when I’m not writing things, I hang out with thegirlwithyellowhair

me

imagine the dome
edged in ivory shell
golden adornments 
which cascade in curls

who lives in there, i
of consciousnesses
and electrical impulses
which are called me

i am but a muddle
of fire, water, cells 
which breathe of life
sparked, unforgiving. 

any south africans in the house holllllaaaaa

i shouldn’t ever talk like that, should i?

i’m so happy.

subjective

once i loved a man of words,
rather the words of a man,
and his heart grew to mine
but the waters flowed, onward.

once i loved a poet, far away
he wrote me beauty in ink
and his heart broke for me,
because remained i, subjective. 

soft

how can words be soft,
yet how anything but
as lights gentle glow  
from age-old windows

but soft, what is the light
in angel shape beaming
your bold beloved breezes
a renaissance poet’s dream 

beloved

a three beat syllable trip
as honey on the tongue 
drips its sweetness down
your delicate swirled words 

sweet hearted you are
sweetheart of mine
silver tongued,
beloved. 

"Take a fellow’s Latin exam and replace all instances of the dative with the vocative. He will appear to be confounded by Latin declension!"

(via drollpranks)

Party On Olympus

— the fates —

“There’s a party on Olympus and we’re invited!” Lachesis and Atropos exchanged disbelieving looks, while Clotho continued to dance around their cavern, squealing and giggling in excitement. Of course they were invited, said the looks, they were the Fates! They had determined that the party would happen, sending countless omens to Zeus. The bird signs made of dancing eagles had been particularly tricky, as eagles are notoriously uncoordinated, but the message had finally sunk in. Upon realising the exasperated expressions on her sisters’ faces, Clotho sank back down before her loom, but continued to beam and giggle to herself. She was the youngest of the three, and had always been a little dim; her sisters had chosen for her the job of weaver because it was simple, and usually kept her quiet. Lachesis let her be, and finished measuring the thread of life she had been busy with. Her role in the trio was to allocate events and determine the lives of the immortals and mortals alike. This was the most intricate and difficult of the tasks, as she liked to remind the others, and resulted a very short temper. Unfortunately for mortals, this often produced dire effects on Earth. Atropos severed the threads when she saw fit, claiming that her status as eldest made her the wisest. In truth, she had always been vindictive and unforgiving in her approach to mortals; particularly enjoying cutting uppity Heroes’ threads. For now, however, these tasks could wait: they had fashions to predict, and goddesses to outshine!

— the skies —

In the tower room of the Sky Gods, on the mystical island of Aeolia, Iris was dancing. Her golden wings fluttered, and rainbow coloured beams of light shone from under her feet. Inwardly she thanked Zeus for giving her a day off from carrying messages, and giggled at the thought of Hermes actually doing his job. One of the beams arced straight into Helios’ mirror, and he snapped angrily at Iris to keep her light to herself. He had always been resentful that the rainbow goddess could create such a spectrum, while he was limited to the light of his burning chariot. He returned to styling his bright golden hair, just in case he saw any cute dryads during his journey across the sky. Aeolus burst into the room, beard askew, exclaiming about something he had heard on the wind. As he was lord of them this was a frequent occurrence, and often bored the others with trivial matters, but this was an exception. He smoothed his beard proudly, opened his mouth, and was interrupted by the arrival of Selene. She drifted into the room, silver moon dust wafting behind her, and glared scornfully at Helios. He, realising the time, dashed from the room and Aeolus began to call after him that he had news! There was to be a party on Olympus, and all drinks were on Zeus! He turned, seeking acknowledgment from the goddesses, but they were already lost in thoughts of rainbow garlands and sparkling grey dresses.

— the underworlds —

It was a typical twilight day in the Underworld, when Cerberus came bounding into Hades’ throne room with a letter between his jaws. To souls on the shores of the Styx, he was a vicious, snarling, ferocious canine, but alone with Hades and Persephone, he was just a happy mutt (albeit with three heads). Persephone presumed the letter was yet another from her mother Demeter, checking in to see if her daughter was safe around her husband: the “dangerous” Hades. It was the overbearing goddess of Earth who had come up with the horrible abduction story which still shadowed the infernal couple. Whatever Hades had been like before her arrival, her sunny disposition had brightened not only the underworld, but it’s king and the pair were actually very much in love. As Hades studied the note, Persephone draped her arm affectionately on his shoulders, peering over them to try and see. Her long golden hair flowed through her circlet of flowers onto his black robes, and he smiled up at his wife. He realised it was most likely Zeus’ affection for Demeter, her obsessive love of her daughter, and Persephone’s adoration of him which had earnt him an invite to the party. He was definitely pleased that the awkward incident in which he had declared war on Olympus seemed to have been forgotten. Persephone too was happy: the party was to be held in summer, which meant she would be able see Hades and, her mother could do about it!

— the oceans —

Poseidon was sitting in his throne room, fuming. Schools of tropical fish were swimming around attempting to entertain him, the nereids were singing his favourite sea shanties, Amphitrite had decked herself out in silk and pearls, but he refused to be cheered. How was it that Hades had been invited to Zeus’ party, and he, the great lord of the waves, earth-shaking Poseidon, had not! It was intolerable! Amphitrite, noticing her husband’s building anger, laid her hands on his arm. The gentle touch broke his train of thought, and he smiled absently at his wife. Head of the nereids, she was a gentle soul, and often lulled the waves to help distressed sailors. She waved away the cavorting fishes, and called for her sisters to cease their singing. She knew that Poseidon, in this kind of mood, was best left alone.. The last time he was this angry, he had nearly killed one of Zeus’ favourite morals, which is never a good move. It was then, as silence fell in the underwater palace, that two dolphins swam in, bobbing in the water in the approximation of bows. One approached the dais and laid an envelope at Poseidon’s feet. With a uncharacteristic whoop of joy, the sea-god pulled Amphitrite to him and began dancing around the room. The attendant nereids rushed to read the, now abandoned, letter: they were all invited to the party on Olympus. The dolphins glanced at each-other in horror; what would Dionysus do to them this time?!

— the bachelors —

Hermes was a little nervous, but then he had a perfect reason to be so. Apollo was running late and he was stuck in a room alone with Dionysus and Ares, both of whom were avidly getting stuck into the wine. The messenger god was only ever allowed, by occupation, to drink nectar, and so was reduced to sitting awkwardly in the corner. Not so much the others; they had quickly reached their third bottle and the conversation was turning inevitably towards women. Ares threw himself into this, despite the fact his conquests were small fry in comparison to the wine god’s. He didn’t particularly care; nymphs were easy conquests and he was after a challenge. Of course, this meant Aphrodite – he and the love goddess had been flirting for millennia. He knew that she did this with everyone, but nonetheless, a god can dream. He wondered if she’d be adverse to involving some chains..  As Ares drifted off into Aphrodite-land, Apollo strode in and jovially snatched the wine-cup from Dionysus’ hand. Dionysus frowned, and briefly considered the pros and cons of giving the elder god vines for arms. He laughed it off instead, and motioned to a nearby satyr to fetch him a new cup. Apollo would probably embarrass himself later by trying to seduce one of the three virgins later anyway. For now, however, they could all get down to business; getting royally drunk and getting Dionysus to tell the story about that time with Poseidon’s dolphins..

— the virgins —

Hestia always felt nervous when Artemis and Athena were around. Both were temperamental, jealous and always carried offensive weapons, while she… Well she was pretty good with a cooking pot. Still, being one of the three Virgin goddesses promised her some form of protection from up higher, as well as being a brilliant excuse to avoid the bachelor gods. Apollo was always trying it on, much to the chagrin of his sister. At this particular moment, however, thoughts of her twin were as far from the mind of Artemis as could be. She’d taken a wonderful woodland bath in preparation for this party, (with the minor inconvenience of slaying a peeking hunter – Act… something), as her little choir of girls had sung of the best of her glorious hunts. A beatific smile blazed on her face at the memories of this, and she began to arrange her hair, plaiting in rows of her favourite red amaranth flowers. Athena smiled at this act of adornment – she didn’t know why Artemis bothered – she herself was clearly the most beautiful of the Virgins. The most beautiful of all, for that matter, regardless of the opinions of idiotic Trojan princes. Even without her beauty, she thought, she was definitely the most respected of the three. What other woman availed herself in war? And won! She would have to remind Ares of that time when she and Diomedes had stabbed him in the stomach.. Embarrassing him was always greatly amusing.

— the lovers —

Cupid had just finished telling Aphrodite about his little spying trip down to Athens, where the Virgin goddesses had been getting ready. He had been sent to see, and this was so petty he could barely bare to think of it, what they were going to wear. His mother really was ridiculous sometimes, and now she was asking the most banal questions about the length of their skirts and the style of the plaits in their hair. At least the party would be amusing – he’d get her back for these stupid errands. Ares would be on hand.. That would be interesting.. Aphrodite did not notice that her son was no longer listening, and continued her prattle about the fashions of her biggest competitors. Persephone didn’t count, she’d just come in that hideous black Hades loved, while Demeter and Hera were just so much older looking… It was between those silly virgins, and herself. Why they hid away from men so much, she simply didn’t understand – it was with men where one could have the most fun, and they were simply too easy to manipulate. Especially when Cupid was in a mischievous mood. With this, she turned her mind back to thoughts of the party.. She would put diamonds in her hair, as flowers were obviously for minor goddesses, wear her best silk sheath, with a little matching one for Cupid and the gold sandals.. It would be a brilliant party, with herself at the centre…

— the kings —

So far it had been a great disaster, thought Hera. For one thing nobody was paying the slightest bit of attention to her – all the gods had been effectively drooling over Aphrodite, the great hussy, and all the goddesses were marvelling at Persephone’s stories about the underworld. Apparently Julius Caesar was a great joker, not that she would know, or indeed care, she was above such things. She sipped her nectar and frowned. Why did everyone always have to get so drunk, what was wrong with good old-fashioned nectar. There had already been some incidents – mainly Dionysus taunting those dolphins of Poseidon’s, and Hestia slapping Apollo for making some obscene comment about housekeeping duties.. Why couldn’t they all just do what SHE wanted? And why was Cupid giggling in the corner? For that matter, where had Aphrodite and Ares disappeared off to? Zeus noticed his wife’s expression and rolled his eyes – here we go again. It really was just easier to ignore her moody fits, but, secretly, he did really care for her and hated to see his queen looking so miserable. And he probably shouldn’t have been staring after those nymphs that Apollo had brought along, but they were just so chaseable. But back to the point.. Hang on, Leto was looking rather good too.. He was getting off topic. Again. He would make a toast. “Here’s to Hera, everyone, for throwing this party with me! Now let’s drink the rest of this wine!”

Anonymous asked: If someone from here to hang out with you and get to know you in real life, what would you say? ~

i’ve already met wonderful folks such as thegirlwithyellowhair and grandchariots in the big bad world, the more who join us the merrier.

prostitutes’ graveyward

walking back towards borough from london bridge, i took a back route behind the high street, to wander amongst victorian warehouses. this is what i saw.

the click of my shoes,
is as the patter of yours
on these old cobblestones
you in skirts, i in cotton.

we both have whistled tunes
mine at air, yours at the men
who had flung you to the wall 
and then flung you down, here.

the world whirls a street over,
but not with you. here, we stop.
mourning women’s losses, tied
in ribbon on the metal bars.