Monthly Archives: February 2013

Watch: Kara – Heavy Rain’s Dev Trailer

This is the new tech developer Quantic Dream is working with — but it’s not Quantic Dream’s new game. Never the less, this near flawless cinematic will turn many heads, so stay tuned as we will have more to come!
See all of IGN’s coverage at GDC here:
http://www.ign.com/events/gdc

Leave a comment

Filed under video

Life UnMarked

Image

(I)

raging against hope

against change

signs that the world will

move on has moved on

continues moving on

without you

.

(II)

step outside and look up

and glare at the branches

bare your teeth

at threat of spring

knobby buds now visible

the greening grass

furious

.

(III)

I want to burn the world down, and stand in the ashes.

.

(IV)

suffocating

dying from the heavy heavy layer

that I can’t peel away                  completely

for fear of how much more of you

might be lost

.

(V)

burying my face in fabric

if there’s a trace left

maybe maybe maybe

as the tornado mind executes

a thousand thoughts spinning

I will not do you hear me I will not move do not let go of me have you let go of me I will not let you slip away I will not let go I will not…

View original post 26 more words

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Ori’gato Udossa Ku’lam by Orophin Palantír

Writings have been turning up around the place that to my mind have a strange elfish quality to it all.   Normally, we are not in the habit of publishing a whole lot of the confounded stuff since there’s not really a whole lot of demand for elf poetry but this elf has been so vexing and persistent, thus forcing my hand.  There, published. I hope now that the torrent of submissions will subside for awhile.

Ori’gato Udossa Ku’lam by Orophin Palantír

Ori’gato udossa ku’lam early xuil suri
fol tangi uss kre’tan
shaking l’ dew tir l’ plains.

Udos orn kre’j a sleeping t’yin udos orn guuan phor
chasing tizzinen dal udossta zha’trassen.

T’yin udos’ll alu nnabiss zhas onions
—breakfast orn saph mina.
Zexen’uma veir, nindolen onions ph’ zhas.

Siyo, udos orn wussrun’wa udos ph’ noamuth doeb gaer tahta drill
still udos orn tah l’ zhas onion.

Comelinas pholor l’ zet,
sage brush pholor ditronw ji udos alurl zexen’uma veir ulu l’ revis.

L’ buffalo grass orn tlu draa lu’ kitrye inch—izznarg whol nindolen plains.
‘Sinairen zhas ‘zil al.

Ajak: leaflets wun llar sevir ‘em tlu. Okay?
Nindyn ph’ elg’cahl olvan. Sevir ‘em.

Jal udos orn ssinssrin orn tlu zhas onions t’yin breakfast.
Udos alurl alu check a l’ lanke.

Leave a comment

Filed under Elven Poetry, Uncategorized

Wild Animals by Elma Vanzemaljac

wendy photo

Elma Vanzemaljac

Wild Animals
by Elma Vanzemaljac

I was in a forest
all alone
bright moonlight was showing me the way
steps of unknown animal were written
in a snow
I felt no fear

music was playing in my ears
I tried to dance
but the snow was too deep
so I kept on walking
eyes of a wolf were looking at me
with some strange warmth

he heard my music
he felt my pain
I saw his wild eyes as he was coming closer
he jumped inside my brain
we were the same
not scared, not surprised
running away from humans
finding the answers in a moonlight

snow wasn’t untouched when we left
we made a circle while changing our bodies
than we went each following our own way
I went deep into a forest

he went into a warm house among humans
we were still the same
free and wild

Elma lives in Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina , via myspace c/o Terry Gresham.

1 Comment

Filed under Poetry

Hola Auslander mi Paputchik

cropped-saffo1.jpgFools and children tell the truth. Locos y ninos dicen
la verdad. For the rest of us, it’s la habanero tanzen.

Zum Beispiel, I know a woman with man-feet, you’ll never
see those dogs in public. She’s a sexy paputchik with man-feet.

This was said about that bandito, Benjamin Franklin,
“Eripuit caelo fulmen sceptrumque tyrannis.”–He snatched
thunder from heaven and sceptor from tyrants.

And though chi ama assai parla poco– true love is without
words– there is many a slip between the cup and the lip.
Del plato a la boca se piede la sopa, you might say.

Aus den Augen, Aus den Sinn– out of sight out of mind–
by nightfall all the cats are gray.
Bei Nacht sind alle Katzengrau.
And besides, de noche todoslos gatos son pardos.

So, voyageur, repeat after me, “Chercher la la pitite bete.” Nice.
Now go now. Search for the little beast that is excessively finicky.
C’est le commencemet de la fin– this could be the beginning of the end.

At last, you must remember this: though aliguando bonus doritat Homersus,
a kiss is still a kiss. And don’t tell anyone I told you this, lo prometes?
but sometimes– shhhhhhh– even the great Homer sleeps.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

On Sunday

On Sunday
I mowed the lawn,
trimmed the hedges,
pickled cucumbers,
baked Alaska,
ate crow,
put an albatross around my neck,
fell asleep at the switch,
did some backseat driving,
put a bet on the wrong horse,
bit the hand that fed me,
built a castle in the air,
burned candles at both ends,
opened a can of worms,
put my cart before the horse,
crossed a bridge before I got to it,
went fishing for compliments,
hid a light under a bushel,
found out which side my bread was buttered on,
locked the barn after the horse was stolen,
made my bed and laid in it, too.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

I like this video from Ödland

https://www.facebook.com/pages/%C3%96dland/56533418013?fref=ts

Leave a comment

Filed under art, music, video

Something from Stephen Schwake

Stephen W. Schwake is an artist who lives in Austin, Texas. He is primarily an oil painter, but also makes prints, drawings, and the occasional sculpture. He works as a designer at a well-known custom glass company in Austin, where he designs and fabricates etched and sand-carved glass, leaded glass, and painted glass.  http://stephenschwake.com/home.html
He also lived in the apartment above mine at one point in the past.

1 Comment

Filed under art

Well, This Is What I Think

I have long been an admirer of David Bowie – singer, composer, artist, art expert, and actor.

Ziggy Stardust* and Aladdin Sane were the soundtrack for my late teens, that irreplaceable, confusing and alarming period when all the world seems to open up to a body and life has infinite possibilities. Bowie’s music – and even more so, his deliberately obscurantist lyrics – walked with me as I made the unsteady and faltering march into manhood.

Here was a man who had the courage to be experimental with language, who – if he could be believed – wrote lines and lines of lyrics and then cut the pages into pieces and lined the lines up at random to see what would happen. If they “spoke” to him in their new jumbled format, that was how they stayed. I never really thought that was what he did – it was all…

View original post 1,323 more words

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized