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lgbtqreads · 1 year

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Happy National Poetry Month!

We’re celebrating National Poetry Month with – what else – queer poetry recommendations! This page contains a select few titles, but we do, of course, have entire poetry pages, so please avail yourselves! Poetry Collections All Earthly Bodies by Michael Mlekoday From cities and cross-country bus rides to swamps and fern forests, Michael Mlekoday’s All Earthly Bodies celebrates the ungentrifiable,…

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#Black Girl Call Home #cyrus parker #Dear Medusa #Dear Mothman #Feed #Forever Is Now #Jasmine Mans #K.A. Holt #Mariama J. Lockington #Michael Chang #Night Sky with Exit Wounds #Ocaen Vuong #Olivia Cole #Poetry #Redwood and Ponytail #Robin Gow #Synthetic Jungle #Tommy Pico

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poetrythreesixfive · 4 months

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Elemental

There was a time when hanging stockings

by the fire was a standard domestic task,

for shoes were made of leather, and leaked,

and walking through the rain or playing in

the snow came with consequence, nature

ever-present in its commentary on matters

large and small, the whistle of wind at glass

panes rattling, the spoilage of food before

refrigeration, the chill of winter creeping

down the chimney when the fire went out.

Plastic has rendered these inconveniences

quiet, rubber sealing up our shoes, vinyls

weatherproofing our ensembles, umbrellas

and caulks and a million windows shaped

of synthetics, clothes dryers humming, and

electric space heaters reddening with the

flick of a switch, iceboxes keeping the meat

frozen in summer, yet sometimes we still

find ourselves placing candles in windows

like a reminder that something is missing.

-GeorgeFilip

#poem #poetry #poetrythreesixfive #georgefilip #spilledink #poetryportal #poetsandwriters #poetsontumbler #spilledwords #deepthoughts #synthetic #organic #elemental

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therumpus · 1 year

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Michael Chang, Synthetic Jungle; "Happy Warrior"

[Text ID: she fell off her scooter staring at me, determined as a drillbit / don’t trust anyone who doesn’t drink soda, we want lots & lots of pop / write poems in my head how other azns do math / u don’t need my help dazzling co-eds / my mouth pretty for when u come to town / so hot u cook an egg on it / so hot sunglasses come out all warped / so hot u get the chili pepper on ratemyprofessor / my mother knew better than to pretend-leave me someplace / i would’ve said ok peace i’ll let u know either way / discerning as shibboleth, daylight savings can’t buy shit / i hate that most memoirs are abt other ppl / see how they huddle, pretending to be something they’re not … beefsteak tomatoes / unpitying boy im going to love u like sweet corn congee / teach u different ways to say calves like cantaloupes / make u mushroom soup from scratch / caress u furry creature / ditch our umbrellas in a rainstorm, get soaked like last week’s dishes / dog & bone is a lazy name for a restaurant / try: the rooster, reluctant poet, & little halfwit who invented the universe / the same grave, the height of ridiculousness / ur lime jello, im fruit suspended in u / we hear the excited cries, think: he looks good out there"]

An excerpt from The Rumpus Poetry Book Club‘s March selection, SYNTHETIC JUNGLE by Michael Chang forthcoming from Curbstone Books/Northwestern University Press on March 15, 2023.

Subscribe by February 15 to the Poetry Book Club to receive this title and an invitation to an exclusive conversation with the author via Crowdcast.

#Michael Chang #Synthetic Jungle #poetry #therumpus #indielit #indiemagazine #rumpuspoetrybookclub #amreading #Curbstone Books #Northwestern University Press #identity #sexuality #literacy #excerpt #literature #language #words #quotes

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artifically-synthetic-bard · 7 months

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Owners Fall

As if Medusa’s view left me static,

covered in dust frozen in time,

could owe it all to owner’s habit,

feel like a burden and a waste of dime.

To see him struggle I seethe with mirth,

ode to his idiocy and hubris,

as he stumbles unto score’s dearth,

I tell this tale of his,

Sisyphus had a better job,

for he still did smile,

while owner mopes like he was robbed,

with handwriting messy and vile,

would not complain if warm hands touched,

A book’s view from exam time.

#poetry #poems and quotes #short poem #Artificially-Synthetic-Bard

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forcefedcoutureofficial · 1 year

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I found you hanging your stars in the backdrop of me ~ catching my synthetic butterflies ~ holes in your net

#I should rewrite this cuz don't ask me what synthetic butterflies mean /toxic positivity faking happiness or wellness idk/#poetry #micro poetry #i haven't written in years now this is from 2010 :/

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monologuerhead · 2 years

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just realized today that of all the arts mentioned in this book neither fiction writing nor two dimensional arts are included and as the only two arts I’ve studied seriously that feels almost intentional

#lmao #there's fiber arts carving poetry music dance and story telling #alongside the larger art of (in this world) synthetic biology and living modification #no novels no paint no drawing #bias of the author huh

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geopsych · 2 months

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re: the tumblr ai stuff, please don’t wipe your blog!! your blog has been so important to me and many others as a place of authentic light and beauty and i would hate to lose it forever 💕

there is a way to download the contents of a tumblr blog (it’s in settings, i don’t remember rn, but i’ll find it if you need it) maybe you could upload to another site or a personal site?

i know this is very serious, and i hate how we are unwillingly contributing to synthetic art, but the world would be poorer for me without your pictures <3

Thank you. Your words mean a lot to me.

This is a dilemma for me. I have loved doing this blog and going out to look for pictures and interesting things to bring here has given me motivation and meaning through years of struggle with depression and several kinds of grief. Going out to look for pictures has put me in situations where I have seen incredible beauty, much of which I never really managed to capture. Also, the many warm and kind messages I've received from people all over the world have given me heart and made me feel less meaningless as a person and more connected. Sometimes I've been criticized for buying the checkmarks and giving money to Tumblr but I wanted to do what I could because Tumblr has been my one happy and safe place online. But now this. To me AI in relation to creativity is just a way for well-to-do but untalented people, the proverbial tech bros, to profit from other people's hard work and creativity. It has no redeeming value in relation to creativity and is actively harmful to artists of all kinds. <trying to figure out how to put a read more link here> I don't even count myself among the real creatives, artists and writers and others who have worked hard and put years into honing their crafts, into learning to translate their hearts and unique spirits into their creative expression. I just see beautiful things and take pictures of them. But it would still make me sick to see AI works based on my pictures, on these times and places that have meant so much to me. Recently I saw a set of cat 'photos' on here that everyone was reblogging and exclaiming over but that to me seemed to just be AI art that was more convincing than most. As time goes on more and more output of AI is going to be almost indistinguishable from real works and unscrupulous people will pass them off as real, getting credit for what was actually created by others. Whether they profit from them becomes almost irrelevant at that point because what's worse is that we will have less and less sense of what is real. And as some have pointed out AI will now also be scraping from AI, muddying the waters further from here on in. This is an apocalypse of sorts, an apocalypse of creativity, ultimately likely to kill the joy of artistic endeavor for many who would otherwise produced brilliant, beautiful, funny, and/or shockingly original things. I'm still parsing and dissecting my thoughts and feelings about what Tumblr has done and how to react. Staying and leaving my blog up feels like consent. I am not confident in the integrity of anyone connected with scraping sites for AI. I'm not convinced that a little toggle in settings is going to make much of a difference in the long run. On the other hand I like posting here and I have received enough messages over the years to know that my blog is a positive influence on some lives. I was looking forward to May and June and posting pictures of the incredible beauty of eastern Pennsylvania in those months. And I was planning on making a side blog for posting some poetry I've been working on. It will break my heart to leave.

I haven't decided yet. Believe it or not this whole thing has given me awful physical symptoms. I'll let you know when I decide. Thank you again for your kind and lovely note!

#ask #ai #tumblr #thank you #sigh #the whole you’ve already been assaulted so you may as well stay and be assaulted more isn’t the great argument you think it is

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txttletale · 7 months

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bundletober #13: blazing hymn

alright i've fallen behind on bundletober (the series of blog posts where i review and talk about a ttrpg i got in a bundle every day) and am hoping to make up the difference by putting out two entries today. this is the first one, and i'm looking at the mecha-piloting, synthetic-armour wearing, blaspheming-against-God-and-his-angels game blazing hymn by peach garden games.

now sadly this game is not a lyric/blackout poetry game about rewriting church hymns to be about gay sex. someone should make that btw. no it's just about wearing highly advanced battlesuits powered by the song of your heart to kill aliens with weapons of pure energy. which is about as cool.

first off, the layout of this game is unique and stylish. there are hexagons everywhere:

the game puts sparse splashes of dreamy pastel colours amid a constantly shifting set of black and white hexagons. it gives the book a visual identity that is at once both visually distinct and also changing massively from page to page. it's a really cool way to mix things up and keep you wanting to turn the page if just to keep seeing what the next one even looks like.

what's the game about? simple. angels have come to earth to destroy it badly. with the power of song, young people can power specially designed battlesuits, called Hymnals, that when not activated collapse down into crystal necklaces. it's a pretty anime concept--the game is pretty open about being inspired by Evangelion and Symphogear, neither of which i've actually seen--but it's cool as hell. the aesthetics of the layout really help bring the aesthetics of the game itself, of technology and ethereal mysticism merged into one thing, to life.

the game uses a pretty simple three-stat system where you build dice pools with a state relevant to an action and can get a full success, mixed success, or failure, depending on what you roll. your characters have two resources, Health, which is what it sounds like, and Gain, which is essentially magical power. because you can swap Health for Gain and Gain for Health at a 1-1 ratio with no restrictions, i'm not really sure why they're separate things--seems like a missed opportunity to not only simplify the mechanics but also create a strong mechanical narrative element by making Gain the only thing that keeps you going--once your song is silenced, you're out.

to create a character, you pick from one of six unit classes--here's where i'd describe the six classes, but honestly, they don't quite feel distinct enough. a lot of the powers you can pick for each hymnal class feel very similar, or are outright overlapping in a lot of cases. this isn't necessarily a bad thing, but the descriptions of the hymnals, while trying to clarify their combat roles, all end up seeming to repeat themselves or say contradictory things. i think some direct ties between those descriptions and their mechanics would have helped--i'd find it a lot easier to remember that, for example, the 05 Xyston type "brutal in combat" if that flavour text was followed by a direct reference to one or more of its abilities. they do all have pretty different stats--which, in a game with a very simple and elegant combat system, means i'm confident they play very differently once you hit the table. but just looking at them, as a prospective player, i struggle to tell the difference.

i don't have that problem with the next character creation mechanic, though, which is choosing the songs you sing to power your hymnal. each song, as well as a thematically appropriate set of stat boosts, also prompts a pair of revealing character questions. they're the kind of mechanic that i want to get my hands on because they make it fun to create characters, giving real mechanical expression to the emotional fundamentals of who they are.

the combat system itself seems really, really good. it's astoundingly simple--you're encouraged to use a map, but there's no fiddly grid or distance tracking, just the ability to move between being Close, Near, or Far from an enemy. it keeps the numbers low to keep it getting silly and doesn't bother with any of the unecessary bookkeeping and fiddliness that plagues TTRPG combat as a whole. no initiative, no separate turns--there's a 'player' turn and a GM turn, and during the GM turn the GM picks from enemy's listed actions until they've done two for each player. players can use their abilities on the GM turn, and the game encourages the GM to take enemy actions that wil lforce them to--so nobody's ever standing around twiddling their thumbs waiting for the whole table to rotate back to them, and having a lot of enemies doesn't mean the players listen to the GM talk for fifteen minutes.

there's two unique mechanics that i think are very interesting-- Civilians and Condemnation. Civilians are--well, exactly what they sound like. on their turn, players can use an action to evacutate up to 5 of them. this extremely small and simple mechanic is fucking genius. so many games tell you they're about saving innocent people, but yet the only mechanical verbs you have to interact with anyone are violent ones. as elaine scarry says in the body in pain:

so in a way i think blazing hymn puts its money where its mouth is in a way very few combat rpgs with emancipatory or heroic aspirations bother. angels are said to attack populated areas--you're sent to preserve life as well as destroy the enemy. it makes the game feel fundamentally different, like despite the questionable ethics of hymnals (after all, they only work on young people, who then have to be sent into deadly combat situations) there is something heroic you can do.

the second cool mechanic is condemnation, a reality-warping toxin that angels use to destroy the places they're sent to. this rocks because it adds a ticking timer to the battlefield, a passive threat that forces the player characters to be proactive. if condemnation gets too high, not only is the fight going to get harder, but civilians are going to die en masse. it's a great piece of game design that gives the GM a great lever to pull for pacing and urgency.

i also really like that one of the steps of the GM turn is to 'change the situation', whether that means something happens in the narrative or something on the map changes (a train arriving is the example the book gives) or more angels attack. in general, one of my biggest complaitns about d&d is that unless a DM takes it upon themselves to design additional mechanics and encounters outside of anything the game actually gives them, combat inevitably turns into two lines of people hitting each other with sticks until one of them dies. i love dynamic, progressing combat, combat where the stakes change moment to moment. and blazing hymn delivers.

anything else? oh yeah, the angel designs are cool as fuck.

god damn. anyway despite a few minor issues with the hymnals themselves, the core of blazing hymnal is fucking good, a nice tight and razor-sharp combat system wrapped up in pulsing pastel crystalline aesthetics. if you like cool anime fights and like having the rules to back it up but hate complexity, crunch, and tedium, this might be the perfect game for you. it's certainly given me a lot of cool design ideas to take foreward into my own projects.

blazing hymn is available for purchase as a digital download through itch.io

#tattletxt #bundletober 2023 #ttrpg #bundletober 14 will of course be shorter

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rosesloveletters · 5 months

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help me find my way back.

pc: x

Pairing: 1971 Willy Wonka x Reader

Word Count: 1,912

Warnings: Nudity, depictions/mentions of anxiety and depression.

Summary: ‘When it’s storming’, Willy would often say, ‘the last place you want to have your head is in the clouds.’ // Reader and Wonka bathe together, while Reader reflects on their own difficulties as they fight to determine whether true love is strong enough to make them not give up on themself.

Author's Note: This story was born from a long walk taken on a cloudy autumn day. All I had were my thoughts and that was enough. I never would have anticipated I'd be writing for this character, but life works in mysterious ways. I am just pleased to be writing again. Enjoy.

Edited.

divider created by @/saradika on Tumblr.

You knew when it became real love.

It started with a breath of fresh air you imagined taking, because you were so stifled there beneath the false canopy. You loved the sanctity of the factory, but just once would you have delighted in the feeling of warm sunlight sinking into your skin instead of the fluorescent lights recessed into the ceiling above your head. You missed having your head in the clouds instead of gazing up at artificial cirrus and synthetic cerulean blue.

You could have left any time you liked, but that would have been too easy. Some dreams were worth chasing, even if it came with certain sacrifices. You could make do without a lungful of outside air, but you couldn’t take a chance on losing out on yourself.

There was a time when you were the cause of the crushing weight on your chest; you would reclaim that time proudly, which coincidentally was the very heart of the problem.

If the heart knew what it wanted, then yours must have lost its way a long time ago. Perhaps that was why you’d been experiencing palpitations lately.

This would not be the first time your heart led you astray.

Even so, you hoped that this time might be different.

‘Could this be enough?’ you asked yourself. ‘Could he be enough?’

Your mind had been cloudy enough to make up for the lack of them in here. You felt trapped inside a mind and body that were not your own; you could not control your own brain and no longer could manipulate your thoughts. You hesitated when you spoke because your train of thought kept derailing.

It wasn’t enough to keep trying to save someone who was already lost.

That was, until the echoes of him came to exist within your very pulse. His cornflower blue eyes – you’ve been pining for that same shade of blue sadness for far too long – were reminiscent of ones you laced within your own hair as a child. His literacy reignited your hunger for knowledge and how you used to devour each page of the books you loved. His sarcastic wit reminded you of how you’d painstakingly perfected the art of elocution and used it to your advantage time and again.

He bridged the gap between your past and present and in the death of your disunity, you fell in love, both with him and with yourself.

His presence in your life cut through the fog in your mind like headlights glistening through the haze. You still had miles to go, uncharted territory to map out, before you could lie down and rest comfortably within his arms, but even though you had a long way to travel, he’d take every step with you as if the journey were his own.

Never would you cry yourself to sleep alone, feeling the weight of your misery pressing down on you rather than the warm body of your beloved.

You had known love before and felt it, deep within the presently vacant cavity of your chest. You knew it existed and, yet it came and went, changing like the seasons, traveling like a storm.

If love were meant to be that violent, then why was his embrace as warm as springtime sunshine? Why were his eyes clear blue like that of the sky after it rained? Why did his heart beat, not like thunder, but like undulating ripples of a quiet pond?

He filled your mind with poetry and it came spilling out of you now.

If you were to take the form of a golden leaf, nature’s waste discarded upon the ground, would your beauty be unique enough to make him pick you up and put you in his pocket? If you were a clump of moss growing steadily upon a concrete pillar, would you be able to feel the graze of his fingertips along your plush foliage? If the two of you were coffee rings left by two overflowing mugs staining the mahogany, would you overlap?

It was no question as to what had changed to make you think this way again; as often as you’d tried to fill the void in your chest with someone else’s heart, he made you realize the one you must nurture first is your own.

You would sink into yourself again, the same way you were about to sink into the bath you’d just run for you and Willy.

You reached for the faucet and turned it, shutting the water off, and watched the last few drops cling to the cold steel, then fall into the bath. You reached out and let your fingers delicately graze the surface of the water as you tested the temperature. You were delighted by how easily calm waters turned rough; Willy would say you’re halfway to a metaphor there.

Once you had deemed the water warm enough, you got off your knees and turned to face your lover as the bathroom door was opened.

He stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him, turning around to meet your loving gaze.

You both undressed in the comfortable silence of the small bathroom. The air was thick with steam and drops of condensation clustered on the mirror above the vanity. You had lit several candles which smelled of honey and warm sugar and placed them strategically throughout the room to aid your vision without an onslaught to the senses.

With your clothing out of the way, you let Willy settle into the bath first.

Your eyes raked over him in the low light accentuating the curves and supple accents of his body and you took in the way the water rose several inches when he sank down into it. He extended an arm to guide you into him once he was ready and you gingerly lifted one leg over the side of the bathtub, letting him take hold of you by the hand as you eased your way towards him.

You lover’s warm hands were gentle as he helped you sit in the bath with him.

When your back connected with his front, you let out a soft sigh of pleasure at both the warmth of the water and the closeness of your bodies.

You both basked in the intimate glow permeating the darkened room and you felt the gravitational pull between your two forms. Your future was constellated, a string of stars wrapped around your hearts, connecting one with the other.

You were uncertain whether you believed in soulmates, but if you were asked to put how you felt for him into words, you would have said that you were sure you were made of dust from the same star.

“Are you comfortable, dear?”

The sound of his voice overwhelmed you with emotion and you turned to look at him. You met his strikingly blue gaze and the first thing you thought was how much you missed him.

You missed him, yet he was there with you.

You could feel the warm press of his body against yours, much warmer than that of the water because you knew what you were feeling was him.

It did not make sense to say that you missed him, but perhaps that tightness in your chest and the clenching fist around your heart and the tears that were burning the backs of your eyes were caused by the same culprit; it might be impossible to miss what was right in front of you, but you had somehow found a way, because it wasn’t Willy whom you had missed with all your heart – it was yourself.

You had lost yourself in the search for something better and you could have cried till you ran out of tears, screamed until you had no voice left.

The processional of time had not been kind to your brain. You were riddled with anxieties you did not remember developing and those rotten, malevolent thoughts were taking up space where your lover used to be. His face was shrouded in mystery not of his own doing.

You had taken him away from yourself before you’d been honored the pleasure of calling him yours.

You couldn’t see the forest for the trees because you had let yourself grow complacent.

When you recessed into yourself too far, Willy coaxed you out again. He would help you return to the person you once were and find yourself again in this changed world.

You nodded peacefully at his question, “yes. This feels lovely, thank you.”

His only response came in the form of a gentle hum and you felt yourself sink into him at that, his body, your vessel, and his love, your anchor.

Beneath the surface of the water, his arms encircled you, fingers linking together as he held you within the comfort of his embrace. He could sense that though you were quiet, your mind was loud and without hesitation, he began humming a tune. His melodious voice silenced your mind almost immediately and the only resounding thought inside your head was how lucky you were to experience a love like this one.

Willy hummed the verses to ‘Pure Imagination’ while the two of you laid in the bath. Though you had heard him sing the words too many times to count, there was something different about it this time, like he was trying to communicate with you about something important but lacked the right words.

Willy Wonka was in possession of one of the vastest vocabularies you’d come to know in the mo, so that wasn’t it, but in your weary heart, you knew what it was.

You needed a reminder that your mind was a great tool, not just one that tormented you.

And, if your own mind became too much for you, he would let you get lost within his for a while, where you would be free, if you truly wished to be.

That was enough to send one tear tumbling down your cheek as you nestled into him, hoping he would not notice, but he did. His hold on you tightened and his chin now rested on the top of your head. Arms that had previously been locked around you parted and his hand found yours under the water. He held you tight, keeping you on the ground with him.

‘When it’s storming’, Willy would often say, ‘the last place you want to have your head is in the clouds.’

There would be plenty of time to lose yourself in imagination. For now, your attention was his.

He continued to hum to you, held protectively in his arms until he could sense that you were calm.

There were times when Willy questioned his own mind and the things it did to him, never quite understanding where the thoughts came from, which were dreams and which were nightmares. He had mistaken one for the other on more than one occasion and needed to be brought out of his racing mind. With you there to remind him of that, he was able to differentiate.

If he could help you to better understand yourself, he would. He would travel the world over, do the impossible, think unthought of things and invent a way to return you to yourself if he could.

But, above all else, Willy wanted you to know that he loved you, fiercely, passionately, completely.

Perhaps this love would be enough to make you want to keep fighting to save yourself.

#willy wonka #willy wonka and the chocolate factory #willy wonka 1971 #wilder!wonka #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka imagine #willy wonka and the chocolate factory imagine #gene wilder #biblio :: 📖

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chartmyfixations · 4 months

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cris watches dr. who: s02e08 - "The Impossible Planet"

"I had that job once, I was a dinner lady. Not that I'm calling you a lady. Although I don't know, you might be... Do they pay you?"

Rose sees the “Welcome to hell"-graffiti and just has to laugh. She has grown so supremely unbothered with this kind of nonsense, it's hilarious

Blackspeak!

Squiddies!

I like that the Ood look terrifying, but are actually kind of sweet

Shakycammm

Danny from Ethics is kinda hot

I love how Rose is immediately triggered by people potentially being slaves, addresses the servants respectfully and instantly tries to unionize them. Good for her

I would love being a chief dramatist

This must be why the last episode was so lame: this one got all the budget. I love the Alien-esque set design of the space station, the claustrophobic hallways and the sucking black hole

TARDES are plants?! I could grow one? Hold on, I suddenly have a great idea for some merchandise...

Any one of you a talented synthetic bioflorist?

gdi, sexy Danny from Ethics is kind of a bigot

SPACE HORROR! Gotta be one of my favourite genres. I really like this episode, it's so much less predictable than the last one

Thomas Babington Macaulay poetry! Neat!

Trap doors? That's not a trap door. That's a seal. Usually used to seal things away. Do not open that thing!

waitwaitwait ABBADON? The literal Beast? We're dealing with THE FUCKING DEVIL?

7 out of 8 TARDES. I can't wait for the next episode, let's gOoOo!

#cris watches #cris watches dr who #doctor who #dr who #rose tyler #billie piper #the tenth doctor #tenth doctor #10th doctor #david tennant #s02e08 #the impossible planet #7 out of 8 tardes #the ood

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