Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

Friday, July 26, 2024

[Reblog] Cosmic Desire or My Week VI

Cosmic Desire
The entirety of the cosmos feels better with you present,

I travelled several parts of it,

Chasing your essence;

Which leaves me gasping every time for more,

Tomorrow is a vain concept without you.

~reblogged from The Master Procrastinator from “Pink and Blue”


Some weeks are busy and full and give me stories to tell. Even if I have to embellish “a little” bit. Those make for great blogging weeks. But boy, do they suck for actually living. Other weeks are a nice slow roll of hour after hour, day after day, night after night. Not much happens during those kind of weeks. I get up, I go to work, I come home, I eat, I read, I blog. I do unfun things like pay bills. I do fun things like watch “Keeping Up Appearances” (for those who don’t know, KUA was the absolute zenith of 90’s British sitcoms. It was the Queen of them all). I really prefer those kind of weeks.

And lo and behold, it was that kind of week. I got some new art for next month, I bought some plane tickets for a family visit later this year, I read the next Metaframe War book (spoiler, the review will NOT be pretty). I ate chili cheese hotdogs. Yes, you read that right. They have the technology, I have the money, and hoo yah, it’s a party in my mouth!

Oscar Mayer now makes Chili Cheese Hotdogs.

This is the kind of week I crave. Nothing putting pressure on me, no emergencies, no “oh no, I HAVE to do X”, nothing but get up and go to work. I might complain about my job at times, but I actually enjoy being a crew chief of a land survey crew. I am contributing something concrete and useful to society, I am not being a parasite or a scumbag. And I can go to bed at night feeling good about it.

Sig P938

One of the fun things I did was starting to investigate a higher capacity 9mm handgun. Right now I own a Sig P938, a subcompact that holds 7 bullets and is small enough for me to wear inside my waistband without printing (ie, having it outlined through my clothes). The only problem is that I’m only accurate with it to about 25ft (8meters) because of the short barrel. That is about 8-12 steps for most people. It means that to cover the doors into our church, I have to sit in the back row. That really has never been a problem because since our church has gone full hog into the streaming mania, the back row was the only place it was easy to avoid the cameras. In the last month we have gotten a 3rd camera that has removed that blind spot. Which means half my reason for sitting in the back is now gone. So it just feels like I am tethered to the back now because of my accuracy issues. The way to overcome that is to buy a full sized 9mm pistol, with a much higher magazine capacity and a longer barrel.

CZ P-10 F

I’ve been looking at a CZ P-10 F, a Czech made pistol that holds up to 19 rounds with a standard magazine. The biggest issue is if the grip will be too fat for my hands or not. I have small hands and most full size pistols are just not comfortable for me to hold. If it fits my hands ok, I could easily sit 3 or 4 rows closer to the front if I wanted to. But right now, this is just all in my head. I don’t have $400 to throw down on a gun at the moment. But I enjoy doing my “homework” on the issue.

And that should be a wrap! From Poetry to Hotdogs to Guns. Just need an apple pie to make this 100% American 😉

Saturday, May 18, 2024

[Art] Spring's Delight

" My eyes open with a burst of stars; 
magic drips from my fingertips.
Flora spreads quick and far;
the mighty waves slow down to gentle drips.
Grass blooms with every sweep of my feet;
my dance quells the raging heat .
I rise at dawn, and the Earth smiles.
Wherever I go, they call me

Spring's Delight. "
~Shruti Pandey 2024

Last year, I had done some online work for Miss Ross. In exchange, she gave me access to a sketchbook and my choice of several drawings. You’ve seen these ones already:

I had seen this one and it really struck me as the Essence of Spring, but considering it was the dead of winter, it wasn’t the right time for it. But now it is May. The trees are leafing out. The sun is shining (when it’s not raining 🙂 ). The black flies are swarming, hahahaa. So I decided it was time. I wanted this to be a bit different, so I sent a sample to Shruti and asked her to compose a poem based on her impressions of the drawing. I was very pleased with the results. I like spring time a lot. I enjoy seeing the color coming back, the sun shining strongly, the warmth returning. While it is not my favorite season, I think it is the one I need the most.

Can you believe it, two poetry posts in a month? I feel very accomplished, like I’m a Real Blogger™️ now 😀 Next thing you know, I’ll be wearing a little black beret, sipping a teen weeny cup of over priced coffee at some cafe and writing in my journal about how terrible life is and the misery of existence itself. How wonderful. It must be spring time!

Friday, May 03, 2024

My Ballerina, She Dances On…

You’re the eye of the storm; a beautiful, maddening whirlwind that swept me off my feet. So unaware of just how powerful you are; if only you could see the impact you leave behind. Holding so much, and yet, your shoulders remain free of their weight. When I look at you, I see a beautiful enigma; universe must have really had the best in mind when you were created by it.
~Original Post on “Master Procrastinator”

Master Procrastinator is about the only poetry blog I follow. Most of her stuff is free verse and I can usually take it or leave it. But every once in a while, she writes a piece that just stabs me in the guts by expressing something that I have felt, or feel, and can’t express. So I will continue to let MP be the Cyrano to my Christian.

Sunday, March 03, 2024

Melancholia

Melancholia By Laurence Dunbar 

Silently without my window, Tapping gently at the pane,
Falls the rain.
Through the trees sighs the breeze
Like a soul in pain.
Here alone I sit and weep;
Thought hath banished sleep.
Wearily I sit and listen
To the water’s ceaseless drip.
To my lip Fate turns up the bitter cup,
Forcing me to sip;
‘Tis a bitter, bitter drink,
Thus I sit and think, —
Thinking things unknown and awful,
Thoughts on wild, uncanny themes,
Waking dreams.
Spectres dark, corpses stark,
Show the gaping seams
Whence the cold and cruel knife
Stole away their life.
Bloodshot eyes all strained and staring,
Gazing ghastly into mine;
Blood like wine
On the brow —
clotted now—
Shows death’s dreadful sign.
Lonely vigil still I keep;
Would that I might sleep!
Still, oh, still, my brain is whirling!
Still runs on my stream of thought;
I am caught
In the net fate hath set.
Mind and soul are brought
To destruction’s very brink;
Yet I can but think!
Eyes that look into the future, —
Peeping forth from out my mind,
They will find
Some new weight, soon or late,
On my soul to bind,
Crushing all its courage out,—
Heavier than doubt.
Dawn, the Eastern monarch’s daughter,
Rising from her dewy bed,
Lays her head
‘Gainst the clouds’ sombre shrouds
Now half fringed with red.
O’er the land she ‘gins to peep;
Come, O gentle Sleep!
Hark! the morning cock is crowing;
Dreams, like ghosts, must hie away;
‘Tis the day.
Rosy morn now is born;
Dark thoughts may not stay.
Day my brain from foes will keep;
Now, my soul, I sleep

(all rights reserved to the author)
~Source: https://pickmeuppoetry.org/melancholia-by-laurence-dunbar/

What a flipping day. I have ridden the roller coaster of my feelings up, down, all around and then by this evening felt like I hit a brick wall. Maybe watching 7solid hours of Martian Successor Nadesico wasn’t such a smart idea. Nor cruising the WordPress support forums and reading the shills lie about what WP.com is doing with selling their users out to AI.

It’s not even 6:30pm and I’m already for the next weekend. Maybe I need to get offline for a week? Well, a good night’s sleep and a busy week of work should help cure what ails me.

Sunday, July 09, 2023

Rehearsals for Oblivion: Act One (The King in Yellow Anthology #9) 3Stars

This review is written with a GPL 4.0 license and the rights contained therein shall supersede all TOS by any and all websites in regards to copying and sharing without proper authorization and permissions. Crossposted at WordPress & Blogspot by Bookstooge’s Exalted Permission

Title: Rehearsals for Oblivion: Act One
Series: The King in Yellow Anthology #9
Editor: Peter Worthy
Rating: 3 of 5 Stars
Genre: Cosmic Horror
Pages: 252
Words: 99K


This was much more melancholic than cosmic horror’y. It reminded me of the later stories in Chamber’s original King in Yellow than of the first ones. Everything was just kind of sad. Part of that I know is because of the inclusion of several poems.

Several of the stories were about the degradation of the human spirit. One in particular was about a drug addict who would screw anything on two feet. The King in Yellow uses him as a prophet, but everything that made him proper malleable material for the King was because of his own choices. The King simply reaped the benefit of the man’s own self-destructive choices. Several of the stories went that route and I thought it devalued the power and the horror that the King in Yellow is supposed to have and be. One might see it as a little thing, but if you are going to write The King in Yellow, you need to write him correctly. Man, look at me, turning into some kind of KiY purist, sigh.

Now, some of the stories were downright awesome. One was a Sherlock Holmes and Watson pastiche where Holmes and Watson face down a Protege of Moriarty’s. Said Protege wants to bring the King in Yellow to our plane of existence to rule so that he can resurrect Moriarty and the three of them (Protege, Moriarty and the King in Yellow) can rule the world. I don’t think the Protege really understood that once he had brought the KiY into our world, well, he would have brooked no challengers to his power. Holmes does a little razzle dazzle bippity boo and defeats the Protege and thus keeps the world safe.

Another story that I thought did the mythology great service was “Yellow is the Color of Tomorrow”. It takes place in the alternate universe of the United States where Winthrop and Thorndyke had been President, the Indian and Negro states had formed their own union and the suicide booths were in regular operation. The story follows a man who buys a used collection of books as a way to push off the ennui of living in such a society. He ends up reading the King in Yellow, goes completely mad, kills the old bookseller and the story ends with him realizing what he’s done and heading off to the suicide booth so he doesn’t go to jail. It captured the feel perfectly from Chamber’s original story.

The final story in the anthology, “The Purple Emperor” tries to open up a greater cosmology. In it the narrator is a devotee of the Purple Emperor, some higher order being that is in charge of multiple dimensions, one of which contains the King in Yellow. The whole story revolves around the King in Yellow trying to spread his influence through psychics so that when the time is right, he can challenge the Emperor and take his place. I like the idea of a wider cosmology, as it brings more story options to the table. My only fear would be that the KiY would get lost in it all and become just a bit player instead of the main force of the mythology.

Overall, I thought the various authors did a great job of either taking a tiny piece of the original stories and spinning a wider web from them or simply extrapolating from the original and running wild with a logical conclusion from that extrapolation.

★★★☆☆


Table of Contents:

The Curse of the King 

Richard L Tierney

The Dream-Leech 

Willliam Laughlin

Ambrose 

John Scott Tynes

In Memoriam 

Roger Johnson and Robert M. Price

Cordelia’s Song From The King In Yellow 

Vincent Starret

Chartreuse 

Michael Minnis

Cat With The Hand Of A Child

Mark McLaughlin

Lilloth

Susan McAdam

Reflections in Carcosa

Mark Francis

Broadalbin

John Scott Tynes

The Adventure Of The Yellow Sign

G. Warlock Vance

Tattered Souls

Ann K Schwader

What Sad Drum

Steve Lines

The Machine In Yellow

Carlos Orsi Martinho

The Peace That Will Not Come

Peter A. Worthy

Yellow Is The Color Of Tomorrow

Ron Shiflet

The Purple Emperor

Will Murray

A Line Of Questions

Joseph S. Pulver, Sr.

Saturday, April 15, 2023

An Ode to Energy Drinks

Nebuchadnezzar had his golden statue. I have my tower of power in the form of a Rockstar Coconut Pineapple Energy Drink. Thus, as it is written in the Book of Bookstooge, chapter 3:
To you it is commanded, O people, nations, and languages,
That at what time ye hear the sound of the cornet, flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, dulcimer, and all kinds of musick, ye fall down and worship the aluminum image.

In honor of this momentous occasion, I have caused to be composed an Ode, worthy of a rockstar.

Caffeine as Nature IntendedEnergy drinks, oh how I adore theeWith every sip, I feel so energeticYour caffeine content is just what I needTo get through the day, it's so therapeuticRockstar Coconut Pineapple, my favorite flavorIt's like a tropical paradise in a canThe blend of coconut and pineapple, such a saviorIt's a match made in heaven, what a grand planSome say caffeine is bad, but I beg to differIt's a natural stimulant, just like sugarAnd when mixed with other ingredients, it's a liferIt gives me energy, it's real, not just a figureSo here's to energy drinks, my source of powerCaffeine as nature intended, let's raise a glassTo Rockstar Coconut Pineapple, my sweet flowerThank you for keeping me going, for that I commend and even bask.

The above ode was composed by my faithful servant, the AI Paragraph block. It is truly a good servant and I feed it cookies on the weekend.

Wednesday, August 24, 2022

A Season in Carcosa (The King in Yellow Anthology #4) ★★★★✬

This review is written with a GPL 4.0 license and the rights contained therein shall supersede all TOS by any and all websites in regards to copying and sharing without proper authorization and permissions. Crossposted at WordPress & Blogspot by Bookstooge’s Exalted Permission

Title: A Season in Carcosa
Series: The King in Yellow Anthology #4
Editor: Joseph Pulver
Rating: 4.5 of 5 Stars
Genre: Cosmic Horror
Pages: 268
Words: 100K



Synopsis:

Table of Contents

This Yellow Madness (introduction) by Joseph S. Pulver, Sr.

My Voice is Dead by Joel Lane

Beyond The Banks of the River Seine by Simon Strantzas

Movie Night at Phil’s by Don Webb

MS Found in a Chicago Hotel Room by Daniel Mills

it sees me when I’m not looking by Gary McMahon

Finale, Act Two by Ann K. Schwader

Yellow Bird Strings by Cate Gardner

The Theatre & Its Double by Edward Morris

The Hymn of the Hyades by Richard Gavin

Slick Black Bones and Soft Black Stars by Gemma Files

Not Enough Hope by Joseph S. Pulver, Sr

Whose Hearts are Pure Gold by Kristin Prevallet

April Dawn by Richard A. Lupoff

King Wolf by Anna Tambour

The White-Face At Dawn by Michael Kelly

Wishing Well by Cody Goodfellow

Sweetums by John Langan

The King Is Yellow by Pearce Hansen

D T by Laird Barron

Salvation In Yellow by Robin Spriggs

The Beat Hotel by Allyson Bird

My Thoughts:

My goodness, these anthologies are going up and down for me like a teetertotter! When they are good, they are REALLY GOOD and when it’s bad, it’s so bad I can’t finish them. Thankfully, this was on the upper part of the seesaw.

I went into this a bit worried since Pulver was the editor and I absolutely hated the previous book which was edited and written by him. Thankfully, he only contributed a small part of this. I did realize that I don’t like his writing, period though. There were 1 or 2 poems, which did nothing for me. But Pulver’s story was the only real let down. Not surprising but it’s what kept this from a full 5star.

But most of the other stories were flipping fantastic if you dig cosmic horror. From slides into madness and horror to the unveiling of horrific powers, these ran the gamut from shiver your backbone to a chill of deliciousness running down your spine to the completely inexplicably weird.

I really can’t say that any of these were “better” than the others, but the 2 I do remember are Yellow Bird Strings and Wishing Well. YBS was about a former puppeteer who by the end of the story has become the puppet himself. It was hard to tell if he was going mad or if it was all real. Exactly the right tone for a King in Yellow Story. WW on the other hand, had real IT (by Stephen King) vibes with 2 storylines about kids and them now as adults. A twisted tv show created by a cult of the KIY was the focus and the ending where the main character who appears to be a loser the whole time is revealed to be the son of the King in Yellow, or something like that. It was deliciously spine tingling.

Another absolute winner of a read and I’m pretty happy. These books are definitely not for everyone, in fact I’d say that the majority of readers wouldn’t go for The King in Yellow, but they fit me like a glove, so I’m going to revel in them while I can.

Rating: 4.5 out of 5.