Arotrios
Arotrios avatar

Arotrios

@Arotrios@kbin.social

For Amusement Purposes Only.

Changeling poet, musician and writer, born on the 13th floor. Left of counter-clockwise and right of the white rabbit, all twilight and sunrises, forever the inside outsider.

Seeks out and follows creative and brilliant minds. And crows. Occasional shadow librarian.

+

Two right-wing judges seem to be trying to rig a US House race (www.vox.com)

Two of the most partisan judges in the country handed down an order last week that is hard to explain as anything other than an attempt to preserve Republican control of the US House of Representatives. The voting rights plaintiffs in this case, known as In re: Jeff Landry, already filed an emergency application in the Supreme...

Robots, UFOs, and A.I. Converge at the Brooklyn SciFi Film Festival for 2023 with 130 Films Online and in Theaters (www.benzinga.com)

SciFi and independent film fans celebrate the return of the Brooklyn SciFi Film Festival, Oct. 9 - 15, with 130+ films from 26 countries, online or in person. Brooklyn, NY October 03, 2023 --(PR.com)-- The Brooklyn

Aphelion, to poetry
@Aphelion@mastodon.sdf.org avatar

There were
The open arms
Of earth
Beckoning me,
Lichen and Ivy
Soil and stone
Water coursing
In rivulets and
Runnels,
And I, offering
Blood and bone,
Could scarcely
Fill my lungs
Under the
Watchful gaze
Of mountain,
Boughs of trees
With their
Listless keening
Against the wind

#Poetry

momo, to random
@momo@kpop.social avatar

what if we kissed in the haunted liminal arctic town i just dreamed about where everyone leaves during winter so it's completely dark and empty for 6 months so the town is left to the bioluminescent ghost deer, and also it's facing the effects of rapid climate change so it floods and also mysterious blocks of rosin have been washing in, along with a recently unfrozen high school friend of mine, but it's ok that it floods because the ghost deer are light enough to skip around on the water surface

MikeDunnAuthor, to 13thFloor
@MikeDunnAuthor@kolektiva.social avatar

Today in Labor History October 2, 1937: Dominican dictator Rafael Trujillo ordered the execution of Haitians living in the border region of the Dominican Republic, resulting in the genocidal Parsley massacre of up to 35,000 Haitians. Trujillo was obsessed with race. He’d use pancake make-up to lighten his skin color and hide his Haitian roots. And even so, the wealthy Dominicans still snubbed him for his working-class family origins. One week prior to the massacre, he publicly accepted a gift of Hitler’s Mein Kampf, whose racial theories he clearly embraced. He used racism to distract Dominicans from their poverty, which had been exacerbated by the Great Depression, and by Trujillo’s corrupt rule.

Edwidge Danticat’s historical fiction, “The Farming of Bones,” takes place during the time of the massacre.

@bookstadon

Kbin completely defederated? Kbin subscriptions have disappeared, and I can't access Kbin magazines

Per the title, woke up this morning and found my kbin.social magazine subscriptions gone from my Lemmy account. I searched magazine names to resubscribe with no luck. Has Kbin been fully defederated from Lemmy.world? Note that these were smaller magazines not caught up in the spam issues from the other week, and had been working...

henkheijmans, to random
@henkheijmans@mastodon.nl avatar

The dancer Ossi Rhondje, 1929 - Photoatelier Feldscharek

dwarf, to random
@dwarf@borg.social avatar

It's a good day

zim2918, to random
@zim2918@mastodon.social avatar
Arotrios, (edited ) to poetry
Arotrios avatar

A long time ago, in a Portland far far away, there was a ritual the wild poets used to practice at Roxy's after midnight beneath the neon Jesus. It was dubbed .

The rules are simple, and resemble a rap battle. The first poet writes a verse (or a couple, depending on where the muse takes them). Then the next poet continues the work while the first drinks and smokes - taking the theme of the last line as inspiration for their addition. The second poet continues writing until they're thirsty or stuck, and passes it back to the first poet. This continues until they either run out of inspiration, intoxicants, energy, or both agree that the poem is complete. Last verse wins.

If you have more than two poets, teams of three or more are permitted, but be aware that this is a volatile sport that often results in brawls of extremely dangerous lyricism the more poets are involved.

There are no restrictions on style - you can respond to a novel's worth of rhyming iambic pentameter with a haiku if it fits. Duels are more than permitted within the context of the poetry, and often produce some of the best results.

Now I'm aware that most on the Fediverse are suspicious of poetry, and rightfully so. You never know when a strange line of verse will make you laugh, or cry, or question your existence - so I'll be pleasantly surprised if I find any participants this evening.

That being said, there's a huge potential on the platforms here to have the most massive battle of history, and to add hyperlinks and music and videos and all sorts of whatever crazy bells and whistles you want. Plus, it's and the Guinness just doesn't taste right without a bit of spice, so I'm gonna take the risk of shitposting into the void and kick this one off. Free boosts and upvotes to those who dare to reply in kind...

Round one
Staring at the sun
because
The song of a holy pug
Slipped inside the house
Setting eggs of inspiration a flower
A bower of Bedouins
surfing a timewave
as it crashed down into now
And how does the muse find you today?
Grumpy or frumpy or on the A train?
Are you in India? Egypt? Saskatchewan? France?
Do you wear lipstick? A mustache? Blue underpants?
Who the hell is out there that's got a lyrical soul?
There's no wealth for a miser who hoards the Fool's gold
So you may as well spill it and tell the untold
I don't care if you're shady, I don't care if you're slim
I don't care if you stutter your green M&Ms
I dare you to open your mouth and let the world in
'cause the silence of a poet's heart is a mortal sin

"Besides, if you don't, I win!"
squawked the crow, with a most beaky grin...

@13thFloor @pugjesus

caribouslim,
@caribouslim@pagan.plus avatar

@Arotrios

It was Wednesday when you posted, you drunken old bat
And Roxy's serves coffee to the gutterpunk rats
There's holes in your story, and your memory sings flat
Think maybe its time to stop hitting the flask?

As for me, I come from the trees
Oaks and redwoods and blackberry leaves
My heart sprouting mushrooms and bumblebees
Casting sunflower seeds
to the titmice and the chickadees
Sculpting the mist of the ocean breeze
into impossible possibilities

With songs all wrong and upside down
For I was hiding from Hekate in a crossroad town
Till a fae cat cast their myrhh all around
Now she's telling me she's up to get down
And I'd be a Fool to ignore the sound
of magick unbound

So here you go
you drunken old crow
Let the lyrics flow
Like a leopard across the snow

Windspeaker, to 13thFloor
@Windspeaker@mstdn.ca avatar

Signals is an interactive exhibit showcasing creative technologies running as part of the Vancouver International Film Festival beginning Oct. 1.

A special feature of Signals is the Na wa shéw̓ay̓ta sp'en̓ém (the seed is growing) section, which includes about 20 short films produced in the world’s first-ever Indigenous video production training program from IM4 Lab Indigenous Virtual Production Films.

https://windspeaker.com/news/windspeaker-news/signals-exhibit-viff-shows-how-media-matriarchs-are-building-indigenized-tech

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