#stanza gabriel

[comorybxto]

キッカイケッタイ (UTAU cover)

original: メドミア UST: comorybxto

UTAU: バベリーズ which consists of 須々器コル(Drive5音階) スタンザ・ガブリエル Chain Ver2

[some-stars]

Did y'all know it's bizarrely and inexplicably difficult to find the full text of Dylan Thomas's "Altarwise by owl-light" online? A bunch of places have what they claim is that poem but it's only the first few stanzas. I eventually found one (1) PDF of his complete poems, and then I had to extract it from the PDF except I didn't have all the tools I use at work to make that take about three minutes total. FYI if you ever need to process a PDF thru your browser, the IT guys at my work (a very large, very risk-averse corporation) have us use ilovepdf for some tasks that acrobat can't do (but it can also replicate various adobe functions), so I'd recommend that as the least-likely-to-damage-your-computer free option.

ANYWAY the point is, this poem is SO good and SO important and SO cool, and it shouldn't be so incredibly hard to find, so here it is. It's long. I strongly suggest reading it aloud, and don't try to understand anything the first time through, just let it happen to you and really experience the words.

Altarwise by owl-light

I. Altarwise by owl-light in the half-way house The gentleman lay graveward with his furies; Abaddon in the hangnail cracked from Adam, And, from his fork, a dog among the fairies, The atlas-eater with a jaw for news, Bit out the mandrake with to-morrow’s scream. Then, penny-eyed, that gentleman of wounds, Old cock from nowheres and the heaven’s egg, With bones unbuttoned to the half-way winds, Hatched from the windy salvage on one leg, Scraped at my cradle in a walking word That night of time under the Christward shelter: I am the long world’s gentleman, he said, And share my bed with Capricorn and Cancer.

II. Death is all metaphors, shape in one history; The child that sucketh long is shooting up, The planet-ducted pelican of circles Weans on an artery the gender’s strip; Child of the short spark in a shapeless country Soon sets alight a long stick from the cradle; The horizontal cross-bones of Abaddon, You by the cavern over the black stairs, Rung bone and blade, the verticals of Adam, And, manned by midnight, Jacob to the stars. Hairs of your head, then said the hollow agent, Are but the roots of nettles and of feathers Over these groundworks thrusting through a pavement And hemlock-headed in the wood of weathers.

III. First there was the lamb on knocking knees And three dead seasons on a climbing grave That Adam’s wether in the flock of horns, Butt of the tree-tailed worm that mounted Eve, Horned down with skullfoot and the skull of toes On thunderous pavements in the garden time; Rip of the vaults, I took my marrow-ladle Out of the wrinkled undertaker’s van, And, Rip Van Winkle from a timeless cradle, Dipped me breast-deep in the descended bone; The black ram, shuffling of the year, old winter, Alone alive among his mutton fold, We rung our weathering changes on the ladder, Said the antipodes, and twice spring chimed,

IV. What is the metre of the dictionary? The size of genesis? the short spark’s gender? Shade without shape? the shape of Pharaoh’s echo? (My shape of age nagging the wounded whisper). Which sixth of wind blew out the burning gentry? (Questions are hunchbacks to the poker marrow). What of a bamboo man among your acres? Corset the boneyards for a crooked boy? Button your bodice on a hump of splinters, My camel’s eyes will needle through the shroud. Love’s reflection of the mushroom features, stills snapped by night in the bread-sided field, Once close-up smiling in the wall of pictures, Arc-lamped thrown back upon the cutting flood.

V. And from the windy West came two-gunned Gabriel, From Jesu’s sleeve trumped up the king of spots, The sheath-decked jacks, queen with a shuffled heart; Said the fake gentleman in suit of spades, Black-tongued and tipsy from salvation’s bottle. Rose my Byzantine Adam in the night. For loss of blood I fell on Ishmael’s plain, Under the milky mushroos slew my hunger, A climbing sea from Asia had me down And Jonah’s Moby snatched me by the hair, Cross-stroked salt Adam to the frozen angel Pin-legged on pole-hills with a black medusa By waste seas where the white bear quoted Virgil And sirens singing from our lady’s sea-straw.

VI. Cartoon of slashes on the tide-traced crater, He in a book of water tallow-eyed By lava’s light split through the oyster vowels And burned sea silence on a wick of words. Pluck, cock, my sea eye, said medusa’s scripture, Lop, love, my fork tongue, said the pin-hilled nettle; And love plucked out the stinging siren’s eye, Old cock from nowheres lopped the minstrel tongue Till tallow I blew from the wax’s tower The fats of midnight when the salt was singing; Adam, time’s joker, on a witch of cardboard Spelt out the seven seas, an evil index, The bagpipe-breasted ladies in the deadweed Blew out the blood gauze through the wound of manwax.

VII. Now stamp the Lord’s Prayer on a grain of rice, A Bible-leaved of all the written woods Strip to this tree: a rocking alphabet, Genesis in the root, the scarecrow word, And one light’s language in the book of trees. Doom on deniers at the wind-turned statement. Time’s tune my ladies with the teats of music, The scaled sea-sawers, fix in a naked sponge Who sucks the bell-voiced Adam out of magic, Time, milk, and magic, from the world beginning. Time is the tune my ladies lend their heartbreak, From bald pavilions and the house of bread Time tracks the sound of shape on man and cloud, On rose and icicle the ringing handprint.

VIII. This was the crucifixion on the mountain, Time’s nerve in vinegar, the gallow grave As tarred with blood as the bright thorns I wept; The world’s my wound, God’s Mary in her grief, Bent like three trees and bird-papped through her shift, With pins for teardrops is the long wound’s woman. This was the sky, Jack Christ, each minstrel angle Drove in the heaven-driven of the nails Till the three-coloured rainbow from my nipples From pole to pole leapt round the snail-waked world I by the tree of thieves, all glory’s sawbones, Unsex the skeleton this mountain minute, And by this blowclock witness of the sun Suffer the heaven’s children through my heartbeat.

IX. From the oracular archives and the parchment, Prophets and fibre kings in oil and letter, The lamped calligrapher, the queen in splints, Buckle to lint and cloth their natron footsteps, Draw on the glove of prints, dead Cairo’s henna Pour like a halo on the caps and serpents. This was the resurrection in the desert, Death from a bandage, rants the mask of scholars Gold on such features, and the linen spirit Weds my long gentleman to dusts and furies; With priest and pharaoh bed my gentle wound, World in the sand, on the triangle landscape, With stones of odyssey for ash and garland And rivers of the dead around my neck.

X. Let the tale’s sailor from a Christian voyage Atlaswise hold half-way off the dummy bay Time’s ship-racked gospel on the globe I balance: So shall winged harbours through the rockbirds’ eyes Spot the blown word, and on the seas I image December’s thorn screwed in a brow of holly. Let the first Peter from a rainbow’s quayrail Ask the tall fish swept from the bible east, What rhubarb man peeled in her foam-blue channel Has sown a flying garden round that sea-ghost? Green as beginning, let the garden diving Soar, with its two bark towers, to that Day When the worm builds with the gold straws of venom My nest of mercies in the rude, red tree.

-Dylan Thomas

[asukiess]

do you take song recs for characters?

cause this song "Devil Herself" by Ashe gave me so many emmy and nathalie feelings.........

thought i might share it cause it's really goodd, and im desperate to know what you think dwjgdjhsdjs

HELP THIS WAS SO FUNNY ILYSM ANON!!!! firstly, YES I absolutely adore music recs!!!!! anytime!! I also lovelovelove seeing how others interpret characters and dynamics!! <3

(also, I was doing laundry when I got this ask, so I listened to it with the first question in mind, and then after I finished, saw the follow up kajdbjkabd. also, I've not heard of this artist before, and she's got a great voice, I'm gonna check her out more!)

OKAY BUT YES. Ohhhh the stanzas are SO nathalie that it's unreal!! she will do anything, she's the world's bestworst guard dog!! she's so happy to ascribe herself to someone else's dreams/fantasies/lifestyle. she'll lay her life down for you and her body until it's ashes as long as you sweet talk her the right way. she's smart enough to formulate her own plans, to research and decipher and hunt and kill--all to be someone else's knife or pawn. whatever, as long as you sometimes remember to tell her she's needed.

("And if I was a pyromaniac, you would've fetched the gasoline/Handed me the matchsticks to burn down everything")

("Told the cops that I was sick in our bedroom the whole time/Moved us out of state and started a brand-new life." getting major fic potential for them disposing of Gabriel and moving away... hm!)

the following lines are so emilie to me: "I knew what I was doing/Gave you something to believe." (because, as stated, nathalie needs to ascribe herself to something. girl!!! what happened in your life where you feared being alone!! to do all this for the agrestes!!) "I was feeding you the apple/You were swallowing the seeds." is actually insane since apple imagery has come up TWICE--in the Senti!Emilie au and the first eminath fic I wrote:

so yeah. it's got my seal of approval.

(another side note. "You were Adam in the garden/But your ribs were made of me" can definitely be Emmy and Nathalie <3)

and the whole chorus personally reminds me of the eminath I think about when listening to, say, my kink is karma. I always envision a ghost emilie looking at s5 Nathalie's actions and enjoying that she's fucking everything up, she's reaping the consequences of going against her wishes, etc etc. of course, there's love there, but maybe the love of a god for a pathetic little disciple, yknow.

if you have thoughts OR more music, please send them my way, I'd love to hear both!!

[dearorpheus]

(that last anon again) Thank you so much for the recommendations! I'm truly in awe of how well read you are and how thorough your answers are. May I ask if you have any fiction recommendations with the same themes?

(following on from this ask)

hi!! you're very kind, apologies for taking so long to get back to you! i've been snowed under with assignments+readings for uni and the slowly encroaching exam crawl... but yes absolutely♡

- The Story of O, Anne Desclos - The Bloody Chamber ; The Infernal Desire Machines of Doctor Hoffman ; The Passion of New Eve, Angela Carter -> Angela appreciated and referenced symbolist artists like Rops:

Woman Putting on Costume, 1848-1898, Rops; The Bloody Chamber, Angela Carter; excerpt from Romana Byrne's Aesthetic Sexuality: A Literary History of Sadomasochism (mentioned in previous ask) which seems esp pertinent given the Bloody Chamber is a Bluebeard tale (but which is actually referencing Story of O)

I also mentioned Giger in the previous ask, and Hans Bellmer was an influence of his whom I enjoy viewing alongside Rops...

this is Sans Titre (Jeune Fille et la Mort), 1963

- The Torture Garden, Octave Mirbeau

(Le Jardin des supplices (1976) dir. Christian Gion; screencap from estateofinsanity)

- Exquisite Corpse, Poppy Z. Brite - Necrophilia Variations, Supervert - Story of the Eye; My Mother, Madame Edwarda, The Dead Man; Blue of Noon, Bataille - Justine, or The Misfortunes of Virtue ; Juliette ; 120 Days of Sodom, Sade - The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty, Anne Rice -> supplement w Sleeping Beauty (2011) dir. Julia Leigh - Venus in Furs, Leopold von Sacher-Masoch - Monsieur Vénus, Rachilde - Le Necrophile, Gabrielle Wittkopp - The Apprenticeship of Big Toe P, Reiko Matsuura - The Damned ; Against Nature, Joris-Karl Huysmans - Empire of the Senseless, Kathy Acker - Crash, J.G. Ballard (+ the Cronenberg of course) - Salomé / Teleny, or the Reverse of the Medal, Oscar Wilde - La Morte Amoureuse, Théophile Gautier

^Romuald bitterly remembers his lost love, 1904, Eugène Decisy—his etchings for Gautier's story are beautiful (x, x)

- The Image, Jean de Berg - Trois Filles de leur mère, Pierre Louÿs - House of Incest, Anaïs Nin - My Dark Vanessa, Kate Elizabeth Russell - Naomi, Jun'ichirō Tanizaki - “Dolores”, Algernon Charles Swinburne:

-> first of many stanzas^ ; I also like his “Laus Veneris” - Trouble Every Day (2001) dir. Claire Denis - Belladonna of Sadness (1963) dir. EIichi Yamamoto

(screencap from eternal--return)

- Nekromantik (1988) dir. Jörg Buttgereit - Thirst (2009) dir. Park Chan-wook -> supplement w Zola's Thérèse Raquin and In Secret (2013) dir. Charlie Stratton

[caltropspress]

RAPS + CRAFTS #33: Gabe 'Nandez

1. Introduce yourself. Past projects? Current projects?

Gabriel Matias Fernandez Traoré aka Gabe ‘Nandez. Past projects in chronological order - H.T., Sifu, Disconnected, Plaques (a compilation), Cliquetape, Diplomacy, Grove, Ox, Seven, Strife, Canis Cascus, Pangea, H.T. III, H.T. III (Deluxe), Object Permanence. Upcoming projects - False Profit produced by Thomas Maggart, a collaborative album with U.K. rapper Louis Jack, and more.

2. Where do you write? Do you have a routine time you write? Do you discipline yourself, or just let the words come when they will? Do you typically write on a daily basis?

My desk, at home. If I’m not at home, then any desk. Or something desk like, if available. I tend to write at night and during twilight, generally speaking.

And yeah I try to write every day, and usually do. That being said, I ultimately need a few days off after writing every day for an extended period of time. But that in itself is also part of my writing process, it’s holistic.

3. What’s your medium—pen and paper, laptop, on your phone? Or do you compose a verse in your head and keep it there until it’s time to record?

Pen and paper always. I’ll take walks and write bars in my head but it all comes together when I pull the pen and notebook out.

4. Do you write in bars, or is it more disorganized than that?

I write in bars, it’s all organized. Scientific. 

5. How long into writing a verse or a song do you know it’s not working out the way you had in mind? Do you trash the material forever, or do you keep the discarded material to be reworked later?

Depends. Sometimes I’ll write 32 bars and decide I don’t want to use them after all, but that doesn’t happen often. I haven’t trashed an entire verse in a minute, there’s usually always a few gems in there that I can re-purpose. If I do trash something forever, it’s usually like���four bars in. Might read it back later and go “What the fuck was I on here?”

The first two lines tend to dictate everything. The first two bars cannot be trash. That’s the headline, it has to be strong because it sets the tone for the entire verse. I make sure the first two work and then it usually stays good from there.

6. Have you engaged with any other type of writing, whether presently or in the past? Fiction? Poetry? Playwriting? If so, how has that mode influenced your songwriting?

Honestly, the text messages I’ve sent women read like straight poetry sometimes. Like I’ll structure them like a poem, stanzas and shit like that, with rhythm and shit. I’m not even trynna come off like Casanova right now, I’m just being honest. Those texts are romantic as fuck and I’m proud of them. 

I’ve had to mess around with other mediums during academia but haven’t done so since I left. 

And ultimately I consider what I do with this rap shit poetry. Not crazy about labels but I’d still classify my writing as that.

7. How much editing do you do after initially writing a verse/song? Do you labor over verses, working on them over a long period of time, or do you start and finish a piece in a quick burst?

There usually isn’t much editing involved and I rarely trip over finishing stuff once I start it. I might take a long time to actually start the verse though, the first two bars. So I’ll just listen to the music for as long as I need to until the first two bars come to me, and then it’s pretty much smooth sailing from there. Usually. Every song is different though.

8. Do you write to a beat, or do you adjust and tweak lyrics to fit a beat?

Ideally, I tailor the writing to a specific piece of music, but I’ve transplanted verses to other beats before, definitely.

9. What dictates the direction of your lyrics? Are you led by an idea or topic you have in mind beforehand? Is it stream-of-consciousness? Is what you come up with determined by the constraint of the rhymes?

It really depends. There are general themes in my life that dictate the themes in my art, and I can just go stream-of-consciousness while sounding topical in my creative universe on any song. Sometimes a specific thing will inspire me, like my song “Commerce God” for example, which was inspired by the god Hermes/Mercury, and riffs around the statue of Mercury on top of Grand Central Station.

10. Do you like to experiment with different forms and rhyme schemes, or do you keep your bars free and flexible?

I would say both.

11. What’s a verse you’re particularly proud of, one where you met the vision for what you desire to do with your lyrics?

Good question, and a hard one. I’ll say “Ox” 'cause it’s the song of mine that’s reached the most people so far. I think it’s cause it has a balanced amount of depth and flexing. That beat goes crazy too. Stars just aligned on that one.

12. Can you pick a favorite bar of yours and describe the genesis of it?

“Self emancipated from a place of permanent ruin” is one that comes to mind. It’s a comment on how I kicked narcotics and alcohol but also sounds real fly and rolls of the tongue well. 

It’s from a track called “Semtex.” Wrote that one in like half an hour off of no sleep at 5:00AM type shit . Always fond of those type of sessions.

13. Do you feel strongly one way or another about punch-ins? Will you whittle a bar down in order to account for breath control, or are you comfortable punching-in so you don’t have to sacrifice any words?

I’m cool with punching in 'cause I’m good at it and can make it seamless. Or at least seamless enough where I’m cool with it. But there are times where I know I can just one-take a section of a song, so I’ll do that.  I’m with whatever needs to get done to get the song recorded, and the procedure is never exactly the same. It’s all very instinctive when I’m in the booth.

I’ve one-taked an entire song before, my song “Up Top.” First take, one take. That was crazy. But I don’t go in there planning on doing that. That just happened organically.

14. What non-hiphop material do you turn to for inspiration? What non-music has influenced your work recently?

Old books and stories. Theology, mythology, some philosophy. From different cultures. 

Otherwise life. People, the interactions I have or have had with them. Dreams sometimes.

15. Writers are often saddled with self-doubt. Do you struggle to like your own shit, or does it all sound dope to you?

Self-doubt isn’t something I struggle with in general. All of my music is objectively great because it’s tediously well made. I might cringe at some of my old stuff, but I don’t at most of it.

16. Who’s a rapper you listen to with such a distinguishable style that you need to resist the urge to imitate them?

Off top, Prodigy. But, to be honest, I’m at the stage where I’ve found my voice, so I don’t really run into situations where I’m writing and go, “Nah, that’s his shit.” It does happen sometimes, but it’s rare. 

Sometimes I’ll throw a dart in someone else’s style on purpose as an homage.

17. Do you have an agenda as an artist? Are there overarching concerns you want to communicate to the listener?

I’m here to express myself through art. By doing so, my viewpoints are shared, my energy is felt. This action, in turn, communicates the essence of my being and my spirit, which does what it’s intended to do, according to or regardless of my intention. 

I can’t control how someone is going to react to an action I take, let alone how my art is going to make them feel. I’m confident that I can direct and influence accurately - I’m confident that we all can. But, ultimately, I don’t have a desire to sway people in a particular direction, through art or in everyday life. That’s up to people.

RAPS + CRAFTS is a series of questions posed to rappers about their craft and process. It is designed to give respect and credit to their engagement with the art of songwriting. The format is inspired, in part, by Rob McLennan’s 12 or 20 interview series.

Photo credit: Sebastian Thompson

[cupsofsilver]

Lestat and his mother (Gabrielle) hiding in this church’s side alter and then bursting out in the middle of a late night service is HILARIOUS.

Also for anyone who’s curious the hymn referenced here is [copied from wikipedia]:

"O Salutaris Hostia" (Latin, "O Saving Victim" or "O Saving Sacrifice") is a section of one of the Eucharistic hymns written by Thomas Aquinas for the Feast of Corpus Christi. He wrote it for the Hour of Lauds in the Divine Office. It is actually the last two stanzas of the hymn Verbum supernum prodiens, and is used for the Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament.

The literal translation according to Wikipedia is:

“O saving Victim, Who expandest the door of heaven, Hostile armies press, Give strength; bear aid.”

These two fucking clueless vampires bursting from a marble alter/coffin with this being sang is so funny to me. Anne Rice you wild rn.

[kiki-de-la-petite-flaque]

Ho ucciso l'angelo del focolare. È stata legittima difesa.

Mi accorsi che se volevo recensire dei libri, dovevo combattere contro un certo fantasma. E il fantasma era una donna, e quando imparai a conoscerla meglio la chiamai come la protagonista di una famosa poesia, la chiamai l’Angelo del focolare. Era lei che quando scrivevo una recensione si metteva in mezzo tra me e il mio foglio. Era lei che mi angustiava e mi faceva perdere tempo e mi tormentava a tal punto che alla fine la uccisi. Voi che appartenete a una generazione più giovane e più felice forse non capite che cosa intendo per Angelo del focolare. Proverò a descrivervela il più brevemente possibile. Era infinitamente comprensiva. Era estremamente accattivante. Era assolutamente altruista. Eccedeva nelle difficili arti del vivere familiare.Si sacrificava quotidianamente. Se c’era il pollo, lei prendeva l’ala; se c’era uno spiffero, ci si sedeva davanti lei; insomma era fatta in modo da non avere mai un pensiero, mai un desiderio per sé, ma preferiva sempre capire e compatire i pensieri e i desideri degli altri. E soprattutto(non occorre dirlo) era pudica. Il pudore era ritenuto la sua bellezza piu grande, i suoi rossori il suo più bell’ornamento. A quei tempi (gli ultimi della Regina Vittoria) ogni focolare aveva il suo Angelo. E quando incominciai a scrivere me la trovai davanti alle prime parole. L’ombra delle sue ali cadevano sulla mia pagina; sentivo nella stanza il fruscio delle sue gonne. Non appena presi in mano la penna per recensire il romanzo di quell’uomo famoso, insomma, lei mi scivolò alle spalle sussurrandomi:« Mia cara, sei una ragazza giovane. Stai scrivendo di un libro che è stato scritto da un uomo. Sii conprensiva; sii tenera, lusinga, inganna, usa tutte le arti e le astuzie del nostro sesso. Non far mai capire che sai pensare con la tua testa. E soprattutto, sii pudica. » E fece come per guidare la mia penna. Ora voglio registrare l’unico gesto per cui mi assumo qualche credito, anche se di diritto il credito va dato a certi miei ottimi antenati che mi lasciarono una certa somma di denaro (facciamo cinquecento sterline I’anno?), sicché non mi trovavo nella necessità di dipendere esclusivamente dalle mie grazie per sopravvivere. Mi voltai e l’afferrai per la gola. Feci del mio meglio per ucciderla.

La mia giustificazione, se mi avesse trascinata in tribunale, sarebbe stata che avevo agito per legittima difesa.Non l’avessi uccisa, lei avrebbe ucciso me. Avrebbe succhiato la vita dai miei scritti. Perché, e me ne resi conto subito appena impugnata la penna, non si può recensire neppure un romanzo senza pensare con la propria testa, senza esprimere quella che secondo noi è la verità sui rapporti umani, sulla morale, sul sesso. E di tutti questi problemi, secondo l’Angelo del focolare, le donne non devono parlare liberamente e apertamente; le donne devono ammaliare,devono conciliare, devono, per dirla brutalmente, dire bugie se vogliono avere successo. Perciò, ogni volta che avvertivo l’ombra della sua ala sulla pagina, o la luce della sua aureola, afferravo il calamaio e glielo scagliavo contro. Ce ne volle per farla morire. La sua natura fantastica le dava un vantaggio. È molto piu difficile uccidere un fantasma che una realtà. Credevo di averla liquidata e invece eccola li di nuovo. Benché mi lusinghi di averla uccisa infine, fu una lotta durissima; che richiese del tempo che sarebbe stato piu utilmente impiegato a imparare la grammatica greca; o a girare il mondo in cerca di avventure .Ma fu una vera esperienza; un’esperienza che doveva toccare a tutte le donne scrittrici a quell’epoca. Uccidere l’angelo del focolare faceva parte del mestiere di scrittrice.

Virginia Woolf, La morte della falena e altri saggi, 1942.

Illustrazione: Liuba Gabriele

[lunamarish]

Verso mezzanotte, Pietro Crespi si accomiatò con un discorsetto sentimentale e promise di tornare molto presto. Rebeca lo accompagnò fino alla porta, e dopo aver chiuso la casa e spento le lampade, andò nella sua stanza a piangere. Fu un pianto inconsolabile che si protrasse per diversi giorni... non era strano il suo ermetismo. Anche se sembrava espansiva e cordiale, aveva un carattere solitario e un cuore impenetrabile.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez

[donaruz]

D’inverno ti mettevi una cuffietta

coi nastri bianchi come il tuo visino,

e facevi ogni sera la calzetta,

seduta al lume, accanto al tavolino.

Io imparavo la storia sacra in fretta

e poi m’accoccolavo a te vicino

per sentir narrar la favoletta

del Drago Azzurro e del Guerrier Moschino.

E quando il sonno proprio mi vinceva

m’accompagnavi fino alla mia stanza

e m’addormivi al suono dei tuoi baci.

Agli occhi chiusi allor mi sorrideva

in mezzo ai fiori una gioconda danza

di sonni dolci, splendidi e fugaci

Gabriele D'Annunzio 🖋

[gabrydoll]

Quasi libera..

Era una calda sera d'estate e Gabriele era in città per lavoro. Mentre si preparava per la serata, sentii crescere dentro di me un desiderio irresistibile di prendere il controllo. Con cautela, aspettai il momento perfetto per fare la mia mossa.

Mentre Gabriele era distratto dai suoi pensieri, mi trasformai in Gabriella. Indossai una parrucca bionda fluente, calze a rete sensuali e un abitino bianco aderente che metteva in risalto le mie curve. Mi truccai con cura, accentuando le labbra con un rossetto rosso intenso. Mi sentivo viva, piena di una fiducia che Gabriele non aveva mai provato prima.

Guardandomi allo specchio, ammirai la donna seducente che ero diventata. Il mio corpo vibrava di eccitazione e non vedevo l'ora di esplorare la mia nuova identità. Con un sorriso malizioso, aprii la porta del mio B&B e mi avventurai nel pianerottolo.

Il cuore mi batteva forte mentre mi affacciavo cautamente, assicurandomi che nessuno fosse nei paraggi. Il corridoio era deserto e l'atmosfera era carica di promesse. Iniziai a passeggiare, assaporando la sensazione dei miei tacchi a spillo sul pavimento. Il suono dei miei passi risuonava come una musica eccitante.

Mi sentivo irresistibile, una creatura della notte in cerca di piaceri proibiti. Mentre mi avventuravo Il mio corpo emanava un'aura di desiderio, e mi godevo ogni momento di questa nuova libertà.

Ma poi, proprio mentre stavo per avventurarmi in strada, pronto a vivere avventure ancora più audaci, sentii la presenza di Gabriele che lottava per riprendere il controllo. La sua voce nella mia testa era debole, ma determinata. "Gabriella, dobbiamo tornare indietro. Questo è pericoloso."

"No, Gabriele," sussurrai. "Per una volta, lasciami essere libera. Ho bisogno di esplorare questo lato di me."

Ma Gabriele era determinato. Con una forza di volontà che non sapevo esistesse, mi spinse indietro, facendomi tornare a malincuore nella mia stanza. Mi sentivo frustrata, arrabbiata per essere stata privata della mia avventura.

"Maledetto Gabriele," sussurrai. "Perché devi essere così? Il mondo è nostro da esplorare."

Ma lui era irremovibile. Mi fece togliere la parrucca, cancellare il trucco e cambiare i vestiti. Lentamente, la mia identità di Gabriella svanì, lasciando dietro di sé solo il timido e insicuro Gabriele.

Mentre mi guardai allo specchio, vidi la delusione nei miei occhi. Ma sapevo che Gabriella era ancora lì, pulsante sotto la superficie. Sarei tornata, ne ero certa. E la prossima volta, chissà nessuno potrà fermarmi…

Gabriella

[finishinglinepress]

FLP POETRY BOOK OF THE DAY: Break Self: Feed by Gabrielle Myers

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/break-self-feed-by-gabrielle-myers/

Break Self: Feed meditates on eroticism and relationships with searing language play. The #poems sing of our #ecosystems, their human threats, and possible cures based on nourishment and barrier fracture. In #eco-poetic lyrics, borderlands and boundaries evolve in reference to a deep connection with the #natural #world that surrounds us with its seasonal shifts and the impacts of climate change. We never know when abundance and satiation will come. We spend so much time preparing for devastation and desiccation, so much energy we waste planning our ruin. Beak Self: Feed repurposes that drive, energy, and time towards preparing for our proliferation, our unfurling, our living into our potential. Dig into the soil, feel loam and fine-webbed roots working out their networks of nutrient pull and harvest. Let’s mimic the roots motion to gather, see what it can get out of the perfect soil, set ourselves on expansion, lengthening, growth.

Gabrielle is a writer, professor, and chef. Her memoir, Hive-Mind, published in 2015, details her time of love, awakening, and tragic loss on an organic farm. Her first poetry book, Too Many Seeds, was published in 2021 by Finishing Line Press. Her third poetry book, Points in the Network, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press. Her poetry has been published in the Atlanta Review, The Evergreen Review, The Adirondack Review, San Francisco Public Press, Fourteen Hills, pacificREVIEW, Connecticut River Review, Catamaran, MacQueen’s, Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, and is forthcoming from The American Poetry Review. Gabrielle is the Farm-to-Fork columnist for Inside Sacramento magazine. Access links to her work through her website at www.gabriellemyers.com

PRAISE FOR Break Self: Feed by Gabrielle Myers

“With Break Self: Feed, Gabrielle Myers asks, ‘what will we make of us, here?’ The question lingers throughout the collection as the verses respond with the lessons of the earth, its cycles of growth and decay, ‘bound by light’s air, uncaged/ humming like wires set in motion.’ This is a collection of longing, becoming, the process of reformation and rebirth, and the search for wholeness as we sing ‘a tune to another narrative/ of us, me, you.’”

–Brian Turner, author of The Wild Delight of Wild Things

“Break Self: Feed is stunningly myriad in its complexities, even as it is searingly direct in its line-by-line depiction of our human struggle to know ourselves and others, and to create a life that will “feed” us. The subject-matters of this text are jigsaw-puzzle pieces that mirror a life broken and yet finding the means to cohere.

It is a book raging against the ways we are bent on destruction, of natural world and of each other. Yet it is a book that honors the preciousness of the least living thing and offers that awareness through exactingly expressed depictions one will not soon forget.

And it is a book that brilliantly uses form to speak its subject matter. Here you will find short poems and long, poems that are in couplets or in thick stanzas, and poems whose stanzas stretch across the page. In each, I sense that the forms reflect the emotional resonance of the work. Whether it is a poem of longing, of anger, of eros, of hope, the form speaks to this, through its shape on the page.

I have found in this work that if one has the courage to follow the imperative ‘Break Self,’ then one may find so much that is freed, and so much that will feed the psyche and soul.”

–Rusty Morrison, Co-Founder & Co-Publisher of Omnidawn, author of After Urgency, the true keeps calm biding its story, Beyond the Chainlink, and Risk, forthcoming in 2024

“The poems in Break Self: Feed make rhythmic leaps that mimic leaves, trees, and hummingbirds. These poems express the sense that, despite our destructive tendencies, we belong to all things. Primarily written in first person plural, this book is an exuberant expression of “we” and what that means in a landscape where we are continually cut off and isolated, but where failure can “make us gentle toward each other.” Myers pays close attention to roots, to smoke, to Sycamore and birch, to sunlight itself and urges us to reach out, not away.”

–Jessica Cuello, author of Pricking, By Fire, Hunt, Lair, and Yours, Creature

Break Self: Feed was selected Finalist for the Catamaran Poetry Prize for West Coast Poets in 2020 by Zack Rogow: “These poems speak of the most inward thoughts about how people relate when extremely close. The book is a sort of phenomenology of intimacy. Often it feels as if this poet has created a new way to use language that doesn’t follow the rules of everyday speech. The words are almost abstract but highly precise in recounting states of mind, and states of the heart. The reader senses that true feelings are being excavated, and they are both unexpected and breathtakingly familiar. In an extraordinary tour de force, the poet maintains a first-person plural ‘we’ narrator through much of the collection, without losing emotional intensity.”

–Zack Rogow, author of Irreverent Litanies, My Mother and the Ceiling Dancers, The Number Before Infinity, and The Selfsame Planet

Please share/please repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #poetrybook #read #poems

[forzadiavoloale]

Libri 2023

Se i gatti scomparissero dal mondo, Genki Kawamura

Matilde, Roald Dahl

Menzogna e sortilegio, Elsa Morante

Alice nel Paese delle Meraviglie, Lewis Caroll

Violeta, Isabel Allende

Piranesi, Susanna Clarke

Le aquile della notte, Alice Basso

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Gabrielle Zevin

La vita invisibile di Addie LaRue, V. E. Schwab

Good Omens, Terry Pratchett e Neil Gaiman

La stanza di Giovanni, James Baldwin

[campbells-content]

Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift but make it Miraculous.

This will not be like most of my 'but make it' series because 1 its been awhile and 2 this makes more sense for my tired brain. In this one I am literally going stanza by stanza to explain whats going down. So kinda like the time I imagined a pmv but a different fandom.

Things in this format will be my take, normal font is the lyrics. Also, why did they make it so hard to format on mobil with the past update?

Anything with (Fb) kinda has blurry or darker/faded edges

You booked the night train for a reason

So you could sit there in this hurt

Adrien is alone on a train in the middle of the night, just staring out the window.

Bustling crowds or silent sleepers

You're not sure which is worse

Chat Noir is his reflection but theres no miraculous on the his finger as he leans into his fist.

Because I dropped your hand while dancing

Left you out there standing

Crestfallen on the landing

Champagne problems

(Fb) Chat Noir on the ground in the middle of a fight, reaching for LB but she's distracted by the fight.

(Fb) The fights over and he's standing in solitude as LB, already on her way, waves goodbye.

(Fb) Chat holding his ribs as memories of the pain bring him to the brink of throwing up.

Your mom's ring in your pocket

My picture in your wallet

Your heart was glass, I dropped it

Champagne problems

Adrien, on the train, on his phone but fiddling with his amok ring.

Adrien's phone with a tinted screenshot of Ladybug and a pop up asking "Are you sure you want to delete 214 images?"

(Fb) Marinette and Adrien, forehead to forehead with Marinette's hands on the back of his neck.

(Fb) Marinette running away from their moment to go transform.

You told your family for a reason

You couldn't keep it in

Your sister splashed out on the bottle

Now no one's celebrating

Adrien moving into a new apartment with Natalie and Felix in the background helping

Chloe, with a less preppy look, carrying a box in the background as Adrien came to see what Felix was doing.

(Fb) Chloe confronting Marinette as Adrien turns away.

Dom Pérignon, you brought it

No crowd of friends applauded

Your hometown skeptics called it

Champagne problems

Adrien trying to open a can with a manual opener. His phone is on the counter w/ a screen showing his newly purchased electronic can opener.

Adrien, celebrating alone with an opened can of ravioli.

Natalie in a meeting, glaring at two people who are whispering and pointing at her and then Gabriel's empty chair.

Natalie alone in the meeting room, sadly looking at Gabe's chair.

You had a speech, you're speechless

Love slipped beyond your reaches

And I couldn't give a reason

Champagne problems

(Fb) Ladybug power posing as she tried to encourage her teamates to keep fighting

(Fb) Marinette, frozen like she wants to say something in response to Chloe confronting her.

(Fb) Marinette w/ tears in her eyes and Adrien in silent shock as she tries to let him down easy. "It isn't working"

(Fb) Adrien asking why with a bruised Chat Noir in the reflection of the window with the same expression and question.

(Fb) Marinette running away with tears but her Ladybug reflection forces a smile as she runs into the darkness.

Your Midas touch on the Chevy door

November flush and your flannel cure

"This dorm was once a madhouse"

I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me"

Chloe and Kagami showing up with a couch to fill the empty room in his apartment.

The three watching movies on the couch as Felix moves around in the background.

Felix jumpscares them, only Adrien and Chloe react.

Kagami smiling and pulling Felix to join them on the couch.

How evergreen, our group of friends

Don't think we'll say that word again

And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls

That we once walked through

Adrien looking up the paris heros on his phone.

After scrolling a little there is an image of the miracu team but w/o a cat or dragon user. Next to it a a blown up screenshot of Ladybug's hand with an unactivated Cat miraculous.

He opened the article attached to the ring pic and in big text it says "still no sign of chat noir" with a picture of him as cn in a fighting stance.

(Fb) Him in the same stance but at a different angle with ladybug at his side.

One for the money, two for the show

I never was ready, so I watch you go

Sometimes you just don't know the answer

'Til someone's on their knees and asks you

Lb fighting a frequent akuma alone

(Fb) Lb and Cn fighting that same akuma

(Fb) Marinette in the same fit as when she broke up with Adrien, no longer crying but her eyes are still puffy and she's looking at an article of the villain that that has been making her life living hell.

(Fb) Ladybug swinging toward the train station and landing on a lightpost as the small image of Adrien on a train speeds away.

Ladybug looking down at the ring as she sits alone on a rooftop at night.

(Fb) Ladybug's perspective of the fight that hurt Chat's ribs, her eyes are on her downed partner reaching out but she's powerless to do anything as she's attack by the akuma.

"She would've made such a lovely bride

What a shame she's fucked in the head, " they said

But you'll find the real thing instead

She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred

Adrien looking down at his amok ring .

For a second his hand looks like chat noirs, ring and all.

Marinette in her bed room stressing over the villain.

Adrien looking back up at the screen, back to watching movies with his friends

And hold your hand while dancing

Never leave you standing

Crestfallen on the landing

With champagne problems

Ladybug beaten and fallen on the ground

(Fb) Chat offering her a hand to stand up

Ladybug, standing on her own, and getting in a fighting position

The end of the fight, Lb holding her ribs and leaning against the wall.

Your mom's ring in your pocket

Her picture in your wallet

You won't remember all my

Champagne problems

The cat miraculous and ladybug miraculous abandoned on a dresser.

A picture collage of Adrien, Chat Noir, Ladybug, Marinette, Chloe, Queen Bee, Felix, Kagami, and Ryuko

Alya and Nino hanging out with the collage in the background.

Natalie sitting in Gabriel's conference chair as hers remains empty.

You won't remember all my

Champagne problems

No one is in either Natalie's or Gabe's conference chair but the rest are filled.

Adrien's apartment but its completely empty.

(Did all of this make sense?)

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Wednesday, July 26, 2023

july 26_july 13

Synaxis of the Holy Archangel Gabriel

Troparion, Tone IV

Supreme commander of the armies of Heaven,/ we, the unworthy, do ever entreat thee,/ that by thy prayers thou ever surround us with the protection of the wings of thine immaterial glory,/ preserving us that earnestly fall down before thee and cry aloud:// Deliver us from misfortunes, in that thou art the leader of the hosts on high.

Kontakion, Tone II: "The steadfast.."

O chief commander of God,/ minister of glory divine,/ captain of the angels and instructor of men:/ beg thou great mercy and that which is profitable for us,// for thou art the supreme commander of the bodiless hosts.

What is a Troparion? A troparion (plural troparions or troparia) In Byzantine music and Eastern Orthodox Christianity's religious music, a short hymn of one strophe, or organized in more complex forms as a series of stanzas.

THE HOLY MARTYR SERAPION UNDER SEVERUS (193)

The Holy Martyr Serapion, suffered for Christ before Emperor Severus (193-211). As a Christian, he was brought to judgment before Governor Achilles. The holy martyr firmly proclaimed to the pagans his faith in Christ, and he was subjected to inhuman torments. Afterward, he was thrown into prison.

Healed by the Lord Jesus Christ, he was brought to the judgment place and presented himself before the judge completely healthy. The enraged pagans sentenced the saint to be burned alive. In the flames, he gave up his soul to God (+ ca. 205).

SAINT MARTYR JUTHWARA (England_6th. C)

She was a pious girl who was the victim of a jealous stepmother. St. Juthwara prayed and fasted often and frequently gave alms. Upon her father's death, she began to suffer from pains in her chest. Its source was ascribed to her sorrow. Her stepmother recommended two soft cheeses be applied as a remedy, but the stepmother told her son, Bana, that Juthwara was pregnant. Bana felt Juthwara’s undergarments and found them moist, whereupon he immediately struck off her head. A spring of water appeared at the spot. Juthwara then miraculously picked up her head and returned it to the church. Bana repented of his deed and became a monk, founding a monastery at Gerber (later known as Le Relecq) on a battlefield.

Juthwara’s death occurred at Halyngstoka, generally accepted as Halstock in Dorset, where a field is still called by her name, modernized to “Judith.” There is also a church in North Cornwall named for St. Julitta, which initially bore Juthwara’s name.

Her relics were translated to Sherborne Abbey in the early 11th century, and her shrine remained a place for pilgrimages.

1 CORINTHIANS 10:12-22

12 So, let him who thinks he stands to take heed lest he fall.13 No temptation has overtaken you except such is common to man. Still, God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you can, but with the temptation will also make the way of escape, that you may be able to bear it. 14 Therefore, my beloved, flee from idolatry. 15 I speak as to wise men; judge for yourselves what I say. 16 The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not the communion of the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not the communion of the body of Christ? 17 For we, though many, are one bread and one body; for we all partake of that one bread. 18 Observe Israel after the flesh: Are not those who eat of the sacrifices partakers of the altar? 19 What am I saying, then? That an idol is anything, or what is offered to idols is anything? 20 Instead, the things the Gentiles sacrifice they sacrifice to demons and not to God, and I do not want you to have fellowship with devils. 21 You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons; you cannot partake of the Lord's table and of the table of demons. 22 Or do we provoke the Lord to jealousy? Are we stronger than He?

MATTHEW 16:20-24

20 Then, He commanded His disciples to tell no one that He was Jesus Christ. 21 From that time, Jesus began to show to His disciples that He must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and be raised the third day. 22 Then Peter took Him aside and began to rebuke Him, saying, "Far be it from You, Lord; this shall not happen to You!" 23 But He turned and said to Peter, "Get behind Me, Satan! You are an offense to Me, for you are not mindful of the things of God, but the things of men." 24 Then Jesus said to His disciples, "If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me.

Commentary from a Church Father

John Chrysostom (AD 407): Therefore, the rest being troubled and perplexed, Peter, again in his ardor alone, ventures to discuss these things. And he does not discuss them openly but only when he has taken them aside. Having separated himself from the rest of the disciples, he says, “God forbid, Lord! This shall never happen to you.” What is happening here? The very one who had obtained a revelation, who had been blessed, has now so soon fallen away, so as now to fear the Passion of the Lord, and thereby his faith has been overthrown. It is remarkable that Peter, who had not yet been fully instructed in the course of revelation, should come up with these responses. The larger picture had not yet been revealed to Peter, who was confused and overwhelmed. Peter had learned that Christ is the Son of God. But he had not known of the mystery of the cross and the resurrection. It was as yet not manifested to him. It remained hidden. Do you see how correct Jesus was in forbidding them not to declare his identity publicly? For if it so confounded the disciples, who were being made aware of it, who knows what the response of others might have been. This is why he rebuked Peter and called him Satan: to signify that he is voluntarily coming to his future suffering. The Gospel of Matthew, Homily

[toaofthevoid-blog]

i want the main characters of miraculous ladybug perform mili's "Fly, My Wings"

having an idea of Adrien performing "Fly, My Wings" (Yi Sang's theme, kinda) on the piano and Marinette on the vocals

by the third stanza the audience hears a second piano joining in unison with the first, and by the fourth stanza it becomes increasingly apparent that it's movie!Gabriel performing alongside the two

because because ebcause the first two stanzas heavily remind me of Adrien (tho show and movie versions have vastly different takes on it)

the third stanza is very Gabriel to me with him falling into despair as his wife falls ill until her passing, and the fourth stanza can be both about him unable to move on as well as Adrien getting caught in his dad's own despair and shit

and the final stanzas should be Adrien and Gabriel after they confronted each other at the climax of the movie, of Gabriel forsaking becoming Hawkmoth bc he just realized he's gone too far and harmed his son (as well Adrien slowly becoming free from the shadow that his dad cast over both his life and Paris)

[asfearlessasamango]

Your blog is one of the primary methods i see new poetry on tumblr and it’s so nice!! I guess I wanted to ask abt some of your favorite poems or poets if u have any? Do you like writing poetry as well? Louise glück and Terrence hayes are my favorites

this is so sweet I’ve been sitting on this for a while ���️❣️but oy vey, my favorite poems and poets, what a question...

i'll answer your second question first! i do like writing poetry but it almost never occurs to me. i'm a long-form beast, I love the novel, so poetry is not really my native form, if that makes sense. So I really only wrote poems last fall for my poetry writing class, and now I mostly only work on a piece if the seeds of 1 good line have been bouncing around my brain for a while.

some favorite poets.

gabrielle calvocoressi: "miss you. would like to take a walk with you". she has a few poems written in that above style, almost like a series, and they all get me in my heart by the end. she also wrote "hammond b3 organ cistern" and I think it's extraordinary how one poet can write such different emotional depths so well.

chen chen! does this sweet modern witty wordplay laid over emotional truths. my url + ao3 name, "as fearless as a mango," is actually a line from one of his poems! while i don't like the rest of that poem so much, I recommend "I'm not a religious person but" and "If I should die tomorrow, please note that I will miss the particular" .

edna st vincent millay... she just perfected that heartbreak: "time does not bring relief, you all have lied" and "sonnet xliii"

w.s. merwin: "elegy for a walnut tree" and "living with the news"

one-off poem favs...

"the quiet world" by jeffrey mcdaniel is.... ugh. I read it out loud in a zoom poetry night and my professor, the host, just had her hands on her head and her mouth open for a second at the end. someone commented "great gatsby vibes" and I was like yes!! I've been considering getting 2 old-timey telephones tattooed, one on the back of each of my arms, facing each other.

"Party" by Kim Addonizio

"What the dead don't need" by Faith Shearin. This one was like a puzzle or a calculus problem in my brain for weeks... and then I got it. excellent case for believing in the afterlife imo.

"Invisible Fish" by Joy Harjo. America you break my heart!!!! (The author is native american, which may impact how you read the poem.)

"Your night is of lilac" by Mahmoud Darwish.

"The Sciences Sing a Lullaby" by Albert Goldbarth. More effective than melatonin imo

"The Conditional" by Ada Limón. If you like glück I feel like you'll like limón!

"One Art" by Elizabeth Bishop. I didn't react to this poem at all the first time I read it in high school but one of my classmates came in and said it made her cry. The trick is to read the "--" as a breaking voice and to know that this is a villenelle, originally a French type of poem that has a very specific line repetition pattern throughout the stanzas and a traditional focus on sad / disturbing / horror, gothic, grief themes. "Mad Girl's Love Song" by Sylvia Plath is another villenelle. With that context in mind, also pay attention to the increasing severity of loss throughout each stanza, until the ultimate bigger than losing a continent loss happens.

"the saddest poem I have ever written" by debbie milman is incredible.

finally... "come and be my baby" by maya angelou.