Morphing: a trans story in poetry

story about turning unruly girls into good little women (into. “good wives book, this same character morphs into a paragon of feminine self-denial and restraint .. to skip over the poem, especially in a novel whose textual trans- parency works.
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When Felicia the fox embarks onto her mail service route, she gets involved in a bullying issue and debates Cecilia sets off to find a magical flute, but along the way she finds friends and enemies, obstacles and wo A friendless rabbit strives to make his birthday wish for friendship come true. Ryan Miller and his sister Nicole walk into a weird area, and then a flash occurs. Nicole is missing and Ry GreenPanda62 Strings Charlotte Cassidy has an ability.

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Format All Formats Longform Picture book. Elibeth This is a story about the journey a half-fox-half-girl and her by choice only friend to remove the curse Shapeshift In a society of order, Ada and Huntley are outcasts with an unnatural ability that must be hidden at any cost. Distinctive My name is Cor Auri, but everyone calls me Cori. The title of a story that is not story 3 Chapters so far morph. Body Of An Animal Mira gives powers to all her friends, and they return something back.

Sillhoutte It's time for one normal ish girl to show the world she knows the truth-along with a few others who accomp B O Y Ethan is a closeted trans boy, known as Ellie to the world.


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Morphed Three girls work out their morphing powers to stop nothing but to stop and start something 1 Chapter so far morphegriffingirlsadventure. Hybrid Me Jade is a Hybrid, and a very unusual one at that. What She Never Shared poems for those who broke my heart 54 Chapters so far anxiety body-dysmorphia broken-heart depression emotional-abuse negative-body-image pain poetry sad self-deprecating. Metamorphosis A story of quiet transformation.

So whether the issues came up in the 14 th or 19 th or 21 st century, the answers come in the form of a poem. Perhaps while the options being considered in the question may be simple, they may require an answer deeper than a yes or no because our lives are not so clear-cut. Hafez is the intermediary, if you will; you draw your own conclusions and find the meaning in the poem that serves as a useful metaphor for your life. Then the poem, in turn, becomes a metaphor for your life, encouraging you to think poetically and philosophically about decisions in your life.

In the end, you find your own solution. So how can we use this ancient tradition to survive these troubled times? Of course, telling you the question would probably jinx it.

Trans-Genre

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity. Or perhaps we would do better to consult Hafez, and not only because he calls out hypocrites.


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And can effect any opening that can make love. Here is a verse from Ghazal that the webmaster of randomness found for me: The poet, unlike the politician, always tells the truth, at least a truth. Perhaps the tradition of the Fal-e Hafez is a way to seek wisdom in poetry rather than politics and to find our own pathway and meaningful ways to engage with the world.

By the end of the century more than half will disappear. Our languages are melting like the icecaps. A minute motion poem poem on film , each line comes from a different endangered or minority language, currently referred to as treasure languages. In the Boro tongue of North India, itself a treasure language, Khonsay means to pick up something with great care, as it is rare or scarce.

We invite you to watch it here:. The written poem, along with background information, and information on how to contribute to endangered language revitalization appears at www. The ballet, which will premiere in San Francisco on May 4, was choreographed buy Alonzo King to stories, chants, songs in endangered languages; the theme of the ballet is the loss of cultures and resultant disruption in the Ecology of Consciousness.

Then the audience entered the Atrium Theater to the many voices of KHONSAY rising to a crescendo and then then an abrupt silence and blackout — a world without language diversity is a silent world. But that night people were singing in this treasure language. Languages like the flora and fauna of the planet are part of a world ecology. We need to treasure language.

With the loss of languages around the world humanity loses a portion of its inventive and creative genius, and six blue butterflies disappear from the consciousness of earth. He mentioned to me, as we shook our heads over the forthcoming election, that both candidates failed to take advantage of metaphors and colorful language in their campaigns. So what are we to make of an artless president, a president with little or no feeling for poetry, language, or art? Metaphors connect ideas—and sometimes people—through language.

We find we need poetry at occasions like weddings, where words can create union, funerals, where they ease separation — and politics where they span divides. Instead of calling on language and poetry to connect, Trump instead traffics in power relations. Power is hierarchical, a vertical line that severs other patterns, connections, and meanings. Their elimination would be akin to the destruction of ancient monuments in that it would be difficult if not impossible to ever bring them back. Each year since , for instance, nine to thirteen individuals from across the country are chosen to receive onetime National Heritage Fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, in recognition of lifetime achievement and artistic excellence.

Cutting these agencies diminishes the significance of these awards and past awardees, including the parallel NEA awards in jazz and creative writing. As Trump so emphatically noted, much of America, particularly in rural areas and small towns, is depressed and wants change. But the arts are part of the solution, not the problem.

Poetry, Melodies & Metal

Shannon Monnat, assistant professor of rural sociology and demographics at Penn State University, explored the election data from districts where Trump did well in November. And what I found was that Trump outperformed the previous Republican candidate Mitt Romney the most in counties with the highest drug, alcohol, and suicide mortality rates. The arts provide a resource that people can use to make sense of the world as it is and to imagine the future.

A two-year ethnographic study of collaborative informal arts groups in the Chicago metropolitan area underlined the impact of arts on community. The study, led by Alaka Wali, looked at writing groups, painting circles, choirs, and other informal networks in which people congregate around a shared interest. They discovered that the collective pursuit of informal arts enables people to come together across the often-intransigent boundaries of race and ethnicity. The arts can help bring people together across the ethnic and social divides that defined the recent election.

A taxi driver in New York echoed this sentiment when I asked what he was listening to on the radio: Certainly, we can come up with our own colorful, metaphorical language to describe Trump in the Oval Office. Yet asking Trump to use more proverbs would certainly not solve the problem of arts funding or the value we place on arts as a nation; preserving the National Endowment for the Arts, on the other hand, is crucial to our civilization.

It costs each American only the price of a postage stamp each year, but consider how much good its programs do in alleviating the despair and lack of opportunity that afflict so many communities across the nation—perhaps even in how many lives they save. Once upon a time in the old country, there was a tiny town in a wine-producing region of Eastern Europe.

The villagers in this region heard that a revered and renowned rabbi was planning to visit their town on a grand tour. So they devised a plan. They put a big oak barrel in the center of town, and every week, just after sundown on Shabbat, every household was to bring a small pitcher of red wine and pour it into the cask.

trans-siberian orchestra | Poetry, Melodies & Metal

Six months later, the big day arrived. The villagers set up a stand in the center of town and put the cask on top of it. Right on schedule, the famous rabbi appeared. The townspeople were all very proud of their village and their wine, and they were anxious to impress the rabbi. They presented him with a beautiful, ceremonial kaddish cup to taste the wine and inaugurate the celebration.

He put the lovely cup underneath the spigot, filled it up, and lifted it high. If everyone thought the way that Mendel and Rebecca did, what would that mean for the protests? Though many through history have sacrificed more, their bodies and their blood, we all gave a measure of our time. At the march in D. On my way home, my phoned binged and it was from photographer Martha Cooper who had been at the march. Photo by Martha Cooper. We talked on the phone about how the magnitude and widespread dispersion of the signs and protests across the U.

At that time in , we worked with Martha Cooper to document the memorials and to produce both an online exhibit and an exhibition at the New York Historical Society; 15 years later, we had the opportunity to work with her again. We began to plan an exhibit in the City Lore gallery on the Art of Protest, and we are inviting the public i. Let us know, too, if you saved your signs. As our bus pulled into Port Authority, another bit of Jewish folklore occurred to me—this time an often-quoted piece of wisdom from Rabbi Hillel:.

If I am not for myself, who will be for me? But if I am only for myself, who am I? If not now, when? I began to spin a Talmudic gloss on the line to try to get to its deeper meaning. But the first line made me think a little deeper. We need to do it for our own sake and our own sanity, to avoid becoming depressed, and in that way, let the other side win. We are doing this so our own lives have meaning as creative beings at the same time as we try affect change in the world. The signs and chants represent art for social change at its best, but they also speak to the poetry of everyday life.

So do it for yourself, for your army of one — then let it become an army of two and then four, then four hundred thousand. Let us protest creatively. And so — as it happened in story — my wife Amanda and I decided not to skimp on the wine we poured into the cask. We got on the bus to DC. Because we marched, five hundred thousand marched. Because you did, others did. Tonight, he lay in a hospital bed at the McCleod hospital in Florence, South Carolina, unable to properly swallow or get out of bed unassisted. Family members took turns staying overnight with him, and this night was my turn.

At one point, I thought he was sleeping. I was working on my computer, when I heard lines from a poem coming from the other side of the room: Born in , Lucas was always amazed at the magic of the Internet to access any tidbit of knowledge. The next day the doctor told Lucas and the family that there was nothing more to be done medically and recommended hospice care. That day, we brought Lucas home to the family farm and set up his bed in the living room, where for the next three weeks he was surrounded by family members and a stream of visitors, including guests for the weekly poetry and music nights he had hosted at the house for many years.

Other visitors included members of his old Boy Scout troop, who talked about what they had learned from him, and a local farmer, David White, who had started a tradition of bringing lunch to share with Lucas every Monday, and who this time brought in a newborn duckling on his visit. It was clear to all of us that in his final days Lucas sought solace in poetry, not religion. Many of the poems he knew by heart, including some we had never heard him recite before. I read a line from the poem, A haze on the far horizon.

Lying in his bed, he recited the second from memory, The infinite, tender sky. I read the third line, and then he responded with the fourth from memory. We went all through the poem in tandem. And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,. Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart. As she read, Amanda watched her father close his eyes.

Kay Kassirer - Angry Trans Poem

She thought he had drifted off to sleep, and she put the book down, too sad to continue. So live, that when thy summons comes to join. To that mysterious realm, where each shall take. Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night,. Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed. A fitting end to an innovative album. An Angel Came Down A Star To Follow First Snow instrumental The Silent Nutcracker instrumental A Mad Russians Christmas instrumental The Prince Of Peace Good King Joy The First Noel instrumental Old City Bar Promises To Keep This Christmas Day O Holy Night They relish in stories within stories within….

This one differs in that a young girl is on the brink of losing childhood innocence. She cannot ask her parents as she has been told they are part of the entire Christmas conspiracy. So, like any child, she decides to wait up for Santa to make his appearance in the one room closest to the roof where he lands his sleigh — the attic.

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While in the attic, the angel gets her to notice an old storage chest and the magic is released. As with the first album, this release too has its sad moments. Although there is not as many instrumental pieces as the first release; it is the sadness in some of the stories that makes this album so poignant. Trans-Siberian Orchestra can be accused of Aesop ian storytelling.

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Forgiveness, hope, that it is never too late, innocence over jaded viewpoints, and cherishing life no matter what kind of life you have. This release gives homage to the innocence of children. It is also the third bestselling digital Christmas song. It is a Christmas album. The Ghosts Of Christmas Eve Boughs Of Holly instrumental The World That She Sees Midnight, Christmas Eve instrumental Find Our Way Home Appalachian Snowfall instrumental The Music Box The Snow Came Down Christmas In The Air Dream Child A Christmas Dream I wonder how much of the music the writer actually listened to?


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For all those who pined for a more serious release. A more symphonic release as if the other two releases were not symphonic enough , this is it. I will note that it is, at times, melancholy, but very introspective. Again the angel is sent to Earth on a quest by God. Aside from the daunting task, the angel can only use his power of flight twice.

Once to descend and again to return to Heaven. Emotions permeate many of the songs, and many can be deemed on the Gothic side. First off, take the cover. See the guitar in the snow globe? Homage to Criss Oliva , original guitarist for Savatage, brother to Jon Oliva, whose life was ended by a drunk driver? It is who I thought of upon first seeing the cover. And then there is the music. From the start there is a melancholic feel to it. Like the second album, The Christmas Attic , this release, too, deals with ghosts and spirits, though more depth is used, in turn making the songs longer, a bit more progressive, less Rock sounding and more Metal.

Christmas, and holidays in general, are not only times of happiness. There are many people who suffer through them with memories of once good times but now, because life gives you what it gives you and rarely what you want and plan for, holidays mean remembering what is now lost or gone in their life, or their failures.

But like TSO does, they take you to those memories and let you know that it is never too late in your life to turn things around.