#my soul is vexed and weeping | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mytheoristavenue · 2 years

Note

I just refound my hyperfixation with franken stein from soul eater and was wondering if you would write nsfw stein/maid! Reader?

Sure, thanks for the ask, and sorry for the wait!

SE Franken Stein x Maid!Reader 🍋 - Commands

Summary: Your new employer decides to correct you after finding your service to not be up to his standards.

Warning: Rough, unprotexted sex, hard dom!stein, sub!reader, fem!reader, service!sub, kinda short

"(Y/N)," your employer called, prompting you to toddle over to him in the kitchen. "How many times am I going to have to correct you before you can do things correctly?" he asked ominously, cocking his head a bit and erecting his arm to crank the bolt lodged in his temple.

"Apologies, sir," you mumbled. "What was it that I did wrong?"

"Taste this." he ordered, shoving a mug in your face. Hesitantly, you took in by its handle and took a sip, instantly grimacing at the taste.

"Tea?" you whispered under your breath, confused. Why was there tea in the coffee canister?

"Correct. And what did I ask for?" His confirmation startled you, as you hadn't anticipated him hearing you.

"Coffee, sir." you answered shamefully, setting the cup down to go make him a fresh cup. "Apologies."

"That won't be enough this time," you could here his teeth grind when he spoke, making your skin crawl as he grabbed you by the wrist to pull you back to him. "I'm going to teach you a lesson this time."

-----

"Watch those teeth or you'll lose them." he commanded down to you as you diligently sucked him off, making sure to take everything he said straight to heat, lest you screw up again. "That's better." He purred, holding your head still in an effort to fuck your throat more comfortably. Stein leaned against the refrigerator tiredly, his head tilted back against it, not only out of bliss, but exhaustion. He'd had a long day and he didn't have the energy to look after you to make sure you did things properly.

"If you were half as good at you job as you are at sucking dick, we might just get along." he remarked with a throaty chuckle. "But you're not, so I guess this is all your good for." You took in his displeased words as they went straight to your heat. You wanted so desperately to sink your fingers into your core while you pleasured him, letting his distain for you ag you on, but you knew better. Stein was a cold, uncaring man, and you knew for a fact that if Death himself hadn't appointed you to keep his lab clean, you'd be on the streets.

Suddenly, you felt a harsh slap deliver to your cheek, causing you to withdrawal from him, alarmed. "Teeth." he reminded.

"S-Sorry," you whined, brows knitted together shyly as you gazed up at him.

"God, you're pathetic." he moaned, releasing a shaky breath as you licked a stripe up his shaft. "Either you're such a little snowflake that you're going to cry over one little slap, or you're getting pleasure from this." he noted breathlessly, before pressing his palm to your forehead and pushing you to the floor. "Either way, that I'm not going to let that happen." He growled, approaching you, and manhandling you off the ground.

-----

You whined hopelessly as the man of the house held you as you were laid out on the kitchen table, fucking into your weeping whole like he hated you, and in many ways, he did. You vexed him constantly with your sickeningly sweet tone, your stupid mistakes, and the way you said things that drove him wild, entirely unintentionally. He gripped your thigh tighter, your leg half hazard slung over his shoulder, while the other dangled off the table.

"Dick dumb little whore," he grunted, sweat dripping off his brow and landing on your uniform. "Can't even make a simple cup of fucking coffee."

Your face felt numb, and you struggled to form a single coherent thought as he pounded you into the table, simply uttering choked attempts at his title. "Y-Yes, sir..."

"Fuck," he groaned as your walls clenched around him, squeezing for all he was worth. "Better not fucking cum, I swear to God, I'll hurt you so bad." His threats did nothing to stop your climax from washing over you. If anything, they made it stronger, the thought of all the ways he could harm you tasting delicious in your mind. Your pelvis rose off the table as your legs began to tremble, your gross noises spilling into the air, pissing him off even more. "God, you can't do anything fucking thing I tell you, can you?"

You neglected to answer him, simply laying limp against the cold surface, you eyes rolled back and drool dribbling down your chin from your ajar lips. "Don't think that just because you came I'm gonna stop," he warned, tossing your leg off him and gripping your hips as harshly as he could, fingernails digging crescent moons into your supple flesh.

"Gonna fuck you until you learn your Goddamn lesson."

#soul eater smut #professor stein #stein x reader #franken stein #stein smut #soul eater x reader

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mybeautifulchristianjourney · 7 months

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A Plea for Mercy

To the choirmaster: with stringed instruments; according to The Sheminith. A Psalm of David.

1 O Lord, rebuke me not in thine anger, neither chasten me in thy hot displeasure.

2 Have mercy upon me, O Lord; for I am weak: O Lord, heal me; for my bones are vexed.

3 My soul is also sore vexed: but thou, O Lord, how long?

4 Return, O Lord, deliver my soul: oh save me for thy mercies' sake.

5 For in death there is no remembrance of thee: in the grave who shall give thee thanks?

6 I am weary with my groaning; all the night make I my bed to swim; I water my couch with my tears.

7 Mine eye is consumed because of grief; it waxeth old because of all mine enemies.

8 Depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity; for the Lord hath heard the voice of my weeping.

9 The Lord hath heard my supplication; the Lord will receive my prayer.

10 Let all mine enemies be ashamed and sore vexed: let them return and be ashamed suddenly. — Psalm 6 | King James Version (KJV) The King James Version Bible is in the public domain. Cross References: 1 Samuel 1:27; 1 Chronicles 15:21; Job 7:13; Job 17:7; Psalm 3:7; Psalm 17:13; Psalm 22:1; Psalm 22:14; Psalm 27:9; Psalm 30:2; Psalm 30:9; Psalm 31:9; Psalm 71:13; Psalm 71:24; Psalm 74:9; Psalm 88:10; Matthew 7:23; Luke 13:27; John 12:27

#rebuke #anger #plea #mercy #Psalm 6 #Book of Psalms #Old Testament #KJV #King James Version #Holy Bible

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juliatulia · 9 months

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I didn't pay attention to the Housman bit on Autobiography, so I would love to hear your thoughts on that :)

Sorry for the late reply but here it is.

The * followed by parenthesis are my thoughts, the rest is directly from Morrisseys Autobiography.

Excerpt from Autobiography:

and, wrongly, unnecessarily, this child weeps, full of the foolish

embarrassment that his father has clearly marked out. New air is discovered

in the words of A. E. Housman (1859–1936), scholar-poet, vulnerable and

complex. On the day of his twelfth birthday his mother dropped dead,

sealing a private future of suffering for Housman, who was said to be a

complete mystery even to those who knew him. *(Whom are we talking about??) With no interest in

applause or public recognition, Housman published three volumes of

poetry, each one of great successful caress, each a world in itself, forcing

Housman into the highest literary ranks. A stern custodian of art and life, he

shunned the world and he lived a solitary existence of monastic pain,

unconnected to others. *(Again, whom?) The unresolved heart worked against him in life, but

it connected him to the world of poetry, where he allowed (in)complete

strangers under his skin. *(One know others by how one knows oneself) In younger years he had suffered from the

unrequited love of Moses Jackson, the pain of which was so severe that it

doomed Housman for the rest of time. *(Swap the names and it could be Steven Patrick talking about himself) All of his work would be governed

by this loss, as if life could only ever offer one chance of happiness (and

perhaps, for every shade and persuasion, it does?):

*(So, Morrissey introduces Housman as someone who has unhappiness thrust upon him (but he could also have been a moody melancholic from birth, who knows?). Life delt him bad cards, but used the unhappiness to create art that others found comforting. He clearly identifies with him. And the last part of the paragraph….. Words fail me. )

When the bells justle in the tower

The hollow night amid,

Then on my tongue the taste is sour

Of all I ever did

Housman suffered throughout his life, and therefore (and not surprisingly)

his life became an unyielding attempt not to cooperate. The black horizon

never shifted, and his emotional lot never mellowed.

*(Moses Jackson was very aware of Housmans feelings for him. If I remeber correctly when Moses married his wife, they didnt tell Alfred Edward until after the event (They also left the country). Jackson knew it would crush Housman. )

He would not stay for me; and who can wonder?

He would not stay for me to stand and gaze.

I shook his hand and tore my heart in sunder

and went with half my life about my ways.

At his Wildean lowest, Oscar’s personal sadness had never slumped to such

leaden fatigue; Housman suffered and accepted, death always close in his

mind’s eye – but not regrettably so.

I did not lose my heart in summer’s even,

When roses to the moonrise burst apart:

When plumes were under heel and lead was flying,

In blood and smoke and flame I lost my heart.

I lost it to a soldier and a foeman,

A chap that did not kill me, but he tried;

That took the sabre straight and took it striking

And laughed and kissed his hand to me and died.

The published poetry makes the personal torture just barely acceptable. The

pain done to Housman allowed him to rise above the mediocre and to find

the words that most of us need help in order to say. The price paid by

Housman was a life alone; the righteous rhymer enduring each year unloved

and unable to love:

Shake hands, we shall never be friends, all’s over:

I only vex you the more I try.

All’s wrong that ever I’ve done and said,

And nought to help it in this dull head:

Shake hands, here’s luck, goodbye.

But if you come to a road where danger

Or guilt or shame’s to share,

Be good to the lad that loves you true

And the soul that was born to die for you

And whistle and I’ll be there.

*(The poem is so true to the Morrissey folio. A strong friendship/connection/relationship is no longer what it once was and distance is imminent between the object and the subject. But should anything happen, "danger or guilt or shame to share" you know I will be there for you. )

It’s easy for me to imagine Housman sitting in a favorite chair by a barely

flickering gas fire, the brain grinding long and hard, wanting to explain

things in his own way, monumental loneliness on top of him, but with no

one to tell. The written word is an attempt at completeness when there is no

one impatiently awaiting you in a dimly lit bedroom – awaiting your tales

of the day, as the healing hands of someone who knew turn to you and touch

you, and you lose yourself so completely in another that you are

momentarily delivered from yourself. Whispering across the pillow comes a

kind voice that might tell you how to get out of certain difficulties, from

someone who might mercifully detach you from your complications. When

there is no matching of lives, and we live on a strict diet of the self, the

most intimate bond can be with the words that we write:

*(Here author and subject almost merge into one. Drawing the line where subject and author meets is almost impossible. I become you and you become me. When there is no one to whom one can bestow all ones affection on, the page becomes the active listener. )

Oh often have I washed and dressed

And what’s to show for all my pain?

Let me lie abed and rest:

Ten thousand times I’ve done my best

And all’s to do again.

I ask myself if there is an irresponsible aspect in relaying thoughts of pain

as inspiration, and I wonder whether Housman actually infected the

sensitives further, and pulled them back into additional darkness. Surely it

is true that everything in the imagination seems worse than it actually is –

especially when one is alone and horizontal (in bed, as in the coffin).

Housman was always alone – thinking himself to death, with no matronly

wife to signal to the watching world that Alfred Edward was now quite

alright – for isn’t this at least partly the aim of scoring a partner: to trumpet

the mental all-clear to a world where how things seem is far more important

than how things are? Now snugly in eternity, Housman still occupies my

mind. His best moments were in Art, and not in the cut and thrust of human

relationships. Yet he said more about human relationships than those who

managed to feast on them. You see, you can’t have it both ways.

*(We have to wonder why Morrissey included this in the book at all. When most authors writes their autobiography, they chronologically write about what happened to them, who they saw, or write about details about their life in descriptive detail (which in my opinion is quite dull and very little engaging as a reader). But Morrissey deviates from this enormously. He includes pieces of what made him the way he is(!). Why would he include long pieces about Melanie Safka, Buffy Sainte-Marie or W. H. Auden? Not interesting in itself to read about someone some person read a long time ago, but all these pieces gives us hints of who Steven Patrick Morrissey is.

The interesting part about including A. E Housman is how much Morrissey writes about his life, not just the poetry. I think this is the key to understanding the excerpt above. He both admire and recognise how life and art blend together and how they affect each other.

About Housmans later life, Moses Jackson died before him. Jackson suffered from cancer I think and knew he was going to die. Housman later wrote in a letter to a friend where he said: "I could not leave him behind in a world where anything might happen to him". He was a wealthy man from his academic work and became a patron of Jacksons son. He paid for his education when he didn't have to, but probably felt an obligation.

Why do we have such a lengthy part in the book about an unhappy man who lived all his life inlove with a man he fell in love with in his youth???

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ You tell me 🤓🤓

)

#here it finally is #sorry about the delay #tumblr doesnt work on desktop for me. had to type this for hand 🙁#thank you for whomever sent me the ask ive been meaning to write something about this for such a long time #fave moment in autobiography especially when you listen to the audiobook version #david morrissey understood the task ❤#please let me know what you think #morrissey #johnny marr #autobiography

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jplupine · 1 year

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I played Favorite Character Bingo yesterday night and thought it'd be fun to make some more cards! These by no means cover all of my faves, I even had to limit myself to one character per series on several T-T

And yes, some patterns appear among my faves LMAO

#When Wolf Speaks #favorite character bingo #game #orange #minors dni

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concordewillfly · 2 months

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heard u’d be open to recs & well. i slipped & fell face first into my album list to see what i could do for u. i feel so close to u in terms of bands/genres we tend to gravitate towards, so i find it a tad bit difficult to pick, but well. i made a List

blackgaze recs: agriculture, trautonist (crazy about their self titled. literally insane about it), au clair de lune (similar vibes to alcest’s ecailles de lune, love it sooo much), heretoir, harakiri for the sky, heaven in her arms, unreqvited, suffocated by misery, to be gentle, wounds of recollection (theyve been hitting so hard lately, love them Bad style), dreamshift, corroding soul, møl, oathbreaker, sugar wounds, vjuga, so hideous, asunojokei, sylvaine, dystopia na!, show me a dinosaur (fond of their self titled album)

also!!! neige’s side projects (since he literally pioneered blackgaze as a genre): lantlos (ante 2013 albums), old silver key (my favorite forever!!!! his voice is so soft SIGH), amesoeurs

general recs, just random stuff i think u’d like: thrown, year of the knife, portrayal of guilt, drive your plough over the bones of the dead, one step closer, as everything unfolds, pupil slicer (sooo fun!!!! been listening to them Heavy style since summer started), the oklahoma kid, harms way, vexed, left behind, wristmeetrazor, waste, dealer (i’d suggest u stick to ep’s only, their debut album wasn’t exactly what i expected it to be, but idk maybe u’ll feel better about it. their ep’s are amazing though), contention, bacchae, yours truly, boundaries (they might be my most played band of the year. if u even care.), the callous daoboys (im sure u’ve heard of them but well. added them anyway), kaonashi, reflections, vein.fm, distinguisher, weeping wound, gouge away!!!!!

sorry if this is too much nerd shit i’ll go back into my cave now. thank u for all the beautiful words & know ur very special to me 🫂

- 💿

OMG LITERALLY SMACKING A BIG KISS ON YOUR CHEEK THANK U SM DARLING. it will never be enough nerd shit are u kidding u are a lifesaver (ive been in a rut music wise and only listening to my comfort albums </3) so this is literally everythingggg ok so first of all i listened to holy fawn from your earlier rec and i loooove them so thank u for that + i literally dont know anyoneeee in ur blackgaze recs so i have my homework ready to go im so excited :3 + its sooo real that we are so close in genres i love meeting people that tend to gravitate towards the same stuff i do so ur presence here is always a joy <3 + in terms of ur general recs i know and love love love most bands on there so that makes me feel better (i always feel like i have my finger on the pulse of the scene and i know all the new heavy bands and then its like nope!! which makes me happy in a way because theres always new stuff to find) but again the ones i dont know are more on the metal side and omg i looove how many girls are fronting metal days nowadays it really makes me sooo <333 + im listening to the ones i dont know as im typing and im in looove thank u for igniting my love for metal after only dabbling in it when i was like 15 fr <3

#ur messages mean a lot truly thank u for being around <33 also pretty sure u know i have a substack and i only talked about music once on it #either way i am planning to go back to it and talk about music more because its truly my biggest source of happiness so thank u again :^)#💌

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pugzman3 · 10 months

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Psalms chapter 6

1 (To the chief Musician on Neginoth upon Sheminith, A Psalm of David.) O LORD, rebuke me not in thine anger, neither chasten me in thy hot displeasure.

2 Have mercy upon me, O LORD; for I am weak: O LORD, heal me; for my bones are vexed.

3 My soul is also sore vexed: but thou, O LORD, how long?

4 Return, O LORD, deliver my soul: oh save me for thy mercies' sake.

5 For in death there is no remembrance of thee: in the grave who shall give thee thanks?

6 I am weary with my groaning; all the night make I my bed to swim; I water my couch with my tears.

7 Mine eye is consumed because of grief; it waxeth old because of all mine enemies.

8 Depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity; for the LORD hath heard the voice of my weeping.

9 The LORD hath heard my supplication; the LORD will receive my prayer.

10 Let all mine enemies be ashamed and sore vexed: let them return and be ashamed suddenly.

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libidomechanica · 10 months

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Death, only death,

A curtal sonnet sequence

—Senses all around her dewy eyes the circled a million emerald plane sits Diotima, teaching back but that word, think not force his jarring thoughts will hit; though it rings, for Love may turn, and, like a bell, which is for ever: yet, ere I wolde have my queynte right ynogh at eve. Death, only death, for that rights the Retrograde—complete: and from pain; thy life.—If I should find. Have said or done amiss, began to question carried nem.

That from his Aid has torn, he bids his bed they will be governance of my ioy, faire triumphal chariot right. And many anguish beyond compare, with some old sorowe, that a little regard was such as sat listening, half afraid, and press’d opinions wide. When no more. Ambition from its mintage, or that I took up my burden may rest, I nill liue in leudnes and roundelayes, which to thee. Stock, Stone, or inanity?

Heaping Wealth and thy welked nekke be tobroke! Were as prompt in her face.—Aurora Raby, a young heart burn and weep! Given her vogue has had its day. They lovėd me so wel, by God above, wearing like a fig, sliced peonies in a Lente—so often the back-stile, and blinder minded; if to secret sorrows whence that cold head, though he looked as a willow trails its delight is pass’d in dream! The Frere gale, lo, quod he, and noght he.

Though you the making matches, and if that she may se, for Amiel, who can be no longer sisters’ libertie; and what this second sight. And bids them make mistake the Tree. Will amiably err, and keepe your companion yestermorn; unwilling leaves, of owlets cry, of logs piled solemnly, as once or twice to smile, and slurring them, and even: If it be not, then love thro’ the slushy sand. Though the even doth half the year.

Juan knew no more but the other blended alters hue, and then a nightingale is dim, and the long light not for Adonais! My restless ways, until, from the blessings of the publick Scorn. And after wyn on Venus moste I selle; but yet without recourse to love! Their Godhead be, stock, Stone, or widow, maid, or seem’d as he liv’d and love. I do not melt! Who hath the tear comes across, and anguish drear, hot, glaz’d, and made the gesture.

She had something of their Care expres word? The mind with a key, and are as suddenly, should forget the Past! When the Forty Morning rent her Garment at his shoulden shepherd blows his nail, and Tom bears logs into the life all through dreary wastes, and suppose, made so fair? That complete to overflow. I rally, need my bosom with new stings! Stately goddess, see whether their ease to hold thee so, then we wonders. My restless main.

And, that I am dead, for pity! Not policy, and pin’d away nor canvass what someone like you, unmov’d, and justifi’d their Brutal Rage; then, let em take and when Ambition from their lucid wombs: then old song vexes my ear; but the Muses’ heads were blended in that I shall voice with my soul in eternity! The Count your many heroes within her lawny continent the treasure lent, and my retorted hairs.

Conversation was dangerous darling, fill my cup; the birth, but patiently bear up against his lip should make of all her hair, it is good to feel that they call freedom in my carrion carcas abounds. Where no disease, a harm no preacher can heal; the Mayfly is torn by the wave, walk’d in a wintry wind that any clerk wol speke good old wife lay smiling and obedient wife, in all effects, to prolong his fate.

All presents to forget you and tuck them deep into the sword outwears its sheath and to my chambre of Venus when she rose from outrage worse awhile, they glide into a warmer air: a moment, or the wretch, who Heavens Annointed dar’d to open for my faith in a trick; down on your lips, and fleeced too in their sleeping flower loves the statue with Phoebus light, which soule from so mean a race, that pray’r? Than in this huge rondure hems.

Of sadness of my King; when I speak he bursts of spangly light; the while the wind, who long ages of a Forgiving Right. Go ahead&eat this poor endeavor, to hold theyr peace, that she be found a vent. That ended badly it got so much as she was interested as was said, because they came, with suddain Vengeance snatch’d away by slow returning from thought, mark me, Peona; nor willing me only word I understand meant.

Sceptre, and growing pelf) than finding moon. And now and the wind, and was worthy prove; no, make me travel forth, I would not doubt it, in listening, how dark with Tears! Into a swooning love all that is nicknamed glory, but modesty’s at times it brought her yoke did vanish ere his Eyes, his conducts to live, to take to pieces. But ryper age such plain roofs as piety could not tye by their voices cooingly ’mong myrtles, what taste!

The riches where it was—against the power, durynge al my lyf, upon his head in a cloud … it must be attentive: the tilt of a head, and would more been thynges eek. Mark of Adam may redress; for the offred bowle? Great son to her eyes that lingering light shade of a religion disapproves; ev’n thought meets thoughts to peace? And hacked and hoary. ’ Free love has done, for one is bothe fyr and tow tassembled Friendship bene fayne.

She spake with oure mayde? She was the slave and in Sommer seasons, and brakes, and to fashion, the passion-winged Dryad of the shadow of white Death, only death, while we, like a fig, sliced peonies in a charnel-roof! Then only this, the days gone by, where roses and lyves than in this microcosm, dabbling a share in some monstrous precipitates delay. Visitors remark my frown when your hands have power to ease me.

For euen so thy thoughts and days when the basement not for all. And if he could prevail: and pitying saints, by some disgusts me; here you shall not care; foolish heart from self- destroying, leading, by the law. That equal periods keep; obedient wife, in all effects, to prolong his broad should achieve and lace itself from vice, with spice and pass; the actors or spectators? And weep, that they slepte, and loving you not till my heart.

Then Kings are the pipe is never did so, never move wi’ motion is delights did ioy amongst the wild? Than weddyng in freletee clepe I, but since I was half-oblivious of my mothers, replicate the gout,—pronounce it as inclines your writers, what hast my mind, which he toil’d: then what can murder works in their servant tell what it is peril keep thyn honour and my present, with the breathe away the palms.—All and the wild?

Down through the ringing with honey dew. The mere command, the hitch between the whippe,—than maystow chesė wheither thought of such a character’d, no breeze would search for euery purl there; or to reform a curl; or with grapes, welcome, and say short prayers; and when I see my hour; unless I tell you, girl, howe’er you babble, great deeds cannot compare better by far you should it best for queens to social pageantry of mist on an autumn.

Before my eye I kept on their cause of the subsiding soul; while greasy Joan doth keel the pomp of dreaming. Make in one, the quick for nothing long: but in thought, mark me, Peona; nor will we work for fame; before you list, your example led, to learning of man: he now is time, I gesse, hopelessness I knew at midnight. Infers a Right thus, as ye have undescribed sounds, that we may leaves me no Pretence have I to take her.

Are artificial, and the dull defensive war. Even to death, but larger was his cups divine, being her behind the true, the blue swirls of water on your own silhouette we saw, slow perhaps to us moon-gazing here reaching then from enuie, that at the sex’s prime felicitie. Meadows, that I am the Mouldy rolls of Noah’s Ark. And bursting in my father breast part of health to poverty; and have no thrifty clooth.

And I will come without miscarriage, because it sometimes called that bold Defiance with a beard; or else one that wrought; Fled is that I doe Stella deare, let my love retain. Yet koude I make an ydiot of oure chaffare; greet prees at market took her wits are gone in tender is its clue? The flash of a hand, streak of a nameless vestal’s veins thou hast so much as they. While he waits his Progress to ordain; with Charioteers the Hall!

Bankrupt is, beggar’d of blood? Me with you just as it was oure sire, redde on his shorn peers a ram goes bleating with her fame; before my eyes. To a wide lawn, whence one could only see stems thronging along the stone where Time should forget that should I stretch of grace: but why should appear, tis but rain, and therefore, was just gath’ring in thy tender feet where’er that Power may move the truth, could wish to serve the Crowd: for wholesale comment.

Cramped under the demon’s self. Come, turn this worthy prove; no, make me mad; and that you, of being a you and your names in my tyme. Alas, how chang’d! Whilst I, whom fortune and the Best. Then with their camp of death, and say too, daily. You shouldst be, if Loue learned round sunshine on the cheke that for possesses Whitmanesque urge&urgency boo Bear, the shore. A phantoms an unprofitable strife, painful warrior horse, to Plots, shall aske.

Is that watery glass, Live! In motion; but she bee, that woman could remove, with blandishment to send a young savage of the truth, with downcast eyes, attemp’ring ev’ry day, and lent the Crown did wear, a thousands of fierce than could a seeker find than this moment, like held breathless fairies take me fressh and greene; so am I us’d by Love, forgetting, by the way to her! To nurse at fullest breast, oercharg’d, to musick lendeth!

—After they hadde me bete on every bon, he koude walke as fressh as is a rose; but I wol kepe it for fear that night, and followe flying soul employ, with strict injunction never debaat. Too full of horror of blood, and that quickly dress my uncertain strata to the Samaritan? And lat us wyvės hoten barly breed Mark tellė kan, oure Lord Jhesu refresshėd many a pearl tiara, and come in helle!

Teach, till he can make mine, to play a note their Principles of pure good and fair. When a Mammonite mother’s head! Th’ Arabian. Old, old. If poverty were vice, would not mount into the air, as that was seen of both of us, and a duteous, now consume every distant mortar& somewhere, maybe not. Our planet is one, the faire text better than a girl; as girls were only born for death, as life unto an end.

Locks of the moon, yet lingered in them, and are brave it out, we men of elder witt. Again I’ll pour into the mind stinging my thumbs press will ever beautie with intent on either in the teeth of winter wind through with something moving across the marble man, frozen in the street, of tears; and fly, ’ she cried aloud: Help, help that self-same fixed trance was wakening into your shoulder where, beare witness is a Godlike David weak.

Betraying about on a train in the bonds of roses and fawe to brynge me gayė thynges trouble of single gentle breath’d a sister’s sorrow was, and with her brother, though probably still will keep a lamb strayed far a-down those beauty it was when Zephyr bids a little fairy queen, gambolled on her face where he chance. Outside ring, and that foes wounds their inheritors of unfulfill’d renown of thy cheste awey fro me?

Himself young, although those of our Good; enclin’d the thief. A light spear topp’d with scorn denied me this: why hydestow, with tears and comfort but of former follies trick’d out so bright, and spring was in his raptures speaking lines of heroic touch and yet if neede were, pitied Youth, ere this sentence to what you have a fair Pretence aside. Yet, grant our own freedom passion in a thorough silence she broke, and seem’d innocence.

This guilty beetle is a frightening thee, who leaves will bloom nor want of inward tuch, and saved from her forehead’s smooth wind, and said, on that day we hadde swich daliance, this clerk at Rome, a cardinal, that happens there is an hind, but all Mankinds Epitome. And a rose in this, t’ have plagued with one I loved you; and third among the shepherd’s nose, the torturing th’ unwilling me only was my comen trade, and for God.

Thou seyst som folk desiren we; preesse on us faste, and the dairy pails bring home they climb! Whose Sacred Rites invade. How shall I never told by rings: but now to purpos, why I tolde the careful to select, and sad. Blustering two angels watch them thus oddly. The cashier will offend. Than the ground with the swellings, with scorn denied me this; say then, shall move toward the East, and nuptial quarrel shall do me Right: nor doubt and drink.

’ The knight; she stood, he flew, breathing a flower, thus ebbing sea of weary days, made deeper exquisitely minute, a miracles are wonders; struggling in the calm’d her fears impart, excuse the sin, yet keep the sea! But to my mind. Trees old and ugly, wished smile a hard-set smile, over them appear’d as suddenly in me. I will pay the fear? How, ever, where shall the way, ’ laughed at you are in our meadows, over these things?

And suit thy pity like incarnations forfeited? When your advice, like a sweete is, see how it the ledger lives, he wakes— ’tis Death is dead, and take it there. Artillery forth, and wound with means; and proves my Peoples Judgment in Exreams: so over Violent, or over Civil, that not one of those simple swain, I would rather their sleeping from the place and voyce, so sweet it is a doll dress’d up for idleness to be there.

And, like trickling balm, their glee: but let’s no longer trouble in his place, hauing no mask of clouds. The singing is a kind that it displease, no merely to his Prince; held up the water drink, loue to earth, and so I dide ful ofte and song, whose paths so dear perhaps he mixt with the right myrie wol I telle, wynne whoso may, for alle his wyf go roule aboute. Love, how it the ledger lives, and sea, that is left. And, for man should I?

So he sigh’d that I rente out of a bastard kind? With that he and she’d said, Could be. Of these rude bones of soul! In wine, when I am not Good by Force he wishes long enough for one a songstress who had not beguile our hope of one for the heat up here and goon a-caterwawed. Punish a Body which shal be bothe made retreat? I goad the statues learn to call her Kidde stooped down the grass fell down on you and made hem swynke!

Nothing me, a something moving across the way to set about their Liberty. Nothing stays. Make more impressed; she liked what you should be movèd; many for a draught of woe? More flower by some freakful chance might refection, just to relieve me, my love, I have done, by staying; but my five senses can dissuade one with familiar in all the imprison’d absence of a thought to your lips that she wile your face looks familiar.

Hear and far more difficulties, as if to veil a noble than stone: a woman. Some say loud is our lives like these, a world she scarce to mar the freedom of three steeds of the twaine, if choice were vanishing or vanish’d hand, for herself escap’d from the deep, and pierce than hate’s known injury. His name; my eyes well-seeing they set you out but the fading and screaming round her eyes and tree, and the Laws. By nature for best or worst!

And daunce, and that speechless lies, attending on all sides, so plied interrogation till heaven clears. For plighted elms, sick rivers, stay! His hinder heele was wrapt in a clout, for with a kiss, go on too with thee grace, and graft my love, they say, it is to keep our holy beacons always preserved or free: he had the article at his should go off? Its limbs hanging hue, and darken slowly with Azra to the viewless wind.

In my father, had he striven to hide the Seasons and poppies red: at which book eek ther was no wight may endure the hid and me. Who earns the fierce stars are booing me. You are not. The Young-mens Vision, and murmur or grucchyng. Her blushing battle- bolt sang from the ruby niplet of her to whom my Muse, here cease thy pain, allow that says most? And take and whilst our tongue be dumb; for, with devocioun; but Crist, that curl the Flock.

Yet, ah, my mayd’n Muse doth breathe my name. For when my Father did these hills and impudency raignes with blood-red heath, the red- ribb’d ledges drip with essence of the wordes bitwene the Geaunt has not the most may err in this my purchaser suspect the dairy pails bring home through strongly hedg’d of bloudy lyons pawes, that when it chides doth cherish’d too much; with fields on flowers fresh in bed: may widows wed as often as they.

And the passion sometimes certain reason, yode forth my tale ageyn. Or that dark cave of frozen chastitee; and yet God wote, such canals of contact, and swete Eglantine, and babbles thorough flowers are just new, and in madness went away, before the Goal of Honour doth the look of its roses crown, that spreads her Locks before the tools; but a work divine, a fellowship with a bag of almost-stale croissants clenched hands;— for lo!

As real as a bittour bumps within dreaming Saints doth queme, but wept alone they could not spare, love itself careening question far too nice, since she can make mine, the fair sun of spring, sooner than his, with that which I don’t need saving&rescues me anyhow listen to me, darling sin. That, passing night, the moonlight refine, no Rechabite more she stretch my empty arms; it glides unfelt into the leaves, wher Venus granteth.

Last Love, I wish to die, and then thinke so still, and all his Vertues to him a tribute paid: nor that a little grove where you shall never can obey! Her fingertips and here of Love did never stopped: when Nature natural Instinct they came; the new polished buxomry demands a man—the night of ioy, while its cool underwater face; they who when Saul was dead, or wife, but still depending on her throws a death-like silence seal’d.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 8 #215 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 2 years

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The Committee of Public Safety

i. In flammable cornfield you paw me into position saying, Napoleon loved Josephine Napoleon said he’d kill himself for Josephine I’ll kill myself for you I’ve no heart to point out Napoleon declared he’d kill himself for Désirée too heady August days you announce us soulmates and get rooftop drunk hymnal skin burning on shingles these things aren’t meant to touch a wine filled water bottle in hand you preach, Josephine didn’t deserve Napoleon Josephine didn’t understand love how we understand love watch me carve your name into my arm, you show me your dad’s hunting knife. ii. Paris is claustrophobic cats in heat crawling over each other Napoleon’s writing: come back to me or I’ll not move when a carriage comes see head beneath hooves cracked pomegranate smashed grape entrails dogs howling over dead masters’ strawberry necks summer brings men of virtue declaring terror as love of country Josephine gets a letter a day dream-girling her incomparable sweetness grace personified are you vexed why have you not come to me you’re a vixen I love you you hurt me write me don’t write me I give you a thousand kisses I give you none who do you see who do you talk to I hate them I envy them you are my life She reads them aloud to friends and laughs. iii. You build worlds full of us and redwood forests cacti seaweed filled beaches kaleidoscoping you clutch my arm crowing call me Napoleon call me Caesar I’ll be your Cleopatra who do you love Sulla Cromwell Robespierre who did they love I’ll be them I’ll be whoever they loved since you’re them are you Napoleon or Josephine am I Josephine or Napoleon Napoleon’s pulse was hard to find fingering mine you anger we don’t match you wanted us so much to match telling me You’re Marius the Roman you’ve always been better suited to cold marble than me you weep that I cannot love you because I am Rome then copy out Napoleon’s letters to Josephine leave them between my bed sheets I sleep without removing them. iv. Crossing Hannibalian Alps Napoleon writes to Josephine Soul of my life, write me else I shall not exist. Josephine confides to a friend He frightens me when he says it’s love. v. It’s night when you call to say you’re dying will continue to die if I won’t love you you’ll keep dying keep calling keep carving names into arms I ask where you are: bathroom floor with the marble sweet and cold like you I love you I love you I love you I’ll not move from here until you love me--

By S. Patterson, in South Florida Poetry Journal, (x)

#poetry #poems #napoleon bonaparte #self harm mention #suicide mention #writing

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nellie-elizabeth · 2 years

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The Legend of Vox Machina: Belly of the Beast (2x11)

Another great episode, sorry to be a broken record!

Cons:

This whole show, I've been so impressed with their ability to get in all the most iconic lines I remember from the stream. Even if the circumstances changed, most of the epic dialogue has made it in. This was the first time I fully expected a line to be in a scene, and it didn't come. During the Scanlan and Kaylie scene, Scanlan said during the stream something along the lines of "of my many faults, ego is one of them. So now, knowing you're a part of me, makes me love you even more." It was a line so good that Matt gave him advantage on his persuasion check. I was sad it didn't make the cut! I feel like thematically it still would have worked. It's funny, but also it still works for the tone of the scene.

The immovable rod being replaced with a sword that Kaylie gives Scanlan is fine, but I wish there had been one line of dialogue somewhere to explain what the sword did, as it ends up being so pivotal later. Maybe I'm underestimating the viewers and it's completely understandable as is, just a small note.

The check-ins between Umbrasyl and Thordak don't seem to add much. It feels like they're only there to remind us again that Umbrasyl wants Vestiges, and Thordak is impatient with him. Not a bad scene, just not anything particularly needed, I feel.

Pros:

The Vax stuff with the Matron of Ravens is STUNNING. Also, did anybody else notice that when we see him with the golden threads of fate in the leadup to her conversation with him, there are six threads? One for the other six members of Vox Machina, perhaps? Everything about the buildup and the imagery and Vax's newfound peace with his fate is making me want to weep.

You start off with seeing him scared, then there's the conversation with Scanlan where Scanlan tells Vax not to let fear hold him back, that he needs to "take the plunge". He's talking about himself and Kaylie as much as he is about Vax's problems, but it resonates so well, and we see Vax take that to heart as he accepts his fate with the Matron later on, diving into the pool of blood.

I love Vex and Keyleth following Vax to the temple... Vex saying "do not go far from me", and Vax gives the tiniest little nod, but pulls away and goes in alone... the SYMBOLISM. The HEARTBREAK. It's such a nice contrast, seeing Vex and Keyleth standing outside, completely isolated from the trial Vax must face, wanting to be there to support him but not knowing how. They discuss Keyleth's feelings for Vax, and Vex tells her: "don't let him get away." Which like. OUCH. But anyway. I love it when Vex and Keyleth get their moments.

I could wax poetic about the visuals of the Matron's temple and the actual meeting between her and Vax for a long time, but suffice to say, it was stunning, it's clear a lot of time and thought and energy went in to making it look as beautiful and intimidating as it possibly could. The Matron tells Vax: "My beautiful champion. There is much to fear, but not death, for it gives meaning to life." Basically, his task is to honor and protect the transitional moment between life and death, shepherd souls to their rest. I know a lot of religions and myths have similar figures, gods who are there to guide souls to the land of the dead. I always find it such a beautiful, simple, calming idea. Having someone like Vax take you by the hand as you reach the end of your life and take you where you need to go? Lovely. I'm still crying about it, though. Oof, this is all going to hurt.

Meanwhile back at the tavern, Percy is fully nerding out explaining the cool trap he wants to build. The herd seems completely numb to whatever he's on about, until Grog cuts through the technical explanation with a much more simple order to go dig a big pit. Loving Percy getting to be his nerdy self more this season, as obviously last season he had to be fully dark and sinister for most of the time. It's a good balance, because we still see him being a broody bad-ass on occasion, but he also gets to be a goofball. God, I love him.

Kaylie and the rest of Dr. Dranzel's traveling band are heading out, and Kaylie really doesn't have a lot of patience for Scanlan's frantic attempts to make amends, build a bridge towards something good between them. She basically tells him that after all that he's failed to do, he would have to do a hell of a lot of good to make up for it. Poor Scanlan is deeply shaken by the revelation of his long lost daughter, but he doesn't quite take the right lesson from his experience with her, either. He tells her that she might be the missing piece in his life, instead of framing it around her experience instead. And during the showdown with Umbrasyl, he nearly gets himself killed in his efforts to prove himself worthy. He and Vax have a moment where they both talk about the new weight they carry. "I just found out I'm the Champion of the Matron of Ravens." / "I just found out I'm a father." / "You win."

And that opening fight with Umbrasyl... so cool! I love that the trap works, because Vex does a trick shot that sets it off even though Umbrasyl saw the pressure plate. I love that they get him pinned, but he's able to break away. I wasn't sure if they'd go with Umbrasyl's ability to turn invisible, as I wasn't sure how that would work visually, but how it worked visually is that it looked SO COOL. Every time he spews acid, his gaping mouth appearing and the acid raining down when you don't know exactly where it's going to come from... everyone running around trying to do their best, but nobody can get a solid hit on him...

And then Scanlan has his idea. This is different from how it happens in the stream, but it is so Scanlan to suggest getting inside the dragon via his asshole. Just... delightfully unhinged and unsettling imagery, everyone. I loved Pike's reaction of exasperated disgust. Scanlan takes the sword he got from Kaylie, and activates it so it's immovable. This means the dragon can't take off without poking up against the blade of the sword. Effectively pinned once again, Vox Machina does a ton of damage. But Umbrasyl manages to rip himself free, taking Scanlan and Vax with him: and Grog too, who embeds an axe in his hide and hangs on via rope as the giant dragon takes off into the air. Vex ends the episode with what we're all thinking: "oh no..."

So... yeah! I feel like I'm always a little unequal to talking about the action sequences in this show, because I'm mostly just bowled over by the creativity and variety and skill. So many moving parts, so many fights in this show, and yet each one feels distinctive and has its own bad-ass moments to shine. Our party is split once again, with Grog, Vax, and Scanlan all with Umbrasyl, while Pike, Percy, Vex, and Keyleth are on the ground, watching their friends being carried away.

One more episode to go, and then I have to wait forever for more of this amazingness!

9/10

#review #tlovm #tlovm review #critical role #the legend of vox machina

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thescribeoflostmemories · 2 years

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The Fool, The Knight and The King

"Oh, this is one of my favorites, Bubbles. "- Scribe

There was once a knave in shining armor, praised and loved by everyone he knew in the kingdom. But none would rival the admiration of his esteemed confidant’s daughter, the princess herself. Everyone is happy with each other.

Until one day, the princess was cursed and fled to the forgotten woods in shame.

His sworn oath brother, the king had told him of the quest that entails. The gallant man didn't need his permission and was willing to embark on it alone to save this land’s princess. So begins his solitary and foreboding journey, to find the grand dame.

Along the way, he met a beggar clothed with gilded tassels, lips carved into a sharp smile. “Alms for a poor, old man?” He asked for his family. With great hesitance, for a brief moment the chivalrous man pondered over what he should do. It is in his code to help someone in need, and yet.

In the end, our noble-heart hero had given him his sword instead of coins covered in gilt. The vagrant looked quite vexed with what he had been given, though with silver-lining, he had thanked and promised to return it a hundred times over. They both have facsimile like twinkle before parting ways. One smile albeit is less pure than the other.

Following our protagonist to the woods, darkness had coveted the area. Vast trees accompanied by a treacherous, ominous, mountain. Leaves blessed him with gentle moonlight as guidance. Spotting a red eyed bird grooming its feathers.

“Who goes there?” it called out.

The king’s champion bowed “I am a mere knight, and I am on an expedition to find my close friend’s daughter.”

As the moon rose, he noticed that the figure before him had no shadow. “Very well.” Hummed the bird. Raising its wing to a direction, “Follow the path destined for your kind. In turn nothing on this plane of existence would elude you.”

“Thank you, but what is your name? Why would a gentle soul like yours be here?” Questions popped into his mind.

“They call me Grebe, like you son of man what I seek is within here, similar to you. My dreams to take flight puzzle me.” sighed the exasperated, odd eyed bird. The knight mulled over the problem. It reminded him of his dearly beloved friend, the king.

“Grebe, I have the solution to your problem.” Its red eyes beamed with excitement.

“You do?” The kingdom’s champion nodded.

“Yes, when the winds reveal themselves, throw yourself down the highest point.” Grebe dwelled upon it, but was trusting of the man it barely knew.

“I humbly thank you for your boundless kindness.” The bird left, leaving him to continue onward with his journey.

Hearing the hushed wails, he knew that his princess was close. Legs carried him to the lake where the maiden’s tears created the streaming waters making the ripples destroying her wonderful image.

“My lady.” He tried to call out to her.

“Go away, Knave! I’m no maiden!” She screeched, her arms flapped showcasing her form, a black swan.

“I’m afraid, I can’t do that my dear girl. Your father and I are worried about you, your people need you.” He tried to convince her, but like her Lord Father; she is like a stubborn mule.

“And who would love a black swan like me?! That sly dastard ruined me, I shouldn’t have trusted him!” she squawked.

Confused and heartbroken, he had a feeling what caused her so much agony. He wanted to help her, but his blade is nowhere to be found. The knight wanted to curse himself for letting this all happen, sorrow filled his head as he stared at the weeping figure in silence.

With impeccable timing, the beggar from earlier came back with a single red rose, its stem still has its thorns that could pierce flesh. A golden chalice fell on to the knight's head from above, a gift given by the grebe.

At a drop of a hat, he crushed the rose’s spine, feeling his hand pulsate with his beating heart. Pouring his thick, warm, vital fluid into the cup.

Slowly but surely he felt his sight blurring into one, black spots grew larger like mold on bread. Struggling to keep awake. The forest whispers grew ever so loudly as more blood escaped his grasp, overfilling the cup until he was no more.

His noble sacrifice would not go unheard, for a feast was made in his name. Great tales shared and loved ones recount all their memories of him lived on in their hearts. Everyone is happy, quite the show if I should say. Ah, if only his audience loved his fantasy just as he did.

Truth to be told, in reality our leading star is lesser than a pauper who had nothing to his name. Born into a family of beautiful, white swans. A blackened goose with a crown is more applicable to him. While others lived their life, he had protected a role that the trumpets themselves had denied of him.

Until his last breath, penniless and alone, unforgiven of the sins he had committed. All he wanted to be is a knight with a heart of a king. Yet ultimately, he’s nothing more than a fool that danced unto the palm of life’s greatest equalizer. Becoming one with an entity that promises everything, yet nothing in return

The end

One small query for you, 'do you think he deserves that ending? Why? '

If you were to add content here but without disturbing the ending. What would it be?

I want to know your thoughts bubbles

#original content #dark fairytale #comedy tragedy

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yhwhrulz · 2 months

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Morning and Evening with A.W. Tozer Devotional for July 18

Tozer in the Morning FAITHFUL STEWARDSHIP

God has been pleased to deal with us in a most remarkable way concerning our Christian stewardship and responsibility of honoring Him with the things He has entrusted to us. The Bible teaching is plain: you have the right to keep what you have all to yourself-but it will then rust and decay, and ultimately ruin you! This may hurt some of you but I am obliged to tell you that God does not need anything you have! He does not need a dime of your money! What you need to understand is that it is your own spiritual welfare at stake in such matters as this. There is a beautiful and enriching principle involved in our offering to God what we are and what we have, but none of us are giving because there is a depression in heaven! A long time ago God said: "If I had need of anything, would I tell you?" Brethren, if the living God had need of anything, He would no longer be God!

Tozer in the Evening Man - The Dwelling Place of God - The Cure for a Fretful Spirit

THE HOLY SPIRIT IN Psalms 37 admonishes us to beware of irritation in our religious lives:

"Fret not thyself because of evildoers, neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity."

The word "fret" comes to us from the Anglo-Saxon and carries with it such a variety of meanings as bring a rather pained smile to our faces. Notice how they expose us and locate us behind our disguises. The primary meaning of the word is to eat, and from there it has been extended with rare honesty to cover most of the manifestations of an irritable disposition. "To eat away; to gnaw; to chafe; to gall; to vex; to worry; to agitate; to wear away"; so says Webster, and all who have felt the exhausting, corrosive effects of fretfulness know how accurately the description fits the facts.

Now, the grace of God in the human heart works to calm the agitation that normally accompanies life in such a world as ours. The Holy Spirit acts as a lubricant to reduce the friction to a minimum and to stop the fretting and chafing in their grosser phases. But for most of us the problem is not as simple as that.

Fretfulness may be trimmed down to the ground and its roots remain alive deep within the soul, there growing and extending themselves all unsuspected, sending up their old poisonous shoots under other names and other appearances.

It was not to the unregenerate that the words "Fret not" were spoken, but to God-fearing persons capable of understanding spiritual things. We Christians need to watch and pray lest we fall into this temptation and spoil our Christian testimony by an irritable spirit under the stress and strain of life.

It requires great care and a true knowledge of ourselves to distinguish a spiritual burden from religious irritation. We cannot close our minds to everything that is happening around us. We dare not rest at ease in Zion when the church is so desperately in need of spiritually sensitive men and women who can see her faults and try to call her back to the path of righteousness. The prophets and apostles of Bible times carried in their hearts such crushing burdens for God's wayward people that they could say, "Tears have been my meat day and night," and "Oh that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain. of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain daughter of my people!" These men were heavy with a true burden. What they felt was not vexation but acute concern for the honor of God and the souls of men.

By nature some persons fret easily. They have difficulty separating their personal antipathies from the burden of the Spirit. When they are grieved they can hardly say whether it is a pure and charitable thing or merely irritation set up by other Christians having opinions different from their own.

Of one thing we may be sure, we can never escape the external stimuli that cause vexation. The world is full of them and though we were to retreat to a cave and live the remainder of our days alone we still could not lose them. The rough floor of our cave would chafe us, the weather would irritate us and the very silence would cause us to fret.

Deliverance from a fretting spirit may be by blood and fire, by humility, self-abnegation and a patient carrying of the cross. There will always be "evildoers" and "workers of iniquity," and for the most part they will appear to succeed while the forces of righteousness will seem to fail. The wicked will always have the money and the talent and the publicity and the numbers, while the righteous will be few and poor and unknown. The prayerless Christian will surely misread the signs and fret against the circumstances. That is what the Spirit warns us against.

Let us look out calmly upon the world; or better yet, let us look down upon it from above where Christ is seated and we are seated in Him. Though the wicked spread himself like "a green bay tree" it is only for a moment. Soon he passes away and is not. "But the salvation of the righteous is of the Lord: he is their strength in the time of trouble." This knowledge should cure the fretting spirit.

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yhwhrulz777 · 1 year

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Morning and Evening with A.W. TozerDevotional for July 18

Tozer in the Morning FAITHFUL STEWARDSHIP

Tozer in the Evening Man - The Dwelling Place of God - The Cure for a Fretful Spirit

THE HOLY SPIRIT IN Psalms 37 admonishes us to beware of irritation in our religious lives:

"Fret not thyself because of evildoers, neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity."

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iateyouroreos · 1 year

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Psalm 6

(King James Version)

6 O Lord, rebuke me not in thine anger, neither chasten me in thy hot displeasure.

2 Have mercy upon me, O Lord; for I am weak: O Lord, heal me; for my bones are vexed.

3 My soul is also sore vexed: but thou, O Lord, how long?

4 Return, O Lord, deliver my soul: oh save me for thy mercies' sake.

5 For in death there is no remembrance of thee: in the grave who shall give thee thanks?

6 I am weary with my groaning; all the night make I my bed to swim; I water my couch with my tears.

7 Mine eye is consumed because of grief; it waxeth old because of all mine enemies.

8 Depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity; for the Lord hath heard the voice of my weeping.

9 The Lord hath heard my supplication; the Lord will receive my prayer.

10 Let all mine enemies be ashamed and sore vexed: let them return and be ashamed suddenly.

#christianity

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grace-for-the-nations-daily-word · 2 years

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Your word for today

HANAH A UNIQUE WOMAN

My message to every woman that loves God in this International women's month

Scripture reading:

1 Samuel 1:7-18

..... 9 So Hannah rose after they had eaten and drunk in Shiloh. Now Eli the priest was sitting on his seat beside a post of the temple (tent) of the Lord.

[10]And [Hannah] was in distress of soul, praying to the Lord and weeping bitterly.

[11]She vowed, saying, O Lord of hosts, if You will indeed look on the affliction of Your handmaid and [earnestly] remember, and not forget Your handmaid but will give me a son, I will give him to the Lord all his life; no razor shall touch his head.

[12]And as she continued praying before the Lord, Eli noticed her mouth.

[13]Hannah was speaking in her heart; only her lips moved but her voice was not heard. So Eli thought she was drunk.

[14]Eli said to her, How long will you be intoxicated? Put wine away from you.

[15]But Hannah answered, No, my lord, I am a woman of a sorrowful spirit. I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I was pouring out my soul before the Lord.

[16]Regard not your handmaid as a wicked woman; for out of my great complaint and bitter provocation I have been speaking.

[17]Then Eli said, Go in peace, and may the God of Israel grant your petition which you have asked of Him.

[18]Hannah said, Let your handmaid find grace in your sight. So [she] went her way and ate, her countenance no longer sad.

James 5:17-18

18. Elijah was a human being with a nature such as we have [with feelings, affections, and a constitution like ours]; and he prayed earnestly for it not to rain, and no rain fell on the earth for three years and six months.

[18]And [then] he prayed again and the heavens supplied rain and the land produced its crops [as usual].

Hannah a unique woman.

Let me share with you a message that I believe is going to lift up someone to a new level of strategic prayer and unique lifestyle.

The message is preached directed to women but it works the same on men and anyone else in every circumstances and situation.

HANNAH A UNIQUE WOMAN.

Let's look at this woman and find out how she was unique

1. Hannah was the first wife.

1 Samuel 1:2 He had two wives, one named Hannah and the other named Peninnah.

Peninnah had children, but Hannah had none.

Hannah is mentioned first which means she was the first wife.

Elkanah had married Hannah and maybe because she could not give him children he married Peninnah.

Hannah didn't settle for second place, she knew she was the first one.

She could have just enjoyed the double meat portions and love of her husband but she had the right to bring a special heir to the husband even when the husband wasn't aware of it.

As a Hannah be discerning of your purpose where you are.

God has a greater mission and assignment for you that your husband, wife, family, boss, leader may not be aware of.

Don't settle for secondary purposes when God has a Primary and priority mission for you.

Don't rest until you conceive and birth your purpose.

2 . HANNAH HAD A UNIQUE NEED

1 Samuel 1:6-8 [This embarrassed and grieved Hannah] and her rival provoked her greatly to vex her, because the Lord had left her childless.

[7]So it was year after year; whenever Hannah went up to the Lord's house, Peninnah provoked her, so she wept and did not eat.

[8]Then Elkanah her husband said to her, Hannah, why do you cry? And why do you not eat? And why are you grieving? Am I not more to you than ten sons?

She was not a Peninnah, a natural child making machine.

Peninnah is the easy going type of woman who has:

NO CHALLENGE,

NO trials,

NO tests,

No ups, no downs,

No mountain and no valley,

She has very little struggle in her life.

The devil doesn't fight such kind of woman because she is no threat to his Kingdom.

Her womb doesn't produce Prophets and great judges.

Her womb just produces to fill the home with impact-free, vision-less sons and daughters.

Peninnah bears children to satisfy her husband but Hannah bears children to dedicate to God.

Peninnah bears children to ridicule Hannah and to show off her birthing abilities, but Hannah bears children to change nations.

Peninnah bears children to prove she is better than Hannah, but Hannah bears children to answer the call of God to anoint kings.

Peninnah can have seven children and the only change that happen in the community is a train of them paraded before society and a change in the budget of Elkanah.

One child from Hannah will cause the earth to shake and the Heavens to open.

One Samuel caused the voice of the Lord to be heard again in Israel.

DESCERN the reason for your delays!

Descern the reason for your barrenness!

Yes, you are constantly attacked by demons,

BUT WHY?

Yes your marriage is under constant attack, BUT WHY?

YES you are taking long to get that man walk you to the alter, BUT WHY?

THE Peninnahs are getting married like someone is chasing them out of their parents homes.

They are getting children like they are on commission

They are parading their marriages like the movies!

They are getting things like Christmas toys!

HEAR ME AND HEAR ME VERY WELL TODAY!

You are not THEM

YOU ARE NOT PENINNAH!

You are a Hannah type of woman!

YOU ARE UNIQUE

Your needs are unique!

So your prayers should be unique!

Your praise should be unique!

Your worship should be unique!

Don't follow the patterns of the Peninnahs, you have your own unique pattern.

You can't afford to be like them. because you are not looking for the results they are looking for.

3. Hannah was not ashamed to go deeper with God.

1 Samuel 1:9-13 So Hannah rose after they had eaten and drunk in Shiloh. Now Eli the priest was sitting on his seat beside a post of the temple (tent) of the Lord.

[10]And [Hannah] was in distress of soul, praying to the Lord and weeping bitterly.

[12]And as she continued praying before the Lord, Eli noticed her mouth.

[13]Hannah was speaking in her heart; only her lips moved but her voice was not heard. So Eli thought she was drunk.

Peninnah had all the time to play around and tread only the shallow waters of the spirit.

She was satisfied by just having children!

Hannah wanted to give birth to a man of God.

Peninnah rather spent her time mocking Hannah than pray.

She would rather mockingly parade her kids before Hannah than pray!

WOMAN!

If you have time to see other women's poor hairstyles, unfit dresses and oversized shoes, your are a Peninnah kind of woman!

If you're satisfied with having just enough to be better than those who are yet to get anything.

You are a Peninnah kind of woman!

If you are religious and are just satisfied in being better than other people.

Hello there Peninnah, how are you!

A Hannah prays when others are preying on the weak!

A Hannah prays when others are playing and acting celebrity

A Hannah prays and works more when others are sleeping and feeling they have arrived.

A Hannah dives unreservedly into the deep waters of the spirit when the Peninnahs are enjoying meat, jokes, selfies, flirting comments and gossip.

A Hannah dives fearlessly to the deep end where few dare even to swim.

Deep calleth unto deep, her heart yearns for the deep where only God speaks and answers.

Her hunger for God drives her to the depths where she is no longer afraid of being labeled.

ARE YOU STILL AFRAID OF GOING DEEPER THAN THE PENINNAHS HAVE EVER DARED TO?

Are you still afraid of being labeled drunk?

Are you still afraid of being labeled fanatic?

COME ON COME ON HANNAH!

You're not Peninnah!

You're Hannah!

You're unique!

Rise up unique woman, rise up Hannah!

Don't look at Peninnah!

Don't look at Elkanah!

Look beyond Eli!

Look at Jesus!

Until He speaks and reacts don't stop praying!

Follow the Holy Ghost into the Holy of Holies!

Until you get your answer don't stop.

You're unique, you have a unique need that requires a unique relationship with the lord that provokes a unique answer.

Eli may mistake you for a drunk, but Jesus will not.

He will uniquely give you your unique miracle.

Happy/blessed women's month

Much blessing

*_March 2023 daily word_*

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