[poetry]: In the Deep
by Midnight on Dec.17, 2011, under Poetry, Poetry/Fiction Workshop, Pointy Leaves Literary Salon
I have been anaesthetised by the deep,
like you, and here under a starless sky
I’ve found a home: a place absent of light
where I can sleep. No doves rest on
the crest of solemn gates I seek to greet
with unquiet praise – instead the wretched
souless wraiths have gathered round
with hauter flavor: a fitting station
for those in limbo of His grace.
Cold as winter’s breath are the hearts
of those behind these gates and their shivers
are enough to shake both worlds which men
consider to be night or day. But the words
He whispers still echo in this hallowed land—
so much, it’s strange, the lending of a foreign hand.
(c) Joshua Biddle 2011
[review]: Breaking Bad and shifting cultural archetypes
by TAB on Nov.22, 2011, under Postal Modern Theatrette, television
[this review reflects the status of the show at the end of Season 4]
cast/characters, from wiki:
Bryan Cranston as Walter White
Anna Gunn as Skyler White
Aaron Paul as Jesse Pinkman
Dean Norris as Hank Schrader
Betsy Brandt as Marie Schrader
RJ Mitte as Walter White, Jr.
Bob Odenkirk as Saul Goodman
Giancarlo Esposito as Gustavo “Gus” Fring
Jonathan Banks as Mike Ehrmantraut
–
Breaking Bad (BrBa) re/presents classic wild west themes in a contemporary context. The main characters, Walter White- and to a lesser extent his partner Jesse Pinkman- are ‘driven by desperation to become outlaws’ (a trope, variation of ‘the outlaws are the heroes’ general/meta western trope, especially in combination with the ‘intense calamity befalls a family’ trope). (continue reading…)
[mythologems]: Look Out, There’s a Canine/Lupine On The Road!
by Ninthesis on Nov.21, 2011, under Mythologems & Contexts, Postal Modern Theatrette, television
Okay, okay. Spoilers, I get it. Everything else is under the “more” tag if you haven’t watched till the end of Lost, the first episode of Eureka, or until the fourth episode of Once Upon A Time.
[poetry]: two poems on cosmic perspective
by TAB on Nov.10, 2011, under Poetry, Pointy Leaves Literary Salon
the canon
(c) 2011 TAB
standing on the shoulders of giants
peering out at the dim foggy mountains
where these historical titans sleep
we humans compelled to scramble
as they turn over disturbed in dream
thousands ground to blood beneath yawns
eons passing without a wakefulness
–
against the prayers of ethnocentric hermetics
(c) 2011 TAB
why would you speak to a celestial?
they’re busy
dealing with the problems of people without time on their hands
to call
[poetry]: Early Morning Reflections
by Midnight on May.18, 2011, under Poetry, Poetry/Fiction Workshop, Pointy Leaves Literary Salon
I long to brush away
sun sutured red hair,
to trace dots
on unsheathed shoulders,
to kiss a bare blade,
and hear a soft sigh
or breathless intake of air.
As morning comes I would awake
still dreaming, a carnival
blurr like early morning
reflections across the lake;
I crave to finger beneath,
to move aside a tangled mess
and reveal eyes that stare back,
unimpeded and full of sleep.
I yearn to move closer, my palm
cradling cheek, nose to nose,
to breathe in breath
and finally feel the heat—
to rest in the moment of a dream.
by (c) Joshua Biddle
[poetry]: The Secret of a Feather
by Midnight on May.18, 2011, under Poetry, Poetry/Fiction Workshop, Pointy Leaves Literary Salon
They will tell you
the best way to see through
darkness is to keep moving.
One step at a time.
Defeat the beast—for eyes
to focus through strobe black
up the spine of an elated
concience, shun shadow
and pluck the feather
of a crow which seeks forgivness.
But residue resides, an offering
able to burn white with light,
hotter and brighter
than eyes can withstand.
And there will be a choice,
sound of caws from altar rafters,
demanding confession,
or redemption—
a spiral that will never be
forgiven nor whispired—seven crows
a secret that never will be told.
by (c) Joshua Biddle
[poetry]: This Foggy Night
by Midnight on May.18, 2011, under Poetry, Poetry/Fiction Workshop, Pointy Leaves Literary Salon
What am I looking for in a foggy night,
like tonight, where the lights are dimmed
from the distance and the denseness in between?
This place, conjured from otherworldly occasions
where events are exhaled into existence and forgotten
like the slow inhale of a breath being absorbed
into the body; though I am out of body,
standing in the place between the swaying shadows
of a swinging lamp, attempting to connect the dots
from where my body stands to where the light
is its brightest. Yet there are many sources,
like the street lamp, to the passing headlights
and tilted reflectors standing guard,
to the dull shade of puddles standing
beneath my feet. And I am remiss in forcing
one direction for losing sight
of all the denseness of this foggy night.
by (c) Joshua Biddle
[poetry]: pentad
by TAB on Apr.08, 2011, under Napkin Poetry, Poetry, Pointy Leaves Literary Salon
pentad
(c) TAB 2011
pointless pondering
periodic pontification
ponderous plodding
potentiality pitches
pointless pondering
[poetry]: Transitions
by Winged Insect on Feb.09, 2011, under Boxing Shadows Street, Poetry, Pointy Leaves Literary Salon
(c) B. Martin
No longer quite who you want me to be
but not quite myself—not yet.
Before many hours are up, I’ll be free
and you will have lost—too bad.
Picking away at the cords that have tied
my ego and id—so tight.
Rejecting the forces that so long have tried
to make me another—not me.
Looking ahead to the things that will come
and make me again—so new.
Refusing to glance at the places I’m from
and knowing they’ll fade—all gone.
No longer quite who you want me to be
though not quite myself—but close.
Rearranging myself so I look more like me
and much less like you—good riddance.
[short fiction]: Now What?
by TAB on Jan.02, 2011, under Poetry/Fiction Workshop, Pointy Leaves Literary Salon, The Alchemist's Observatorium
Now What?
(v2 – now with capitalization)
(c) TAB 2011
We picked up Albert at age 24 from Switzerland and said “look man, they’re going to turn your dreams into bombs”. We snagged Tesla and then went way out there and got ahold of Archemedes. We brought them back to the base, 1830 in Nevada. We had a huge daoist monastery built out there; machines and tools and water from a secondary and older base in Hawai’i where the king was very happy that we had brought the secrets of steel toolmaking and now the europeans couldn’t boss them around with cheap trade goods. That base was a huge pirate haven by fifty local years later, operating ships all through the North Pacific. Maybe it’s time to back up.
In the summer of 2045 my friends and I decided that engineering was boring without any truly cool projects to work on. Jamal said he could figure out the physics of time travel if he had a couple years to mess with equipment. We wrote an innocuous grant proposal to develop some solutions to a minor problem and got some gear for him. None of us had real jobs except Lu at the library and Mike’s part-time job at the liquor store. It took us three years of eating dumpstered donuts to build a working time machine. By that time, we had some extensive plans.
Obviously a time machine has to let you travel through space too. By adjusting the destination time so that the Earth’s spin would deposit us in another spot on the surface we could go to a lot of places. Not anywhere, but a lot. It had to line up to where we’d be within a few meters of the ground or we’d be flying through some random airstream. We built the machine into a weak helicopter just in case. But this is probably boring without explaining how the time travel part works.
Basically imagine time as being a gelatinous sphere. You can go anywhere and do things and new time branches will just appear. There’s never any erasing timelines from creating logical paradoxes, just making new ones because the original split into identical branches, except the paradox parts. Each outcome gets its own branch, so if you kill your grandfather there’s just a new line without that part of the family in it. In one timeline, you are the proud owner of a dead cat that smells like chlorine. In the other, the cat is just waiting to jump up and scratch your face off as soon as you open that box back up. You can get back to the same old unedited time whenever- if that were worth doing in its case- or just go to new timelines extrapolated from the changes made each time. Or like us you can decide to become time gardeners, go back again and again to one new branch and make it awesome.
-
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Mythic Folk has existed as a community based on the mythopoetica.com domain since 2002, surviving a spontaneous migration across various social networking apparatuses and irc manifestations since that time. This group-blog and forum continues with the original ethos of the Treeboards to explore new mythic (r)evolutions in books/literature, cinema, television, anime/manga and art. We're always eager to hear new viewpoints and discussion on various blog posts are welcome! You may find out more about us here or you may consult the guidelines if you'd like to apply to be a member of this group-blog.
