The Conspiracy of Claudius Civilis

inspired by this painting by Rembrandt van Rijn and the Histories of Tacitus detailing the Batavian Rebellion

Gaius Julius held up his strong hand, his sword hand
He looked out over the people with one eye,
Fearsome, sombre, and wroth.
What did he see as he spoke his great speech?
The bright rage, like a flame in his heart
As it caught on our faces and climbed?

We filled our mouths with rich red wine, hard bread,
Stuffing our faces with glory and courage.
Batavia was rising, throwing off its yoke--
No longer would our sons be conscripted
Into any army but our own.

My chief made sword-oath, the clash of metal
Was a din, hideous foreteller of the battles to come
Did Civilis see his death reflected in the steel?
He looked sad at the end, thoughtful,
But he knew what needed to be done.

I was there—old man, grey-beard, living
Perhaps beyond my time, veteran of many battles—
And even I was caught up in the fervor,
Vibrant again as a green lad before a king,
Shouting for blood with the rest.
Tremble before the empty names of legions?
Not likely! Not us!

We had brothers in that army,
Sons torn from mothers’ breasts, eager to return.
We knew the measure of those men.

And Claudius Civilis, king and hero,
Conspirator and traitor, told us all Gaul was rising.
He wrought us, sharp and eager swordsmen,
Or flat and determined as shields,
Into the army he wanted.
He had cunning and courage aplenty
And we followed him into death.

Poem12: To E--

Here's a poem I wrote for class, two years ago, as an exercise in emulating a famous New York poet. The poet I chose was Edgar Allan Poe.

TO E——
upon reading her obituary in the Herald

Thou wast a dream I had, love,
That faded ‘ere the morn.
And in it I was glad, love,
But now that dream is gone.
And thou art faded with the moon,
And I am quite forlorn.

Thou walked amid the flowers,
So thy fragrance was a spell,
And thou danced in silver showers
That watered all the vale.
But thou art gone forever,
And that is not so well.

Ah, weep, ye summer maidens!
Ah, cry ‘Alack!’ and weep!
The summer’s gone with her I loved
And God’s asleep!
And I am laden with remorse
That I must keep.

Thou wast a dream, a shadow,
A brief surprise.
Ephemeral, ethereal,
Thou faded, quick as sighs.
And I would see thee, dream thee still,
I close my eyes.

Be well, everyone.

request for help

Reposted from Li-Bee's DeviantArt.

"I'm the Secretary of Power Soccer at IUPUI. Power Soccer is a competitive team sport for people with disabilities who use power wheelchairs. The game is played in a gymnasium on a regulation basketball court. Two teams of four players use powerchairs equipped with footguards to attack, defend, and spin-kick a 13-inch (330 mm) football in an attempt to score goals. (thank you Wikipedia)

Three of our members, Matt Griffin, Case Calvert and Micheal Archer are members of the Circle City Rollers and have competed in many tournaments including the America's Champions Cup in Atlanta, Georgia. They placed second in the Championship.

Here's some videos of them going up against Indiana Sudden Impact:

[link]
[link]


We're very happy that these three talented people have made it into Team USA, who compete internationally. While there are no scheduled exhibition games, they will be doing the World Cup here in Indiana, or in France.

The thing is:

$27,500 = Cost per player to participate in all training camps and the 2011 World Cup Tournament

That's a lot of dough.

Now this is where you come in. I can't really do much to repay people. I'm just sending this out so that people from the goodness of their hearts will contribute to a worthy cause. Matt, Case and Micheal worked VERY hard to get where they're at, and I want to do all I can to help them succeed because what they do is so mind blowing. Click the Link below and then click on either Matthew Griffin, Case Calvert or Micheal Archer to donate.

[link]

If you can't help money wise, you CAN help by posting a journal linking back to this one. Spread the word, every little bit of help counts!"

So I've reposted this so that you guys, the few of you who read my journal, can help these guys if you want to.

An Open Letter to Congressmen as Written by Joreth

the original can be found on Joreth's livejournal.

Dear Sirs,

I don't care if you, personally, don't approve of abortion. You will never be faced with having to make the choice to have one or not, nor will you ever face having your choices be limited because you don't have enough money to afford the privileged healthcare that you currently enjoy, and are forced to rely on government aid just to survive.

Your purpose as my elected official is to do what is best for your constituents, and as a representative of half of your constituents, what is best for us is to have old men like you back the fuck out of my ability to make decisions regarding my body. That ability should not be hampered by what we can afford, since most of us do not have the luxury of simply changing insurance plans to a completely privatized plan that can offer services without fear of the government pulling its assistance.

So quick dicking around with the abortion clause in the healthcare debates and stop cutting out women's healthcare options because you have a personal, misogynistic, old tome written by Bronze-age sheepherders that tells you to put us in our place.

Sincerely,
Someone who can vote you out next term but for whom the damage will have already been done

New Poem! At last!

The writer's block is over! Boy does that feel good.

When Winter Came

I was a child when winter bowled me over
With freezing lips and fire-crystal eyes
I was a child still playing in the clover
When winter came, she found me paralyzed.

I was a youth when I first joined the dreaming,
With starlit eyes and magic in my hands,
I was a youth; my eyes were quick and gleaming,
I rode the ocean-waves, played in the sands.

I was a sage when winter crawled into me
With razor teeth and soft, translucent fur
I was a sage; I let each breath pass through me
When winter came, I knew and welcomed her.

I was a ghost who drowned in dreams of danger
With lidless eyes, and sulphur in my bones
I walked a ghost in dreams and planes still stranger
I was a dream, asleep among the stones.

~*~
Hope you're all doing super-well.

Love,
Penny

Open Love/Polina Poly Party

For the small number of people who read my various blogs, I am announcing here first that Michelle and I are planning the first big public party for Open Love NY that will be a joint celebration for my 19th birthday.

It's going to be at the Lyons Wier Gallery, 175 Seventh Ave. (at 20th Street) on Saturday, Nov. 14 at 7:30 p.m. Non-alcoholic beverages and snacks will be served. Admission is $10, which also gets you a limited-edition Open Love NY bracelet. Plus, $1 from each ticket sold will be donated to poly-related efforts that are important to the poly community.

Lyons Wier Gallery is conveniently located near the 23rd Street Stations on the C, E, 1, F and V subway lines. More details will be forthcoming in the next few days, but I wanted to start getting the word out here.

Poem10: Bedtime Story

Here's an old poem I wrote as a New Year's Present for a very close friend of mine. Here it is:

A Bedtime Story

I’ve got a story for you, darling, she says
I frown and answer, Darling?
The night is rain-filled and
our windows refract starlight
a million crystal lights dance on our walls.

The story is simple: a beginning, an end,
A middle tying the two together, smoothly
But it’s the darling she began it with that echoes
And I cannot fathom it.

In the starlit velvet night of our beginnings,
The story is just another story
But the epithet, so filled with sweetness and
rolling off the tongue like pearls or candy…
Well,
you know that voice as I do,
how in the turn of the phrase,
she can plait each word like hair
and spear it through unto perfection.

I do not know
if it’s the thread of story
or a whispered darling
or stars like diamonds in her hair
or rain on the window fracturing the stars
but life tastes sweeter, somehow,
in the darkness;
and somehow, life is better
in her arms.