It’s Playtime

But the Consul’s brow was sad,
And the Consul’s speech was low,
And darkly looked he at the wall,
And darkly at the foe;
“Their van will be upon us
Before the bridge goes down;
And if they once may win the bridge,
What hope to save the town?”

Then out spake brave Horatius,
The Captain of the gate:
“To every man upon this earth
Death cometh soon or late.
And how can man die better
Than facing fearful odds
For the ashes of his fathers
And the temples of his gods,

[Via Satellite:

Mr Johannes regrets terribly his very long absence — Alas, Imaginary Constructions need the occasional  vacation too.   In the meantime, Mr Johannes would like to relay from his undisclosed chateau that he’s given his personal seal of dialectical approval  for the Zoo-BBC TV series: ‘Ashes to Ashes’ and ‘Life on Mars’ — he’s quite certain no elucidation is required.]

Advertisements
Aside

Heroes and Villains, and the foolish little-boy-in-me who follows them too!

[I’ve been felled by a silly little Flu the past week and I do promise to check-up on all my talented blogger friends and their artistic endeavours hopefully by tomorrow.  In the meantime, since the annual epic quest to retrieve that most famous of silver chalices looms near; and since the boy in me still demands his presence to be foolishly felt during such a time; and my Black & Gold came oh so very very close to drinking from Lord Stanley’s famously shining cup last year, I thought I’d break away from all my usual silly dialecticalness for a brief moment and instead embed a few videos.

 

The first was CBC’s last-year opening playoff montage accompanied by the sounds of one very excellent rock band.  I must say, there’s really nothing quite like gallant heroes jousting against dastardly puck-stealing villains, or swashbuckling swordsmen doing battle with net-hoarding armored ogres! Valhalla anyone?  The second one PLEASE start it at the 4:20 mark.  There’s a ridiculous reason for this(The whole video is terrific, and the first part is good, so if you feel inclined certainly do watch).  Ridiculous reasons can be motives you know.  😉  Perhaps my delightful readers, known or unbeknownst to this video’s creator, there’s something else hidden below it’s immediate surface besides greedy owners and pampered players, or ridiculous ideologies, or just a mere celebration of a sport…perhaps, just perhaps, there’s something of a deeper nature…or perhaps I’m just being a silly boy  ;).

 

 

[START AT 4:20 MARK]

 

diverted

Such a powerfully evoking sentiment in poetic verse by the extraordinarily talented ‘Flameinthesnow’.

Flameinthesnow

A train departs from Korosten
heavy with grain from chernozem,
squeals to a halt at Jitomir,
shadows approach the engineer.

They douse the blinking lanterns first,
garrote the guards and seize the train,
shunting it onto a siding,
chanting and stamping, brave Hutsuls.

Latches–flung open–doors unsealed,
sacks and crates fly from hand to hand,
curtains are torn, metal screeches,
hammers clang, all that shifts is stripped.

Never to Kyiv will this train glide,
not without throttle, pins or brakes,
wheels, or valves of bronze and copper,
nor will it serve the Moskali.

Taken in vengeance for their loss–
a bow long strung, golodomor–
Hutsuls, that engine was a life–
sadly granted, a raided corpse.

And yet a marvel haunts these woods:
eased from a coppice, Niavka,
singing, touches the cold iron,
where rose stars blossom in green moss.

View original post

Midnight is where the Day begins(partial fragment)

[partial journal page entry of a melancholic enthusiast found crumpled up and floating in the middle of a puddle amid a crowded street ]

Alice:    ‘What a funny watch!’  ‘It tells the day of the month, and doesn’t                         tell what o’clock it is!’
Hatter:  ‘Why should it?’  ‘Does YOUR watch tell you what year it is?’
Alice:      ‘Of course not,’  ‘but that’s because it stays the same year for such a                   long time together.’
Hatter:   ‘Which is just the case with MINE,’

MIDNIGHT

May 15th, ____

…I know you, you anxiously driven thoughts.  I know that one can infatuate her with words.  I can totally apprehend how Richard III could overpower a woman who was his ennemi juré and change her into his lover mistress. I know that there is nothing that works so effectively on her as falsehood, a lie, when it is rendered with the fire of wild enthusiasm, with the poisonous thrill of lust.  I know it; she actually does not love such a person, she almost loathes him, but she becomes dizzy, intoxicated, she submits. It was as if an evil spirit wanted to possess me—these spiritual trials enervate, and one becomes weary of shrieking, weary of crying, weary of raging, if nothing comes of it.  It already dangled before me as deposit a presentiment of almost superhuman powers by which I would accomplish great things—in that way rescue my pride and save my honor.  Oh, it is a hard road, the transition of being larger than life in the power of seductive evil to being nothing, nothing whatsoever, less than nothing, and even less than nothing through the antecedent aberrations of my thought…

[Smudged-out]

…I suppose I’m really like an Etch A Sketch that life plays with in order to see on me just how it might look.  Similarly, an artist too has a sketch to which he now shades a little here and from which he now erases a little there before and while his brushstrokes poeticize the canvas; similarly, the mathematician’s pencil drafts a calculation, crosses it out, and then makes a new calculation before he proceeds to finalize his proof.  And similarly, I am only a sketch, only a calculation…

[Smudged-out]

…The Hatter got himself in trouble for ‘beating’ Time.   I often wonder if years later Alice inwardly never forgot his punishment.  I wonder if she began to fully realize how terribly tragic was his sentence.  I wonder then, if her sympathies for his plight might eventually become overwhelming to her and that she must visit him again—She had to find out if Time was truly justified with such a cruel imprisonment.   But then, what might Hatter reply back with to her questioning? How could Alice understand fully when the one that…

I don’t know you
And you don’t know the half of it
I had a starring role
I was the bad guy who walked out
They said be careful where you aim
‘Cause where you aim you just might hit
You can hold onto something so tight
You’ve already lost it

Dragging me down
That’s not the way you use to be
You can’t even remember
What I’m trying to forget

It was a dirty day
Dirty day…

You want explanations
Things I don’t even understand
If you need someone to blame
Hey, throw a rock in the air
You’re bound to hit someone guilty…

[Smudged-out/End of Page]

Tableau of Alice, the March Hare and the Mad Hatter at the tea party in ALICE IN WONDERLAND reproduced from THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF LEWIS CARROLL by Stuart Dodgson.

Tableau of Alice, the March Hare and the Mad Hatter at the tea party in ALICE IN WONDERLAND reproduced from THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF LEWIS CARROLL by Stuart Dodgson.