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eldritch-flower · 1 year

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An unfinished sci-fi/cosmic horror writing exercise (based on a prompt that i can no longer find)

There is something in my father’s fields.

It looms above the rows of corn on bellicose stilts, a quadruped of unfathomable stature with what I have taken to be legs that stretched up, up, up. A monolith of nauseating spires and squirming growths that slop and wring about each other like a pot of eels. I cannot see it’s body, reader, nor can I begin to conceive the sheer monstrous size of it. I simply know this: That it is always night-time here on the farmstead. And that there is no longer a moon.

The parasitic epiphytes that wind their slobbering tendrils up the pitch slants of the mountainous thing’s jaundiced flank, they shriek sometimes in the wind. I think rather that they are sliding down the side of the colossus, seeking to colonise my father’s land with their jaundiced, municipal thrashing. They sound to me nothing of this green Earth, their teeming yowls vociferous and gushing like liquid, and their screams are constant. I have not dared sleep since their host planted its vast self in our fertile soils, and I feel that had I the confidence to attempt it I would find myself unable to drift off in fear of those pulsating slugs. Each day, their wails grow louder, and I am almost certain that they are searching for something. The manner in which they appear to leach forever Hell-ward is pseudopodian, and each glance out the drawing-room window draws further terror into me still.

What do they want, dear reader? I cannot decide, and yet surely there is something. I can feel it, as I suppose a bird must sense the trembling of the wind afore the coming storm. Even now, should I dare draw back the curtains, I am assured to see them hunting in their own riotous way. I think perhaps the deformity of nature upon which the limbless, chattering atrocities drone is simply a vessel for their kind; an eclipsing stealer of light bent to the will of those inky, protoplasmic jellies.

It appeared four nights ago – or so I should assume. I rose to no dawn chorus some many hours ago, for there had been no dawn. I do not think there are any birds here on the farmstead anymore. But I have watched the hands of my father’s grandfather clock, and stared into the churning cogs of that analogue machine for seven-and-a-half cycles, and still the thing has remained. Reader, I must confess that I do not even live here on the farm, and that I am simply a form of parasite myself on my father – my intents are far from those of a casual symbiont, and I had drafted his help only to garner money from the man. And yet now I find myself too frightful to leave, lest the slippery blasphemes that plague the dark ariels outside chance upon my being.

Even as I write this, they slide further down those quiescent slopes like a slurry of sentient tar. What do they want, I ask once more? Again, I find myself without an answer.

On the second day – or what I perceive to have been, shivering in the darkness of my dwelling – one of my father’s hounds went missing. Earlier I found it again. What was left of the poor creature was an undigested perversion, jaw dislocated and tongue slapped to the ground, stuck there like glue. The head was what remained, reader. Scalped and hideously rugose as though it was age that had worn the animal away: But I have seen the corpses exhumed at the University, and the likes of ten decades would not be suitable to account for the state in which the dog was left. Decay arrives first at the soft parts of the flesh, and yet the faithful creature’s eyeballs still remained. They were wide and blank, and even now I can see them when I close my eyes and recall the snapshot of horror, of suffering, that were petrified in the fattened pupils.

I have my suspicions on what became young Floss, and I hope never to recount the same fate myself. Such is why I shan’t step a foot outside my father’s building. I fear that it is the farmstead and it’s red-brick walls that have preserved me for so long in the presence of the foulness that races unabridged within the corn fields.

I have formulated the hypothesis that the sluggish growths are sentient, and their yammering is but a form of communication too Archaean, or perhaps other-worldly, for myself to understand. That they came from the deep throes of space is almost unthinkable, and yet I cannot comprehend another explanation for their sudden appearance and rapid defenestration of my surroundings. Did I mention, dear reader, that the earth is charring? For it is indeed doing so. Blackened to soot, a spreading mycelium of rot and amorphous cancer. The contagion has not yet extended it’s sickly fingers past the borders of the corn rows, but I feel that soon it shall. Perhaps the malignant beings are prevented from travelling beyond what their blight has touched. I do not think so, for I cannot think otherwise how they might have retrieved the dog as their prize – my father’s hounds are trained not to wander into his fields. But I cannot put my mind at ease without considering every option, no matter how neo-parsimonious they may seem.

Often, I find myself longing to leave my lodgings. I wish to step into that field and stare into the unending pit of nothing that has stolen the moon from the sky, and I wish to scream. Reader, I simply want to see the light again. I long for summer days, and summer nights, and my resentment for the farmstead’s visitors is quickly growing to unease.

That's all I managed to get down in the 45 minutes I gave myself! I ended up writing just under 1000 words. It's not awful, it's not amazing... I kind of just wanted to hone the whole 'first person' and 'lovecraftian prose' abilities haha! Let me know what you think, constructivie criticism is appreciated etc etc! And If there's any other cool prompts you find, send them my way through an ask or DM me or something :)

#creative writing #writeblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #writers #wip #short story #flash fiction #horror #lovecraftian horror #cosmic horror #writing prompt #writing ideas

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leftnotright · 10 months

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PROOF APOLLO WEARS HAWAIIAN SHIRTS

“The Tri-Ni-Sette machine is failing. The world will die.” “We can’t do anything going forward. Going backwards, however, is another matter.” Ryohei had his mission: To go back. To before the most recent Arcobaleno Curse, to before the slaughter of the Simone. To before the Tri-Ni-Sette System finally gave out. Ryohei was used to loss, in the ring and in life. But this time, he promises, he’ll win. Reborn had his mission: Get in this man’s pants, or die trying. After all, Reborn was nothing if not an Icarus.

(Or: The ‘size matters’ fic)

Parings: Reborn/Sasagawa Ryohei Characters: Reborn (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Ten Years Later Sasagawa Ryouhei, Sasagawa Ryouhei, Vindice (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Arcobaleno (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Checker Face | Kawahira Tags: Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ryouhei Time Travels

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

CHAPTER 8: YOU'RE SO GOLDEN

The Simone Islands were hot and just a little bit humid.

Sand peppered the cracks in between the bricks and stones of the paths. A windmill groaned on the horizon on the east side of town. A fountain bubbled in the centre of the square, a sandstone plaque engraved with the name ‘Cozzarto’ .

A gaggle of girls giggled as they walked past, wrapped in pretty dresses of bright reds and pastels. A team of young men worked to heave crates and sacks onto a cart bound for the Simone docks. An elderly couple walked arm in arm, skin dotted with age and sun, faces creased with laughter lines.

The Simone Islands were hot and just a bit humid. The Simone Islands were alive.

Ryohei took in a breath, smelling that bay air and freshly tilled soil up on the hills.

“How are you liking the place?” A man asked, joining Ryohei at his side, fountain spray touching their cheeks.

Hair a blazing red, and pupils crossed with the stigma of Simone, Abramo, the grandfather of a boy who would be Enma, smiled at Ryohei. His jaw was speckled with stubble that he scratched at with only four fingers; his middle finger lost in an incident at the mill. His mother, rest her soul, said it was redemption for using it so much to offend people.

“It’s great,” Ryohei said, voice almost light with awe.

“Ain’t we just!” Abramo agreed, and gave Ryohei a solid pat on the back. “From our women to our wine, you’ll never find anything quite like us!”

The last time Ryohei had set foot on this land, he had never even reached the town. Far down in the thicket, the Simone Islands had been hauntingly quiet.

The thought that all this was washed away. In a single night. Right in front of the young eyes of Enma’s Family—

Ryohei looked at the grimm shape that hung above the ground like a man from a noose.

“Ah, of course,” Abramo turned and looked upon that shade. “Allow me to introduce Basker Ville, our local lurker. Not much of a talker, let me tell you.”

Basker Ville, the Vindice guard, which haunted the mountains and shores of the Simone Islands. Ryohei had never heard of him before, one of the many wrangled bodies in those damp halls. Now, the first line of defence against the complete undoing of everything.

Ryohei gave his new brother-in-arms a smile.

Basker gave a low groan that sounded like something heavy dragged across stone.

“Ryohei,” Abramo said, throwing his arm around Ryohei’s shoulders. “I hear you’ve been moved into the Vindice’s new base down in the old quarry. I’ve been there; bit of a creeping damp problem. If you ever need a break, come hang out with us up here!”

Abramo was trying to be welcoming, and set an example for the rest of the island, which watched on with bated breath and careful eyes. They weren’t used to outsiders after centuries of exile. And so many had come. Ryohei, even after three days now, was merely the most recent of the swathe of folk to the island.

Like Abramo had said, almost overnight, a deep, cavernous hole had been bored into the walls of the vacant quarry. With skill and speed befitting the corpses of history’s Best, a base had been constructed out of the layers of cracked stone and calcified coral. The Vindice had made their home under the feet of the Simone.

The island was shaken, to have the Wardens beneath their floorboards.

Most of them didn’t even know why.

Only the main branch of the Simone had been told by Bermuda personally. From there, it was up to the Family’s discretion who on the island needed to know.

“Thanks!” Ryohei smiled, and without hesitation, threw a reciprocal arm over Abramo’s shoulder as well. “Hey, do you know anywhere good to eat around here? The Vindice aren’t big on meals. Ghouls and all. No offence.”

Basker Ville grunted, bandaged face completely unmoved.

Abramo grinned.

“My good man, let me introduce to you the wonders of Simone-style cuisine.”

Maybe it was the weird herbs that grew on the island, maybe it was the centuries as a closed community, or maybe it was the adventurous palletes of people who were so in tune with the earth they walked upon, but Ryohei had never seen these kinds of variations before.

The Simone did beautiful things to a steak. Their minestrone had an almost minty sting at the end. Their rosemary tarts were kind of spicy.

‘Flash pickled’ was an entire range of goods, and compared to traditional pickling, it had a distinctly warmer undertone. Depending on the intensity, it could almost taste smoked.

There was this specific rock that when boiled in sugar and a particular root made the sugar change colour and pop in your mouth. They had more kinds of beer in a single space than seemed anyway safe, and dear God, their wine.

Ryohei happily kicked his feet under the table as he ate his nth meal of the morning. Abramo nearly sick with laughter as the plates stacked up, a group of Mountain Flame folk cheered Ryohei on.

“It’s your own fault, Kozato!” A waitress laughed as she put down a cup of sweet tea in front of Abramo. “You basically challenged the man when you said you’d pay. He eats more than a Mountain.”

“It’s just so good!” Ryohei groaned, clearing off his plate with his spoon.

Despite the isolation, Italian blood was thicker than any mulled wine and one attribute had stayed over the generations: food brought people together. And the head chef of this fine family diner, an old woman with a spine like a question mark and a grip that could crush diamond, was all but singing Ryohei’s appetite praises as she pinched his cheeks bruised.

In the corner of the family diner, Basker Ville stood like the monster at the end of the bed. At his feet, a trio of girls sat, threading paper flowers into the holes of his gnarled coat, a pile of red paper napkins between them.

Their mothers watched on with growing warmth. Basker Ville did not move an inch.

Ryohei grinned as another plate of pasta was brought out to him, with seafood straight from the Simone Bays. He dug into it with gusto, feet doing a little tappy dance on the red tiled floors.

“Ryohei.”

Ryohei looked up as a shadow loomed over his table, and the scent of something damp and something rotten crept into his nose. Ryohei swallowed his pasta, refusing to let it go to waste despite how the taste had soured on his tongue.

“Hi Jaeger,” he waved with his spoon.

Basker Ville came floating over. Ryohei spied the red paper flowers lining the bottom of his tattered cloak.

Jaeger looked at the state of his coat. Basker Ville made no move to remedy his uniform.

Jaeger seemed to sigh. Then he turned back to Ryohei who was packing his pasta into a takeaway box.

“You are to return to Base,” Jaeger announced. “The Machine is ready to be witnessed.”

Abramo looked up sharply, a breath taken from between teeth.

Ryohei grinned, feeling a surge of excitement and hope bloom in his blood. He stood without further prompting, takeaway under his arm.

“Ready when you are!”

“May I come!?” Abramo nearly choked out, standing as well. The diner was quiet as they watched. “I — I would like to come as well. To see the Machine.”

Jaeger turned his head slowly towards the head of the Simone Islands, regarding him with icy silence.

“Huh? You haven’t seen it yet?” Ryohei blinked, looking at the Simone man beside him. “Dude! Sure, come on!”

“ Boy —” Jaeger began, frustration clear in that single utterance.

Basker Ville appeared behind the two mortal men and in a flurry of tattered cloaks and red paper flowers, Ryohei and Abramo were plunged into that wet stench of decay and rot. Ryohei grunted as he landed on his behind, the butt of his shorts instantly damp. Abramo stood beside him, grounded and unshaken.

“Earths,” Ryohei grumbled.

Abramo laughed and helped Ryohei to his feet, “Up we go.”

Ryohei pouted as he pulled at his shorts, peeling the wet khaki from the back of his thighs with great tactile discomfort.

Basker Ville groaned and turned to lead the way, navigating halls of sandstone and bedrock, lined with carved-out pillars that harkened back to the Roman Headquarters. Bits of seashells and ancient coral pocked the walls. Abramo trailed his fingers along the wet tunnel, feeling the layers of stone and the passage of time that had built the very land his ancestors walked upon.

Ryohei waddled after them in his wet shorts.

The sandy floors crunched into stone, and Ryohei was tempted to see if his breath would fog as they walked deeper into those tunnels that wound and twisted beneath the island of the Simone. At one point, he heard Abramo murmur, “We must be near the tavern,” like he could have somehow mapped their progress by memory.

Basker Ville gave a soft huff in response. It sounded like the rattling of rusted plumbing.

They walked for a few more turns, the hallways branching off and splintering with doors lining the way. Ryohei glanced at one as they passed, ‘Maintenance Room 3’ the plaque read.

Ryohei snickered.

It got colder. Ryohei felt his skin pebble with goosebumps. Abramo rubbed his arms. Their footsteps splashed in shallow puddles that pooled in the grooves of carved stone. It smelt of sea water and dead fish.

The tunnel curved down steeply, bits of seashell and sand slipping under their sandals.

A door stood at the end of the dark tunnel, layers upon layers of Vindice chain crossing the large stone and steel slabs. Basker Ville groaned as he approached the doors, a dark Flaming hand outstretched. The door warped, darkness leaching through the cracks. It spread like a mould and smelt equally as musty, moist and rotten. Basker Ville stepped aside, and Ryohei stepped through the portal.

The ground was hard-packed stone under Ryohei’s sandals, and the scent of fish was deftly cut by the sharp stench of hot, welded metal and solder. The room was a cavern freshly carved out of the island, gems and mineral deposits dotting the walls and vaulted ceiling, those gleaming riches now unimportant and just another part of the structure. Three grand doors were in each third of the room, each one made of metal and stone and chained down like a Vindice criminal under watch.

Multiple Vindice ghouls floated around, their coats cast aside or sleeves rolled high on their thin, bandaged arms. They carried crates of scrap metal, tanks of butane and coal, and bags of sand. They crouched as they worked with spanners, floating high overhead as they bent beams into arches.

A tunnel off to the side burnt red hot, waves of pure heat wafting out as the sand was dragged in. Faintly, Ryohei could hear glass shatter.

Wires of copper and coolant branched like bulbous roots, sprawled across the floors like wandering vines. Seven large metal bases had been built into the bedrock floor, arching structures of red-hot metal beams wound tightly together like the bud of a rose about to burst into bloom. They stood grand in the centre of the room, at least two men tall and catching the light of Flame and fuse as the Vindice welded.

Ryohei crossed the room, stepping over the wires carefully. They were heavy; if he bumped them, Ryohei didn’t doubt that he’d be the one to move before they did.

He reached the seven bases, lined up in the centre of the cavern. Seven spots, for seven Flames. The new batteries, the new Machine to save the world.

Ryohei touched the base. The metal was cold. It was incomplete. The Machine had no power.

“This place,” Abramo uttered as he stepped out into the cavern, looking around in wonder. He looked up at the rocky roof. “We’re under the church.”

“Indeed. Your church was built upon the part of your island that went deepest below sea level,” Bermuda’s childish voice rang out as he floated over. Behind him, Jaeger followed. “I see you’ve arrived finally, Ryohei.”

“Yeah,” Ryohei answered, still squatting beside the centre base. He took a long breath that tasted of burnt metal. “You guys have been busy. It’s looking good.”

“But unfinished,” Bermuda said, and looked upon the metal frames. “I hoped to be further along. To test this theory.”

“It’ll work,” Ryohei said, voice stern and sure.

Bermuda regarded him coolly, unfazed. He couldn’t let himself be moved so easily. Not again.

“A theory,” Bermuda uttered.

Ryohei gritted his teeth, but let the topic lay.

“So,” Abramo spoke softly, coming to touch the machine as well. “This is where you want us to put our Earth Flames?”

“Correct, once the Machine is complete, we will require you and your most powerful representatives to inject your Flames,” Bermuda said.

Ryohei looked at the Machine, still just a skeleton of the one Ryohei had helped power in his youth. There was a distinct difference though — this one was bigger. Even now, in its stripped-down state, Ryohei could tell this Machine would amount to something mammoth.

When it was finished.

“What’s the part you’re stuck on?” Ryohei asked, rapping his knuckles against the metal base.

A Vindice ghoul grunted at him in warning.

“Two components,” Bermuda sighed and floated towards that small tunnel that wafted with heat and glowed an ominous, sweltering red.

Ryohei stood up with a groan and followed after him, as the stench of a hot kiln grew stronger.

The room was solid stone from ceiling to floor; trails of scorch and smoke climbed the walls. Metal rods leant against anvils, great sheers and tongs littered tables. Several bodies of exposed bandage and rot worked the room, shovels in blackened hands as they fed the three, gaping, hungry mouths of the furnaces, carved out of the bedrock of Simone Island.

Abramo coughed as he stood behind Ryohei. The air was dry and leached life from his throat as he tried to breathe.

A Vindice corpse lumbered across the workshop, metal rod in hand. They dipped the end in a vat of something utterly molten. Steadily, they twisted and dipped, twisted and dipped, until a great blob of red hot sat perched on the rod. The Vindice crossed the room, still twisting to keep that mass from drooling off, and poked it into the belly of the furnace.

They took a breath. Their stomach expanded, their barrel of a chest rose. They pressed their gnarled, dry lips to the end of the rod and blew.

The blob ballooned, and swelled, and the Vindice raced to a large, metal chamber — a mould — and blew again. The molten balloon grew. Back and forth they ran, tempering, heating and blowing until the metal chamber caught the edges of the red bubble. And with another great gust of breath, the bubble took shape, a cylinder, two men tall, and cast in glass inches thick.

Carefully, two other Vindice transferred the slow cooling glass to the far side of the room. The floor sparkled and crunched under their shoes. They set the cylinder in place, a kind of bareboned version of the Machine’s base. Still sealed at the top with warped glass, the chamber was almost rosie as it cooled, and as the last blotch of heat leached away, a Vindice ghoul raised their hand.

Flames of Night erupted within the cylinder. It flickered and swayed, seeming to eat at the light around it.

The glass cracked. A long, spider-webbed split that grew, and stretched, and clawed its way across the glass.

Ryohei threw his arm up as the chamber exploded. Glass rained down on their heads, all small shards and fine crystal powder.

“Five seconds,” Bermuda mused. “A new record. Well done.”

The Vindice in the room nodded in thanks and swept up the shards to be poured into the vat, melted, and everything began again.

“The first issue we have met is the container. The blueprints call for glass specifically, but no glass we craft can contain Flames. The frequency they emit when pure is too much for it,” Bermuda explained, watching the craftsmen try again, and again, and again.

Hands blackened, bandages soaked in sweat and fluid, lips chapped and cracked. Cuts and burns littered their broken bodies. In the light of the furnace, they glittered, glass in their hair and embedded in their skin.

Bermuda watched.

Steadfast. Stubborn. Too willful to lie down, even in death. His Vindice would persist.

Ryohei dusted the glass on his arms into the vat and shook out his shirt.

“So you need some special glass or something?” Ryohei asked as he picked bits out of his hair.

“In short,” Bermuda uttered. Then Bermuda turned and, without preamble, floated from the room. “The second issue is more technical. Whoever designed this Machine was a genius. Whoever scribed it, however, was an idiot.”

Ryohei grinned. He didn’t have the heart to tell Bermuda that the ‘genius’ and the ‘idiot’ were one in the same. Verde, nor Tabolt, were very good at explaining their creative process.

“It is taking a small team to decipher whatever madness their handwriting and lexicon is.”

Ah, that was Tabolt, definitely.

“Haha, sorry ‘bout that! In their defence, they were in a rush!”

“Clearly,” Bermuda muttered. “No matter. They’re making progress. Whether it be through your ‘Verde’ or the Vindice, the instructions will be deciphered.”

“That’s the spirit!” Ryohei cheered and gave Bermuda a pat on the back.

The Vindice Boss wobbled in the air, before he gave Ryohei a sharp and scathing glare. He rightened his hat with a huff.

Ryohei gave a sheepish smile. Abramo snickered.

Ryohei looked around eagerly as they exited the tunnel and crossed that central amphitheatre that housed the metal bones of the Machine. Just seeing it, the tangible progress towards his Family’s Will — it was enough to inspire Ryohei again. Lit the fire under his feet.

He couldn’t wait to get out there and track down Verde.

Bermuda led them to another one of the three doors and a portal warped to life. On the other side of the chain door was a staircase. Made of stone, coral and dangerously steep, it reached up, up and disappeared behind the curve of the earth.

They climbed those stairs, Abramo trailing his fingertips along the wall, feeling the jut of ancient sea shells and slate. Their soles crunched on the sandy stairs, and slowly, Ryohei could feel the soft touch of a breeze across his face.

The stairs reached a landing made of stone, scratched and slashed with chisel marks. On one of the walls were five deep divots, lined up and worn in, like some sort of shelf. Abramo let out a sound of recognition.

“Wait, this is—” Abramo uttered and looked up.

Ryohei followed his gaze and saw a trap door, old and metal. He looked to the divots — a ladder — and climbed. He reached the trapdoor and pushed. The metal hinges groaned, dust and dirt crumbled from the seams.

Ryohei breathed deep.

He could smell incense.

Ryohei blinked, eyes adjusting after so long underground. He looked around. Pews sat before him, old and well-worn, even with their glossy finish. Stained glass windows lined the stone walls, depicting prophets and saints. Candelabras flickered, barely visible against the slanted afternoon sunlight.

Abramo had said the Machine was built under the church.

He heaved himself up and out of the hatch, the rough lines between the tiled floor bit into his palms.

Ryohei felt his nape catch alight and scorch down his back.

Ryohei spun. The mortar dug into his knees.

That tall, lithe silhouette sat in position of pride upon the altar, one knee crossed over the other. Around him, candles were in their stands, each one warm and lit, leaning and flickering as if to reach and touch sun-kissed skin. A burnt match hung from his fingertips, the smoke curled.

They tilted their head and Ryohei saw the shadows peel away, and a satisfied smile was lit by the sweet touch of golden hour. The sun caught those black eyes and shone like something precious, something great. Full of life and freedom. The Greatest.

Ryohei grinned with teeth and heart.

“Reborn.”

Reborn, the very embodiment of the golden hour and dripping with light, shadow and heat upon that flaming altar, smiled back.

“Hello Ryohei.”

#fanfiction #khr #leftnotright #ao3 #reborn #sasagawa ryohei #fix it fic #katekyo hitman reborn #khr rare pair #proof apollo wear hawaiian shirts #time travel fic

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thesporkidentity · 6 months

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Let America Be America Again

By Langston Hughes (1901-1967), Published 1936

Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed— Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There’s never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars. I am the red man driven from the land, I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek— And finding only the same old stupid plan Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope, Tangled in that ancient endless chain Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land! Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need! Of work the men! Of take the pay! Of owning everything for one’s own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil. I am the worker sold to the machine. I am the Negro, servant to you all. I am the people, humble, hungry, mean— Hungry yet today despite the dream. Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers! I am the man who never got ahead, The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream In the Old World while still a serf of kings, Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true, That even yet its mighty daring sings In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned That’s made America the land it has become. O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas In search of what I meant to be my home— For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore, And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea, And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came To build a “homeland of the free.”

The free?

Who said the free? Not me? Surely not me? The millions on relief today? The millions shot down when we strike? The millions who have nothing for our pay? For all the dreams we’ve dreamed And all the songs we’ve sung And all the hopes we’ve held And all the flags we’ve hung, The millions who have nothing for our pay— Except the dream that’s almost dead today.

O, let America be America again— The land that never has been yet— And yet must be—the land where every man is free. The land that’s mine—the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME— Who made America, Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain, Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain, Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose— The steel of freedom does not stain. From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives, We must take back our land again, America!

O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath— America will be!Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death, The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies, We, the people, must redeem The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers. The mountains and the endless plain— All, all the stretch of these great green states— And make America again!

#poetry

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stephenist · 1 year

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youtube

Let America Be America Again

Langston Hughes

1901 –

1967

Let America be America again.

Let it be the dream it used to be.

Let it be the pioneer on the plain

Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—

Let it be that great strong land of love

Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme

That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty

Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,

But opportunity is real, and life is free,

Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There’s never been equality for me,

Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?

And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,

I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars.

I am the red man driven from the land,

I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—

And finding only the same old stupid plan

Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,

Tangled in that ancient endless chain

Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!

Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!

Of work the men! Of take the pay!

Of owning everything for one’s own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.

I am the worker sold to the machine.

I am the Negro, servant to you all.

I am the people, humble, hungry, mean—

Hungry yet today despite the dream.

Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers!

I am the man who never got ahead,

The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream

In the Old World while still a serf of kings,

Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,

That even yet its mighty daring sings

In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned

That’s made America the land it has become.

O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas

In search of what I meant to be my home—

For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore,

And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea,

And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came

To build a “homeland of the free.”

The free?

Who said the free? Not me?

Surely not me? The millions on relief today?

The millions shot down when we strike?

The millions who have nothing for our pay?

For all the dreams we’ve dreamed

And all the songs we’ve sung

And all the hopes we’ve held

And all the flags we’ve hung,

The millions who have nothing for our pay—

Except the dream that’s almost dead today.

O, let America be America again—

The land that never has been yet—

And yet must be—the land where every man is free.

The land that’s mine—the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME—

Who made America,

Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,

Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,

Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose—

The steel of freedom does not stain.

From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives,

We must take back our land again,

America!

O, yes,

I say it plain,

America never was America to me,

And yet I swear this oath—

America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,

The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,

We, the people, must redeem

The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.

The mountains and the endless plain—

All, all the stretch of these great green states—

And make America again!

Source

#langston hughes #let america be america again #4th of july #youtube #marshall #soundtrack #marcus miller #jussie smollett

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miyagidos · 2 years

Text

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒. 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌.

bold likes/what applies.

[ ANIMALS ] birds. birds of paradise. black panthers. bugs. bunnies. cats. chickens. crows. dogs. dolphins. dragons. ducks. eagles. falcons. fish. foxes. hawks. horses. lions. lizards. mice. monkeys. owls. parrots. pegasus. praying mantises. ravens. sharks. snakes. spiders. swans. turtles. unicorns. werewolves. whales. wolverines. wolves.

[ BODY ] athletic. bare feet. bruises. burns. canines. chubby. claws. curvy. eyes. fangs. feathers. feline. freckles. fur. hands. lips. long fingers. muscular. normal height. nose. piercings. scars. scratches. short. skinny. slender. spikes. strong. sweat. tail. tall. tattoos. tears. teeth. trained. untrained. weak. webs. wings. wounds.

[ COLORS ] apple red. black. blue. bronze. brown. charcoal grey. cream. crimson. forest green. gold. green. grey. lilac. matte. metallic. mint green. navy blue. orange. pink. purple. red. royal blue. silver. strawberry red. teal. white. yellow.

[ ELEMENTS ] air. cold. dawn. dewdrops. dusk. earth. fire. frost. heat. ice. lightning. midnight. moon. moonlight. rain. snow. starlight. stars. steam. sun. sunlight. sunrise. sunset. twilight. water. wind.

[ FOODS/DRINKS ] ambrosia. apples. beer. berries. bubblegum. burgers. burritos. candy. caramel. champagne. cherries. chinese food. chocolate. cinnamon. coffee. cream. desserts. figs. fish. hard liquor. herbs. lemons. mangoes. meat. nuts. oranges. peaches. pies. pizza. plums. salt. spices. strawberries. sugar. tea. watermelon. wine.

[ HOBBIES ] acting. art. banjo. bass guitar. bells. books. brass. cameras. cassettes. cds. cello. checkers. chess. climbing. composing. computer. cooking. dancing. dice. drums. eating. electronic guitar. electronics. fencing. fighting. flute. gardening. guitar. harmonica. harp. hiking. jogging. libraries. magazines. martial arts. motorcycle riding. movies. music. painting. phone. piano. playing cards. poker chips. records. riding. running. sculpting. self defense. sewing. singing. sketching. smithing. technology. theater. training. trumpet. video cameras. video games. vinyls. violin. watercolors. woodwinds. writing.

[ MATERIALS ] adamantium. amethyst. ash. asphalt. blood. brick. carbonate. charcoal. clay. cotton. denim. diamonds. dirt. dust. emeralds. fur. glass. glitter. gold. iron. lace. leather. linen. marble. metal. mud. paper. pearls. platinum. porcelain. rubber. rubies. rust. sapphires. shadows. silk. silver. smoke. steel. stone. synthetics. titanium. velvet. wood. wool.

[ MISC ] anger. assistance. balloons. bubbles. candles. cityscape. clocks. coworkers. cuddling. dark. diary. drinking. drugs. enemies. fairy lights. family. fear. friends. frustration. happiness. hope. hugs. kindness. kisses. landscape. light. loneliness. love. loyalty. madness. mirrors. money. optimism. peace. percussion. pessimism. pets. photos. power. sadness. sanity. self harm. smoking. war.

[ NATURE ] bark. beach. caves. clouds. coral reef. daisies. desert. dirt. flowers. forest. grass. hay. lavender. leaves. lilies. meadow. mountains. ocean. petals. rain forest. river. rocks. roots. roses. sand. savanna. seeds. soil. space. stars. thorns. trees. tulips. tundra. underwater. volcanoes. waves.

[ STYLE ] armor. bare feet. belt. boots. bracers. braces. bracelet. brocade. button up. cape. chest plate. circlet. cloaks. coat. corsets. cowls. crown. doublet. dress. earrings. eye contacts. flannel. glasses. gloves. gorget. hat. heels. helmet. hoodies. jacket. jeans. jewelry. leggings. lingerie. makeup. masks. naked. necklace. neck tie. pendant. ring. sash. scarf. shirt. skirt. socks. suit. sunglasses. trousers. tunic. vest. visor. watches.

[ WEAPONS ] axes. bow and arrow. claws. feet. fists. dagger. guns. hammer. katanas. knives. maces. machine guns. magic. magical items. mud balls. pepper sprays. poison. powers. rocks. scythe. shield. slingshots. spear. staffs. sword. tasers. teeth. throwing axes. wands. whips.

#find balance ( study )

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deeisace · 2 years

Text

Dream in which the last episode of Leverage Redemption was on at the cinema

And with about 20 minutes left it showed a screen like "in memory of Eliot Spencer (date - 2022)"

But! It turned out, a minute before then (I was obviously like "this can't be happening, Eliot can't die"), someone used she pronouns for Eliot, and it did turn out that the "in memory" screen was that she was transitioning, not that she'd died

Then the next dream, was a bit longer and more complicated?

So I went round to someone's house - they had a van outside covered completely in frost, and I knocked a bit off the slidey door handle and she told me off cs they were "growing" the ice??? Anyway then their husband came home, briefly, and cycled away when he saw me and also to go to work at the school up the road - I ran after , somehow caught up despite him being on a bike, then fell at the gates and he helped me up

The school was one of those old Victorian ones, red brick and carvings above the doors

And there was a bit of standing in a field and talking about idk what, and then it was nighttime

And there was a greenhouse/potting shed built into the side of the school building, with four mottoes carved above the door

And wriggling pots full of green stuff

And we were all (me, the cycling teacher, couple of students sat up on the flowerbed walls, idk) like ????? wtf is that

Worked out that the mottos were instructions from 150 years ago on how to care for these alien plants once they like activated?

So we just lifted them up out of the little set of six pots - once I took the lid off, the wriggling green stuff solidified into soil, so it was like normal basically

Except the plants grew immediately, and fast, and we put them in the wrong places according to the instructions - they should have been 3-3, but they were 1, 2, 1, 2 (based on where they would fit, quickly, into the existing beds) - which is not useful for making into an arch, as they were supposed to

They looked like roses, sort of, but they were sentient, really, cs when we tried to move the first 1 to go over with a 2, it shoved it's flower in my face and thereafter didn't like me going near it

Then as we were all arguing about what to do, a little homunculus fellow kicked his way out of the bark on the nearest tree

And it was his job? to look after the alien roses? And we tried to explain - turned out he only spoke Dutch, so then the teacher explained - that we'd planted them wrong

And he said - 2 inches tall, mind, with these plants that were now as big as my tomatoes ever got - don't you worry, I'll sort it, I'll explain to the plants what to do

And I said, it also says up on the wall, they should be this round, but the last two are growing this flat, can you fix that?

He could, and we said alright we'll leave you to it for the night, and then that dream faded

Only to be briefly replaced by confusion involving Emma Othick - there is, in the paper, an Emily Othick who drowned herself because her husband had died the previous year - but my Emma Othick she died several years later, I'm as sure of that as anything else about her, and she also (from her prison records, which is chiefly her stealing just little bits to get by) doesn't seem the type to give up in that way

The papers are real, I was looking through them last night

So I have a great deal to check over this morning - is Emily my Emma, is her husband also a William who's an iron moulder - and is my Emma dying in 1921 entirely correct

I'm really not sure of anything about this woman whatsoever, it's terribly frustrating not to,,, have a time machine, tbh

#i have weird fuckin dreams #im sure that was my tag #also tangentially given my last dream was mostly real newspaper articles floating past my face as they're acted out in front of me #genealogy

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i-cordelia · 8 months

Text

Let America be America again.

Let it be the dream it used to be.

Let it be the pioneer on the plain

Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—

Let it be that great strong land of love

Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme

That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty

Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,

But opportunity is real, and life is free,

Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There’s never been equality for me,

Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?

And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,

I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars.

I am the red man driven from the land,

I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—

And finding only the same old stupid plan

Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,

Tangled in that ancient endless chain

Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!

Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!

Of work the men! Of take the pay!

Of owning everything for one’s own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.

I am the worker sold to the machine.

I am the Negro, servant to you all.

I am the people, humble, hungry, mean—

Hungry yet today despite the dream.

Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers!

I am the man who never got ahead,

The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream

In the Old World while still a serf of kings,

Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,

That even yet its mighty daring sings

In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned

That’s made America the land it has become.

O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas

In search of what I meant to be my home—

For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore,

And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea,

And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came

To build a “homeland of the free.”

The free?

Who said the free? Not me?

Surely not me? The millions on relief today?

The millions shot down when we strike?

The millions who have nothing for our pay?

For all the dreams we’ve dreamed

And all the songs we’ve sung

And all the hopes we’ve held

And all the flags we’ve hung,

The millions who have nothing for our pay—

Except the dream that’s almost dead today.

O, let America be America again—

The land that never has been yet—

And yet must be—the land where every man is free.

The land that’s mine—the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME—

Who made America,

Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,

Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,

Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose—

The steel of freedom does not stain.

From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives,

We must take back our land again,

America!

O, yes,

I say it plain,

America never was America to me,

And yet I swear this oath—

America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,

The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,

We, the people, must redeem

The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.

The mountains and the endless plain—

All, all the stretch of these great green states—

And make America again!

#Let America Be America Again #langston hughes #feeling melancholic #poetry always helps

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doomedandstoned · 11 months

Text

FLESH OF THE STARS Reveal Fifth LP, ‘The Glass Garden’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

I've had my eye on FLESH OF THE STARS since 2016's most excellent Hossana and we invited the group to be a part of our compilation Doomed & Stoned in Chicago a year later. Now the Chicago progressive doomers return with their fifth full-length, 'The Glass Garden' (2023). Described by the band as "a southwestern ghost story to match the eerie, elemental tone of the music," the record dares us to imagine a ruined world inhabited by mournful spirits. "Atrocities of the past echo in paranoid visions of creatures in dark corners and hidden signals in the static."

First track "Terraforms" comes rampaging out of the gates with an offbeat rhythm accented by signals which subtly flutter and spurt on the synthesizer. Guitars are emphatic and glowing with irradiated fuzz. You might be expecting black metal shrieks or deathly growls to emerge at this point, but the band contrasts the driving beat with earnest vocals that hover and swirl above the strewn landscape like ghosts. It is precisely this contrast that makes Flesh of the Stars so compelling.

Lyrics present a fluid stream of consciousness, giving up vivid descriptions of the scene before us:

Floods buzzing like a hive over fortified ground. The only voice in the vastness as I idle on thru, uncertain & unbound, onto bear witness to the plague, leaching into tender soil. What will ever stop this meaningless machine? All will be consumed when the floodlights beam.

While you don't need the words to genuinely experience this music, the lyrics really deepened my own appreciation for each track and what it was trying to accomplish. I'm once again drawn to the stark post-apocalyptic short stories of Philip K. Dick for comparison.

With its bittersweet strumming, "Overworld" has the feel of some lost Renaissance air just now unearthed. The soft cooing of the keys and pedal steel guitar in the backdrop adds a layer of uncanny atmosphere to the disquieting narrative. Crashing chords follow, reminding us that we are, after all, still in Doom's domain.

Sand, fragments, and dirt, whirling & rising, pelting my skin, blurring my eyes red & raw. They say, don't turn away until I feel the pull. Gather my strength, cover my eyes, and wait.

If you've appreciated the vocal harmonies up to now, "Into The Maze," pairs them so effectively with the warmth of the bass and some positively Elderesque guitar leads. It's hard to know when "After the Dream" begins, as the previous song melts so seamlessly and naturally into it. There's a dreamy wistfulness about the song, as the lyrics and melodic vocals depict a "surge growing stronger, washing away cars up on bricks. Foundations split, plague comes, mud sticks." Immediately following the emphatic thud-thud-thud-thud of guitar, bass, and drums at the nine-minute mark, synth and lap steel take the reins for a section worthy of a John Carpenter soundtrack.

"Unseen" concludes the album with earthquaking low-end (captured pristinely on this recording), joined by wave-crashing symbols, warm, sustaining bass tone, and clean, consoling vocals. Things end on the single note of feedback that the record began with.

Throughout The Glass Garden, songwriter Matt Ciani (guitar, keys, vox) builds atmosphere like a mighty cloud formation that builds slowly, but eventfully, into massive cumulus monoliths. Matt's ethereal, melancholic singing is especially effective, grounded to reality by stalwart percussionists Nico Ciani and Sam Corman Penzel, with Will Phalen on the pedal steel. In sum, a slow burn that is a genuinely moving album.

Look for The Glass Garden by Flesh of the Stars this Friday, October 27th (get it here). Stick it on a playlist with Elder, Deafheaven, Chrome Ghost, Messa, and Moon Coven.

Give ear...

The Glass Garden by Flesh of the Stars

SOME BUZZ

After ten years of progressive doom metal & synthesizer worship from Chicago’s Flesh of the Stars, the band is closing out their current chapter with the sprawling new full-length The Glass Garden, to be released on October 27, 2023. It is their sixth release, following 2021’s Mirror / Vessels EP and four LPs, including the acclaimed Anhilla (2017) and Mercy (2019).

Recorded in July 2022 with Doug Malone at Jamdekand at FotS home base by frontman Matt Ciani, this new LP embraces sonic clarity & simplicity. The drums hit harder, the guitars blossom in tremendous widescreen, and the keys maintain a sense of unease to match vocalist Matt Ciani’s intimate performance. 'The Glass Garden' is a meticulous blend of synthesizers, electric pianos, pedal steel, and, of course, massive towers of fuzz guitar.

"Compared to our previous work," the band says, "the riffs on GG are more serpentine, the drums more muscular, the BPMs a bit higher, and the arrangements more live-sounding, presenting the band in our core elements with minimal overdubs."

Album opener “Terraforms” starts with a blast, doom but almost not, quickly making clear that Flesh of the Stars are again expanding their sonic capabilities. The story begins with a drive south through the desert as the sun sets in deep red. Dozens of abandoned cars line the highway as we barrel through slinky guitar leads and disorienting whirlwinds of drums.

“Overworld” introduces haunting pedal steel guitar, played by Chicago multi-instrumentalist Will Phalen. His performance ranges from barely-there uneasy swells to hollow ghost town howls to full-on shrieking as the song abruptly shifts in tone and volume.

“Into the Maze” is a marathon - a feast of riffs, melodies, and time signatures, each morphing into each other and then recalling motifs from six sections back. Corman Penzel’s drumming takes us fully through the wormhole, mirroring Ciani’s storytelling, which takes us into an otherworldly aperture, a tunnel “too tight to crawl”, but we’re “too far to turn back.”

Side B begins with a moment to breathe. A lone somber clean guitar patiently coaxes the band back to life after the tumult of “Into the Maze”. It is eventually joined by Fender Rhodes, pedal steel (this time pushing even further into ambient country territory), and Ciani’s quiet & mournful vocal. Over 12 minutes, “After the Dream” builds from near-silence to absolute doom bombast before descending into a subterranean synth finale in the oscillating, modulating void.

“Unseen” seamlessly picks up where “After the Dream” ends, swapping bass synth for a veiled nylon string guitar to begin a 5-minute synth-folk ballad, at times reprising album opener “Terraforms”, taking the listener back to “the all-seeing red” of the nuclear sunset in the desert. What follows is nine minutes of twisting, hurtling, downtuned prog intensity, as The Glass Garden reaches for its highest highs before its startling and abrupt end.

Taken as a whole, The Glass Garden stands as Flesh of the Stars’ most ambitious and fully realized LP, a final word from a band that has never stopped honing their style and skills in their ten-year run.

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

#D&S Debuts #Flesh of the Stars #Chicago #Illinois #doom metal #atmospheric doom #progressive doom #D&S Reviews #Doomed and Stoned

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snpcmachine · 10 months

Text

SnPC Machines, your brick making partner

SnPC Machines, A leading manufacturer of world first fully automatic machine with moving technology, the latest brick making machine produce bricks while moving on wheel like a vehicle as hence can be mentioned as brick making truck as well. With the help of this machine kiln owner can revolutionize their business at a very rapid rate and they have to manage minimum human labours. This machine is eco-friendly and budget friendly as it requires about one-third of water compared with other brick making methods. Bricks produced with these machines are 3times more stronger that others and cost reduces about 45%. Raw materail needed can be clay, red soil, flyash or a mixutre of these. Bricks can be produced anywhere and anytime due to these machines. Three main types of mobile brick making machines are BMM160, BMM310 and BMM410. Just buy Snpc machines and enjoy automatic brick production. These brick making truck are durable, compressive and can be easily handle while operating. Customer from any country, state or provinces either can contact us via our website email or contact for order or more enquires or can visit our place and can physically enquire for their own satisfaction.

#Brick making machine #clay brick #BMM410 #BMM310 #red soil brick #eco-friendly brick machine #machine #kiln machine

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teeg · 1 year

Text

I'm not sure America is America anymore (or if it ever was…I think America was a lie we were all fed when we were young and we bought into it, and by we, I'm including the whole entire world).

"This is America, the greatest country on God's green earth." Except it wasn't, even as it slipped past the lips of all the people who believed the lies and helped to propagate them.

It wasn't for my grandparents who worked the tobacco fields, earning a living for someone else, or for anyone else who's had to eke out a living, getting by on pennies while someone else profits from the dollars your labor brings in.

It wasn't for anyone of a different skin color or with an accent. It wasn't for anyone with a disability, even if they'd received that disability in serving their country, or anyone who believed differently or worshipped differently, and it sure as hell wasn't for anyone who romanced differently.

And it still isn't. It isn't for anyone who struggles to afford each round of chemo they need for their cancer treatments, knowing that there's no country benefits to help them, so they ask over and over, afraid they'll sound like a broken record, but with no better alternative, for someone, anyone, to help with their Go Fund Me. It isn't for the people who lost their jobs in the quarantine and haven't been able to find another even though the news says that employers are desperate for employees, even though stores are closing early rather than actually bringing in people who need the job.

And most likely, it isn't for you and for me, because what they don't tell you when they stand your class up to put their hand over their heart and say the Pledge of Allegiance is that the only way to become a "successful" person in America is by walking on the backs of others, and if you're in public school, you've already been chosen to be one of the ones who have their backs broken, the ones being trod upon.

I'll end with Langston Hughes poem, Let America Be America Again, so that this ends with hope instead of discouragement.

Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed— Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There’s never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

The free?

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose— The steel of freedom does not stain. From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives, We must take back our land again, America!

O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath— America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death, The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies, We, the people, must redeem The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers. The mountains and the endless plain— All, all the stretch of these great green states— And make America again!

#America never was great #it was powerful #and it taught its citizens that wealth is power #and that the poor are weak #and worthy of contempt #and the saddest part is that we believed it #we all believed the lie we were fed #the poor fools who want to 'Make America Great Again' believe it still #never realizing they won't benefit from whatever comes #but their leader will #and he'll laugh all the way to the bank when he goes to deposit their blood sweat and tears

0 notes

ukdamo · 2 years

Text

Let America be America Again

Langston Hughes

Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed— Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There’s never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

The free?

O, let America be America again— The land that never has been yet— And yet must be—the land where every man is free. The land that’s mine—the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME— Who made America, Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain, Whose hand at the foundry, whose plough in the rain, Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose— The steel of freedom does not stain. From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives, We must take back our land again, America!

O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath— America will be!

#poetry #langston hughes #hope #struggle #freedom #prejudice #division #hatred #asipration #determination #liberty #power

0 notes

westrac · 2 years

Text

The eight best mini excavator attachments and their uses

MAX OUT YOUR MINI WITH CAT ATTACHMENTS

Whether you work in plumbing, landscaping, residential or commercial building, agriculture or any range of other outdoor industries, chances are a Cat Mini Excavator could be one of your most valuable work tools.

Coupled with the right attachments, your Mini Excavator becomes even more useful. And for fast changes as you or your operators move from one task to the next, a Quick Coupler could help to maximise your investment, allowing rapid swapping from one attachment to another as the job dictates.

Many of these attachments are suitable for applications across other equipment you may have in your fleet, such as Skid Steer Loaders, Multi Terrain Loaders, Compact Track Loaders, Backhoe Loaders – and of course your Mini Excavator.

WesTrac has compiled details on some of the most popular and useful attachments to help you make the most of your Cat equipment.

WHAT ARE THE TOP MINI EXCAVATOR ATTACHMENTS?

1. HYDRAULIC THUMB

Cat Utility Thumbs increase machine productivity as they enable the machine operator to use the bucket and thumb like a hand. When not in use, the thumb folds back and can be easily and quickly activated. A shut-off valve enables the use of other hydro mechanical work tools while keeping the thumb retracted.

The Cat hydraulic pin-on thumb can maintain its relationship with the rotation of the bucket and is engineered to match the bucket tip radius, width and spacing of the teeth to enable it to mesh perfectly.

Cat Hydraulic Thumbs come in a two tine configuration and meshes with Cat mini excavator buckets 457mm & larger. All provide wide compatibility with machines, buckets and couplers.

Whether completing site clean-up, moving pipes, blocks, rocks or bricks into place, carting logs or any number of other tasks, Cat Utility Thumbs are versatile and highly practical for use in plumbing, landscaping, general construction, farming and a host of everyday Mini Excavator tasks.

2. AUGER

Cat® Augers are the perfect work tool for drilling holes for footings, fencing, signs, trees and shrubs in construction, agricultural and landscaping applications. They deliver the torque required for maximum productivity in a broad range of soil types. Quicker and safer than manual digging or using hand-held augers, the Cat Auger drives are designed with Cat machine weight, power, system pressure and flow rates matched to provide the best performance. The standard 2-inch hexagon shaft across all the drives uses six sides to drive the auger into the ground, providing more torque than a round shaft and improved wear life in tougher digging conditions. All Cat Auger drives have a two-year parts and labour warranty.*

3. TILT ROTATE COUPLER

We’ve already mentioned the benefits of Quick Couplers, but there’s no attachment that’s more versatile for a Mini Excavator than the Cat Tilt Rotate Coupler.

These are work tools designed to significantly reduce the time and need to constantly reposition the machine. The Tilt Rotate Coupler provides revolutionary 360 degrees of continuous rotation and 40 degrees of tilt. The The S-Type Tilt Rotate Coupler models can be fitted with the optional familiar red grapple while the Cat Pin-Grabber style Tilt Rotate Couplers will pick up all of the standard cat buckets & attachments without having to change pickups. Offering exceptional productivity, the Tilt Rotate coupler functionality is integrated into the Cat Next Gen Mini Excavator Advanced Display (no secondary screen required) to select and control the functions and features of the Cat TRS (Tilt Rotate System) while the optional RPS (Tilt Rotator Positioning Solution) for TRS6 and TRS8 provides high precision, exact positioning in real time from the coupler if you want to connect 2D or 3D systems.

4. STATIC WHEEL COMPACTOR

For plumbers, landscapers, earthworks contractors and anyone needing to backfill trenches or compact cohesive and clay soils, Cat® Compaction Wheels for Mini Excavators are a low-cost attachment option. They use the weight of the machine and applied downward force to compact soil, with 6-10 passes typically adequate to achieve compaction in normal soil conditions, dependent on the required compaction levels. Cat Compaction Wheels are a great choice for soils where vibration compactors may not achieve good compaction. The open rim design allows the wheel to penetrate through the fill and compact the soil from the bottom up.

5. HYDRUALIC VIBRATORY PLATE COMPACTOR

Cat® Vibratory Plate Compactors are designed to be used for general construction duties, from compacting soil, sand and gravel in preparation for pouring concrete or laying asphalt, to slope compaction and other site preparation activities. Their low cost makes them a popular choice among pavers, general contractors and utility contractors in residential, commercial or industrial applications. The integrated pressure flow control – included in every Cat compaction plate as standard – protects the tool from rapid increase to pressure flow and enhances reliability. No case drain is required on the machine. It includes enhanced hose routing to minimise damage to the attachment’s hoses and bearings are designed to be lubricated in a continual oil bath.

OPERATING TIP: Use the compactor in 10-second bursts. The Cat® Vibratory Plate Compactor is not like a hammer and does not require much downward force to work effectively. The movement of the plate up and down provides sufficient compaction so the plate only needs to make contact with the ground. In fact, if excessive downward force is applied, the motor can experience higher than normal reaction forces as the plate does not have adequate room to move up and down. Comes with a two-year parts and labour warranty*.

6. GRAPPLE

Cat® Contractors’ Grapples for 7-9 ton Mini Excavators easily handle small and large material and debris. The two over three tine configuration gives these grapples a large enough surface area for material handling and demolition work. Interlocking tines grasp and hold more material securely when sorting or loading into a truck or at ground level. A slightly curved lower jaw profile is designed to optimise penetration and facilitate ease and speed when unloading the grapple. Long tine design and wide spacing increases visibility of the material while connectivity of the stiff arm to the machine is simplified using the existing thumb bracket on the Cat Mini Excavator stick.

7. HAMMER

Cat® Hammers are high performance breakers, designed for maximum performance on demolition, construction and road work. Whether you are breaking concrete slabs or driveways, pavements, roads, masonry or brickwork, breaking ground for utility repairs or just carrying out general site prep and landscaping, they are touch tough &, versatile work tools. The Cat B Series Silenced Hammers use a simple design that ensures reliability, versatility, ease of use and maintenance. As a package solution, the matching Caterpillar designed hydraulic kits are also supplied and the best fit for Cat® machines - providing customers a hammer package with superior design and benefits. All hammers come with a two-year parts and labour warranty*.

8. MULCHER

With heavy rains and bushfires a common issue in Australia, clearing land around properties is a priority.

he Cat HM210 Mulcher is designed for high-performance cutting and mulching of vegetation and undergrowth. These hydraulic mulchers reduce saplings, shrubs and trees into mulched material, making them ideal for environmental maintenance, such as creating firebreaks or removal of invasive plants. The first pass removes plant materials while a second pass, with the door closed mulches the material down from a maximum thickness of around 300mm to 50mm, enabling faster decomposition and providing a layer of protection to the ground to prevent drying out and erosion.

Pairing the mulcher with the Cat 309 Next Gen Mini Excavator, which has an attachment dedicated high-flow pump, enables stick/boom and travel movement without compromising flow to the mulcher. The most powerful and efficient combination is achieved using the stick steer travel, cruise control and continuous flow on the Cat 309 with the Cat HM210 Mulcher – it is a favourite of councils and landscaping contractors, often running rings around larger machines.

RUNNER UP - RIPPER

While it didn't make the top eight cut, there is one more work tool that’s well worth adding to your Mini Excavator toolkit and that's a Cat Ripper. These versatile tools are ideal for landscaping, land clearing, demolition, picking apart debris or lifting slabs and site preparation in hard soils or rock. Rippers can be used with a pin grabber coupler, paired in a coupler and thumb combination, or as a pin-on individual attachment.

THE BEST ATTACHMENTS FOR MINI EXCAVATORS ARE AVAILABLE FROM WESTRAC /P>

Whether you’re in the market for a second excavator attachment or a sixth, WesTrac is your primary source in NSW, ACT and WA. We carry a wide assortment of Cat attachments from this list and more, all engineered to optimise your Cat compact equipment. If you need advice on choosing or installing a new attachment, ask our experts today.

#westrac #excavator hire #construction equipment

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alex51324 · 2 years

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A Poem for the Fourth of July

Let America Be America Again

Langston Hughes

- 1901-1967

Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed— Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There’s never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

The free?

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose— The steel of freedom does not stain. From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives, We must take back our land again, America!

O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath— America will be!

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rc--chan · 3 years

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Pokespe Evil Team AU Because Procrastinating Is My Job

So basically this is an au where the dexholders are leaders/admins of an evil team. This isn't an au where the dex holders join the evil teams, but one where they make the evil team. And actually do a good job...

Kanto Dex Holders: Team Myth. For the Kanto team I was thinking of an illegal fighting ring. Basically they force pokemon to fight each other with no trainer for the entertainment of others. They would have key locations in more remote locations where no one would expect. Like in the Pokémon Mansion, the Power Plant or under Pokémon Tower. Because who would think there is an illegal fighting ring under a graveyard? I named it Team Myth because no one can catch them, thus they seem like a Myth. Now onto their roles:

Red: Red is the admin found in the Power Plant. I originally wanted to make him the leader, but then I realized he isn't patient enough for it and it really doesn't fit his character. Thus he is an admin. His fighting ring would be the only one that occasionally allows trainers to battle with rented pokemon against other trainers. The fights would be to the death in this case since they are considered more advanced. You can also challenge Red to a fight and if you win he will give you a lollipop. To get to the fighting ring you need to traverse through the power plant until you reach an unnatural looking dead end. If you pull on the tail of a pikachu statue found there, a door opens.

Green: Green is the team leader. His calculative and somewhat cold nature really fits the role of a mafia boss. The main base of Team Myth would be in Pallet Town, his hometown. It would be hidden under the lab. Green being the professor's assistant is able to keep it all a secret. The entrance would be hidden under the bookshelf the the right corner. The classic, you pull a book and there is a secret staircase behind the wall. The hideout is divided in 4 parts that have the floor color coded so you know who it belongs to. To get to Green you'd have to defeat all 3 of the other admins and get a special key. Once you have all 3 keys, you can enter his section of the hideout.

Blue: Blue is the admin under the Pokémon Tower. Her whole gimmick was being a con lady so of course she is running the biggest con. People think she comes to Pokémon Tower and donates money to it out of the goodness of her heart. In reality she manages the biggest fighting ring. Her fighting ring would have more rare pokemon from other regions, like Drapion or Alolan Marowak. To get to it you need to get to the last floor of the tower and push on a brick on the wall behind the two statues. There is a secret elevator that will take you to the fighting ring.

Yellow: Yellow is in charge of the Pokémon Mansion fighting ring. She managed to transform the place into a ”sanctuary” for pokemon. The first floor has pokemon in small natural habitats, the basement is the staffroom for the people that work there and the last two floors are off limits because they house the fighting ring. People donate pokemon to the sanctuary and Yellow brings the strongest ones to the fighting ring. To get to the fighting ring you need to go to the security guard at the entrance of the stairs and pay him 1000 pokedollars to let you in as well as a special invite.

Johto Dex Holders: Team Toxicus. They are in charge of illegal experiments. They capture pokemon from the wild/steal them/have them bred and use them for experiments. This ranges from harmless ”how does this pokemon react in this situation” to testing drugs on them. They would work closely with Team Myth and sell them pokemon with perfect IVs, EVs, specific natures and abilities. Their key locations are in easy to access places or in spots with a lot of pokemon like the Daycare on Route 34, Azalea Town and Goldenrod City. I called it Team Toxicus as a reference to their experiments.

Gold: Gold is an admin. Again, his personality doesn't really fit the leader persona to me. He owns the daycare on route 34 and the lab under it. Trainers leave their pokemon with him and he steals their egg. ”Yeah sorry, no egg this time. Your pokemon must really hate each other.” Then the eggs are taken to the lab where they are hatched, raised and send to experimentation. To enter the lab you need to get behind the counter and manually set the clock hands to 2:02. A secret trapdoor will open in the place where pokemon stay.

Crystal: Crystal is the boss. We all know that the Johtrio shares one braincell and Crystal has it 95% of the time. So she gets to be the boss. Unlike Team Myth, Team Toxicus doesn't have a ”main base”. The whole operation has 3 labs rotate pokemon between each other that are also designed like hideouts. Crystal's lab is in Violet City, next to Ilex Forest. Pokemon are captured from the forest and brought in the lab for experimentation. The lab is underneath the Poké Mart. To get in you ask the Poké Mart clerk for ”a golden pokeball” and he will take you to the back from where you can take a ladder down.

Silver: Silver is also an admin. Making papa Giovanni proud. Silver works closely with evil teams from other regions in order to obtain rare pokemon not normally found in Johto. His lab is in Goldenrod City because it's a port city and it has easy access to cargo ships. He buys/trades pokemon for ones found in other regions and takes them to the lab for experimentation. The lab is in the Magnet Train station. To get to it you need to go on the platform and search for a red tile. You take out the tile and jump into a hole that leads to the hideout.

Hoenn Dex Holders: Team Triad. They are pokemon traficants. They steal or buy pokemon from other teams and then sell them on the black market. ”You want that shiny Milotic for contests but Feebas is too hard to find? You want to be champion but breeding for perfect IVs is too much work for you? Want to defeat the battle frontier but don't want to train a new team of pokemon? Team Triad has you covered.” Team Triad has only one base, in Mauville City. It is under the closed Game Corner and to get to it you make a pokemon use Strength on one of the slot machines. It reveals a secret trapdoor underneath. I named it Team Triad for obvious reasons.

Ruby: Ruby is an admin. Team Triad is run by all 3 of its admins, so there is no boss. He is the one that works with teams from other regions to get pokemon. The hideout has three floors and Ruby has the first floor. His floor is very elegant and is specifically designed for business deals.

Sapphire: Sapphire is the one in charge of capturing pokemon so she rarely spends time at the hideout. She goes out a lot with the grunts to steal pokemon or capture them. She has the second floor, but since she is rarely at the hideout, its the least decorated.

Emerald: Emerald is the one that actually raises the pokemon and trains them. He receives newly hatched pokemon from Team Toxicus that he trains to their fullest potential. He has the last floor and its designed specifically to train pokemon. He grows berries in there, has soil from a pokemon's birthplace and a lot of training equipment.

Sinnoh Dex Holders: Team Relic. Sinnoh has a lot of history and rare relics lying around, so I decided they own a smuggling ring. They smuggle rare items like Master Balls, rare held items and relics that have a strong connection to legendary pokemon. The blue and red orb? The azure flute? Griseous orb? They have all of them. They sell these items on the black market to collectors and desperate trainers. This team also only has only one hideout but they also own a lot deposits across the region where the items are held. The hideout is in the Berlitz mansion for obvious reasons. Again I chose the name for obvious reasons.

Diamond and Pearl: They are a package deal. Both admins. They travel the regions under the disguise of being a comedy duo. They use this act in order to learn where they can find rare items that they can steal. They also work closely with the Unova team. When they aren't all over the region, they act as Platina's bodyguards.

Platina: She is the mastermind behind this whole thing. She uses the money received from the Grand Hotels all over the region to fund the whole operation. She transformed her mansion into a hideout and is the one that strikes most deals.

Unova Dex Holders: The region that actually what gave me the idea to write this, because one night I thought to myself ”White could totally use the money she makes from the BW Agency to make an evil team and take over the region if she wanted to”. As for the name of the evil team: BW Agency. You all saw that coming. The BW Agency uses the disguise of an acting agency to hide their illegal items manufacturing. They create Master Balls, rare items and forgeries. They are the team with the most bases, having them all over the region. The most important ones are in Virbank City, Nimbasa City, Castelia City and Accumula Town.

Black: Black is an admin and White's bodyguard. He joins White during business meeting and helps her with whatever he can. When he isn't with White he spends his time at his base in Castelia City training the grunts and their pokemon. The hideout is underneath the Battle Company and to get to it you need to take a secret elevator found under the statue in the lobby.

White: White is the boss for very obvious reasons. She runs both the acting and illegal manufacturing aspects of the agency. She works closely with Team Relic and is good friends with Platina. The main base is in Virbank City, underneath Pokéstar Studios. To get to the base you need to go inside the dressing room and move the biggest painting, behind it there is a tunnel that leads to the hideout.

Lack-Two: Lack-Two is an admin and a secret spy inside the International Police. He pretends to be an officer that spies on the BW Agency when in reality he is spying on the police. A double agent basically. His base is in Nimbasa City. The hideout is underneath the Musical Theater, to get in you need to tell the owner that ”Ms. White from the BW Agency sent me to retrieve the black Prop Case” and he will take you underneath the stage where there is a secret elevator.

Whi-Two: Whi-Two is also an admin. She is in charge of the team's pokemon. She makes sure that they are fed and in top condition in case something happens. Her base is the smallest of the main 4 and in Accumula Town under the Pokemon Center. To get to it you need to go behind Nurse Joy's healing machine, if you move it there is a secret passageway.

Kalos Dex Holders: Team Z. Lame name, ik but I'm kinda running out of ideas for team names. They also do experiments but on mega evolution, they are experimenting to see if you can force a pokemon to mega evolve permanently. The team is co-run by X and Y. They are pretty efficient as they divided the tasks fifty-fifty. They have 6 small bases, 2 of which are in Lumiose and 1 big one in Anistar, that is considered the main base. If you use dive near the Sundial you can reach the secret base that is underneath it.

X: X is in charge of training the grunts and their pokemon and supervises the progress of the lab experiments. He is also the one that test if an experiment was a success by trying to battle with the pokemon.

Y: Y is the one that brings new cargo to the hideouts as well as capturing pokemon that are capable of mega evolving. She works closely with the BW Agency since they provide her with Master Balls.

Alola Dex Holders: The Delivia Company. They are a delivery company that secretly researches a way to amplify moves using Z-Crystal and illegally sells rare pokemon from Kanto, like Kantonian Persian and Vulpix. They have at least 1 base on each of the islands. Their most important ones are in Aether Paradise and Malie City.

Sun: Sun is the boss. When he couldn't get Aether Paradise back by normal means, he decided to create an evil team with strong pokemon to get it back. He succeeded and transformed the island into the main hideout of his evil team.

Moon: Moon is an admin and manages the pokemon and 85% of paperwork. She is also one of the main researchers and spends a lot of time in the lab in Malie City. The lab is underneath Malie Library, to get in you need to rotate one of the small golden statues found on the railing at the bottom of the staircase. This will open a trap door in the floor that reveals more stairs going down.

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