Persephone Thesis: EssayPersephone Thesis: Essay ComponentPersephone Thesis: Essay6 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
"Happy is he among men upon earth who has seen these mysteries!
It is generally accepted among historical scholars that the cult of Demeter and Persephone, or Kore, existed in Greece and the surrounding Mediterranean islands long before the traditional Olympian gods became entrenched. Her origins are Cretan . Like Aphrodite, the mother and daughter goddess represent a matriarchal form of fertility worship in the forms of crops and nature, and through this the cycle of birth, growth and death. This myth, however, has taken hold of imaginations from its evolutions into the Eleusinian mysteries of Ancient Greece, to the paintings of Victorian Europe, to today, each with their own distinctive takes and emphases on the story. Perhaps it is the fact that we know so little about the original tale of Persephone the daughter of Demeter, goddess of fertility, snatched
Mind VomitI pixelate IcarusMind Vomit7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to forfeit my counterproductivity.
Who needs rose tinted glasses
when you have
glazed eyes enamelled sighs
and sugarcoated insomnia.
I long for movie tomorrows
instead of these
xylophonic beclazone dreams.
I want to saturate the grey matter
without a hint of remorse.
I want to play the undersleeper,
pinning back my eyelids with
the idiolect of those I'd like to know better.
Do you want to hear my mind vomit or should I
just turn the page and start again...?
Darkness In My SoulThere is a darkness in my soulDarkness In My Soul3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
I've closed myself off from humanity
Indulging in nihilism and misanthropy
I loathe all the world and its inhabitants
The human spirit
A truly grotesque spectacle
Life has become unbearable
And this world, undesirable
The world never changes
Deceiving, cheating, lying
Selfish minds, corrupted kinds
Self - beneficially inclined
The twisted nature of mankind
My sanity has fallen to ruins
The toll of a sick worlds influence
This life has turned my heart black
And drained all goodness from me
I am a hollowed shell
Empty and brooding in solitude
I sit and wait for Death's knell
The devil talks to me
And ensares my mind
Filled with dark thoughts
He assures me it's my time
There is a darkness in my soul
It can't be quenched by anything
And when I close my eyes
My only wish is to die
This world holds nothing for me
I wish to transcend its boundaries
I never want to wake up
I lust for this life torn from me
And when I open my eyes
My only solace is to cry
I wait t
SleepSleepSleep7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Oh gods above, what had he done? The memories were fuzzy and vague, although there was no reason for them to be. Hed walked for hours, he remembered that part, though it had felt as though he had hovered above his own tired, charred body. Charred? A fire, he guessed, that hed somehow been caught up in. The sand was surprisingly cool beneath his cheek as he lay there, mind and body numb with confusion and the clench of guilt. Guilt, he realised now, sat where hed always thought love would, just below the ribs; a solid pressure pushing to meet his spine and go all the way through him. As depressing as it sounded, that was all he felt right now aside from the sand, and sand hardly felt solid. What was worse was that he couldnt for the life of him remember why.
Is he dead? Ryker felt something press against his ribs, a toe he guessed, but didnt move. He couldnt
I'd love to turn you onCuatro mil agujeros en las calles de Blackburn, Lancashire. Cuatro mil malditos hoyos. Y qué más da, si el único que me importa -oh, joder, ¿qué es esto? Nada de agujeros- lo tengo aquí.I'd love to turn you on4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
A besos, a estirones, trastablillamos hasta topar con el sillón que, a modo de saludo, chirría terriblemente.
Te desvisto mientras pienso que alguien debería acuchillar ese sillón; es pequeño, viejo, chilla mucho. Así no hay quien se concentre.
A la mierda el sillón, te tengo delante, semidesnuda, me volaría los sesos antes que dejarte así. Bang, en medio de la gente, todos mirando, como si formara parte de la Cámara de los Lores.
Ya no nos queda ropa. Ha pasado a formar una pequeña montaña en el suelo. Enredado, tan enredado como mis manos en tu pelo, como tu lengua en la mía.
Encendiste la radio. Un programa musical. Una canción que martillea nuestros oídos, que poco a poco se mete e
SebastianDr. Liem leaned back in his downy sofa and gave a smile. 'Well, David, how can I help you? What's the matter?'Sebastian5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The patient, whose eyes were roving around the room until that moment, looked at the doctor and faltered, 'Sebastian'.
'Sebastian? Who is he? Tell me about him.'
'He is my room-mate. I moved into new lodgings on Golden Road two weeks ago. The landlord hadn't mentioned about another man', Dave shrugged and gazed into the empty space again. 'I was quite surprised. But just that. In fact, I hadn't asked if somebody was already there, and it' s not so uncommon accident when you rent a house. Maybe he had come in later the same day, before I arrived. Anyway. Actually, Sebastian wasn't a bad man. We even took to each other. The only problem was that he had really weird habits and was never leaving the house. At first, I didn't consider it something... out of the ordinary. He was just a strange man, like many others. But then inexplicable things started happening.'
'What kind of thin
Rainy path from nowhereDeepest childhood rains on meRainy path from nowhere2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Ruins me to the edge of my end
rules my tears from the abysse
dwells in my dreams to an other life
See how sick I am
See my fears behind my eyes
This rain falls from the past
this pain is just too real
BicicletasEl día que las bicicletas se rebelen, tomarán las calles. Los frenazos de los coches sonarán en el pavimento, y usarán cadenas y candados para conseguir su propósito.Bicicletas4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Las bicicletas no quieren ser sólo para el verano. No quieren compartir espacio con las avispas, que campan a sus anchas aquí y allá. No van a negar que tienen algo de miedo. ¿Y si, enfurecidas, pican en las ruedas?
Pero las bicicletas están más que hartas.
¡Coches, coches! Siempre prefieren a los coches, esto parece una maldita película americana. A ellas las limpian con un trapo mugriento hombres sebosos de calva incipiente ¿dónde está la espuma? ¿Y las chicas guapas?
En su manifiesto, reclaman sus derechos. Las bicicletas quieren ser montadas todo el año, lavadas y engrasadas por rubias de curvas voluptuosas, que les rían los chistes; que las avispas no se atrevan a acercarse. Rugiendo por la carretera, como tigres con sill
Somebody, anybodySomebody, anybody!Somebody, anybody6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My homework sits and ferments
as I procrastinate in the name of the easily distracted.
I'm putting efforts into writing this poem
so why not put it into my photography, history or music?
This is how I roll,
rolling down a hill
gathering sticky bits of lethargy
off the mildly interesting ground
here we are
here we still are
you can check out any time you like but you can never leave!
Oh, and minesweeper
oh sweet minesweeper
how I love you so
love you and hate you,
just like a typical relationship in a pop-emo song~
So this is how I roll
This is my wall that stops me
This is how we fold
This is how millions of innocent minesweeper emoticon faces die.
I'm going to go learn Mr. Brightside on guitar now.
Another lovely distraction!
Incomplete...She held out her handIncomplete...7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in it was a coin
It was snatched, carefully
and hidden away
I stood beside her
watching the scene
as the boy shyed away
unsure what to think
She smiled, he winced
Thunder rolled above
She held out her hand
empty and clean
He took it and together we walked
Under the tall trees of light and concrete
The heavens opened
a raindrop fell
through the sky, into the forest
of lights and metal
It came to rest
in the boy's hand
and after a layer of years
he was a man in a suit
Briskly he walked
along the footpath
surrounded by the identical
under a foliage of umbrellas
He came to a stop under shelter
on a backalley porch
Knocked on a door
and straightened his tie
The door opened and he held out his hand
in it was rain and small coin
Turnabout FangirlsTurnabout FangirlsTurnabout Fangirls6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
If Phoenix felt awkward snooping around Edgeworths office while the prosecutor was there, glaring at them, Ema appeared oblivious. Among the plush, velvet sofa and opulent furnishings, the defence lawyer was feeling out of his depth as he fingered his way over a chess-set that likely cost more than hed made in the last two months. His shoes felt dirty on the lush, burgundy carpet and if he bent his knees a little, he could feel the thick flooring give a little, still springy despite constant use. Far better than anything he had, both at home and in the office. Perhaps the prosecutors office paid for their staffs rooms, and the higher one was in the ranks the more their comfort salary rose. After all, who could afford floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a desk in solid mahogany when you were paid pittance? Then again, maybe that was just h
The CutterThe CutterThe Cutter9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
At the end of the day
She cuts away her pain
And knows she's not insane
At heart it's not a game
Not all just in her head
She wishes to be dead
And feels the sore lines; red
Not sure of what she's said
Her tears, but one, are duds
She smears away the blood
And her wrists still flow; flood
Her body trapped in mud
He doesn't know how she feels
She thinks this pain's surreal
And make believes in such a thrill
He doesn't know how to deal
She loves him it's so true
He stares in eyes; blue
And they don't know what to do
She looks into eyes; you
SolsticeSolsticeSolstice5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Medici castle was on a scale that was rarely built on these days. Three hours ride out of Argonia at a gallop, it sat atop a cliff set just in from the sea, proudly overlooking the de'Medici's traditional holdings to Argonia's west. The land had been in the family for generations, and their line could be traced back even further than that. They were a force in politics, a well-worn family name that would come to Argonia's aid when asked and their constant grip on land so close to the city proved that.
However, it hardly made the place more welcoming in the winter. While heavy tapestries were hung up over the windows and fires were stoked at all hours of the day, there was a distinct chill to the air that crept through the walls itself. Torches lined the corridors, their shadows spooking the servant's children as their shirked their duties. The entire affair, outside of the noble's wing, felt much like a
Tribute to Masters of BlackMy dedication to the Masters of BlackTribute to Masters of Black4 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
As A Black Moon Broods Over Lemuria,
A nocturnal Mayhem brings forth Funeral Fog,
Come Feeble Screams from Forests Unknown,
A Blaze in the Northern Sky follows.
Beneath the Burial Surface,
Under A Funeral Moon,
Upon the Kingdom Throne
I behold The Majesty of the Night Sky
And witness The Coming Storm.
As I slumber in unholy darkness.
Behind The Darkened Walls Of Sleep
I see Hecate Enthroned on the Darkthrone,
I gaze the Behemoth of the Dark Funeral,
I see the Shattered Gods of Bal-Sagoth dying
Before the eve of Armageddon Holocaust,
As the Misanthropic Masters will arrive.
I Walk the Path of Sorrow,
When Cryptic Winterstorms roar,
And Hordes arrive from the Darkspace,
Riding Through the Gleams of Death,
Through the Arch of Thorns,
Crossing the Triangle of Flames,
As they Enter My Black Dreams,
Screaming "We came back with the Nightfall!"
Thus come the Black Hearts Domain,
Invoking Spellcraft and Moonfire,
Summoning the Masters of Black,
Rabanos? Cap.1 Encuentro EncuentroRabanos? Cap.1 Encuentro7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Las estrellas titilaban perezosamente sobre el firmamento, como velas que iluminan el camino de los viajeros. Pequeñas y numerosas, se extendían formando un manto que lo cubría todo. De tanto en tanto, se podía encontrar alguna estrella que brillaba por encima de las demás, algunas otras eran tan débiles que apenas se distinguían en la lejanía. La mayoría eran meros puntos de luz en el infinito, indistinguibles unas de otras, que formaban una hermosa constelación, pero que una a una no eran más que otro punto de luz. Por más que brillaran o pensaran que eran más hermosas que
Piel de gallinaSe le eriza el vello, se le encogen las pupilas, se le aprieta el nudo que tiene en la garganta, hasta que casi no puede tragar.Piel de gallina4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Palidez. Sudor frío.
El amante de la piel de gallina enmudece al mínimo contacto, se vuelve hielo. Frío, se entrega, se deja hacer.
Una vena en la sien. Un tic imperceptible. Ella no se da cuenta.
El amante de la piel de gallina tiene miedo. Al sexo. Probablemente, nunca lo reconocerá. Ella seguirá pensando que es piedra, escarcha, un iceberg. Él seguirá sintiéndose como un pollo expuesto en la isla de productos cárnicos de cualquier hipermercado.
Four over Five - KiribanFour over FiveFour over Five - Kiriban7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Whoevers idea it was to host a bar in the beached hull of a long-forgotten mariner should be labelled a genius. The black sea sloshed sleepily outside, blanketed by a sky loose-knit enough for the stars to peek through. Im romanticising it all; grungy high-rises pushed the beach back day by day, sand was doped up on forgotten syringes and Heaven lay like some beached whale against the moon.
Heaven. Stupid name for a bar, really. Id lost track of how many drunkards had shambled in hollering for entertainment, having mistaken the buzzing neon sign outside to be advertising a brothel. I felt the name a last resort, so out of place. The décor protested it. Countless shelves and crannies inside the bull boasted a maritime theme that was difficult to ignore. A brass teapot sat proudly in the porthole beside me, one of four Id counted through my visits, and bearded maps peeled free of th
Inhabiter: The Cosmic DivinityInhabiter: The Cosmic DivinityInhabiter: The Cosmic Divinity8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My ardent universe
So memorizing with your constellations
Your planetary beauty
auras of blue and chrome
Stars and astrals planes yet to be discovered
No desire to explore any further
Than what the naked eye sees.
My solar lust.
FishFishFish5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Oh, my lovely fish
It gives me great joy to see you swimming
When I go on holidays I miss you and hope you are well
At night it gives me happiness to feed you and watch you
Every day you swim with your friend Silvie
Sometimes at night I like to listen to the sound of your pump
No other fish of mine has lived so long so that must be a sign that you love me
Even if you die tomorrow I will always remember you
Mama?Mama?Mama?6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
It was going to be a bad winter. Marquis could feel it in his hands, theyd never quite recovered, and tell by the way the blood was struggling to pump through them as the days got darker and shorter. He wasnt old by a long-shot Thirty next year, still good! but he completely sympathised when the old stable hands began their groaning. Powder white snow turned grey as he sludged through it, soot from his boots leaving a trail behind him as he fought his way to the main hall. All around him horses were being saddled and loaded up and men in uniform milled restlessly, blowing into gloved hands to warm them up, and Marquis refused to look at any of them. They were all in on it. If they werent someone would have mentioned it to him already and hed just known something was up when guards had been avoiding him for the last week. His pack, only half completed, was being dragged behind him a
EvieEvieEvie7 years ago in Mystery & Suspense More Like This
Around you the log cabin is cosy. Its one of those picturesque little places in the mountains and, as always happens here in winter, its snowing hard. Youre sitting in front of a roaring fireplace with your back against the sofa (Though isnt it an odd through; a fireplace in a log cabin?). The rug beneath you is thick and your bare toes could grip at it were you inclined to try. A mug sits beside you on the floor, still steaming from the pot. The light is dim, your mates have crashed for the night and get real anal if you leave the lights on while theyre sleeping. Damned if you know why, the fussy bastards. At any rate, youre not tired. Youve brought a book and some writing to do in moments like this, and with little company other then the crackling hearth, now seems the opportune moment to get down some thoughts from earlier.
As your pen hits the paper, t
AnniversaryAnniversaryAnniversary5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Their meetings were always hurried, full of touches that were just a little too hard and kisses that involved too much tooth. Neither complained, there was no time for them to argue now. No time for prolonged, wordless struggles as to who was on top, no time to tease. It just happened.
It was only in the afterglow, the bittersweet sweat and laboured breaths, that they talked. Quiet murmurs accompanied by lips on skin, a squeeze of the hand on a hip.
"I haven't got long." Jaye would say, his once perfectly straightened and styled blond hair now a mess, stuck to the pillow with sweat.
His partner knew, and would only nod, close his one working eye, and press his lips somewhere else on Jaye's chest. "Did you get it on disc?"
The blond always did he knew how it worked and sat up to pull it from his jacket. He could feel the other man tightening the arm around his waist, as if re
CriptofiliaCriptofiliaCriptofilia5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
La noche guarda silencio sobre las tumbas... un ángel en cuyos labios enmudeció el canto divino es el guardián inmóvil de la sepultura que esconde mi secreto.
Monto mi unicornio fantasma y guiada por la luz de la pálida antorcha de la luna mortecina recorro el onírico sendero que limita con los caminos de la muerte. Llego al umbral ancestral vigilado por la esfinge, la mítica criatura no me formula enigmas pues aún no se responde ella misma como es posible que yo camine entre los vivos cuando mi corazón dejó de latir en el instante en el que mi amado cayó bajo el hechizo de Morpheus.
Traspongo el umbral que separa los dos mundos, no necesito de psicopompo pues conozco de memoria los caminos del Valle de la Muerte. Mi presencia no inquieta a los espectros que ya se han acostumbrado a ver mi vagarosa silueta nebulosa, que no es fantasma pero camina entre las sombras, deambulando por estas sendas... hasta los demonios me s