#st. mark's church

[manwalksintobar]

the Age pt II

And this is the Age of the Triumph of Beatnik Messages of Social Foment Coded into the Clatter of the Mass Media over 20 Years Ago! Ha! Ha! Ha! How do we fall down to salute with peals of Heh heh hehhh! That the Beats created change without a drop of blood! In 1965 it was all we could do to force-cajole the writers for Time Magazine not to reinforce the spurious Anslinger synapse, that pot puff leads to the poppy fields— but now the states are setting hemp free! Ten years of coded foment! Heh! Heh! Heh! Yesterday: the freeing of verse Today: pot Tomorrow: free food in the supermarket Heh! heh! heh! And finally let us ne’r forget that this is the Age of Ha Ha Hee! Ha Ha Hee is such a valuable tool in the tides of social transformation! Ha Ha Hee will set you free from worm-farm angst Ha Ha Hee will even curdle the fires of jealousy! Ha Ha Hee outvotes the Warrior Caste Ha Ha Hee doth whelm the self-devouring quarrel Ha Ha Hee peals out through all the cosmos mandorla’d with poet angels holding Plato’s 7 single syllables in a tighter harmony than the early Beach boys— This is the poets’ era and we shall all walk crinkle-toed upon the smooth cold thrill of Botticelli’s shell.

Written for the New Year’s Reading at St. Mark’s Church January 1, 1975

[runawayandhide]

[aneverydaything]

Day 2241, 11 August 2024

The tower of St Mark's church in Bath.

Because England is relatively flat it is unusual to be able to take a photograph of a church tower without sky. However the steep hills around Bath means that one can capture this tower without any sky.

[biostatprof]

St. Mark's Basilica (Basilica di San Marco), Venice Italy.

[allanodyne]

Show the gods whose will floats in hellfire

             by AllanOdyne

[balkanwonders]

Winter in Belgrade, Serbia.

❄️❄️❄️🛷❄️❄️❄️🇷🇸❄️❄️❄️🛷❄️❄️❄️

[mjshortformcjesus]

Guys, tomorrow’s St Mark’s Eve! Gonna get my Blue cosplay and appear at a church in the middle of the night if my parents let me

edit: i read my calendar wrong sorry its today

[sexynetra]

Six(ish) Sentence Sunday

Hi besties I’m in Italy for a choir tour so I have not had much time to write but here’s a snippet from the flight over 💕

~~~~~~

They stared at each other for a moment, and Marcia felt that same charged energy running through her again, almost electric. Anetra broke her gaze first, moving closer until they were practically nose to nose. “Here, I’ll hold it for you, do all the work. Just… breathe in when I tell you. A small breath.” She raised an eyebrow and Marcia gave a nod and a two-fingered salute.

“Got it. Small breath in, hold it, blow it out. How hard can it be? It’s not rocket science,” Marcia chirped out, trying to keep an air of false bravado. She needed to keep up a visage of confidence, fake it until she made it.

Anetra nodded in agreement. “Not rocket science,” she echoed, one hand carefully coming to rest on Marcia’s chin to turn her head slightly before placing the smooth glass against her lips. “Purse your lips over the small hole — yeah, just like that. Perfect. You’re doing great,” her murmured praises continued and Marcia could feel her cheeks burning and something warm and fuzzy settling deep in her chest. She wanted to do well, to get Anetra to keep complimenting her, to keep speaking to her in that soft sacred tone that made her feel like the only other person in the world.

[getoutofthisplace]

Dear Gus & Magnus,

Gus's team dominated their opponents in this morning's soccer game. I thought they won 12-0, but Gus said their coach announced 16-0, which may be true because they could have scored four more goals when I went to the car to get something. Either way, they "smoked them," as Gus has learned to say. He played his best game yet, getting his foot on the ball a few times, even in heavy traffic. I was proud of him.

Afterward, we went to the grand opening celebration of the Arkansas Symphony Orchestra's new building. As soon as we got there, St. Mark's Baptist Gospel Choir was preparing to sing with the symphony. All the seats were full, so we went to the front and sat in the floor. Magnus was enamored with the whole production. He kept saying, "Are they going to do another one?" (Gus, however, was not into it.)

We ate bad food truck nachos/burritos, then walked around downtown for a while. Nene had never been over the pedestrian bridge, so we showed that to her. We were all tuckered by the time we got home.

Dad.

Little Rock, Arkansas. 9.14.2024 - 12.08pm.

[cyhsal]

Reflections 🪞

Composition inspired by Caravaggio’s Narcissus. Bonus material is Lewerentz in vestments (priest variations + deacon), I love liturgical garments and the ritualistic aspects of religious practice.

Instagram // Twitter // Threads // Bluesky // VK // Cara // Mastodon

[emaadsidiki]

St. Mark’s Church ⛪

[manwalksintobar]

The Age // Ed Sanders

This is the Age of Investigation, and every citizen must investigate! For the pallid tracks of guilt and death, slight as they are, suffuse upon the retentive electromagnetic data-retrieval systems of our era. And let th’ investigators not back away one micro-unit from their investigations — for the fascist hirelings of gore await in the darkness to shoot away the product of the ballot box And if full millions do not investigate, we will see the Age of Gore, and the criminals of the right will rise up drooling with shellfish toxin, to send their berserker blitz of mod manchurian malefactors mumbling with motorized beowulfian trance-instructions, to chop up candidates in the name of some person-with-a-serotonin- imbalance’s moan of national security And this is the Age of Investigative Poetry, when verse-froth again will assume its prior role as a vehicle for the description of history—and this will be a golden era for the public performance of poetry: when the Diogenes Liberation Squadron of Strolling Troubadours and Muckrakers will roam through the citadels of America to sing opposition to the military hit men whose vision of the U.S.A. is a permanent War Caste & a coast-to-coast cancer farm & a withered, metal-backed hostile America forever And this is the age of left-wing epics with happy endings! of left-wing tales/movies/ poems/ songs/ tractata/ manifestoes/ epigrams/calligrammes/graffiti/neonics and Georges Braque frottage-collage-assemblage Data Clusters which dangle from their cliffs the purest lyricals e’er to hang down a hummingbird’s singingbird throat This is the age of Garbage (pronounced Garbájzhe). And we’re not talking here about Garbage Self-Garbage—but an era of robotic querulousness— how at the onset of a time when the power of a country is up for grabs, the Garbage Hurlers, attired in robes of military-industrial silk, arise to hurl, as swift in their machinations as a chorus in the Ice Capades: and none of us will trudge this era without a smirch-face waft of thrilly offal dumped upon our brows of social zeal—and the pus-suck provocateurs armed with orbiting plates of dog vomit will leap at us while we stand chanting our clue-ridden dactyls of KNOW THE NEW FACTS EARLY! Know-the-new-facts-early, know-the-new-facts early! And do not back away one micro-unit just because some C.I.A. weirdomorph whose control agents never ended WW II invades your life with a mouthful of curdled exudate from the head of the Confederate Intelligence Agency & This is the Age of Nuclear Disarmament—when the roamers of the Hills join hands with the nesters of the Valley Wild, to put an end to nuke puke w/ a zero-waver total transworld Peace Walk—that the War Caste wave no more their wands of plutonium and the dirks in the nuclear mists no longer chop up the code of life

[runawayandhide]

[midwesternartlovertraveler]

St. Mark's Episcopal Church, Casper, Wyoming https://midwesternartlovertraveler.tumblr.com/

[une-sanz-pluis]

every now and again I think about Eleanor Cobham is buried somewhere in Beaumaris and get really sad about how no one knows where (and that no one but me and maybe 3 other people care).

[cooljamaicauniverse]

St. Mark — Mandeville Parish Church, Mandeville, Jamaica

Mark Phinn Photography