#poets artists and masks

[swallowerofdharma]

EL REGRESO

El regreso para morir es grande.

(Lo dijo con su aventurar el rey de Ítaca).

Mas amo el sol de mi patria,

El venado rojo que corre por los cerros,

Y las nobles voces de la tarde que fueron

Mi familia.

Mejor morir sin que nadie

Lamente glorias matinales, lejos

Del verano querido donde conocí dioses.

Todo para que mi imagen pasada

Sea la última fábula de la casa.

Jorge Gaitán Durán (Colombia, 1924-1962)

Further reading

[swallowerofdharma]

testo integrale X

I’d rather a woman did something so hyperbolically mean and nasty and over the top that she horrifies herself down her marrow and spends the rest of her life deciding how to relate to the good hard look she got of herself in that moment than spend her life hiding and pretending to be good, the sooner you can appreciate the full scope of your own capacity for cruelty the better, if you haven’t hit bedrock yet keep digging, you’ll find it.

[the-concrete-sage]

Two Faced

I didn’t have a life

And clearly you do

You are the forefront of my mind

I’m barely a passing thought to you

I’m naturally over invested

It the curse of my being

Forever last selected

Always excusing what I’m feeling

You’re not a real person

A figment of my imagination

The apex of my delusion

Subpar solution to isolation

All stressors you surpass

Where I fall to self doubt

You persist to the last

You, my mask, I can’t live without

[saint-inky]

peter pan stunted

waiting to be wanted

fumbling the messages

and ending up collected

forgetting what i meant when

i said that i dont need them

but even if i see the heat

i cant defeat the season

unreasonably feeble

for the shoes i put my feet in

craving safer meaning

feeling seen and then unseen then

im seeing deeper, dreaming,

failing, seeking, crying, sleeping,

waking, wanting, asking, finding

people asking the same things

and wond’ring

if the question was the answer

and the feelings never mattered

and i cry again but this time

i dont ask for help, i stammer

planting hands under my shoulders

holding firmly and unfolding

trying to be open, hoping

no one noticed all the groaning

they were so impressed and going

on about the dressings and my

mess obscured by manicures

and all the words i stress

i heard the men saying i wept

i burned the hate inside my chest

i turned and walked away

today thats still what i do at my best

-murray frogman

[elmp]

Goalie Mask Murder Dance

Remembering when

Keith said "Spare only the ones

I love...slay the rest."

[iimexpensiive]

While he doesn't really indulge in his hobbies anymore; Wukong does love to paint. When he gets random burst of energy, he will spend the day painting murals around his hide-out; usually of his old home and such. He will also sometimes write poetry or such as well; though he hasn't written any in a long time and would rather not given his mood.

[writerighthere]

1 of 2

I did two versions of this one.

Let me know which one is better.

[purekatastrophe]

but thank you so much for sharing!!! I love dressing up!

[milomagic]

strange creature

[swallowerofdharma]

To acquire the full consciousness of self is to know oneself so different from others that one no longer feels allied with men except by purely animal contacts: nevertheless, among souls of this degree, there is an ideal fraternity based on differences,—while social fraternity is based on resemblances. The full consciousness of self can be called originality of soul,—and all this is said only to point out the group of rare beings to which André Gide belongs. The misfortune of these beings, when they wish to express themselves, is that they do it with such odd gestures that men fear to approach them; their life of social contacts must often revolve in the brief circle of ideal fraternities; or, when the mob consents to admit such souls, it is as curiosities or museum objects. Their glory is, finally, to be loved from afar and almost understood, as parchments are seen and read above sealed glass cases.

Remy De Gourmont, The Book Of Masks, translated by Jack Lewis

[llamagoddessofficial]

The times you write about Dream is so cute, are you free to write romantic headcanons of him?

HOHOO I'm glad you like my spin on Dream! Here's some headcanons about him.

Elegant, polite, serene, refined. Early morning sunshine and clear freshwater lakes. He's a prince for sure, and he'll make you feel like royalty with the way he courts you.

He's got a way with words; his brother's an artist at heart, but he's always been a poet. He knows how to make you melt, how to weave sonnets that leave you sputtering and swooning.

(You'll know you're the one for him, because you're the only one that can leave him speechless~)

He likes nature. He doesn't often actually get to see the things that he works so hard to save from his brother. Flowers, animals, even just looking at the clouds in the sky can bring him peace - he'd be a good walking partner.

He's terrible at gardening though.

Sometimes he needs comforting. It's so hard. He's so tired. Your arms are the only place he gets any rest, anymore.

He's an excellent musician! Very adept at multiple instruments. He'll serenade you with delicate verses, if you'll only let him.

He doesn't particularly like using his abilities to make you feel positive emotions. He will, however, soothe aches and pains for you, and if you wake up in the night he'll be more than happy to dispel bad dreams and help you back to sleep.

All that being said...

... He does have something of a superiority complex. When you're literally a God, it's hard not to. He hides it very well, because he knows it's not acceptable, but it's not always easy to mask. You're his darling, the light of his life, you and him are simply 'better' than the simpletons of the other aus. Sometimes it slips through.

That's not all, either.

... A lot of Dream's gentlemanly behaviours are his ways of dealing with very dark thoughts and desires. He and Nightmare are cut from the same cloth, after all. The only difference between the brothers is Nightmare chooses to indulge at the expense of others - and Dream knows that. He knows he's only a few bad deeds away from becoming his brother. He's compensating by acting extra good and kind.

Just like Nightmare, Dream is prone to jealousy and possessiveness. It's extremely hard to tell when he's jealous because he masks it with even more politeness and kindness. He already lost one person dear to him, he deeply fears losing you as well. When his smile is just that bit wider and his fingers wrap around your shoulder with just a little too much deliberateness, it might be time to go home.

He claims he never uses his emotion powers because they're draining for him. That's not the truth.

He won't tell you, but the reason he resists using them on you is he fears what he might do when he feels how easy it is to stop you from leaving him.

[the-concrete-sage]

Thou art ye nameless…

How is it even possible that just one person can make you feel like shit? Like nothings worth it and you just want to quit.

All the talk of my potential doesn’t make me feel any less inconsequential.

FYI I’m not contemplating suicide just romancing the idea of the sweet release if I were to die.

No harsh words have been spoken yet my gut is screaming “this shit is broken!”

[sadnymi]

The Tortured Poets Department: {Slytherin boys version} A Headcanon.

[Mattheo Riddle-Theodore Nott-Lorenzo Berkshire-Blaise Zabini-Draco Malfoy

The Department: These five delinquents may not be penning sonnets, but they cause enough drama to fill a Shakespearean tragedy. They're the rebels, and champions of chaos at Hogwarts.

The Name:  name, bestowed upon them by Professor Abraxas Rookwood, a man as obsessed with forbidden muggle literature as he was with the Dark Arts, was a cruel irony. Rookwood, with his melancholic readings of Byron and Shelley, saw their broodiness reflected in these young Slytherins, They became the Tortured Poets, their "poetry" scrawled not with ink, but with blood and fear.

The Rules (Unbreakable):

Loyalty is Our Blood Oath: Mess with one of them, you mess with all of them. This unwavering loyalty is their foundation.Betrayal is a fate worse than expulsion. A single transgression could result in a "disappearance," a fate worse than Azkaban.

Secrets are sacred currency: What's shared in the dimly lit corners of the Department stays there. Unless it involves a particularly juicy Ministry scandal, then all bets are off (courtesy of Blaise Zabini's insatiable gossip appetite).

Darkness is a double-edged sword: They embraced their darkness, honing it into a weapon against those who deserved it - revel in darkness too long, and it devours you whole.

Art over Arson: Destruction wasn't the goal. The Department aimed to leave their mark with a touch of twisted artistry.A perfectly sculpted ice sculpture of a screaming victim, a whispered poem etched on a sleeping rival's forehead, a haunting melody tinged with despair echoing through the halls.

No Scars: The mark of a Tortured Poet was discretion. Leaving physical evidence was a rookie mistake. The true artist left only a shattered spirit.

No Outsiders: The Department is a closed casket. New members are hand-picked, tested, and broken before being deemed worthy.

Never Love, Only Possess: Love is a weakness, a vulnerability they cannot afford. Possession, domination – these are the true expressions of power. ( a rule they all broke )

The Members:

- Mattheo "The Mastermind" Riddle:

The brains behind the operation. Heir to a dark legacy, Mattheo possessed a chilling charisma that masked a calculating mind. He wielded curses with grace, his voice a silken threat, capable of weaving hypnotic lies or unleashing venomous truths. Mattheo is cunning and calculating, always two steps ahead with a plan so outlandish it just might work. He's the one who assigns roles and ensures their targets get a taste of their own medicine (or worse).He embodies the darkness, a shadow that chills even the bravest hearts.

Theodore "The Artist" Nott:

With a talent for manipulating shadows, Theo could create phantoms that danced on the walls, whispering secrets and igniting paranoia. brewed potions that twisted emotions and conjured illusions that blurred the lines between reality and nightmare. His signature move: A shroud of darkness that swallowed the victim, leaving them alone with their inner demons. He was also The department's strategist. His mind, as sharp as a serpent's fang, weaved intricate webs of psychological manipulation.He took a perverse pleasure in dissecting his victims, unraveling their secrets with a chilling detachment.

Lorenzo "The Charmer" Berkshire:

The Charmer. Lorenzo's weapon of choice is not a wand, but his silver tongue. He can disarm with a smile and deceive with a single word. Information is his currency, secrets his trophies. He is the Department's siren, luring the unsuspecting into a web of lies. tongue that could weave illusions as real as dreams. His victims, lulled into a false sense of security, often found themselves entangled in compromising situations or facing fabricated scandals.

Blaise "The Blackmailer" Zabini:

Blaise has a knack for finding dirt on everyone and isn't afraid to use it to his advantage .He's the one who gathers intel and makes sure no one double-crosses the Tortured Poets. He was the Shadow Dancer. Elusive and acrobatic, Blaise was the Department's phantom. He could infiltrate even the most secure locations, leaving behind unsettling calling cards – a misplaced object, a cryptic message scrawled on a dusty window pane.

Draco "The Distraction" Malfoy:

Draco was the prodigy, a master of forbidden spells before he even reached adulthood. His talent fueled a quiet arrogance, but his loyalty to the group was undeniable. He was their muscle, the unleashed storm of magic when subtlety failed.He saw emotions as a map, effortlessly navigating the labyrinthine corridors of fear and hope.

◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢

The Tortured Poets Department existed in the shadows of Hogwarts, a clandestine group teetering on the edge of sanity. They were not poets, but dark artists, sculpting fear and pain into a twisted form of power, a chilling testament to the allure and danger that lurks in the human heart.

◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢

[pmamtraveller]

JEAN LEON GEROME - PYGMALION AND GALATEA, 1890

The tale of Pygmalion is recounted in Metamorphoses, a Latin narrative poem from 8 AD by the Roman poet Ovid. In Ovid's narrative, Pygmalion is a monarch and artist who becomes enamored with a figure of his own making: a statue of a woman carved from ivory. To fulfil his longing, Aphrodite, the deity of love, animates the statue. This woman, known as Galatea, reciprocates Pygmalion’s affection, and they wed.

The central element in Gérôme’s artwork is Galatea’s body. Her change is evident: her lower legs are stark white, as they stay like stone. Her upper legs and torso have already changed, revealed by the pinkish tint of skin. It is an uncanny sight: the realms of classical mythology and ancient times blend with Gérôme’s personal reality

Galatea’s body contorts into a serpentine form, her hands gently searching for those of Pygmalion, whose coarse skin and sturdy figure stand in stark contrast to the femininity of her portrayal. The bold, sensual nudity of Galatea is further highlighted by the contrasting depiction of Pygmalion, whose figure is obscured by garments and shadow.

The intensity of this moment is amplified by positioning Galatea’s luminous white figure atop a pedestal; Gérôme mirrors the impact of stage lighting in a theater or cabaret. Again, to the right of the figures, there are two faces resembling ancient classical masks that were used to convey either a tragic or comedic performance. A putti surrounded by a swirl of clouds floats next to the couple, poised to unleash his bow of love and bind their desires eternally.

[liyawritesss]

ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ + ᴄʟᴀꜱꜱɪᴄ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀꜱ

-> synopsis: there's no denying that Jason Todd Is the intellectual boyfriend we all crave - so let's take a peek into his repertoire and see what are some of his favorite black artists, authors, and philosophers!

         -> characters: Jason Todd | Red Hood

-> from: batman universe

         -> contains: can be read as either pre- or post lazarus pit, 3rd person

-> a/n: here's the first hc post from the batman poll i did! currently taking an intro to black writers class, and I wanted to make a spin on some classics I think Jason would like, specifically from black contemporaries from the like late 1800's to the 1990's. And yes, I know these authors and stories dont necessarily tie in to the canon timeline of things - I honestly just wanted to have fun with this, so please take it with a grain of salt, and if you don't like it or find yourself wanting to comment something mean, just scroll! Save us both the commotion.

         -> join my taglist!

-> tags: @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @marsfunzon22 @briology @asensitivecookie @moon-bo-young @flo-milli-shit-hoe @romiantic @shuinami @badass-dora-milaje @uranometrias @insomniac-jay @punkeropercyjackson

      -> Paul Lawrence-Dunbar

             -> dunbar was a young novelist, writer, and poet during the 1880's and 1890's. His writing style is distinct with dialect, which earned him a lot of criticism despite his much popular portrayal of black life in southern America after the end of slavery. A lot of the tone in his pieces depict that of the African Americans struggle for survival post-slavery, as without adequate resources to gain their footing into society, the formerly enslaved were left to fend for themselves. What a lot of people at the time missed in his writings - and what Jason actually gravitates towards - is the fact that his particular style is actually intentional. It acts as a reclamation of what was mocked and dehumanized, reinstating power into it in a way that seems regressive, but is more powerfully progressive in retrospect. ‘Sympathy’ was a poem he didn’t know he needed until he read it, and now he either has the poem taped on his wall somewhere or it’s written/screenshotted in his notes on his phone. Similarly, he finds that the poem ‘We Wear The Mask’ is an allegory to the path he himself has taken.

      -> “Passing” by Nella Larsen

  -> this novel tells the story of two colored women - Irene and Clare - and how they navigate the world with the ability to pass as white women. There’s so much that goes into this novel, from the question of race as a moral ground, sexuality in the form of envy, the loss of community when one crosses the racial lines…. I feel like jason would love this book DOWN, the complexities and intricacies are right up his alley. While the book is not in production, Jason definitely finds some way, shape or form to get his hands on a copy….don’t ask a fanboy his methods okay!

       ->Toni Morrison

             -> Toni Morrison is one of my favorite black authors and by extension it is now Jason’s favorite. The way she writes is just so raw and passionate yet delicate and it really speaks to your soul. She’s one of those authors that’s in a completely different league of her own. I feel like Jason would really love Sula and A Mercy from her. He definitely cried while reading Beloved (everyone cries while reading Beloved). The Bluest Eye is his number one favorite book ever in life and I will die on this hill!!!

       -> “Sonny's Blues” by James Baldwin

             -> I honestly think anything by James Baldwin, Jason would like, but I choose Sonny’s Blues because of the struggle with brotherly love. There’s no secret that Jason has a tumultuous relationship with the rest of the Batfamily, and although for the most part the majority of it has been reconciled, tension lingers. Jason has his reservations, hes brash, and he’s the one that often clashes heads with people. This dynamic reflect that of the narrator and his brother, Sonny, who are constantly at war with one another because of Sonny’s desires and dreams, and the narrator being unable to see them. I feel like this is one of Jason’s comfort novels; it’s bittersweet, heartbreaking, and truly a testament to what people do when they think they’re doing what's best for those they care for.

       -> Other Books and Essays Include…

             -> “Letter to my Nephew” by James Baldwin, “Native Son” by Richard Wright, “Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl” by Harriet Jacobs, “Sweat” by Zora Neal-Hurston, The Parable Duology and “Bloodchild” by Octavia E. Butler

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don't be shy to send in a request!

[fairy-writes]

Hello!! How are you??

If you take requests, could you please do the Tokyo Ghoul boys reacting to reader being a famous artist who is "hidden" (like: has naver shown their face in public, uses a different name, etc)?

MASKED CREATIVITY

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Pairing(s): Kaneki Ken x Reader

Uta x Reader

Kirishima Ayato x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader

Notes: I only do three characters max for headcanons! So, if you’d like more, send in a request for part two!

Also, Ayato is :re age in this!

Also, also, I interpreted “artist” pretty differently for each person :)

__________________________________________________________________________

Kaneki Ken: Painter

Kaneki initially meets you when going to one of your art galleries! 

You open a brand new exhibit in a famous bookstore, and he goes because, coincidentally, it’s one of the only stores carrying a copy of Takatsuki Sen’s latest books.

He spots you immediately in the crowd, recognizing your mask as one of Uta’s. 

It’s a beautiful full-faced masquerade mask, seemingly made of porcelain or ceramic, and has colorful plumes of feathers obscuring your head from view. 

All he can see are your twinkling eyes as you excitedly talk about your work. 

Admittedly, he’s VERY nervous as he approaches you with his desired book in hand to compliment your latest piece. 

You turn to face him, and he offers what he hopes is a kind smile.

“You have some amazing work here.” He says and can tell by how your eyes crinkle that you’re smiling.

“Thank you.” Is all you say, and before he can stop himself, he blurts: “Is your mask one of Uta’s?” 

You freeze and look at him with wide eyes before nodding once. 

Luckily, no one has heard your conversation yet. 

He smiles again, “I’m familiar with his work. He made a mask of mine as well.” He explains, and you relax. 

“He’s quite the mask monger, isn’t he?” You say, almost breathless, as if you had anticipated something… else.

So Kaneki utilizes his senses and takes a discreet sniff. 

There it is… You’re a ghoul!

The two of you chat for a bit before he heads out, but not before shaking your hand and congratulating you again on your work. 

He stares at the card you slipped into his hand, your name and number scrawled on it in neat letters.

He hopes he can get to know you… something about you is incredibly fascinating. 

Uta: Musician

So you and Uta have been together for a while, and he only now finds out about your talent and fame as a musician. 

He finds out on accident, really, by coincidentally going to one of your shows. 

He’s with Itori and Yomo, lounging in a ghoul-friendly jazz bar and nursing a glass of blood wine when you come on stage. 

You’re carrying your prized saxophone and wearing the mask he made for you. 

It isn’t a full-faced mask. Instead, it only obscures the upper half of your face in lace and feathers. 

You scan the crowd, spot him, and your eyes widen briefly in surprise.

But you recover quickly and smile, bow slightly at the waist, and begin to play. 

And Uta is blown away by your talent. 

Kirishima Ayato: Poet

Ayato really didn’t want to be here. 

He really doesn’t.

But he promised you that he’d show up. So here he is.

He sits at an open-mic night at a local club on the outskirts of Tokyo. 

The room was dim, the air filled with the lingering scent of smoke and whatever disgusting human food was being made across the street. 

All chatter dies down, and clapping erupts when you come on stage. 

Ayato almost doesn’t recognize you. 

You are wearing a mask made by some mask maker in the fourth ward, and he can only tell it’s you by the smell of your perfume/cologne. 

Your mask is stunning, if not a bit creepy. It’s made of white material and painted to resemble a doll. 

You tap the microphone, pull out your worn notebook, and begin to speak.