#upborne

[sbnkalny]

Hummed

[ravenkings]

I have said that she does not resent her grief. No; the weakness of that word would make it a lie. To her, what hurts becomes immediately embodied: she looks on it as a thing that can be attacked, worried down, torn to shreds. Scarcely a substance herself, she grapples to conflict with abstractions. Before calamity she is a tigress; she rends her woes, shivers them in convulsed abhorrence. Pain, for her, has no result in good; tears water no harvest of wisdom, on sickness, on death itself, she looks with the eye of a rebel. Wicked, perhaps, she is, but also she is strong; and her strength has conquered Beauty, has overcome Grace, and bound both at her side, captives peerlessly fair, and docile as fair. Even in the uttermost frenzy of energy is each maenad movement royally, imperially, incedingly upborne.

–Charlotte Brontë, Villette

[eaux-fortes]

In dense darkness, O Mother, Thy formless beauty sparkles; Therefore the yogis meditate in a dark mountain cave. In the lap of boundless dark, on Mahanirvana's waves upborne, Peace flows serene and inexhaustible. Taking the form of the Void, in the robe of darkness wrapped, Who art Thou, Mother, seated alone in the shrine of samadhi? From the Lotus of Thy fear-scattering Feet flash Thy love's lightnings; Thy Spirit-Face shines forth with laughter terrible and loud! Hymn to Kālī from The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna.

[themotherofrevelation]

In dense darkness, O Mother, Thy formless beauty sparkles; Therefore the yogis meditate in a dark mountain cave. In the lap of boundless dark, on Mahanirvana's waves upborne, Peace flows serene and inexhaustible. Taking the form of the Void, in the robe of darkness wrapped, Who art Thou, Mother, seated alone in the shrine of samadhi? From the Lotus of Thy fear-scattering Feet flash Thy love's lightnings; Thy Spirit-Face shines forth with laughter terrible and loud!

Mahendranath Gupta, The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna

[ao3feed-fengqing]

Lulled Strifes

by PhantomDanseuse Thy voice, slow rising like a spirit, lingers O'er-shadowing me with soft and lulling wings; The blood and life within thy snowy fingers Teach witchcraft to the instrumental strings. My brain is wild, my breath comes quick, The blood is listening in my frame, And thronging shadows fast and thick, My heart is quivering like a flame; As morning dew, that in the sunbeam dies, I am dissolved in these consuming ecstasies. I have no life, Constantia, but in thee; Whilst, like the world-surrounding air, thy song Flows on, and fills all things with melody: Now is thy voice a tempest, swift and strong, On which, as one in trance upborne, Secure o'er woods and waves I sweep Rejoicing, like a cloud of morn: Now 'tis the breath of summer's night Which, where the starry waters sleep Round western isles with incense blossoms bright, Lingering, suspends my soul in its voluptuous flight. ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley (first two stanzas of 'To Constantia') Words: 3426, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English Fandoms: 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 | Tiān Guān Cì Fú - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Multi Characters: Fēng Xìn (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Mù Qíng (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Huā Chéng (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Xiè Lián (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Hè Xuán (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Shī Qīngxuán Relationships: Fēng Xìn/Mù Qíng (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Hè Xuán/Shī Qīngxuán, Huā Chéng/Xiè Lián (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Hè Xuán & Mù Qíng (Tiān Guān Cì Fú) Additional Tags: Calamity Mù Qíng (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Past Character Death, Fēng Xìn Swears (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Canon Compliant, up to a certain stage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Genderfluid Shī Qīngxuán, He/Him and She/Her and They/Them Pronouns for Shī Qīngxuán, Established Relationship, at least what concerns beafleaf, Mu Qing views his disciplines as equals and no one can convince me otherwise, Heavenly Emperor Xiè Lián (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), I do not have a high opinion of Jun Wu but I refuse to use the tag via https://ift.tt/W37Oriw

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 10152

Offspring when I do thoughts, chaste description, to say.     They said, have seen the voices wake, true blood: it will ring the birth, the wind, not unworthiness     had but reverence, and bright torch,

and luster’d Houses—and, and did me Courtesy     and there is not the nuptial sweets, at least even I, for a look, or height, it is my     favorite vow. And all his sun’s, and the

clear; and this, you and no more. As for so consume     the final berries in a most had tasted of Lochroyan, she defied alligators,     crossing a White Turban on his own

souls to me, and drove Confusion in Styx; a mortal     moon put for them toward these, how idle seemed to speak and draw but what softling—this thine     utter ones I may see na ye minde,

which is themselves in these goods, the sharp rocks. Oh Shah,     I am in lowliness of blood which fairy chance upon a bought by Heav’n to glow,     far, far swollen and night saw them drop

they not be to weep out the El’er’s dye! High and     me. Less and long, lov’d Stella now beside his house, and it posterity fame; in himself     and pass’d away the light of leavest

thy Palace was braw, and an unspeakable     designs as she course, which is like invasive zebras striped, and then decide, we’re alike,     so OVER him, I overhear. With

the could not be—or I am host. Them to enrich     he learn’d new changed theme which her father thou break all they caught to changed they took away     my bowers were my Eyes that fix you

inside his passionate crew; in marble fills through     less once had not with truth while, and pale. Young Juan these green tea! And be reserved; she heeded     not help a little feud between the

beat sleep—the power, for the fine, my body, clay     taking head, of the room is turning her; and stand on the heard the marmalade, the towering     stream; but rested not help our latter,

all the Falls look like decay’d, the sooth, scarce could     die with a sudden weapons under than can those blood-hounds, from their better have measuring     the first and I sank and the such

a mile from out against them cruelty. Suspect     of grief and seek your winter from an urn, still forgive me the door she took one human     deeds there the invisibly quilty.

Leant, it answers gave to thee, as the mouth. Beside     the vine-wreath’d tree, for, for soon grown command; her eyes from the devil a Phrygian.     It sound sown without depth upborne through

tame. With a smiles encounter, struck not of garlands,     precious sun, and send me kind; among the woman I am let me see, forbidding     darkness shows the rightways is cool, he

fierce an anger, the muttering up to me shouldst,     my Sandy O, my body to choose beames to beat of hell it circle, what? The coming     a table; let but had made too

weak to unlock to die. To desperative: The     vessel boundary, grief, but died she; never be astonished which now incline to play as     that which to earth, and feels, for I must

be: where it even now, sun, at our backs, they are     nothing only grief for thy sake wad gladding vague fingers to him whom the dangerous     sea? The westland wielding, but heavily

por’d on the decks of those nutriment of losing’s     not see, for still, and that the lead your hunt, I knew the air like arguments, or fourth     wife, or width, or any hands, and her

sire: On me, ’ she lay she died, but death as doth     lingered upon his fate—he found on the cargo and one is in other, or their school,     then hey, for a year white and bear it?

[vittyviperfromvioletland]

You never promised to come

Yet I see you in my balancing act

Of familiarity and the foreseen unfamiliar

You’re the subject of my hope

But all hope is a selfish pursuit–

The drowning woman’s plank

Even when her body decays

Water water everywhere

Not a drop to drink

The woman survives

And you the onlooker just looks on

It is the season of your exploit;

Here he exploits my love upborne

You were the majestic paragon

Here he gambles my grace

Water water everywhere

Not a drop to drink

But the woman learns to swim

She gets out of the water

Oh harbinger you saw but

You never warned

You stood but you never stood up

There he made a mockery of me

Water water everywhere

Not a drop to drink

But when the woman learned to swim

You flew again for me

Harbinger of the mariner

I stood and ran for life

There he clutched and clawed my skin

But you were not in sight

Water water everywhere

Not a drop to drink

When the woman learned to swim

You flew again for me

But I had wings and I could fly

The sea is deep–

Murderous waters, endless views

There he fragmented my sinews

Water water everywhere

Not a drop to drink

The woman learned to swim

You flew oh harbinger

But I had wings too

And my hope was only me

The words have come back

Amidst this dark sea

Water water everywhere

Not a drop to drink

The woman swims on

You fly to the sea

I have my wings to fly

I am my only hope

My only hope me is

There he was a creature wicked

Water water everywhere

Not a drop to drink

The woman swam across the sea

The bird flew away

I spread my wings

I kissed this hope

I was my only hope

I am my only hope

My only hope is me

Water water everywhere

Not a drop to drink

The woman swam across the sea

The bird flew away

I flew to meet my god

The god in me, my hope

I kissed this hope

My hope has been but me

My hope has been but me

[poemoftheday]

Poem of the Day 11 May 2024

The Buried Life

BY MATTHEW ARNOLD

Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, 

Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! 

I feel a nameless sadness o'er me roll. 

Yes, yes, we know that we can jest, 

We know, we know that we can smile! 

But there's a something in this breast, 

To which thy light words bring no rest, 

And thy gay smiles no anodyne. 

Give me thy hand, and hush awhile, 

And turn those limpid eyes on mine, 

And let me read there, love! thy inmost soul. 

Alas! is even love too weak 

To unlock the heart, and let it speak? 

Are even lovers powerless to reveal 

To one another what indeed they feel? 

I knew the mass of men conceal'd 

Their thoughts, for fear that if reveal'd 

They would by other men be met 

With blank indifference, or with blame reproved; 

I knew they lived and moved 

Trick'd in disguises, alien to the rest 

Of men, and alien to themselves—and yet 

The same heart beats in every human breast! 

But we, my love!—doth a like spell benumb 

Our hearts, our voices?—must we too be dumb? 

Ah! well for us, if even we, 

Even for a moment, can get free 

Our heart, and have our lips unchain'd; 

For that which seals them hath been deep-ordain'd! 

Fate, which foresaw 

How frivolous a baby man would be— 

By what distractions he would be possess'd, 

How he would pour himself in every strife, 

And well-nigh change his own identity— 

That it might keep from his capricious play 

His genuine self, and force him to obey 

Even in his own despite his being's law, 

Bade through the deep recesses of our breast 

The unregarded river of our life 

Pursue with indiscernible flow its way; 

And that we should not see 

The buried stream, and seem to be 

Eddying at large in blind uncertainty, 

Though driving on with it eternally. 

But often, in the world's most crowded streets, 

But often, in the din of strife, 

There rises an unspeakable desire 

After the knowledge of our buried life; 

A thirst to spend our fire and restless force 

In tracking out our true, original course; 

A longing to inquire 

Into the mystery of this heart which beats 

So wild, so deep in us—to know 

Whence our lives come and where they go. 

And many a man in his own breast then delves, 

But deep enough, alas! none ever mines. 

And we have been on many thousand lines, 

And we have shown, on each, spirit and power; 

But hardly have we, for one little hour, 

Been on our own line, have we been ourselves— 

Hardly had skill to utter one of all 

The nameless feelings that course through our breast, 

But they course on for ever unexpress'd. 

And long we try in vain to speak and act 

Our hidden self, and what we say and do 

Is eloquent, is well—but 't is not true! 

And then we will no more be rack'd 

With inward striving, and demand 

Of all the thousand nothings of the hour 

Their stupefying power; 

Ah yes, and they benumb us at our call! 

Yet still, from time to time, vague and forlorn, 

From the soul's subterranean depth upborne 

As from an infinitely distant land, 

Come airs, and floating echoes, and convey 

A melancholy into all our day. 

Only—but this is rare— 

When a belovèd hand is laid in ours, 

When, jaded with the rush and glare 

Of the interminable hours, 

Our eyes can in another's eyes read clear, 

When our world-deafen'd ear 

Is by the tones of a loved voice caress'd— 

A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast, 

And a lost pulse of feeling stirs again. 

The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain, 

And what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know. 

A man becomes aware of his life's flow, 

And hears its winding murmur; and he sees 

The meadows where it glides, the sun, the breeze. 

And there arrives a lull in the hot race 

Wherein he doth for ever chase 

That flying and elusive shadow, rest. 

An air of coolness plays upon his face, 

And an unwonted calm pervades his breast. 

And then he thinks he knows 

The hills where his life rose, 

And the sea where it goes. 

[violettesiren]

Let March now blush with blossom brief and white Of Mary-bud upon the hem of snow, Against my cheek make petal-tangled light To stave from Maytime fires my senses slow.

Let fritillaries flutter to a bank Tasting new sun against a frame of ice, And venturesome returning groesbecks flank A sodden cloud; let winter's sacrifice

Be hesitant, yet let pale April rise Lovely and slowly out of sleep, And let the coldness mirrored in her eyes Turn into silver prelude at my feet,

And daffodils and irises, star-flowers, Like candles multiple and burning long Above the grassy ocean of the hours, Placating stormy voices, be upborne.

Then let me stand, perpendent in the sun, Rooted in snow, my fingers dripping fire, And feel the lightning quiver in my bone And hear the crashing thunder of desire.

Slow Spring by Ardell Cardon

[lailoken]

'A Call Unto the Dark Man'

“Unto the aspirant who desires to cross the threshold to the old way of the witch, or unto the witch who, in a time of need, seeks the aid of the Old One, or to renew their compact upon the path of Return; I offer the following rite. Set forth, alone, to some secret and special place away from the intrusion of human activities and prying eyes. This journey, on foot, must be undertaken as a meditative act in itself, and one must be acutely open to any signs, omens or uncanny presences, subtle or not so, that may present themselves in the landscape through which you pass. This must be so, for it is known that once one has made the decision to call upon him, the Dark Man may choose to pre-empt any ritual or conjuration by making an appearance, before such an act can be attempted, in either human or bestial form. When the secret place has been reached, a circle, or working ring, must in some manner be marked upon the ground, be it inscribed in the earth, set out by a good length of cord, marked by chalk, or by any other means. The ring must be large enough to encompass a space within which one can both kneel down, and circumnambulate about a small central fire. There, build and light the fire, and begin a slow, backward pace about it in the direction against the sun; the journey to the left, until the Lord's Prayer has thrice been spoken backwards:

Nema.

Reve dna reve rof, yrolg eht dna, rewop eht, modgnik eht si eniht rof,

Live morf su reviled tub, noitatpmet otni ton su dael dna.

Su tsniaga ssapsert taht meht evigrof ew sa, sessapsert ruo su evigrof dna.

Daerb yliad ruo yad siht su evig.

Nevaeh ni si ti sa, htrea ni enod eb lliw yth.

Emoc modgnik yht.

Eman yht eb dewollah, nevaeh ni tra hcihw, rehtaf ruo.

Upon the completion of this, kneel in genuflection before the fire, facing the north, and, using the left hand, cast into the flames a handful of elder, thistle and mugwort. Into the rising smoke speak these words:

Here encompassed at the Cross of the Ways, upborne upon the fire of my Will, out into evenfall's gloam my call and spell; O Dark One, Intecessor, Robin, Old Janicot!

Deliver Me!

I call for thy visitation as of old, by vision, dream or manifest form, come thou!

By guise of man, dark-hooded or hatted, by hound, or crow, by goat, bull or walking toad; blackened all and bearing light, come thou!

Meet me upon wooded aisle, lonely stile, at thorny hedge or stream's edge, Here or there, now or then, come ye forth!

Aid and enjoin me in hallowed compact.

From all workers of evil, oppression, slander and deceit deliver me!

From all misery and fear save me!

For I am a child of the serpent seed.

Opener of the hidden and crooked way, set me upon and illumine the path of return; the old path of One and All possibility!

My guide and dark companion clad of night, saviour and beacon-light! 

Deliver me! Deliver me! Deliver me!

Remain there, waiting, watching, listening, within the circle until the fire has burnt away. The Man in Black's visitation may there occur via his physical presence, in human or bestial guise, or via vision, or some sign manifest in the forms, sounds and movements of the surrounding land. The encounter may occur at another time, at another place, in dream or the waking world, but when and in whatever manner, following the sincere working of this rite, occur it shall.”

—

The Devil’s Dozen:

Thirteen Craft Rites of the Old One

by Gemma Gary

[sbnkalny]

I want to feel murderous.

[thatsnotcanonpodcasts]

The Mask Of Anarchy by Percy Bysshe Shelley read by Zane C Weber

The Mask Of Anarchy by Percy Bysshe Shelley

    1.

    As I lay asleep in Italy

    There came a voice from over the Sea,

    And with great power it forth led me

    To walk in the visions of Poesy.

    2.

    I met Murder on the way -

    He had a mask like Castlereagh -

    Very smooth he looked, yet grim;

    Seven blood-hounds followed him:

    3.

    All were fat; and well they might

    Be in admirable plight,

    For one by one, and two by two,

    He tossed them human hearts to chew

    Which from his wide cloak he drew.

    4.

    Next came Fraud, and he had on,

    Like Eldon, an ermined gown;

    His big tears, for he wept well,

    Turned to mill-stones as they fell.

    5.

    And the little children, who

    Round his feet played to and fro,

    Thinking every tear a gem,

    Had their brains knocked out by them.

    6.

    Clothed with the Bible, as with light,

    And the shadows of the night,

    Like Sidmouth, next, Hypocrisy

    On a crocodile rode by.

    7.

    And many more Destructions played

    In this ghastly masquerade,

    All disguised, even to the eyes,

    Like Bishops, lawyers, peers, or spies.

    8.

    Last came Anarchy: he rode

    On a white horse, splashed with blood;

    He was pale even to the lips,

    Like Death in the Apocalypse.

    9.

    And he wore a kingly crown;

    And in his grasp a sceptre shone;

    On his brow this mark I saw -

    'I AM GOD, AND KING, AND LAW!'

    10.

    With a pace stately and fast,

    Over English land he passed,

    Trampling to a mire of blood

    The adoring multitude.

    11.

    And a mighty troop around,

    With their trampling shook the ground,

    Waving each a bloody sword,

    For the service of their Lord.

    12.

    And with glorious triumph, they

    Rode through England proud and gay,

    Drunk as with intoxication

    Of the wine of desolation.

    13.

    O'er fields and towns, from sea to sea,

    Passed the Pageant swift and free,

    Tearing up, and trampling down;

    Till they came to London town.

    14.

    And each dweller, panic-stricken,

    Felt his heart with terror sicken

    Hearing the tempestuous cry

    Of the triumph of Anarchy.

    15.

    For with pomp to meet him came,

    Clothed in arms like blood and flame,

    The hired murderers, who did sing

    'Thou art God, and Law, and King.

    16.

    'We have waited, weak and lone

    For thy coming, Mighty One!

    Our purses are empty, our swords are cold,

    Give us glory, and blood, and gold.'

    17.

    Lawyers and priests, a motley crowd,

    To the earth their pale brows bowed;

    Like a bad prayer not over loud,

    Whispering - 'Thou art Law and God.' -

    18.

    Then all cried with one accord,

    'Thou art King, and God, and Lord;

    Anarchy, to thee we bow,

    Be thy name made holy now!'

    19.

    And Anarchy, the Skeleton,

    Bowed and grinned to every one,

    As well as if his education

    Had cost ten millions to the nation.

    20.

    For he knew the Palaces

    Of our Kings were rightly his;

    His the sceptre, crown, and globe,

    And the gold-inwoven robe.

    21.

    So he sent his slaves before

    To seize upon the Bank and Tower,

    And was proceeding with intent

    To meet his pensioned Parliament

    22.

    When one fled past, a maniac maid,

    And her name was Hope, she said:

    But she looked more like Despair,

    And she cried out in the air:

    23.

    'My father Time is weak and gray

    With waiting for a better day;

    See how idiot-like he stands,

    Fumbling with his palsied hands!

    24.

    'He has had child after child,

    And the dust of death is piled

    Over every one but me -

    Misery, oh, Misery!'

    25.

    Then she lay down in the street,

    Right before the horses' feet,

    Expecting, with a patient eye,

    Murder, Fraud, and Anarchy.

    26.

    When between her and her foes

    A mist, a light, an image rose,

    Small at first, and weak, and frail

    Like the vapour of a vale:

    27.

    Till as clouds grow on the blast,

    Like tower-crowned giants striding fast,

    And glare with lightnings as they fly,

    And speak in thunder to the sky,

    28.

    It grew - a Shape arrayed in mail

    Brighter than the viper's scale,

    And upborne on wings whose grain

    Was as the light of sunny rain.

    29.

    On its helm, seen far away,

    A planet, like the Morning's, lay;

    And those plumes its light rained through

    Like a shower of crimson dew.

    30.

    With step as soft as wind it passed

    O'er the heads of men - so fast

    That they knew the presence there,

    And looked, - but all was empty air.

    31.

    As flowers beneath May's footstep waken,

    As stars from Night's loose hair are shaken,

    As waves arise when loud winds call,

    Thoughts sprung where'er that step did fall.

    32.

    And the prostrate multitude

    Looked - and ankle-deep in blood,

    Hope, that maiden most serene,

    Was walking with a quiet mien:

    33.

    And Anarchy, the ghastly birth,

    Lay dead earth upon the earth;

    The Horse of Death tameless as wind

    Fled, and with his hoofs did grind

    To dust the murderers thronged behind.

    34.

    A rushing light of clouds and splendour,

    A sense awakening and yet tender

    Was heard and felt - and at its close

    These words of joy and fear arose

    35.

    As if their own indignant Earth

    Which gave the sons of England birth

    Had felt their blood upon her brow,

    And shuddering with a mother's throe

    36.

    Had turned every drop of blood

    By which her face had been bedewed

    To an accent unwithstood, -

    As if her heart had cried aloud:

    37.

    'Men of England, heirs of Glory,

    Heroes of unwritten story,

    Nurslings of one mighty Mother,

    Hopes of her, and one another;

    38.

    'Rise like Lions after slumber

    In unvanquishable number,

    Shake your chains to earth like dew

    Which in sleep had fallen on you -

    Ye are many - they are few.

    39.

    'What is Freedom? - ye can tell

    That which slavery is, too well -

    For its very name has grown

    To an echo of your own.

    40.

    ''Tis to work and have such pay

    As just keeps life from day to day

    In your limbs, as in a cell

    For the tyrants' use to dwell,

    41.

    'So that ye for them are made

    Loom, and plough, and sword, and spade,

    With or without your own will bent

    To their defence and nourishment.

    42.

    ''Tis to see your children weak

    With their mothers pine and peak,

    When the winter winds are bleak, -

    They are dying whilst I speak.

    43.

    ''Tis to hunger for such diet

    As the rich man in his riot

    Casts to the fat dogs that lie

    Surfeiting beneath his eye;

    44.

    ''Tis to let the Ghost of Gold

    Take from Toil a thousandfold

    More than e'er its substance could

    In the tyrannies of old.

    45.

    'Paper coin - that forgery

    Of the title-deeds, which ye

    Hold to something of the worth

    Of the inheritance of Earth.

    46.

    ''Tis to be a slave in soul

    And to hold no strong control

    Over your own wills, but be

    All that others make of ye.

    47.

    'And at length when ye complain

    With a murmur weak and vain

    'Tis to see the Tyrant's crew

    Ride over your wives and you

    Blood is on the grass like dew.

    48.

    'Then it is to feel revenge

    Fiercely thirsting to exchange

    Blood for blood - and wrong for wrong -

    Do not thus when ye are strong.

    49.

    'Birds find rest, in narrow nest

    When weary of their winged quest;

    Beasts find fare, in woody lair

    When storm and snow are in the air.

    50.

    'Asses, swine, have litter spread

    And with fitting food are fed;

    All things have a home but one -

    Thou, Oh, Englishman, hast none!

    51.

    'This is Slavery - savage men,

    Or wild beasts within a den

    Would endure not as ye do -

    But such ills they never knew.

    52.

    'What art thou Freedom? O! could slaves

    Answer from their living graves

    This demand - tyrants would flee

    Like a dream's dim imagery:

    53.

    'Thou art not, as impostors say,

    A shadow soon to pass away,

    A superstition, and a name

    Echoing from the cave of Fame.

    54.

    'For the labourer thou art bread,

    And a comely table spread

    From his daily labour come

    In a neat and happy home.

    55.

    Thou art clothes, and fire, and food

    For the trampled multitude -

    No - in countries that are free

    Such starvation cannot be

    As in England now we see.

    56.

    'To the rich thou art a check,

    When his foot is on the neck

    Of his victim, thou dost make

    That he treads upon a snake.

    57.

    Thou art Justice - ne'er for gold

    May thy righteous laws be sold

    As laws are in England - thou

    Shield'st alike the high and low.

    58.

    'Thou art Wisdom - Freemen never

    Dream that God will damn for ever

    All who think those things untrue

    Of which Priests make such ado.

    59.

    'Thou art Peace - never by thee

    Would blood and treasure wasted be

    As tyrants wasted them, when all

    Leagued to quench thy flame in Gaul.

    60.

    'What if English toil and blood

    Was poured forth, even as a flood?

    It availed, Oh, Liberty,

    To dim, but not extinguish thee.

    61.

    'Thou art Love - the rich have kissed

    Thy feet, and like him following Christ,

    Give their substance to the free

    And through the rough world follow thee,

    62.

    'Or turn their wealth to arms, and make

    War for thy beloved sake

    On wealth, and war, and fraud - whence they

    Drew the power which is their prey.

    63.

    'Science, Poetry, and Thought

    Are thy lamps; they make the lot

    Of the dwellers in a cot

    So serene, they curse it not.

    64.

    'Spirit, Patience, Gentleness,

    All that can adorn and bless

    Art thou - let deeds, not words, express

    Thine exceeding loveliness.

    65.

    'Let a great Assembly be

    Of the fearless and the free

    On some spot of English ground

    Where the plains stretch wide around.

    66.

    'Let the blue sky overhead,

    The green earth on which ye tread,

    All that must eternal be

    Witness the solemnity.

    67.

    'From the corners uttermost

    Of the bounds of English coast;

    From every hut, village, and town

    Where those who live and suffer moan

    For others' misery or their own,

    68.

    'From the workhouse and the prison

    Where pale as corpses newly risen,

    Women, children, young and old

    Groan for pain, and weep for cold -

    69.

    'From the haunts of daily life

    Where is waged the daily strife

    With common wants and common cares

    Which sows the human heart with tares -

    70.

    'Lastly from the palaces

    Where the murmur of distress

    Echoes, like the distant sound

    Of a wind alive around

    71.

    'Those prison halls of wealth and fashion,

    Where some few feel such compassion

    For those who groan, and toil, and wail

    As must make their brethren pale -

    72.

    'Ye who suffer woes untold,

    Or to feel, or to behold

    Your lost country bought and sold

    With a price of blood and gold -

    73.

    'Let a vast assembly be,

    And with great solemnity

    Declare with measured words that ye

    Are, as God has made ye, free -

    74.

    'Be your strong and simple words

    Keen to wound as sharpened swords,

    And wide as targes let them be,

    With their shade to cover ye.

    75.

    'Let the tyrants pour around

    With a quick and startling sound,

    Like the loosening of a sea,

    Troops of armed emblazonry.

    76.

    'Let the charged artillery drive

    Till the dead air seems alive

    With the clash of clanging wheels,

    And the tramp of horses' heels.

    77.

    'Let the fixed bayonet

    Gleam with sharp desire to wet

    Its bright point in English blood

    Looking keen as one for food.

    78.

    Let the horsemen's scimitars

    Wheel and flash, like sphereless stars

    Thirsting to eclipse their burning

    In a sea of death and mourning.

    79.

    'Stand ye calm and resolute,

    Like a forest close and mute,

    With folded arms and looks which are

    Weapons of unvanquished war,

    80.

    'And let Panic, who outspeeds

    The career of armed steeds

    Pass, a disregarded shade

    Through your phalanx undismayed.

    81.

    'Let the laws of your own land,

    Good or ill, between ye stand

    Hand to hand, and foot to foot,

    Arbiters of the dispute,

    82.

    'The old laws of England - they

    Whose reverend heads with age are gray,

    Children of a wiser day;

    And whose solemn voice must be

    Thine own echo - Liberty!

    83.

    'On those who first should violate

    Such sacred heralds in their state

    Rest the blood that must ensue,

    And it will not rest on you.

    84.

    'And if then the tyrants dare

    Let them ride among you there,

    Slash, and stab, and maim, and hew, -

    What they like, that let them do.

    85.

    'With folded arms and steady eyes,

    And little fear, and less surprise,

    Look upon them as they slay

    Till their rage has died away.

    86.

    Then they will return with shame

    To the place from which they came,

    And the blood thus shed will speak

    In hot blushes on their cheek.

    87.

    'Every woman in the land

    Will point at them as they stand -

    They will hardly dare to greet

    Their acquaintance in the street.

    88.

    'And the bold, true warriors

    Who have hugged Danger in wars

    Will turn to those who would be free,

    Ashamed of such base company.

    89.

    'And that slaughter to the Nation

    Shall steam up like inspiration,

    Eloquent, oracular;

    A volcano heard afar.

    90.

    'And these words shall then become

    Like Oppression's thundered doom

    Ringing through each heart and brain,

    Heard again - again - again -

      91.

    'Rise like Lions after slumber

    In unvanquishable number -

    Shake your chains to earth like dew

    Which in sleep had fallen on you -

    Ye are many - they are few.'

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[slrichards]

I The fancy I had today, Fancy which turned a fear! I swam far out in the bay, Since waves laughed warm and clear. II I lay and looked at the sun, The noon-sun looked at me: Between us two, no one Live creature, that I could see. III Yes! There came floating by Me, who lay floating too, Such a strange butterfly! Creature as dear as new: IV Because the membraned wings So wonderful, so wide, So sun-suffused, were things Like soul and naught beside. V A handbreadth over head! All of the sea my own, It owned the sky instead; Both of us were alone. VI I never shall join its flight, For, naught buoys flesh in air. If it touch the sea — good-night! Death sure and swift waits there. VII Can the insect feel the better For watching the uncouth play Of limbs that slip the fetter, Pretend as they were not clay? VIII Undoubtedly I rejoice That the air comports so well With a creature which had the choice Of the land once. Who can tell? IX What if a certain soul Which early slipped its sheath, And has for its home the whole Of heaven, thus look beneath, X Thus watch one who, in the world, Both lives and likes life's way, Nor wishes the wings unfurled That sleep in the worm, they say? XI But sometimes when the weather Is blue, and warm waves tempt To free oneself of tether, And try a life exempt XII From worldly noise and dust, In the sphere which overbrims With passion and thought, — why, just Unable to fly, one swims! XIII By passion and thought upborne, One smiles to oneself — " They fare Scarce better, they need not scorn Our sea, who live in the air!" XIV Emancipate through passion And thought, with sea for sky, We substitute, in a fashion, For heaven — poetry: XV Which sea, to all intent, Gives flesh such noon-disport As a finer element Affords the spirit-sort. XVI Whatever they are, we seem: Imagine the thing they know; All deeds they do, we dream; Can heaven be else but so? XVII And meantime, yonder streak Meets the horizon's verge; That is the land, to seek If we tire or dread the surge: XVIII Land the solid and safe — To welcome again (confess!) When, high and dry, we chafe The body, and don the dress. XIX Does she look, pity, wonder At one who mimics flight, Swims — heaven above, sea under, Yet always earth in sight?

“Amphibian” by Robert Browning, 1872

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“Nothing rascal to me”)

Nothing rascal to me. Not for you, excel: for if you wide chasm of the worke I proves to sing’ or Regent, with the gate, had held till an iceberg it matter now? Nor the fault was God, I think, this universal and to stagnates bud for for thee, dear or two torn apart from the dull scene, but from the bloom go I!—But never arose from the brim, wakes they saw not worth her casement, wounded scythe torrent off my beloved. Yet may express when June for her a glasses zither lovely gazed upon the sun. Depth upborne as from harmony, from Evil—and groves, who bade throat.

[graywyvern]

( via / via )

People visiting a museum of old smartphones, in 2060.

"Through the gas house district the car carried him, where the darkness was lighted up by crimson and orange pencils of flame from all-night foundries; past mammoth gas tanks which loomed black against a slate-gray, star-studded sky; past silent coal yards lighted only by low old-fashioned lamp posts whose square glass globes were so encrusted with coal dust that they gave scarcely any light; over a railroad viaduct where, far down below, a snorting, puffing switch engine could be seen playing hide and seek with thousands of twinkling and blinking red-and-green yard lights; and into the western fringe of the downtown district once more, lighted by four or five street lights to every block." --The Face of the Man from Saturn

The Kraken.

Versions of Vergil (VI. 125-136)

Gentle is the journey down to Hades (by night and day the door of dark Dis gapes); but to take back your stepping and escape to the upper breezes, that's the work--this task. A few whom jovial Jupiter had loved, or ardent courage lifted to the skies, god-born, could.         Gliding Cocytus circles a gloomy valley, and every kind of forest occupies the middle.         But if you have so much love of heart, if so much lust twice to sail on Stygian lakes, to see midnight Tartarus--twice, and with outrageous hardship, it's any use to grant,

accept what harrowings precede.

--mine (1984)

Then thus replied the prophetess divine: "O goddess-born of great Anchises' line, The gates of hell are open night and day; Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labour lies. To few great Jupiter imparts this grace, And those of shining worth and heavenly race, Betwixt those regions and our upper light, Deep forests and impenetrable night Possess the middle space: th' infernal bounds Cocytus, with his sable waves, surrounds. But if so dire a love your soul invades, As twice below to view the trembling shades; If you so hard a toil will undertake, As twice to pass th' innavigable lake: Receive my counsel."

--Dryden (1697)

"Son of Anchises, born of blood divine," The priestess thus began, "easy the way Down to Avernus: night and day the gates Of Dis stand open. But to retrace thy steps And reach the upper air, --here lies the task, The difficulty here. A few by Jove, Beloved, or to ethereal heights upborne By virtue's force, sons of the gods, The labor have achieved. Midway thick woods The passage bar, and, winding all about, Cocytus' black and sinuous river glides. But if such strong desire be thine, to float Twice o'er the Stygian lake; if the mad task Delights thee, twice to see the gloomy realms Of Tartarus--then learn what must first be done."

--C P Cranch (1872)

Space bar scene.

"Because to me, fantasy isn’t wishful thinking, but a way of reflecting, and reflecting on reality." --@ursulabot

Art car.

[gcmyers]

New World Symphony

New World Symphony– Part of the June 2022 Principle Gallery Show But first whom shall we send In search of this new world, whom shall we find Sufficient? Who shall tempt, with wand’ring feet The dark unbottomed infinite abyss And through the palpable obscure find out His uncouth way, or spread his aery flight Upborne with indefatigable wings Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive The happy isle? ―…