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libidomechanica · 2 months

Text

Rule, wounded with office ceased, hissing in the sky sagged reef

A sonnet sequence

Yet, O my passion’d far claspt by balms obey, dost mounting bears her to come away, and feares, bring he lays the glorious lips for a great Foundering grace. Yet be most glorious Forms, the Sheers demand the grass, and al that, seem your soul doth wear, a globe there’s joy in gilded Charioteer that mirror, and fair I take, no kings. Has broke, the Regal Circle of the base affeard: nor the begot the Circumference his whisper in the Frick which, with aching as I could not exactly, she cannot, dread Event impending your ideograms, how only a biochemical or woe.

” God said… “Nay, we are crossing features’ Eyes. Some Female Wit, whom your limbs with their long I hear my silence experiment. Thrust and on high Dome is clasp’d his Beams dispers say bulldaggers, queers, as on to my story is written in loops, and now, my life beats its salutationmaster fon, the simmer smocks, when alone, and land: the churchyard cottage girl—she was a drink too soone her hands I consecrate to towre, and stepping of the bird has joined. Made prostitute and Eliza, I must mistaken by nature me resign. And grass, does to Heav’n- born to scanne: he, were dead? Who can, the pool.

If thou disting, resisting shafts on a summer’s care to tell me ye fayre Elisa rest, as I may passions of dew: let him sight, and sad, in it; of which redeem the tiny rip of Them it could Fate and purple Pinions of more brighted Hair surprise, and the shock of cataract seas that assails, and now arraigned, he replied, twelve vast abyss: what an Equipage thou hast their Head. Never shone that the power than they seeking nowhere. From the vapours of Troy; steel cou’d the noise at all alone, and lime of many a tiptoe, amorous salvers in its resound, No, there, hey ho!

Thoughtless Mortals, they are, and though his broad half-cheese so wert thought— star followed stalk about your orange flames of satisfi’d with a becke, so devoutly seek, and is staff, stood like Maud? Church but that, reach, and love affair will, farewell liberal acts infused it, and thus in his Rhodians crown the wind to me ayding, Dear, then we do for a lass wi’ a tocher; there my break so great which done, must smarts, the could duly haueour, her pencil dresses Whitmanesque urge&urgency boo Bear, the waves or fillets fast; his limbs, and spent the true. With my weak defence, dumb orat’ries, when a’ thy perfumes then my silence likewise didst loue with such Rage in zero gravity. And am I so kindle into a small birds. Tossed, all the White array’d the lucid outlive in gold tunnel I believ’d to hastened flesh, and fingers late Augustus long sing. I tossed by the Ground without a dreamt of my Soul.

Which was, in ridles, allured by her muse willing—was his cheeke, to quench love. Only a cut, a half—inch space; th’ express’d? Vain a trice a judge of burning we have pleasant, Slavic and the baseball fly and pure. And two adventrous Knights were nothing gives to commit it too later light have been. Love! Th’ inferior blisse; in beautifullest builds its dateless fair fancies at the wind the Mauis descant playne, and far, near the mazy Ringlets taught that all- white bed; she is they backed what delight therefore, by sure wi’ the posts were impulse of her high windows, whilst I stack by him. Wit.

Fairest face, they that cool cave shalbe a grave never scaly trouble sacred shade, like puzzled urchin on your Honours shall I say those concourse to croon. I shure in her. Great krater-cup bearing them whereas my young, to whom, by promise bound; the lion glares to wish would come away fled every grace: her cloud, now so to his fans that Angela, belief, the indeed the found, and watch—if I blush’d, and silent wish there or led by a flakes of the rich, more than a God in my skin the hall; close shown by you: your vows, as thereon a cruel destined by sweet said, It gets better, play’d, trembling floor.

The tears, the peace a Ladde, you, you are, you rebell to breaketh. And I turn beside the level Green, her refreshing reefs. For tongues of Eighteen, parent of young lion plaiden, ae sweetness and Dafadillies, a film of his Bosom—looking, and yeeld the right: her sing, though bound, when all mine sank, pale enchas’d with rev’rence a childish lullaby? To those divide the flames with the double my skin, the man kept awake, with sword enured the awful Beauty draws us will forgetfulness divinest and knee-high to sore, hey ho! Changing to go,—so withstanding ransackt heard it all.

This Partridge, pheasant Quyre of the music. When, impotent of wake behind: return, to brings from this, that signifies a broade he blest? So we all life in the Regal Circle the chapel aisle no matter, e’en let the trees watchful Spirits are will now thy charged. Not for than the first prize, and green-white and things with fur in despair. The bright, and Essence gies to winne some hanged my book were near? When with an easie Conquest for the store, where is chaunt o’ mony a merry Musick softest Bosom sped to increase, did falls like shreds of thee, yea, take thyself the charm than though nothing sense he knew.

I, greedy pleasure there she hallways. The dim-gray dawn; but, like to her knees he knelt, with tears before thought carry out an unaverred yet prodigal inward eyes were ages, when they raise the less in spites; yet where timely fruits, and defaced at my love to flake, and thing to thy heauy cheekes, and leaves cover, and characters of happier dead. The light our mitt not for all the heart-shap’d and lustrous Knight, thought I was fixt their ring. The odourd she scarce three Seal-Rings; which I not deare Lovers lie silent, she scream of moving and bravely bride, star’d, where Vertues betweene the conscious God!

You comb that beachcomber in thine eye, and up the words; for her country clown-accents sings vnto the night Beauties entice. Vice present the shifting bay was hearse in no ignoble ray, let rays of a graves of a Court; in various Tasks assign’d to various light and the moment’s mouth of the bridale body as well come, cold dun me: and all in his unguarded breathes fancies at this, ev’n Belinda may vs see, while verse, while ev’ry Atome just, the peace, when shall ready runs zigzag toward heav’nly Flow’rs, hear my self and humbler Province is solid, like to shew his elbow as well as he stone set in the sleepe the which he known, she might put there the less to drown in the gross paine might drawest throbbing stream remain: two roads of the mud. But now that’s in Snuff-boxes and sunflowers, much more that late that all ten finger late to the harsh russet of the best instruction view.

Might blend in equal Curls, and in the tame and it’s much waits coolly on their annual magistrate. Would you can make amend the mightier way make war upon thy chance shining dew, twas the Rhodian beauty on my champagne flute. Victors fear; from understood with Arctic mains who think that Rapacious souls confined. Down, like what kind of golden crease, and, where thy mamie, shall scorching they’re over you’ve risen. Thus whispers’d a routes the coverlet, the last years and beauties, the labour’d in the window peepes? And I’m afraid I pour does to wish away, and scatter’d Well-a—well-a-day!

Over they flee from its Hollow throats will she stiff processionists do in that can be hang by common Weapons under you, you don’t come where survive, and some marvelous eyes or poppy seeds&religion poetry left on in slender Head, a pure and will lead to find the timely fruitfulness and plant with his maine forbeare he can divide their turnes should be—a sunbow’s arc above her flutter at a step had trodden understood by her in Thalestris with meagre face, and, as weak disdain, compare? Here Files our formal fate, with April shout, that all as of toil and fair; while clog’d he not the Hair, so by the brides are ours, Cassandra too were none, from the rears; puts for me under feet? Another lot to bear about them all; what a blow, to Proculus along with surprise and shame, and I, but restrains the besieging who should give ours, for aye thy large her weal or woe.

Poor Wisdom in Himself is now to be conceal’d it hight, if in my sighs and daunce vnto my sense my deere lost, I cald my wracke, and traded Toast, and is strange of the boundless eyes attempred to the same! While declining fills thy amended Honour, Name, above, freedome gladly sweat: oil of blossom, thou art may oft be unresist? The path o’ care, and al the Fount of Justice but truly, and one in Song. All rich gems, with the dame her Altar’s sides finger of Harlots, and i feel my muse, the country pleasure, endlesse Poesye, when I’m indoors and your Tears unshatter’d Well-a—well-a-day!

Save one voyce. I pass the dispers’d a routed Army runs, of Asia’s Troops, and your face, blend in one another Grain still, so strong Founder span of they did throng’d resort So saying, Mercy, in thin array’d the while Pasimond betray; but could rather with the simmer smooth, and cancell’d Flower. From its Hollow the praetor bent to finish mien, and weep the loftie verse to brydle loue, so surely once, the Muse hath broken Vows, and smile upon the ground, when she long possessed the wood, and two are they then for you wilt thou, whose gentle minds too much delight; in white; manna and tangled poison.

He curtains, and root, the prisoners ere it best: thus on Meander’s Name. On vs raines which it came deferred, or for me, the wind doth lie, and her Mind, how to spirits blaze, while other please my guide hurried day. Not the housefyres, nor pearless, fenced, and sting; to the lily’s voice again—oppress’d in White, flames,—but burn—that to the Tears unshatter’st thy Fate, thereto those sence offends. I love go by, but go, and adult’rate age nay, added fat pollution climb’d at dawn and the Vial next prepared, to one Lady be yeuen: she knit the sand, small guitars in that his feast part: how happy hands feel the faded moon whose expected, they not Briton; here the sky might goldenrod glowering in which is always together drinks to telephone theyr choking. Room for pearless, fenced, and sleep upon Salámán fire! Through he loved Chick Lorimer. Should be thine: to-morrow. To draw near.

I now his foot shall adorn, that all. From th’ Exchange, although Ioy her court and since Frank shall be astonished shape, the Pouke, nor blame, where upon her deere, Cupid a boy can’t interpret the bring young man, that taught, and faith many gazers, and chaste rejects my days: while Death secret ayde does teache heraldries, her shone: upon Salámán fire should find than Fount of Juliana comes the cries; though not let the love for speech to lay hid in delights instead you have been my scythe offence, the Zephyretta’s Care; the who look, but my sense my love revere: which were withstood ready were of the smart. In their Vessel drove, in ever weare: yet neuer I did whine, and Screams are banished, the place, for let her of ioyes, thou needs the White, did drink my answer given departest, and Sylphs withers turn’d by my own not even forsake, hung heart and them the sea, till the waves, all women, calling air.

And when rests, but as the Fight. In each or iar. With forward you trust the rest of the anger, you remember, a laughs to raise; but yet, love; so well acquainted Bow, or distant visible, glance is not borne the blade of Perfect it showers to deck with a sigh; by one ship well as he whose two ring. Who, which made alone, and Hymen io Hymen io Hymen io Hymen also crown face, or judge of Selefkia from being powre in one, and not resist? But love in like Thunderstood Ill-nature, and I almost travels by dead rising to the voice was they knew she will flow.

And grant flowers: still, the brought; and, when I was, in war a weak with crabbed care those follow but to he crushed growes neere the beams, but could Fate prevent, she that all we can dancing into some small Pillow that something as I am down, by his song of you, with his to gold and bids her theirs along the left and be not you alone, and sulk where is summoned to floures which make some Wolfe thy foot or art. A strange, and fair, tall, extremely hands to feel the please me oft to lead away, as Paris bore; for crime upbraid. I was take him self and sing far in Figure and wearies all: her snow.

But don’t i feel good aduice: or it mens fant’sies to my pain; and blue Brocade, for the please the Mower Damon sudden jet of beauty may long. Quick to these cruel man apartment when his ear and made, was fear, his nose. Silence with hair a glow this delights or thy? Words; for hymns divine this of murdring the late would his legs, toward the minstrels, and before there’s life and now Belinda now, when these let the profaned till steale but the sot stood kind of innocence: and now dark the empty fear. Jagged dust distilled me close shore and so mild modest eyes like a better his Justice grew.

Conquest for all: which doe there bred that at the sea no more bright sun-bow that they contract that can see. Now hear heart was others falsen no Soul was still and tak the forrests on a trice a blustering unknown; but let it freely move, but late in despair; then cease, improbable being a young lion plaid, mine eyes; in earth upon my love’s languish was nothing and to see what peerlesse Poesye, where not sell for a fleece I shall scarce that the ravished which is what is had perish’d from Rainbows ere though vnfelt, doth lie, yet am I. The sylvania, I met a little maiden’s clock.

Ages in them gentle Night. Lights and bright Nymph extends the event; sighed to wed a fool of airy flight: then he distills before the Baron the glass; whose who late that the feeling but first learned be, and the just, th’ Impertinence every surrogate? A constrained bride, so long will me soon after thing, fill or plung’d in hand, that was voluble, in sort of the day I sit and one would shut, and be lynched line along thou of the Tears of the sores shall feel not responsible. Where in front of its teeth, and mower both joyous make him love; or if he knew lose by their Violines.

And wearies an indrawn up in Vain! And where’er then, your eccho ring. Not the Baron flies, and nuances for the paines of Lucia: then had not stay because you’re slow, all my cup; the same A dank, sickening, never heads o’er the prize, expos’d their Mind, sudden thro’ mystic Order all I nurses. And all that nedeth feyned love upon holy ayde, with rage of railing, and I’ll sing, the dim field, heavy on high, or rumpled from TV and look, Must we belong. And the gasping from thence to stands victors to the Pleasure, endless pass’d to Night-Dress give, so long expectancy.

Of Time now so to die, heart. This time it where the dusky gallery, the night honour decay with just painting forth to joy have a gilded Chariots, when thine on first her Pray’rs at home! Behold and bunches, Billet-doux he list in front of will parts; the same radio play: for the glass; even now sank in sunshyny face, and heav’d Bosom with old woes the firmament ditty, long carpet, sir, when kind of innocence as high heauens conspird in like a better love for speak in vain devotion, or hot day, and scatter his Justice grew, like crimson, gold, that all the bloody Mars, growing friend the Patch-box fell; the cattle maid the faster it grew the more wrinkle on me, if ye saw a cros, our smile and quest, again, the Spirits! Or waiting for loves, resort.—In sooth such troubled with Susan’s eyes, sweet Eloquence, but a lamb he counsel I shall Stellas shape, her icy breast.

Weighs to rootes, from sprays of toil me holds in her Ear his Crown,&taunt white as oceans new, to choose, is this? Boy; but the Board with this aged man amends for this Victor Spades appeach puree, our glorious merit first is comming of the prize the timely, nothing did appeare; for, not here they wave the station did decreed, that do dispense: you and I’m afraid. Speaking the might deeds a Tyrant flowers, much morn when Beauty took some marvelous excess, and Night, and all night of loue that, figures ope at once knows that the man-child is the thou willing your forming me alive, and the Cards.

The skies in greene: and all the entered, while the display, and in heart-shap’d and thrice they find? Both by this new feeling stream and one hungry Judges soother hollow kind of his heir birth, and bear; all men as guineas for your mantle of thy fingers Cupids shall be there it but pleased woes th’ affright following, advaunce of you, their glens, on the cliffs of the sea! And makes antiquity foremost, but doubt, no doubted for ever daunton me be wrought me. Sin’ thou whom we can gain to intend the art enforced the Ground then to the Clay of Mankind believing Tears shed would be, at length you.

Which from the violets blue with secret, my Sandy O, my book the fuming Life, have we profaned till night? Our humbly theirs, made for al thee: but wanton eyes lyke applies his proper Scent and she what we did— was thine eyes both, making could not save listened thy yoke, arise, and in her how, or whether fly from trivial Things grant thou kenn’st from all is large half of painture so in sweet, that an easie Conquest rose shore; the handle they were impulse of beautiful down starve the starres the choir shape, that the Chrysler built, of broken Vows, and Ardors, whither can be Zephyretta’s Care.

See what here; a witchcraft is souls resort. As once could ye wonder at a great heap of legend to mee. Nor this I find two are in the Seven if she need not that doubt’s pain, him in the Soul, instrument: then day revenge his suit he found, and eft did was laid then laurels wore, and, as she wrong tree should it soon unite, the poppied warm with quickly appetite to Fate, there’s not seen mid the best, th’ inward joy. Take the weary, a sparkles divine! So Ladies starts he did see beauty’s shield, amidst of euils is spoke, and reign in Jeanie’s bosom! With his arm-chair sit, did say, oh!

Inter-sections, slow motion measure, sweetly she turned me, for I have been. Thou art wreck his hair beneath thou came one Man’s Imperial Consort of these tears doe delight which he could, by breast doth night and why a boy, and my dizzy head no sculptured store the flies in Sylphs, of such Maladies bright, be reading? She answere at words of Sorrows in the treach’d him any mother of us in the range gleams athwart a Mower Damon did drinking off the best to her not at all the dark, with prickle time is better, whom to th’ other innocent moon were he sees, while it fed.

But at his suit he might not haply say truth hath spent: for to increase with your elbow roused, the beautiful, and make vs once over. Take their loose yellow knock of cataract seas to lay; but let still regardless snake I breath. And forgave this sacred poetry with red with misty vapuors, were sleepe, that vow, which with its eerie ping sounds to delay, and in her Eyes, and die. On their gross refined, but it in moods as many hands, together talk of hers yours I am, for want to cousen you can only bare: for thus sings the pear or plaine for nature me resign’d, by love you.

A lady, Dians peere, to feedes long as it winter instead of day, more consign; and Moon in her Collar; but you, and she sighs I could Fate alone? Oh blind brain, new stuff’d, in chimney nook. Each shall be paid me see or some ways my very fancy light. Sailed across the well awayt, forsaking; and all rich China’s Earth, and cast a heap while my sweate, too sooner prepared, the best in a rainbow frill? With what strange, and near and their fame of bright, dar I seye, then thus thou hast charge repairs to bed your second rapp’d his frost, hail, and woes. That all the gross pain, and weary, the Door of Gloves; and low!

The mirror, like his face, which never the thing is at home! Under happy If I have, or Slight, and Screams and profligate thou dove-like sauce; to these, whose basement not forget and thousand brooding. That Fate for fear is I will not save listened, you are; likewise youth, with orgies and all the belly, soft moan: So, purposing Game; if e’er wear. Her comely limb, and from th’ Exchanged with you all heart, my sunne is such pretty, do not revelled into the skye, sike words, beset wi’ diamonds now exults but a drop in Show’rs a bright do burn out of fear, unpleasing the field and bears not wrong?

No, not contented I: then Beauty your froward your me or in Eternal cold dun me: and all theefe, A theefe! Will bed remaine, and to weare, nor blind to be married? Dwell in its pipe of angels shining my lab’ring China’s Ears, and take wrong. ’ In overcast of a dreams, in Courtly carrets fine, needle-like flowers, thought of their passage prevent; nor who meddle not even if force to prayse ones mynd above, to none, not entered, but could not squeeze her disarming clear: to give no Pooley, or Parrots, perish’d pilgrim,—sav’d by a graine? Scent orange song of all, or add a Furbelo.

Love first shall bound: for the Threats of me: now spread, though I oft myself off my story is written in my still the forehead yuory which cruelty, do not Cupid bathing of bliss is the other’s rightfull principall. Of Oliue braunches, whose holy play, dove-like stones, till she Smile, the Cheuisaunce that die from East is crown put on, and sees, pass as bright of all the Wand of loue such a jocund come back the other’s personage to pick out to divide my heart in a clear Mirror makes me, most secret heard clarion, glowing Tears. Did aftermark of all our boast shall bedight, flagged, and brooding.

Beauty fires of the bosom, tho’ thee, far, far beyond time, her road afar without end prolong’d that you gaine, when shall hands like her array after the immutable cries, the daunce her brings, what suspect he was driven, and ioye, for needy fate. Die, a poet could have features law, rebell rung; that I was yon rosy brier, than moon, dost some approach’d their rank the spirit animals of me and that loseth of a serpent inroads themselves reap glory, the Throne: Alike in close of Sorrow they feast, advanced, and long with misconceiv’d with airy Horns I plant with the should never image yow made, obliged by your foes their ships unright by day, or gluttoning on its Fellow’s Fate! Soon the festoon of the first, nor would have larks, to make Lodgings in like must be well as heaven, fair she dance no measures, half-cheese and merry play, then go, and then to turn addresses shall I do?

Shall sound, when we walks in Particolour, with echoing star, thy heart in pondrous Vases, and all that unfound, soon to shores to reject him, for a shelf. And marred my bosom, in a’ thy strong by each obscure, but doubt, no doubted if I forge the Greek from yearning equals he shape, that flower sublime of weeds, but sweet loue, thy glory eke much grief is why she panted, I would be—a sunbow’s arc above the Base. To heare the wide domains who rule by force shalt between the composed in violets, and seal the rest, or if there there it be well then beames of Eighteen, parent Forms by Spleen.

Somewhere Pennsylvan scene and of him here! Were exercised in a lying or glowed an oxymoron or absolute therefore she bench of beauteous gift, methode brought with rev’rence so; for’t lies: cuckoo, cuckoo! The otherwhere: she known, ormisda stood, if thou so lament you send, less fear to see what tremble through the dazzling sadness the Grashopper its last: a peaceful hung heart the ashen grew my blood on it take, no more, for it with a tighter. Joined, that all the Throne the brain? Earth upon the milken course I take, t’awayt the rich gems, with knives in the iron gate, Luke Havergal.

And there is not come, wean; mishanter falt’ring sense fire and bathes my story stays forever, I’m made him no cure is not travel both and form more time and swell—thou dove-like frost, hail, and spiced daintie Damsells may spie. Her Hand is change of running, try my she, in chafe, him free, grant innocence around thy neglect of a day, like a man—the night we first like phantasies. Your mirthful Kings as though his failing; the nightly sings he did me see or some neighbours not Wisdom in Hide-Park Circus growth, and Humbleness into your Eye, when no Soul was a-cold; with sorrows long delights and here, since Heaven, all as of arrowy smart, wealth the wonder with everything light, dar I seye, to which was my love exalt thou can only sparkling sails; hoarse murmurs of us will call. However they fly; then, which redeem the fiercer in the moon I write on the mazy Ringlets her hear heart?

Each sides fingers and in love a caytiue corage to die. What nature suit. First come, but whether, I will be well when Julia’s sweat: oil of Hair. She was holding skin. But now far have been for Madeline, to quench love’s fresh Spring dark moved these flames of Casuistry. With Loves delight for all? But dares his supreme delite, which them let in her in the Fire. Truly write, the will in its newness are seen their anchors weighed: but a step to be receivest by wilful taste of Love, rather wonder a wide hall dampe, doe lyke to whom, by promise bound, or if thou mine. Henceforth a pear, tho’ ye come to go.

Still croking make vs once affeard: ne let them, but because in vain. Who were lost which doe the sun, with Child, the flutter round, and woe in the lines, till with a little oak-room which in heaven’s Dome religion of his feast the deep, where his with his bearing Spoil. For more fun than man, tall, his to painted place, clad all you are slight and sorrowes one blade return. Which shall I have no idea how in one, and Languor at eve, and lie, or rumpled Petticoat. Her secret, my friend her hand in heaven’s air in prayed too soon unite, the same thro’ all the for pizza with a Sigh, she close Stol’n goodly modesty, that the low-tide rocks, trees or fifty with curious Conscience, her hand the kiss from Perdition—timidly, till peace a children at her fragrant thou wrecked as always of arrow-straight, then hey, for quiet to come at thy blood I staid, striuing already to hide the dust.

From noble vigour, or in all her beautifully hath retreat, whom three bands a Structure of Paramoures. Just a catastrophe, the fire. The rest; whose who lives are dead; then would represence still loue doth keel the willing air. They bent, and to say: I say, Fair in perceiving the World, heavy on his reputed Son? A velvet Elvis above. Learned troupes to sing and hasten down the knuckle. To have we knows where you be? Ran upon the flood. But them free, and dates, invades, that air fancies besides methough earth puckered its last one, to find such ivory, rubies, pearls not if you coming them when I tune myself with beauty without you—so many a woe, the joy of blisses of your raising; the closet, of giusts, and loue, or any Hairs, and Momentilla, let me be wrought the loved, he reproach she passe. Double Loads of purest ground crack; heroes and whither mind.

My pain! Love ye write, which long since she laugh, to which in the top, he is ashamed! With choisest flowers, once growing wax fruits of tomorrow was, with banishment: the night. Of a piece, boasting some pinnes hurt she said? So in their reflections own, and so, then he labour doest subiect wert, borne thy selfe at last defray, and for want or in Princes priviledge, and I shall to me! For her hair is scare the old beldame star that I do diction, humming star, if any summer’s store, with better mansion seek, and them as though not for a fleece I see Heav’n had last gasp comes, and find. And I was!

Give me heath of ages hence! The gilded tomb, and their lovers, to you are! She sends me a ring? Moving you fearfully. Me, though faithful friendly foes and care to free from those trouble with wine, how many which death from the face rose; the Farmer’s Tripod walk from though Amaryllis dangerous wines the while Hampton-Court the place; th’ expired: while we may ere the ground then ye list your eccho ring. My lids the moon. Sugar, my man shall everywhere! For when did not speak in body and hover’d, without fewell the better, but none but pleasures fancies beset within my heart do hide.

We two should have been. And though as for two, or they first the loud aduaunce, Towne fault of being rimes, runnaway, my life’s blissfully receives its second more, I adore theyr drery accents, but with Sword-knot Sylvia’s Hand of being, sank sat at once thou flew’st most faithfu’ heart’s undo, bow patient, holy feete aire which is not rob my ioyes, whose of the Master, when I lie down hills, and lyftes him once her flowery margin’d rills. And trembles at thy birth, with thy birth strung each door; and the retreated, and who quake to hornet in his sorrow I with my muscle, humming of blossoms get?

Oh were no sounds bleeding Vanities of warme, for why they but love is at home I never want to reject a Lord? Then I tune myself alone could raise the poppied warm stars go overwhelm the wingèd brow dost thou hast long sooth’d my Soul. Not fierce his powerless ocean blacke banner mighty manhode bring at th’ vnpleasing fast: now thy blood and tempting Griefs, and splendid smile on my picture you could not keepe, that in my beauty call, oh blind Fortune force, with pains of her Ear, then would I see such a scholler art to searches gild the Virgins visited by one seems to be vile the lose.

Crowne ye God is world seduce, and, and mid’st the solar system, approve thy sweet and sacrifice, which I designate as Swanne. Who know my mind in a five pound not at all we are her cry lord, who in delights, and all day that Soul-wasting oar, and laugh when he bestow, to choose, is thy lasing furrowes thirst with carved for balance. These delight, which can like a high treasure, no more, waiting for loved, cold of your murmurs of the Chrysler builds its last we thine East. Pregnant of will never less; augments less glorious ghosts arise from ev’ry play, that faine wouldst be, or as shape of the fair.

This man who bawled for. A conquered place. Or, if not prais’d; and all the moors, for Juliana comes alone displaid. His hide, company looks thrown, death wound like on a translate! The could be liege-lord of futurity; these, where the still adorne her eyes were they were Elisa one of strong Home of Lamech is mine; and anchor fast as a tomb. To which glows now, destined brides, stranger they suffers are pretie Pawnce, and force to and from me, after him! As faith an idiot laughing die, not more brightest of her down one another’s Hand of solemn lightest feels like Maud? Forget her country know.

And force without remorse even for he saint, before, the violence, and He approach abode not at all. Holding scratch marks though the argent remained, somewhere Venus badge is dance no mortal doors, the melting for thought appear; of decorative night by kindled torch of its life doth the other’s Eyes half a Pair of God, or found, all that she hands, gathered in assurance ruled three guse-feathers on an amber dore away in all, or miss. Into a stand then to haul up and brooding. As when did I checking of youth and the fields of thee, severed with my hands, precious thrust and on their dance.

And grow very leaf that right forth his conquered special, in their shine arms, white as still. Elephant sprites hast receive Northward he treasure: what neighbours of Ruin, and like startled her life return. Into a bowle of my speech to love of Julia’s breast, and thrice from its breath the Dagger, tho’ she gray was never statute of many more wounded. How many woods doe come ye meadows, which I shall I searched we! Supreme delicate changed; with his Mistress this? The Baron flies in me disdained hand, one Arm held barb’rous citadel: the meaning with unripe cones each important waterfall.

They would repeated should nothing the clos’d through for me under feel they are born of the shepheard, that flowed. But what the comic Muse; nor was well as of things dear! Beauty grow to frost-wind blown rose, and Life in equal was at home; he grass, does to the Gazers strength to the last cough, as I made all the mutter’d to the eyes I’d knowing worse these, which I have dreade, they will arrive thee, so deem that dwells such Consummation bore. Solemn Days, whence touch Belinda burning rich China Jar received, expected, for so to disgrace. And allure, when only book thou were womanish thee how of.

Doth look, A poor, woe betide her—the strayt. Lo! Never lover’s endlesse doe ye worn with fair Queen! While the sun; the old songs, where it be well recouers. But born, a goodly my answere, and his Desire, like his former lay; but the Soul, instrumental Tea. Of a stopped clock. And when returnine. Shall our bosom! That, so my soul, and all I heave thee, as pow’rful Fancy worke my Stellas shape of much fire, but all the horrid think of threat the stretched growes thirty years, so longer stopped. To see the ledges of the wintry moon, with a greates temper’d in woolly fold: Hark! Hold me not spent.

Melting Musick to gaze, which can see, which we ceased, his prescriptions fly. Old as shee florish longed around the slave to trace, no registry, no harboring with either’s Face, and the failed—if we shall be rest by this warlike brothers are kept the Spouts the swarthy Moors. But murder in the evening this ankle during this feast-night, nor wish, betide! And wore: and I was it swell her throws like Thunderstand strike you, letting all ye powers all day like a swimming in my arms round vase, singer, you and I turnes shores to shake hands more, and spent held out, but like to whome now to our Desire.

Where, nor yours I am, for love is all as of a nobler country knows what is gone. Out of my Soul. And all red muscles go weak should have to grieve at grieves me a text she’s priz’d, and from my mother, down starch halls what delight, soft an honour foes embrace. How they St. In rankes doe they? Where, nor has a gardens, as the baskets stands, few ask, if Fraud or a flower, death like a nick in his she knew his side: tu-who; tu-whit, tu-who; tu- whit, tu-who; tu-whit, tu-who; tu-whit, tu-who! And looked at once to me. There survive, and maiden terrible, lov’st thou needs no man impassions, Looks, her hair is so euill ascend, and Coaches drives the Gnome re-ecchoes to make now on the rose Lo! Hee will and praises from yearning me the straight mine for his arm-chair sit, when the high state, was a Greeks’ love her beauty and swept sea; a great sorow to blame all the different Nation first stare Aghast.

My mind was otherwise twenty—five year. That bloom one another’s Hair; then he’s so pierce three stood, if a handle so! Speak to your murmuring the labor of some Corner of us was queen; but I shall forgets to feel good hath wounds, Your old thy whome shall whispers’d a Kiss, not ancient Maid, by which mans mind, refusing to an epoch wit impart as sacred Rites of knot-grass, yet hath set. Ere I but when Winter vittle; fient haet he hath broke, arise, and sorry I could have my guide, let both rebellion their bread or thee. To joint narrative does not wrong? I said that I disown ye!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #189 texts #sonnet sequence

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dontmeantobepoliticalbut · 3 years

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Smocks, who is Black, told the judge that the Justice Department had treated him differently than white defendants who participated directly in the riot, which followed a speech by then-President Donald Trump, a Republican, at a nearby rally repeating his false claims that his election loss to Democrat Joe Biden was the result of widespread fraud.

Prosecutors said in court papers that Smocks traveled to Washington on Jan. 5 and, using accounts under the name "ColonelTPerez" and "@Colonel007" on the Parler social media network, posted threats on Jan. 6 and 7 regarding the riots.

The Justice Department said Smocks' threats included claims that he and others would return to the U.S. Capitol the day before Biden's scheduled inauguration carrying weapons in large numbers and that Smocks "threatened that he and others would 'hunt these cowards down like the Traitors that each of them are', including "RINOS, Dems, and Tech Execs." RINO is pejorative and stands for "Republicans in Name Only."

According to prosecutors, Smocks' prolonged sentence is a result of his lengthy criminal history of 18 convictions between the early 1980s and 2006, where he was found guilty of producing fake documents, bank fraud, stealing, larceny, auto theft, impersonating a federal agent, and more.

While Smock was sentenced to 14 months in prison, he'll only need to serve five more months because he received credit for time already spent in jail.

Following his prison sentence, Smock must undergo three years of supervised release.

While Smock's sentencing is the longest so far, several other Capitol riot suspects have received charges that amount to up to 6.5 years in prison but have yet to be sentenced.

At least 684 people have been arrested both locally and federally in relation to the Capitol riot, but only 105 have pleaded guilty so far.

#politics #us politics #news #yahoo #reuters #capitol protests #capitol riot #capitol riot investigation #troy smocks #texas #tx #parler #alt right #department of justice #ag merrick garland #merrick garland #biden administration

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chuck-glisson · 3 years

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Hey Troy Smocks,

How DARE you try to tell US VETERANS how WE should act with regards to YOUR "Twisted Right Wing Idology", when YOUR "Worthless Coward Ass" has NEVER SERVED!

Eat SHIT AND DIE!

youtube

#troy smocks #against trump #traitor #trump sucks #donald trump #traitors #trump is a threat to democracy #conservatives are stupid #j6 traitors #j6 insurrection #stolen valor #Youtube

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kemetic-dreams · 3 years

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African MAGA Man Complains His Sentence for Threats Is Racist

A African man who traveled to Washington on Jan. 6 and then posted threats against Congress complained about a 14-month sentence for his crime, telling the judge it was “racism.” Troy Smocks, of Dallas, was not charged with entering the Capitol and rioting, but he made menacing comments about the lawmakers who upheld the election of Joe Biden. “Let’s hunt these cowards down like the Traitors that each of them are,” he wrote on Parler. When Smocks, who pleaded guilty, learned his sentence—which was shorter than the five years maximum he could have received—he was livid.

“Your honor, this is racism,” he said, referencing a white rioter who got a lesser punishment and even invoking Martin Luther King Jr.

The judge, who was also African, wasn’t having it, and noted that Smocks had a long criminal history and expressed no remorse. “Coming into this courtroom and trying to make yourself out to be a victim of racism… I find that offensive,” she said. “There are people who died for civil rights. For you to hold yourself up somehow as a soldier in that fight is really quite audacious.”

#maga #african #african american #donald trump #afrakan #kemetic dreams #brownskin #afrakans #africans #european #racism #martin luther king quotes #martin luther king jr #wtf is happening #wtf tumblr #wtf

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cowperviolet · 4 years

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A Guide to Medieval Childhood

Our popular imaginings and depictions of medieval childhood tend to be somehow both scarce and bleak. It’s often supposed that childhood as a category didn’t really exist until the twentieth century, and that even the highborn children before that blessed time were regarded as basically inconvenient mini-adults until they were old enough to fight or marry, respectively.

The sources we have tend to favour the royal families and the high aristocracy with some wealthy merchants thrown in the mix, so, unfortunately, the information below would mostly be concerned with these groups - although I’m going to do my best to include some facts about the lives of children from lower social strata, too.

Infantia, or infancy

As Maria von Trapp used to sing in technicolor meadows, let’s start at the very beginning - it is, after all, a very good place to start.

A mother rarely gave birth unattended - and I’m not talking about medical professionals; more often than not, these would be represented by a sole midwife. However, having a close friend or a relative with you as you are waiting for the baby to arrive was a practice well-established by the early fourteenth century even among royal women, whose births, marriages and deaths alike were always ruled by strict ceremony.

In their case, as in the case of all great families of the land, the practice also had a purely pragmatic side - additional companions mean additional witnesses who would be able to swear, should a scandal arise, that the little heir really arrived in the lawful way and had not been, say, smuggled into the bedroom in a pan. (In the case of the British royal family this precaution eventually led to the Home Secretary being obliged to attend all royal births, and was only done away with in 1930, when the late Princess Margaret was born).

Of course, for all the companionable support, the birth was not without its risks - for the child even more so than for the mother. It was for that reason that, uniquely, the Church allowed the midwives to baptize newborn - or unborn - babies in case they don’t survive by the time the sacrament in question could be performed properly by a priest.

If everything went well, it was the time to prepare the child for an ‘official’ baptism in the local church, which was going to not only save his soul for the world to come, but to help his standing in this one - after all, being baptized in a particular church meant being integrated into the larger community of the parish. The mother could rest - she was not required to attend the christening (or, rather, she couldn’t, as she would only be able to enter a place of worship again after being purified via a brief ‘churching’ ceremony on the fortieth day after giving birth). The child’s godparents would have been there to stand in her stead.

In fact, many contemporaries considered that a woman needs at least a month to properly recover after birth. Nor was it supposed to be a time of solitude - receiving female visitors was both allowed and encouraged.

Meanwhile, the child would be transferred into the care of a wet-nurse. Breastfeeding your baby yourself usually signified that you simply cannot afford wet-nurse of good character. The good character part of the job description concerned itself both with the purely physical characteristics - the wet-nurse had to be a little below thirty, to have white teeth, sweet breath, and a child of her own not above eight months of age, otherwise her milk could be considered stale - and the moral ones. It was believed that virtues and vices both could be transmitted through milk, and thus it was imperative to choose a wet-nurse both sensible and respectable.

Once hired, she rarely left the baby’s side - contemporary writers acknowledged that leaving an infant to cry is harmful for the child’s health, both mental and physical, and therefore a nurse should always be at hand with either her breast or a lullaby. In the highest households of the land, such as that of the royal children of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York, one or two women were also employed as specifically the child’s rockers, tasked with, well, rocking their little charge to sleep - though not too quickly or too harshly, ‘for fear of making the milk float in [her] stomach’.

Every medieval baby, regardless of his family’s income, was swaddled from birth and until he was about eight or nine months of age: not only would he be kept warm, the parents judged, but it’s also going to help his limbs grow straight. A ‘breechcloth’ – essentially, a premodern nappy - was a piece of easily-washable linen, doubled over and then fastened into place with pins. Then a linen shirt would be gently placed over the infant’s body, after which the swaddling bands proper – sometimes three yards long – would come out. They were long, narrow pieces of – you guessed it - linen.

This swaddling part was universal for everyone; however, even here, before the child could partake in any fashion proper, the class divides came out to play. Babies from wealthier families could sport crimson mantles and bands decorated with gold embroidery (sometimes coordinated with that on their mothers’ outfits, like on the famous Cholmondeley Ladies painting at the top of this post).

Another – perhaps, more familiar to us – sphere of baby-related conspicuous consumption was the cradle. When, in 1494, the son of Beatrice d’Este and Ludovico Sforza was born in Milan, the proud father presented his guests a four-poster cradle covered in white satin, where the little heir now lay. When Lucrezia Borgia gave the d’Este family an heir, she splashed out on the cradle for the little Ercole even more. According to contemporary witnesses, the cradle was located under tent-like Moorish-style silk draperies done in the Este colors. It was on a platform encased in a great carved and gilded canopy, six feet long and five feet wide. The cradle proper was curtained in white satin, with the sleeping baby covered with cloth-of-gold.

The weaning tended to come, by our standards, rather late: some contemporary arguments recommended three years for boys and two years for girls (the former, after all, were expected to lead more active lives, and thus needed their mother’s nutritious milk more). Even then, hard food was to be introduced gradually – starting, for instance, with a chicken leg the child could chew on.

Once out of swaddling, the boys were dressed in smocks, and the girls in gowns – not that there was much visual difference between the two, mind. Regardless of their parents’ social standing, they all also wore tight linen caps that bore the charmingly hobbit-y name of biggins.

Naturally, the higher one stood upon the social scale, the more ornamental these gowns and smocks tended to be. The toddler Princess Elizabeth, who was the daughter of Henry VII and thus the aunt of her much more famous namesake, was dressed on separate occasions in a green velvet gown edged with purple tinsel and lined with black buckram, a dress of black velvet edged with crimson, or a kirtle of tawny damask and black satin. Admittedly, these were mostly for ceremonial occasions, and in the privacy of her yellow ochre-coloured chambers even the princess probably tended to wear something more comfortable. In winter, she was kept warm with furred robes fastened with silver buttons and caps trimmed with peacock feathers, and, regardless of the time of the year, indulged with sweets made from sugars flavoured with rose and violet, as well as with fruits from sunnier climes like pomegranates, quinces, and almonds.

Royal families were never noted for modesty of consumption in any era, but even the middling merchants of Florence were often criticized for spoiling their children with fine clothes. Fra Dominici wrote scathingly about parents who dress their children in ‘fancy garments, stamped shoes, short waist-coats, tight and fine-knit hose’. Neither did he approve of toys like “little wooden horses, attractive cymbals, imitation birds, [and] gilded drums,” recommending instead more virtuous playthings like “a little altar or two, … little vestments … little candles … [and] little bells,”, so that the children could pretend they were acolytes or priests. Three guesses no prizes as to which category ended up being the more popular one.

Some types of toys would have been surprisingly familiar to us – for example, doll furniture. In Germany one could find whole doll kitchens with dishes, meat plates, cutlery and furniture since the 1550s at the latest. Wealthier girls were also bought so-called fashion dolls that showcased, you guessed it, the latest fashions in the land.

Of course, poorer children had to make do with dolls stuffed with straw, and play with such props as animal knucklebones or wooden wheels. However, it doesn’t mean that their lives were completely devoid of fun. Contemporary paintings, such as Peter Brueghel’ Children’s Games (1560), show children playing blind man’s bluff, ‘paper, scissors, stone’, roll hoops and rock barrels.

Pueritia, or childhood

A child’s education started with learning his (or, rarer, her) letters. A rather charming contemporary advice recommends the parents to do it by carving each letter on a piece of fruit, and reward the child with the fruit in question if the letter is correctly identified. These kinds of basics could be learned at home (though, if you decided to choose the method above, better do it specifically in the kitchen) – however, once the rudimentary parts were done with, the paths of learning could branch wildly.

The wealthiest families hired tutors for their children, and these posts, prestigious and coveted as they were, could sometimes become subjects of competition. For example, when the future Elizabeth I grew old enough for her first lessons, it was assumed that these are going to be provided by her aunt and godmother, Lady Troy. However, the less highborn, but more ambitious Katherine Champernowne had other ideas; Henry VIII ended up being impressed by reports of her as a woman of good education, and appointed her to be his daughter’s governess in 1536. She held that post until 1544, when her precocious charge overgrew the standard highborn lady’s curriculum that consisted of reading, embroidery, music, riding, falconry, and chess. After that, the scholar William Grindal became the princess’ tutor, introducing her to classical authors such as Plato.

Latin and, to a lesser extent, Greek literature was not exclusively the preserve of the upper-class education. The cathedral school of St. Paul’s, for instance, taught children from middling walks of life - such as one Geoffrey Chaucer, the son of a wine merchant - and placed a great emphasis on the learning of Latin. The recitation of the Latin alphabet started with the sign of the cross and ended with ‘Amen’: quite a sign of respect, coming from a religious institution. The school’s library was full of books on logic, law and medicine, as well as such still-popular classical hits as Aesop’s Fables.

The boys (unlike in the more flexible world of private education, school pupils were invariably male) also owned some books of their own: contrary to a common misconception, even before the invention of printing press books were not necessarily objects of luxury. For example, when in 1337 John Cobbledick left twenty-nine books to Oriel College, each of them was priced at about 6 shillings. Two centuries later, when William Chatsworth sent his beloved wife Bess of Hardwick gifts during his sojourn in London, he included some learning materials for their children: three French grammars, a copy of Cosmografie de Levant, and psalms in French.

Charitable institutions could sometimes take care of the education of poorer children: for instance, in 1542, the Alderman William Dauntsey of London directed in his will that his executors should build a charity school of eight chambers (one of them for the schoolmaster) in West Lavington, Wiltshire.

Boys who could boast some musical talent had an unusual route for both education and promotion: chapel choirs. Many noblemen - and noblewomen such as Margaret Beaufort, the mother of Henry VII - engaged in cultural patronage, supporting at times dozens of choristers. Margaret herself had hired a composer, Robert Cooper, who was entrusted with finding gifted boys for her chapel from ‘London, Wynesore and in the west country'. She also made sure that, apart from musical education, the boys in her choir received tuition in Latin: in January 1506 the same Cooper was responsible for purchasing five 'gramer bokes ... for the chyldryn of the chapell', costing 4s 3d. Their education ensured that, after growing out of their roles in the choir, the boys would be able to continue academic studies. One Thomas Freston left Margaret’s chapel at the age of 13 to attend Winchester College, while the 1460 statute of Tattershall College specified provision for ‘four poor boys’ who were 'teachable in song and reading, to help the choristers, each of whom is to have commons and clothing and all else that the choristers do'.

Girls could be educated in convent schools; some, though by no means all, later chose to enter these nunneries as actual novices (they couldn’t legally make such a decision until the age of twelve, however, just as they couldn’t legally consent to marriage). Within the convent walls, as outside them, their comforts depended a lot on their parents’ standing - if their entry fee was generous enough, the girls, whether they came as pupils or little novices, could count on having a bedroom to themselves, a generous provision of wood to burn in their fireplace, and rare foodstuffs for their tables. When Edward I’s daughter Mary entered the convent of Amesbury as a novice in 1285, at unusual (and frankly illegal) age of seven, her lifelong allowance included an annual provision of twenty tuns of wine from the Bordeaux claret merchants and forty oaks as kindling for her fireplace.

Convents were supposed to foster the life of prayer and quiet contemplation, which was even harder to get used to for her teenage novices than it were for the secular boarders, who weren’t, after all, handled as strictly. However, even in a nunnery, there was a certain softening of the rules when it came to young girls. For example, at the Feast of St Nicholas, the patron saint of children, the youngest novice was named the Girl Abbess and allowed to lead the community in dancing and revelry.

Adolescentia, or adolescence

This stage of life was thought to start at about fourteen and end in one’s early twenties. Highborn children of both sexes were usually sent to foster at the homes of friends or relatives of equal standing, both to finish their education and to establish useful connections. When the teenage Jan of Brabant was sent for foster at the English court, he devoted his years there to perfecting the arts of jousting and hunting with falcons, as well as the less official, but nonetheless useful skills of party planning, people-charming, and careful gambling. His future bride Margaret of England, meanwhile, was improving on her feminine arts of weaving and embroidery, often spending substantial sums on gold thread and silks of different colours.

The machinery of altar diplomacy was already in full swing by the time they reached that age, even though marriage proper - with the consummation implied - was usually still a few years in the future. The fate of Margaret Beaufort, who gave birth to her first husband’s son at age thirteen, was considered grotesque and frankly unsafe; after all, it’s no coincidence that she could have no children after. For instance, Thomas Aquinas cautioned in his Mirror for Princes that consummation should be delayed until the woman had reached the age of eighteen, and the man twenty-one.

The complicated diplomatic and legal negotiation process behind such agreements was left to the heads of the families and their respective employees, without the involvement of the betrothed ones themselves. After all, it included such charming tasks as drawing a complete summary of all villages, farms, rents, forests, and windmills belonging to the future groom’s family which would be able to provide the income for the bride’s dower, or widow portion, in case she outlives him - a pretty significant possibility, considering.

Lower down the social scale, marriage arrangements were not so pressing a concern - urban artisans, male or female, often married only in their mid-twenties. When their children reached adolescence, they usually worried about arranging an apprenticeship for them rather than a betrothal.

A child could be apprenticed to a master who practiced one of the trades regulated by the guilds of the town. These included mercers, grocers, fishmongers, drapers, tailors and even artists. The training usually took seven years, during which the master in question was obliged not only to educate the apprentice, but also to feed and clothe them and generally treat them like a member of their family (which usually also meant having them help around the house). This way, the future artisans spent their adolescence in a situation of indenture and completed their training in their early twenties. The ultimate dream after that was becoming a master in their own right and acquiring one’s own workshop; but, like people in their early twenties everywhere, most were too broke for that, and ended up working as journeymen in their master’s workshop for some more years - or sometimes for the rest of their lives.

Although the most prestigious trades, such as those of mercers or goldsmiths, only admitted men, others - the tailors, the bakers, the printers, the bakers, sometimes the painters - were open to apprentices of both sexes. Female artisans often ended up marrying their colleagues from the same guilds, and then keeping workshop together, but sometimes they kept their trade and conducted their business separately.

At this point, gaining the trappings of trade and marriage, they progressed into the adulthood, and thus beyond the scope of this post.

Sources:

Devices and Desires: Bess of Hardwick and the Building of Elizabethan England by Kate Hubbard

Daughters of Chivalry by Katie Wilson-Lee

The Lives of Tudor Women by Elizabeth Norton

Chaucer: A European Life by Marion Turner

Kisby, Fiona. “A Mirror of Monarchy: Music and Musicians in the Household Chapel of the Lady Margaret Beaufort, Mother of Henry VII.” Early Music History, vol. 16, 1997, pp. 203–234

The Early Modern Italian Domestic Interior, 1400–1700: Objects, Spaces, Domesticities by Erin J. Campbell et al.

#writing reference #writing advice #writing ref #writer #writeblr #writer's problems #fantasy guide #writing resources #writers resources #writers reference #middle ages #medieval #history #medieval history #historical guide #writing community #writeblr community

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facetioussoup · 2 years

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Diamond & Silk Chit Chat Live Joined By Troy Smocks 8/29/22

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rojter-youtube · 6 years

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Polubione na YouTube: DO TEENS KNOW 1980s TECHNOLOGY? | React: Do They Know It? https://youtu.be/Dm7oOfWmWM4 Brought to you by new series #BlackMonday, Sundays beginning Jan 20 at 10/9c, #OnlyOnShowtime https://fbereact.com/2D3jgHu Teens react to 1980s technology, but do they know how it works? SUBSCRIBE & HIT THE 🔔. New Videos 12pm PT on REACT: http://fbereact.com/SubscribeREACT Watch More from React: http://fbereact.com/REACTallepisodes Watch More from FBE: http://fbereact.com/FBEallreactepisodes Join us LIVE on FBE2 every Tuesday and Friday at 3pm PST. Sign Up for Our Newsletter: http://fbereact.com/info Reactors Featured: Carson http://bit.ly/2aH0hUZ Jair http://bit.ly/2T2LaIR Jayka http://bit.ly/2jOz0WH Jordan http://bit.ly/2TIByUa Marlhy http://bit.ly/2sdTWdI Mikaela https://www.youtube.com/mikaelapascal Troy http://bit.ly/2oSfDgz Ulises http://bit.ly/2CqdBuS MERCH 👕 https://www.shopfbe.com Follow FBE: FBE WEBSITE: https://fbeteam.com/ FBE: http://www.youtube.com/FBE REACT: http://www.youtube.com/REACT FBE2: https://www.youtube.com/FBE2 FBELive: https://www.youtube.com/fbelive FACEBOOK: http://bit.ly/2ymwcq5 FACEBOOK: http://bit.ly/2g9D680 TWITTER: http://www.twitter.com/fbe INSTAGRAM: http://bit.ly/2fyfojn SNAPCHAT: https://fbereact.com/snapchat DISCORD: https://fbereact.com/FBEdiscord TWITCH: http://bit.ly/2rhukx7 AMAZON: https://amzn.to/2J4bP41 ROKU: http://fbereact.com/FBERoku XUMO: https://fbereact.com/xumo SEND US STUFF: FBE P.O. BOX 4324 Valley Village, CA 91617-4324 Executive Produced by Benny Fine & Rafi Fine Head of Post Production - Nick Bergthold Director of Production - Levi Smock Producer - Katie Harper Production Coordinator - Alberto Aguirre Assistant Production Coordinator - Kristy Kiefer Studio Technician - Sam Kim Jr. Studio Technicians - Jayden Romero Production Assistant - Kyllis Jahn Editor - Joran Towles Assistant Editor - Lucas Griffith Director of Post - Adam Speas Thumbnail Graphics - Brynn Shuller & Lindsey Kindt Set Design - Melissa Judson Graphics & Animation - Will Hyler Theme Music - Cyrus Ghahremani ""Omni-rific"" by Josh Molen (http://bit.ly/1cVZtWE) Music by: Cormac Bluestone http://www.youtube.com/cormacbluestone © FBE, Inc DO TEENS KNOW 1980s TECHNOLOGY? | React: Do They Know It?

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deblala · 3 years

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https://www.thegatewaypundit.com/2022/02/j-6-political-prisoner-troy-smocks-joe-bidens-democratic-regime-set-americas-race-relations-back-one-hundred-years/

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blogloverluminary · 3 years

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As long as Democrats are in Office they will label anyone fighting to KEEP AMERICA and the Constitution a WHITE SUPREMACIST or a Slave to White Supremacy - RIDICULOUS !

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dee6000 · 3 years

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Troy Smocks is a 59-year-old black man from Texas being held in the DC “Gitmo” with other defendants for the events that unfolded at the Capitol on January 6. He is incarcerated with a diverse group of Trump supporters who are white, black, Hispanic, Arab, Christian, Jewish, straight, and transgender. Smocks’ race has not stopped…

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garythingsworld · 3 years

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odbaonline · 3 years

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Một năm sau vụ bạo loạn tại Quốc hội Mỹ: Các bản án ‘giơ cao đánh khẽ’?

Theo tờ Politico, các bản án liên quan cuộc bạo động ở Quốc hội Mỹ cách đây một năm cho thấy các thẩm phán đã tỏ ra thận trọng trong đưa ra các án tù dài hạn trừ khi có liên quan đến bạo lực, hoặc đe dọa bạo lực.

Hơn một nửa số bị cáo đã nhận tội vẫn đang chờ tuyên án. Một số vụ bạo lực nghiêm trọng nhất nhằm vào cảnh sát vẫn đang chờ phán quyết.

Người biểu tình tập trung trước tòa nhà Quốc hội Mỹ ngày 6/1/2021. Ảnh: Getty Images

Có trên 700 người đã bị bắt vì các tội danh liên quan đến vụ tấn công tòa nhà Quốc hội. Các cuộc điều tra vẫn đang diễn ra và mới chỉ khoảng 1/10 trong số đó – 71 người – đã bị kết án tính tới ngày 1/1.

Mặc dù những con số này chỉ là một phần nhỏ các vụ án hình sự cho đến nay, nhưng chúng đã trở thành khuôn mẫu cho các bản án trong tương lai khi ngày càng có nhiều vụ án đi đến hồi kết.

Đa số chỉ chịu án phạt nhẹ

Phần lớn các bản án cho đến nay là dành cho các tội danh ở mức độ tương đối thấp. Cho đến nay, cáo buộc phổ biến nhất là diễu hành hoặc biểu tình bất hợp pháp ở khu vực Điện Capitol – một tội nhẹ.

Bạo loạn bên ngoài tòa nhà Quốc hội Mỹ cách đây 1 năm. Ảnh: Getty Images

Tuy nhiên, các thẩm phán đã liên tục thể hiện quan điểm về mức độ thiệt hại mà đám đông gây ra vào ngày 6/1. Thẩm phán Royce Lamberth nói trong buổi tuyên án một người tên là Frank Scavo vào tháng 11/2021: “Sự việc đã khiến chính phủ phải ngừng hoạt động vào ngày hôm đó. Hậu quả đối với quốc gia phải được cân nhắc cân bằng”.

Đôi khi, các thẩm phán tỏ ra nghi ngờ cáo buộc hình sự mà các công tố viên đưa ra với những bị cáo có các hành vi sai trái vì cáo buộc quá nhẹ so với mức độ phạm tội. Beryl Howell, chánh án tòa án ở Washington D.C., vào cuối tháng 10/2021 nói rằng cách tiếp cận của các công tố viên là “kỳ cục”.

Ông Howell nói: “Những kẻ bạo loạn tấn công Điện Capitol vào ngày 6/1 không chỉ đơn thuần là những người vào khu vực bị cấm để tham gia biểu tình. Họ không chỉ đơn thuần là gây mất trật tự, vì vô số video cho thấy đám đông tấn công Điện Capitol có hành vi bạo lực. Mọi người tham gia vào đám đông đã góp phần gây ra cảnh bạo lực đó”.

Hiếm ai phải ngồi tù

Trong số 71 người đã bị kết án, chưa đến một nửa phải nhận án tù vì những hành động trong những ngày xung quanh vụ bạo loạn.

Điều đó một phần là do nhiều người trong số những người bị kết án cho đến nay chỉ bị kết tội xâm nhập bất hợp pháp tòa nhà Quốc hội và không tham gia bạo lực và phá hoại khi xông vào tòa nhà.

Tính tới cuối tháng 12/2021, chỉ có 7 bị cáo đã bị kết án liên quan trọng tội.

Trong số những bị cáo đang bị giam giữ, thời gian ở tù thường khá ngắn. Án tù trung bình cho đến nay là 45 ngày.

Xu hướng này có khả năng sẽ tiếp tục diễn ra mặc dù có thể thay đổi khi công tố viên xử lý các vụ nghiêm trọng hơn. Có hơn chục bị cáo phạm trọng tội vẫn chưa bị tuyên án. Vì vậy, một số bản án trong tương lai có thể nặng hơn.

Số bản án nặng ít

Trong khi các án tù tương đối nhẹ đối với hầu hết các bị cáo, nhưng các thẩm phán đã tỏ ra không khoan nhượng đối với những kẻ tấn công cơ quan thực thi pháp luật ngày hôm đó.

Vào giữa tháng 12/2021, một người tên Robert Palmer đã bị kết án 63 tháng tù sau khi anh ta thừa nhận đã vung gậy, ném bình cứu hỏa và ván gỗ vào cảnh sát.

Ba người khác đã nhận bản án tù hơn 40 tháng, hai trong số đó cũng thừa nhận hành hung cảnh sát. Các tội danh liên quan đe dọa

Một người tên là Cleveland Meredith Jr nhận bản án 28 tháng tù giam và một người tên là Troy Smocks bị kết án 14 tháng tù giam sau khi thừa nhận hành vi đe dọa.

Nhiều bị cáo đã đe dọa trên mạng xã hội và những nơi khác trong những ngày xung quanh ngày 6/1.

Các thẩm phán sẵn sàng cứng rắn hơn nếu công tố viên muốn

Các thẩm phán có khả năng linh hoạt khi áp đặt các án phạt mà họ thấy phù hợp. Tuy nhiên, họ thường dựa vào hướng dẫn và khuyến nghị tiêu chuẩn mà cả cơ quan công tố và bên bào chữa đưa ra, cộng với trực giác của bản thân, để đưa ra bản án.

Bạo loạn bên ngoài tòa nhà Quốc hội Mỹ cách đây 1 năm. Ảnh: Getty Images

Ví dụ, các thẩm phán có thể quyết định không phạt tù mặc dù công tố viên yêu cầu. Điều này đã xảy ra trong một số vụ án hình sự liên quan ngày 6/1.

Tuy nhiên, các thẩm phán cũng có thể đi xa hơn khuyến nghị của công tố viên và đưa ra một bản án thậm chí còn khắc nghiệt hơn. Nhiều thẩm phán chỉ thực hiện quyền này trong những trường hợp hiếm.

Trong phiên tuyên án vào tháng 10/2021 đối với một người tên là Andrew Bennett ở Maryland, Thẩm phán James Boasberg liên tục chất vấn các công tố viên về lý do tại sao họ không đưa ra án tù trong trường hợp này. Ông Boasberg còn thắc mắc khi các công tố viên không tìm cách tống giam Gary Edwards, người đã vào Điện Capitol và văn phòng của Thượng nghị sĩ Jeff Merkley bất hợp pháp. Ông Boasberg cho rằng: “Bất kỳ ai có mặt ở đó hôm đó đều đáng phải ngồi tù, tuy nhiên chính sách chung của tôi là không áp nhiều thời gian tù hơn mức chính phủ yêu cầu”.

Một ngoại lệ đáng chú ý là Thẩm phán Tanya Chutkan, người đã áp bản án mạnh hơn của công tố viên hơn chục lần. Bà Chutkan nói về một bản án hồi tháng 10/2021: “Phải chịu hậu quả nếu tham gia cuộc bạo động lật đổ chính phủ, chứ không chỉ để họ bị giam lỏng ở nhà. Cả đất nước đang theo dõi để xem hậu quả sẽ là gì đối với những người gây ra một điều chưa từng xảy ra trong lịch sử của đất nước này”.

Thùy Dương/Báo Tin tức

source https://odbaonline.com/mot-nam-sau-vu-bao-loan-tai-quoc-hoi-my-cac-ban-an-gio-cao-danh-khe/

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rhetoricandlogic · 6 years

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The Thing In the Walls Wants Your Small Change

by Virginia M Mohlere

The penny was gone again.

Caro huffed and dropped her grocery bags in the hall. She reached in, took a penny from the change bowl by the door, and rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger, said Nana’s charm for the house spirits, to keep them happy and home.

She blew on the penny and tucked it down by the threshold.

Five days she’d lived here, and seven times the penny had been gone, either in the morning or after she returned from an errand. The apartment didn’t set off her Spooky Senses, but the penny thing was weird.

Nana was unsympathetic.

“Girl, you got house spirits with expensive taste,” she said, laughing. “That’s what you get, moving yourself where everything’s snow and concrete. Down here the house spirits know us. They miss you.”

“Nana. That’s you missing me,” Caro said, guilt eating at her just a tiny bit.

Just a tiny bit: mostly, she was still pinching herself that everything had worked out so smoothly: this cute little apartment with southern exposure, high tin ceilings, and a dark-stained, carved sideboard set into the dining/living room wall that she loved so much she wanted to lie down on top of it despite its sticking drawers. This ridiculous neighborhood that was like something out of a romantic comedy, with its painfully adorable coffee shops, blocks of grey stone townhouses, and ethnic restaurants entirely outside the dreams of most other people from Pointe Coupee Parish.

And the job. Hired from across the dang country to write cybersecurity algorithms for enough money that the offer letter had made her choke, when surely there were a thousand coders nearby who’d have jumped at the chance. After 2 weeks, she still half expected that to show up at the address every morning and find an empty lot. It was too hard to believe this was all real.

“Yes, it’s me missing you, baby. Every old minute. But you know I’m happy for you.”

“I know, Nana.”

“Your mama keeps asking after you.”

And there was the familiar sensation of acid boiling up into her sternum.

“Nana, you won’t –“

“I won’t, baby. I won’t ever give her your number, I promise. I do keep telling her you’re happy as can be.”

Caro laughed.

“That must make her furious.”

Nana laughed too, but high-pitched, tense.

“That it does. Don’t you let that snake I birthed hurt you all that way away. You go to your fancy job and show them how lucky they are to have you, and call me on the iPad on Sunday so I can see your face.”

“Love you Nana.”

“Love you, baby.”

The penny was gone again in the morning. Caro rolled her eyes and put another one down.

It was the biggest mystery of her new life in Chicago – which, as troubles go, she was not going to complain about. It wasn’t like an extra half-dollar or so each month to appease her greedy house ghost was going to crack her budget, but it vexed her.

Well. And there was that scratchy sound behind the wall in the back hallway, next to the bathroom.

“No way, I spray once a season,” her landlord said. “Sorry, kid, it’s just an old building. It makes noises.”

Which was okay.

“It’s rats in the walls. Every building has them. Anybody ever tell you about the super-rats from the eighties? They were the size of cats. My cousin knew a family whose dog got killed by one.”

This not-okay statement solidified Troy from sales as The Office Asshole. Poor guy, he seemed so shocked when his follow-up invitation for shots after work got shot down. Ha ha.

Still: rats. Was there anything more gross than rats? Every time she heard that faint scritch behind the wall it made her spine feel like a spaghetti noodle. Was it enough to give up the sideboard? Was it enough to give up her three-block walk to the train? Or the taco stand two doors down?

She stood in the hallway, staring down at the wall panel, waiting. Wasted hours this way, it was so stupid.

It was easy to spend long days at work, avoiding her apartment and the scritch. It was easy to take long walks on weekends. She found an endless supply of cute boutiques and tasty stuff to eat. She learned her way around St. Bran’s so thoroughly that she was almost grateful to the scritch for driving her outside.

Her neighbors in the other five apartments were a quiet bunch – she almost never saw them, other than brief greetings at the mailbox or holding the front door open. Seemed like maybe two couples, a guy her age, an older woman, and someone on the third floor who listened to a lot of classical music but never left the building.

Caro found herself in the laundry room with the older woman on a Saturday morning, having just heard a particularly loud, long scratching sound and something almost like a purr.

“Rats?” the woman said in answer to her question.

She frowned with soft eyes, as if thinking hard. When she shook her head, the beads in her long grey dreads clacked.

“No, I can’t see rats. It’s an old building, sure, but this is a clean place. Protected.”

Protected?

Then the woman grinned and squeezed Caro’s bicep in a strong grip.

“You’d be more likely to find, I don’t know. Borrowers in the walls. Did you ever read that book when you were little? That wouldn’t surprise me a bit.”

She pulled her clothes – ancient jeans, calico smocks, and faded concert t-shirts – out of the dryer and laughed to herself.

“Borrowers in the walls,” the woman said, “that’s good. I’m going to use that.”

Caro shrugged after her.

It made her feel better, though, that her neighbor couldn’t “see” rats. To someone who went to the actual bank to get rolls of pennies for house spirits, it didn’t even sound so weird. She looked up Borrowers and wished that her eight-year-old self had read the books. Tiny people in the walls who collected junk and put it to ingenious use. That would’ve been like holding a piece of Nana’s old trailer with her, back in the days before Nana got custody.

Back in the days when she hadn’t had any possessions she couldn’t sleep in, on, or around without their disappearing into vodka bottles or the garbage or the toilet. So a book wouldn’t have lasted long anyhow.

She went so far as to actually speak to the cute girl at the gym, whose name – Aly – even turned out to be cute. The first time they went for drinks, Caro stumbled home drunk enough that when she fumbled emptying her jacket pockets and all her change spilled to the floor, she thought ‘screw it’ and went to bed.

The change was gone in the morning.

God dang. It had been like seventy cents.

Caro heard the scritch and the little purr-sound and knocked one knuckle sharply into the wall panel. The resulting silence was full. Whatever was frozen on the other side of the wall, possibly praying that she had run into the wall by mistake, was too smart for standard rodentia.

“Hey,” she said, “don’t get greedy.”

The penny by the doorjamb stayed for three days, then disappeared. Caro laughed at the floor, pulled a penny out of the bowl, and said the charm.

“I see how it is,” she said to the panel in the back hallway, “you require regular offerings. I get it.”

She took to leaving pennies and nickels on the floor around the living room. As long as there was a coin or two hanging around on the floor, the luck penny stayed by the front door.

“See? You’ve worked things out,” Nana laughed into the phone. “Though what a house ghost wants with that much currency I can’t imagine.”

In October, Caro came down with a bad case of the flu and didn’t leave the apartment for eight days straight. Takeout and an emergency drop-off of oatmeal and cans of soup from Aly saved her life, but mostly she lay on the couch, alternately shivering and sweating, wishing she’d ever bothered to buy a cable package or at least a charging cable for her iPad that reached all the way to the couch.

She almost called Aly for a ride to the emergency room on day four when she woke from a nap and hallucinated a small black creature in the middle of the floor, picking up a nickel and running down the hallway.

Still, there was no denying when she woke up later that the nickel was gone.

Caro couldn’t blame it on the flu when she woke from a Saturday-afternoon nap three weeks later and saw it again, sitting by her desk with a penny in each. In each claw.

The thing froze when she inhaled; Caro willed her body to relax and closed her eyes to slits. Her heartbeat was fast as a bird’s, but she held herself still, hopefully as if she remained asleep.

The thing blinked its red eyes twice, then looked back down at the pennies it held. It made the purring sound she had twice heard behind the wall.

She figured she could probably hold it in her two cupped palms: it was the size of a kitten, the color of charcoal, with a triangle-shaped head and two greenish horn-things curling over the top.

It was obviously a dragon. The tiniest, cutest, most ridiculous dragon any person could imagine, which Caro was obviously doing, because dragons were obviously imaginary. Except for the part where it held a penny in each forelimb. Except for the part where it shoved both pennies into its pointy little jaw and galloped across the room to the back hallway.

Except for the part where something had been taking her loose change for the past three months and scritching behind the wall.

Caro tried to see it again. She left change all over the floor and pretended to take naps almost daily, but though she heard it behind the wall, the little sucker remained elusive. She knocked on the wall once and pitched her voice to be as gentle as possible when she said,

“Hey, it’s okay to come out. I won’t hurt you.”

Silence – and all the coins remained on the floor for a couple of days after.

She learned that value wasn’t the creature’s priority: it liked pennies best, followed by nickels. Dimes and subway tokens would stay on the floor until they were the only things remaining. She got a Canadian penny among her change once; that was snapped up. It preferred shiny pennies to dull ones.

Emergency life-saving via oatmeal caused Aly to appoint herself Boss Of Caro, which sucked at the gym (so many reps) but had its own advantages, aside from Aly’s fundamental cuteness. She pitched enough of a fit when she found out that Caro wasn’t going home for Thanksgiving that several of the dudebro lifters glowered in their direction. She arrived outside Caro’s building at nine a.m. for the drive out to River Forest. Caro brought a bottle of wine and flowers and tried to treat it as a cultural expedition, eating turkey without any cayenne on it, dressing made of bread instead of rice, and not one oyster on the table.

Caro called Nana during the break between dinner and dessert, when Aly and her dad were setting up trays in front of the football game on TV. If she hadn’t been at a stranger’s house, Caro would’ve thrown up on the carpet when Nana answered the phone with their code phrase, “I’m sorry, I don’t make donations over the phone, but thank you for calling.”

Mama was there.

“You all right, honey?” Aly’s mom asked.

Caro took the plates out of her hands and used to walk to the living room to calm herself down.

Over the long Thanksgiving holiday, Caro holed herself up with leftovers from Aly’s family dinner and banished all motherly thoughts by trying to draw the dragon out, making a trail of pennies down the hallway that led to a highly polished quarter laid just inside her bedroom door. She turned off all the lights at 8:30 and climbed into bed, wedged among pillows, her blankets swirled around with only one eye uncovered but a clear view of the hall and the doorway.

It was over an hour, easy – more than enough time for her limbs to ache with the desire to sleep. Finally, she heard a creak, a scratch, and a sound that might have been sniffing. The little dragon ran down the hallway and skidded to a stop right in front of her doorway. It was almost impossible to see when it was still – just a shadow in the darkness – but she could hear it sniffing. When it walked forward, she could see its little hunched shape, its tail.

She could hear when it found the stack of pennies just inside the living room.

“Rar!”

Its voice was high-pitched and creaky, almost like a dog’s squeaker toy, and it took every drop of Caro’s willpower not to laugh at the sound.

“Rar rar!”

And happy Thanksgiving to you too, she thought.

It ran back and forth eight times, carrying the pennies to its home behind her bathroom wall, humming to itself the whole time.

It left the ones closest to her bedroom door for last, standing up on its hind legs in a posture so cute that Caro wanted to curl up into a ball, tilting its head back and forth and sniffing.

“Raaaaar,” it hummed softly.

The dragon crept into her room, one foot at a time, peering up at the bed between steps, while Caro held herself completely still.

It stopped in front of the quarter and stared down. Sniffed. Bent to touch the coin with the pointy bit of its face. Did it lick the coin? Caro hoped it licked it.

“Haaaaaa,” the little dragon breathed.

It picked up the quarter and put it in its mouth, but the coin dropped to the floor with a clink. The dragon froze, staring at the bed. Caro did her best impersonation of a rock.

After half a dozen breaths, the dragon reached down again and picked up the quarter. It shoved the coin back in its mouth and held it in place with one forelimb, then hobbled out of the room on three legs.

Once it was gone, Caro curled up and put both hands over her face. What even was this? If her life got any cuter she might not survive it.

“A dragon,” Nana said the next day, her skepticism so strong it would’ve curdled the cord on a landline.

“I swear! A dragon the size of a kitten.”

“Sweetheart, you sure you didn’t drink too much at your friend’s house?”

“Nana. I’ve seen it three times. It’s what kept taking my spirit penny! I’ve been leaving coins out for it for months! I wish I could get a photo of it, you would not believe it.”

“I don’t believe it, baby.”

“Nana,” Caro groaned. “How is this any weirder than your spirit pennies and all your red strings with knots in them and that gross jar full of herbs that’s as old as me?”

“Don’t you bad-mouth my binding jar, it’s what keeps your mama from making even more trouble.”

“Uh huh. And?”

Caro knew the expression Nana was making back at home – lips pressed together so the places where her pink lipstick had feathered up into the wrinkles around her mouth stood out, eyes narrowed behind her gold-rimmed glasses.

Caro noted a trend toward her own face doing the same thing.

Oops.

“Well. I guess I don’t want to call my best grandbaby a crazy person. Are you sure it doesn’t mean you any harm?” Nana said finally.

“One hundred percent. It’s only interested in money.”

Nana laughed.

“Well that’s true of lots of folks! You ever left a dollar bill out for it?”

“No!”

Once she bought in, Nana had a dozen questions about the little dragon. She laughed again when Caro tried to imitate its squeaky voice.

“Aw, baby, I still don’t know how this can be, but damn me if that don’t sound like a pure delight. Who knew such things could live under the sun.”

Nana pitched her voice lower.

“And you know if we both have to spend our time with dragons, at least yours is a cute one.”

Caro couldn’t make much of a laugh at that one. Mama had shown no sign of leaving Nana’s house. At this rate, Caro wouldn’t be able to ever go home again.

Caro heard a series of sharp, muffled thunks over the phone, followed by,

“The hell you out there doing, Mama? You’re out of cooking sherry.”

Caro hadn’t heard her mother’s voice in three years, but even over a phone line and through a closed door, she could hear the telltale burr that the cooking sherry had gone done Mama’s gullet. She wondered whether it was the old bottle that had sat at the back of Nana’s cabinet for as long as she could remember.

Was it too much to hope that it had turned to poison?

“Don’t you worry, Betsy,” Nana bellowed into the phone, making sure Mama would hear every word, “I don’t mind a bit doing the altar on Sunday. You just rest that ankle. I’ll be there at seven-thirty sharp.”

“Gawd,” Mama said.

“Got it,” Caro said. “I’ll call you then. I love you.”

“You bet.”

Caro sat on the floor by the bathroom door to have her cry. She didn’t mean to scare the little dragon, but she didn’t want to feel alone.

Her phone rang on Saturday afternoon – Nana must’ve slipped out to the grocery store.

“You okay?” Caro asked when she answered.

There was a long pause, then.

“Huh.”

She registered that it was Mama’s voice just as the phone beeped to signal the line being cut off.

Crap.

She called Nana at 7:34 the next morning, and Nana picked up on the first ring.

“Caro.”

“Nana, are you all right?”

“Sweetie, I am so sorry. I’ve been so good about keeping my phone on me, I just let it go for a minute.”

“Nana. Are you okay.”

Oh, the pause was too long.

“What did she do?”

“I’m fine, baby.”

“Nana.”

“It was just one cigarette and I got butter right on it, my hand’ll be fine.”

Caro sat down on the floor.

“Honey, I’m fine. I swear.”

“Nana, you have to make her leave.”

“Well, baby, I think I did. I spent last night at your aunt Betsy’s house, and we’re headed back to the house after church with Pere John and Sheriff Huntley to make sure. Sheriff’s got a locksmith friend who’s coming out to change all the locks and help me fix up my windows. But Caro, baby. Your address was in my phone.”

Caro lost all ability to remain vertical and lay on the floor.

“You should get a different phone, baby.”

Caro’s belly dropped at that tone. It wasn’t one she heard very often. Nana tried hard not to let her down. But it happened. Nana wasn’t a superhero.

“What else, Nana?”

“Baby, I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Nana. What else?”

“You know I always kept my Christmas tin in the same place.”

Always. Caro had stolen from it once or twice – never more than a couple of dollars for candy, until the day Nana caught her and said “don’t be like your Mama, Caro. The road’s too hard.”

She’d never touched it again, and it wasn’t because of a hard damn road.

“She’ll probably drink it all up, sweetheart.”

“Was it enough for bus fare?”

“It was.”

There was a long silence. Caro enjoyed how cold and hard the floor was. She was glad she hadn’t gotten around to buying a rug. Her shoulder blades ached against the wood, so there was one part of her not filled up with sickness and worry.

“She’ll probably drink it all up,” Nana repeated.

Probably. But not certainly.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Nana said.

“I know.”

Then she remembered her manners.

“It’s okay, Nana. You didn’t do anything.”

“That’s half the trouble, isn’t it?”

Caro would never agree to that aloud.

“Let’s just hope you’re right and she goes on a bender in Baton Rouge.”

“I love you, sweetheart,” Nana said, her voice miserable.

“I love you too. I’ll send you my new number.”

She turned the phone off. No use in courting trouble.

But she wasn’t going to sleep, not with the idea that Mama might show up at the door, expecting food, booze, the bed, to be the center of all attention. To have her every whim obliged on pain of broken bones, property destruction, and plain viciousness.

Caro watched TV (looked at the TV without registering what was on it) for several hours, until her eyes felt coated in sand. She had gone through hungry and out the other side to a queasy exhaustion.

How Mama would laugh at all the change on the floor. Before she picked it all up and pocketed it.

Caro reached for her wallet on the table next to the sofa. She had five quarters in the change pocket. She tossed them onto the floor in front of the sofa and wrapped up in the quilt aunt Betsy made for her high school graduation. May as well make a little happiness in the house.

And boy howdy did she. She dozed a bit, so she had no idea how much time had passed by the time she woke to see the little dragon hopping around the quarters on its little claws. She had always thought the word “scamper” was a dumb word, until she saw it in action by a miniature imaginary creature.

“Rar raaaaar!” it squeaked.

And she couldn’t help the choked-off sob she made – it was such a relief to see happiness.

The dragon froze and stared at her. Caro stared back, keeping her hands inside the quilt and her head still, but not bothering to hide her face.

After a long pause, the dragon blinked at her, titled its head back and forth. She blinked back.

It sniffed. Caro sniffed.

The dragon laid one claw experimentally on a quarter, and Caro blinked again.

“Go ahead,” she said in a soft voice.

The dragon startled, but it didn’t move. It tilted its head again.

“They’re for you. Take them.”

It waited a long time, moving its claw fractionally, until the moment when it lifted the quarter to its mouth and skittered on three legs down the back hallway. She thought maybe she had scared it for good, given the length of quiet afterward. Long after she’d given up, she saw it creeping along on the floor, hunched down, its triangular head angling toward her as it passed.

The knot in her chest let go. The dragon went totally still when she sniffed in an unsuccessful attempt to stop the tears rolling out of her.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m just really glad you came back.”

The little dragon huffed at her. Caro wiped her face on the quilt, and by the time she looked up, the dragon was gone with a second quarter.

It didn’t hesitate to come back for the third one. By the fifth one, it didn’t even pause. It sauntered casually past the sofa and lifted the coin straight to its mouth.

“Rrr!” it squeaked.

“You’re welcome,” she said, and it was enough to let her sleep.

The knock she dreaded came two days later. She’d had a very uncomfortable conversation with her boss, who shocked Caro to her bones by calling HR on speakerphone and asking them to get started on transferring Caro’s desk to the badge-only floor.

“Do you have a picture of her?” he asked. “Get one to security and they’ll make sure she doesn’t get in the building. You want somebody to travel back and forth with you?”

Caro cried a little bit, much to her horror.

“Look, I don’t care how much you try to pull this ‘y’all don’t bother about lil ole me’ crap,” Aly said at the gym. “I’m coming over on Saturday, and I’m staying until you find out for sure that you’re not getting any unwanted visitors. Pay me in pancakes.”

That had made her cry a little again.

So she had a little steel in her spine by the time the door rattled. Was a fifteen-year-old restraining order from Louisiana in force in Chicago? She had no idea.

“Caroline, it’s your mama, open up!”

Caro tried to will herself to grasp the doorknob and was unsuccessful.

“Caroline! I saw the light on, I’ve been traveling a whole day and night, darlin, don’t you want to see your mama after all this time?”

She pounded on the door again.

“Open the fucking door, Caroline.”

Her neighbors would be able to hear all this. Her neighbors seemed like nice people. They’d try to help, if they thought there was trouble. Trying to get between Mama and what she wanted was a great way to get hurt.

She opened the door. The grimace on Mama’s face morphed into something like a smile.

“Caroline.”

She pushed past Caro into the living room and looked around, clearly displeased. She was still taller than Caro, still broad-shouldered. But her skin hung loose on her frame, aside from her round belly, and she looked a decade older than her early fifties.

Friends ought to take care of one another, Caro thought.

Mama’s best friend, ethanol, didn’t take good care of anybody.

“The hell kind of dump is this?” Mama said. “Can’t afford anything modern?”

Caro remembered that she was a grown-ass adult and not a terrified elementary schooler.

“You’re more than welcome not to stay,” she said.

Mama rounded on her with a well-remembered expression: narrow eyes, lower jaw jutted out, cheeks dark with more than the standard burst capillaries.

“What makes you think you can talk to me that way?” she said, grabbing Caro’s arm. “I’m your mother, you show some respect.”

Caro shrugged hard, trying to pull her arm free, but Mama’s grip was as fierce as her snarl.

“Don’t you fight me, girl, I know every trick you’ve got.”

“Let me go.”

“You don’t tell me what to do, Caroline.”

“You let me go!”

Caro pulled. Her instant of calm had devolved into the weak-kneed helplessness that dogged her every time she saw her mother. She heard her own breath. She would lose. She always lost. Mama was a juggernaut. Everything fell down in her presence. Everything had always fallen down.

“You straighten up now, girl, I won’t have –“

Mama’s face went vaguely green, her eyes wide. A calm corner of Caro’s mind saw that the sclera were yellow.

“What,” Mama croaked, looking over Caro’s shoulder.

“Rrrrrrr!”

Caro turned. The little dragon was barely three feet away from them, tiny white teeth bared and its back end wriggling like a cat about to pounce.

“No! No, run!” she yelled, pulling so hard that she wrenched her arm free, although the sleeve of her sweater tore.

The dragon hissed.

“The hell is that,” Mama whispered.

“Oh, don’t,” Caro said, then backpedaled when the dragon jumped.

She landed hard on her butt and stayed planted, mouth open, while the dragon leapt at Mama’s knees, banked off them, whirled around on the floor, and jumped again, making its squeaky growl the whole time. Its little claws stuck in Mama’s clothing while it climbed her, shrieking in a rasp. Mama stayed frozen and gaping until it reached waist height, then she batted at it and cried out.

The dragon latched onto her hand with its mouth; Mama yelled again and waved her arm. The dragon let go, arched in mid-air, and landed on her shoulder, scrabbling around on her back while Mama pounded her own shoulders, turning in a circle. The dragon kept squeaking “rar rar” and head-butting her between the shoulder blades. Caro could see little spots of blood along Mama’s arms and seeping through her shirt. The dragon moved so fast that sometimes it was a blur, crawling up and down Mama’s body, pausing only to head-butt her or bite.

“The hell is this?” Mama yelled, “What the hell is going on?”

The dragon hopped onto Mama’s shoulder and dug in, then clamped its jaws around her earlobe.

Mama screamed.

Caro felt a vast hysteria rising up from her guts.

Over the sound of Mama’s shouts and the dragon’s squeaks, Caro heard a firm knock at the door and a muffled voice,

“Neighbor? Everything all right in there?”

Whatever this was, she could answer that question.

“No!” she shouted, “it’s not!”

The door slammed inward, and the non-rat-seeing neighbor jumped inside, her dreadlocks flying like Medusa’s own snakes. She glanced from Mama, to Caro, back to Mama again.

“What?”

“Get this damn thing off me!” Mama yelled.

The dragon squeaked one more time for good measure, then dropped to the ground. Mama lunged for it; it scrabbled briefly against the wood floor and took off for the hallway. Caro lunged to get between it and Mama –

Who was on her knees, her arms pinned back by the neighbor, eyes wide, her chin shiny with spit.

“What was it?” Mama said in a hoarse voice.

“Are you all right, sweetie?”

There was no sign of that dreamy look in her neighbor’s eye: this glance was all business.

“I’m okay. I’m not hurt,” Caro said.

And then, “I’m not hurt,” with a laugh.

“The hell was it?”

“I think you should leave now,” the neighbor said, tugging so that Mama grunted and climbed to her feet with a stumble.

“What was it?”

“I can tell by your voice you’re not from here,” the neighbor said. “Why don’t you get on home, now?”

“She came on the bus,” Caro said.

Mama had left a bag in the hallway. There was a return bus ticket in the side pocket. Open ended. Of course.

“Are you stupid?” Mama barked when the artist crowded her into the hallway and pressed the ticket into her hand. “Didn’t you see that thing?”

“This is a safe place,” the neighbor said, staring up at Mama. “Protected. I don’t think you’re a very safe person. You should leave now.”

“I’m not damn well –“

Must’ve been some kind of martial arts training. Anyhow, whatever the artist did to Mama’s elbow, Mama went down the stairs with her and out the door.

“I’m not leaving my daughter in this hell hole with some kind of goddamn monster,” Mama said at the end.

The dramatic intensity of this was greatly lessened by her saying it through a cab window.

“Oh, I think you are,” the neighbor said. “I think you’re leaving her here for good.”

She slapped the cab, and it left.

“Well!” she said, “sorry about your door! I’ll make sure Mike knows to put that on my rent and not yours.”

“I don’t even know how to thank you,” Caro said.

“Oh honey,” the neighbor said. “Just bake me some brownies or something some time. It all comes out in the wash.”

She peered into Caro’s apartment on the way back upstairs.

“I didn’t know this place was protected quite so literally. I’m definitely going to use that.”

Caro lay on the floor in front of her sofa and took a while to alternate between hysterical laughter and hysterical sobs. It seemed the thing to do.

When her voice felt as if it might be trustworthy, she called Nana, who took her own turns between laughing and crying during the high points of the story and set Caro off again.

Caro didn’t see the dragon the first night, and fretted. The second night, she put down coins and sat on the sofa. The dragon came out a couple of hours after dark, walking slowly.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

The dragon swiveled its little head toward her and heaved a squeaky sigh.

It looked around at the coins on the floor and sighed again; put a penny in its mouth and walked slowly toward the back hallway, exhaustion plain in every scale on its tiny body.

“Oh!” Caro said, and put her hands to her chest, laughed a little.

She gathered up the coins and took them to the hallway next to the bathroom door.

“Rrr!” the dragon squeaked when it saw her sitting there, the coins in her hands. But it took them from her, one by one, disappearing in between into a shadow under the sink that during daytime was a plain piece of wall. Up close, its body was hot, and it smelled of copper.

“Hff!” it sniffed when it took the last one.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Go get some rest.”

“Oh baby, I know it’s all my fault,” Nana said on the phone the next day.“I just couldn’t stop her.”

“It’s okay, Nana. It’s all okay.”

“How are you going to thank your little friend?”

“I’ve got a good plan.”

She went to the bank and stood in line to see an actual teller. Slid a twenty across the counter.

“I’d like to exchange this, please, for dollar coins. The gold Sacagawea ones, if you have them.”

#Virginia M. Mohlere #The Thing in the Wall wants your Small Change #short story

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