The Realm of the Red Rose

Feeling a bit romantic....and singing this song for the last several hours.

....waiting in the get away car...

(photos taken at the Blue Mermaid during the Dark Cabaret event)

Skeletal...um.....chicken? (Podruly Peccable)

Vulpine Eldrich as the Headless Horsewoman

Darkness

by Lord Byron

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill’d into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watchfires—and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings—the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum’d,
And men were gather’d round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other’s face;
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
A fearful hope was all the world contain’d;
Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour
They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks
Extinguish’d with a crash—and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil’d;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and look’d up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnash’d their teeth and howl’d: the wild birds shriek’d
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl’d
And twin’d themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless—they were slain for food.
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again: a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought—and that was death
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails—men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devour’d,
Even dogs assail’d their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famish’d men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
Lur’d their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answer’d not with a caress—he died.
The crowd was famish’d by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heap’d a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage; they rak’d up,
And shivering scrap’d with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other’s aspects—saw, and shriek’d, and died—
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless—
A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirr’d within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp’d
They slept on the abyss without a surge—
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The moon, their mistress, had expir’d before;
The winds were wither’d in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish’d; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them—She was the Universe.

Dark Cabaret

The Autumn Fairy
by Celticpoet

The Autumn fairy weaves her spell
Spreads out her cloth of gold
Adorns the fields and woodlands both
With the riches of days so old

She makes the plants and flowers bloom
Displaying Nature's glory
For soon cold Winter's dismal gloom
Will tell a different story

Among the Rocks
by Robert Browning

Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth,
This autumn morning! How he sets his bones
To bask i' the sun, and thrusts out knees and feet
For the ripple to run over in its mirth;
Listening the while, where on the heap of stones
The white breast of the sea-lark twitters sweet.
That is the doctrine, simple, ancient, true;
Such is life's trial, as old earth smiles and knows.
If you loved only what were worth your love,
Love were clear gain, and wholly well for you:
Make the low nature better by your throes!
Give earth yourself, go up for gain above!

Ode To Autumn
by John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,--
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Again, my most sincere thanks to all involved in our Second Annual SL Boobie-Thon events!

p.s. to spend a bit more time browsing the photos - feel free to go see my Flickr album.

Real life being what it is, I have not had time to wade through the wonderful pictures of the final Boobie-Thon 2009 event in SL: The Limerick Contest.

I have shared in other venues (in my exhausted but elated state) that Saving Second Base (our SL Boobie-Thon team) donated 2010.00 USD to Susan G. Komen last night after a week of wonderful events and gorgeous product sales.

Let me just say that again - $2,010.00!!!!

Thank you! Thank you!

I promise a more full report within the next 2 or 3 days. But for now, let me just say a HUGE Thank You! to Velesjæger Munster (our contest winner), Hotspur O'Toole, and PJ Trenton for their fine limericks during the "Joust".



A special thanks to Iason Hassanov (who was suddenly and unexpectedly called into RL work and could not join us for the event, but worked with me to create the space), Icarus Ghost (our phenomenal DJ) and Hypatia Callisto (for sharing not only some great burlesque dances, but also her Blue Mermaid event time with us).

My fellow judges were AutoPilotPatty Poppy and Magdalena Kamenev. Thank you, ladies!

And of course thanks to Serra Anansi, my Bosom Buddy in all these efforts.

There are far too many of you to thank for generosity of spirit and pocketbook to do so by name, but I send a heartfelt thanks to all of you who were able to attend our (and/or donate at) BoobieBalls! When I left the second event this afternoon, I left with the knowledge that over the last 2 days you have donated 1100.00 USD!

All of that money is heading to the Susan G. Komen Foundation via the Blogger Boobie-Thon!

Thank you, lovely Seneschelf, for being such a wonderful partner in our Second Life Boobie-Thon efforts!!



And thanks to Stormy Mefusula and Mollie Braxton, who are the Chief Boobie Officer and a fellow photo editor respectively.

The wonderful vendors with fantastical items for sale in support of Boobie-Thon will remain at the event site until October 7th. Pray do go have a look and make your purchases without delay!

Also - Don't forget to join us for the Limerick Contest on October 7th at 6:30pm SLT!!