold ornaments,
White inside the arch out over the door,
Red and green lights shine up there,
Soft frosted light sconces under the eaves,
With their red and green bulbs,
Looking for all the world,
At cherry and mint sorbet bowls,
Step past the florist shop next,
Antique Santas in silver and white,
Glass angels and green wreathes,
Giant wrapping box ornaments,
Dangling from icicle wire,
Intricate involved and spectacle beauty,
To next the stately white marble lobby,
With cinnamon tinsel and gold ornamented trees,
Twin eight footers with presents underneath,
Or the building with chromed in windows,
Red and green shine brilliantly up the glass,
Alternating rows and chrome revolving doors,
Inside two stories tall and open,
White marble and a giant stars and stripes,
There back o' the desk,
Eight trees from tiny to too tall,
With a kid sized Christmas train winding through,
And snowing stuffed puppies and kittens and snowflakes,
All dangling down inside surreal,
Just a short walk from work to the garage,
And just the beginning of the magic just passed.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/01/2003

Author's Comments:
This was my walk to and from the parking ramp
this Christmas season, and it was so well done
and exceptionally pretty I don't ever want to forget.
It was a spectacular year for decorating in 2002, everyone
went all out, and this is in thanks to everyone who
worked to make Christmas so beautiful this year.
The Sears tower has a three story tree in their
all glass entry foyer with thousands of twinkling white
lights that is absolutely brilliant in simple silver
gauze garland wrap. Just wow.