Strange Creatures
01/04/2004 02:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
izmeinaA quick Izzie squiggle. A new month and a new bright shiny and happy Izzie. Nice to have 20 mins or so for a squiggle before pottering off on the broomstick for some sushi munching. Been so so hungry for so so long.....
Three whole weeks of deprivation - of having neither time nor money and sometimes none of both. But since it's pay day and Iz was good and printed out those assignments yesterday - can spend today pottering a bit.
Will be a different story if the lecturer doesn't collect them yet again.
Well now is a chance to catch up on those odd snippets here and there that I'd been meaning to post.
This time a bit of poetry. Strange - there are three poems that constantly pop up at the most unexpected times and places in the ickle green Izzie skull. One is a strange combination of everyday banality and unsufferably beautiful haunting lines. The Big Cat knows which one that is.
The second is extremely spooky and creepy and just plain damned wierd. A most evil meme indeed. Not too many poems can give Izzie nightmares but this one did. It gets to the parts the other poems can't reach.
And the third - Iz was grumpy and peeved the other week. Had a big rant and whinge in LJ - The mind works in mysterious ways. Iz picked a title for this rant - "Things fall apart" and got to thinking that it's a long long time since reading the poem where it came from originally though most people know it as the title of a book from some time back in the 1990's.
Yesss...Back in the 1990's 1990 itself to be very precise - lines from two of these poems had a nasty habit of popping up all the time. Not nice at all.
When I finally tracked down the little beastie last week - immediately made me think of dearest darling 'Jezebel' who got mentioned in yesterday's Izzie whinge.
The Second Coming -- W. B. Yeats
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Iz thinks this is the sort of stuff that should be lurking in balls on those shelves at the Department of Mysteries
Three whole weeks of deprivation - of having neither time nor money and sometimes none of both. But since it's pay day and Iz was good and printed out those assignments yesterday - can spend today pottering a bit.
Will be a different story if the lecturer doesn't collect them yet again.
Well now is a chance to catch up on those odd snippets here and there that I'd been meaning to post.
This time a bit of poetry. Strange - there are three poems that constantly pop up at the most unexpected times and places in the ickle green Izzie skull. One is a strange combination of everyday banality and unsufferably beautiful haunting lines. The Big Cat knows which one that is.
The second is extremely spooky and creepy and just plain damned wierd. A most evil meme indeed. Not too many poems can give Izzie nightmares but this one did. It gets to the parts the other poems can't reach.
And the third - Iz was grumpy and peeved the other week. Had a big rant and whinge in LJ - The mind works in mysterious ways. Iz picked a title for this rant - "Things fall apart" and got to thinking that it's a long long time since reading the poem where it came from originally though most people know it as the title of a book from some time back in the 1990's.
Yesss...Back in the 1990's 1990 itself to be very precise - lines from two of these poems had a nasty habit of popping up all the time. Not nice at all.
When I finally tracked down the little beastie last week - immediately made me think of dearest darling 'Jezebel' who got mentioned in yesterday's Izzie whinge.
The Second Coming -- W. B. Yeats
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Iz thinks this is the sort of stuff that should be lurking in balls on those shelves at the Department of Mysteries
