In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.
“Her green stained fingers
Bog-down and eider
a map scattered to the winds
Threads in forty shades
hours of silence
and sisters always wait behind”—The twelve Wild Geese Siobhan Rodgers 2011 (Text for the piece)
“Old George Orwell got it backward.
Big brother isn’t watching. He’s singing and dancing. He’s pulling rabbits out of a hat. Big Brother’s busy holding your attention every moment you’re awake. He’s making sure you’re always distracted. He’s making sure you’re fully absorbed. He’s making sure your imagination withers. Until it’s as useful as your appendix. He’s making sure your attention is always filled.
And this being fed, it’s worse than being watched. With the world always filling you, no one has to worry about what’s in your mind. With everyone’s imagination atrophied, no one will ever be a threat to the world.”—Lullaby, Chuck Palahniuk (via nomadicstatic)
“Black as a raven, dark as a hearse,
black as jealousy and deep dark earth.
White as snow and pure as love,
pale as bone and snowy dove.
Red as blood, raw as grief
red as birth and pure silk sheath.
Black beady eye and feathers white
red evening sky and his wings taking flight”—
“Why should women be paid equal to men? Men have been in the working world a lot longer and deserve to be paid at a higher rate. Heck, I’m a working mom and I’m not paid a dime. I depend on my husband to provide for me and my family, as should most women… and if a woman does work, she should be happy just to be out there in the working world and quit complaining that she’s not making as much as her male counterparts. I mean really, all this wanting to be equal nonsense is going to be detrimental to the future of women everywhere. Who’s going to want to hire a woman, or for that matter, even marry a woman who thinks she is the same, if not better than a man at any job. It’s almost laughable. C’mon now ladies, are you with me on this?”—
Ann Romney, wife of likely Republican presidential nominee Mitt Romney, on equal pay for women. What is this. I can’t even. More. (via gaywrites)
Dear Americans, if these people get elected and you have a passport come stay with me… This is pathetic, and scary and I don’t really know what else to say… Just pack a bag, Ireland is beautiful, and I hope more progressive than that…
“Dress suitably in short skirts and strong boots, leave your jewels in the bank, and buy a revolver.”—Countess Markievicz, 19th century Irish revolutionary, dispensing eternally relevant fashion advice. (via kittentraps)
“Be intellectually and morally rigorous in your own decision-making, and expect that the important people in your life do the same, if they want to stay important to you.”—Rachel Maddow, Smith College 2010 Commencement Address (via theworldsgotmedizzyagain)
“She knows the way
she’s traced it a thousand times,
down that path and boldly through the woods…
Red velvet on white crumpled sheets
the stars on fire
red satin scars, a mouthful of pennies
and dark velvet earth”—
“Her sorrows slung around her neck;
a litany of time and salt.
a mother’s love
White and fierce
as pale as death and bible black
her wind fallen beauty gone sour
and that apple never falls far from the tree”—Snow White - Siobhan Rodgers 2011
“Those stars whirling overhead
snow like sherbet on her tongue
the red maps calling her onward
And she isn’t china and porcelain
she’s chaos theory and between the lines
she’s fire and patience
and a pair of red shoes…”—
“A brave man would have left them be
appreciated them for what they were
a wild thing
charmed and tousled.
As it was he cut and pulled
until all that remained were neat stumps
brown and hopeless”—
-Briar Rose, Siobhan Rodgers 2011
(The text on the wall beside the previously posted piece…)
So tomorrow is my birthday… I’d love flowers and cake with candles, starry skies and cards with notes, little forever keepsakes and more than anything; friends and family, but it will pass unmarked and I’m trying not to let that break my heart. The past year has been the most difficult of my life,…