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iridiss · 8 months

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I want a (non-canon compliant) Narinder whose gentle.

I want a Narinder who was once a kitten, newly crowned immortal, under Shamura’s careful mentorship. Who grew up the hard way, who learned you have to be rough, loud, mean, manipulative, and maniacal, you have to be bloody and violent and cruel, in order to survive in this world. In order to survive against Leshy and Heket’s brutality and Kallamar’s back-handed cunning. He learned from a family cruel and cold that love was a fool’s game, that sentiment was insignificant, that caring was weakness. So he scoffed at caring for anybody at all and learned how to break and toy with people as if they were dolls, made only for his own consumption and desire. That’s what his siblings told him, that’s what Shamura told him, that’s what his subjects and the fight to survive told him.

But he never saw his toys fit for anything more than the most necessary use, he never let them come any closer than professional arms-reach business, and he made sure to throw them away the second they were no longer strictly necessary. And he hated the cruelty of his siblings. He hated how they treated him, he hated how they made him fight for his fair share. And then he kept rebelling against the doctrine of the Old Faith. He would take the cruel, old, traditional rules of how one was supposed to act, and he would take them more as loose suggestions than anything severely concrete that you had to live by. He would start making up his own rules, or ignoring other rules that he simply didn’t like or deemed “inconvenient.”

He quickly became the black sheep of the “family.”

And then the Gods of The Old Faith betrayed him. And everything he was ever taught became a horrible lie. Everything became unjust. Everything turned into a false, corrupted kingdom that had to be torn down, that he could fix, that he could replace with something better. He tore it all down, violently lashing out against the family he had trusted, the family he had followed to the end of the road at his own expense, tearing them apart with his own two hands, because the scars he bore over the years became far too fucking loud to bear. Because everything had been a lie all along. Everything had been wrong, this whole damn time.

And they killed him for it. He screamed so loud about their lies that they simply had to smother the sound. They murdered their own brother—if he was ever a real “brother” to them at all, or nothing more than another religious heir to a crooked throne.

He was a God turned exiled heretic.

So he’d make his own fucking kingdom instead. He would undo everything, and start anew, following the doctrine he always knew was better. What he thought was superior. But problem is, it’s not that easy to shake off the entirety of one’s religious upbringing overnight. He was still clinging on. He would scream and shout about the incongruities and arrogance of The Old Faith all damn day—but then he’d keep Aym and Baal, a gift from his old mentor and oldest sibling, close to his side. He would call them fools and tyrants and wretched liars, but he’d remember the Darkwood flowers with a fondness, yearning to stand in his brother’s flower fields again someday. He would stay in the Lamb’s cult, when he could easily become a constant dissenter and leave like any other follower, when he could attack them, maybe even kill them, at any given moment. He doesn’t. He stays. He clings on to the fondness. He never fully let go of that old sentimental feeling.

I want a Narinder who doesn’t understand what love looks like, because the closest thing he’d ever known to true, honest love growing up was the scraps he’d receive from a withdrawn and uncertain Shamura. Those rare moments where Shamura was kind, warm, gentle, full of love, when he’d listen to the lullabies and the poems that they would weave to put him to sleep, when he’d be wrapped up in the blankets of their webs and their nests. When they would give him gifts.

When they gave him their final gift.

He doesn’t understand love. He was trained to view it as weakness. He still feels deeply, severely insecure about showing said weakness, he doesn’t want to face the severe and violent consequences of welcoming it. There’s a part in him deep down that understands devotion, that already internally understands what real trust, respect, loyalty, and integrity looks like. But it’s buried deep, under layers upon layers of indoctrination, manipulation, fear, insecurity, doubt, ungodly amounts of pain, and rage. He has enough of a natural moral compass to be able to tell when someone’s entire belief system is flawed or fucked up, and he has enough justice in him to want to tear the entire damn world apart from the ground up. Even if it’s just in the name of avenging the kitten in him that was forced to die all those centuries ago.

He isn’t aware of it. He doesn’t understand what’s going on inside of him. He’s never even taken an introspective glance at himself and why he feels everything that he does, he’s never even asked himself why everything hurts so much beyond the simple “my siblings betrayed me, therefore they all must die as they killed me” surface level. Frankly he’s too scared to look, so he pushed it all away and easily leans on the grinning, devilish, mean mask he always depended on before.

Then I want a Lamb that’s everything he ever needed. Literally, yes, as the vessel prophesied to save him, but also emotionally.

The Lamb had everything taken away from them by The Old Faith. They were killed and thrown away to Narinder’s feet like a broken toy. They want to destroy the doctrine of the Old Faith, they want to rip the world apart from the ground up and completely start anew. They share Narinder’s moral core, his drive for justice, his drive for revenge.

But they also learn, through their own cult, how to rule with love and mercy. They save and spare each follower individually, they marry their own followers, they cook for them, clean for them, house them, decorate for them, they love their followers. They learn that there is value and strength in utilizing the “sentiment and care” that the Bishops deemed as weakness. Literally: one of the best and most overpowered mechanics of the game is building your friendship level with your followers. You can’t live without them. You are their servant as much as they are one to you.

And when Narinder demonstrates his upbringing at its fullest by betraying Lamb and throwing them away like they were nothing more than a toy—The Lamb spares him, too.

I want to express to you how much that means, especially to him. I mean, hell, Narinder wasn’t spared by his own family. But instead, this tool, now proven Almighty God, gave him a level of grace that he wasn’t even allowed to fathom before. There couldn’t be a stronger, faster way to take a wake-up-sledgehammer to someone’s childhood manipulation. The Lamb was sent to destroy every last trace of the Old Faith, and I don’t think Narinder ever considered the extent of what that entailed.

He’d been lied to his entire childhood, being told that heart was weakness, that kindness would be his downfall, that sentiment was heresy. And yet here was a God besting him and every other deity/bishop in the land, and still cleaning up their servants’ shit with a broom. And I like to think that Narinder would undergo a massive change during his time in the cult.

He’d start off hostile and vicious and mean, because he’s still convinced that the Lamb betrayed him and “betrayal” is kind of a very emotionally heated topic for the guy right now. Even if the Lamb actually did the opposite of what his siblings did to him. He’s also terrified, confused, lost, and he certainly doesn’t trust any of the flowery, overly friendly mortals getting all touchy-feely with him.

But maybe he starts to show a little more wistfulness and nostalgia through his side-quests, maybe he’s trying to gauge how trustworthy the Lamb is by asking them to bring him special items from his childhood, and when they follow suit, he dips his toe in the water and shows just a little bit more of his heart, a tiny, itty bitty fragment. And then they don’t hurt him for it. They treat him with the same kindness they give to all of their followers.

And over time, he starts to see that the Lamb’s dominion is one of safety. All of their safety had been violently torn from them in the hunt for the last lamb, so now they do everything in their power to make their cult a home. And they welcome Narinder into that home, and Narinder is safe, and he’s loved, and he’s taken care of, and he’s respected, and he becomes one with the community. The Lamb is able to rule like this and still keep their power. And actually, their power is tripled by their bond with their people! Their kindness literally becomes a strength, and Narinder has never seen anything like it before, but they pull it off! In fact, the Lamb literally defied and beat Narinder into the ground because they weren’t willing to give up their home and their people.

I think he’d come to see The Lamb very differently over time. He’d go from seeing them only as an insignificant weapon for someone else’s use (possibly projecting a lot onto them), to bring in total awe of them, to learning that they’re trustworthy and safe, to seeing them as an equal.

I think they’d be two halves of the same whole. They understand each other in ways that no one else ever will. They’re the Gods of Death, past and future, they belong to the same power. They sit on this throne together. They teach each other everything they ever needed. They’re immortals together. Lamb once served Narinder in total devotion, then Narinder served Lamb in total devotion, and now they’re equals in every conceivable way. They have literally trusted each other with their lives. They were forged in very similar religious trauma and bloodshed, they were there at each other’s darkest time, working as a team. They’re vengeance-bonded. They saved each other. They spared each other, gave the other a second chance. They made each other better. Bonded in blood, divine vows, death, and resurrection. They are THE POWER TEAM.

As their bond grows, Narinder would end up letting his repressed soft side shine through. I can see him allowing himself to be kind for the first time, learning to recognize that not only is it safe for him to care here, it’s fully embraced and encouraged. The Lamb will punish him if he’s too mean to one of their followers. He can be gentle here, he can let his guard down and unwind. So he does, and he becomes a whole new cat. The Lamb eventually trusts him with leadership positions in the cult, until they’re ruling side by side, as they should. Narinder moves on from any desperate reach for power, because he’s secure enough in himself to know he doesn’t need to fight for it anymore. He would fight and die for Lamb as much as they would fight and die for him. They’ve given him true sanctuary, true family. True devotion.

#Narinder my symbol and my sponge for all religious trauma #tw religious trauma #tw religion #tw religious abuse #they are ‘wow I’m not crazy’ by AJR #true devotion #cult of the lamb #cotl Narinder #cotl lamb #narilamb #but it also works for a platonic or other relationship between them #cotl headcanons #iridiswrites

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 3 months

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still thinking about crowley's fall.

That one quote, more specifically. "How much trouble can I get into just for asking a few questions?"

It's very possible I'm overthinking it. But it still reminds me so much of art and censorship, I wrote a poem on it just now, and I just wanted to elaborate on that, on why I said that an answer is judgement but a question is justice.

Back in Ancient Greece, Plato tried to outlaw writers, the storytellers. For millennia, those in power have feared people in arts, because we're not just dealers in aesthetics, we're dealers in ideas. Even in times of war, poverty, censorship, songs were sung, paperbacks exchanged in dark alleyways, stories whispered and walls covered with graffiti.

When stories are created, the writers have to balance both opposing ideas in their head, no matter how vile or repugnant. To prove that the protagonist is strong, you can't have a weak antagonist. The opposing idea has to be as strong as the one that will win for the victory to be meaningful.

Art, and stories, aren't about being right. People say we find answers in art, and maybe for some that's true, but I think what is infinitely more important are the questions it raises.

Because what is braver, what is more shattering to the status quo, than to question it? To dare to ask what if, to present an alternative, to pull an idea up to the witness stand and cross-examine it?

That's why when we see censorship, we need to look deeper. Because if an idea is truly that 'right', it will survive even the most intense of questioning, and even sceptics will have to accept its veracity. Why, then, are people so afraid of stories that question? Maybe it is because deep down, they aren't convinced themselves. They don't believe that their idea will survive the cross-examination. They are trying to keep a lie in power over the truth.

And art isn't about finding that elusive truth, it's about daring to look the lies in their face and say, maybe, maybe you're wrong. I don't know, you don't know, nobody may ever know, but maybe.

Like the Serpent of Eden, whispering, presenting that alternative of dissent to Eve. Not coercing. Not forcing her hand. But telling her that there is an alternative, whether good or bad.

That's why the writers, the artists, the musicians, those from every walk of the arts, are journalists interviewing society. We cannot allow ourselves to be silenced.

It's not about the answers offered, and whether someone agrees with them or not. It's about the questions, and if people fear the questions, maybe think about why that is.

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sophiebaybey · 5 months

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A poem to cure your leftness/socialism/communism/marxism/queerness/lesbianism/progressiveness/environmental activism/moralism

In shadows deep, where reason wanes,

A woke brigade, its grip remains.

Proclaiming truths with zealous might,

Yet blind to nuance, shunning light.

In echo chambers, minds confined,

Dissent dismissed, no space to find.

A dogma rigid, thoughts constrained,

Individuality, it's disdained.

Justice sought with biased eyes,

No room for dialogue, compromise.

Words deemed weapons, silence coerced,

Free expression quenched, diversity cursed.

Oh, woke crusaders, self-appointed,

Your righteousness leaves minds disjointed.

In pursuit of progress, heed this call,

True wisdom listens, lest we all fall.

Thanks Barry, you're right. I hate minorities now.

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torgawl · 2 months

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i was a reading a bit more on purgatory and purgatorius ignis (cleansing fire), which is a concept that existed even before the notion that purgatory itself was a third other-world domain, similar to heaven and hell, when i suddenly remembered dante's la divina commedia and decided to revisit the story a little. and i found something interesting as i was scrolling through the wikipedia page.

so, purgatory is the second part of la divina commedia, following inferno, and is an allegory telling of the climb of dante up the mount of purgatory, guided by the roman poet virgil. alegorically, purgatorio represents the penitent christian life (and christianity, as we know, is one of the core themes of fontaine's archon quests that arlecchino was a part of). while describing the climb dante focuses a lot on the nature of sin, examples of vice and virtue, as well as moral issues in politics and in the church. what's interesting, though, is that the poem posits the theory that all sins arise from love – either perverted love directed towards others' harm, or deficient love, or the disordered or excessive love of good things.

why is this interesting, you ask? let me add here a few quotes before i contextualise it:

"she is a god with no love left for her people, nor do they have any left for her" - dainsleif about the cryo archon, the tsaritsa

"her royal highness the tsaritsa is actually a gentle soul. too gentle, in fact, and that's why she had to harden herself. likewise, she declared war against the whole world only because she dreams of peace. and because she made an enemy of the world, i now have a friend in you." - childe about the tsaritsa

"everyone praises her for her kindness and benevolence, but they forget that love is also a form of sin. what if she's just trying to compensate for something?" - wanderer about the tsaritsa

the tsaritsa, the cryo archon and the person arlecchino is devoted to, is theorised and hinted multiples times to be the god of love. yes, the love that is said to be the origin of sin in la divina commedia. we can also draw parallels between the idea of perverted love talked about in the poem and the relationship between arlecchino and others, for instance the kids of the house of the hearth.

arlecchino's drip marketing including an excerpt where the scene goes from a gentle warm environment, seemingly mistaken as a loving family home full of innocent looking children, that quickly shifts into a somber and dark atmosphere under her authority - the children answering instantly, without hesitation and completely obedient -, is the perfect illustration of the duality within her character. there's an obvious exploitative and manipulative system making use of the house of the hearth and the orphans under its roof, where arlecchino (as the one running the orphanage) is the provider and the kids are brought up to be dependable and further dispatched as fatui soldiers when "potential" is recognised. and we can deduce that there's ways that their education is done from a very young age so it prevents or punishes any sort of dissent, something not hard to imagine when we know from freminet that arlecchino doesn't like when the kids cry or show emotional vulnerability, something she sees as weakness, for example. but if there's this dark side to her, there's also certain attitudes that demonstrate her care for the children or even her care for the world around her. arlecchino helping freminet get closure on his mother's death, the reformation of the house of the hearth (which we know used to have a much more punishitive and strict leader before arlecchino took over) or even her devotion and deep respect towards the tsaritsa are some examples of the way she shows care for other people. now, we can theorise that these good deeds directed towards the orphans under her care are very much purposeful to better manipulate them, but i think that's exactly what the notion of perverted love in la divina commedia tries to hint at.

besides this concept, there's something else that peaked my interest in dante's poem. dante pictures purgatory as an island at the antipodes of jerusalem, pushed up, in an otherwise empty sea, by the displacement caused by the fall of satan, which left him fixed at the central point of the earth. it's a cone-shaped island that has seven terraces on which souls are cleansed from the seven deadly sins or capital vices as they ascend. at the summit is the garden of eden, from where the souls, cleansed of evil tendencies and made perfect, are taken to heaven.

as we know, arlecchino is being introduced in fontaine, her homeland, and the idea of purgatory as an island in the sea leading its way to heaven caused by the fall of a sinful being sort of reminded me of remuria. remuria was the civilization in fontaine which directly preceded the previous hydro archon egeria's rule. its downfall occurred as a result of remus' attempt to avert its predicted destruction, and in particular, by his act of sharing his power and authority — reserved only for gods — with the four human harmosts he appointed to govern his cities. remuria eventually ended up being sunken into the abyss, devouring everything including the people and remus himself. we know there's still a region in fontaine's map that wasn't yet released, so how odd would it be that the last part to be revealed in fontaine might just be the land that was once sunken? after the little note about the samsara cycles near the tower of the narzissenkreuz ordo, which referenced a cycle called remuria, i would not be surprised at all. it's also particularly funny that fontaine is directly below celestia. yes, the floating island in the sky above teyvat which is the residence of the gods, the same gods that made remuria fall. as the contemporary philosophers of our time have said, that's sus!!!

i don't want to get too ahead of myself because i don't have a theory about what's going to happen or what role arlecchino will play exactly but i don't think it would be shocking if we got to know more about remuria during her release. and still in the purgatory idea, i think the angel of death (azreal) might be an interesting parallel to make with arlecchino. azrael's role is seen as benevolent, transporting souls after death. it fits perfectly well with the idea of purgatorius ignis, that signifies transformation. in different cultural and religious contexts, fire can also symbolize destruction renewal and even rebirth so i'm very very curious to see what arlecchino's story will be like.

#this is a very long one and it's not really a theory but i wanted to drop my thoughts because why not 😂#this + the idea of teyvat being inside a globe (either a domain or in the sea of nihility connecting with hsr) or the upside down theory #where the gods are actually trying to prevent 'enlightment' or are the equivalent to a demon realm which makes sense with the archon's name #would also be cool if arle ended up being a figure sort of like the grim reaper you know?#slightly different from the angel of death but similar enough concepts. [LEAKS ALERT] she's said to have scythe so that'd be freaking fun!!#does this make sense? i hope so. this was a bit of a mess but i just needed to write it somewhere before i forgot #if anyone reads this thank you so much for taking the time and sorry if it was actually really boring :3 #arlecchino #genshin impact #genshin thoughts

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poniadeaur · 2 months

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A cringe poem I wrote years back....

Don't try to invade my personal space, Don't touch my body nor my face No, not because of your gender and race Neither because I' having bad days

It is for everyone, you're not the special case Whether in public or in the workplace Remember this basic rule always "MAINTAIN AN ADEQUATE DISTANCE"

Not that I want to treat you like dirt, I strongly mean these words, not a blurt On my thighs and under my shirt Certain touches cause great discomfort.

Trust me, it has nothing to do with the mood Only that, touching someone without consent is really lewd. Humble request, not to sound rude Just try to act a little more prude

For long, in our society it brewed A judgment rough and crude, That the victim was supposed to be reviewed But now that our senses have been renewed

All those cool dudes are really screwed Because now legal measure will be pursued You'll be surely sued And judges will be the final ones to conclude

For sexual harassment Or touching without consent So you better act a little descent Or jail will be your next segment

And all friends who've been through this,

Whatever you tolerated, whatever you underwent, Play, push, pull or another torment You need to suppress their dissent And put forward your argument

Ask for help better not too late Courage is all you need to generate Be patient, be sedate And at last, everything will be in a better state

Justice is not served in silver plate No need to hesitate And for sure, this movement, once you initiate A lot will be able to relate

Your words should debate, activate and agitate Your actions should illustrate, educate and generate Don't dominate, irritate or isolate And finally, it should cultivate and recreate Our new and safe world

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aphee-sheiz · 2 years

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So there is this monthly thing in Moscow. Near the monument of Mayakovsky, a renowned Russian poet, there gather poets of today, or simply people who enjoy poetry, and read it, whether it is their own poetry or someone else's. Naturally, this kind of thing attracts mostly dissenters. So cops hang around there too, in case someone decides to say something too extremist, but never was it heard that they actually detained someone for a poem.

I joined Mayakovsky readings once. There was this guy who joins every month, and, although there's no hierarchy or anything, runs the whole thing really. Just because he writes cool stuff and is around all the time, I guess. And he is this outgoing guy who just helps the readings run: it's a bunch of people who don't know each other and just came to read and listen to poems, after all, so it can become messy, or boring, or whatever. But he's there, and it doesn't.

So yeah, never were the poets gathering at the monument pressured too much. Until last time.

That guy was beaten up and raped by the cops. Another female poet was threatened with rape and they glued her mouth up.

Their crime? Anti-war poems they read. Words, that is.

Cops should burn in hell and stay conscious while their skin disappears in flames. They are not even subhuman, I don't know what they are, but they should die to go wherever the fuck their species comes from.

#russia

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langsandlit · 1 year

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🔵 Brief introduction to the history of Neapolitan: Origin and history of a minoritised language (from @/neapxita on instagram)

✂️ alt text under the cut !!

10th century - Placiti Campani

The first written evidence of Neapolitan dates back to the 10th century, when four sworn declarations were composed in modern-day Campania. Despite the brevity and formulaic nature of the texts, the Placiti campani provide an invaluable early example of the vernacular spoken in Campania, and allegedly the first one in the Italian peninsula.

15th century - Aragonese Court

Neapolitan becomes the main language of public administration and internal affairs of the Aragonese kingdom.

In the 15th century, the newly established Aragonese monarchy in Naples and Southern Italy pioneered the use of Neapolitan as the language of public administration and internal affairs until the end of its rule.

During this time, in addition to being one of the official court languages, Neapolitan slowly replaced Latin, and was used for poems, chronicles, and treatises. The oldest full history of Naples written in this language, however, is the Chronicle of Parthenope, which dates back to 1350, prior the establishment of Aragonese monarchy.

17th century - I

With the spread of Tuscan among elites post-1500, 17th-century intellectuals in Naples were making a case for the dignity of Neapolitan as a literary language.

While Neapolitan had been adopted by earlier authors, monarchs and religious authorities, only in the second half of the 17th century did it establish itself, although not without dissent, as a rich literary language.

Specifically, it is with the works of Giambattista Basile and Giulio Cesare Cortese that Neapolitan transformed into a fully fledged, alternative literary language (as opposed to Tuscan) used for both conventional genres and original ones, including the pastoral, novel, lyric, epic, satire, mock-epic, fairy tale, and opera.

17th century - II

Intellectuals aimed to create an illustrious vernacular that could rival Tuscan and to legitimise it as an equally worthy language.

According to Neapolitan intellectuals, Tuscan could not be given the label of a more literary language. The use of their native Neapolitan, instead of the foreign Tuscan, served to shape and legitimise an autonomous, and equally respectable, literary reality.

18th century

In the 18th century, to take a stand against the taste for Italian Mannerism in Tuscan, there was an outburst of literary production in Neapolitan.

As the literary production of the early 18th century carried forward the legacy of Cortese and Basile, literary academies in Naples hosted public readings of works in Neapolitan which were written by and for the members of the Neapolitan elites.

The 18th century was also the time in which the first grammars of Neapolitan appeared. The first to be written was Francesco Oliva’s Grammatica della lingua napolitana (1723), while the first to be published was Ferdinando Galiani’s Del dialetto napolitano (1779). Yet, despite the literary success of Neapolitan, many stigmatised it as ignoble, and the exclusive language of the plebs.

Ferdinando Galiani

For Galiani, Neapolitan was not just the language of the populace, but the cultural property of the nation.

“Therefore we do not despair yet (...) Perhaps one day our dialect will achieve the most unexpected fortune: we will defend our causes in this language, pronounce our decrees, promulgate our laws, write our annals, and do everything that the patriotic zeal of the Venetians has allowed them to do in their own harmonious dialect”.

19th century - Music

Neapolitan and Neapolitan-language music have a rich and long-standing tradition.

The earliest mention of the performance of villanellas coincides with the visit of king Charles V (or Charles II of Spain) to Naples between 1535 and 1536. The first anonymous collection of villanellas was published shortly after.

After the king’s visit, villanellas, which were sung in Neapolitan, acquired clear political undertones and became representative of Neapolitans’ national identity in the 16th century.

However, the song fest of Piererotta marks a turning point in Neapolitan music history. Starting officially in 1835, the festival constituted a major festivity attracting tourists from both within and outside the kingdom.

1861 and Fascism

At the moment of the unification of Italy in 1861, less than 2,5% of the population was able to use Italian.

Much like Latin in the previous centuries, Italian was an exclusively written and literary language known only to a minority of literate people.

The appearance of the first bilingual dictionaries immediately before and after the unification confirms that Neapolitan was not only the language of the common people but also that of the literate.

In the aftermath of the unification, these dictionaries were used to help students who were monolingual in Neapolitan to learn Italian, the language of the new state.

In the 20th century, the nationalist agenda of the fascist regime suppressed the use of all minority languages and enforced the use of Italian in its stead, especially at school. Children were beaten or otherwise punished, generating fear and shame towards their native languages.

Since then, Neapolitan has continued to be spoken, sung and written, albeit without being taught nor recognised by the Italian state, often coexisting in a situation of dangerous diglossia.

#neapolitan #napulitano #napoletano #romance languages #minority languages #minoritised languages #napoli #south italy #italy #campania #naples

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thequietabsolute · 3 months

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I cultivate hatred of action like a greenhouse flower. I dissent from life and am proud of it.

— Fernando Pessoa [1888 - 1935], who invented Tumblr before the internet in the form of tens of thousands of feverish notes, poems, plays, linguistic theory, political writings, horoscopes, criticism, translations, all of which were discovered in a single large trunk under his bed after his death. We are all of us here Pessoa — okay not quite all. People you’ve blocked are not Pessoa, obviously. They are mere shadows of shadows, and are thus forever damned 🏝️

#fernando pessoa #literature #my books #the book of disquiet #n.

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angevinyaoiz · 20 days

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reading through the og Godfather novel and it's SO fun to do so as a Medievalhead because it's of course very modern And pulpy but also a lot of passages end up feeling to me like medieval style or mediev inspired epic poetry inspired fantasy kinda. Puzo writes about Sicilians like fantasy authors do about an Cool Fantasy Race. Also ofc like Coppola pointed out it's an archetypical "Once there was a King with Three Sons" story but amusingly medieval to me in that it has that structure, especially in ch 14 where it goes into Vito's history, of like "the great emperor conquered and subdued the neighboring dissenting clans," and then lists the different groups in detail with tangential references to their Great Deeds and notable characteristics. It even mixes a little with Real History by incorporating the Capones, tho in a derisive way. (Also amusing that it follows that kind of story structure of "our great kingdom expands and flourishes.......until the TURKS pulled some BULLSHIT" )

When Vito calls the 5 families it does more of that kind of epic poem style where it sits down and lists everyone and names everyone super specifically and their loyalties and (racial) epithets, and then after the debate he makes his Cool Poetic Speech about protecting Michael which feels like to me welling out of some ancient space. This feels like it should be in some kind of verse:

This and the way Sonny is described in the Vito chapters and leading up to his death has a very epic epithets quality to it as well like ah yes, he of the Big Penis, named for devotion, witness of the First Death, wielder of the Anglo-Saxon Gun, taker of the mantle, in cold honorable rage went forth and was slain

#the godfather #mario puzo #the godfather novel #the godfather 1969 #medieval

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cyberpunkonline · 6 months

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Poetry in the Pulse of Neon: The Role of Verse in Cyberpunk Media

Racing through the realm of digital entertainment, poetry might seem like an unanticipated passenger aboard the high-speed, neon-lit trains of cyberpunk. Yet, in this clashing world, the true allure comes alive. While Raz has already delved into the connection between poetry and video games, this piece dives into the sprawling, electrified streets of cyberpunk media.

Poetry Amidst the Techno-Chaos Cyberpunk, known for its grungy cityscapes, bleeding-edge tech, and rebellious undercurrents, surprisingly, pulses with a human beat. This genre, teeming with futuristic anomalies, brings poetry into its fold, presenting an emotional counterpoint to the mechanical heartbeats. Think of William Gibson's "Neuromancer", where the prose itself often takes on a poetic rhythm, illustrating the dance between man, machine, and soul.

The Resonance of Rhyme in Rebellion Rebellion is a core theme in cyberpunk—whether it's battling authoritarian overlords, defying mega-corporations, or challenging one's own augmented reality. Poetry, a time-honored voice of dissent, naturally finds its niche here. Recall the cryptic poems in Ridley Scott's "Blade Runner," derived from William Blake's "Songs of Innocence and Experience", they set the tone for the film's exploration of humanity and artificial life.

Emotional Catharsis in the Digital Age Digging deep into the psyche of cyberpunk reveals a contemplation on identity, morality, and the essence of humanity. Amidst the techno-jargon and virtual vistas, it's the emotional crux that anchors the tales. The poetic soliloquies of the protagonist in Neal Stephenson's "Snow Crash" offer moments of introspection, bringing to light the character's internal battles amidst external chaos.

An Unlikely Pair The merging of poetry and cyberpunk seems incongruous at first glance. While poetry evokes a sense of timeless emotion, cyberpunk thrusts us into a potentially dystopian tech-fueled reality. However, their combined power is undeniable. For instance, in Richard K. Morgan's "Altered Carbon", poetic reflections interspersed within the narrative amplify the story's exploration of life, death, and what it truly means to be human.

Conclusion As cyberpunk's digital universe flickers with neon and buzzes with electric life, the soft echoes of poetic verse offer a grounding touch. Far from mere ornamentation, poetry in cyberpunk serves as a bridge, connecting the vast digital expanse with the enduring human soul. In a world increasingly interfaced with tech, perhaps it's the poetic word that keeps our human essence alive and pulsating.

- REV1

#poetry #cyberpunk #resistance #rebellion

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