Persephone Thesis: EssayPersephone Thesis: Essay ComponentPersephone Thesis: Essay5 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
Elegon FairytaleThe water was lonely. It ran from river to river, ocean to ocean, alone. Many of the creatures that lived in the water paid it no mind, continuing on with their own life, unaware of the water's. The water decided one day to make itself some companions, someone to flow and keep company with. The water watched many humans at its rivers and oceans and created, what the water called, Ulas based off of the females. Some were made of water while others were made of scales and flesh. The Ulas made the rain and took care of the sea and river life during the day, while they played all night.Elegon Fairytale2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
One night, the air passed by the river and saw the Ulas playing and dancing along the water. The air suddenly felt lonely, just as the water had. It blew through the lands all alone and decided that it could use companions as well. The wind called them Auras. The air, like the water, designed them as female humans made of air and flowing dresses. The Auras traveled with the wind and their domain was the sky
Mind VomitI pixelate IcarusMind Vomit6 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...?
White Ballet ShoesEveryone watchWhite Ballet Shoes2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She dances in the meadows
Sweet, white ballet shoes
Tides of Earth and SkyTides of Earth and Sky2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And the ache of soul carried the torch of dreams into the sky
Upon scent of mortal thirst destiny whispered in myriad
rapture of folding tides..
Lo the mythic shore, where I — a phantasm of love bleeds
into the ether of velvet sky & ocean hymn...
Lost in the wine of omni-dreaming, for our passion tis but
the humble audience of eternity
In jeweled horizons the Goddess feasts; her gaze I cannot flee
I have crossed oceans of time & drank the song of worlds
My spirit forever slain in the beauty of her immortal sea
— Arthur Crow © 2012
The Sore Of A Deaf PoemAnother crumpled sheet thrown on the floor,The Sore Of A Deaf Poem2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Another shout, a thud, because she can't get rid of the sore,
The deaf poem of her broken heart is maybe too degraded,
She's not able to write it down, her soul is jaded,
The phrases of her life are burning on the inside,
A description about the moment when her dreams died,
It's smashing her heart and her tired mind.
From nowhere she hears a sardonic voice,
"- You're not able to hear the words anymore, in fact you never really did,
You have shed some scraps on pages, lies your soul to feed with",
She covered her ears, closed her eyes,
To stop hearing the demonic voice she tries,
"- Shut up!" she yelled again like every day,
It's impossible to escape this abomination that came in her way.
Maybe this is an already lost fight,
A decommissioned road to the healing light,
Her pathetic flounder makes no sense,
She's laying on the floor holding a broken pen.
Torn by the fall from grace,
She will leave behind just a bloody trace,
Beautiful ContradictionOne of my favorite places to beBeautiful Contradiction2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Is also my worst fear
All the life I see
Is shadowed by the death here
The waves call me
Begging me forward
Into the sea
Only to drag me downward
What a beautiful contradiction
It's hard to tell the difference
Between death and life
Day and night
Sinking to the bottom
It was you, not them
Beauty turns to scars
Can't erase these marks
Save me from what I've done
Save me from the monster I've become
Swallowed by the ocean
I'm calm, I'm calm
My heart is broken
This is how I move on
It's better this way
I'm out of the picture
No longer causing you pain
Thinking of you now
A tear rises to the surface
What is Democratic Socialism?What is Democratic Socialism?2 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
Democratic socialists believe that both the economy and society should be run democraticallyto meet public needs, not to make profits for a few. To achieve a more just society, many structures of our government and economy must be radically transformed through greater economic and social democracy so that ordinary Americans can participate in the many decisions that affect our lives. Democracy and socialism go hand in hand. All over the world, wherever the idea of democracy has taken root, the vision of socialism has taken root as welleverywhere but in the United States. Because of this, many false ideas about socialism have developed in the US. With this pamphlet, we hope to answer some of your questions about socialism.
Doesn't socialism mean that the government will own and run everything?
Democratic socialists do not want to create an all-powerful government bureaucracy. But we do not want big corporate bureaucracies to control
now here's to you, tomorrowDear you,now here's to you, tomorrow5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
this is just to say that you are beautiful;
that the earth you stand upon is as old as time
and you are not, for you are simply a moment
a star shining sand speckled pillar of brilliance
for which we make up stories to tell our children.
I, too, began the journey of scholarhood ripe with
perhaps too many
good intentions, a loaded spark rather than a
breathing ember, looking up & out for the scorching
radiance that lay just below the skin;
This is not to say that yours will bear any likeness to
mine or that you are governed by any relevant principles,
only that we share more than you might think
—the present is a gift to us from the invariable past,
from us to the inevitable future,
to be held without expectation except to live vicariously
through the blissful momentum of experienc
CapitalizeI want to play your vocal cordsCapitalize1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
like violin strings
until you repeat
all of the promises you've made
in the blue smog
of my dreaming heart
because every time we kiss
is dripping words
into your warm mouth,
but you never taste them.
Just read the script of my body
and don't skip a line
I don't know how much longer
I can keep
the frayed pages of my lips
from peeling back;
I've drawn a blank once again.
I'm scrawling poetry
on your hips every night,
you can't seem to interpret
and I know I'm losing you
between the lines,
between the sheets,
in those expanding white spaces
between smeared letters
of our love affair in lowercase.
Paradoxes in her bonesand she always dismisses herselfParadoxes in her bones7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and leaves her pupils dilated
lighthouses and forget-me-nots tangled in her chest
but her thoughts shiver more than her dreams.
he calls her beautiful
as she longs to stick his eyes out with stones
and grasp his aching heart between her hands
but they both know he's already broken.
how can they stop when they've never started
she wishes she could send them reeling
with stalwart syllables and poignant sighs
even though she's never made a sound.
the storms outside are bitter
no sweet rain after dusk to wet her lips
the winds inside her are quiet, and seething
with all the words she's never said
and all the promises she's ever broken.
.she became a seabed no.9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
anchor could grip, with a
habit of turning everything
into a shipwreck
.when her love left, it left.7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the house empty
and she says
i hope one day it'll
come back to me,
cos i don't keep this shotgun
on my front porch for nothin'
Here We Go AgainShh, do you hear that,Here We Go Again2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The voice in the back of my head?
You, do you see it,
The shadows at the foot of my bed?
Maybe I'm just different,
In a way that no one can see.
You just don't understand,
What it's like being me.
ShellsShellsShells7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Shells of hideousness conceal shattered beauty.
Across the RoomAcross the room, it's you I see.Across the Room9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
You look elsewhere and don't see me.
For the first time I lay eyes on you.
Your beauty is something new.
I watch you for a little while.
My lips can't help but form a smile.
So perfect your long hair.
Your skin is oh so fair.
Your body is rounded just right.
Your smile makes the room alight.
You get excited and voice raises pitch.
Sounds like a song with melody rich.
Then embarrassed you start to blush.
I wish I could console with my touch.
Wondering if I should come near.
Rejection I really do fear.
I don't even know what I would say,
And chances are that you're not gay.
I watch until you walk away.
Maybe we'll meet some other day.
enduring biopoiesis getting over itenduring biopoiesis9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
in quick gasps of rabbit fur
and valley tangles
we would have
had such darling
strung out on fake roses
floating on our sun-striped backs
but we're so
some world-children cutting
out, tuning in yet
The Missing SoundI can’t bear to read themThe Missing Sound3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
any longer; accounts and dialogs,
the manifests of spindly travels,
referendums and shopping lists
scrawled on braided brown sack paper:
that flake from old sea crust.
Another mantelpiece, perhaps.
No one knows the reasons you horde them
in piles of cadavers like a miniature apocalypse.
on a gasp of memory.
A counterweight to your long gone lover,
painted and re-purposed, staring out from hallway sheet-rock,
desk drawer compartments, and garbage bin bottoms.
from a river bed
for the many windows to her soul.
Arrange them like a sundial, in arcane, hermetic patterns,
like runes without an acolyte, or throw them at her spectres.
.i feel change, the way.8 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
the birdsong changes when the
cat goes out for lunch
autumnthe world isautumn8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
turning over a
and i with it
Maps Not Meant For FollowingI bet you missed me when I went away. "You’ll come back," you thought. When I didn’t you bit your lip, but was sure I would make it with time. After the next day, and the day after that, the doubts started to creep in. You caught yourself sucking in a painful breath whenever you saw something of mine lying around. Bits of my life left with you would slither into your sight when you least expected it the same way the memories would swamp you if given the slightest chance.Maps Not Meant For Following4 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
When days turned into a week, you entered into a hush drunk state: eyes bleary and sore from holding back any semblance of emotion. You were quiet, but not calm. Your hands became tumultuous storms when you'd glance over at our picture, fingers becoming tidal waves as you would toss it onto the bed. You were tired, but not nearly tired enough to forget.
On its own, you would find your body shaking at the brush of your own fingers across your skin, a reminder of where I touched you last. And then you c