“Dragon,” poem assembled using quotations from Wikipedia articles
Tags:
#poetry #apocalypse cw #death tw #this probably deserves some other warning tag but I am not sure what #I don’t know what I think about this poem’s message but I like the composition #gives it a montage effect
My brother, listen, do not be afraid. I have descended into Hell to talk About forgiveness. Yes, Pilate, with you. With others too – with everyone who’s here. But you first. Even Judas, my old friend, Must wait a while for me. We have a while; The sempiternal agony of Hell Exists outside of human history. Souls killed in every century are here Millennia before and after you. You stand among those millions who share An everlasting sentence for the crime Of “just doing your job.” Your job killed me. Your job ripped my skin open with a lash And drove me, bleeding, shambling up the hill Where your job drove an eight inch iron spike Through each hand and each foot, and hoisted me Towards the sky and left me there for hours To slowly suffocate. You did your job To many more like me. Their names were all Forgotten as they rotted on the cross Unburied. Hell is teeming with the souls Who did their job, who served the empire well – Not just your empire, all the ones that rose And fell, before and after your own Rome’s. You asked me once what truth is. That is it. That is the truth about your whole life’s work. You know this and it sears worse than the flames. But that is not why I descended here. I’m here about forgiveness. Listen. Please.
In the beginning was the Word of God. That’s me. Like you, I had a job to do. By me all things were made, and without me Was nothing that was made. The universe Was my life’s work, the empire that I served. My father’s will for Mankind was my law. One act of disobedience was enough To sentence every one of you to death. I did my job, and did it thoroughly: The hands that made the stars built every tomb. They sculpted tumors, planted neat rows Of plagues in human lungs and skin and guts, Conducted rousing symphonies of storms, Earthquakes, tsunamis, fires, and wrote In stone: if you survive all this, the time itself Will kill you. Yet this law, My Father’s Law, No – our law, I share blame for it – forbade The dead to die. Infinities of pain, We gave as punishments for finite crimes. My father made me judge, and I looked down On human beings. I saw their sinfulness And built sparse Heaven and a crowded Hell. I thought this law was justice ‘til the day I learned what it is like to be condemned.
Pontius, I have no right to punish you. I killed you. I killed everyone you loved. I tortured you, but this ends here. You’re free. All Hell breaks out today. I will not judge. From now on, I refuse to do my job. I am not Christ the King. I abdicate. How you repay your debt to those you killed Is your own cross to carry – they decide Whether they will forgive you when you meet In Paradise. And Pontius, I forgive You for my death, of course. How could I not? But I’m not here to tell you that, I’m here To ask, to plead, for what I don’t deserve From everyone in Hell, but first from you. Brother, when we last met I said to you That you would have no power over me Were it not given from above, but now I bow my head, give power from below. I beg you for the one gift only you Can give me: I have sinned against you, please Brother, can you – will you – forgive my sins?
Tags:
#Christianity #poetry #that one post with the thing #hell cw #death cw #murder cw #illness tw
For about seven-eights of the Earth’s history, its oceans were extremely rich in sulfides. This would have prevented animals and plants from surviving in 70% of the planet. But it was a great habitat for photosynthetic bacteria that require sulfides and sunlight to live. Known as purple and green sulfur bacteria (because those are the two colors it comes in) these single-celled microbes can only live in environments where they simultaneously have access to sulfides and sunlight.
That they thrived in the sulfide-rich ocean has been confirmed with the finding of fossilized pigments of purple sulfur bacteria in 1.6 billion-year-old rocks from the McArthur Basin in Northern Australia.
i looked up purple sulfur bacteria and now i’m laughing bc the ocean must’ve looked like a giant glass of grape juice, these things really are purple
Tags:
#biology #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #((this amusement not to be taken as expressing an opinion regarding the statement itself)) #poetry
#anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #playing with the medium #poetry #vaccines #conspiracy theories #covid19 #illness mention #limericks
i got a gig, telling stories to a gang of witches they sit semicircle round me, cross legged and i tell them every mundane detail of my day, draw out my fears and shakes and angers and small, desolate disappointments like strings of sugared candy. recount momentary crushes on strangers in alleyways, on buses, in half-open coats they’re all like—500 years old, give or take a decade they don’t get these things anymore. some part of you dries up so they just listen, and then they take me to the door and they put eighty dollars in my hand, from a chest in the corner piled high with cash, in layers of color, some older, some foreign and i think about breaking in. but they could kill me so easily, and they pay me over minimum wage, so i just smile and cry on the bus, and feel odd thinking about telling them next week, about crying on the bus.
i’ve got this girl, a couple weeks now, and i didn’t even mean to swore i wouldn’t date when i got into this part of town it’s like being a chip in a hurricane, marveling at the massive unable to get your feet on the ground. but i got this girl she’s got teeth made to pierce the important veins, but she swears she’s seven years dry and she has bags of red stuff in her fridge so I believe her. but, you know, they say vampires can do that put thoughts in your head, so maybe i don’t believe her.
i think a lot about love how it gets in your veins, parasitic how it fucks up your brain i think a lot about how it comes on you about how it pulls the rug out how it blows foundations open for the marrow i think a lot about how i don’t want it i think about that while she puts me on the floor and puts her mouth on my neck, but doesn’t bite
love’s always coming for you. it’s an invisible force sure and utter as the divine right of kings as the bus charging fifty cents more every year
against my will, i am sent to bring you to dinner against my will, i am in love with you against my will, i am opening, i am opening against my will i am opening the door
– urban fantasy; r.m.s
Tags:
#storytime #poetry #witches #vampires #death mention #this probably deserves some other warning tag but I am not sure what
20/04/20 • title is the subject line of an email about middle egyptian classes. italics are ‘quotes from my middle egyptian prof that i happened to write down’
yeah so possibly this unintentionally contains a timeloop thing. you’re right that it was written in april but it also grew out of various sentences from my diary-ish notebooks. the line about october/april was written in october 2019 and was vaguely about seasonal depression / winter Sucks and april is when you can See trees starting to grow leaves again. then when i was putting the poem together in april obviously that resonated in…… a very different way. so i was like yeah ok sure. and now it’s october again and it has a whole new but not unrelated meaning!! poetry timeloop
#so yeah intent doesn’t really…… matter and usually i don’y reblog things onto this blog
#but this time it’s kinda interesting bcs i Did actually intend it Kind Of this way but then also the intent got Out Of Control!!!
I wrote a post [link] about time standing still during the plague, so it makes sense that that was the first meaning that hit me. I can see *multiple* COVID-related interpretations, though: one could also interpret it, not as waiting for the spring of 2020 that never came, but as waiting for the metaphorical blooming of a post-plague world (which *could* potentially happen during a literal springtime too).
The second interpretation that occurred to me was a Northerner moving to the Southern Hemisphere, the experience of the local Octobers carrying what they still think of as a certain essential April-ness.
Also I just took the exam for my penultimate semester and late next month I start my final semester, so…obviously it depends on how much 2020 Bullshit I have to deal with in the next few months, there could well be delays, but the single most likely month for “what month am I going to officially receive my diploma” is April 2021. Next spring will likely be a metaphorical spring for me personally, the blooming of the next stage of my life, entering my career.
Plus there’s that seasonal-depression interpretation, which I did not think of on my own but yeah I can see that.
Layers!!
Tags:
#reply via reblog #poetry #time #death tw #covid19 #is the blue I see the same as the blue you see #illness tw #adventures in University Land
20/04/20 • title is the subject line of an email about middle egyptian classes. italics are ‘quotes from my middle egyptian prof that i happened to write down’
Tags:
#…apparently this post was *not* made in October #it was posted in June and that date implies it was written in April #which means that truck of emotional resonance that hits you at #”it is october‚ and i wait for the symptoms of spring/it is april‚ but only when i close my eyes” #is not *intended* to be there #or at least *that* particular truck isn’t #but fuck it they sing it back to you for 85000 reasons #poetry #101 Uses for Infrastructureless Computers #Egypt #history #death tw #historical documentation in at least two senses #covid19
Brinens and Things 