HappyBuddha

This is my application...any and all criticism of all different types would be appreciated, although preferably the tougher criticism as I would like to improve. Yeah, its 2:20 in the morning, does my small amount of accompanying sentences tell that by any chance? [Edit: Okay, I totally thought of a more satisfactory ending to this, and changed the ending slightly. Sorry for any disruption this may cause, but I'm a perfectionist with my poems Revelation I’ve seen this path before Yet it frightens me, as always The terrifying sight of the well-known To take the first step Would be a relief I cannot why? A wrenching feeling that defies translation Slump against a pillar Gaze upon the path with dull eyes Numbly finger this memento ringing my neck Familiar indentation calluses my hand And I remember it stirs beneath my fingers What I have been fades Overcome by what I am The curtain of the everyday is torn I step through onto my own path I move on

Very funny, that woman must have felt verystupid at that moment, if she saw where you were looking On another note, HappyBuddha now remembers why mothers are not a force to be trifled with. All those snarls have his hair standing on end...

Very cute . I like how it feels like its really following you along your progression through the night, especially the middle portions, which do this the most. Its just so out of the ordinary that you can't help but like it. Because of this, I have to express disatisfaction with the last stanze, which seems to try to make a rhyming structure too much - the structure you put in there detracts from the rambling quality of the rest of the poem. You want the entire thing to be free-flowing, and the structure can only inhibit that. Beyond this relatively minor complaint, great work! Good to see you're keeping yourself occupied =)

HappyBuddha does a Peredhil, and refuses to acknowledge X's sarcasm/bitterness, returning his hug and replying with expressions of much thanks for X's flattery As for Yui, of course I believe you - I might not believe Aegon, but I believe you Ayshela: Ach, I honestly didn't mean to have that tone, but reading back through it I can see why you might interpret it as such. My excuses are that a) I'd just tested it on 4 Pen members, and none of them had gotten it fully, so I figured it was pretty tough, By that time it was 2 AM, and I'm hardly coherent at such an hour...oh, and c) I certainly wouldn't have gotten it, if someone else had written it . Meager defense, I know - I'm sorry I came across as such.

HappyBuddha, spotting Rydia, lets out a cry of delight and rushes over to her. "Hey Rydia, long time no see - guess what i've got for you!" Rydia, just finished with putting on her dancing shoes, bounds up and down frantically trying to guess what it is. "A button!" "No" "A zylophone!" "No" "A cart! "No" "A house!" "Errrm, no" "An elephant!" "No, but I do a good elephant impression" "A fairy?" "Nope" *Impatient shift* "A yeti!" "What? Those don't even exist!" "A mell -" "Oh buggerit, its a SHINY!" Rydia squeals with happiness and grabs the enormous shiny that HappyBuddha wips out from behind his back. She runs off with it laughing merrily, sure to cause destruction and chaos wherever she goes.

Waddling in his normal manner, HappyBuddha approaches the Hall while trying not to think about everything he could be eating right now. He consoles himself with the thought that he will be able to sate his appetite with Tzimfemmestein cooking once he enters the Hall, but the encouragement he gains from said thought quickly fades as he remembers what happened the last time he ate her cooking. While musing on the subject of Tzim, HappyBuddha's thoughts naturally drift from her cooking to her underwear fetish and the unusual entrance requirement for tonight. He reaches down and pats the spare loin cloth he brought with him, adjusting the clothesline pin on his nose as he does to prevent any of the horrific smell the loin cloth emanates from reaching his nose. He tries not to notice the small animals falling dead on either side of him as they inhale the slightly green tinted stench, and continues to schlep towards the hall. Melba, recognizing HappyBuddha from afar, decides to take a break right now, partly so that her deputy Captain of the Guards can get some experience, and mostly because she has no wish to handle whatever god-awful undies HappyBuddha must be bringing Finally arriving at the Hall, a tired HappyBuddha butts a horse out of the way and takes its trough over, quenching his thirst by slurping it all up in a second. He then approaches the main hall, pushing the enormous lines aside, and steps up towards the door. He can't help but laugh as he sees the bouncers silently mouth, "Oh sh--" as they see the approaching gargantuan figure who could clearly crush them with its little toe. His laughter quickly turns to constertation as he realizes that there is no way in hell he's going to fit through the door in his current size. Sighing, he casts "Shrink" upon himself, and shrinks down to a more manageable 8' 4". Unfortunately, he forgot to compensate for his clothing, and his gigantic tuxedo starts to fall on the crowd, threatening to crush innocent bystanders. More alarming still is that the still enormous loin cloth threatens to harm the crowd with its odor. Thinking quickly, HappyBuddha casts "Shrink Object" upon his clothing and his tuxedo snaps onto his body, barely missing crushing a terrified huddle of Tzimfemme groupies. HappyBuddha then does what comes naturally, and shoves the loin cloth into the guards hands before striding into the hall. No one bothers asking for identification, they all know who they've seen - and unfortunately for them, who's loin cloth they're handling (Faking HappyBuddha is virtually impossible ). The guards sprint to the underwear depot as fast as they can with the 30 foot high loin cloth, and shove it in there quick as can be, losing only 5 of their number to the stench. Coming back, they realize that Happybuddha completely forgot to shrink his clothesline pin, and they are thus left with the rather beumsing sight of a 25 foot tall clothesline pin lying outside the hall for the rest of the night*. *Later on, one of the more clever guards laid claim to it and went and sold it to the Woodcutters Guild for quite a handsome sum.

Jaquie.............*throaty whisper*No..... *YOU DIDN'T SEE THIS YOU DIDN'T SEE THIS* no.... *YOU DIDN'T SEE THIS YOU DIDN'T SEE THIS* no.... *YOU DIDN'T SEE THIS YOU DIDN'T SEE THIS* no, no, NO! *See what comes of opening up? People close to you get hurt* sniff

Chandler watches the progress of his note around the room, and sees the shifting of the eyes into new orbits. He watches it with an observer's eye, trying to keep it all down after his outburst in the letter. Despite all of this, a certain part of him can't help but feel good after finally doing something useful. Arielle strides over to his desk and lets him know the rumors that have sprung up in response. Chandler looks at her with a calm expression, taking it all in, and Arielle leaves him feeling satisfied that he's on top of it. I wish I could show them *Show them what? What a miserable [Edited]up you are? You really are hopeless aren't you* You know what, [Edited] you - I may not be able to show them, but I can show you. Chandler rips out another piece of paper and scribbles at his frantic pace, incorporating the conversations, outbursts, and rumors swirling around the room into the note as he works. When he's finished, he passes his note around to the rest of the room as before - it addresses Matthew's arguments, but its clearly meant for other eyes as well. M - "Well, sure, he doesn't hurt anyone. But he isn't himself when he's on drugs. Everybody knows that. And it doesn't excuse anything. You have to take responsibility. We're young adults here." C - I have nothing to be responsible for. And does everyone really know that I'm not myself when I'm on drugs? How funny, considering that by your own admission "I've never actually seen you shoot up either." Whereas friends close to me who have seen me do that stuff have told me the exact opposite. Some things strike to the core, and hold firm no matter what you do - for you its your faith, for me its my Pledge. I would have thought that you of all people would recognize that. M - "Well, sure, I've never seen you beat up anyone. I've never actually seen you shoot up either. Doesn't mean you didn't do it. And Meat wouldn't let you in his crew, uh, gang." C - "I've never seen you commit a murder, but that doesn't mean you haven't done one" also works by this logic. You know I indulge in certain substances because its pretty apparent - there's no such apparentness with my hurting someone. As for Meat's "gang", I think you're sadly mistaken - not only do you not have any proof for your assertations, but I do; go ask Meat about whether or not I've ever hurt anyone or tried to join his gang. He'll tell you what I've asserted all along - I'm essentially a pansy and won't hurt anyone, although he's teased me about it many a time. M - "And not coming to school while high? Yeah, we believe that." C - Your belief is immaterial to the truth of the matter. I'm sorry that you don't seem willing to give me the benefit of the doubt and look beyond my flaws; I was rather hoping that you would be a strong supporter of my cause and be willing to forgive...your unusual lack of Christian forgiveness is actually kind of suspicious in itself - I've mostly defended myself, only hesitantly throwing a finger, but you who we would expect to be the most unwilling to condemn have instead been the loudest and most visible finger-pointer of all. M - "And not having enough time? You could have arrived way early, waited, beat up Joe and still arrive 'late'." C - Well, everyone else could have arrived way early, beat him up, then arrived at class on time. If I showed up way early, there's no reason for me to be late. Furthermore, the real culprit would hardly arouse suspicions by showing up late at a leisurely pace - he'd try hard to get to class early. I've shown up late many times before, this is hardly something new. Finally, showing up way early and beating him doesn't really work, since the kid only finally collapsed just as the bell rang - the kid would've been spotted staggering around the halls at the very least if it had been way early and he would have passed out long before then as well, not have lingered until the bell rang. No, it was definitely a rush job not long before the bell rang. M - "Hate the sin, not the sinner. What they do, not the past that they can't control because they weren't even born yet." C - Your willingness to preach this while condemning me off hand wihtout providing any concrete evidence to back up your opinions is what seals it for me. You hardly are forgiving of my past, and while I respect your faith I don't respect your ability to say one thing and do the other. Highly suspicious behavior, and certainly enough to paint you as guilty in my eyes, much more so than Bina ever was. Grandpa would be proud of me anyways - I doubt he would of liked my disapproving of the foreigner, considering how much he went through when he came over here with Dad, fleeing the Nazis... OOC: Change my vote to Vahktang/Matthew

Chandler sees the eyes around the room concentrated on him, many of them glaring at him, and feels the impulse - almost instinctive by now - to shrink from negative attention, to retreat and give the finger to the rest of the world. {no. not now. do you want to be thought of as a bully, as a hurter?} Mangled. Funny red paint splattered on the wall, daddy's body decorating the room in a whole new manner. A man standing above him, panting. Notices me. Try to run, big arms clamp down. Raises his arms, shriek, he freezes - lower them, down to his side, breathe heavily. Face down to my level, I can smell the stuff on his breath and the scary thing is there's none of it, there's nothing. He's cold sober, like daddy never was, and yet he did so much more so much more so much more...and now he's yelling at me and he's saying words that I don't hear until later "YOU DIDN'T SEE THIS" and he tosses his crowbar aside and lunges at me and screams it some more and I shut it out, for the first (but certainly not the last) time I fold into myself and blank it all out... Pull yourself together Chandler. Do something strong for once. Be the strong person that that man didn't want you to be, let it out - he tricked you into keeping it in, now outsmart him, show him that he didn't yell loud enough to knock you out. Do it for Him Snapping out of his reverie, Chandler begins furiously scribbling on a piece of paper, occasionally crossing out words that are simply illegible but otherwise letting his fevered pace of mind communicate itself in the messiness of his words. When he's done he passes it around to the class, and it quickly makes its way into the hands of everyone... It reads: "I don't hurt, and the idea that so many suspect me of hurting someone else wounds me deeply, but I guess its understandable, if a little upsetting. I want you to know this however; I don't hurt, under any condition, under any circumstance, under any motivation - I don't care, I don't hurt. If you want to know why, then lemme know personally - I don't feel comfortable explaining something so intensely personal to such a broad audience, but in a more private setting I'd be fine with explaining it on an individual basis. Now some of you obviously have the impression that I do in fact hurt, to which I ask the basic question: Have you ever seen me do so? Have you ever seen me take part in Meat's bullying, have you ever seen me actually assault someone? No, none of you have, and I know that for a fact. Some of you may think that certain substances I use might break that prohibition, but I gurantee you that's not true - first off, none of you have seen me do even the most basic bullying while I'm not in my right mind. Secondly, I never come to school under the influence - not because of a moral stance, its simply too risky. I might not have worked off all the side effects, but I never come to school under the influence, and you can confirm that with Jaquie or Meat if you don't believe me. Finally, I arrived at school way too late for me to have bullied the kid - Joe exited the classroom right before the bell rung, and heard Rupert's call for help immediately after. Considering that I arrived in class very late because I walked the whole way, I couldn't have even been here when all this happened. I'm the least guilty of any of you, because all of you were on campus when the deed happened. None of you saw me about campus before the bell rang, so you all can be sure that I did in fact arrive late, and thus escape any blame whatsoever. This freshman was still standing just before the bell rang - I would look more among yourselves. I may not even be right with my vote for Bina, I simply went with the person that I had some sort of justification for suspicion (her arrival ushered in the bullying, thus reason for suspicion)." OOC: I'll edit this later and add more, if I find the time. This is pretty good for now.

Chandler lounged about the room, flitting from group to group, pretending to listen but in fact wrapped in his own thoughts (and sneaking glances at Rich that he wouldn't even admit to himself) Why the [Edited] would anyone pick on that poor freshman? Jesus, that wasn't an act of random violence or anything - you've gotta be cold sober to screw a kid up that bad. I mean, when I've watched Meat and his crew do their thing while wacked up, they can't even hit the kids... Oh crap, where the [Edited]was that stuff I had this morning from? Did I...? No, it couldn't be me - even when I'm out of my mind on that stuff, Caroline told me I never actually hurt a thing. *Inner grin - Caroline called you a pussy for that, since you could never rob anyone who stood up to you since you refused to hurt them* Yeah well [Edited] her, the Pledge is too strong to be broken by her, by the drugs, or by anything. [Edited] with my mind they may, but they'll never reach my heart... {Too bad, you might forget about Him if they did...} nodon'tthinkaboutHimgoawayrunawayhelpclampitdownmusn'tescapethoughtitwasgonepleaseleavemeerasenonononono- Jaquieneedshelpwhat? Helpfocussaveher. Coming forth from his reverie, he became aware of her fury and said, "What is it?" She's going on a tirade oh [Edited], I should have been there for her, think of her Chandler, not yourself. You go out and pamper yourself every night, and now you're not helping a friend in need? {What kind of monster [am I/are you]?} (Shake her shoulders)goaway!(Shout her name)Itsnotlikethat!(She's done, yet I keep on shaking) *Be gentle you oaf* Release. Shake my head, try to chase the demons away. Put my arm on her shoulder, give it a squeeze. Start to write her a note, stop - she can't read it, of course. Those stupid [Edited]s, thinking she'd do it. Its not that she couldn't - she's right, that bloody hearing of hers is off the charts. But...she wouldn't do it, right? No, she's always opposed the bullies, not been one of them. But who then? What about that German chic, Frau Jamhausen or some such - she's kind a creeping me out with her silence and distance - Its not really a Walter-sort-of-silence. Not to be a xenophobe or anything, but this stuff only started when she arrived...yeah, thats pretty good proof if there ever was any. *So quick to condemn others, eh?* Hey, didn't I already tell you to stuff it? I thought as much OOC: {} = Thoughts from way deep down, so deep they're only really felt, not heard, and thus a bit of them is lost in the translation from emotion to words. Oh, and a vote for Jammeez - Bina Jamhausen. I've just got a nasty feeling from that direction, and I'm inclined to trust Jaquie's judgement as is (although I actually did come to Jammeez independently - was quite suprised to see Jaquie think the same thing )

Wake up. Back alley, don't remember it. No suprise there. Assorted [Edited] strewn about me. Woah, some of this stuff is definitely not mine. [Edited]. Better not ask, hope it goes away. *Yeah Chandler, that worked famously in the past...* Hey, shut the [Edited] up you. I didn't know what was going on then, all all right? Maybe if someone had told me what was happening, things would have turned out differently. Besides, I probably stole this stuff from an innocent, the type who is too scared to come hunt me down for revenge. Don't worry about it. Heh, I wish this hangover would go away...gonna be a pain all day Man, what time is it? [Edited], I gotta go to class! Chandler arrives at school a little after the bell rings, sauntering as usual - he cares very little what time he arrives. If he's already getting a tardy then there's no reason to care, as far as he's concerned. There's always the chance he can escape detection, however... Chandler slipped into the room very carefully, closing the door softly. The teacher hadn't noticed yet, good. He didn't bother waving or anything to Jaquie, she wouldn't see it. He notices Laurie's dazed expression and (grinning to the class with a look that says, "Keep quiet!") he creeps up on the dazed girl (not hard to do, she's hardly noticing anything) and whispers, "Wake up little Laurie, the days just begun," right before he pinches her side, grinning all the time. Taken off guard, she yelps, and the entire class laughs. Chandler grins, glad for the recognition (Although he feels a pang as he notices Jaquie's confusion at the laughter, the source of which she has not the slightest clue), but his happiness is short lived as the teacher also hears Laurie's outburst and is quick to seize upon the source of all the commotion. [Edited] "Aah, Mr. Achtobowski, how nice of you to join us in such a fashion," he says sarcastically, filling out a tardy slip as he did so, "I hope you will quit your pursuit of the opposite sex and instead take a seat, as I will otherwise be forced to file you even more demerits, something you can ill afford." Chandler sighs, and pulls up a seat next Jaquie. "Why'd ya take a front row seat for crissake? You know I hate front-row seats!" Jaquie ignores him, and instead asks, "And exactly where were you? I've been waiting for you, and its kind of uncomfortable with all these pitiers around me." He starts to shoot her a look, realizes she won't see it, and instead says, "I don't know where I was, I woke up with some firearms, drugs, and broken bottles around me, okay? I've got a hangover and I'm pissed at that snotface teacher." Pulling himself out of it, he grins and says, "And how are you, my dear?"

Katz: I would say that line is intended to signal that this person has overdosed before - but the line "I've never needed so many faeries" signals that this time s/he is doing more pills than s/he has ever done before. Merelas: While the language was consciously drawn from the last supper in order to alert readers to the religious imagery and its implactions, I never thought of this being an actual last supper - but now that you brought it up I do indeed like ! Before I hadn't seen the subject as actually dying, but upon reconsidering it does seem to fit better - all I'd need to do is adjust the last two lines, probably to something such as: leaving a bitter taste and an empty soul

I think I might be friends with Katz - I'm such a [you-know-what]up that she wouldn't think I pity her (at least, thats how I would put the logic), and oddly enough I like her, despite the fact that she messes with the bully, who I'm also distant sorta friends with, in that we often share our drugs... I guess I'd know the techie guy, since thats one of the few afterschool activities I do, because the Stagecraft teacher recruited me into it. I'd know him, but I probably wouldn't be his close friend. Anyone who's a secret stoner (the kind you wouldn't suspect) probably knows me too - PM me if thats your slant.

The responses to this poem were very interesting, and exceeded my expectations in many ways. Katz did very well in recognizing the religious symbolism/language that is woven throughout the poem, but she failed to make the connection to pills which Merelas made. Speaking of which, Merelas did well in spotting that they were pills, but he's too optimistic in assuming its a disease . Wyvern is absolutely right in stressing the title's connection to the "faeries" - the faeries are supposed to be pills. Katz definitely hit the closest, but because she missed the physical realm that was also dealt with, she wasn't able to weave the two together, the intended course of the poem. This poem is about an overdose - thus the "personal tragedy" that prompted this poem (A friend overdosed...). The spiritual metaphor is meant to put a slightly spiritual tone on the act of overdosing, to aptly describe what the subject wants in overdosing; namingly, absolution from the pains that he/she has endured. I think spotting the religious metaphor is easier if you're Catholic (or have been raised Catholic, or at least gone to Catholic school or some such), because a lot of the language feels like the stuff that was emphasized when I was doing all of that ("host", etc.) The subject's desire to take the pills is almost spiritual, and I made the language purposefully so to emphasize the quasi-spiritual nature of the act. The point of the poem is that the subject does not get the intended reconciliation and healing, but rather a disturbing hollowness inside and a painful taste. The emptiness in the soul is the conclusion of the religious metaphor, showing how pills won't erase your pain, only destroy your being. Another sub-topic dealt with is the subject's resolve; the language of the main stanzas is pretty confident, with nothing but silent anticipation noted. The second italicized line is what really belies the subject's feelings, however; "this cup wants to shake out of my hands" is meant to a) betray how the subject is in fact nervous about this, but won't admit it to him/herself, and show how the subject transfers the blame to the cup, trying to censure his/her own actions. That's pretty much all, feel free to give me a whatever level response you want to this explanation!

I'll play the part of Chandler Achtobowski, the guy who sits in the back of the room and doesn't even try to avoid getting caught for not doing his homework, because he never does his homework for any classes (except on special occasions), and the teachers all know it. I'm a burnout, in essence - I take Stagecraft, smoke some pot, do the normal routine for the most part. But I do have some redeeming features - I'm more knowledgable than a first glance would indicate; my knowledge is random, cultural tidbits and historical info on random places, knowledge of a particular poet, the marks of a kid who had potential but because of past hurts wasn't able to exercise it...I've got some suprises in my personality that may be played out in the drama to come... I'm attracted to that cute guy in the the left-back corner of Pre-Calculus, but I only kinda admit that to myself, and compensate for it by harassing the girls extra...

Last line should be (in my humble and prob'ly mistaken opinion): now they are frozen, like the passion he forgot to include

Medication pretty little faeries, blue and white I slip them out of their jaded bottle and they slide across the counter blank faces silhouetted against my hungry eyes It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten of this flesh they wait impatiently as I find a cup, longing to forgive my trespasses the glass is heavy now, but not as heavy as they are I’ve never needed so many faeries Concentrate – this cup wants to shake out of my hands they answer my prayers, the host is washed down my throat leaves a bitter taste behind an emptiness where my soul was [Author's Note: This poem is quite a bit more complex than the normal Pen poem - not necessarily better, just more complex. I would advise re-reading it, and seeing if any of the language seems familiar. I would highly encourage discussion on this thread to try to find the topic...in a few days I'll explain it in great detail. I think it would be really cool to get a group discussion of sorts on this, because discussion is definitely needed to unlock this poem's message or even make a good guess at it. To those who I discussed this poem with on IRC: Mum's the word, but feel free to drop hints. Just think of this as a contest, one that tests you're poem-deciphering rather than your poem-composing abilities! Edit: Oops! Those lines were supposed to be italicized, not underlined. I'm such a goof

[Emphasis Added] Intensely (whats not these days Communal Emotion follow the leader lemmings) personal Yeah yeah, I know I've always maintained on IRC that I'd never do poetry...this came out of nowhere, really, but worked too well not to put up. Try to explore every word, and all the possible meanings - chances are I considered most of them

HappyBuddha ducks in and sends Happiness Rays in Tanny's direction - he's good at that sort of stuff * *Do not, under any circumstances, believe his lies that he's good at playing the guitar, being a gigolo, etc. He's not, trust us. Who are we? Err, gotta go!

...HappyBuddha, who happened to drop by just in time for a game of Nimball! Although in truth, it has become more of a game of HappyBuddha for the Nimball, which is delighted to find the gargantuan bulk of HappyBuddha in it's hands*. The Nimball remains passive for a couple of seconds, entertained by the spectacle of HappyBuddha shaking the earth as he flees, causing the mass of pursuers to fall down, unable to keep up. Then it grows bored.... HappyBuddha was on top of the world - hehadtheNimballohcraprunI'montopyay! - but suddenly he was confronted with the unlikely spectacle of something .stopping him! He looked down, only to see his gargantuan bulk hung up on the small, but very destructive Nimball. The Nimball paused to enjoy HappyBuddha's utterly bewildered look, then rockets back in the direction they came from, dragging the gargantuan bulk of HappyBuddha along with it. They fly backward, HappyBuddha gasping for air, and then part of Buddha's blubber touches the ground, causing a nasty rent to be dragged behind his flying bulk. Soon enough they crash into the Pen members, who had just regained their feet too. The Nimball, giddy with glee at it's use of HappyBuddha as a bowling ball against the Pen member pins, ducks out from beneath the bulk of HappyBuddha and flies off. It forgets to look at where it's going, unfortunately, and lands right in the hands of... * Technically the Nimball was in Happy's hands, but to the Nimball, it's all a matter of perception.

Poor Kendricke, he catches so much flak for that U...I sometimes spell humor "humour", just to bugger him

Happy Birthday from HappyBuddha Degster! And many more (hopefully)!

You know, I heard IBM hired Terry Gilliam to make training videos for them just a little while ago - makes me want to be an IBM employee .

Perry, if you use the new Legion boards, yeah, you won't be able to find stuff, but if you switch back to the old you can search the forums for all the old junk - it's still there, trust me, once in a blue moon I go back and get nostalgic in there . (Oh yeah, heya Madoka-san - already said hi on Legion boards, but two heyas are better than one!) Got Link? Errr, not really...Like Kendricke said, there's a LOT of old junk to wade through if you wish to find some of Madoka's old stuff. But there is the "Search" function on the old style, which I think would help. Then again, thoughts and logic don't always go hand in hand in my head

Happy Birthday Jakob! Hope this is the best one ever! HappyBuddha pauses for a second, as if holding an internal debate, and then turns and with a mischevious smile says, "You're an oooooold man, heehee!" He then runs before Jakob finds an appropriate object to toss at him