A Fantasy of mine

I’ve mostly dabbled here in supposed poetry. I’ve been absent years and this latter part due to focus on my fantasy. The fantasy is a fantasy novel I am penning now. The initial title was Garbage Teller’s Passion Wage. It started as a light hearted funny yarn of romance in a mystical setting between a storyteller and a lady of royalty. Soon fantasy mixed with reality and all my negatives found expression, the yarn dwelt on the various faiths of people and all had their holy books and so as my quest for a story of great evil grew and took shape, I decided to add to the original title, Unholy Book of the Devil Emperor. Then the central character’s name was Vel meaning a spear, with inclusion of almost copies of Vel to make six spears indicative of a six faced god in mythology, the focus title of Spear Hymns was framed. Now intend to use all three titles. All Vels are lazy, intelligent, with insanity issues and much more. They have own stories in own different worlds yet a clear demarcation and differences of these characters yet to be made.

There is a saying that for the sake of world, a nation and for that a region and town and for the town a person can be sacrificed. Despite American individualism they subscribe to this reality as pragmatism. A child, a girl is the source of a devastating plague in many worlds. Killing her would end the plague and save billions across worlds, simple arithmetic. The hero against this creed of forced sacrifice fights to save girl is the main story.

But the hero is a bachelor, unable to find a bride due to madness and in a fling satisfies wifey needs but he sees a wife now as an essential burden to bear to get the reward of kids. Like all, hero cherished innocence and mischief of kids but only more so.He is wedded to his porn and in maximised pleasure except for lacking kids. So now the hero travelling with and fighting all worlds to save kid has special meaning. The hero’s greatest evil isn’t violence that follows in the story but perversions especially paedophilic instincts now long forgotten and cured. The girl is an orphan pushed in to being a child prostitute who is then injected to make the source of the plague. The hero has to break her barrier to make her trust him and he needs a mom figure for her for which he choses the unattainable royalty. Partway through he realised the only way of saving the girl wasn’t by goodness, good deeds and implication for compassion but rather getting more powerful than the combined powers of the world. He has no magic in a magical world and recruiting an army of girls made loyal he rises in merchanting to be the richest and commits many murders and with a big army wages wars against official powers of the world. He interacts with divine forces of three major faiths. Unlike well-wishers claiming all faiths are same and tell same, he differentiates them in to sunrise, noon and sunset faiths with much in common but much apart and each a consistent nice reality. He interacts with gods, angels, chosen of people, Emperors, devils and demons all wanting to use the power of the girl or kill her. so he becomes the most evil and powerful Devil emperor. This is the story and premise of my fantasy novel.

I once here scribbled raw,

you praised before thaw,

my laws laid by what saw,

tears dry, intel fail, punch with paw,

not a story but to offer my soul,

to sip or chip, your role,

my goal to have hearts stole,

give a try, ignite this coal.

My poetry verses above maybe poor and dashed on impulse without thought as always. But I am working on this fantasy genre manuscript on a professional basis including almost all of the tropes of the genre in an innovative way, more than two dozen. The evil isn’t fantasy but stark raw reprehensible reality including the caste identities in India and play of three major faiths there. The evil is the prime mover and the central character though with credible heroes and forces who win. Gods, angels and more come treated respectfully yet shunned. The exaggerations immense with all worlds and high heavens conquered by hero before fall. Not a single POV, all one hero tale, other spears shaped good and great and other heroes too, dance here. The crux of the power or force not the hero without magic but his army of girls, he calls daughters who together are the most potent force equal to the one god in many faiths.

Will keep posting progress of the work and hope to use this blog as launching pad for the novel in time since obviously traditional publishers will reject this. Wish me well and spread the word of the upcoming ‘SPEAR HYMNS

Quidditch (Quote)

(After Marakkurangu) quidditch is the first and most famous coed sport in the world but the fact that it can be played without brooms in reality is lost to the world is a sad thing, no need of broom but all you need is a coed team of friends and family.

செவ்வுள்ளம் (Red soul)

(This is a tamil poem but english paraphrase but not translation is given below. Once my dad wrote a page long poem spending great time and showed me and I after admiring it flipped the page and fastly scribbled these four lines.)

அந்தி மறுகும் செவ்வானம் அழகெனினும்,

பிந்தய நினைவுகளில் மிஞ்சி சிவக்கும் உள்ளம்,

இன்று தொற்றேன் என அகிலம் பறயாற்றும் ஆனால்,

வென்று நின்றேன் அவ்வானை என் கிறோத கனலினிலே.

Though the twilight pining red sky is beautiful,

old thoughts exceed as the soul reddens,

today I lost, the world may decree,

yet I stood conquering the sky with my red hot anger.

Will a restless soul

Will a restless soul find peace?
a lone wanderer shall always tire,
lost within like withered trees,
who will light his funeral pyre?

alone in his madness he walks,
never a part of a greater whole,
no company, to himself he talks,
longs for imprint of another soul;

how end his solitary foray,
who will stand by his side,
all pass through, none stay,
he walks with a sturdy stride;

life has tossed him to drift away,
must fight to reconquer his way.

I am downright filthy

I am downright filthy,
reeking of self pity,
glad to be wealthy,
yet shame of impurity;

wish to burn alive,
curing me of disgrace,
bees have a hive,
I have no one to face;

there will be a new dawn,
where I turn the tides,
a new vigour will be born,
be immersed in joy rides;

it isn’t question of me rising above,
but how many I drag out of their low.

Anchored

The ships with people have left port,
why do you still loiter here,
what ecstasy seek, whom court,
is it the seas that you fear?

I bow my head in shame,
for I fear the sea of change,
my painful life will be forever same,
yet there is a lure of the strange;

I now lack the guts to sail away,
yet I can still dream and hope,
someday I be on the sea’s sway,
sailing away from pain me dope;

now that is a journey I’ve forever planned,
but what use for I am anchored to land.