I'm new to this forum [I wasn't even aware Rendo had a writer's forum!] and I thought I'd say hello...

I've been writing this and that for a while... if you'd like to take a look go here for some of my lyrics

and here  for some of my poetry. 

I've had a few things published in a collaborative effort in the alt.cyberpunk. chatsubo Anthology Vol.1 and Vol 2. Volume 3 is in the planning stages so if you are interested in cyberpunk  or future speculative fiction writing drop by a.c.c. and take a look at some of the things members there have written...

There I'm known as "Troubadour" and here I use the nick "gishzida"...

Hello again!

joel

Just saying hello right back at you gishzida, it's a quiet forum here at the moment but the people are really nice so come back and post soon :-)

Welcome aboard!  We have some fun challengesand you may of course start one of your own. I have found most folks here to be supportive and helpful. 
BJ

Hi, gishzida. Sorry not to have piped in before now, but I've been a bit preoccupied of late. I liked What Price Silence? and look forward to reading some more. Hope you become a regular here. Welcome to the forum.
~jon

I tend to ramble when I get to writing... Sometimes though something hits me over the head and says write me.  Other time it's just a fluke... some one says some thing and it sets me off... into words on a page [or screen] and other times it just oozes up to the surface.

I don't claim to be a great writer [nor do I think I ever will be] nor am I a saint but I am compelled to write... so be it....

"What Price Silence" was the result of a "Flame War" in a USENET news group [a.c.c. which I mentioned in my intro] ... an "infamous" troll was abusing the regulars in the group to the point where you could see the blood leaking from the edges of the screen... in fact to this day they don't mention his name for fear he'll show up again.

I remember the day that I wrote the piece... he had hounded one of the regular writers completely off the group and off the 'Net for a while... I could feel the person's pain... So I was "compelled" to write a reminder: What Price Silence?

On the other hand I've written some pretty strange stuff...  Among those was from a "Sunday afternoon Dream" the result was lyrics to a song called "tuneless tune"... a folk song about a fellow who wandered into a bar that was filled with "second rate" infamous people... It says something about our humaness... and about the spectrum of who and what we are.

I was once accused [twenty years ago? More?] of writing only love songs... regardless of what the subject or the story told... Maybe that's true. What is life but a love song written to Itself?

Here's something I posted over in a.c.c. a few weeks back,,,

** The Quantum Field Equation **

There are some moments
Moments when I feel
feel like I want to be dead
dead to this world
dead to the moment by moment pain

Are these my thoughts? I ask
Do these feelings reflect true desire?
or are they a system call
of the Quantum Processor
in which we live.

Thought-desires blow through
and my mind-body shivers as if touched
by ice slivers that quickly melt
to vaporous drops.

I succeed by failing.

There is no promised land
Nor Jerusalem
Nor Temple
Nor Mosque
Nor Church
Nor Science
Nor Philosophy
Nor political creed
Nor drug
Nor even thing
Whose foundation stone
is not an illusion of truth.

Digitize your visions for a moment
Load and boot a new prophetic dream
listen to the Quantum wavelets
as they lap at the doors
and windows
hear them whispering:

I am.
I am All.
More worlds and realities
than you can even conceive

Yet:

We cannot escape the quantum machine.

You and I.

Nothing more than trapped variables
in Quantum statistical flow

You and I.

simple fool desires
driving us
whispering seductively:

I am free!
I am alive!
I desire!
I Choose!

You and I.

alas

we do not hear
the whisper behind the whisper
the feeling behind the thought:

it is only an illusion...
a puff of quantum foam
An equation held in suspension
showing all of its answers at once

reminding
the useless self
of a relative existence:
a jot when it
should have been dot

Not to worry
the jots come out
in the statistical wash

Were we really looking
for simple truth
the answer to any field equation
is the equation itself

All of the answers of identity
are held there
frozen
in true symbols
held suspended
layer upon layer
answer upon answer
truth upon truth

All of it is true
everything
even the lies
you told last night

All of the multiverse
answers the question
It states the equation:
The answer is the question.
The question is the answer.

Which leads to self referencial questions:

what then is the multiversal equation?

Equations are not the product of
random evolutionary events.

Equations are the product of a mind

This implies:
Some it
wrote it

Who then?

who asked and wrote
it upon the face of the deep?
who asked that we should suffer this?
what kind of It would make
such grandeurs
beside such
petty
ugly
creatures
Such as You and I?

Does It really matter?
Does It care?

The multiversal wave function
does not collapse.
All of its answers are true:
No.
Yes.
Maybe.
Forever.
Never.
Not at all.
Absolutely.

Paradoxical?
Yes!
the multiverse weeps.

Flip flop
register
and stack
push
pop
shift
add
div

The processor is the process
as wavelets
lap upon the random
pulses of the neural threads

The process continues
The answer is sought
to the paradoxical question
all states explored
all truths revealed
all feelings known

But what is the question?

The wavelets giggle softly:

What is the most paradoxical emotion?

Ah!

The jot just became a dot.

©copyright 2007 joel hunter crook / dvusMedia