I've already submitted it for the Bardic, but I decided I WOULD share it here...
I was screwing around the other day, and I have no idea what I was doing, but I got a sudden brain wave. I ran to my computer and began typing.

The result is what I've got below. I've always wondered how I would think of Chaos, and how I would think of Warp's effect on the mind (of the Occultist) of my Occultist, Carthil. I've wondered what the slow effect of mild insanity would be on the brain.
Keep in mind that this is the way that I see it. This is not how I think everyone should see it. The title is simply there because it needed to be.

The piece of work also references Tarot, mentioning the Tower. This is a reference to the Chaos that I've wondered about. The Tower is "a crumbling tower" to my memory. Thank you in advance for reading.

~~~~~

Clench (and watch it all fall down around you), the Occultist’s Warp Theorem

In freedom we trust,
Be scared,
Clench.

Watch it all fall apart around you,
The Kingdoms built by men,
Clench.

Don’t be fussed with the plan, watch it all turn to rust,
See the wind whistling in, out, and through,
Nothing prepared, nothing left, nothing shared,
What do you do, how do you do, again?
Clench.


Cast out, find the world,
Your oyster, in a fist that is,
Clenched.

Care not for the cohesive nature of things,
Only that of what is in your mind that is,
Clenched.

So far, nothing’s happened, the sail’s unfurled,
Ride the wave of Chaos, the one that sings,
With a millions voices, none yours, all his,
The wave of Light is out, into his,
Clenched.


Fist that was, fist that does,
Mine was the fist that,
Clenches.

It all fell down, but for the Tower it fell up,
Crumbling, into the my fist while it,
Clenches.

And all that happened, in between, because,
Mine was looked after, like a little pup,
The runt, though, I ran, scurrying, like a rat,
Into hiding, where I belong, where I fit (into the),
Clenches.


Scream out,
The agony sings out, across my soul,
Clenching.

Maintain the Order you can,
It falls around me,
Clenching.

Yell it, scream it, challenge me, you’ll shout (in pain),
The realm your power spans,
Will crumble like my Tower, for never was it whole,
Only wholly in agony, resonating from the debris (that was),
Clenching.


It’s how I live, in Chaos, in fear,
But always with the power of my,
Clench.

I held your future, the time of all things,
A Rogue of the land, the sea, the sky (which I),
Clench.

I can’t relax the grip, lest all becomes clear,
Lest everything drops out of sight, left dangling on strings,
Like sanity, on strings, dangling out of sight, way up high,
Like sanity, gone on the winds of Chaos, the wave of Chaos, lest you break down and cry (in a),
Clench.

~~~~~

Elaborating on above, this is my character's view of the world. Finally, again, thank you.

Reading "I've wondered what the slow effect of mild insanity would be on the brain," I expected a lack of proper spelling and structure near the end, but, alas, I was let down. All in all, though, not bad. However, it could be better.

Can you explain with more explanation why you eckspeckted bad splling and struckchure? pl0x do it.
Seriously? Why would you expect that?

I'm taking all of what you said as a compliment made from complementary goodness. [/smartass]

EDIT: Oh. Right. Never mind. Fixed. I generally don't make it a habit to misspell things. My bad.

EDIT2: Looking over it, I'm pretty sure I was right. Point me out if I'm wrong.

Descent into madness, sort of thing. I've always associated Occultists with that. Losing one's grip on reality.

(It starts off comprehensible, and slowly begins to rot, and by the end, the reader has no idea what you're saying).

That doesn't explain why you were expecting bad spelling and structure.

Descent into madness.

You're dense.

I seriously don't see why the THEME of the piece itself would change the spelling and structure. I can understand your point on structure to a point, but I'm not going to have everything all over the place, if that's what you mean. You explain nothing.

EDIT: You edited. Didn't see that...
Still doesn't explain bad spelling. I can now understand your point on structure more, but again, it's just the way I did it. I said the slow effect of Chaos on the mind. I figure it wouldn't rot the mind, but more... create different thought patterns. Necromancy and Death magic is the kind of thing I would associate with rotting of the mind.

Madness = bad spelling and structure?

The Unabomber wrote very well and he was flippin' loony.

The Unabomber was also not wielding chaotic powers if I'm not mistaken. There's losing one's grip of reality, and then reality becoming nothing more than something for one to destroy. Words and letters become meaningless, ideas become nothing, and life is nothing more than wielding more power. That is what I see when I think madness.

[edit] : That is how I played my Cabalist, so that's just the way I see it. Obviously, people'll see power differently, but, I guess I'm a little biased.

It's okay. Like I said in my Original Post...
This is the way that Carthil sees it/feels it.

It's not Achaean enough. Aside from mentioning Chaos a few times, it could be any old guys ramblings.

Was anyone else convinced this would be a drawing/poem about constipation?

Speaking of Bardics, I wish they would hurry up with judging the November one. I guess they are two busy with e-puppies and kittens.

I'm not particularly impressed. The sentences fail to flow smoothly, which makes the repetition that is supposed to be invoked by the end word of each stanza seem more redundant than rhythmic. The overall impression one gets is that Carthil has made a feeble attempt to connect fragments of prose with a single word that hardly inspires the extravagant imagery he was likely shooting for. The inspiration for the poem has potential, but the execution is left wanting.

I liked it, but I'll agree with Amunet's criticism of the overall rhythm being choppy and the meter being a bit convoluted.

Also, I'd like to add that I honestly believe the theme behind one's story or poem could definitely make an obvious physical impact upon the piece itself. Shel Silverstein does this all the time, so much that all of his books and poems are only written on certain paper, with exact dimensions as to not interrupt anything due to page length or width.

I remember a short passage in As I Lay Dying where the main character, whom was falling into madness rather than a gradual slip, started having skewed and altered speech patterns.

Is this poem about clenching your ring when you get startled, or when you are really busting to go?

Sounds like a bad Metallica song about buttsecks.

I am clenching right now.

Multiple mentions of "fist" and "agony" would support my earlier assertion, Ruki.

*clench*

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*release*

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*clench*

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*release*

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*clench*

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*release*

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This is very theraputic.

what rukimoro said

I did what Ruki said and now I have to do laundry

It's called being in a car with a bad driver.

What do driving skills have to do with buttse... oh, I get it.

lol