Pyramid poems
More Types of Poems
2024.05.09 09:56 adulting4kids More Types of Poems
- Terza Rima: A poetic form consisting of tercets (three-line stanzas) with interwoven rhymes, often used by Dante in "The Divine Comedy."
- Clerihew: A humorous and whimsical poem of four lines, with irregular meter and rhymes, focusing on a person, often the poet.
- Triolet: An eight-line poem with a specific rhyme scheme (ABaAabAB), featuring repeated lines.
- Ballad: A narrative poem often set to music, telling a story with a strong rhythm and rhyme.
- Renga: A collaborative form of Japanese linked-verse poetry, typically composed by multiple poets in alternating stanzas.
- Senryu: Similar to haiku, but focuses on human nature and emotions rather than nature itself.
- Paradelle: A complex and rare form of poetry that repeats lines with variations, creating a challenging structure.
- Golden Shovel: A form where each word in a line of an existing poem is used as the end word in a line of the new poem.
- Haibun: A combination of prose and haiku, often describing a journey or a nature experience.
- Villancico: A medieval Spanish poetic form often used in songs and carols, characterized by repetition and refrains.
- Palindrome Poetry: A poem that reads the same backward as forward, creating a mirrored effect.
- Blackout Poetry: Creating poetry by selectively redacting or highlighting words from an existing text, often creating a visual element.
- Tetractys: A five-line poem with a syllable count of 1, 2, 3, 4, 10, creating a pyramid shape.
- Rubaiyat: A Persian form of poetry with quatrains, typically written in iambic pentameter with the rhyme scheme AABA.
- Fibonacci Poem: A poem following the Fibonacci sequence for syllable counts in each line (0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, etc.).
- Calligram: A visual poem in which the words or letters are arranged in a shape that reflects the poem's subject.
- Shape Poetry: Poems that take on a visual shape related to their subject, enhancing the overall meaning.
- Tanka Prose: A prose poem followed by a tanka, combining the concise nature of prose with the emotional depth of tanka.
- Found Poetry: Creating poetry from existing texts or found materials, rearranging and recontextualizing words.
- Blitz Poem: A form of poetry with a rapid, stream-of-consciousness style, using repetition and wordplay.
- Sevenling: A seven-line poem with specific guidelines, including three lines with three elements, and a concluding statement in one line.
- Pantun: A Malay poetic form with quatrains, featuring an interlocking rhyme scheme between stanzas.
- Cento: A collage-like poem composed entirely of lines from other poems.
- Cinquain Chain: Connecting multiple cinquains to create a longer poem or narrative.
- Rhyme Royal: A seven-line stanza with a specific rhyme scheme (ABABBCC), used by Geoffrey Chaucer.
- Haiga: A combination of haiku and visual art, where an image complements the haiku.
- Minute Poem: A strict 60-syllable poem with a 8-4-4-4 structure and specific rhyme scheme (aabb).
- Nonet: A nine-line poem with a descending syllable count in each line, often 9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1.
- Tanka Tumble: A series of linked tanka poems, creating a flowing narrative.
- Dramatic Monologue: A poem in which a character speaks directly to an audience, revealing their thoughts and emotions.
2024.05.02 09:56 adulting4kids More Types of Poems
- Terza Rima: A poetic form consisting of tercets (three-line stanzas) with interwoven rhymes, often used by Dante in "The Divine Comedy."
- Clerihew: A humorous and whimsical poem of four lines, with irregular meter and rhymes, focusing on a person, often the poet.
- Triolet: An eight-line poem with a specific rhyme scheme (ABaAabAB), featuring repeated lines.
- Ballad: A narrative poem often set to music, telling a story with a strong rhythm and rhyme.
- Renga: A collaborative form of Japanese linked-verse poetry, typically composed by multiple poets in alternating stanzas.
- Senryu: Similar to haiku, but focuses on human nature and emotions rather than nature itself.
- Paradelle: A complex and rare form of poetry that repeats lines with variations, creating a challenging structure.
- Golden Shovel: A form where each word in a line of an existing poem is used as the end word in a line of the new poem.
- Haibun: A combination of prose and haiku, often describing a journey or a nature experience.
- Villancico: A medieval Spanish poetic form often used in songs and carols, characterized by repetition and refrains.
- Palindrome Poetry: A poem that reads the same backward as forward, creating a mirrored effect.
- Blackout Poetry: Creating poetry by selectively redacting or highlighting words from an existing text, often creating a visual element.
- Tetractys: A five-line poem with a syllable count of 1, 2, 3, 4, 10, creating a pyramid shape.
- Rubaiyat: A Persian form of poetry with quatrains, typically written in iambic pentameter with the rhyme scheme AABA.
- Fibonacci Poem: A poem following the Fibonacci sequence for syllable counts in each line (0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, etc.).
- Calligram: A visual poem in which the words or letters are arranged in a shape that reflects the poem's subject.
- Shape Poetry: Poems that take on a visual shape related to their subject, enhancing the overall meaning.
- Tanka Prose: A prose poem followed by a tanka, combining the concise nature of prose with the emotional depth of tanka.
- Found Poetry: Creating poetry from existing texts or found materials, rearranging and recontextualizing words.
- Blitz Poem: A form of poetry with a rapid, stream-of-consciousness style, using repetition and wordplay.
- Sevenling: A seven-line poem with specific guidelines, including three lines with three elements, and a concluding statement in one line.
- Pantun: A Malay poetic form with quatrains, featuring an interlocking rhyme scheme between stanzas.
- Cento: A collage-like poem composed entirely of lines from other poems.
- Cinquain Chain: Connecting multiple cinquains to create a longer poem or narrative.
- Rhyme Royal: A seven-line stanza with a specific rhyme scheme (ABABBCC), used by Geoffrey Chaucer.
- Haiga: A combination of haiku and visual art, where an image complements the haiku.
- Minute Poem: A strict 60-syllable poem with a 8-4-4-4 structure and specific rhyme scheme (aabb).
- Nonet: A nine-line poem with a descending syllable count in each line, often 9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1.
- Tanka Tumble: A series of linked tanka poems, creating a flowing narrative.
- Dramatic Monologue: A poem in which a character speaks directly to an audience, revealing their thoughts and emotions.
2024.04.29 17:59 Mynaa-Miesnowan Commencement (Time strained, constrained, and constraining - is a Bridge đ)
To what's left of you quarter, piece, and part powerful gentlemen and to the appearance of an extreme degree powerful âwomenâ of this penny parade continent, this five and dime celebration, this dollar store revelation, this world-wide cultural instantiation and its jubilation, from factories in Fiji, to factories in China, to the world itself as if a great, round, roving, marvelous factory to print colored bits of paper and tin cans, shells and bombs to burst in midair â confetti for every beach and ocean in this ever-expanding tidal future of ours!
It is nearby somewhere my own hunger urged me from mine and your wilds alike, and in the emergence of a lucidity from the depths of yon trash heap (and my longstanding work therein), which predates not just my meeting you, and its tending endlessly to your children, but every and all conception of me for eternity and more; I came to you and allowed you to mistake yourself for me, as there was no mistaking me for you - for what's left of life in your eyes reveals to me what you know that you both know, and don't know, you need, what you can only ever imagine is lost or out there to be found or bought in your world, what has been conditioned into you so as to preclude seeing and especially the strength of ânot seeing,â and it is with every momentarily wakeful glance you give in my direction, every question you hear, every call answered, that ensures me all is not forsaken despite the ceaseless attempt on âallâs lifeâ to the contrary, a tryer of the reigns finds reigns, a fisher finds fish â in the depths of this land, and what clings to it on all fringes and fronts, fits you as your highest metaphor of a cultureâs soul: a prisonerâs home for a lost vagabond, the destitute, overdosing on richness, dressed nicely if in the most poorly-fitting and disheveled clothing, as when a child too small tries to don the clothes (i.e., attitude, appearance, nature, purpose) of his absent father â he was looking into a future, and now he is this âfuture,â much less a âfutureâ anyone would desire, utterly abandoned in hope, deed, action, and almost word, but for everything effeminately subtle and indirect, one thing is said, another is done, and no value may be found in the schizoid feeding frenzy to the tune of perhaps the most psychotic ruling herdsman type who have ever had the unfortunate chance (for every living creature) to love at all, but as anyone here only ever understands such things on meticulous spreadsheets of numbers that can never add up (Remember 2008? Whoops!), as if a sort of simulation of life, or in many cases, simulation of a simulation, of life, or something resembling some sort of denizen of some sort of strange landâs strange life, or similarly, a home that canât house anyone at all, is only understood in familiar commercials where, a large volume of words, images, and bright colors are lauded and leveraged as a subliminal jackhammer, and of course, the less they mean, the less bearing, therefor reminder of and on reality, the better, so long as one message is clear (desire - what is missing and sought? How to twist the knife into the lonely and afraid?); I can state without undue excess and absolutely zero excitement, that the vault is empty, the account reads zero, rather, your vault is empty, and zero would be an improvement, for its implication would be that of an animal who, having a glance in the mirror, has had a profound and terrible revelation, not the ghost and mummy and living skeleton, the standing ruins that stand and stare back, but, had instead, possibly relearned to create beyond itself, or unlearned, to take pride in everything it IS, and to feel longing and despair and especially contempt for everything that it ISNâT; not a goal, or a destination, and yet would be a road as if so? Feign one more pointless yet needy life, lived as long as possible, forever taking more than can ever give, in service of the greatest number of pebbles and papers, and for itself, its own little day? When is this day? No, let us not see beyond the day â things are too good, your future is already in the water, donât let anything, least of all yourselves, stand in the way.
Yet it wasn't for any of this I was glad or sad, as the tepid radiations and hopeful evacuations of a life on the wondrously vapid factory clone farm are often quite touching, and at times, seem to reveal the confessions of a beautiful animal, or the image of what once was, now reminiscing on their own or someone elseâs golden years, some creature lost to winter everlasting, and astonishingly absent and completely unaccounted in a strange game of 'the most numbers' (as if creating for an audience, what you know as consumer groups and shrubbery, that doesnât even exist, at least previously, without even realizing it) - once more, let us congratulate this species on its wildest success - it is rare that anyone changes anything, such as, even the most minor character of nature, culture, and being, let alone channeling, cultivating, and hobbling an entire species' psychic domain, with a success not unlike Malaria (and its nature), be it with prescription methamphetamine or the other panoply of assorted multi-colored poisonous candies and treats, largely advertised in yellow and red, like warning signs one finds on a deadly viper, you know (they really catch the eye), and though the medicalization of the future, a sort of savaging by the greatest of shorts never even conceived, but like a carcass that is just there, waiting for the bloated and their bloated feast, because as wisdom will teach anyone who lives long enough, success with or without awareness, as with all success, is classified as Victory under the great auspices of Nike, of which Nemesis never fails to find conscious or unconscious compensation. Thatâs the thing about the âunconsciousâ â the unknown is most feared, but just because it is unknown, does not mean it is wrong, unreal, or ânot there,â nor does it make it chaos, merely, beyond you, before you, after you, your aftermath â to quote a wise woman, âfunny that, humans can be ruins too, and that ruins can stand so long!â - and with these digressions aside, all these matters of which I speak need not in fact be recorded by anyone (even me), it is merely sufficient that they occur. Things are revealed, and those beings who are being revealed to, are helpless, but TO BE revealed to. Whether they see or understand what they are seeing, at all, is another matter. What emerges canât not emerge, what is revealed, canât not be revealed, or not witnessed. Like flowers and bees (and spiders) â the world is beautiful and many-legged, bites and stings and sometimes even smells nice.
For, to attempt to comprehend - what it means, for life to mean nothing? It would mean to truly understand this precipice â that, for time itself, mankind itself, ceases to exist, or have any reason, meaning, purpose, or even justification - but that is not our numbered and enumerating way, for, as a nation of decadent accountants, as nation of creditors and debtors even to oneâs own family and friends, a nation of strangers and government agents who are primarily bound by their need to sell products and services in plebian, repeated, undifferentiated-as possible-like fashion, all of whom have many guns, are coerced by many guns, under auspices of those guised as âthe educatedâ even, it is the number here that matters most, and nothing else, but it was seeing the real nature of that number, and to what it applies (and how the code is woven through data to reveal all the ugly facts of life) that has us clapping ourselves on the back, or at each otherâs throat, both of which are great opportunities for enterprising individuals, for, in a country and culture of mercenaries and prostitutes, the accountant who promises the most, wins, which is to say that the worldâs oldest profession has taught all great and small American alike, how much the world, a family, a son, a daughter is worth: nothing. Love has no monetary value, happiness, contentment, the fact that a human being is born is complete, has no value, and if you market to them while they are bewildered, frightened, and alone, coming as they are from a culture conditioned to be sick farm animals, vacuous watchers and consumers and food and sacrifice and disposable animal, then oneâs success is eventually guaranteed â and it is this sort of flagrant and glamorous prostitutions and illustrious illusions that has dominated our culture, to allow the most mediocre types to not just attempt to inherit the world, but to continue to assume that they are entitled to it, and to entreat themselves to all therein as if disposable possession, an entire world, increasingly filled with this singular, totalizing, delusion. Sadly, it is this sort of brainless extroversion, and disease, that dominates and continues to pass as leadership in what is already a totally medicalized, encapsulated, and strait-jacketed culture.
Which is really humorous, when you know then the term âbusiness leaderâ is an oxymoron, and unfitting. After all, a pimp and a butcher do not have followers of loyalty or even duty, they donât own minds or hearts, they own a line to the bank and paying bills â they have animals employed under pressure, under duress, under the knife, performance, art, feeding the hungry and the needy. The sort of deprecating and depredating effects one finds in such miasma and gore are what is known in the slammer as prisoner conditionsânot just immediate depression that conduces to deep, dark, dreamless sleep â and not just that animals in captivity will act out violently as a matter of vital Will and its need to prove to itself, that it is indeed alive in some capacity, but to race to the bottom of the behavioral sink. But everything comes and goes, so it is that which went down the drain has washed back up on our shores, like dumping and leaking perchloroethylene and trichloroethylene, which, as deadly solvents seep directly to the bottom of the groundwater table, some things are just like that â an avalanche â unstoppable, indelible, ineffable, unstoppable, inevitability as it is â fate weaving itself, the basilisks of the new dawn cawing, and then their coming home to roost â leaving the question, who or what was this all for? The state, the herd, and the people are indeed âone,â even if many. Fascism with a good conscience, is to say, civilization is for the survivors, the good, the moral, and the just; and every judge, jury, and executioner agrees, especially when they elicit the confession from the condemned, all of which is fortunate and convenient for the survivors (cowards), so long as one takes their place in the orgy and circle-jerk chain of pity (which is all pity for self, projected outward as cover) of which, all the strangers with guns agree as well, yet despite all these plain as fact appearances, behaviors, and communications that anyone can see, read, and almost even understand, I know others donât yet know or share my excitement at proposals of an updated and appropriate lexicon, and it is here that we visit terminology that is apt for a soulless, blood-sucking age that would rather see man as docile sheep, than become anything different, more, abd superior.
So it is, henceforth, all those conspicuously inconspicuous nobodies who always hunger more than they can Will - you are not known as the âthe managerial elite,â but the âMalarial Elite.â Not the âbusiness class,â but the âboring class.â Not the âpolitical class,â but the âparasitic class.â Not the âleaders of tomorrow,â but the âpillagers of yesteryear.â After all, who would want health - when sickness is so profitable? Rather, how could the healthy even bother with the sick, how could they understand them? The entire medical professionâs creed, to this day, is âplease donât bother us,â as, everyone needs their papers. Yes, while even Dr. Frankenstein and his murdering monster appear naĂŻve and juvenile compared to the sort of psychos who run most wards and hospitals, not to mention any of its direct connection to the state, this is the nature of miasma, no one could choke through it even if they wanted, - so who could ever stand on the shoulders of giants or titans, when the entire country from top to bottom, can only beg, borrow or steal from around the ankles? And the need is locked in â slavery, the most wealth and power ever created in the history of the world, wasted on a dying, decrepit ruling class of pseudo-human being who sound and appear as if they couldnât have a genuine thought or feeling in their bodies, even if needed to prevent a nervous breakdown, even if needed to mitigate the breakdown of an entire civilization, or imminent death and war around the globe.
And this is perhaps the most astoundingly marvelous thing about a long-extricated, tortured-out diffusive chain of irresponsibility â the one who conceives of the bottom, the lowering of the bar, is not the same as the one who enacts it, is not the same as the one who installs it, is not the same as the one who tills it, is not the same as the one who owns it, all of which beleighs the truth that, most everyone is happy to disappear, they are happy that so little is ever asked or expected, that nobody remembers their name, or asks more. Yes, aloneness, and dangerous aloneness therein is the only real condition, but so it is for everyone. You see, take heart, youâre not alone here. It was only illusion. One or many, many or one â youâre the same thing, desire, create, act and enact the same thing â like addict and supplier, and thatâs how and why you have built precisely what it is you have built - and the isolation also serves a purpose â as it makes your domination precipitously convenient (a civilization of people taught to be helpless, passive, watchers and consumers, and bad actors for bottomless pits of crowds at that). People are easy to manipulate, coerce, and control, when alone. The solution that knows how to answer for all problems- as both Socrates and the rapacious, long-annoying American salesmen, marketers, and spammers of all inboxes humanly known, know â you look for the self-conscious weakness, and then you twist the knife as insidiously and compellingly as sublimely [terrible and frightful yet divine distance between desire and reality] possible. Imagine doing this to an entire lower class â like raising rabbits for disposal and harvest.
And while our most acrimonious of orders is, pertaining to the supposedly beloved objects of oneâs and oneâs cultureâs desires, first to try to masticate it, if not, fornicate with it, if not, buy and sell it with the purpose of others enacting the former and/or the latter behaviors upon it, it strikes me that even the larger, stunningly clueless population is beginning to scratch their heads as they watch time stand still in perpetuity, rather, as they watch time leak, fume, and die, to their detriment, on their dime (they pay for it), which, if youâre wondering why is an alarm to you and them, is because this is not what they were promised, and, that first Boston Tea Party is a simpleton's joke compared to the tyranny that rules happily and without remorse today. And so it is, what is being witnessed, interpreted, spun, and sold, is not what they are being promised right now (they see the very opposite in fact â reality, right under their nose, and they can even almost âread itâ), and as with right now, Victory demands compensation, and it isnât just coming, it is already here. Oh no, the best is yet to come, you assure me? Iâll agree, but only because it is in my language and on my terms, and you have no idea what that means.
Even then, despite my great love for this land and some of its most rare and valuable individuals (because the rest is corporate, i.e., state-sanctioned, wasteland), despite knowing all of you far, far, far too well, I am left with no pity in common with you, and if youâve been reading the stars and the wind and the times (it stands still, slow enough to read for even the illiterate, in some regards, after all), you know then that you have all but nickeled and dimed away everyone elseâs pity too, and those left parroting the party line are dead already without knowing it, fail to see they are alone, the target, the victim, the product, as well â but thereâs hardly an accountant alive who can cook these books, even a Jew, or maybe someone from the Chinese Communist Party, of which, our own leadership shares beds, and a future as insect-overlords of a placated, wasted, dying populace of a poisoned land.
Yes, our way of life is incidental, a waterwheel in the river of misery for most that is called human biology â so nobody can help themselves against their own (intentionally) weakened and morbid Will and better interest, for instance, the people who once lived here were helpless to crave the steel and alcohol Spanish merchants advertised â and once this poisoned stream had traveled for centuries, found its way into my mouth and after a lifetime of ripping it out, to see what is beyond it, a life-time of sickness and its convalescence, exactly as everyone here intentionally and unintentionally designed, and with perspective on asylums and institutions from both deep inside and far beyond their walls (these are funny conceptual and imaginary designations, walls, barriers, doors, etc.), inside or outside of it, it is fear and hatred and pain â and a recirculation of dollars and pity, with its requisite shame, sympathies, and pities. The price for playing the game? Your eternal soul? No, that was marketing, so you didnât notice your body was being used, abused, and consumed, by little camouflage predators who have the appearance of âordinaryâ human-beings (now its sublimated into the market, god being dead and all), but, alas, are not Apex, but incidental, happenstance, a laugh, a gas, mediocrity given its day since the real predators are medicated, surrounded, and killed off, and ultimately, as ape is to man, this homo sapien is to a better humanity of present and into the future â a (blind) laughing stock. An emperor and empire with no clothes at all. Just as neanderthal did not understand why homo sapien laughed at him, homo sapien doesnât know how bad the joke is, and the exacting ways in which he and she are the joke (yes, presuming entitlement, and to be the goal, and what's to be preserved).
Even as I have watched, and continue to watch, the most basic and mediocre types of animals reach majority, in all human arenas, whose vanitous parents, teachers, and policemen, all profiting, even forming a way of life, based on their own absence in these future âderelictsâ lives, starting in their most vulnerable precatory age, of their own wisdom, persuaded them, having generally only paper or medications to offer, in manners not dissimilar to business in Italian mafia or other gangland activity, to become physicians, psychiatrists, lawyers, sociologists, and even justice-fighters, or freedom fighters (at least on TV, or social media) for an entire society that was conditioned to be ineffectual, hapless, resentful dependents, a dollar farm, a low-wage servant class, buckets of frozen fish consumer voting blocks to market sickness to, tossed to the dust and wind as fertilizer for future pennies, all vegetating on an American-factory-farm-scale organized lunatic asylum, or, as is well known, the streets, and other similar institutions such as prisons and schools, whom all get their French fries from the same governmentally relevant contracted organization, aka business, aka American business, aka corporation, aka, the State as nation, and the state of its affairs â an entire population missing in action, on vacation, tending tiny, totalized, cog-size gardens and planting for their own promised day alone, or sick on the job, owned as it were, by the people who own the entire country, and in some sense, the world, with our closest business partners, in both industry, and way of life, being the Chinese State, of which all Americans should be horrified.
âall of which conduces towards a feeling, or, thought of tremendous weight and burden, which is to say, what can anyone expect in a land where one doesnât have friends and neighbors or even a husband or wife, but predatory yet desperately needy and dependent associates (nothing is more depraved than businessmen in rut, when they see only paper dollars with starry, religious-eyed zeal), all of whom can, do, and will continue to charge each other by the minute, to get the most out of every serviceable transaction they can name for a surcharge, or convenience fee, or tax, or service fee, of which, the original stamp act which was one of many matchsticks that helped founded this country, is a farce and a joke compared to the sort of brigands, actors, and ugly celebrity that is our body politics â a society where brutal taxation and its repression is culture, is the way of life, occasionally exemplified by âkill dozersâ or small business owners flying their small airplanes into local tax offices (see Texas), of which we can say, the genius of America wasnât a recreation of the old slave pyramid, at least two or three times in a row, as merit turned to money, that is gold, which turned to paper, which turned to non-existent ones and zeroes, nor is the genius the ever-present image and its parading and campaigning of forgettable faces and non-existent personalities and all its pretense of the removal of what sadly passes for aristocracy these days â the genius of America was to monetize every part of the body, every aspect of culture and life, to scrape the human being down to the bone, not of any human value, not of any real value that they themselves feel or want to represent in the actual world, in any remotely authentic, sincere, and even needed manner, but strictly: monetary value. There is no value outside paper money zero and ones values. Which is to say, the modern human soul is a worthless copper penny stretched between the crude, well-armed yet hapless Europeans of America, those eroded basalt Pillars of the West, and the equally hollow and vacuous Chinese Communist Part of the East, whatever facsimiles are left from their origins derived â between the two, like the upper and lower clamps of a vice grip, humanity are a great mass of herd animal, ready to be flambĂ©ed, roasted, crispen and woolied, ready to be turned into garment, and dinner, and pointless, disposable sacrifice (for the people that own them, but not for gods, greater purpose, men, or connection to the Earth and environment).
And how much value may be derived from this worthless penny? When the game is the bait and switch, it is never enough. And then how much can you charge for the sickness you create? Each layer of skin is a few cents more, and every American businessman, who becomes wealthy, knows that every penny adds up, because for most American business men, when it is, was, or becomes their time to rob anyone and everyone blind, we see the American for what they are (an empty, pitiless, stomach, no brain) and the most powerful nation in the history of the world â which proves, not just how blind great power is, but also states, the more one wants, the more one must debase oneâs self, thus the entire human future, had to be sold out to satiate the money printers - where lavish expense in both cheap thrills and their curtailing, are incurred, inflicted, endured, yet loved with Barnum and Bailey advertising appeal of a culture that canât decide whether it wants to be most pitiless master or most pitiful slave, prude or whore, noble Paladin or gutless Brigand â a nation not of refined or even rudimentary taste in appearance, behavior, and communication, but of tawdry delight and intoxication, angry politics, fear, and hate, not two minutes, but 24/7 â the assailing and travailing of the world against the senses, against reason, against purpose, against humanity, and harder will it become still. Not just against better, superior senses, but all senses, but that is nonsense for you, and as with yesteryear, today, nonsense rules â the lack of sense, the utter lack of reality. And when itâs clear, when you can quote a man, speaking of a past that hasnât happened yet, who once said, âeven if this country had been twice as big, it still wouldnât be enough,â and, âthe love of possessions is a disease in themâ - What can you then truly say to a nation of dependents and liars all suffering under the same physiological sicknesses, whose condition is to admit, buy, sell, or permit everything, except for the Truth, and by design? Cowardice, that is generally called, âhealthy fearâ? And, the straightforward truth? The simple Truth? All of which precludes the complex, take lifetimes-of-vigorous-activity-to-understand-and painfully destructive-to-swallow-Truth? This isnât s dog and pony show nation, it is a dollar-leash nation. And where reason and logic fail, passion prevails, therefor, a poem to end, in your honor:
Your life, on a leash, how much can you pay? Therapy, credit, lease no money down today
Your life, on a leash, it isnât worth a thing
Humans have no value, but for the pennies
They might bring, but them alone, isnât enough,
Together, a few bucks, but none are left Thatâs right, not a dime for you or for your kids
Sell it all before the fall, retirement commune called âto liveâ When nothing to give, but everything with a price No tomorrow, donât think twice, wondering why
There's no ovation to your ending, fearful but
Just pretending â for, behind all that is corporate nice
Are strangers with guns, aplenty at small price
But the cost is wrought, you broke it, you bought
If youâre so smart, how come you aint rich?
One shouldnât ask such clueless questions
In cultureâs nihilistic pitch â few flown
To the top of the roost of the coup
When one is oh so unconcerned,
Rich, and hidden without a peep
This dollar harvest continent
Then demonstrates, by all such
Empty imagistic reprobates
What was sown was
salted stupid, to be easy
then well reaped
Buy and sell an empty shell
shooting fish in a bucket
Or herding sheep
But this sickness
It lingers
Trade coins
For every
Finger
squeeze
And lie
you
Paid
The
true
Price
That youâre nice
That you deserve it
That you can actually afford it
Selling dependence as codependence
the people are stupid and so deserve it
But your dull, dusty harvest, you made it, is here
I donât know how you tolerate it through the smell
that anyone would be appalled
scrawled floor, ceiling, wall, stinking worms can't stumble, only crawl
Or how people will live through the coming years
of ever-worse, ever-harder, all-consuming and producing horrid fears
A sold-out nation of no rank and station, a parasite full of parasites
Not providence, but lots of guns and hatred
Of course would make so much noise, itâs simply what you can get away with
when men are all absent, resented, and hated - but this is the price for your fascist consumer statist corporate paradise of low-rent, low-class dread and vapid, empty, paper-money doll pretty, petty pointless penny-talking heads
***After it was written, this poem was titled - âSqueeze [the fun out of it]â
submitted by Mynaa-Miesnowan to Year2984 [link] [comments]
It is nearby somewhere my own hunger urged me from mine and your wilds alike, and in the emergence of a lucidity from the depths of yon trash heap (and my longstanding work therein), which predates not just my meeting you, and its tending endlessly to your children, but every and all conception of me for eternity and more; I came to you and allowed you to mistake yourself for me, as there was no mistaking me for you - for what's left of life in your eyes reveals to me what you know that you both know, and don't know, you need, what you can only ever imagine is lost or out there to be found or bought in your world, what has been conditioned into you so as to preclude seeing and especially the strength of ânot seeing,â and it is with every momentarily wakeful glance you give in my direction, every question you hear, every call answered, that ensures me all is not forsaken despite the ceaseless attempt on âallâs lifeâ to the contrary, a tryer of the reigns finds reigns, a fisher finds fish â in the depths of this land, and what clings to it on all fringes and fronts, fits you as your highest metaphor of a cultureâs soul: a prisonerâs home for a lost vagabond, the destitute, overdosing on richness, dressed nicely if in the most poorly-fitting and disheveled clothing, as when a child too small tries to don the clothes (i.e., attitude, appearance, nature, purpose) of his absent father â he was looking into a future, and now he is this âfuture,â much less a âfutureâ anyone would desire, utterly abandoned in hope, deed, action, and almost word, but for everything effeminately subtle and indirect, one thing is said, another is done, and no value may be found in the schizoid feeding frenzy to the tune of perhaps the most psychotic ruling herdsman type who have ever had the unfortunate chance (for every living creature) to love at all, but as anyone here only ever understands such things on meticulous spreadsheets of numbers that can never add up (Remember 2008? Whoops!), as if a sort of simulation of life, or in many cases, simulation of a simulation, of life, or something resembling some sort of denizen of some sort of strange landâs strange life, or similarly, a home that canât house anyone at all, is only understood in familiar commercials where, a large volume of words, images, and bright colors are lauded and leveraged as a subliminal jackhammer, and of course, the less they mean, the less bearing, therefor reminder of and on reality, the better, so long as one message is clear (desire - what is missing and sought? How to twist the knife into the lonely and afraid?); I can state without undue excess and absolutely zero excitement, that the vault is empty, the account reads zero, rather, your vault is empty, and zero would be an improvement, for its implication would be that of an animal who, having a glance in the mirror, has had a profound and terrible revelation, not the ghost and mummy and living skeleton, the standing ruins that stand and stare back, but, had instead, possibly relearned to create beyond itself, or unlearned, to take pride in everything it IS, and to feel longing and despair and especially contempt for everything that it ISNâT; not a goal, or a destination, and yet would be a road as if so? Feign one more pointless yet needy life, lived as long as possible, forever taking more than can ever give, in service of the greatest number of pebbles and papers, and for itself, its own little day? When is this day? No, let us not see beyond the day â things are too good, your future is already in the water, donât let anything, least of all yourselves, stand in the way.
Yet it wasn't for any of this I was glad or sad, as the tepid radiations and hopeful evacuations of a life on the wondrously vapid factory clone farm are often quite touching, and at times, seem to reveal the confessions of a beautiful animal, or the image of what once was, now reminiscing on their own or someone elseâs golden years, some creature lost to winter everlasting, and astonishingly absent and completely unaccounted in a strange game of 'the most numbers' (as if creating for an audience, what you know as consumer groups and shrubbery, that doesnât even exist, at least previously, without even realizing it) - once more, let us congratulate this species on its wildest success - it is rare that anyone changes anything, such as, even the most minor character of nature, culture, and being, let alone channeling, cultivating, and hobbling an entire species' psychic domain, with a success not unlike Malaria (and its nature), be it with prescription methamphetamine or the other panoply of assorted multi-colored poisonous candies and treats, largely advertised in yellow and red, like warning signs one finds on a deadly viper, you know (they really catch the eye), and though the medicalization of the future, a sort of savaging by the greatest of shorts never even conceived, but like a carcass that is just there, waiting for the bloated and their bloated feast, because as wisdom will teach anyone who lives long enough, success with or without awareness, as with all success, is classified as Victory under the great auspices of Nike, of which Nemesis never fails to find conscious or unconscious compensation. Thatâs the thing about the âunconsciousâ â the unknown is most feared, but just because it is unknown, does not mean it is wrong, unreal, or ânot there,â nor does it make it chaos, merely, beyond you, before you, after you, your aftermath â to quote a wise woman, âfunny that, humans can be ruins too, and that ruins can stand so long!â - and with these digressions aside, all these matters of which I speak need not in fact be recorded by anyone (even me), it is merely sufficient that they occur. Things are revealed, and those beings who are being revealed to, are helpless, but TO BE revealed to. Whether they see or understand what they are seeing, at all, is another matter. What emerges canât not emerge, what is revealed, canât not be revealed, or not witnessed. Like flowers and bees (and spiders) â the world is beautiful and many-legged, bites and stings and sometimes even smells nice.
For, to attempt to comprehend - what it means, for life to mean nothing? It would mean to truly understand this precipice â that, for time itself, mankind itself, ceases to exist, or have any reason, meaning, purpose, or even justification - but that is not our numbered and enumerating way, for, as a nation of decadent accountants, as nation of creditors and debtors even to oneâs own family and friends, a nation of strangers and government agents who are primarily bound by their need to sell products and services in plebian, repeated, undifferentiated-as possible-like fashion, all of whom have many guns, are coerced by many guns, under auspices of those guised as âthe educatedâ even, it is the number here that matters most, and nothing else, but it was seeing the real nature of that number, and to what it applies (and how the code is woven through data to reveal all the ugly facts of life) that has us clapping ourselves on the back, or at each otherâs throat, both of which are great opportunities for enterprising individuals, for, in a country and culture of mercenaries and prostitutes, the accountant who promises the most, wins, which is to say that the worldâs oldest profession has taught all great and small American alike, how much the world, a family, a son, a daughter is worth: nothing. Love has no monetary value, happiness, contentment, the fact that a human being is born is complete, has no value, and if you market to them while they are bewildered, frightened, and alone, coming as they are from a culture conditioned to be sick farm animals, vacuous watchers and consumers and food and sacrifice and disposable animal, then oneâs success is eventually guaranteed â and it is this sort of flagrant and glamorous prostitutions and illustrious illusions that has dominated our culture, to allow the most mediocre types to not just attempt to inherit the world, but to continue to assume that they are entitled to it, and to entreat themselves to all therein as if disposable possession, an entire world, increasingly filled with this singular, totalizing, delusion. Sadly, it is this sort of brainless extroversion, and disease, that dominates and continues to pass as leadership in what is already a totally medicalized, encapsulated, and strait-jacketed culture.
Which is really humorous, when you know then the term âbusiness leaderâ is an oxymoron, and unfitting. After all, a pimp and a butcher do not have followers of loyalty or even duty, they donât own minds or hearts, they own a line to the bank and paying bills â they have animals employed under pressure, under duress, under the knife, performance, art, feeding the hungry and the needy. The sort of deprecating and depredating effects one finds in such miasma and gore are what is known in the slammer as prisoner conditionsânot just immediate depression that conduces to deep, dark, dreamless sleep â and not just that animals in captivity will act out violently as a matter of vital Will and its need to prove to itself, that it is indeed alive in some capacity, but to race to the bottom of the behavioral sink. But everything comes and goes, so it is that which went down the drain has washed back up on our shores, like dumping and leaking perchloroethylene and trichloroethylene, which, as deadly solvents seep directly to the bottom of the groundwater table, some things are just like that â an avalanche â unstoppable, indelible, ineffable, unstoppable, inevitability as it is â fate weaving itself, the basilisks of the new dawn cawing, and then their coming home to roost â leaving the question, who or what was this all for? The state, the herd, and the people are indeed âone,â even if many. Fascism with a good conscience, is to say, civilization is for the survivors, the good, the moral, and the just; and every judge, jury, and executioner agrees, especially when they elicit the confession from the condemned, all of which is fortunate and convenient for the survivors (cowards), so long as one takes their place in the orgy and circle-jerk chain of pity (which is all pity for self, projected outward as cover) of which, all the strangers with guns agree as well, yet despite all these plain as fact appearances, behaviors, and communications that anyone can see, read, and almost even understand, I know others donât yet know or share my excitement at proposals of an updated and appropriate lexicon, and it is here that we visit terminology that is apt for a soulless, blood-sucking age that would rather see man as docile sheep, than become anything different, more, abd superior.
So it is, henceforth, all those conspicuously inconspicuous nobodies who always hunger more than they can Will - you are not known as the âthe managerial elite,â but the âMalarial Elite.â Not the âbusiness class,â but the âboring class.â Not the âpolitical class,â but the âparasitic class.â Not the âleaders of tomorrow,â but the âpillagers of yesteryear.â After all, who would want health - when sickness is so profitable? Rather, how could the healthy even bother with the sick, how could they understand them? The entire medical professionâs creed, to this day, is âplease donât bother us,â as, everyone needs their papers. Yes, while even Dr. Frankenstein and his murdering monster appear naĂŻve and juvenile compared to the sort of psychos who run most wards and hospitals, not to mention any of its direct connection to the state, this is the nature of miasma, no one could choke through it even if they wanted, - so who could ever stand on the shoulders of giants or titans, when the entire country from top to bottom, can only beg, borrow or steal from around the ankles? And the need is locked in â slavery, the most wealth and power ever created in the history of the world, wasted on a dying, decrepit ruling class of pseudo-human being who sound and appear as if they couldnât have a genuine thought or feeling in their bodies, even if needed to prevent a nervous breakdown, even if needed to mitigate the breakdown of an entire civilization, or imminent death and war around the globe.
And this is perhaps the most astoundingly marvelous thing about a long-extricated, tortured-out diffusive chain of irresponsibility â the one who conceives of the bottom, the lowering of the bar, is not the same as the one who enacts it, is not the same as the one who installs it, is not the same as the one who tills it, is not the same as the one who owns it, all of which beleighs the truth that, most everyone is happy to disappear, they are happy that so little is ever asked or expected, that nobody remembers their name, or asks more. Yes, aloneness, and dangerous aloneness therein is the only real condition, but so it is for everyone. You see, take heart, youâre not alone here. It was only illusion. One or many, many or one â youâre the same thing, desire, create, act and enact the same thing â like addict and supplier, and thatâs how and why you have built precisely what it is you have built - and the isolation also serves a purpose â as it makes your domination precipitously convenient (a civilization of people taught to be helpless, passive, watchers and consumers, and bad actors for bottomless pits of crowds at that). People are easy to manipulate, coerce, and control, when alone. The solution that knows how to answer for all problems- as both Socrates and the rapacious, long-annoying American salesmen, marketers, and spammers of all inboxes humanly known, know â you look for the self-conscious weakness, and then you twist the knife as insidiously and compellingly as sublimely [terrible and frightful yet divine distance between desire and reality] possible. Imagine doing this to an entire lower class â like raising rabbits for disposal and harvest.
And while our most acrimonious of orders is, pertaining to the supposedly beloved objects of oneâs and oneâs cultureâs desires, first to try to masticate it, if not, fornicate with it, if not, buy and sell it with the purpose of others enacting the former and/or the latter behaviors upon it, it strikes me that even the larger, stunningly clueless population is beginning to scratch their heads as they watch time stand still in perpetuity, rather, as they watch time leak, fume, and die, to their detriment, on their dime (they pay for it), which, if youâre wondering why is an alarm to you and them, is because this is not what they were promised, and, that first Boston Tea Party is a simpleton's joke compared to the tyranny that rules happily and without remorse today. And so it is, what is being witnessed, interpreted, spun, and sold, is not what they are being promised right now (they see the very opposite in fact â reality, right under their nose, and they can even almost âread itâ), and as with right now, Victory demands compensation, and it isnât just coming, it is already here. Oh no, the best is yet to come, you assure me? Iâll agree, but only because it is in my language and on my terms, and you have no idea what that means.
Even then, despite my great love for this land and some of its most rare and valuable individuals (because the rest is corporate, i.e., state-sanctioned, wasteland), despite knowing all of you far, far, far too well, I am left with no pity in common with you, and if youâve been reading the stars and the wind and the times (it stands still, slow enough to read for even the illiterate, in some regards, after all), you know then that you have all but nickeled and dimed away everyone elseâs pity too, and those left parroting the party line are dead already without knowing it, fail to see they are alone, the target, the victim, the product, as well â but thereâs hardly an accountant alive who can cook these books, even a Jew, or maybe someone from the Chinese Communist Party, of which, our own leadership shares beds, and a future as insect-overlords of a placated, wasted, dying populace of a poisoned land.
Yes, our way of life is incidental, a waterwheel in the river of misery for most that is called human biology â so nobody can help themselves against their own (intentionally) weakened and morbid Will and better interest, for instance, the people who once lived here were helpless to crave the steel and alcohol Spanish merchants advertised â and once this poisoned stream had traveled for centuries, found its way into my mouth and after a lifetime of ripping it out, to see what is beyond it, a life-time of sickness and its convalescence, exactly as everyone here intentionally and unintentionally designed, and with perspective on asylums and institutions from both deep inside and far beyond their walls (these are funny conceptual and imaginary designations, walls, barriers, doors, etc.), inside or outside of it, it is fear and hatred and pain â and a recirculation of dollars and pity, with its requisite shame, sympathies, and pities. The price for playing the game? Your eternal soul? No, that was marketing, so you didnât notice your body was being used, abused, and consumed, by little camouflage predators who have the appearance of âordinaryâ human-beings (now its sublimated into the market, god being dead and all), but, alas, are not Apex, but incidental, happenstance, a laugh, a gas, mediocrity given its day since the real predators are medicated, surrounded, and killed off, and ultimately, as ape is to man, this homo sapien is to a better humanity of present and into the future â a (blind) laughing stock. An emperor and empire with no clothes at all. Just as neanderthal did not understand why homo sapien laughed at him, homo sapien doesnât know how bad the joke is, and the exacting ways in which he and she are the joke (yes, presuming entitlement, and to be the goal, and what's to be preserved).
Even as I have watched, and continue to watch, the most basic and mediocre types of animals reach majority, in all human arenas, whose vanitous parents, teachers, and policemen, all profiting, even forming a way of life, based on their own absence in these future âderelictsâ lives, starting in their most vulnerable precatory age, of their own wisdom, persuaded them, having generally only paper or medications to offer, in manners not dissimilar to business in Italian mafia or other gangland activity, to become physicians, psychiatrists, lawyers, sociologists, and even justice-fighters, or freedom fighters (at least on TV, or social media) for an entire society that was conditioned to be ineffectual, hapless, resentful dependents, a dollar farm, a low-wage servant class, buckets of frozen fish consumer voting blocks to market sickness to, tossed to the dust and wind as fertilizer for future pennies, all vegetating on an American-factory-farm-scale organized lunatic asylum, or, as is well known, the streets, and other similar institutions such as prisons and schools, whom all get their French fries from the same governmentally relevant contracted organization, aka business, aka American business, aka corporation, aka, the State as nation, and the state of its affairs â an entire population missing in action, on vacation, tending tiny, totalized, cog-size gardens and planting for their own promised day alone, or sick on the job, owned as it were, by the people who own the entire country, and in some sense, the world, with our closest business partners, in both industry, and way of life, being the Chinese State, of which all Americans should be horrified.
âall of which conduces towards a feeling, or, thought of tremendous weight and burden, which is to say, what can anyone expect in a land where one doesnât have friends and neighbors or even a husband or wife, but predatory yet desperately needy and dependent associates (nothing is more depraved than businessmen in rut, when they see only paper dollars with starry, religious-eyed zeal), all of whom can, do, and will continue to charge each other by the minute, to get the most out of every serviceable transaction they can name for a surcharge, or convenience fee, or tax, or service fee, of which, the original stamp act which was one of many matchsticks that helped founded this country, is a farce and a joke compared to the sort of brigands, actors, and ugly celebrity that is our body politics â a society where brutal taxation and its repression is culture, is the way of life, occasionally exemplified by âkill dozersâ or small business owners flying their small airplanes into local tax offices (see Texas), of which we can say, the genius of America wasnât a recreation of the old slave pyramid, at least two or three times in a row, as merit turned to money, that is gold, which turned to paper, which turned to non-existent ones and zeroes, nor is the genius the ever-present image and its parading and campaigning of forgettable faces and non-existent personalities and all its pretense of the removal of what sadly passes for aristocracy these days â the genius of America was to monetize every part of the body, every aspect of culture and life, to scrape the human being down to the bone, not of any human value, not of any real value that they themselves feel or want to represent in the actual world, in any remotely authentic, sincere, and even needed manner, but strictly: monetary value. There is no value outside paper money zero and ones values. Which is to say, the modern human soul is a worthless copper penny stretched between the crude, well-armed yet hapless Europeans of America, those eroded basalt Pillars of the West, and the equally hollow and vacuous Chinese Communist Part of the East, whatever facsimiles are left from their origins derived â between the two, like the upper and lower clamps of a vice grip, humanity are a great mass of herd animal, ready to be flambĂ©ed, roasted, crispen and woolied, ready to be turned into garment, and dinner, and pointless, disposable sacrifice (for the people that own them, but not for gods, greater purpose, men, or connection to the Earth and environment).
And how much value may be derived from this worthless penny? When the game is the bait and switch, it is never enough. And then how much can you charge for the sickness you create? Each layer of skin is a few cents more, and every American businessman, who becomes wealthy, knows that every penny adds up, because for most American business men, when it is, was, or becomes their time to rob anyone and everyone blind, we see the American for what they are (an empty, pitiless, stomach, no brain) and the most powerful nation in the history of the world â which proves, not just how blind great power is, but also states, the more one wants, the more one must debase oneâs self, thus the entire human future, had to be sold out to satiate the money printers - where lavish expense in both cheap thrills and their curtailing, are incurred, inflicted, endured, yet loved with Barnum and Bailey advertising appeal of a culture that canât decide whether it wants to be most pitiless master or most pitiful slave, prude or whore, noble Paladin or gutless Brigand â a nation not of refined or even rudimentary taste in appearance, behavior, and communication, but of tawdry delight and intoxication, angry politics, fear, and hate, not two minutes, but 24/7 â the assailing and travailing of the world against the senses, against reason, against purpose, against humanity, and harder will it become still. Not just against better, superior senses, but all senses, but that is nonsense for you, and as with yesteryear, today, nonsense rules â the lack of sense, the utter lack of reality. And when itâs clear, when you can quote a man, speaking of a past that hasnât happened yet, who once said, âeven if this country had been twice as big, it still wouldnât be enough,â and, âthe love of possessions is a disease in themâ - What can you then truly say to a nation of dependents and liars all suffering under the same physiological sicknesses, whose condition is to admit, buy, sell, or permit everything, except for the Truth, and by design? Cowardice, that is generally called, âhealthy fearâ? And, the straightforward truth? The simple Truth? All of which precludes the complex, take lifetimes-of-vigorous-activity-to-understand-and painfully destructive-to-swallow-Truth? This isnât s dog and pony show nation, it is a dollar-leash nation. And where reason and logic fail, passion prevails, therefor, a poem to end, in your honor:
Your life, on a leash, how much can you pay? Therapy, credit, lease no money down today
Your life, on a leash, it isnât worth a thing
Humans have no value, but for the pennies
They might bring, but them alone, isnât enough,
Together, a few bucks, but none are left Thatâs right, not a dime for you or for your kids
Sell it all before the fall, retirement commune called âto liveâ When nothing to give, but everything with a price No tomorrow, donât think twice, wondering why
There's no ovation to your ending, fearful but
Just pretending â for, behind all that is corporate nice
Are strangers with guns, aplenty at small price
But the cost is wrought, you broke it, you bought
If youâre so smart, how come you aint rich?
One shouldnât ask such clueless questions
In cultureâs nihilistic pitch â few flown
To the top of the roost of the coup
When one is oh so unconcerned,
Rich, and hidden without a peep
This dollar harvest continent
Then demonstrates, by all such
Empty imagistic reprobates
What was sown was
salted stupid, to be easy
then well reaped
Buy and sell an empty shell
shooting fish in a bucket
Or herding sheep
But this sickness
It lingers
Trade coins
For every
Finger
squeeze
And lie
you
Paid
The
true
Price
That youâre nice
That you deserve it
That you can actually afford it
Selling dependence as codependence
the people are stupid and so deserve it
But your dull, dusty harvest, you made it, is here
I donât know how you tolerate it through the smell
that anyone would be appalled
scrawled floor, ceiling, wall, stinking worms can't stumble, only crawl
Or how people will live through the coming years
of ever-worse, ever-harder, all-consuming and producing horrid fears
A sold-out nation of no rank and station, a parasite full of parasites
Not providence, but lots of guns and hatred
Of course would make so much noise, itâs simply what you can get away with
when men are all absent, resented, and hated - but this is the price for your fascist consumer statist corporate paradise of low-rent, low-class dread and vapid, empty, paper-money doll pretty, petty pointless penny-talking heads
***After it was written, this poem was titled - âSqueeze [the fun out of it]â
2024.04.25 09:56 adulting4kids More Types of Poems
- Terza Rima: A poetic form consisting of tercets (three-line stanzas) with interwoven rhymes, often used by Dante in "The Divine Comedy."
- Clerihew: A humorous and whimsical poem of four lines, with irregular meter and rhymes, focusing on a person, often the poet.
- Triolet: An eight-line poem with a specific rhyme scheme (ABaAabAB), featuring repeated lines.
- Ballad: A narrative poem often set to music, telling a story with a strong rhythm and rhyme.
- Renga: A collaborative form of Japanese linked-verse poetry, typically composed by multiple poets in alternating stanzas.
- Senryu: Similar to haiku, but focuses on human nature and emotions rather than nature itself.
- Paradelle: A complex and rare form of poetry that repeats lines with variations, creating a challenging structure.
- Golden Shovel: A form where each word in a line of an existing poem is used as the end word in a line of the new poem.
- Haibun: A combination of prose and haiku, often describing a journey or a nature experience.
- Villancico: A medieval Spanish poetic form often used in songs and carols, characterized by repetition and refrains.
- Palindrome Poetry: A poem that reads the same backward as forward, creating a mirrored effect.
- Blackout Poetry: Creating poetry by selectively redacting or highlighting words from an existing text, often creating a visual element.
- Tetractys: A five-line poem with a syllable count of 1, 2, 3, 4, 10, creating a pyramid shape.
- Rubaiyat: A Persian form of poetry with quatrains, typically written in iambic pentameter with the rhyme scheme AABA.
- Fibonacci Poem: A poem following the Fibonacci sequence for syllable counts in each line (0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, etc.).
- Calligram: A visual poem in which the words or letters are arranged in a shape that reflects the poem's subject.
- Shape Poetry: Poems that take on a visual shape related to their subject, enhancing the overall meaning.
- Tanka Prose: A prose poem followed by a tanka, combining the concise nature of prose with the emotional depth of tanka.
- Found Poetry: Creating poetry from existing texts or found materials, rearranging and recontextualizing words.
- Blitz Poem: A form of poetry with a rapid, stream-of-consciousness style, using repetition and wordplay.
- Sevenling: A seven-line poem with specific guidelines, including three lines with three elements, and a concluding statement in one line.
- Pantun: A Malay poetic form with quatrains, featuring an interlocking rhyme scheme between stanzas.
- Cento: A collage-like poem composed entirely of lines from other poems.
- Cinquain Chain: Connecting multiple cinquains to create a longer poem or narrative.
- Rhyme Royal: A seven-line stanza with a specific rhyme scheme (ABABBCC), used by Geoffrey Chaucer.
- Haiga: A combination of haiku and visual art, where an image complements the haiku.
- Minute Poem: A strict 60-syllable poem with a 8-4-4-4 structure and specific rhyme scheme (aabb).
- Nonet: A nine-line poem with a descending syllable count in each line, often 9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1.
- Tanka Tumble: A series of linked tanka poems, creating a flowing narrative.
- Dramatic Monologue: A poem in which a character speaks directly to an audience, revealing their thoughts and emotions.
2024.04.19 20:42 Anne_Scythe4444 World Environmental Strategy Opinion/Discussion:
/semi-humorous motivational-rant/speech:
"Here's How It All Works Out"
Imagine an upside-down pyramid. Label the bottom "people", the top left corner "government", the top right corner "business".
Government has a job to do: protecting the status quo.
Business has a job to do: selling the people whatever they want, within the law.
People have a job to do: determining the status quo and buying and voting accordingly.
When it comes to environment-destruction-caused-by-legal-overpollution-caused-by-legal-overconsumption-of-legal-overpolluting-resources:
The government has an excuse: they're protecting the status quo by allowing it to continue
The businesses have an excuse: they're selling people whatever they want, within the law
The people have no excuse: it is their job to determine the status quo. What they say goes. Business and government responds to them. If the people stop buying it, the businesses fold and the government protects the people. If the people buy something legal, the government protects both the businesses and the people over it. If the people vote for something, the government protects the people over it.
Etcetera.
The government, and the businesses, will never listen to a minority of people who say they want to take away the rest of people's actively exercised right to buy things that they want, not overall.
Party-politics allows any one party to only go so far in terms of entertaining whims of partisans, and we've gone that far. We got the IRA, the best possible start any environmental movement could fairly get in the United States. It won't go further than that, from the government. And no, businesses won't stop selling oil just because they held a COP about it. And the environment won't hurl a lightning bolt at you to stop you from melting Antarctica in half.
That means the big challenge that we all know is coming is coming.
We have to convince all the people of the world including ourselves to voluntarily boycott all significant planet-harming activities, and we have to make sure it's going to stay that way, and we need to come up with the mechanisms for doing this, and we need to run the play. Those who care must convince the others. There's ways of doing this. Let's discuss it.
I see one major way of doing it: convincing
With two sub-ways of doing it: truth and reasoning
I see two major ways of doing that: through religion and through non-religion, because we're talking about the entire world, and while there are many countries there are two trends of people: religious and non-religious. Please read through what I post next in order:
Here's a copy of a conversation I started on an atheism forum:
"The Miracle of Life, from a Christian perspective
first, consider it from an atheist's perspective:
no life elsewhere, no God above
life here a cosmic accident
there are supposed to be aliens out there
where are they? we haven't found any
as far as we know, we are the only aliens
there's one planet with life itself on it: Earth
why it would happen here?
pure chance, pure accident, no creator
the elements mixing together
in unrivaled freak accident
Behold, The MIRACLE
the MIRACLE, the planet Earth
where life itself was born
cosmic creation of the elements
"the elements that got up and walked"
life itself took form here
it is the only planet with life on it
it is THE MIRACLE; all of Life itself is contained here; all of it was born here
this is the birth place of life itself
if by cosmic accident this is the most _______ish, most ___________est (pick your words)
thing that has ever happened, ever, in the cosmos
to any atheist, this would be the supreme miracle of their world
that life itself happened here, out of an atheistic universe
Isn't it?
to the religious, too, it is a miracle
though one they're familiar with
"God created the heavens, and so... "
And, so on! ... everything taken care of...
Is it not?"
(The sub thought I was attempting to convert them to Christianity on the spot, with a little poem). After much arguing with me about this, here's a comment I made back to the sub, clarifying:
"The point is: it's a conversation starter about how seriously we should all take environmentalism, giving one great reason for any atheist and one great reason for any religious person. The post was intended to confuse the two topics, as if apparently I myself was confused, to get you all to pounce all over me, which you did, and tear me this way and that sort of, thinking I was telling you to be religious. I wasn't. What I was saying was, and I'll start over now that you get it:
This is about Environmentalism.
There's two kinds of people on this planet; therefore there's two kinds of people who need to be convinced to take Environmentalism more seriously: both of them (there's religious people and there's non-religious people, when it comes to Planet Earth).
People do things well when they're convinced of a good reason to be doing it.
Reasonings: (Best reasonings I can come up with for both parties, at all, possible:)
Non-religious people: Probability is statistics; you have to have something you can count- no one's ever found or seen an alien- and yes, we are certain of this, if you're a roswell/maybe-the-government-has-aliens believer (it's all been debunked, all of it). Nobody has ever seen an alien on or from planet Earth. If there were intelligent life with thumbs out there, it probably would do things similar enough: it would make itself, unintentionally, a sort of obvious beacon in outer space: it would emit radio signals for example after making the same physics discoveries (we can assume physics are the same wherever you are). very old civilizations would have larger examples of this. ya know seti never found anything either? the "wow" signal was inconclusive. that's it; there was no sky full of alien beacons. Now, we can deduce at times whether a far-away planet has methane in the atmosphere, but there's a chance that that doesn't mean life. It might mean life. You can't confirm that through a telescope. We might be right around the corner from discovering basic animal life with some of our missions. The Mars rock with the worm-like things I think was inconclusive actually? But we're going to a moon in our solar system that could potentially have life... Anyway we haven't gone yet. Today you can say this, relevant to environmentalism: as far as any atheist has proof of, it is the greatest crime ever conceived of to do anything to damage all at once the fragile ecosystem of this, the only place in the Universe that has ever been discovered to have life on it. It's a crime with proportions that are at present mutliplied by the entirety of the Universe: there's only one rock with life on it, as far as we know, out of all the Universe's rocks (planets)???? Well, that's how big the crime is. You're damaging the only place with life on it. The crime of doing that is Universe-sized.
Reasonings for religious people: (Ahem) I believe I'm pretty sure that you believe as stated that GOD created this, the ONLY planet in all of time and reality with any life on it at all, and that this all was just as a special treat for you, proudest of all of God's creations, that you, would inherit this all, and, by default, act as its shepherd? Have you upheld such bargain and is God pissed or will be? I heard God has Hell in wait for those who displease?"
The above show my whole position on something like a basic reasoning system that comes out equal on convincing both the religious and the non-religious, using "the stick". I think these are the two most compelling reasons to hold any atheist or any religious person to, because, at times, the stick speaks louder than the carrot to us all.
However, more often, the carrot motivates, because, we like it that way. We'd prefer to do something we want for something we want, not to avoid something we don't want. Although, when you put it that way, isn't it equal philosophically? Isn't avoiding something you don't want just as cheery as obtaining something you want? I don't care, but I'd rather give them two reasons, for redundancy: stick and carrot.
The carrot goes like this:
Atheist: Don't you want a beautiful world?
Religious: Don't you want to go to heaven?
And can be combined as follows: wouldn't both of you like and want a heaven-like world?
Starting there, you have your orders. March.
The disbelievers must get convinced. Be religious about it. This is a religious movement: nothing is more religious than saving the world; I don't care what you believe in. When people talk vaguely of (whatever their myth is): forget that. There's this. There's saving the world in 2024, as an Earth-human.
All of us share a tradition that goes back 13,000 years: the building of stone and the writing of writing.
It is because we have thumbs and it is because we have vocal cords that we are different from the animals. Otherwise we're animals. Same brains. Same eyes.
We have the unique gift of communication and of construction. Therefore it is to us to organize and to enact. We are the shepherds of this planet. I don't care what you heard; throw that book away. This is now and this is true. Observe these comments, are they not wrong?
What we did with our thumbs and with our vocal cords: we tested science until it was right and then we told our others about it.
Now we have things like space shuttles that work, computers that work, and climate/pollution analyses that are not wrong.
Look at the fools who pick one over the other, and say "I believe in the existence of the space shuttle, I know that this computer works, and I think that the science is wrong on global warming!"
Creatures of comfort! For the space shuttle brings them pleasure to know about and the computer brings them pleasure to use and the environment brings them great displeasure because they would have to give up their gas-powered car today and they're not even personally on fire yet from overheating! So, eager to repel the effort, they accuse the science there of being wrong! Well, let the space shuttle come crashing down from the sky (two of them did- not because of the magic of those who naysayed the shuttle program, as this person would have the climate movement naysayed), and let this very computer that they are working on come crashing to a halt right underneath their fingers (but it is for the efficacy of science likely that it doesn't), but nay, their climate-movement feelings are wrong.
It is wrong to say let us forestall the climate movement or allow the continuance of our ways.
But don't take my word for it, and let them not suffer mine either. Take the science to them, right to them.
The next effort is, after you've understood the rest:
Do you, personally, understand the science of it, and can you explain it off the top of your head?
Here's a sample effort at doing that:
Most people aren't scientists, don't care for it, don't need to know about it. That's fine. What little they get told informs them thereafter. They hear, we breathe oxygen and spit out co2? Great, they probably think air means: 50% oxygen, 50% co2. Ultimate way to take their pants off without them knowing? Just tell them that the air's only 1% co2 anyway. All this fuss is over going from 1% to 2%. Fastest way to make any one of them turn off the "climate news".
Here's how it really works: air is mostly stuffing actually, we don't use most of it. Air is mostly nitrogen, about 70%. What's the nitrogen for? nothing. Nothing uses it. It's just stuffing. It's fair to say "air is nitrogen", that's how much nitrogen is in it.
About 20% of air is oxygen, that's the part that we use. But it's only about 20% of it! You don't need much oxygen. To breathe, you mix a little bit of oxygen (you only need a little at a time), with a bunch of just stuffing basically, and then you pressurize it, because you exist at pressure. Now you have your special air-breathing-mix-product. Yes, you breathe out co2- but there's not much of that in the air. The remaining 10% of air is random different gases. Like 1% (I'm making very broad generalizations by the way to make this easy to memorize) like 1% of the air is co2, and a little bit of the air is methane (like .5% let's say?). Okay so why all this fuss about co2 and methane, if really the air is like 70% nitrogen, 20% oxygen, and then of a remaining 10%, the air is like 8.5% random gases, .5% methane, 1% co2?
Because, and I'm going to make an analogy very similar to the one about your breathing, wherein just a little bit of oxygen in the air does all the feeding of your cells that you need:
The thing about the air is, most of the gases in it don't really trap heat. In fact, only a few of them trap heat well: co2 and methane for example (and suflyr flouryl or something they use in termite spraying? I just learned about this one but the main two are still co2 and methane). Co2 traps heat well because it has carbon in it. You know what carbon is, right? Gather enough of it together and it's black stuff that traps heat real well in the sun. Separate it out enough and it's a transparent gas that does the same thing still; the carbon absorbs infrared light from the sun and gets hot. Methane and the other greenhouse gases do the same thing I guess, but I think the above example works well enough for co2. You can help refine this section if you can think of ways to explain it better; we all need to have "the story straight" when it comes to explaining this to others.
So, the reason a little bit of gas that traps heat well is a problem is that that's the only gas in the air at all that traps heat, relatively. You shine a light through the air and it gets hot? That's only cause of the 1.5% of gases in it that trap heat at all. You remove those and the air would go cold. You double those and theoretically the air would go twice as hot. Now, it's not quite like that, actually, not by a longshot even. It's more like: you remove those and the air goes a little colder; the rest of it does trap heat a little, just not as much as certain gases. You double those gases, and the air traps heat a little more, cause it's still a small amount of gas we're talking about in there. Anyway, we have like doubled the co2 already (Keeling Curve is the name of the graph/study: should be like 200-260ppm we're at like 420+. I'm trying to write this all off the top of my head as an example, because you need to be able to do at least as much in conversation), and the temperature is climbing, and the co2 we're adding and the temperature climbing are like identical rises graphically; we're raising the temperature, mostly by burning fossil fuels constantly.
It makes sense if you think of what you're not seeing when you use cars. All that fire is contained under the hood and then filtered by the system, such that exhaust looks clear.
But you know what a fire looks like, gasoline or otherwise. When there's an open fire in your town, the smoke column reaches up into the heavens all day and is visible.
Well, that's what traffic "looks like", and you just don't see it. Imagine if every car-fire (the fire in the engine under your hood) was visible? Just cars with like open barbeque fires in the front sections, driving around, with big black columns of smoke rising up from each all day? All the highways of the world would look like solid black smoke columns all day long.
Well, that is how they look. Sorta. You just have to use your mind to see it. Ha. Okay now,
Look at the Earth sideways real good. What I mean by that is, look at one of those satellite-going-over-the-horizon photos that show you just how thin you can get Earth's atmosphere to look, at night. That's how thin it is. You know what I mean? You're used to thinking of the sky as voluminous, but if you get up high enough, you can see that Earth just has a little bitty bit of sky attached to it at all, just like a fingernail of air; there's barely any air there actually it's very thin.
So, you put those two together (you know what all-day fires look like and you know what the actual thinness of Earth's atmosphere looks like from space) well, you can just see it: we really can and really have f---ed with it. There wasn't that much to begin with and we filled it with exhaust since a hundred years ago. There's not many humans covering the Earth? Okay but look at those spots where there are humans- each one of those has been emitting a constant fire 24/7-
Okay? Now I see great things for us: look at us, the ants who learned how to seize control of the entire thing, proving control of it so far only by screwing it up: our great act of proving ourselves to be in control of the planet so far has only been in terms of us showing our f---ing-it-up ability: we got the air to turn bad a little.
Now, let's show our second great act of geo-control. Let's undo that that we just did. The second act. Once we demonstrate that we will have demonstrated control of this planet. I set this challenge before all of us.
submitted by Anne_Scythe4444 to solarpunk [link] [comments]
"Here's How It All Works Out"
Imagine an upside-down pyramid. Label the bottom "people", the top left corner "government", the top right corner "business".
Government has a job to do: protecting the status quo.
Business has a job to do: selling the people whatever they want, within the law.
People have a job to do: determining the status quo and buying and voting accordingly.
When it comes to environment-destruction-caused-by-legal-overpollution-caused-by-legal-overconsumption-of-legal-overpolluting-resources:
The government has an excuse: they're protecting the status quo by allowing it to continue
The businesses have an excuse: they're selling people whatever they want, within the law
The people have no excuse: it is their job to determine the status quo. What they say goes. Business and government responds to them. If the people stop buying it, the businesses fold and the government protects the people. If the people buy something legal, the government protects both the businesses and the people over it. If the people vote for something, the government protects the people over it.
Etcetera.
The government, and the businesses, will never listen to a minority of people who say they want to take away the rest of people's actively exercised right to buy things that they want, not overall.
Party-politics allows any one party to only go so far in terms of entertaining whims of partisans, and we've gone that far. We got the IRA, the best possible start any environmental movement could fairly get in the United States. It won't go further than that, from the government. And no, businesses won't stop selling oil just because they held a COP about it. And the environment won't hurl a lightning bolt at you to stop you from melting Antarctica in half.
That means the big challenge that we all know is coming is coming.
We have to convince all the people of the world including ourselves to voluntarily boycott all significant planet-harming activities, and we have to make sure it's going to stay that way, and we need to come up with the mechanisms for doing this, and we need to run the play. Those who care must convince the others. There's ways of doing this. Let's discuss it.
I see one major way of doing it: convincing
With two sub-ways of doing it: truth and reasoning
I see two major ways of doing that: through religion and through non-religion, because we're talking about the entire world, and while there are many countries there are two trends of people: religious and non-religious. Please read through what I post next in order:
Here's a copy of a conversation I started on an atheism forum:
"The Miracle of Life, from a Christian perspective
first, consider it from an atheist's perspective:
no life elsewhere, no God above
life here a cosmic accident
there are supposed to be aliens out there
where are they? we haven't found any
as far as we know, we are the only aliens
there's one planet with life itself on it: Earth
why it would happen here?
pure chance, pure accident, no creator
the elements mixing together
in unrivaled freak accident
Behold, The MIRACLE
the MIRACLE, the planet Earth
where life itself was born
cosmic creation of the elements
"the elements that got up and walked"
life itself took form here
it is the only planet with life on it
it is THE MIRACLE; all of Life itself is contained here; all of it was born here
this is the birth place of life itself
if by cosmic accident this is the most _______ish, most ___________est (pick your words)
thing that has ever happened, ever, in the cosmos
to any atheist, this would be the supreme miracle of their world
that life itself happened here, out of an atheistic universe
Isn't it?
to the religious, too, it is a miracle
though one they're familiar with
"God created the heavens, and so... "
And, so on! ... everything taken care of...
Is it not?"
(The sub thought I was attempting to convert them to Christianity on the spot, with a little poem). After much arguing with me about this, here's a comment I made back to the sub, clarifying:
"The point is: it's a conversation starter about how seriously we should all take environmentalism, giving one great reason for any atheist and one great reason for any religious person. The post was intended to confuse the two topics, as if apparently I myself was confused, to get you all to pounce all over me, which you did, and tear me this way and that sort of, thinking I was telling you to be religious. I wasn't. What I was saying was, and I'll start over now that you get it:
This is about Environmentalism.
There's two kinds of people on this planet; therefore there's two kinds of people who need to be convinced to take Environmentalism more seriously: both of them (there's religious people and there's non-religious people, when it comes to Planet Earth).
People do things well when they're convinced of a good reason to be doing it.
Reasonings: (Best reasonings I can come up with for both parties, at all, possible:)
Non-religious people: Probability is statistics; you have to have something you can count- no one's ever found or seen an alien- and yes, we are certain of this, if you're a roswell/maybe-the-government-has-aliens believer (it's all been debunked, all of it). Nobody has ever seen an alien on or from planet Earth. If there were intelligent life with thumbs out there, it probably would do things similar enough: it would make itself, unintentionally, a sort of obvious beacon in outer space: it would emit radio signals for example after making the same physics discoveries (we can assume physics are the same wherever you are). very old civilizations would have larger examples of this. ya know seti never found anything either? the "wow" signal was inconclusive. that's it; there was no sky full of alien beacons. Now, we can deduce at times whether a far-away planet has methane in the atmosphere, but there's a chance that that doesn't mean life. It might mean life. You can't confirm that through a telescope. We might be right around the corner from discovering basic animal life with some of our missions. The Mars rock with the worm-like things I think was inconclusive actually? But we're going to a moon in our solar system that could potentially have life... Anyway we haven't gone yet. Today you can say this, relevant to environmentalism: as far as any atheist has proof of, it is the greatest crime ever conceived of to do anything to damage all at once the fragile ecosystem of this, the only place in the Universe that has ever been discovered to have life on it. It's a crime with proportions that are at present mutliplied by the entirety of the Universe: there's only one rock with life on it, as far as we know, out of all the Universe's rocks (planets)???? Well, that's how big the crime is. You're damaging the only place with life on it. The crime of doing that is Universe-sized.
Reasonings for religious people: (Ahem) I believe I'm pretty sure that you believe as stated that GOD created this, the ONLY planet in all of time and reality with any life on it at all, and that this all was just as a special treat for you, proudest of all of God's creations, that you, would inherit this all, and, by default, act as its shepherd? Have you upheld such bargain and is God pissed or will be? I heard God has Hell in wait for those who displease?"
The above show my whole position on something like a basic reasoning system that comes out equal on convincing both the religious and the non-religious, using "the stick". I think these are the two most compelling reasons to hold any atheist or any religious person to, because, at times, the stick speaks louder than the carrot to us all.
However, more often, the carrot motivates, because, we like it that way. We'd prefer to do something we want for something we want, not to avoid something we don't want. Although, when you put it that way, isn't it equal philosophically? Isn't avoiding something you don't want just as cheery as obtaining something you want? I don't care, but I'd rather give them two reasons, for redundancy: stick and carrot.
The carrot goes like this:
Atheist: Don't you want a beautiful world?
Religious: Don't you want to go to heaven?
And can be combined as follows: wouldn't both of you like and want a heaven-like world?
Starting there, you have your orders. March.
The disbelievers must get convinced. Be religious about it. This is a religious movement: nothing is more religious than saving the world; I don't care what you believe in. When people talk vaguely of (whatever their myth is): forget that. There's this. There's saving the world in 2024, as an Earth-human.
All of us share a tradition that goes back 13,000 years: the building of stone and the writing of writing.
It is because we have thumbs and it is because we have vocal cords that we are different from the animals. Otherwise we're animals. Same brains. Same eyes.
We have the unique gift of communication and of construction. Therefore it is to us to organize and to enact. We are the shepherds of this planet. I don't care what you heard; throw that book away. This is now and this is true. Observe these comments, are they not wrong?
What we did with our thumbs and with our vocal cords: we tested science until it was right and then we told our others about it.
Now we have things like space shuttles that work, computers that work, and climate/pollution analyses that are not wrong.
Look at the fools who pick one over the other, and say "I believe in the existence of the space shuttle, I know that this computer works, and I think that the science is wrong on global warming!"
Creatures of comfort! For the space shuttle brings them pleasure to know about and the computer brings them pleasure to use and the environment brings them great displeasure because they would have to give up their gas-powered car today and they're not even personally on fire yet from overheating! So, eager to repel the effort, they accuse the science there of being wrong! Well, let the space shuttle come crashing down from the sky (two of them did- not because of the magic of those who naysayed the shuttle program, as this person would have the climate movement naysayed), and let this very computer that they are working on come crashing to a halt right underneath their fingers (but it is for the efficacy of science likely that it doesn't), but nay, their climate-movement feelings are wrong.
It is wrong to say let us forestall the climate movement or allow the continuance of our ways.
But don't take my word for it, and let them not suffer mine either. Take the science to them, right to them.
The next effort is, after you've understood the rest:
Do you, personally, understand the science of it, and can you explain it off the top of your head?
Here's a sample effort at doing that:
Most people aren't scientists, don't care for it, don't need to know about it. That's fine. What little they get told informs them thereafter. They hear, we breathe oxygen and spit out co2? Great, they probably think air means: 50% oxygen, 50% co2. Ultimate way to take their pants off without them knowing? Just tell them that the air's only 1% co2 anyway. All this fuss is over going from 1% to 2%. Fastest way to make any one of them turn off the "climate news".
Here's how it really works: air is mostly stuffing actually, we don't use most of it. Air is mostly nitrogen, about 70%. What's the nitrogen for? nothing. Nothing uses it. It's just stuffing. It's fair to say "air is nitrogen", that's how much nitrogen is in it.
About 20% of air is oxygen, that's the part that we use. But it's only about 20% of it! You don't need much oxygen. To breathe, you mix a little bit of oxygen (you only need a little at a time), with a bunch of just stuffing basically, and then you pressurize it, because you exist at pressure. Now you have your special air-breathing-mix-product. Yes, you breathe out co2- but there's not much of that in the air. The remaining 10% of air is random different gases. Like 1% (I'm making very broad generalizations by the way to make this easy to memorize) like 1% of the air is co2, and a little bit of the air is methane (like .5% let's say?). Okay so why all this fuss about co2 and methane, if really the air is like 70% nitrogen, 20% oxygen, and then of a remaining 10%, the air is like 8.5% random gases, .5% methane, 1% co2?
Because, and I'm going to make an analogy very similar to the one about your breathing, wherein just a little bit of oxygen in the air does all the feeding of your cells that you need:
The thing about the air is, most of the gases in it don't really trap heat. In fact, only a few of them trap heat well: co2 and methane for example (and suflyr flouryl or something they use in termite spraying? I just learned about this one but the main two are still co2 and methane). Co2 traps heat well because it has carbon in it. You know what carbon is, right? Gather enough of it together and it's black stuff that traps heat real well in the sun. Separate it out enough and it's a transparent gas that does the same thing still; the carbon absorbs infrared light from the sun and gets hot. Methane and the other greenhouse gases do the same thing I guess, but I think the above example works well enough for co2. You can help refine this section if you can think of ways to explain it better; we all need to have "the story straight" when it comes to explaining this to others.
So, the reason a little bit of gas that traps heat well is a problem is that that's the only gas in the air at all that traps heat, relatively. You shine a light through the air and it gets hot? That's only cause of the 1.5% of gases in it that trap heat at all. You remove those and the air would go cold. You double those and theoretically the air would go twice as hot. Now, it's not quite like that, actually, not by a longshot even. It's more like: you remove those and the air goes a little colder; the rest of it does trap heat a little, just not as much as certain gases. You double those gases, and the air traps heat a little more, cause it's still a small amount of gas we're talking about in there. Anyway, we have like doubled the co2 already (Keeling Curve is the name of the graph/study: should be like 200-260ppm we're at like 420+. I'm trying to write this all off the top of my head as an example, because you need to be able to do at least as much in conversation), and the temperature is climbing, and the co2 we're adding and the temperature climbing are like identical rises graphically; we're raising the temperature, mostly by burning fossil fuels constantly.
It makes sense if you think of what you're not seeing when you use cars. All that fire is contained under the hood and then filtered by the system, such that exhaust looks clear.
But you know what a fire looks like, gasoline or otherwise. When there's an open fire in your town, the smoke column reaches up into the heavens all day and is visible.
Well, that's what traffic "looks like", and you just don't see it. Imagine if every car-fire (the fire in the engine under your hood) was visible? Just cars with like open barbeque fires in the front sections, driving around, with big black columns of smoke rising up from each all day? All the highways of the world would look like solid black smoke columns all day long.
Well, that is how they look. Sorta. You just have to use your mind to see it. Ha. Okay now,
Look at the Earth sideways real good. What I mean by that is, look at one of those satellite-going-over-the-horizon photos that show you just how thin you can get Earth's atmosphere to look, at night. That's how thin it is. You know what I mean? You're used to thinking of the sky as voluminous, but if you get up high enough, you can see that Earth just has a little bitty bit of sky attached to it at all, just like a fingernail of air; there's barely any air there actually it's very thin.
So, you put those two together (you know what all-day fires look like and you know what the actual thinness of Earth's atmosphere looks like from space) well, you can just see it: we really can and really have f---ed with it. There wasn't that much to begin with and we filled it with exhaust since a hundred years ago. There's not many humans covering the Earth? Okay but look at those spots where there are humans- each one of those has been emitting a constant fire 24/7-
Okay? Now I see great things for us: look at us, the ants who learned how to seize control of the entire thing, proving control of it so far only by screwing it up: our great act of proving ourselves to be in control of the planet so far has only been in terms of us showing our f---ing-it-up ability: we got the air to turn bad a little.
Now, let's show our second great act of geo-control. Let's undo that that we just did. The second act. Once we demonstrate that we will have demonstrated control of this planet. I set this challenge before all of us.
2024.04.18 09:56 adulting4kids More Types of Poems
- Terza Rima: A poetic form consisting of tercets (three-line stanzas) with interwoven rhymes, often used by Dante in "The Divine Comedy."
- Clerihew: A humorous and whimsical poem of four lines, with irregular meter and rhymes, focusing on a person, often the poet.
- Triolet: An eight-line poem with a specific rhyme scheme (ABaAabAB), featuring repeated lines.
- Ballad: A narrative poem often set to music, telling a story with a strong rhythm and rhyme.
- Renga: A collaborative form of Japanese linked-verse poetry, typically composed by multiple poets in alternating stanzas.
- Senryu: Similar to haiku, but focuses on human nature and emotions rather than nature itself.
- Paradelle: A complex and rare form of poetry that repeats lines with variations, creating a challenging structure.
- Golden Shovel: A form where each word in a line of an existing poem is used as the end word in a line of the new poem.
- Haibun: A combination of prose and haiku, often describing a journey or a nature experience.
- Villancico: A medieval Spanish poetic form often used in songs and carols, characterized by repetition and refrains.
- Palindrome Poetry: A poem that reads the same backward as forward, creating a mirrored effect.
- Blackout Poetry: Creating poetry by selectively redacting or highlighting words from an existing text, often creating a visual element.
- Tetractys: A five-line poem with a syllable count of 1, 2, 3, 4, 10, creating a pyramid shape.
- Rubaiyat: A Persian form of poetry with quatrains, typically written in iambic pentameter with the rhyme scheme AABA.
- Fibonacci Poem: A poem following the Fibonacci sequence for syllable counts in each line (0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, etc.).
- Calligram: A visual poem in which the words or letters are arranged in a shape that reflects the poem's subject.
- Shape Poetry: Poems that take on a visual shape related to their subject, enhancing the overall meaning.
- Tanka Prose: A prose poem followed by a tanka, combining the concise nature of prose with the emotional depth of tanka.
- Found Poetry: Creating poetry from existing texts or found materials, rearranging and recontextualizing words.
- Blitz Poem: A form of poetry with a rapid, stream-of-consciousness style, using repetition and wordplay.
- Sevenling: A seven-line poem with specific guidelines, including three lines with three elements, and a concluding statement in one line.
- Pantun: A Malay poetic form with quatrains, featuring an interlocking rhyme scheme between stanzas.
- Cento: A collage-like poem composed entirely of lines from other poems.
- Cinquain Chain: Connecting multiple cinquains to create a longer poem or narrative.
- Rhyme Royal: A seven-line stanza with a specific rhyme scheme (ABABBCC), used by Geoffrey Chaucer.
- Haiga: A combination of haiku and visual art, where an image complements the haiku.
- Minute Poem: A strict 60-syllable poem with a 8-4-4-4 structure and specific rhyme scheme (aabb).
- Nonet: A nine-line poem with a descending syllable count in each line, often 9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1.
- Tanka Tumble: A series of linked tanka poems, creating a flowing narrative.
- Dramatic Monologue: A poem in which a character speaks directly to an audience, revealing their thoughts and emotions.
2024.04.11 09:56 adulting4kids More Types of Poems
- Terza Rima: A poetic form consisting of tercets (three-line stanzas) with interwoven rhymes, often used by Dante in "The Divine Comedy."
- Clerihew: A humorous and whimsical poem of four lines, with irregular meter and rhymes, focusing on a person, often the poet.
- Triolet: An eight-line poem with a specific rhyme scheme (ABaAabAB), featuring repeated lines.
- Ballad: A narrative poem often set to music, telling a story with a strong rhythm and rhyme.
- Renga: A collaborative form of Japanese linked-verse poetry, typically composed by multiple poets in alternating stanzas.
- Senryu: Similar to haiku, but focuses on human nature and emotions rather than nature itself.
- Paradelle: A complex and rare form of poetry that repeats lines with variations, creating a challenging structure.
- Golden Shovel: A form where each word in a line of an existing poem is used as the end word in a line of the new poem.
- Haibun: A combination of prose and haiku, often describing a journey or a nature experience.
- Villancico: A medieval Spanish poetic form often used in songs and carols, characterized by repetition and refrains.
- Palindrome Poetry: A poem that reads the same backward as forward, creating a mirrored effect.
- Blackout Poetry: Creating poetry by selectively redacting or highlighting words from an existing text, often creating a visual element.
- Tetractys: A five-line poem with a syllable count of 1, 2, 3, 4, 10, creating a pyramid shape.
- Rubaiyat: A Persian form of poetry with quatrains, typically written in iambic pentameter with the rhyme scheme AABA.
- Fibonacci Poem: A poem following the Fibonacci sequence for syllable counts in each line (0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, etc.).
- Calligram: A visual poem in which the words or letters are arranged in a shape that reflects the poem's subject.
- Shape Poetry: Poems that take on a visual shape related to their subject, enhancing the overall meaning.
- Tanka Prose: A prose poem followed by a tanka, combining the concise nature of prose with the emotional depth of tanka.
- Found Poetry: Creating poetry from existing texts or found materials, rearranging and recontextualizing words.
- Blitz Poem: A form of poetry with a rapid, stream-of-consciousness style, using repetition and wordplay.
- Sevenling: A seven-line poem with specific guidelines, including three lines with three elements, and a concluding statement in one line.
- Pantun: A Malay poetic form with quatrains, featuring an interlocking rhyme scheme between stanzas.
- Cento: A collage-like poem composed entirely of lines from other poems.
- Cinquain Chain: Connecting multiple cinquains to create a longer poem or narrative.
- Rhyme Royal: A seven-line stanza with a specific rhyme scheme (ABABBCC), used by Geoffrey Chaucer.
- Haiga: A combination of haiku and visual art, where an image complements the haiku.
- Minute Poem: A strict 60-syllable poem with a 8-4-4-4 structure and specific rhyme scheme (aabb).
- Nonet: A nine-line poem with a descending syllable count in each line, often 9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1.
- Tanka Tumble: A series of linked tanka poems, creating a flowing narrative.
- Dramatic Monologue: A poem in which a character speaks directly to an audience, revealing their thoughts and emotions.
2024.04.10 02:40 Blade_of_Boniface Begin With the Bronze Age - A great starting point for reading about Canaan's history and the histories that have intertwined with the region.
 | submitted by Blade_of_Boniface to canaanite [link] [comments] |
2024.04.05 06:49 SteveW_MC The COMPLETE List of Failable Gigs and Side Jobs in Cyberpunk 2077 (v2.12)
It's finally here. After about 2 months of work, hundreds of hours play testing, at least 100 manual saves, 4 days worth of re-recording corrupted footage, asking countless questions on both Cyberpunk2077 subs, and a bunch of comments from people asking me if I'm ok, I am now ready to proudly showcase the Complete List of Failable Gigs and Side Jobs for Cyberpunk 2077
3 2 get the reward. One Prize Claimed for Second Conflict
See Full Video Here
submitted by SteveW_MC to cyberpunkgame [link] [comments]
A Call To Action (PROVE ME WRONG!)
If anyone can prove to me that there is an error in these tables by uploading footage of their unmodified game in version 2.12 or later failing a gig or side job I do not have marked with a "yes" or "No, used to", I will test it out myself, and if I confirm it works, I will reward you $20. A "Job Failed: [name of job]" red popup must appear. I'm gonna limit this to 3 errors (as in 3 jobs I say you can't fail that you actually can). FirstNote: a fail screen when you enter the elevator or call Reed to trigger the end game does not count. Must be before triggering end game.
Note2: jobs with their "Yes's Bolded were recently updated since this post was made by commenters/additional testing. So far Iâve been wrong about 5 gigs/side jobs.
All Failable Base-Game Gigs
| Gig Title | Tier | Fixer | Failable? | How? |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Dancing on a Minefield | 1 | Dakota Smith | Yes | Blow up car |
| Flying Drugs | 1 | Dakota Smith | No | |
| Big Pete's Got Big Problems | 2 | Dakota Smith | No, special mention | Cannot knock him out. Only option is to kill him or scare him away. Both will result in passing the gig |
| No Fixers | 2 | Dakota Smith | No, Special mention | If you drive her in the opposite direction for long enough, sheâll get out and the mission will PASS, but fixer calls and says you did a bad job. |
| Trevor's Last Ride | 2 | Dakota Smith | Yes | Pick up the body but then leave it and run away. |
| MIA | 3 | Dakota Smith | No, Special mention | If you drive him in the opposite direction for long enough, heâll get out and the mission will PASS, but fixer calls and says you did a bad job. |
| Sparring Partner | 3 | Dakota Smith | No | |
| Goodbye, Night City | 4 | Dakota Smith | No | |
| Radar Love | 4 | Dakota Smith | Yes | Blow up the car. If you get into it, it will become invincible. |
| A Lack of Empathy | 1 | Dino Dinovic | No | |
| An Inconvenient Killer | 2 | Dino Dinovic | Yes | Knock em out and then run away |
| Serial Suicide | 2 | Dino Dinovic | No | |
| Guinea Pigs | 3 | Dino Dinovic | Yes | Knock em out and then run away |
| The Frolics of Councilwoman Cole | 3 | Dino Dinovic | No | |
| Two Wrongs Makes Us Right | 1 | Mr. Hands | Yes | Blow up car |
| Error 404 | 1 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | No | |
| Race to the Top | 1 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | No | |
| Serious Side Effects | 1 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | No | |
| Breaking News | 2 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | Yes | Blow up car |
| Family Matters | 2 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | No | |
| Hacking the Hacker | 2 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | No | |
| Cuckoo's Nest | 3 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | No, Special mention | Running away immediately after getting client to follow you will not fail the mission, but fixer will be pissed. |
| Severance Package | 3 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | No | |
| Desperate Measures | 4 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | Yes | Run away instead of getting into truck. Also, please note that this gig will NOT appear if you have not completed âEzekiel Saw the Wheelâ |
| For My Son | 4 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | Yes | Knock em out and then run away |
| Going-away Party | 4 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | Yes | After getting in the car, get out and run away. |
| Hippocratic Oath | 1 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Many Ways to Skin a Cat | 1 | Regina Jones | Yes | Blow up car |
| Monster Hunt | 1 | Regina Jones | Yes | Knock em out and then run away |
| Playing for Keeps | 1 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Rite of Passage | 1 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Dirty Biz | 2 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Troublesome Neighbors | 2 | Regina Jones | Yes | Knock em out and then run away |
| Welcome to America, Comrade | 2 | Regina Jones | Yes | Blow up car |
| Backs Against the Wall | 3 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Catch a Tyger's Toe | 3 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Flight of the Cheetah | 3 | Regina Jones | No, Special mention | Running away immediately after getting client to follow you will not fail the mission, but fixer will be pissed. |
| Shark in the water | 3 | Regina Jones | Yes | Knock em out and then run away |
| Woman of La Mancha | 3 | Regina Jones | Yes | Confront then run |
| Last Login | 4 | Regina Jones | No, Special mention | Also has Sandra Dorsetâs data bank for the mission Full Disclosure |
| Small Man, Big Evil | 4 | Regina Jones | Yes | Knock em out and then run away |
| Bloodsport | 5 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Freedom of the Press | 5 | Regina Jones | Yes | Kill Max or let him kill himself |
| Lousy Kleppers | 5 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Scrolls before Swine | 5 | Regina Jones | No, Special mention | You can kill the client instead of dropping off the scroll but it still marks as a pass. |
| Concrete Cage Trap | 6 | Regina Jones | No, Special mention | Running away immediately after getting client to follow you will not fail the mission, but fixer will be pissed. |
| Fixer, Merc, Soldier, Spy | 6 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Occupational Hazard | 6 | Regina Jones | No, Special mention | Running away immediately after freeing the client will not fail the mission, but Regina will be pissed. |
| The Heisenberg Principle | 6 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Family Heirloom | Rogue | No | ||
| Hot Merchandise | Rogue | Yes | Knock em out and then run away | |
| Nasty Hangover | Rogue | No | ||
| The Union Strikes Back | Rogue | Yes | Knock em out and then run away | |
| Fifth Column | 1 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | No | |
| Jeopardy | 1 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | No | |
| Life's Work | 1 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | Yes | Blow up car |
| On a Tight Leash | 1 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | Yes | Knock em out and then run away |
| Bring Me the Head of Gustavo Orta | 2 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | Yes | Knock em out and then run away |
| Old Friends | 2 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | Yes | Knock em out and then run away. Fail screen took several in-game days to appear for some reason, which is why my previous list said it was not failable. |
| Psychofan | 2 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | No | |
| Eye for an Eye | 3 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | No | Knocking her out and leaving her doesnât fail the mission. Confronting her then running away doesnât fail it. This woman simply wants to die. |
| Sr. Ladrillo's Private Collection | 3 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | No | |
| The Lord Giveth and Taketh Away | 3 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | Yes | Blow up car. |
| Going Up or Down? | 4 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | No | |
| Tyger and Vulture | 1 | Wakako Okada | No | |
| We Have Your Wife | 1 | Wakako Okada | No | |
| Greed Never Pays | 2 | Wakako Okada | No | |
| Olive Branch | 2 | Wakako Okada | Yes | Blow up car or kill guy in trunk |
| Until Death Do Us Part | 2 | Wakako Okada | No | |
| Getting Warmer... | 3 | Wakako Okada | Yes | Disconnect netrunner without injecting coolant. Also possibly by running away. |
| Wakako's Favorite | 3 | Wakako Okada | No | |
| A Shrine Defiled | 4 | Wakako Okada | No |
Note: list is sorted alphabetically by fixer name, then by tier (which gigs are released to you in which order), then by alphabetical name of gig, I think.Note 2: failing gigs does not affect your ability to get more gigs, nor does it lock you out of the final award. None of the final award gigs are failable.
All Failable Main Missions:
- (Don't) Fear the Reaper: Die
All Failable Base Game Side Jobs
| Assigned By | Order | Side Job Name | Failable? | How? |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Aldecaldos | 1 | I'll Fly Away | Yes | After completing âWith a Little Help from my Friendsâ, begin âIâll Fly Awayâ. Once you the Side Job starts, leave the camp or the canyon and skip time 24 hours. Panam will call for âQueen of the Highwayâ. This will fail âIâll Fly Awayâ. |
| Aldecaldos | 2 | Gun Music | Yes | Agro the Scavs then run away. |
| Aldecaldos | 3 | Fortunate Son | No, used to? | Apparently you CANNOT fail it by running away or waiting too long. I suspect this was once failable before v2.12. |
| Brendan | 1 | Coin Operated Boy | No | |
| Brendan | 2 | Spray Paint | No | |
| Brendan | 3 | I Can See Clearly Now | No | |
| Claire Russell | 1 | The Beast in Me | Yes | Run away instead of talking to Claire and starting the race |
| Claire Russell | 2 | The Beast in Me: City Center | Yes | Run away instead of talking to Claire and starting the race |
| Claire Russell | 3 | The Beast in Me: Badlands | Yes | Run away instead of talking to Claire and starting the race |
| Claire Russell | 4 | The Beast in Me: Santo Domingo | Yes | Run away instead of talking to Claire and starting the race |
| Claire Russell | 5 | The Beast in Me: The Big Race | Yes | Run away instead of talking to Claire and starting the race |
| Claire Russell | 6 | The Distance | No, used to? | Running away does not fail the job. I think it used to? |
| Coach Fred | 1 | Beat on the Brat | No | |
| Coach Fred | 2 | Beat on the Brat - Kabuki | No, used to? | Got locked into ring after starting fight. |
| Coach Fred | 3 | Beat on the Brat - Arroyo | No, used to? | Cannot run away after fight starts. Losing the fight does not fail the side job. |
| Coach Fred | 4 | Beat on the Brat - The Glen | No, used to? | Cannot run away after fight starts. Losing the fight does not fail the side job. |
| Coach Fred | 5 | Beat on the Brat - Pacifica | No, used to? | Cannot run away after fight starts. Losing the fight does not fail the side job. Also, Ozob has no different dialogue if you failed âsend in the clownsâ. |
| Coach Fred | 6 | Beat on the Brat - Rancho Coronado | No, used to? | Cannot run away after fight starts. Losing the fight does not fail the side job. |
| Delamain | 1 | Human Nature | No | |
| Delamain | 2 | Tune Up | YES | Shoot someone inside the Delemain office from outside |
| Delamain | 3 | Epistrophy | Yes | By failing any of the sub-missions |
| Delamain | 3.1 | Epistrophy: Northside | Yes | Blow up the car or fail another Epistrophe mission after this one gets on your list. |
| Delamain | 3.2 | Epistrophy: North Oak | Yes | Blow up the car, or fail another Epistrophe mission after this one gets on your list. |
| Delamain | 3.3 | Epistrophy: Coastview | Yes | Run away after the goons spawn, or fail another Epistrophe mission after this one gets on your list. |
| Delamain | 3.4 | Epistrophy: Rancho Coronado | Yes | Blow up the car, or fail another Epistrophe mission after this one gets on your list. |
| Delamain | 3.5 | Epistrophy: Badlands | Yes | Blow up the car, or fail another Epistrophe mission after this one gets on your list. |
| Delamain | 3.6 | Epistrophy: The Glen | Yes | Blow up the car, or fail another Epistrophe mission after this one gets on your list. |
| Delamain | 3.7 | Epistrophy: Wellsprings | Yes | fail another Epistrophe mission after this one gets on your list. Cannot blow up car. |
| Delamain | 4 | Don't Lose Your Mind | No | |
| Jefferson Peralez | 1 | I Fought the Law | No | |
| Jefferson Peralez | 2 | Dream On | No, used to! | You used to be able to fail the mission by losing the van but as of at least 1.63, you cannot fail it. But after I passed it despite losing the truck, I never got the call from Mrs. Peralez |
| Johnny Silverhand | 0 | The Ballad of Buck Ravers | No | |
| Johnny Silverhand | 1 | Chippin' In | Yes | Run away |
| Johnny Silverhand | 1.5 | A Cool Metal Fire | No | |
| Johnny Silverhand | 2 | Blistering Love | Yes | Run away. Failing this side job will not lock you out of Holdinâ On |
| Johnny Silverhand | 3 | Holdin' On | No | |
| Johnny Silverhand | 4 | Second Conflict | YES | When prompted to follow Patricia or Dum Dum, turn around, go back down the elevator, and leave the building |
| Johnny Silverhand | 5 | A Like Supreme | No | |
| Joshua Stephenson | 1 | Sinnerman | Yes | Lose the truck |
| Joshua Stephenson | 2 | There Is A Light That Never Goes Out | Yes | Run away |
| Joshua Stephenson | 3 | They Won't Go When I Go | No | Running away passes the job |
| Judy Ălvarez | 1 | Both Sides, Now | No | |
| Judy Ălvarez | 2 | Ex-Factor | No | Refusing to help when she initially calls will eliminate the side job from the list. No fail screen, not marked as completed. Just disappears. You cannot enter the elevator until Judy comes to it. |
| Judy Ălvarez | 3 | Talkin' 'bout a Revolution | No | Refusing to help while in Judyâs appartment will result in completing the job. Running away instead of fighting the guy will put your game in a bizarre state where your fists are out but you canât draw your gun. Not advisable. |
| Judy Ălvarez | 4 | Pisces | No | Running away instead of entering hte elevator will reset everyone back to their starting points |
| Judy Ălvarez | 5 | Pyramid Song | Yes | Run away instead of connecting to terminal |
| Kerry Eurodyne | 1 | Rebel! Rebel! | Yes | Run away after being driven to the scene. |
| Kerry Eurodyne | 2 | I Don't Wanna Hear It | Yes | Run away instead of looking for how to enter venue |
| Kerry Eurodyne | 3 | Off the Leash | No | |
| Kerry Eurodyne | 4 | Boat Drinks | Yes | Jump off the boat instead of destroying it. |
| Lifepaths | 1 | These Boots Are Made for Walkin' (Nomad) | No | |
| Lifepaths | 1 | Small Man, Big Mouth (Streetkid) | No | |
| Lifepaths | 1 | War Pigs (Corpo) | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | Career Opportunities | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | The Highwayman | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | Bullets | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | Fool on the Hill | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | Full Disclosure | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | Heroes | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | I Really Want to Stay at Your House | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | Killing In The Name | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | Over the Edge | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | Space Oddity | No | If you run away instead of fight, the goons just stay there indefinitely. |
| Misc. | 0 | The Gift | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | The Gig | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | Ezekiel Saw the Wheel | No, used to? | If you run away instead of fight, the goons just stay there with their guns drawn indefinitely. Which is bizarre. I suspect it may have been failable at one point but I am not certain |
| Misc. | 0 | Sweet Dreams | No, used to? | Demanding a refund removes the side job, but no fail screen. |
| Misc. | 0 | Venus in Furs | Yes | Run away after entering motel room but before talking to Meredith. |
| Misc. | 0 | Violence | Yes | Pick up body. Place it down outside of motel room. Then leave motel. |
| Misc. | 0 | A Day In The Life | Yes | Refuse to help, or let Darrell get killed by the thugs |
| Misc. | 0 | Big in Japan | Yes | Kill the guy |
| Misc. | 0 | Burning Desire/Night Moves | Yes | Drive around and eventually the guy explodes. |
| Misc. | 0 | Every Breath You Take | Yes | Getting too close, shooting your gun to alarm everyone, leaving instead of looking for stalker, or refusing to engage stalker and she ends up killing Blue Moon. |
| Misc. | 0 | Happy Together | Yes | Donât go back to check on the sad cop. Or after telling the cops its an turtle, immediately run away. Or be mean to the sad cop so he doesnât let you in or tell you about the iguana. Easiest mission to fail. |
| Misc. | 0 | Love Rollercoaster | Yes | Run away instead of scanning and helping |
| Misc. | 0 | Only Pain | Yes | Kill the cops and run away. Donât wake the corpo |
| Misc. | 0 | Raymond Chandler Evening | Yes | Refuse to defend the corpo. Refuse to help Pepe twice. Get too close to the wife. Shoot your gun to make her run away. |
| Misc. | 0 | Sacrum Profanum/Losing My Religion | Yes | RUN AWAY or KILL MONK |
| Misc. | 0 | Send in the Clowns | Yes | Run away after picking up Ozob |
| Misc. | 0 | Stadium Love | Yes | Shoot up 6th Street goons before starting the mission |
| Misc. | 0 | The Prophet's Song | Yes | Run away after waiting |
| Nix | 1 | Spellbound | No, used to? | Agroing R3n0 and running away still doesnât fail it. Maybe used to be failable? |
| Nix | 2 | KOLD MIRAGE | No | Youâre locked into the room as soon as you put the deck down and canât leave without saving him |
| Panam Palmer | 1 | Riders on the Storm | Yes | RUN AWAY When your outside of, or enroute to, the camp to save Saul. Leave for 24 hours |
| Panam Palmer | 2 | With a Little Help from My Friends | Yes | Run away from train station. Let some time pass. |
| Panam Palmer | 3 | Queen of the Highway | No | You cannot run away, the game will flip you around and send you back to where you came. Using a fast travel point will not fail it either, nor sleeping or time skipping. |
| Regina Jones | 0 | Psycho Killer | No | Running away mid-fight resets the cyberpsycho back to its spawn point. |
| Regina Jones | 0 | Machine Gun | Yes, Sort of | Fails during âThe Killing Moonâ when you turn in your weapons, but comes back when you get your weapons back. Does not fail during âFirestarterâ or âSweet Dreamsâ in 2.12. Before 2.12, if you fail to give Skippy back to Regina before starting a mission where all of your guns get taken, like âAutomatic Loveâ or âSweet Dreamsâ or âA Lack of Empathyâ, then the mission supposedly fails. Sweet Dreams didnât fail for me in v1.3, i kept the gun after waking up. |
| River Ward | 1 | The Hunt | Yes | Bail at pretty much any point during the quest, including refusing to stay overnight. If you bail as soon as you get to the farm, River will die. Best ending. |
| River Ward | 2 | Following the River | No | Running away and skipping time somehow doesnât fail the quest, unlike Judyâs or Kerryâs final quests. Weird. |
| Robert Wilson | 1 | The Gun | No | |
| Robert Wilson | 2 | Shoot To Thrill | No | |
| Vehicles | 0 | Dressed to Kill | No | |
| Vehicles | 0 | I'm in Love with My Car | No | |
| Vehicles | 0 | Murk Man Returns Again Once More Forever | No | Car is invincible. |
| Vehicles | 0 | Sex On Wheels | No | |
| Vehicles | 0 | Shape of a Pony | No | |
| Viktor Vektor | 1 | Upgrade U | No | |
| Viktor Vektor | 2 | Paid in Full | No | |
| Zen Master | 1 | Imagine | No | |
| Zen Master | 2 | Stairway To Heaven | No | |
| Zen Master | 3 | Poem Of The Atoms | No | |
| Zen Master | 4 | Meetings Along The Edge | No |
Note: list is sorted alphabetically by who assigns you the job, then by the order it's assigned.
Note 2: as mentioned in this post, failing love interest missions results in some bizarre end game holo voicemails. Including Saul calling you despite being canonically dead, Panam being surprisingly chill with you despite hating your guts for abandoning her, and Judy saying you haven't talked in a while despite leaving Night City and blocking you.
All Failable DLC Gigs
None can be failed.All Failable DLC Main Jobs and Side Jobs
Note: Contains Spoilers!| Assigned By | Order | Side Job Name | Failable? | How? |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| DLC Main Mission | 1 | Dog Eat Dog | Yes | Run away |
| DLC Main Mission | 2 | Hole in the Sky | Yes | Run away |
| DLC Main Mission | 3 | Spider and the Fly | No | I ran around with Meyers for like 20 minutes, getting caught, running as fast as I can, an nothing happens. You get yelled at but you can't fail it. |
| DLC Main Mission | 4 | Lucretia My Reflection | Yes | Refuse offer to continue from Reed & Meyers |
| DLC Main Mission | 5 | The Damned | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 6 | Get It Together | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 7 | You Know My Name | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 8 | Birds With Broken Wings | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 9 | Iâve Seen That Face Before | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 10 | Firestarter | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 11-A | Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos | Yes | Run away instead of fighting MaxTech |
| DLC Main Mission | 11-B | The Killing Moon | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 12-A | Somewhat Damaged | Yes | Run away instead of following after Songbird |
| DLC Main Mission | 13-A | Leave in Silence | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 14-A | Four Score and seven | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 12-B | Through Pain to Heaven | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 12-C | Unfinished Sympathy | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 13-C | From Her to Eternity | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 15 | Who wants to live forever | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 16 | Things done changed | No | |
| Misc. (DLC) | Moving Heat | No | ||
| Misc. (DLC) | Balls to the Wall | Yes | Refuse to start mission, agro/shoot them. Or Fails when you kill Hansen in Firestarter. No fail screen if you side with Songbird, unfortunately. | |
| Misc. (DLC) | Addicted To Chaos | No | ||
| Misc. (DLC) | Corpo of the Month | No | ||
| Misc. (DLC) | 1R-0NC-LAD (unmarked) | No | ||
| Misc. (DLC) | Money For Nothing | No | ||
| Misc. (DLC) | New Person, Same Old Mistakes | No | ||
| Misc. (DLC) | No Easy Way Out | No | ||
| Misc. (DLC) | One Way or Another | No | Passes as soon as you open the shipping container. Wiki is wrong, you donât have to kill the attackers | |
| Misc. (DLC) | The Show Must Go On | No | ||
| Misc. (DLC) | This Corrosion | No | ||
| Misc. (DLC) | 10.5 | Tomorrow Never Knows | No | |
| Misc. (DLC) | Voodoo Treasure | No | ||
| Mr. Hands (DLC) | Run This Town | YES! | Refuse to help twice while visiting with Mr. Hands. | |
| Mr. Hands (DLC) | Dazed and Confused | Yes | Tell Lina the truth | |
| Mr. Hands (DLC) | Dirty Second Hands | No | ||
| Mr. Hands (DLC) | Go Your Own Way | No | ||
| Mr. Hands (DLC) | Shot by Both Sides | Yes | Shoot Bree when she first reveals herself. Or run away instead of investigating the old lab with her. | |
| Muamar "El Capitan" Reyes (DLC) | 1 | Push It to the Limit | Yes | Blow up car after getting into it. INFINITELY FAILABLE unless you pass it once |
| Muamar "El Capitan" Reyes (DLC) | 2 | Just Another Story | Yes | Blow up car after getting into it. INFINITELY FAILABLE FOREVER! |
| Muamar "El Capitan" Reyes (DLC) | 3 | Baby Let Me Take You | Yes | Drive truck into water |
Special Thanks:
- The mission tree has been a godsend
- Table formatting brought to you by ExcelToReddit
- The fine folks on /cyberpunkgame and /lowsodiumcyberpunk
2024.04.04 09:56 adulting4kids More Types of Poems
- Terza Rima: A poetic form consisting of tercets (three-line stanzas) with interwoven rhymes, often used by Dante in "The Divine Comedy."
- Clerihew: A humorous and whimsical poem of four lines, with irregular meter and rhymes, focusing on a person, often the poet.
- Triolet: An eight-line poem with a specific rhyme scheme (ABaAabAB), featuring repeated lines.
- Ballad: A narrative poem often set to music, telling a story with a strong rhythm and rhyme.
- Renga: A collaborative form of Japanese linked-verse poetry, typically composed by multiple poets in alternating stanzas.
- Senryu: Similar to haiku, but focuses on human nature and emotions rather than nature itself.
- Paradelle: A complex and rare form of poetry that repeats lines with variations, creating a challenging structure.
- Golden Shovel: A form where each word in a line of an existing poem is used as the end word in a line of the new poem.
- Haibun: A combination of prose and haiku, often describing a journey or a nature experience.
- Villancico: A medieval Spanish poetic form often used in songs and carols, characterized by repetition and refrains.
- Palindrome Poetry: A poem that reads the same backward as forward, creating a mirrored effect.
- Blackout Poetry: Creating poetry by selectively redacting or highlighting words from an existing text, often creating a visual element.
- Tetractys: A five-line poem with a syllable count of 1, 2, 3, 4, 10, creating a pyramid shape.
- Rubaiyat: A Persian form of poetry with quatrains, typically written in iambic pentameter with the rhyme scheme AABA.
- Fibonacci Poem: A poem following the Fibonacci sequence for syllable counts in each line (0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, etc.).
- Calligram: A visual poem in which the words or letters are arranged in a shape that reflects the poem's subject.
- Shape Poetry: Poems that take on a visual shape related to their subject, enhancing the overall meaning.
- Tanka Prose: A prose poem followed by a tanka, combining the concise nature of prose with the emotional depth of tanka.
- Found Poetry: Creating poetry from existing texts or found materials, rearranging and recontextualizing words.
- Blitz Poem: A form of poetry with a rapid, stream-of-consciousness style, using repetition and wordplay.
- Sevenling: A seven-line poem with specific guidelines, including three lines with three elements, and a concluding statement in one line.
- Pantun: A Malay poetic form with quatrains, featuring an interlocking rhyme scheme between stanzas.
- Cento: A collage-like poem composed entirely of lines from other poems.
- Cinquain Chain: Connecting multiple cinquains to create a longer poem or narrative.
- Rhyme Royal: A seven-line stanza with a specific rhyme scheme (ABABBCC), used by Geoffrey Chaucer.
- Haiga: A combination of haiku and visual art, where an image complements the haiku.
- Minute Poem: A strict 60-syllable poem with a 8-4-4-4 structure and specific rhyme scheme (aabb).
- Nonet: A nine-line poem with a descending syllable count in each line, often 9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1.
- Tanka Tumble: A series of linked tanka poems, creating a flowing narrative.
- Dramatic Monologue: A poem in which a character speaks directly to an audience, revealing their thoughts and emotions.
2024.04.04 07:44 SteveW_MC The COMPLETE List of Failable Gigs and Side Jobs for Cyberpunk 2077 (v2.12)
It's finally here. After about 2 months of work, hundreds of hours play testing, at least 100 manual saves, 4 days worth of re-recording corrupted footage, asking countless questions on both Cyberpunk2077 subs, and a bunch of comments from people asking me if I'm ok, I am now ready to proudly showcase the Complete List of Failable Gigs and Side Jobs for Cyberpunk 2077
3 2 get the reward. One Prize Claimed for Second Conflict
See Full Video Here
submitted by SteveW_MC to LowSodiumCyberpunk [link] [comments]
A Call To Action (PROVE ME WRONG!)
If anyone can prove to me that there is an error in these tables by uploading footage of their unmodified game in version 2.12 or later failing a gig or side job I do not have marked with a "yes" or "No, used to", I will test it out myself, and if I confirm it works, I will reward you $20. A "Job Failed: [name of job]" red popup must appear. I'm gonna limit this to 3 errors (as in 3 jobs I say you can't fail that you actually can). FirstNote: a fail screen when you enter the elevator or call Reed to trigger the end game does not count. Must be before triggering end game.
Note2: jobs with their "Yes's Bolded were recently updated since this post was made by commenters/additional testing. So far Iâve been wrong about 5 gigs/side jobs.
All Failable Base-Game Gigs
| Gig Title | Tier | Fixer | Failable? | How? |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Dancing on a Minefield | 1 | Dakota Smith | Yes | Blow up car |
| Flying Drugs | 1 | Dakota Smith | No | |
| Big Pete's Got Big Problems | 2 | Dakota Smith | No, special mention | Cannot knock him out. Only option is to kill him or scare him away. Both will result in passing the gig |
| No Fixers | 2 | Dakota Smith | No, Special mention | If you drive her in the opposite direction for long enough, sheâll get out and the mission will PASS, but fixer calls and says you did a bad job. |
| Trevor's Last Ride | 2 | Dakota Smith | Yes | Pick up the body but then leave it and run away. |
| MIA | 3 | Dakota Smith | No, Special mention | If you drive him in the opposite direction for long enough, heâll get out and the mission will PASS, but fixer calls and says you did a bad job. |
| Sparring Partner | 3 | Dakota Smith | No | |
| Goodbye, Night City | 4 | Dakota Smith | No | |
| Radar Love | 4 | Dakota Smith | Yes | Blow up the car. If you get into it, it will become invincible. |
| A Lack of Empathy | 1 | Dino Dinovic | No | |
| An Inconvenient Killer | 2 | Dino Dinovic | Yes | Knock em out and then run away |
| Serial Suicide | 2 | Dino Dinovic | No | |
| Guinea Pigs | 3 | Dino Dinovic | Yes | Knock em out and then run away |
| The Frolics of Councilwoman Cole | 3 | Dino Dinovic | No | |
| Two Wrongs Makes Us Right | 1 | Mr. Hands | Yes | Blow up car |
| Error 404 | 1 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | No | |
| Race to the Top | 1 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | No | |
| Serious Side Effects | 1 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | No | |
| Breaking News | 2 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | Yes | Blow up car |
| Family Matters | 2 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | No | |
| Hacking the Hacker | 2 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | No | |
| Cuckoo's Nest | 3 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | No, Special mention | Running away immediately after getting client to follow you will not fail the mission, but fixer will be pissed. |
| Severance Package | 3 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | No | |
| Desperate Measures | 4 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | Yes | Run away instead of getting into truck. Also, please note that this gig will NOT appear if you have not completed âEzekiel Saw the Wheelâ |
| For My Son | 4 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | Yes | Knock em out and then run away |
| Going-away Party | 4 | Muamar âEl Capitanâ Reyes | Yes | After getting in the car, get out and run away. |
| Hippocratic Oath | 1 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Many Ways to Skin a Cat | 1 | Regina Jones | Yes | Blow up car |
| Monster Hunt | 1 | Regina Jones | Yes | Knock em out and then run away |
| Playing for Keeps | 1 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Rite of Passage | 1 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Dirty Biz | 2 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Troublesome Neighbors | 2 | Regina Jones | Yes | Knock em out and then run away |
| Welcome to America, Comrade | 2 | Regina Jones | Yes | Blow up car |
| Backs Against the Wall | 3 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Catch a Tyger's Toe | 3 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Flight of the Cheetah | 3 | Regina Jones | No, Special mention | Running away immediately after getting client to follow you will not fail the mission, but fixer will be pissed. |
| Shark in the water | 3 | Regina Jones | Yes | Knock em out and then run away |
| Woman of La Mancha | 3 | Regina Jones | Yes | Confront then run |
| Last Login | 4 | Regina Jones | No, Special mention | Also has Sandra Dorsetâs data bank for the mission Full Disclosure |
| Small Man, Big Evil | 4 | Regina Jones | Yes | Knock em out and then run away |
| Bloodsport | 5 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Freedom of the Press | 5 | Regina Jones | Yes | Kill Max or let him kill himself |
| Lousy Kleppers | 5 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Scrolls before Swine | 5 | Regina Jones | No, Special mention | You can kill the client instead of dropping off the scroll but it still marks as a pass. |
| Concrete Cage Trap | 6 | Regina Jones | No, Special mention | Running away immediately after getting client to follow you will not fail the mission, but fixer will be pissed. |
| Fixer, Merc, Soldier, Spy | 6 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Occupational Hazard | 6 | Regina Jones | No, Special mention | Running away immediately after freeing the client will not fail the mission, but Regina will be pissed. |
| The Heisenberg Principle | 6 | Regina Jones | No | |
| Family Heirloom | Rogue | No | ||
| Hot Merchandise | Rogue | Yes | Knock em out and then run away | |
| Nasty Hangover | Rogue | No | ||
| The Union Strikes Back | Rogue | Yes | Knock em out and then run away | |
| Fifth Column | 1 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | No | |
| Jeopardy | 1 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | No | |
| Life's Work | 1 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | Yes | Blow up car |
| On a Tight Leash | 1 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | Yes | Knock em out and then run away |
| Bring Me the Head of Gustavo Orta | 2 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | Yes | Knock em out and then run away |
| Old Friends | 2 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | Yes | Knock em out and then run away. Fail screen took several in-game days to appear for some reason, which is why my previous list said it was not failable. |
| Psychofan | 2 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | No | |
| Eye for an Eye | 3 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | No | Knocking her out and leaving her doesnât fail the mission. Confronting her then running away doesnât fail it. This woman simply wants to die. |
| Sr. Ladrillo's Private Collection | 3 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | No | |
| The Lord Giveth and Taketh Away | 3 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | Yes | Blow up car. |
| Going Up or Down? | 4 | Sebastian âPadreâ Ibarra | No | |
| Tyger and Vulture | 1 | Wakako Okada | No | |
| We Have Your Wife | 1 | Wakako Okada | No | |
| Greed Never Pays | 2 | Wakako Okada | No | |
| Olive Branch | 2 | Wakako Okada | Yes | Blow up car or kill guy in trunk |
| Until Death Do Us Part | 2 | Wakako Okada | No | |
| Getting Warmer... | 3 | Wakako Okada | Yes | Disconnect netrunner without injecting coolant. Also possibly by running away. |
| Wakako's Favorite | 3 | Wakako Okada | No | |
| A Shrine Defiled | 4 | Wakako Okada | No |
Note: list is sorted alphabetically by fixer name, then by tier (which gigs are released to you in which order), then by alphabetical name of gig, I think.Note 2: failing gigs does not affect your ability to get more gigs, nor does it lock you out of the final award. None of the final award gigs are failable.
All Failable Main Missions:
- (Don't) Fear the Reaper: Die
All Failable Base Game Side Jobs
| Assigned By | Order | Side Job Name | Failable? | How? |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Aldecaldos | 1 | I'll Fly Away | Yes | After completing âWith a Little Help from my Friendsâ, begin âIâll Fly Awayâ. Once you the Side Job starts, leave the camp or the canyon and skip time 24 hours. Panam will call for âQueen of the Highwayâ. This will fail âIâll Fly Awayâ. |
| Aldecaldos | 2 | Gun Music | Yes | Agro the Scavs then run away. |
| Aldecaldos | 3 | Fortunate Son | No, used to? | Apparently you CANNOT fail it by running away or waiting too long. I suspect this was once failable before v2.12. |
| Brendan | 1 | Coin Operated Boy | No | |
| Brendan | 2 | Spray Paint | No | |
| Brendan | 3 | I Can See Clearly Now | No | |
| Claire Russell | 1 | The Beast in Me | Yes | Run away instead of talking to Claire and starting the race |
| Claire Russell | 2 | The Beast in Me: City Center | Yes | Run away instead of talking to Claire and starting the race |
| Claire Russell | 3 | The Beast in Me: Badlands | Yes | Run away instead of talking to Claire and starting the race |
| Claire Russell | 4 | The Beast in Me: Santo Domingo | Yes | Run away instead of talking to Claire and starting the race |
| Claire Russell | 5 | The Beast in Me: The Big Race | Yes | Run away instead of talking to Claire and starting the race |
| Claire Russell | 6 | The Distance | No, used to? | Running away does not fail the job. I think it used to? |
| Coach Fred | 1 | Beat on the Brat | No | |
| Coach Fred | 2 | Beat on the Brat - Kabuki | No, used to? | Got locked into ring after starting fight. |
| Coach Fred | 3 | Beat on the Brat - Arroyo | No, used to? | Cannot run away after fight starts. Losing the fight does not fail the side job. |
| Coach Fred | 4 | Beat on the Brat - The Glen | No, used to? | Cannot run away after fight starts. Losing the fight does not fail the side job. |
| Coach Fred | 5 | Beat on the Brat - Pacifica | No, used to? | Cannot run away after fight starts. Losing the fight does not fail the side job. Also, Ozob has no different dialogue if you failed âsend in the clownsâ. |
| Coach Fred | 6 | Beat on the Brat - Rancho Coronado | No, used to? | Cannot run away after fight starts. Losing the fight does not fail the side job. |
| Delamain | 1 | Human Nature | No | |
| Delamain | 2 | Tune Up | YES | Shoot someone inside the Delemain office from outside |
| Delamain | 3 | Epistrophy | Yes | By failing any of the sub-missions |
| Delamain | 3.1 | Epistrophy: Northside | Yes | Blow up the car or fail another Epistrophe mission after this one gets on your list. |
| Delamain | 3.2 | Epistrophy: North Oak | Yes | Blow up the car, or fail another Epistrophe mission after this one gets on your list. |
| Delamain | 3.3 | Epistrophy: Coastview | Yes | Run away after the goons spawn, or fail another Epistrophe mission after this one gets on your list. |
| Delamain | 3.4 | Epistrophy: Rancho Coronado | Yes | Blow up the car, or fail another Epistrophe mission after this one gets on your list. |
| Delamain | 3.5 | Epistrophy: Badlands | Yes | Blow up the car, or fail another Epistrophe mission after this one gets on your list. |
| Delamain | 3.6 | Epistrophy: The Glen | Yes | Blow up the car, or fail another Epistrophe mission after this one gets on your list. |
| Delamain | 3.7 | Epistrophy: Wellsprings | Yes | fail another Epistrophe mission after this one gets on your list. Cannot blow up car. |
| Delamain | 4 | Don't Lose Your Mind | No | |
| Jefferson Peralez | 1 | I Fought the Law | No | |
| Jefferson Peralez | 2 | Dream On | No, used to! | You used to be able to fail the mission by losing the van but as of at least 1.63, you cannot fail it. But after I passed it despite losing the truck, I never got the call from Mrs. Peralez |
| Johnny Silverhand | 0 | The Ballad of Buck Ravers | No | |
| Johnny Silverhand | 1 | Chippin' In | Yes | Run away |
| Johnny Silverhand | 1.5 | A Cool Metal Fire | No | |
| Johnny Silverhand | 2 | Blistering Love | Yes | Run away. Failing this side job will not lock you out of Holdinâ On |
| Johnny Silverhand | 3 | Holdin' On | No | |
| Johnny Silverhand | 4 | Second Conflict | YES | When prompted to follow Patricia or Dum Dum, turn around, go back down the elevator, and leave the building |
| Johnny Silverhand | 5 | A Like Supreme | No | |
| Joshua Stephenson | 1 | Sinnerman | Yes | Lose the truck |
| Joshua Stephenson | 2 | There Is A Light That Never Goes Out | Yes | Run away |
| Joshua Stephenson | 3 | They Won't Go When I Go | No | Running away passes the job |
| Judy Ălvarez | 1 | Both Sides, Now | No | |
| Judy Ălvarez | 2 | Ex-Factor | No | Refusing to help when she initially calls will eliminate the side job from the list. No fail screen, not marked as completed. Just disappears. You cannot enter the elevator until Judy comes to it. |
| Judy Ălvarez | 3 | Talkin' 'bout a Revolution | No | Refusing to help while in Judyâs appartment will result in completing the job. Running away instead of fighting the guy will put your game in a bizarre state where your fists are out but you canât draw your gun. Not advisable. |
| Judy Ălvarez | 4 | Pisces | No | Running away instead of entering hte elevator will reset everyone back to their starting points |
| Judy Ălvarez | 5 | Pyramid Song | Yes | Run away instead of connecting to terminal |
| Kerry Eurodyne | 1 | Rebel! Rebel! | Yes | Run away after being driven to the scene. |
| Kerry Eurodyne | 2 | I Don't Wanna Hear It | Yes | Run away instead of looking for how to enter venue |
| Kerry Eurodyne | 3 | Off the Leash | No | |
| Kerry Eurodyne | 4 | Boat Drinks | Yes | Jump off the boat instead of destroying it. |
| Lifepaths | 1 | These Boots Are Made for Walkin' (Nomad) | No | |
| Lifepaths | 1 | Small Man, Big Mouth (Streetkid) | No | |
| Lifepaths | 1 | War Pigs (Corpo) | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | Career Opportunities | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | The Highwayman | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | Bullets | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | Fool on the Hill | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | Full Disclosure | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | Heroes | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | I Really Want to Stay at Your House | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | Killing In The Name | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | Over the Edge | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | Space Oddity | No | If you run away instead of fight, the goons just stay there indefinitely. |
| Misc. | 0 | The Gift | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | The Gig | No | |
| Misc. | 0 | Ezekiel Saw the Wheel | No, used to? | If you run away instead of fight, the goons just stay there with their guns drawn indefinitely. Which is bizarre. I suspect it may have been failable at one point but I am not certain |
| Misc. | 0 | Sweet Dreams | No, used to? | Demanding a refund removes the side job, but no fail screen. |
| Misc. | 0 | Venus in Furs | Yes | Run away after entering motel room but before talking to Meredith. |
| Misc. | 0 | Violence | Yes | Pick up body. Place it down outside of motel room. Then leave motel. |
| Misc. | 0 | A Day In The Life | Yes | Refuse to help, or let Darrell get killed by the thugs |
| Misc. | 0 | Big in Japan | Yes | Kill the guy |
| Misc. | 0 | Burning Desire/Night Moves | Yes | Drive around and eventually the guy explodes. |
| Misc. | 0 | Every Breath You Take | Yes | Getting too close, shooting your gun to alarm everyone, leaving instead of looking for stalker, or refusing to engage stalker and she ends up killing Blue Moon. |
| Misc. | 0 | Happy Together | Yes | Donât go back to check on the sad cop. Or after telling the cops its an turtle, immediately run away. Or be mean to the sad cop so he doesnât let you in or tell you about the iguana. Easiest mission to fail. |
| Misc. | 0 | Love Rollercoaster | Yes | Run away instead of scanning and helping |
| Misc. | 0 | Only Pain | Yes | Kill the cops and run away. Donât wake the corpo |
| Misc. | 0 | Raymond Chandler Evening | Yes | Refuse to defend the corpo. Refuse to help Pepe twice. Get too close to the wife. Shoot your gun to make her run away. |
| Misc. | 0 | Sacrum Profanum/Losing My Religion | Yes | RUN AWAY or KILL MONK |
| Misc. | 0 | Send in the Clowns | Yes | Run away after picking up Ozob |
| Misc. | 0 | Stadium Love | Yes | Shoot up 6th Street goons before starting the mission |
| Misc. | 0 | The Prophet's Song | Yes | Run away after waiting |
| Nix | 1 | Spellbound | No, used to? | Agroing R3n0 and running away still doesnât fail it. Maybe used to be failable? |
| Nix | 2 | KOLD MIRAGE | No | Youâre locked into the room as soon as you put the deck down and canât leave without saving him |
| Panam Palmer | 1 | Riders on the Storm | Yes | RUN AWAY When your outside of, or enroute to, the camp to save Saul. Leave for 24 hours |
| Panam Palmer | 2 | With a Little Help from My Friends | Yes | Run away from train station. Let some time pass. |
| Panam Palmer | 3 | Queen of the Highway | No | You cannot run away, the game will flip you around and send you back to where you came. Using a fast travel point will not fail it either, nor sleeping or time skipping. |
| Regina Jones | 0 | Psycho Killer | No | Running away mid-fight resets the cyberpsycho back to its spawn point. |
| Regina Jones | 0 | Machine Gun | Yes, Sort of | Fails during âThe Killing Moonâ when you turn in your weapons, but comes back when you get your weapons back. Does not fail during âFirestarterâ or âSweet Dreamsâ in 2.12. Before 2.12, if you fail to give Skippy back to Regina before starting a mission where all of your guns get taken, like âAutomatic Loveâ or âSweet Dreamsâ or âA Lack of Empathyâ, then the mission supposedly fails. Sweet Dreams didnât fail for me in v1.3, i kept the gun after waking up. |
| River Ward | 1 | The Hunt | Yes | Bail at pretty much any point during the quest, including refusing to stay overnight. If you bail as soon as you get to the farm, River will die. Best ending. |
| River Ward | 2 | Following the River | No | Running away and skipping time somehow doesnât fail the quest, unlike Judyâs or Kerryâs final quests. Weird. |
| Robert Wilson | 1 | The Gun | No | |
| Robert Wilson | 2 | Shoot To Thrill | No | |
| Vehicles | 0 | Dressed to Kill | No | |
| Vehicles | 0 | I'm in Love with My Car | No | |
| Vehicles | 0 | Murk Man Returns Again Once More Forever | No | Car is invincible. |
| Vehicles | 0 | Sex On Wheels | No | |
| Vehicles | 0 | Shape of a Pony | No | |
| Viktor Vektor | 1 | Upgrade U | No | |
| Viktor Vektor | 2 | Paid in Full | No | |
| Zen Master | 1 | Imagine | No | |
| Zen Master | 2 | Stairway To Heaven | No | |
| Zen Master | 3 | Poem Of The Atoms | No | |
| Zen Master | 4 | Meetings Along The Edge | No |
Note: list is sorted alphabetically by who assigns you the job, then by the order it's assigned.
Note 2: as mentioned in this post, failing love interest missions results in some bizarre end game holo voicemails. Including Saul calling you despite being canonically dead, Panam being surprisingly chill with you despite hating your guts for abandoning her, and Judy saying you haven't talked in a while despite leaving Night City and blocking you.
All Failable DLC Gigs
None can be failed.All Failable DLC Main Jobs and Side Jobs
Note: Contains Spoilers!| Assigned By | Order | Side Job Name | Failable? | How? |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| DLC Main Mission | 1 | Dog Eat Dog | Yes | Run away |
| DLC Main Mission | 2 | Hole in the Sky | Yes | Run away |
| DLC Main Mission | 3 | Spider and the Fly | No | I ran around with Meyers for like 20 minutes, getting caught, running as fast as I can, an nothing happens. You get yelled at but you can't fail it. |
| DLC Main Mission | 4 | Lucretia My Reflection | Yes | Refuse offer to continue from Reed & Meyers |
| DLC Main Mission | 5 | The Damned | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 6 | Get It Together | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 7 | You Know My Name | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 8 | Birds With Broken Wings | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 9 | Iâve Seen That Face Before | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 10 | Firestarter | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 11-A | Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos | Yes | Run away instead of fighting MaxTech |
| DLC Main Mission | 11-B | The Killing Moon | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 12-A | Somewhat Damaged | Yes | Run away instead of following after Songbird |
| DLC Main Mission | 13-A | Leave in Silence | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 14-A | Four Score and seven | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 12-B | Through Pain to Heaven | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 12-C | Unfinished Sympathy | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 13-C | From Her to Eternity | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 15 | Who wants to live forever | No | |
| DLC Main Mission | 16 | Things done changed | No | |
| Misc. (DLC) | Moving Heat | No | ||
| Misc. (DLC) | Balls to the Wall | Yes | Refuse to start mission, agro/shoot them. Or Fails when you kill Hansen in Firestarter. No fail screen if you side with Songbird, unfortunately. | |
| Misc. (DLC) | Addicted To Chaos | No | ||
| Misc. (DLC) | Corpo of the Month | No | ||
| Misc. (DLC) | 1R-0NC-LAD (unmarked) | No | ||
| Misc. (DLC) | Money For Nothing | No | ||
| Misc. (DLC) | New Person, Same Old Mistakes | No | ||
| Misc. (DLC) | No Easy Way Out | No | ||
| Misc. (DLC) | One Way or Another | No | Passes as soon as you open the shipping container. Wiki is wrong, you donât have to kill the attackers | |
| Misc. (DLC) | The Show Must Go On | No | ||
| Misc. (DLC) | This Corrosion | No | ||
| Misc. (DLC) | 10.5 | Tomorrow Never Knows | No | |
| Misc. (DLC) | Voodoo Treasure | No | ||
| Mr. Hands (DLC) | Run This Town | YES! | Refuse to help twice while visiting with Mr. Hands. | |
| Mr. Hands (DLC) | Dazed and Confused | Yes | Tell Lina the truth | |
| Mr. Hands (DLC) | Dirty Second Hands | No | ||
| Mr. Hands (DLC) | Go Your Own Way | No | ||
| Mr. Hands (DLC) | Shot by Both Sides | Yes | Shoot Bree when she first reveals herself. Or run away instead of investigating the old lab with her. | |
| Muamar "El Capitan" Reyes (DLC) | 1 | Push It to the Limit | Yes | Blow up car after getting into it. INFINITELY FAILABLE unless you pass it once |
| Muamar "El Capitan" Reyes (DLC) | 2 | Just Another Story | Yes | Blow up car after getting into it. INFINITELY FAILABLE FOREVER! |
| Muamar "El Capitan" Reyes (DLC) | 3 | Baby Let Me Take You | Yes | Drive truck into water |
Special Thanks:
- The mission tree has been a godsend
- Table formatting brought to you by ExcelToReddit
- The fine folks on /cyberpunkgame and /lowsodiumcyberpunk
2024.04.01 00:42 Little-Monster1000 Dangerous Love 4
Nathan adored Megan. But did he love her with the patience of a saint or the passion of the devil? Perhaps, it didnât make a difference. She wasnât there with him to be loved or hated, she ran away, and he still loved her, as if she were there with him and craved for her kisses, as if they were part of his respiratory system and her lips were the source of carbohydrate. Not just any carbohydrate but pure sugar, and he wanted to kiss her till his heart absorbed every sweetness in her essence, kiss her French till his blood sugar was high, and his liver stored the sugar as glycogen, and converted it to glucose as the muscles in his tongue and lips continued to burn calories before he even parted his lips from her sweet lips, kiss her, and kiss her and kiss her till his soul caught fire. Nathan didnât believe in the past life, but if there were one, he thought that they invented kiss, it was him and her, who started it all, they sat under the tree, and bill and coo, and kissed for the very first time in the history of humankind, it must have been around 15000 BC, they were love hero and heroine, he was half god and half man, she was a nymph, they changed how people looked at romance. They kissed till their heart turned into roses, covered with due droplets. The gods and goddesses got jealous and made them mortals. It didnât stop there. He was a warrior in the kingdom of Egypt around 3100 BC, he won many battles, riding a chariot and shooting arrows with a bow and all; she was the beautiful daughter of a pharaoh Tutankhamun. Nathan saw her when he came to have few words with her father and fell in love with her. Meanwhile, she had a dream about walking in the desert barefoot and she stumbled upon a red rose, picked the flower up, and smell it before Sandstrom twirled around her, out of nowhere came a Bedouin in a winged unicorn, picked her up, placed her on the unicorn, and rescued her, they escaped flying in the sky. The pharaoh brought an oracle to interpret the dream, the oracle said that her heart belonged to a warrior, but her life was in great danger; the rose was love and sandstorm meant trouble. Megan admitted that she was in love with Nathan, she wanted to marry him. Upon hearing that news, her uncle Ramses, who desired his son Djoser to rule Egypt, conspired against them, saying that Nathan wasnât a royal blood, so he couldnât marry her, his son Djoser was chosen by gods to marry his brotherâs daughter and together they should rule Egypt. At the same time, Moses wanted to free the Israelites, there were too many things going on back then, Pharaohâs relatives were hungry for power, law makers wanted to increase tax in order to build government buildings and conflicts between political parties fighting for the throne.
Djoser hired an assassin after Megan refused to marry him. She came to Nathanâs house to visit him. The assassin, who had followed her, flashed a knife and stopped her dead in her tracks, and when he was about to stab her in the stomach, out of nowhere came Nathan and held his hand. In the ensuing straggle, Nathan stabbed him in the liver with the same knife and killed him. The officials arrested Nathan. Djoser ordered for his execution, but Megan told him that she would marry him if Djoser pardoned Nathan. Djoser pardoned Nathan but made him a slave; he was forced to build a pyramid. Megan, who was now a queen, visited him every chance she got despite the fact Djoser had warned her not to get involved with him, she also refused to sleep with her nephew, she didnât love him, Djoser, who was only interested in power, didnât mind at all; he didnât have feelings for Megan either and chose to have a son with another woman after an oracle told him a child with Megan might potentially result in a Hemophilia and the death of the offspring. And during the plagues, even though the bible said that God killed firstborn of children, he didnât kill the pharaohâs son; in fact, he didnât kill children at all, they only got sick, it was a deadly disease (similar to smallpox) that might have been responsible for the death of those, who had a weak immune system, without discriminating first, second or third born and so on. But Megan, who was a doctor, got it under control, and in the height of political turmoil, finally, the Pharaoh (Djoser) allowed the Israelites to leave Egypt. Megan freed Nathan, they put normal clothes, joined the Israelites, left Egypt through red sea, rested in Sinai Desert, and later discovered Jerusalem.
Nathan then became a sculptor around 440 BC in Athens and Megan was the beautiful daughter of a merchant - Lysias. He caught a glimpse of her, did a sculpture of her, and kissed it every day. Her father wanted her to marry a young business man named Thucydides, who was making name for himself. Aeschylus, Thucydidesâ father, was a good friend of Lysias (her father). Thucydides had a thing for her, she told her father that she was in love with a sculptor named Nathan, whom she secretly saw doing her sculpture and kissing it on the lips while visiting her friend (Diana), whom happened to be his neighbor, she wanted to be with him. Her father respected her wish. Megan met Nathan in a garden, they spent quality time, as a matter of fact, they hit it off; kissing, caressing, and making love like the gods and goddesses in the Garden of Eternal love. Thucydides, who fancied her, confronted Nathan, they had a duel, Nathan killed him in self-defense. The officials charged him for murder, Megan, who served as his lawyer, defended him; it was Thucydides, who started the fight, Nathan was standing up to a bully, the juries found him not guilty, he was acquitted of all charges, the judge sent him home. Nathan and Megan got married, but Euripides (Thucydidesâ brother), who wanted to avenge his brother and had vowed to kill both Nathan and Megan, came to their house in the middle of the night with a couple of hoodlums, they beat them mercilessly, tied them with ropes, rinsed the house with gas. Euripides said, eye for an eye, and set the house on fire while they were still in the house knotted. The Greek might have invented tragedy and death seemed inevitable, but luckily, Nathan freed himself, untied Megan, and they exited right before the house was about to be engulfed with flames. Eventually, Nathan confronted Euripides, they got in a sword fight, Nathan stabbed him in the lungs and killed him. Unfortunately, Euripidesâ wife Tara was the daughter of an important politician named Hippias, Hippias was upset that Nathan left his daughter without a husband, used his influence, the Greek court persecuted him to the fullest extent of the law, the judge gave him a death penalty, he was executed in public. Megan died of grief as well. Later, Nathan returned as a poet in 10 BC in the golden age of Rome, Megan was a princess. Nathan fell in love with her and wrote a million of poems, but she was engaged to a powerful emperor named Caesar. Caesar ordered his troops to burn the poems and crucify him on the cross and stone her to death for infidelity even though she wasnât his wife yet; it was her parents, who arranged the marriage against her wish; she chose to run away with Nathan, and they hit it off, making love day and night⊠till they captured them; they crucified him like a thief and they stoned her to death like a prostitute; even though it was a time of prosperity, some paid the price when they gave their hearts to each other, as though it were a sin to worship mortals.
Later, Nathan became a renewed painter in High Renaissance period in Florence, Megan was a young Queen, she was married to King Lorenzo. The king paid Nathan to do his wife portrait. Nathan came to the palace to do her painting, the queen removed her clothes and requested him to do her nude portrait. Nathan was smitten with her despite the fact the king, who was so envious, had warned him nether to look at her in the eyes nor be deceived by her charm; he couldnât help falling in love with her, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. And since he couldnât do the portrait at the palace, he invited her to his chateau and did her nude portrait before they got involved in a passionate love affair under the kingâs nose. Megan told her friends that Nathan was the best lover that sheâd ever had. Eventually, the king found out about it, and upon contemplating on the punishment that he believed was appropriate for the misconduct and feeling rage, he gave the order to burn every painting that was painted by Nathan and destroy all his records, as if he had never existed. The king also instructed the court Legislators to burn the queen at the stake for adultery, and whoever mentioned their names would be subjected to torture and death, so they would be no accounts of their existence.
Later, Nathan became an aspiring composer during Belle Ăpoque in France and she was a ballerina but quit after she suffered from an ankle injury and became a performer at a cabaret where he played a piano to make ends meet. Megan was involved with a man named Paul, who owned the club, and Nathan was married to a stage actress named Camille, whom he despised, because he suspected that she was fooling around with stage actors that she worked with; she always got caught in a method acting, but that didnât bother him, he was head over heels in love with Megan, he carried a torch for her; however, she was up to no good, even though she was dating Paul, she wasnât in love with him. Megan was also aware of that Nathan was smitten with her, she liked him too, one thing led to another, they seduced each other and had an affair. Megan then told Nathan that the owner had a lot of money in his safe, she wanted him to help her steal the money and ran away with her to America. Nathan helped her steal the money, she took the money from Paul at gun point. Paul tried to take the gun from her hand, she shot him in the heart and killed him by accident. Nathan and Megan took the money, got rid of the body, and came to New Orleans. They lay low in New Orleans, later, they opened a blues bar in Baton Rouge. She became a singer and he played piano. They ran a successful business. One night, Nathan and Megan danced slow as a young African American girl named Rachel (an aspiring singer), who worked as a busgirl, played piano; it was Nathan, who thought her how to played piano in his spare time, and she picked up very fast. She was also a part time singer. She sang once in a while when Megan felt drained or bored. She lived with them at the bar. Anyhow, they sent Rachel to her room and began to make love on the piano. A man named Robert, who was secretly obsessed with Megan, entered through the window, came to the main bar, shot them in cold blood, and walked away. He knew that it was gloomy. But he wanted to end it with a sad note in order to move on to the next phase.
Later, Nathan became an aspiring writer in New York City in the roaring twenties and Megan was a flapper. They met at an art party, hosted by Nathanâs friend Rachel, who was a surrealist. Megan came to the party with her husband Jim, who was an art collector. Nathan was smitten with her and she was attracted to him as well. Later, he ran into her at a market accidentally on purpose. She was happy to see him. They shopped together, she bought a dress, he bought groceries before he invited her to his house. They cooked together⊠but she couldnât stay for dinner, she had to be home, her husband would be there soon, she had to prepare dinner for him before he showed up. Nathan and Megan kissed goodbye, promised to meet again, he was left with ache in her heart, he had dinner by himself. Nathan wished that she stayed a little longer. Anyhow, later that week, they met at a museum, this time, they purchased groceries earlier, cooked together, they could have supper but instead, chose to dance slow with âYou're the topâ by Cole Porter; love had filled their souls with joy, one thing led to another, kissed like the angels in the garden of Eden and made love till they were covered with sweats. It was a steamy sex. Megan told Nathan that she was in love with him but couldnât divorce her husband, Jim wouldnât grant her no matter what, he was Catholic. The Catholic Church prohibited divorce, âWhat God had joined together let no man put asunder.â Marriage was holy, and people should think twice before they broke apart a marriage, or got divorce.
It didnât matter to them. Nathan and Megan became lovers, got involved in a passionate love affair, spent quality time, read poetry, went to jazz club, she danced till her knees trembled, they made love every romantic place they could think of, he wrote her poems, it was one of the happiest days of her life. Nathan had a blast, too. He couldnât get enough of her. She inspired him to write a new novel. It marked a high point in his life. Love changed Meganâs life as well. They went out and associated with artistic people. Megan had a lot of fun, painted the town red, and became the life of the party. However, she had to deal with her husband, who treated her like she was nothing, Jim was unpredictable, he was a jealous type, he once spited on her face for looking at a man with smile in her eyes after he paid her a thoughtful compliment, she didnât have a choice but to forgive him, because he was drunk. Now, she had a sun in her heart, she was always smiling. And luckily, Jim didnât suspect, he usually traveled to Europe to buy and sell paintings. Then one day, Megan forgot her ring at Nathanâs house, she did her best to hide her fingers from her husband, it seemed she succeeded, they went to bed without quarrel, but Jim waked up in the middle of the night to take a leak and noticed that his wife wasnât wearing the ring. He was taken aback but said nothing for the time being. Later, Jim hired a private investigator named Vaughn, who was expert at catching a cheating wife.
Vaughn photographed them kissing and gave Jim the photos. Jim lied to Megan that he was going to Paris for business. Megan spent the night at Nathanâs house, cooking, dancing⊠etc. They made love and sat in a bathtub surrounded by candles. Nathan read her few pages of his novel (the first draft), she really liked it, he asked her to leave everything behind and go to Hollywood with him. Kevin (his friend) had already found him a screenwriting job in California. Megan agreed to go to Hollywood with him. They kissed passionately. Jim and his four friends (Randel, Terry, Tyler and Rubin) stormed into the house. Jim grabbed Meganâs hair and pulled her out of the bathtub. Randel, Terry, Tyler and Rubin beat Nathan, so did Jim before they took them away. Jim burned Nathanâs novel and made Megan watch as Jim and his friend beat the daylights out of him. Rubin was holding Megan. She wanted to intervene. But Rubin held her firmly. Megan begged them to stop hurting him. They ignored her, as if she was a ghost that had no business there, they continued to beat him within an inch of his life and threw him in a river. Jim then flagellated Megan with a whip till her skin peeled off from her back, cut her face with a knife, disfiguring her look, and threw her at a hospital without a single drop of cloth.
The paramedics rushed her to emergency room, the doctors stopped the bleed, cleaned her cuts, stitched them, patched up her wounds and safe her life. Meanwhile, a good Samaritan fetched Nathan out of the water, took him to his house, and restored him to health. On the other hand, Megan, who was disfigured badly, recovered from her injury but fell into depression and killed herself, thinking that Nathan wouldnât love her like how he used to. Nathan, who was grief-stricken by her death, killed her husband and his friends (one by one). But the police shot and killed him as he tried to escape. Nathan was the first Americanâs most wanted for a wrong reason but the right cause. The police thought that he was a serial killer. He came to their houses in the middle of the night, cut their chests, removed their hearts and roasted their hearts with fire till it was black. He then put their hearts back in their chests and stitched the skins back; it was how he felt, they took his light away and his heart became dark, and they paid dearly. The police didnât know the cause of their deaths till they did autopsies. It became a big news. Every law enforcement agent in New York City came after him. It was what it was. Their lives must have been filled with romance, passion, love, longing, violent, sex, crime and scandal.
Love was one of the basic necessities of life, but at the same time, it was full of mystery. Nathan knew that he had no control over it but hoped he gained some knowledge of his heart before it was too late - the source of joy and pain, euphoria and heartache, and pleasure and melancholy. Love had taken him to a place, where even fools feared to tread, "with nothing underfoot, with nothing around, without pandemonium, without much belief in his own right, and still less in that of his adversary" like Heart of darkness by Joseph Conrad... except it had a blissful atmosphere. The stars were spectators. There was glory, there was the great desire of victory, there was fear of losing control, but he had a strong faith; he believed "When we wanted it bad, all the universe conspires in helping us achieving it." Nathan was willing to die for her; he loved her from the bottom of his heart and he did not understand why a girl wanted to run away from a heart that wanted to nurture her day and night. She was the love of his life. He thought that he could have placed his trust on her forever and ever. She would never let me down, would she? It didnât matter at all. Nathan still had a beautiful opinion of her. He wanted to make her happy with no string attached. She was his queen. He wouldnât betray her trust. But the demons in his head told him Why would anyone want to give their heart to a girl who was no-good? As an artist, he had to ask himself how he would be remembered. But as a man, he should always strive for respect. If they didn't respect him, they wouldn't fear him. And if they didn't fear him, they would take him for granted. And if they took him for granted, they would destroy him. He didnât want that, did he? They wanted him to imagine giving his heart and soul to a girl that he thought that she needed him. And he then discovered that he meant nothing to her. Megan was nothing but trouble. If he forgot her, he would do his heart a great service. But Nathan knew Megan was his Sunshine. He didnât care about respect. Respect had nothing to do with love. His heart needed her. It would stop beating if anything happened to her. He thought the demons in his head liked to talk nonsense. Megan was a treasure, which his heart sought restlessly the moment he laid eyes on her. Nathan thought that they could take the world by storm; together they would have become legends. And in the future, the world would look up to them like Romeo and Juliet or Cleopatra and Mark Antony or Tristan and Iseult. The truth was there was nothing like Megan in the history of creation, she was out of this world, if she came from any era, she must have come from the future millions of light years away.
Nathan didn't think that it was fair. Her eyes were sparkling like stars that the angels collected from the most celestial part of heaven and sprinkled them in two mysterious seas that dwelled in the air, which in themselves were belonged to the goddess of love, beauty, desire, and all aspects of sexuality, who granted anyone's wish in the count of seven. Megan, worrying about what was going on in the world and things that might put her life in danger, slept with ache in her heart and dreamed of dancing with a stranger. She woke up in the morning with butterflies in her belly. She took a sip from a coffee with brown sugar, hazelnut, and cinnamon concoction while it was still steaming. She didnât put it down like an item that she purchased at the auction. She had one sip after another till love filled her irises with maple syrup, chocolate, honey, gold and diamonds; beaming. He could see his soul dilating in her eyes and hear his heart screaming. Nathan worshipped her like how the ancient Egyptians idolized the sun, having confidence in its heat and light, which it bestowed upon the world, and believing that it would deliver them from darkness as long as they continued to pray sincerely and honor it with gifts or make sacrifices... such as killing animals in a religious ceremony; they depended on it even though it was only 1 star out of the countless bright objects in the universe... except Nathan believes that she was 1 in an infinity. There were nothing like her in the universe...
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Djoser hired an assassin after Megan refused to marry him. She came to Nathanâs house to visit him. The assassin, who had followed her, flashed a knife and stopped her dead in her tracks, and when he was about to stab her in the stomach, out of nowhere came Nathan and held his hand. In the ensuing straggle, Nathan stabbed him in the liver with the same knife and killed him. The officials arrested Nathan. Djoser ordered for his execution, but Megan told him that she would marry him if Djoser pardoned Nathan. Djoser pardoned Nathan but made him a slave; he was forced to build a pyramid. Megan, who was now a queen, visited him every chance she got despite the fact Djoser had warned her not to get involved with him, she also refused to sleep with her nephew, she didnât love him, Djoser, who was only interested in power, didnât mind at all; he didnât have feelings for Megan either and chose to have a son with another woman after an oracle told him a child with Megan might potentially result in a Hemophilia and the death of the offspring. And during the plagues, even though the bible said that God killed firstborn of children, he didnât kill the pharaohâs son; in fact, he didnât kill children at all, they only got sick, it was a deadly disease (similar to smallpox) that might have been responsible for the death of those, who had a weak immune system, without discriminating first, second or third born and so on. But Megan, who was a doctor, got it under control, and in the height of political turmoil, finally, the Pharaoh (Djoser) allowed the Israelites to leave Egypt. Megan freed Nathan, they put normal clothes, joined the Israelites, left Egypt through red sea, rested in Sinai Desert, and later discovered Jerusalem.
Nathan then became a sculptor around 440 BC in Athens and Megan was the beautiful daughter of a merchant - Lysias. He caught a glimpse of her, did a sculpture of her, and kissed it every day. Her father wanted her to marry a young business man named Thucydides, who was making name for himself. Aeschylus, Thucydidesâ father, was a good friend of Lysias (her father). Thucydides had a thing for her, she told her father that she was in love with a sculptor named Nathan, whom she secretly saw doing her sculpture and kissing it on the lips while visiting her friend (Diana), whom happened to be his neighbor, she wanted to be with him. Her father respected her wish. Megan met Nathan in a garden, they spent quality time, as a matter of fact, they hit it off; kissing, caressing, and making love like the gods and goddesses in the Garden of Eternal love. Thucydides, who fancied her, confronted Nathan, they had a duel, Nathan killed him in self-defense. The officials charged him for murder, Megan, who served as his lawyer, defended him; it was Thucydides, who started the fight, Nathan was standing up to a bully, the juries found him not guilty, he was acquitted of all charges, the judge sent him home. Nathan and Megan got married, but Euripides (Thucydidesâ brother), who wanted to avenge his brother and had vowed to kill both Nathan and Megan, came to their house in the middle of the night with a couple of hoodlums, they beat them mercilessly, tied them with ropes, rinsed the house with gas. Euripides said, eye for an eye, and set the house on fire while they were still in the house knotted. The Greek might have invented tragedy and death seemed inevitable, but luckily, Nathan freed himself, untied Megan, and they exited right before the house was about to be engulfed with flames. Eventually, Nathan confronted Euripides, they got in a sword fight, Nathan stabbed him in the lungs and killed him. Unfortunately, Euripidesâ wife Tara was the daughter of an important politician named Hippias, Hippias was upset that Nathan left his daughter without a husband, used his influence, the Greek court persecuted him to the fullest extent of the law, the judge gave him a death penalty, he was executed in public. Megan died of grief as well. Later, Nathan returned as a poet in 10 BC in the golden age of Rome, Megan was a princess. Nathan fell in love with her and wrote a million of poems, but she was engaged to a powerful emperor named Caesar. Caesar ordered his troops to burn the poems and crucify him on the cross and stone her to death for infidelity even though she wasnât his wife yet; it was her parents, who arranged the marriage against her wish; she chose to run away with Nathan, and they hit it off, making love day and night⊠till they captured them; they crucified him like a thief and they stoned her to death like a prostitute; even though it was a time of prosperity, some paid the price when they gave their hearts to each other, as though it were a sin to worship mortals.
Later, Nathan became a renewed painter in High Renaissance period in Florence, Megan was a young Queen, she was married to King Lorenzo. The king paid Nathan to do his wife portrait. Nathan came to the palace to do her painting, the queen removed her clothes and requested him to do her nude portrait. Nathan was smitten with her despite the fact the king, who was so envious, had warned him nether to look at her in the eyes nor be deceived by her charm; he couldnât help falling in love with her, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. And since he couldnât do the portrait at the palace, he invited her to his chateau and did her nude portrait before they got involved in a passionate love affair under the kingâs nose. Megan told her friends that Nathan was the best lover that sheâd ever had. Eventually, the king found out about it, and upon contemplating on the punishment that he believed was appropriate for the misconduct and feeling rage, he gave the order to burn every painting that was painted by Nathan and destroy all his records, as if he had never existed. The king also instructed the court Legislators to burn the queen at the stake for adultery, and whoever mentioned their names would be subjected to torture and death, so they would be no accounts of their existence.
Later, Nathan became an aspiring composer during Belle Ăpoque in France and she was a ballerina but quit after she suffered from an ankle injury and became a performer at a cabaret where he played a piano to make ends meet. Megan was involved with a man named Paul, who owned the club, and Nathan was married to a stage actress named Camille, whom he despised, because he suspected that she was fooling around with stage actors that she worked with; she always got caught in a method acting, but that didnât bother him, he was head over heels in love with Megan, he carried a torch for her; however, she was up to no good, even though she was dating Paul, she wasnât in love with him. Megan was also aware of that Nathan was smitten with her, she liked him too, one thing led to another, they seduced each other and had an affair. Megan then told Nathan that the owner had a lot of money in his safe, she wanted him to help her steal the money and ran away with her to America. Nathan helped her steal the money, she took the money from Paul at gun point. Paul tried to take the gun from her hand, she shot him in the heart and killed him by accident. Nathan and Megan took the money, got rid of the body, and came to New Orleans. They lay low in New Orleans, later, they opened a blues bar in Baton Rouge. She became a singer and he played piano. They ran a successful business. One night, Nathan and Megan danced slow as a young African American girl named Rachel (an aspiring singer), who worked as a busgirl, played piano; it was Nathan, who thought her how to played piano in his spare time, and she picked up very fast. She was also a part time singer. She sang once in a while when Megan felt drained or bored. She lived with them at the bar. Anyhow, they sent Rachel to her room and began to make love on the piano. A man named Robert, who was secretly obsessed with Megan, entered through the window, came to the main bar, shot them in cold blood, and walked away. He knew that it was gloomy. But he wanted to end it with a sad note in order to move on to the next phase.
Later, Nathan became an aspiring writer in New York City in the roaring twenties and Megan was a flapper. They met at an art party, hosted by Nathanâs friend Rachel, who was a surrealist. Megan came to the party with her husband Jim, who was an art collector. Nathan was smitten with her and she was attracted to him as well. Later, he ran into her at a market accidentally on purpose. She was happy to see him. They shopped together, she bought a dress, he bought groceries before he invited her to his house. They cooked together⊠but she couldnât stay for dinner, she had to be home, her husband would be there soon, she had to prepare dinner for him before he showed up. Nathan and Megan kissed goodbye, promised to meet again, he was left with ache in her heart, he had dinner by himself. Nathan wished that she stayed a little longer. Anyhow, later that week, they met at a museum, this time, they purchased groceries earlier, cooked together, they could have supper but instead, chose to dance slow with âYou're the topâ by Cole Porter; love had filled their souls with joy, one thing led to another, kissed like the angels in the garden of Eden and made love till they were covered with sweats. It was a steamy sex. Megan told Nathan that she was in love with him but couldnât divorce her husband, Jim wouldnât grant her no matter what, he was Catholic. The Catholic Church prohibited divorce, âWhat God had joined together let no man put asunder.â Marriage was holy, and people should think twice before they broke apart a marriage, or got divorce.
It didnât matter to them. Nathan and Megan became lovers, got involved in a passionate love affair, spent quality time, read poetry, went to jazz club, she danced till her knees trembled, they made love every romantic place they could think of, he wrote her poems, it was one of the happiest days of her life. Nathan had a blast, too. He couldnât get enough of her. She inspired him to write a new novel. It marked a high point in his life. Love changed Meganâs life as well. They went out and associated with artistic people. Megan had a lot of fun, painted the town red, and became the life of the party. However, she had to deal with her husband, who treated her like she was nothing, Jim was unpredictable, he was a jealous type, he once spited on her face for looking at a man with smile in her eyes after he paid her a thoughtful compliment, she didnât have a choice but to forgive him, because he was drunk. Now, she had a sun in her heart, she was always smiling. And luckily, Jim didnât suspect, he usually traveled to Europe to buy and sell paintings. Then one day, Megan forgot her ring at Nathanâs house, she did her best to hide her fingers from her husband, it seemed she succeeded, they went to bed without quarrel, but Jim waked up in the middle of the night to take a leak and noticed that his wife wasnât wearing the ring. He was taken aback but said nothing for the time being. Later, Jim hired a private investigator named Vaughn, who was expert at catching a cheating wife.
Vaughn photographed them kissing and gave Jim the photos. Jim lied to Megan that he was going to Paris for business. Megan spent the night at Nathanâs house, cooking, dancing⊠etc. They made love and sat in a bathtub surrounded by candles. Nathan read her few pages of his novel (the first draft), she really liked it, he asked her to leave everything behind and go to Hollywood with him. Kevin (his friend) had already found him a screenwriting job in California. Megan agreed to go to Hollywood with him. They kissed passionately. Jim and his four friends (Randel, Terry, Tyler and Rubin) stormed into the house. Jim grabbed Meganâs hair and pulled her out of the bathtub. Randel, Terry, Tyler and Rubin beat Nathan, so did Jim before they took them away. Jim burned Nathanâs novel and made Megan watch as Jim and his friend beat the daylights out of him. Rubin was holding Megan. She wanted to intervene. But Rubin held her firmly. Megan begged them to stop hurting him. They ignored her, as if she was a ghost that had no business there, they continued to beat him within an inch of his life and threw him in a river. Jim then flagellated Megan with a whip till her skin peeled off from her back, cut her face with a knife, disfiguring her look, and threw her at a hospital without a single drop of cloth.
The paramedics rushed her to emergency room, the doctors stopped the bleed, cleaned her cuts, stitched them, patched up her wounds and safe her life. Meanwhile, a good Samaritan fetched Nathan out of the water, took him to his house, and restored him to health. On the other hand, Megan, who was disfigured badly, recovered from her injury but fell into depression and killed herself, thinking that Nathan wouldnât love her like how he used to. Nathan, who was grief-stricken by her death, killed her husband and his friends (one by one). But the police shot and killed him as he tried to escape. Nathan was the first Americanâs most wanted for a wrong reason but the right cause. The police thought that he was a serial killer. He came to their houses in the middle of the night, cut their chests, removed their hearts and roasted their hearts with fire till it was black. He then put their hearts back in their chests and stitched the skins back; it was how he felt, they took his light away and his heart became dark, and they paid dearly. The police didnât know the cause of their deaths till they did autopsies. It became a big news. Every law enforcement agent in New York City came after him. It was what it was. Their lives must have been filled with romance, passion, love, longing, violent, sex, crime and scandal.
Love was one of the basic necessities of life, but at the same time, it was full of mystery. Nathan knew that he had no control over it but hoped he gained some knowledge of his heart before it was too late - the source of joy and pain, euphoria and heartache, and pleasure and melancholy. Love had taken him to a place, where even fools feared to tread, "with nothing underfoot, with nothing around, without pandemonium, without much belief in his own right, and still less in that of his adversary" like Heart of darkness by Joseph Conrad... except it had a blissful atmosphere. The stars were spectators. There was glory, there was the great desire of victory, there was fear of losing control, but he had a strong faith; he believed "When we wanted it bad, all the universe conspires in helping us achieving it." Nathan was willing to die for her; he loved her from the bottom of his heart and he did not understand why a girl wanted to run away from a heart that wanted to nurture her day and night. She was the love of his life. He thought that he could have placed his trust on her forever and ever. She would never let me down, would she? It didnât matter at all. Nathan still had a beautiful opinion of her. He wanted to make her happy with no string attached. She was his queen. He wouldnât betray her trust. But the demons in his head told him Why would anyone want to give their heart to a girl who was no-good? As an artist, he had to ask himself how he would be remembered. But as a man, he should always strive for respect. If they didn't respect him, they wouldn't fear him. And if they didn't fear him, they would take him for granted. And if they took him for granted, they would destroy him. He didnât want that, did he? They wanted him to imagine giving his heart and soul to a girl that he thought that she needed him. And he then discovered that he meant nothing to her. Megan was nothing but trouble. If he forgot her, he would do his heart a great service. But Nathan knew Megan was his Sunshine. He didnât care about respect. Respect had nothing to do with love. His heart needed her. It would stop beating if anything happened to her. He thought the demons in his head liked to talk nonsense. Megan was a treasure, which his heart sought restlessly the moment he laid eyes on her. Nathan thought that they could take the world by storm; together they would have become legends. And in the future, the world would look up to them like Romeo and Juliet or Cleopatra and Mark Antony or Tristan and Iseult. The truth was there was nothing like Megan in the history of creation, she was out of this world, if she came from any era, she must have come from the future millions of light years away.
Nathan didn't think that it was fair. Her eyes were sparkling like stars that the angels collected from the most celestial part of heaven and sprinkled them in two mysterious seas that dwelled in the air, which in themselves were belonged to the goddess of love, beauty, desire, and all aspects of sexuality, who granted anyone's wish in the count of seven. Megan, worrying about what was going on in the world and things that might put her life in danger, slept with ache in her heart and dreamed of dancing with a stranger. She woke up in the morning with butterflies in her belly. She took a sip from a coffee with brown sugar, hazelnut, and cinnamon concoction while it was still steaming. She didnât put it down like an item that she purchased at the auction. She had one sip after another till love filled her irises with maple syrup, chocolate, honey, gold and diamonds; beaming. He could see his soul dilating in her eyes and hear his heart screaming. Nathan worshipped her like how the ancient Egyptians idolized the sun, having confidence in its heat and light, which it bestowed upon the world, and believing that it would deliver them from darkness as long as they continued to pray sincerely and honor it with gifts or make sacrifices... such as killing animals in a religious ceremony; they depended on it even though it was only 1 star out of the countless bright objects in the universe... except Nathan believes that she was 1 in an infinity. There were nothing like her in the universe...
2024.03.28 20:02 cryptomir Best Books About Daily Life in Ancient Egypt
Iâve been diving deep into the world of ancient civilizations lately, and let me tell you, ancient Egypt has been an absolute rabbit hole of fascination for me. Thereâs just something about the pyramids, the pharaohs, and the overall mystique of their daily life that captures the imagination. It's not just about the grand monuments and mummies; itâs the everyday life of the people, their culture, and their routines that have me hooked.
If youâre anything like me, craving to know more about what life was really like for the average Joe (or should I say, the average Horus?) in ancient Egypt, Iâve got some book recommendations that have seriously opened my eyes. These reads go beyond the surface-level history and dive into the nitty-gritty of daily existence in one of historyâs most intriguing civilizations. Let's explore the banks of the Nile together through these fascinating books.
Diving into these books has made ancient Egypt come alive for me in a way that history classes never did. Itâs the daily grind, the household gods, the love poems scribbled on pottery shards that really make the past feel tangible.
Got any favorites or recommendations on ancient civilizations that have caught your imagination? I'm always down to expand my reading list and share this journey into the past with others. Letâs keep exploring together!
submitted by cryptomir to WhatToRead [link] [comments]
If youâre anything like me, craving to know more about what life was really like for the average Joe (or should I say, the average Horus?) in ancient Egypt, Iâve got some book recommendations that have seriously opened my eyes. These reads go beyond the surface-level history and dive into the nitty-gritty of daily existence in one of historyâs most intriguing civilizations. Let's explore the banks of the Nile together through these fascinating books.
"The Rise and Fall of Ancient Egypt" by Toby Wilkinson
While Wilkinson gives you the grand narrative of ancient Egypt, he also delves into the daily life and social structures that defined the era. Itâs a comprehensive look at the political and personal realms of ancient Egyptian society, making the past feel incredibly present."Red Land, Black Land: Daily Life in Ancient Egypt" by Barbara Mertz
Mertz, an Egyptologist by trade, offers a lively and engaging look at the people who lived in the Land of the Pharaohs. From their domestic lives to their spiritual beliefs, this book is a captivating glimpse into the world of ancient Egyptians, making their world accessible and real."The Egyptians" by Sergio Donadoni
This collection of essays by various experts brings together insights into different aspects of Egyptian life, from their literature to their legal system. It paints a detailed picture of how diverse and vibrant life was along the Nile."Temples, Tombs, and Hieroglyphs: A Popular History of Ancient Egypt" by Barbara Mertz
Mertz makes another appearance on this list with a book thatâs both informative and incredibly fun to read. This one provides more context on the religious and cultural aspects of ancient Egyptian life, offering stories of exploration and discovery along the way."Daily Life of the Egyptian Gods" by Dimitri Meeks and Christine Favard-Meeks
For a slightly different angle, this book dives into the religious life of ancient Egyptians by exploring the daily lives of their gods. Understanding the gods gives us insight into the values, hopes, and fears of the people who worshipped them."Egyptian Homes" by Alix Wilkinson
This book offers an archaeological perspective on what homes in ancient Egypt were like, from the palaces of pharaohs to the simple dwellings of the common people. Itâs a fascinating look at the physical spaces where daily life unfolded."The Secret Lore of Egypt: Its Impact on the West" by Erik Hornung
While not exclusively about daily life, Hornungâs work explores the lasting influence of ancient Egyptian culture on Western civilization. Understanding this influence gives depth to our knowledge of ancient Egyptâs everyday cultural practices and beliefs."Magic in Ancient Egypt" by Geraldine Pinch
Pinch reveals the importance of magic in everyday ancient Egyptian life. From protection spells to the rituals for the dead, this book shows how intertwined the spiritual and the mundane were for the people of ancient Egypt."Village Life in Ancient Egypt: Laundry Lists and Love Songs" by A.G. McDowell
Focusing on the workaday world of ancient Egyptians, McDowell uses texts from the workers who built the tombs in the Valley of the Kings to paint a picture of everyday concerns and joys, from doing laundry to writing love songs."Sports and Games of Ancient Egypt" by Wolfgang Decker
This book explores the leisurely aspects of ancient Egyptian life, showcasing the sports and games that entertained the people of the Nile. Itâs a unique look at the fun and competitive spirit of this ancient civilization.Diving into these books has made ancient Egypt come alive for me in a way that history classes never did. Itâs the daily grind, the household gods, the love poems scribbled on pottery shards that really make the past feel tangible.
Got any favorites or recommendations on ancient civilizations that have caught your imagination? I'm always down to expand my reading list and share this journey into the past with others. Letâs keep exploring together!
2024.03.28 08:56 adulting4kids More Types of Poems
- Terza Rima: A poetic form consisting of tercets (three-line stanzas) with interwoven rhymes, often used by Dante in "The Divine Comedy."
- Clerihew: A humorous and whimsical poem of four lines, with irregular meter and rhymes, focusing on a person, often the poet.
- Triolet: An eight-line poem with a specific rhyme scheme (ABaAabAB), featuring repeated lines.
- Ballad: A narrative poem often set to music, telling a story with a strong rhythm and rhyme.
- Renga: A collaborative form of Japanese linked-verse poetry, typically composed by multiple poets in alternating stanzas.
- Senryu: Similar to haiku, but focuses on human nature and emotions rather than nature itself.
- Paradelle: A complex and rare form of poetry that repeats lines with variations, creating a challenging structure.
- Golden Shovel: A form where each word in a line of an existing poem is used as the end word in a line of the new poem.
- Haibun: A combination of prose and haiku, often describing a journey or a nature experience.
- Villancico: A medieval Spanish poetic form often used in songs and carols, characterized by repetition and refrains.
- Palindrome Poetry: A poem that reads the same backward as forward, creating a mirrored effect.
- Blackout Poetry: Creating poetry by selectively redacting or highlighting words from an existing text, often creating a visual element.
- Tetractys: A five-line poem with a syllable count of 1, 2, 3, 4, 10, creating a pyramid shape.
- Rubaiyat: A Persian form of poetry with quatrains, typically written in iambic pentameter with the rhyme scheme AABA.
- Fibonacci Poem: A poem following the Fibonacci sequence for syllable counts in each line (0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, etc.).
- Calligram: A visual poem in which the words or letters are arranged in a shape that reflects the poem's subject.
- Shape Poetry: Poems that take on a visual shape related to their subject, enhancing the overall meaning.
- Tanka Prose: A prose poem followed by a tanka, combining the concise nature of prose with the emotional depth of tanka.
- Found Poetry: Creating poetry from existing texts or found materials, rearranging and recontextualizing words.
- Blitz Poem: A form of poetry with a rapid, stream-of-consciousness style, using repetition and wordplay.
- Sevenling: A seven-line poem with specific guidelines, including three lines with three elements, and a concluding statement in one line.
- Pantun: A Malay poetic form with quatrains, featuring an interlocking rhyme scheme between stanzas.
- Cento: A collage-like poem composed entirely of lines from other poems.
- Cinquain Chain: Connecting multiple cinquains to create a longer poem or narrative.
- Rhyme Royal: A seven-line stanza with a specific rhyme scheme (ABABBCC), used by Geoffrey Chaucer.
- Haiga: A combination of haiku and visual art, where an image complements the haiku.
- Minute Poem: A strict 60-syllable poem with a 8-4-4-4 structure and specific rhyme scheme (aabb).
- Nonet: A nine-line poem with a descending syllable count in each line, often 9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1.
- Tanka Tumble: A series of linked tanka poems, creating a flowing narrative.
- Dramatic Monologue: A poem in which a character speaks directly to an audience, revealing their thoughts and emotions.
2024.03.21 08:56 adulting4kids More Types of Poems
- Terza Rima: A poetic form consisting of tercets (three-line stanzas) with interwoven rhymes, often used by Dante in "The Divine Comedy."
- Clerihew: A humorous and whimsical poem of four lines, with irregular meter and rhymes, focusing on a person, often the poet.
- Triolet: An eight-line poem with a specific rhyme scheme (ABaAabAB), featuring repeated lines.
- Ballad: A narrative poem often set to music, telling a story with a strong rhythm and rhyme.
- Renga: A collaborative form of Japanese linked-verse poetry, typically composed by multiple poets in alternating stanzas.
- Senryu: Similar to haiku, but focuses on human nature and emotions rather than nature itself.
- Paradelle: A complex and rare form of poetry that repeats lines with variations, creating a challenging structure.
- Golden Shovel: A form where each word in a line of an existing poem is used as the end word in a line of the new poem.
- Haibun: A combination of prose and haiku, often describing a journey or a nature experience.
- Villancico: A medieval Spanish poetic form often used in songs and carols, characterized by repetition and refrains.
- Palindrome Poetry: A poem that reads the same backward as forward, creating a mirrored effect.
- Blackout Poetry: Creating poetry by selectively redacting or highlighting words from an existing text, often creating a visual element.
- Tetractys: A five-line poem with a syllable count of 1, 2, 3, 4, 10, creating a pyramid shape.
- Rubaiyat: A Persian form of poetry with quatrains, typically written in iambic pentameter with the rhyme scheme AABA.
- Fibonacci Poem: A poem following the Fibonacci sequence for syllable counts in each line (0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, etc.).
- Calligram: A visual poem in which the words or letters are arranged in a shape that reflects the poem's subject.
- Shape Poetry: Poems that take on a visual shape related to their subject, enhancing the overall meaning.
- Tanka Prose: A prose poem followed by a tanka, combining the concise nature of prose with the emotional depth of tanka.
- Found Poetry: Creating poetry from existing texts or found materials, rearranging and recontextualizing words.
- Blitz Poem: A form of poetry with a rapid, stream-of-consciousness style, using repetition and wordplay.
- Sevenling: A seven-line poem with specific guidelines, including three lines with three elements, and a concluding statement in one line.
- Pantun: A Malay poetic form with quatrains, featuring an interlocking rhyme scheme between stanzas.
- Cento: A collage-like poem composed entirely of lines from other poems.
- Cinquain Chain: Connecting multiple cinquains to create a longer poem or narrative.
- Rhyme Royal: A seven-line stanza with a specific rhyme scheme (ABABBCC), used by Geoffrey Chaucer.
- Haiga: A combination of haiku and visual art, where an image complements the haiku.
- Minute Poem: A strict 60-syllable poem with a 8-4-4-4 structure and specific rhyme scheme (aabb).
- Nonet: A nine-line poem with a descending syllable count in each line, often 9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1.
- Tanka Tumble: A series of linked tanka poems, creating a flowing narrative.
- Dramatic Monologue: A poem in which a character speaks directly to an audience, revealing their thoughts and emotions.
2024.03.15 08:27 braveheartt101 Dangerous Love 5 (Bonus) Happy International Women's Month
Nathan adored Megan. But did he love her with the patience of a saint or the passion of the devil? Perhaps, it didnât make a difference. She wasnât there with him to be loved or hated, she ran away, and he still loved her, as if she were there with him and craved for her kisses, as if they were part of his respiratory system and her lips were the source of carbohydrate. Not just any carbohydrate but pure sugar, and he wanted to kiss her till his heart absorbed every sweetness in her essence, kiss her French till his blood sugar was high, and his liver stored the sugar as glycogen, and converted it to glucose as the muscles in his tongue and lips continued to burn calories before he even parted his lips from her sweet lips, kiss her, and kiss her and kiss her till his soul caught fire. Nathan didnât believe in the past life, but if there were one, he thought that they invented kiss, it was him and her, who started it all, they sat under the tree, and bill and coo, and kissed for the very first time in the history of humankind, it must have been around 15000 BC, they were love hero and heroine, he was half god and half man, she was a nymph, they changed how people looked at romance. They kissed till their heart turned into roses, covered with due droplets. The gods and goddesses got jealous and made them mortals. It didnât stop there. He was a warrior in the kingdom of Egypt around 3100 BC, he won many battles, riding a chariot and shooting arrows with a bow and all; she was the beautiful daughter of a pharaoh Tutankhamun. Nathan saw her when he came to have few words with her father and fell in love with her. Meanwhile, she had a dream about walking in the desert barefoot and she stumbled upon a red rose, picked the flower up, and smell it before Sandstrom twirled around her, out of nowhere came a Bedouin in a winged unicorn, picked her up, placed her on the unicorn, and rescued her, they escaped flying in the sky. The pharaoh brought an oracle to interpret the dream, the oracle said that her heart belonged to a warrior, but her life was in great danger; the rose was love and sandstorm meant trouble. Megan admitted that she was in love with Nathan, she wanted to marry him. Upon hearing that news, her uncle Ramses, who desired his son Djoser to rule Egypt, conspired against them, saying that Nathan wasnât a royal blood, so he couldnât marry her, his son Djoser was chosen by gods to marry his brotherâs daughter and together they should rule Egypt. At the same time, Moses wanted to free the Israelites, there were too many things going on back then, Pharaohâs relatives were hungry for power, law makers wanted to increase tax in order to build government buildings and conflicts between political parties fighting for the throne.
Djoser hired an assassin after Megan refused to marry him. She came to Nathanâs house to visit him. The assassin, who had followed her, flashed a knife and stopped her dead in her tracks, and when he was about to stab her in the stomach, out of nowhere came Nathan and held his hand. In the ensuing straggle, Nathan stabbed him in the liver with the same knife and killed him. The officials arrested Nathan. Djoser ordered for his execution, but Megan told him that she would marry him if Djoser pardoned Nathan. Djoser pardoned Nathan but made him a slave; he was forced to build a pyramid. Megan, who was now a queen, visited him every chance she got despite the fact Djoser had warned her not to get involved with him, she also refused to sleep with her nephew, she didnât love him, Djoser, who was only interested in power, didnât mind at all; he didnât have feelings for Megan either and chose to have a son with another woman after an oracle told him a child with Megan might potentially result in a Hemophilia and the death of the offspring. And during the plagues, even though the bible said that God killed firstborn of children, he didnât kill the pharaohâs son; in fact, he didnât kill children at all, they only got sick, it was a deadly disease (similar to smallpox) that might have been responsible for the death of those, who had a weak immune system, without discriminating first, second or third born and so on. But Megan, who was a doctor, got it under control, and in the height of political turmoil, finally, the Pharaoh (Djoser) allowed the Israelites to leave Egypt. Megan freed Nathan, they put normal clothes, joined the Israelites, left Egypt through red sea, rested in Sinai Desert, and later discovered Jerusalem.
Nathan then became a sculptor around 440 BC in Athens and Megan was the beautiful daughter of a merchant - Lysias. He caught a glimpse of her, did a sculpture of her, and kissed it every day. Her father wanted her to marry a young business man named Thucydides, who was making name for himself. Aeschylus, Thucydidesâ father, was a good friend of Lysias (her father). Thucydides had a thing for her, she told her father that she was in love with a sculptor named Nathan, whom she secretly saw doing her sculpture and kissing it on the lips while visiting her friend (Diana), whom happened to be his neighbor, she wanted to be with him. Her father respected her wish. Megan met Nathan in a garden, they spent quality time, as a matter of fact, they hit it off; kissing, caressing, and making love like the gods and goddesses in the Garden of Eternal love. Thucydides, who fancied her, confronted Nathan, they had a duel, Nathan killed him in self-defense. The officials charged him for murder, Megan, who served as his lawyer, defended him; it was Thucydides, who started the fight, Nathan was standing up to a bully, the juries found him not guilty, he was acquitted of all charges, the judge sent him home. Nathan and Megan got married, but Euripides (Thucydidesâ brother), who wanted to avenge his brother and had vowed to kill both Nathan and Megan, came to their house in the middle of the night with a couple of hoodlums, they beat them mercilessly, tied them with ropes, rinsed the house with gas. Euripides said, eye for an eye, and set the house on fire while they were still in the house knotted. The Greek might have invented tragedy and death seemed inevitable, but luckily, Nathan freed himself, untied Megan, and they exited right before the house was about to be engulfed with flames. Eventually, Nathan confronted Euripides, they got in a sword fight, Nathan stabbed him in the lungs and killed him. Unfortunately, Euripidesâ wife Tara was the daughter of an important politician named Hippias, Hippias was upset that Nathan left his daughter without a husband, used his influence, the Greek court persecuted him to the fullest extent of the law, the judge gave him a death penalty, he was executed in public. Megan died of grief as well. Later, Nathan returned as a poet in 10 BC in the golden age of Rome, Megan was a princess. Nathan fell in love with her and wrote a million of poems, but she was engaged to a powerful emperor named Caesar. Caesar ordered his troops to burn the poems and crucify him on the cross and stone her to death for infidelity even though she wasnât his wife yet; it was her parents, who arranged the marriage against her wish; she chose to run away with Nathan, and they hit it off, making love day and night⊠till they captured them; they crucified him like a thief and they stoned her to death like a prostitute; even though it was a time of prosperity, some paid the price when they gave their hearts to each other, as though it were a sin to worship mortals.
Later, Nathan became a renewed painter in High Renaissance period in Florence, Megan was a young Queen, she was married to King Lorenzo. The king paid Nathan to do his wife portrait. Nathan came to the palace to do her painting, the queen removed her clothes and requested him to do her nude portrait. Nathan was smitten with her despite the fact the king, who was so envious, had warned him nether to look at her in the eyes nor be deceived by her charm; he couldnât help falling in love with her, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. And since he couldnât do the portrait at the palace, he invited her to his chateau and did her nude portrait before they got involved in a passionate love affair under the kingâs nose. Megan told her friends that Nathan was the best lover that sheâd ever had. Eventually, the king found out about it, and upon contemplating on the punishment that he believed was appropriate for the misconduct and feeling rage, he gave the order to burn every painting that was painted by Nathan and destroy all his records, as if he had never existed. The king also instructed the court Legislators to burn the queen at the stake for adultery, and whoever mentioned their names would be subjected to torture and death, so they would be no accounts of their existence.
Later, Nathan became an aspiring composer during Belle Ăpoque in France and she was a ballerina but quit after she suffered from an ankle injury and became a performer at a cabaret where he played a piano to make ends meet. Megan was involved with a man named Paul, who owned the club, and Nathan was married to a stage actress named Camille, whom he despised, because he suspected that she was fooling around with stage actors that she worked with; she always got caught in a method acting, but that didnât bother him, he was head over heels in love with Megan, he carried a torch for her; however, she was up to no good, even though she was dating Paul, she wasnât in love with him. Megan was also aware of that Nathan was smitten with her, she liked him too, one thing led to another, they seduced each other and had an affair. Megan then told Nathan that the owner had a lot of money in his safe, she wanted him to help her steal the money and ran away with her to America. Nathan helped her steal the money, she took the money from Paul at gun point. Paul tried to take the gun from her hand, she shot him in the heart and killed him by accident. Nathan and Megan took the money, got rid of the body, and came to New Orleans. They lay low in New Orleans, later, they opened a blues bar in Baton Rouge. She became a singer and he played piano. They ran a successful business. One night, Nathan and Megan danced slow as a young African American girl named Rachel (an aspiring singer), who worked as a busgirl, played piano; it was Nathan, who thought her how to played piano in his spare time, and she picked up very fast. She was also a part time singer. She sang once in a while when Megan felt drained or bored. She lived with them at the bar. Anyhow, they sent Rachel to her room and began to make love on the piano. A man named Robert, who was secretly obsessed with Megan, entered through the window, came to the main bar, shot them in cold blood, and walked away. He knew that it was gloomy. But he wanted to end it with a sad note in order to move on to the next phase.
Later, Nathan became an aspiring writer in New York City in the roaring twenties and Megan was a flapper. They met at an art party, hosted by Nathanâs friend Rachel, who was a surrealist. Megan came to the party with her husband Jim, who was an art collector. Nathan was smitten with her and she was attracted to him as well. Later, he ran into her at a market accidentally on purpose. She was happy to see him. They shopped together, she bought a dress, he bought groceries before he invited her to his house. They cooked together⊠but she couldnât stay for dinner, she had to be home, her husband would be there soon, she had to prepare dinner for him before he showed up. Nathan and Megan kissed goodbye, promised to meet again, he was left with ache in her heart, he had dinner by himself. Nathan wished that she stayed a little longer. Anyhow, later that week, they met at a museum, this time, they purchased groceries earlier, cooked together, they could have supper but instead, chose to dance slow with âYou're the topâ by Cole Porter; love had filled their souls with joy, one thing led to another, kissed like the angels in the garden of Eden and made love till they were covered with sweats. It was a steamy sex. Megan told Nathan that she was in love with him but couldnât divorce her husband, Jim wouldnât grant her no matter what, he was Catholic. The Catholic Church prohibited divorce, âWhat God had joined together let no man put asunder.â Marriage was holy, and people should think twice before they broke apart a marriage, or got divorce.
It didnât matter to them. Nathan and Megan became lovers, got involved in a passionate love affair, spent quality time, read poetry, went to jazz club, she danced till her knees trembled, they made love every romantic place they could think of, he wrote her poems, it was one of the happiest days of her life. Nathan had a blast, too. He couldnât get enough of her. She inspired him to write a new novel. It marked a high point in his life. Love changed Meganâs life as well. They went out and associated with artistic people. Megan had a lot of fun, painted the town red, and became the life of the party. However, she had to deal with her husband, who treated her like she was nothing, Jim was unpredictable, he was a jealous type, he once spited on her face for looking at a man with smile in her eyes after he paid her a thoughtful compliment, she didnât have a choice but to forgive him, because he was drunk. Now, she had a sun in her heart, she was always smiling. And luckily, Jim didnât suspect, he usually traveled to Europe to buy and sell paintings. Then one day, Megan forgot her ring at Nathanâs house, she did her best to hide her fingers from her husband, it seemed she succeeded, they went to bed without quarrel, but Jim waked up in the middle of the night to take a leak and noticed that his wife wasnât wearing the ring. He was taken aback but said nothing for the time being. Later, Jim hired a private investigator named Vaughn, who was expert at catching a cheating wife.
Vaughn photographed them kissing and gave Jim the photos. Jim lied to Megan that he was going to Paris for business. Megan spent the night at Nathanâs house, cooking, dancing⊠etc. They made love and sat in a bathtub surrounded by candles. Nathan read her few pages of his novel (the first draft), she really liked it, he asked her to leave everything behind and go to Hollywood with him. Kevin (his friend) had already found him a screenwriting job in California. Megan agreed to go to Hollywood with him. They kissed passionately. Jim and his four friends (Randel, Terry, Tyler and Rubin) stormed into the house. Jim grabbed Meganâs hair and pulled her out of the bathtub. Randel, Terry, Tyler and Rubin beat Nathan, so did Jim before they took them away. Jim burned Nathanâs novel and made Megan watch as Jim and his friend beat the daylights out of him. Rubin was holding Megan. She wanted to intervene. But Rubin held her firmly. Megan begged them to stop hurting him. They ignored her, as if she was a ghost that had no business there, they continued to beat him within an inch of his life and threw him in a river. Jim then flagellated Megan with a whip till her skin peeled off from her back, cut her face with a knife, disfiguring her look, and threw her at a hospital without a single drop of cloth.
The paramedics rushed her to emergency room, the doctors stopped the bleed, cleaned her cuts, stitched them, patched up her wounds and safe her life. Meanwhile, a good Samaritan fetched Nathan out of the water, took him to his house, and restored him to health. On the other hand, Megan, who was disfigured badly, recovered from her injury but fell into depression and killed herself, thinking that Nathan wouldnât love her like how he used to. Nathan, who was grief-stricken by her death, killed her husband and his friends (one by one). But the police shot and killed him as he tried to escape. Nathan was the first Americanâs most wanted for a wrong reason but the right cause. The police thought that he was a serial killer. He came to their houses in the middle of the night, cut their chests, removed their hearts and roasted their hearts with fire till it was black. He then put their hearts back in their chests and stitched the skins back; it was how he felt, they took his light away and his heart became dark, and they paid dearly. The police didnât know the cause of their deaths till they did autopsies. It became a big news. Every law enforcement agent in New York City came after him. It was what it was. Their lives must have been filled with romance, passion, love, longing, violent, sex, crime and scandal.
Love was one of the basic necessities of life, but at the same time, it was full of mystery. Nathan knew that he had no control over it but hoped he gained some knowledge of his heart before it was too late - the source of joy and pain, euphoria and heartache, and pleasure and melancholy. Love had taken him to a place, where even fools feared to tread, "with nothing underfoot, with nothing around, without pandemonium, without much belief in his own right, and still less in that of his adversary" like Heart of darkness by Joseph Conrad... except it had a blissful atmosphere. The stars were spectators. There was glory, there was the great desire of victory, there was fear of losing control, but he had a strong faith; he believed "When we wanted it bad, all the universe conspires in helping us achieving it." Nathan was willing to die for her; he loved her from the bottom of his heart and he did not understand why a girl wanted to run away from a heart that wanted to nurture her day and night. She was the love of his life. He thought that he could have placed his trust on her forever and ever. She would never let me down, would she? It didnât matter at all. Nathan still had a beautiful opinion of her. He wanted to make her happy with no string attached. She was his queen. He wouldnât betray her trust. But the demons in his head told him Why would anyone want to give their heart to a girl who was no-good? As an artist, he had to ask himself how he would be remembered. But as a man, he should always strive for respect. If they didn't respect him, they wouldn't fear him. And if they didn't fear him, they would take him for granted. And if they took him for granted, they would destroy him. He didnât want that, did he? They wanted him to imagine giving his heart and soul to a girl that he thought that she needed him. And he then discovered that he meant nothing to her. Megan was nothing but trouble. If he forgot her, he would do his heart a great service. But Nathan knew Megan was his Sunshine. He didnât care about respect. Respect had nothing to do with love. His heart needed her. It would stop beating if anything happened to her. He thought the demons in his head liked to talk nonsense. Megan was a treasure, which his heart sought restlessly the moment he laid eyes on her. Nathan thought that they could take the world by storm; together they would have become legends. And in the future, the world would look up to them like Romeo and Juliet or Cleopatra and Mark Antony or Tristan and Iseult. The truth was there was nothing like Megan in the history of creation, she was out of this world, if she came from any era, she must have come from the future millions of light years away.
Nathan didn't think that it was fair. Her eyes were sparkling like stars that the angels collected from the most celestial part of heaven and sprinkled them in two mysterious seas that dwelled in the air, which in themselves were belonged to the goddess of love, beauty, desire, and all aspects of sexuality, who granted anyone's wish in the count of seven. Megan, worrying about what was going on in the world and things that might put her life in danger, slept with ache in her heart and dreamed of dancing with a stranger. She woke up in the morning with butterflies in her belly. She took a sip from a coffee with brown sugar, hazelnut, and cinnamon concoction while it was still steaming. She didnât put it down like an item that she purchased at the auction. She had one sip after another till love filled her irises with maple syrup, chocolate, honey, gold and diamonds; beaming. He could see his soul dilating in her eyes and hear his heart screaming. Nathan worshipped her like how the ancient Egyptians idolized the sun, having confidence in its heat and light, which it bestowed upon the world, and believing that it would deliver them from darkness as long as they continued to pray sincerely and honor it with gifts or make sacrifices... such as killing animals in a religious ceremony; they depended on it even though it was only 1 star out of the countless bright objects in the universe... except Nathan believes that she was 1 in an infinity. There were nothing like her in the universe...
submitted by braveheartt101 to Eritrea2 [link] [comments]
Djoser hired an assassin after Megan refused to marry him. She came to Nathanâs house to visit him. The assassin, who had followed her, flashed a knife and stopped her dead in her tracks, and when he was about to stab her in the stomach, out of nowhere came Nathan and held his hand. In the ensuing straggle, Nathan stabbed him in the liver with the same knife and killed him. The officials arrested Nathan. Djoser ordered for his execution, but Megan told him that she would marry him if Djoser pardoned Nathan. Djoser pardoned Nathan but made him a slave; he was forced to build a pyramid. Megan, who was now a queen, visited him every chance she got despite the fact Djoser had warned her not to get involved with him, she also refused to sleep with her nephew, she didnât love him, Djoser, who was only interested in power, didnât mind at all; he didnât have feelings for Megan either and chose to have a son with another woman after an oracle told him a child with Megan might potentially result in a Hemophilia and the death of the offspring. And during the plagues, even though the bible said that God killed firstborn of children, he didnât kill the pharaohâs son; in fact, he didnât kill children at all, they only got sick, it was a deadly disease (similar to smallpox) that might have been responsible for the death of those, who had a weak immune system, without discriminating first, second or third born and so on. But Megan, who was a doctor, got it under control, and in the height of political turmoil, finally, the Pharaoh (Djoser) allowed the Israelites to leave Egypt. Megan freed Nathan, they put normal clothes, joined the Israelites, left Egypt through red sea, rested in Sinai Desert, and later discovered Jerusalem.
Nathan then became a sculptor around 440 BC in Athens and Megan was the beautiful daughter of a merchant - Lysias. He caught a glimpse of her, did a sculpture of her, and kissed it every day. Her father wanted her to marry a young business man named Thucydides, who was making name for himself. Aeschylus, Thucydidesâ father, was a good friend of Lysias (her father). Thucydides had a thing for her, she told her father that she was in love with a sculptor named Nathan, whom she secretly saw doing her sculpture and kissing it on the lips while visiting her friend (Diana), whom happened to be his neighbor, she wanted to be with him. Her father respected her wish. Megan met Nathan in a garden, they spent quality time, as a matter of fact, they hit it off; kissing, caressing, and making love like the gods and goddesses in the Garden of Eternal love. Thucydides, who fancied her, confronted Nathan, they had a duel, Nathan killed him in self-defense. The officials charged him for murder, Megan, who served as his lawyer, defended him; it was Thucydides, who started the fight, Nathan was standing up to a bully, the juries found him not guilty, he was acquitted of all charges, the judge sent him home. Nathan and Megan got married, but Euripides (Thucydidesâ brother), who wanted to avenge his brother and had vowed to kill both Nathan and Megan, came to their house in the middle of the night with a couple of hoodlums, they beat them mercilessly, tied them with ropes, rinsed the house with gas. Euripides said, eye for an eye, and set the house on fire while they were still in the house knotted. The Greek might have invented tragedy and death seemed inevitable, but luckily, Nathan freed himself, untied Megan, and they exited right before the house was about to be engulfed with flames. Eventually, Nathan confronted Euripides, they got in a sword fight, Nathan stabbed him in the lungs and killed him. Unfortunately, Euripidesâ wife Tara was the daughter of an important politician named Hippias, Hippias was upset that Nathan left his daughter without a husband, used his influence, the Greek court persecuted him to the fullest extent of the law, the judge gave him a death penalty, he was executed in public. Megan died of grief as well. Later, Nathan returned as a poet in 10 BC in the golden age of Rome, Megan was a princess. Nathan fell in love with her and wrote a million of poems, but she was engaged to a powerful emperor named Caesar. Caesar ordered his troops to burn the poems and crucify him on the cross and stone her to death for infidelity even though she wasnât his wife yet; it was her parents, who arranged the marriage against her wish; she chose to run away with Nathan, and they hit it off, making love day and night⊠till they captured them; they crucified him like a thief and they stoned her to death like a prostitute; even though it was a time of prosperity, some paid the price when they gave their hearts to each other, as though it were a sin to worship mortals.
Later, Nathan became a renewed painter in High Renaissance period in Florence, Megan was a young Queen, she was married to King Lorenzo. The king paid Nathan to do his wife portrait. Nathan came to the palace to do her painting, the queen removed her clothes and requested him to do her nude portrait. Nathan was smitten with her despite the fact the king, who was so envious, had warned him nether to look at her in the eyes nor be deceived by her charm; he couldnât help falling in love with her, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. And since he couldnât do the portrait at the palace, he invited her to his chateau and did her nude portrait before they got involved in a passionate love affair under the kingâs nose. Megan told her friends that Nathan was the best lover that sheâd ever had. Eventually, the king found out about it, and upon contemplating on the punishment that he believed was appropriate for the misconduct and feeling rage, he gave the order to burn every painting that was painted by Nathan and destroy all his records, as if he had never existed. The king also instructed the court Legislators to burn the queen at the stake for adultery, and whoever mentioned their names would be subjected to torture and death, so they would be no accounts of their existence.
Later, Nathan became an aspiring composer during Belle Ăpoque in France and she was a ballerina but quit after she suffered from an ankle injury and became a performer at a cabaret where he played a piano to make ends meet. Megan was involved with a man named Paul, who owned the club, and Nathan was married to a stage actress named Camille, whom he despised, because he suspected that she was fooling around with stage actors that she worked with; she always got caught in a method acting, but that didnât bother him, he was head over heels in love with Megan, he carried a torch for her; however, she was up to no good, even though she was dating Paul, she wasnât in love with him. Megan was also aware of that Nathan was smitten with her, she liked him too, one thing led to another, they seduced each other and had an affair. Megan then told Nathan that the owner had a lot of money in his safe, she wanted him to help her steal the money and ran away with her to America. Nathan helped her steal the money, she took the money from Paul at gun point. Paul tried to take the gun from her hand, she shot him in the heart and killed him by accident. Nathan and Megan took the money, got rid of the body, and came to New Orleans. They lay low in New Orleans, later, they opened a blues bar in Baton Rouge. She became a singer and he played piano. They ran a successful business. One night, Nathan and Megan danced slow as a young African American girl named Rachel (an aspiring singer), who worked as a busgirl, played piano; it was Nathan, who thought her how to played piano in his spare time, and she picked up very fast. She was also a part time singer. She sang once in a while when Megan felt drained or bored. She lived with them at the bar. Anyhow, they sent Rachel to her room and began to make love on the piano. A man named Robert, who was secretly obsessed with Megan, entered through the window, came to the main bar, shot them in cold blood, and walked away. He knew that it was gloomy. But he wanted to end it with a sad note in order to move on to the next phase.
Later, Nathan became an aspiring writer in New York City in the roaring twenties and Megan was a flapper. They met at an art party, hosted by Nathanâs friend Rachel, who was a surrealist. Megan came to the party with her husband Jim, who was an art collector. Nathan was smitten with her and she was attracted to him as well. Later, he ran into her at a market accidentally on purpose. She was happy to see him. They shopped together, she bought a dress, he bought groceries before he invited her to his house. They cooked together⊠but she couldnât stay for dinner, she had to be home, her husband would be there soon, she had to prepare dinner for him before he showed up. Nathan and Megan kissed goodbye, promised to meet again, he was left with ache in her heart, he had dinner by himself. Nathan wished that she stayed a little longer. Anyhow, later that week, they met at a museum, this time, they purchased groceries earlier, cooked together, they could have supper but instead, chose to dance slow with âYou're the topâ by Cole Porter; love had filled their souls with joy, one thing led to another, kissed like the angels in the garden of Eden and made love till they were covered with sweats. It was a steamy sex. Megan told Nathan that she was in love with him but couldnât divorce her husband, Jim wouldnât grant her no matter what, he was Catholic. The Catholic Church prohibited divorce, âWhat God had joined together let no man put asunder.â Marriage was holy, and people should think twice before they broke apart a marriage, or got divorce.
It didnât matter to them. Nathan and Megan became lovers, got involved in a passionate love affair, spent quality time, read poetry, went to jazz club, she danced till her knees trembled, they made love every romantic place they could think of, he wrote her poems, it was one of the happiest days of her life. Nathan had a blast, too. He couldnât get enough of her. She inspired him to write a new novel. It marked a high point in his life. Love changed Meganâs life as well. They went out and associated with artistic people. Megan had a lot of fun, painted the town red, and became the life of the party. However, she had to deal with her husband, who treated her like she was nothing, Jim was unpredictable, he was a jealous type, he once spited on her face for looking at a man with smile in her eyes after he paid her a thoughtful compliment, she didnât have a choice but to forgive him, because he was drunk. Now, she had a sun in her heart, she was always smiling. And luckily, Jim didnât suspect, he usually traveled to Europe to buy and sell paintings. Then one day, Megan forgot her ring at Nathanâs house, she did her best to hide her fingers from her husband, it seemed she succeeded, they went to bed without quarrel, but Jim waked up in the middle of the night to take a leak and noticed that his wife wasnât wearing the ring. He was taken aback but said nothing for the time being. Later, Jim hired a private investigator named Vaughn, who was expert at catching a cheating wife.
Vaughn photographed them kissing and gave Jim the photos. Jim lied to Megan that he was going to Paris for business. Megan spent the night at Nathanâs house, cooking, dancing⊠etc. They made love and sat in a bathtub surrounded by candles. Nathan read her few pages of his novel (the first draft), she really liked it, he asked her to leave everything behind and go to Hollywood with him. Kevin (his friend) had already found him a screenwriting job in California. Megan agreed to go to Hollywood with him. They kissed passionately. Jim and his four friends (Randel, Terry, Tyler and Rubin) stormed into the house. Jim grabbed Meganâs hair and pulled her out of the bathtub. Randel, Terry, Tyler and Rubin beat Nathan, so did Jim before they took them away. Jim burned Nathanâs novel and made Megan watch as Jim and his friend beat the daylights out of him. Rubin was holding Megan. She wanted to intervene. But Rubin held her firmly. Megan begged them to stop hurting him. They ignored her, as if she was a ghost that had no business there, they continued to beat him within an inch of his life and threw him in a river. Jim then flagellated Megan with a whip till her skin peeled off from her back, cut her face with a knife, disfiguring her look, and threw her at a hospital without a single drop of cloth.
The paramedics rushed her to emergency room, the doctors stopped the bleed, cleaned her cuts, stitched them, patched up her wounds and safe her life. Meanwhile, a good Samaritan fetched Nathan out of the water, took him to his house, and restored him to health. On the other hand, Megan, who was disfigured badly, recovered from her injury but fell into depression and killed herself, thinking that Nathan wouldnât love her like how he used to. Nathan, who was grief-stricken by her death, killed her husband and his friends (one by one). But the police shot and killed him as he tried to escape. Nathan was the first Americanâs most wanted for a wrong reason but the right cause. The police thought that he was a serial killer. He came to their houses in the middle of the night, cut their chests, removed their hearts and roasted their hearts with fire till it was black. He then put their hearts back in their chests and stitched the skins back; it was how he felt, they took his light away and his heart became dark, and they paid dearly. The police didnât know the cause of their deaths till they did autopsies. It became a big news. Every law enforcement agent in New York City came after him. It was what it was. Their lives must have been filled with romance, passion, love, longing, violent, sex, crime and scandal.
Love was one of the basic necessities of life, but at the same time, it was full of mystery. Nathan knew that he had no control over it but hoped he gained some knowledge of his heart before it was too late - the source of joy and pain, euphoria and heartache, and pleasure and melancholy. Love had taken him to a place, where even fools feared to tread, "with nothing underfoot, with nothing around, without pandemonium, without much belief in his own right, and still less in that of his adversary" like Heart of darkness by Joseph Conrad... except it had a blissful atmosphere. The stars were spectators. There was glory, there was the great desire of victory, there was fear of losing control, but he had a strong faith; he believed "When we wanted it bad, all the universe conspires in helping us achieving it." Nathan was willing to die for her; he loved her from the bottom of his heart and he did not understand why a girl wanted to run away from a heart that wanted to nurture her day and night. She was the love of his life. He thought that he could have placed his trust on her forever and ever. She would never let me down, would she? It didnât matter at all. Nathan still had a beautiful opinion of her. He wanted to make her happy with no string attached. She was his queen. He wouldnât betray her trust. But the demons in his head told him Why would anyone want to give their heart to a girl who was no-good? As an artist, he had to ask himself how he would be remembered. But as a man, he should always strive for respect. If they didn't respect him, they wouldn't fear him. And if they didn't fear him, they would take him for granted. And if they took him for granted, they would destroy him. He didnât want that, did he? They wanted him to imagine giving his heart and soul to a girl that he thought that she needed him. And he then discovered that he meant nothing to her. Megan was nothing but trouble. If he forgot her, he would do his heart a great service. But Nathan knew Megan was his Sunshine. He didnât care about respect. Respect had nothing to do with love. His heart needed her. It would stop beating if anything happened to her. He thought the demons in his head liked to talk nonsense. Megan was a treasure, which his heart sought restlessly the moment he laid eyes on her. Nathan thought that they could take the world by storm; together they would have become legends. And in the future, the world would look up to them like Romeo and Juliet or Cleopatra and Mark Antony or Tristan and Iseult. The truth was there was nothing like Megan in the history of creation, she was out of this world, if she came from any era, she must have come from the future millions of light years away.
Nathan didn't think that it was fair. Her eyes were sparkling like stars that the angels collected from the most celestial part of heaven and sprinkled them in two mysterious seas that dwelled in the air, which in themselves were belonged to the goddess of love, beauty, desire, and all aspects of sexuality, who granted anyone's wish in the count of seven. Megan, worrying about what was going on in the world and things that might put her life in danger, slept with ache in her heart and dreamed of dancing with a stranger. She woke up in the morning with butterflies in her belly. She took a sip from a coffee with brown sugar, hazelnut, and cinnamon concoction while it was still steaming. She didnât put it down like an item that she purchased at the auction. She had one sip after another till love filled her irises with maple syrup, chocolate, honey, gold and diamonds; beaming. He could see his soul dilating in her eyes and hear his heart screaming. Nathan worshipped her like how the ancient Egyptians idolized the sun, having confidence in its heat and light, which it bestowed upon the world, and believing that it would deliver them from darkness as long as they continued to pray sincerely and honor it with gifts or make sacrifices... such as killing animals in a religious ceremony; they depended on it even though it was only 1 star out of the countless bright objects in the universe... except Nathan believes that she was 1 in an infinity. There were nothing like her in the universe...
2024.03.14 08:56 adulting4kids More Types of Poems
- Terza Rima: A poetic form consisting of tercets (three-line stanzas) with interwoven rhymes, often used by Dante in "The Divine Comedy."
- Clerihew: A humorous and whimsical poem of four lines, with irregular meter and rhymes, focusing on a person, often the poet.
- Triolet: An eight-line poem with a specific rhyme scheme (ABaAabAB), featuring repeated lines.
- Ballad: A narrative poem often set to music, telling a story with a strong rhythm and rhyme.
- Renga: A collaborative form of Japanese linked-verse poetry, typically composed by multiple poets in alternating stanzas.
- Senryu: Similar to haiku, but focuses on human nature and emotions rather than nature itself.
- Paradelle: A complex and rare form of poetry that repeats lines with variations, creating a challenging structure.
- Golden Shovel: A form where each word in a line of an existing poem is used as the end word in a line of the new poem.
- Haibun: A combination of prose and haiku, often describing a journey or a nature experience.
- Villancico: A medieval Spanish poetic form often used in songs and carols, characterized by repetition and refrains.
- Palindrome Poetry: A poem that reads the same backward as forward, creating a mirrored effect.
- Blackout Poetry: Creating poetry by selectively redacting or highlighting words from an existing text, often creating a visual element.
- Tetractys: A five-line poem with a syllable count of 1, 2, 3, 4, 10, creating a pyramid shape.
- Rubaiyat: A Persian form of poetry with quatrains, typically written in iambic pentameter with the rhyme scheme AABA.
- Fibonacci Poem: A poem following the Fibonacci sequence for syllable counts in each line (0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, etc.).
- Calligram: A visual poem in which the words or letters are arranged in a shape that reflects the poem's subject.
- Shape Poetry: Poems that take on a visual shape related to their subject, enhancing the overall meaning.
- Tanka Prose: A prose poem followed by a tanka, combining the concise nature of prose with the emotional depth of tanka.
- Found Poetry: Creating poetry from existing texts or found materials, rearranging and recontextualizing words.
- Blitz Poem: A form of poetry with a rapid, stream-of-consciousness style, using repetition and wordplay.
- Sevenling: A seven-line poem with specific guidelines, including three lines with three elements, and a concluding statement in one line.
- Pantun: A Malay poetic form with quatrains, featuring an interlocking rhyme scheme between stanzas.
- Cento: A collage-like poem composed entirely of lines from other poems.
- Cinquain Chain: Connecting multiple cinquains to create a longer poem or narrative.
- Rhyme Royal: A seven-line stanza with a specific rhyme scheme (ABABBCC), used by Geoffrey Chaucer.
- Haiga: A combination of haiku and visual art, where an image complements the haiku.
- Minute Poem: A strict 60-syllable poem with a 8-4-4-4 structure and specific rhyme scheme (aabb).
- Nonet: A nine-line poem with a descending syllable count in each line, often 9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1.
- Tanka Tumble: A series of linked tanka poems, creating a flowing narrative.
- Dramatic Monologue: A poem in which a character speaks directly to an audience, revealing their thoughts and emotions.
2024.03.10 19:58 MarquessOfMayhem Redneck Geometry
I was originally going to title this "Geometery of a Madman," but then it dawned on me, it would be a crying damn shame to lump a redneck like ForrestFenn in with Tolstoy, Mappussant, Ozzy, and almost Doestoevsky. So in Remembrance of of Mr. Fenn, I want to discuss for a minute, the Geometrey of a Redneck ...
Ole Forrest was always telling stories revoliving around circles and triangles. (gee, how profound) But then sometimes he'd mix in deeper things, like marbles and great big balls of string, often finding a way to tie them in to triangles.
All this (in combination with always praying for D's and some super-smart science pal he had out to the house) got me to thinking, what if the old turkey had roped in some high-level mathematician when creating his chase, and geometry, somehow, was key ...
After all, he talked of "taking radials off blazes" and shamanism, which, some say causes one to see a series of geometric figures flashing across the black backdrop of the inner-eye ...
Plus the old man said he felt like he was always talking in circles.
So I strung all this turkey-squirt nonsensical mind-blather together, slept on it, and I came up with my own keyword, and yes, a word in the poem. That word being:
CONE
You see ... a cone, oddly enough, is a conjunction of high points and low circles.
Poem, aka MOPE, is defined as a person "given to spells ... of low spirits." Speaking of which ... to PINE means the same thing, PINE-CONE-MOPE-POEM. And most POEMS, if you listen to them, are some sad old guy PINING or MOPING about some HIGH time he once had, an APEX experience which is now GONE (pronounced gawww-nnnn, not Goooooo-IN, contrary to how it might contextually seem)
Now how I got to CONE, was a took all those shapes of triangles, circles, spheres, etc, and then I just strated shuffling them about, moving them,rotating them, per the geometric wisdome embedded in "praying for D's' (aka "other dimensions")
What's interesting is, I, like others, have found, that when I'm feeling kinda down and out, once I start moving, putting-to, shuffling about in any old direction, my lowly spirits tend to uplift ... doesn't really make much sense, but in an odd way I think it does. A queer expectorate for the saddened soul, pine-cone tea, made to steep the sap right out of a crestfallen fella.
So a CONE, when you really Stop to think about it at least 2-4 times, begins to triangulate pretty near everything.
The Cone -- The Sacred Geometry of Rednecks? Maybe.
Cone -- sure to bamboozle even the most bumfuzzled fellow around? Maybe.
The Cone -- the spiral's birthday celebratin' pokey-doted high hat? Could be.
I've found that whenever or wherever I've begun to really give a CONE my full attention, whether I Satori stood or whatever position I was in, the CONE, the more I thunk about it, seeemd to help. Yes, I've even done it with a bucket over my head. On the toilet. In just about every state imaginable, I've worked this Cone theory on and on and on.
The odd thing is, per white car theory, the more you muse on, reflect on CONES< the more you start seeing them everywhere. Go ahead, try it. Fibbonochi, I'm pretty sure, started all his spiral sequences, staring at CONES. It's like the Bob Ross method for really getting someplace like painting happy liddle trees.
Go re-read Fenn's writings, and, like he said, start looking for every little thing ... only, do your looking through the odd geometric filter of a CONE -- searcher to bring bright orange with him ... a bright orange CONE? "a little cup" of ice cream ... that can "buy a lot of happiness?" -- well, i wonder if that little cup he speaks of, that gives him the waffling gut feeling, might be shaped like a waffleCONE ... Flight patterns, encampmant shapes, radials off blazes, landing markers on runways ... you mean runways lined with CONES? even the little tiny CAP he put on the tip of his Sharpie .. a little black santa hat, shaped like a COAN. not to mention allll those repeating numbers, all the 4's, 2's, 42's, 24's ... where's an ISOLATED place where so many of those 2's and 4's would ever happen to line-up?
Oh, I know, how about CONEY ISLAND ... accessed by a trashheap; land mass: 442 acres; zip code: 11224 name meaning: "land without shadows."
Oh, trust me, it's endless ...
Go ahead, try me, go back to the books, the scrapbooks, and search for CONES. They're EVERYWHERE:
mountains, pyramids, hats, candles, tapers, wafers, waffles, pine-seeds, sea-shells ... heck, we could even call CONES man's little 'sea-shell,' because when you rip open an eyeball, know what you find aside from rods? that's right ... CONES.
Cones. they're goddamn ubiquitous.
Start searching for them and they WILL ... MAKE YOU ... LOSE. YOUR. MIND.
... and then once you're half mad, but still searching, and some science guy tells you the very eye your searching for is powerd by ... CONES ... holy shit, that's it y'all. I've never been much for religion, meditation or some spiritual-ass-practice, but I'm about to go call up some Buddhist temple, and after freaking out that steeples are conical and pointy up top, I'm going to suggest they start using CONES to drive searchers mad.
And what was Fenn called in that one interview, to which he appeared to take such great offense?
I think he got labeled a STAPLE.
Maybe what bothered fenn so much was not the overall reference, but rather the mis-reading of what had been, from the outset, scripted ...
Forrest Fenn, the Santa Fe STEEPLE ...
about the CONEY'S feller you'll ever meet on the side of some random mountain town street.
submitted by MarquessOfMayhem to FindingFennsGold [link] [comments]
Ole Forrest was always telling stories revoliving around circles and triangles. (gee, how profound) But then sometimes he'd mix in deeper things, like marbles and great big balls of string, often finding a way to tie them in to triangles.
All this (in combination with always praying for D's and some super-smart science pal he had out to the house) got me to thinking, what if the old turkey had roped in some high-level mathematician when creating his chase, and geometry, somehow, was key ...
After all, he talked of "taking radials off blazes" and shamanism, which, some say causes one to see a series of geometric figures flashing across the black backdrop of the inner-eye ...
Plus the old man said he felt like he was always talking in circles.
So I strung all this turkey-squirt nonsensical mind-blather together, slept on it, and I came up with my own keyword, and yes, a word in the poem. That word being:
CONE
You see ... a cone, oddly enough, is a conjunction of high points and low circles.
Poem, aka MOPE, is defined as a person "given to spells ... of low spirits." Speaking of which ... to PINE means the same thing, PINE-CONE-MOPE-POEM. And most POEMS, if you listen to them, are some sad old guy PINING or MOPING about some HIGH time he once had, an APEX experience which is now GONE (pronounced gawww-nnnn, not Goooooo-IN, contrary to how it might contextually seem)
Now how I got to CONE, was a took all those shapes of triangles, circles, spheres, etc, and then I just strated shuffling them about, moving them,rotating them, per the geometric wisdome embedded in "praying for D's' (aka "other dimensions")
What's interesting is, I, like others, have found, that when I'm feeling kinda down and out, once I start moving, putting-to, shuffling about in any old direction, my lowly spirits tend to uplift ... doesn't really make much sense, but in an odd way I think it does. A queer expectorate for the saddened soul, pine-cone tea, made to steep the sap right out of a crestfallen fella.
So a CONE, when you really Stop to think about it at least 2-4 times, begins to triangulate pretty near everything.
The Cone -- The Sacred Geometry of Rednecks? Maybe.
Cone -- sure to bamboozle even the most bumfuzzled fellow around? Maybe.
The Cone -- the spiral's birthday celebratin' pokey-doted high hat? Could be.
I've found that whenever or wherever I've begun to really give a CONE my full attention, whether I Satori stood or whatever position I was in, the CONE, the more I thunk about it, seeemd to help. Yes, I've even done it with a bucket over my head. On the toilet. In just about every state imaginable, I've worked this Cone theory on and on and on.
The odd thing is, per white car theory, the more you muse on, reflect on CONES< the more you start seeing them everywhere. Go ahead, try it. Fibbonochi, I'm pretty sure, started all his spiral sequences, staring at CONES. It's like the Bob Ross method for really getting someplace like painting happy liddle trees.
Go re-read Fenn's writings, and, like he said, start looking for every little thing ... only, do your looking through the odd geometric filter of a CONE -- searcher to bring bright orange with him ... a bright orange CONE? "a little cup" of ice cream ... that can "buy a lot of happiness?" -- well, i wonder if that little cup he speaks of, that gives him the waffling gut feeling, might be shaped like a waffleCONE ... Flight patterns, encampmant shapes, radials off blazes, landing markers on runways ... you mean runways lined with CONES? even the little tiny CAP he put on the tip of his Sharpie .. a little black santa hat, shaped like a COAN. not to mention allll those repeating numbers, all the 4's, 2's, 42's, 24's ... where's an ISOLATED place where so many of those 2's and 4's would ever happen to line-up?
Oh, I know, how about CONEY ISLAND ... accessed by a trashheap; land mass: 442 acres; zip code: 11224 name meaning: "land without shadows."
Oh, trust me, it's endless ...
Go ahead, try me, go back to the books, the scrapbooks, and search for CONES. They're EVERYWHERE:
mountains, pyramids, hats, candles, tapers, wafers, waffles, pine-seeds, sea-shells ... heck, we could even call CONES man's little 'sea-shell,' because when you rip open an eyeball, know what you find aside from rods? that's right ... CONES.
Cones. they're goddamn ubiquitous.
Start searching for them and they WILL ... MAKE YOU ... LOSE. YOUR. MIND.
... and then once you're half mad, but still searching, and some science guy tells you the very eye your searching for is powerd by ... CONES ... holy shit, that's it y'all. I've never been much for religion, meditation or some spiritual-ass-practice, but I'm about to go call up some Buddhist temple, and after freaking out that steeples are conical and pointy up top, I'm going to suggest they start using CONES to drive searchers mad.
And what was Fenn called in that one interview, to which he appeared to take such great offense?
I think he got labeled a STAPLE.
Maybe what bothered fenn so much was not the overall reference, but rather the mis-reading of what had been, from the outset, scripted ...
Forrest Fenn, the Santa Fe STEEPLE ...
about the CONEY'S feller you'll ever meet on the side of some random mountain town street.
2024.03.10 10:39 tavg123 EVERY unique word said in every Tally Hall song (even side projects)
I'd like to say hello and welcome you good day that is my name come here sit down I'm so glad even really truly came we can go take a walk or something but first i need introduce what when let us sing its call it likes it's nothing lives breathes insists never liked speak run sleep eat thought everybody tried seat looking through glass eyes give few tries goes right in time kill all bad dreams wonder 'bout no things circles spirals mind know this song not about yes why what's little sigh along think done we're thinks ton knew by wanted birds bees television cardboard houses X-ray vision many silly rhymes forgotten lost their telephones games periods lots of question marks here's part again where everything's more than should be greener seems fall beneath your feet seconds tick boulders whenever don't does seem are wherever for together depending on the weather we'll either argue house outside how different felt before got notch belt 'cause plans were me yeah now you'd just rather leave 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submitted by tavg123 to tallyhall [link] [comments]
2024.03.07 09:56 adulting4kids More Types of Poems
- Terza Rima: A poetic form consisting of tercets (three-line stanzas) with interwoven rhymes, often used by Dante in "The Divine Comedy."
- Clerihew: A humorous and whimsical poem of four lines, with irregular meter and rhymes, focusing on a person, often the poet.
- Triolet: An eight-line poem with a specific rhyme scheme (ABaAabAB), featuring repeated lines.
- Ballad: A narrative poem often set to music, telling a story with a strong rhythm and rhyme.
- Renga: A collaborative form of Japanese linked-verse poetry, typically composed by multiple poets in alternating stanzas.
- Senryu: Similar to haiku, but focuses on human nature and emotions rather than nature itself.
- Paradelle: A complex and rare form of poetry that repeats lines with variations, creating a challenging structure.
- Golden Shovel: A form where each word in a line of an existing poem is used as the end word in a line of the new poem.
- Haibun: A combination of prose and haiku, often describing a journey or a nature experience.
- Villancico: A medieval Spanish poetic form often used in songs and carols, characterized by repetition and refrains.
- Palindrome Poetry: A poem that reads the same backward as forward, creating a mirrored effect.
- Blackout Poetry: Creating poetry by selectively redacting or highlighting words from an existing text, often creating a visual element.
- Tetractys: A five-line poem with a syllable count of 1, 2, 3, 4, 10, creating a pyramid shape.
- Rubaiyat: A Persian form of poetry with quatrains, typically written in iambic pentameter with the rhyme scheme AABA.
- Fibonacci Poem: A poem following the Fibonacci sequence for syllable counts in each line (0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, etc.).
- Calligram: A visual poem in which the words or letters are arranged in a shape that reflects the poem's subject.
- Shape Poetry: Poems that take on a visual shape related to their subject, enhancing the overall meaning.
- Tanka Prose: A prose poem followed by a tanka, combining the concise nature of prose with the emotional depth of tanka.
- Found Poetry: Creating poetry from existing texts or found materials, rearranging and recontextualizing words.
- Blitz Poem: A form of poetry with a rapid, stream-of-consciousness style, using repetition and wordplay.
- Sevenling: A seven-line poem with specific guidelines, including three lines with three elements, and a concluding statement in one line.
- Pantun: A Malay poetic form with quatrains, featuring an interlocking rhyme scheme between stanzas.
- Cento: A collage-like poem composed entirely of lines from other poems.
- Cinquain Chain: Connecting multiple cinquains to create a longer poem or narrative.
- Rhyme Royal: A seven-line stanza with a specific rhyme scheme (ABABBCC), used by Geoffrey Chaucer.
- Haiga: A combination of haiku and visual art, where an image complements the haiku.
- Minute Poem: A strict 60-syllable poem with a 8-4-4-4 structure and specific rhyme scheme (aabb).
- Nonet: A nine-line poem with a descending syllable count in each line, often 9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1.
- Tanka Tumble: A series of linked tanka poems, creating a flowing narrative.
- Dramatic Monologue: A poem in which a character speaks directly to an audience, revealing their thoughts and emotions.
2024.03.04 08:42 frzx1 An extensive, stupid guide to Obsidian for beginners.
 | Inboadis Ulers, is a tiny insect living in the amazon that scientists are trying to find since 17 years now. 21 years ago, a team of Australian scientists stumbled upon it and realized that this tiny little creature has a remarkable quality of cheating death. It was not only able to resurrect itself after death, but also revive other insects of the same specie. submitted by frzx1 to ObsidianMD [link] [comments] Before you begin having any thoughts about it. Let me tell you that it's all bullshit. Inboadis Ulers is just "Obsidian rules". I just made it up to make a point. **"Your mind has an amazing quality to generate top grade bullshit"**. Yes. That's my point. The silver lining is, sometimes that ends up paving a way to create some cool stuff. Like a poem for the woman you love (who, sadly, lives in an anime), a piece of story (which you know sucks); you get the picture. But for any of that to ever happen, you must first write. You must first capture that fleeting idea that looks like a flying fuck on steroids. The first question that pops up right after that is, where do I store all of this stuff? And how do I even manage it? It's a complicated answer and I'm gonna slowly butcher it. The answer to the first question, where do I store this, is, well, yeah pat yourself Sherlock, Obsidian. I won't go into the comparative analysis between different note taking apps. Having answered that first question. Let's slowly dive into the second question. The how of it all. Beyond all those complicated systems that sound like a launchpad of a fucking missile, beyond all those lengthy plugins guides that are more complicated than finding peace in life, beyond all those heaps of 'systems' people keep coming up that only scare the beginners away, beyond all those pictures of dashboards that look like the goddamn wardrobe of a 13 year old girl, beyond all that bullshit, there lies a simple idea that you should always stick with and remind yourself. **Obsidian is meant to write things.** Write stuff down. Writing is most organic, most original, and most unique when it's written with no filter, right at the moment it occurs to you. So, write whatever you feel like writing. All the time. Whenever anything interesting pops up in your mind; write it. Will it always be useful in the future? You know the answer. But still, fucking write. Capture things, capture ideas. Snapshot your retarded brain. But, wait. Congratulations, moron, we have run into a problem. We are creating so much of useless stuff that we can't even clearly see the stuff that truly matters. ~~then you'll end up creating a heap of notes that don't mean shit.~~ Right? Absolutely right. But, another 'but', we are glad to have what I call **'A GRAND FILTER'**. Which is, again, as my last post said, almost like I'm trying to sell you a pyramid scheme, 'Daily' fucking Notes'. Walk with me, I'll show you how I work. Here's my today's Daily Note. As of right now. https://preview.redd.it/mg8ael8yp9mc1.png?width=835&format=png&auto=webp&s=c94f16352f8e8684d9711d208d05ff378e9928f2 A little side-note here. While writing this post [this very post {the one you're reading (yes, this one)}], how did I go back to screenshot it? Well, I used something called as the local graph. Which I can access by pressing alt + 'L'. I just opened my local graph, saw all the notes connected to this note and found my today's daily note. https://preview.redd.it/wx477x7bq9mc1.png?width=382&format=png&auto=webp&s=db384b4dea2b5580e1ea06ae94a53e555ceca123 Easy, peasy, Japanesy. Sounds useful? Just fucking nod and I'll continue. Anyway, while we're at graphs. Know that local graph is a far more robust, useful tool than the whole graph view. Graph view, genearlly, falls more on the 'spectacle' side of things for now. Something you can show to your friends and whisper in their ears "I made this". Coming back to the Daily Notes. Daily notes is an amazing filter to leave the ramblings, bullshitting, behind. I legit heard you say 'How?' this time. Now, in the snapshot that I showed you, of my daily note. Notice the absolute lack of structure in what I write in my Daily Note. It has thoughts, it has content, it has pieces of imagination, it has new information, it has goals. The Daily Note is like a mental reflection of that particular day, like a launchpad to create new things and project them to different realms. **Anything that leaves the 'Daily Note', and veins out into its own note, has passed your internal check of 'Hey this is more than just a fleeting thought?'**. Otherwise you wouldn't have made a separate note for it. Right? Now, what of it? Your information passed the 'grand filter' and now exists on its own. What now? Now is where this amazing plugin comes. And it fixes everything. It has fixed people's impotency and world hunger. I'm kidding. No such plugin exists; just incase you believed me. C'mon you did not believe me. Plugins work on a system that has the capacity to work without them. My god thatâs such a fantastic line. Let me write it on its own. Hold on. **Plugins work on a system that has the capacity to work without them.** Never can a system exist around a plugin. A person becomes a douchebag, never the other way around. You cannot take a douchebag and design a human around it. (I think you can but for the example just please say that you get the damn joke). Enough about the Daily Note. I am so damn tired of writing these two words now. Daily Note. Fuck you 'Daily Note', you metronomic textual pervert. Now. You have a separate note. An idea. A distinct piece of written stuff that means something. What of it now? Here's where everything turns obnoxiously subjective. People go different paths from here. His way could be different than mine. There are two ways I approach this.
Refinement is when I distill that idea into something more atomic. Something finer. Something that could be classified as being born out of something. Like a baby Godzilla out a Mama Godzilla. Or a niplet out of a nipple. Do you know nipples are born from nipples? Okay, let me explain. See, a nippl-, okay I'll stop this story for now. Let's keep it for someday later. A couple days ago, having gone through something brutal (like accidentally sitting on your damn balls), I ended up writing about grief. Some words, as they popped in my head. https://preview.redd.it/b6lfdouor9mc1.png?width=1103&format=png&auto=webp&s=441d31d118f6e2c37098547c3750110956c43b02 When I wrote this. I re-read it and found one bit in it that I thought could exist on its own. You can see that part already made into a separate note. https://preview.redd.it/xo0671err9mc1.png?width=796&format=png&auto=webp&s=84efb401e7cb1accdf52a573ea4dc303da9b7906 So, here it is. A separate note that is a distillate from a pre-existing note. At the same time, I do the polar opposite sometimes. I pool in information from different places onto a separate note. It's like taking the idea of distilling a note and turning it on its head. For example. Let me just go through my notes and find something suitable to present it. Wait. Get a can of Coca-Cola or something while I sift through my useless written ramblings. Okay. Found it. It's something I wrote about 'rebellion'. https://preview.redd.it/xq2i0ixvr9mc1.png?width=1115&format=png&auto=webp&s=df1e1bb2d788f4431028b8e0f49070008fe7342a I wrote further, and in doing so, was reminded of something that I had written about rebellion before. So I just pooled that note inside the 'Rebellion' note. https://preview.redd.it/l9w72030s9mc1.png?width=1136&format=png&auto=webp&s=1bd1ff3f30aaf974e4f9051c82773f29a6deab8e If you're wondering, you can do that as well. You can link parts of notes. Refer: [in-case you expected a link, please fucking look it up yourself {I'm not gonna walk you through this}] A lot of Obsidian experience is an experiential process. That is, you only develop your very own style by yourself. There's no ideal way out there. There's just scattered pieces, and it's up to you to pick the pieces that you like and put them all together in ways only you understand. It's like, finding Lego pieces for an Porsche but making a gay Megatron with lights on its head instead, using other old Lego pieces you found in your bathroom. (I have no idea how a gay Megatron can technically exist) For example, God, this post is getting long now. Don't worry. It's ending soon enough. I write sometimes. So, I keep collecting these slices of imageries as they occur to me. https://preview.redd.it/bfsicrwms9mc1.png?width=1134&format=png&auto=webp&s=5f514256debe55de965d3c56ede29888e0fe22d4 The second point is one of those imaginary slices. I just wrote it down because it seemed malleable enough to create more bullshit and spike my absurd stories with it. Also, when I write something, I often add my thoughts about it. So that I can remember the context of it all. Like this, https://preview.redd.it/6vtj0me0t9mc1.png?width=1134&format=png&auto=webp&s=c30b449f46fc387586fad3b90622b80cb235d66e Notice how I have connected it to Arsenal MOC. That's because I am just consolidating things in a way that can make glancing at them easier in the future. I think I'll change it to something else and remove the word MOC. It's just something born out of habit. Eh, whatever. So, anyway, coming to the tail end of this absurdly long rough outline of how I've been using Obsidian. I really hope this helps someone. Okay, I'm kidding. I don't give a rat's ass if it works for you or not [okay this is a joke {it's not (I'm just a meanie talking in bracket hierarchies)}]. I just wrote it because I felt like writing it. Writing is fun and cathartic. This is just my workflow, made by me, and being used by me. It's gonna vary significantly as you begin using Obsidian more extensively. Your system will evolve, crash, evolve again, over and over. You will never reach a perfect system, an ideal workflow. Your kids will only tell their friends, "Dad/mom died last year, but their Obsidian workflow is still evolving. Yes, they were an idiot.". You are in this race of constant improvisation and that's what makes using Obsidian a very proactive, very engaging and intuitive way of noting things down. If I could end this post with one quote, that quote would be, âYou step into the road, and if you donât keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.â â J.R.R. Tolkien Has this quote got anything to do with the post? No. Thanks for reading. Didn't proofread it; grammar sucks. Bye. |
2024.03.02 01:22 _unrealcity_ Chain mail/letters?
What was the point of chain mail/letters? You, know those emails you used to get thatâd have some kitschy poem or something and then be like âsend this to 20 people or youâll die tomorrowâ. Did they provide any benefits to the original sender? Because afaik thereâs no prize for getting your email forwarded around a lotâŠ
I know some could act as like pyramid schemes (asking people to send money up the chain), but a lot of them didnât ask receivers to do anything besides forward it along. SoâŠwhat was the point?
I get why someone would forward one they received (superstitious)âŠbut why would someone make one? Just to prank people?
Maybe this is an unanswerable question, but this just feels like such an odd phenomenon to me.
submitted by _unrealcity_ to NoStupidQuestions [link] [comments]
I know some could act as like pyramid schemes (asking people to send money up the chain), but a lot of them didnât ask receivers to do anything besides forward it along. SoâŠwhat was the point?
I get why someone would forward one they received (superstitious)âŠbut why would someone make one? Just to prank people?
Maybe this is an unanswerable question, but this just feels like such an odd phenomenon to me.