Filk: Rose Marshall’s Ride

Rose Marshall’s Ride

 

ttto of “Black Davie’s Ride”, by Cynthia McQuillin

filk written by Shawna Jacques

 

Rose Marshall’s riding on down the ghost road
No moon of silver nor sun of gold
Wandering all through the Midnight so cold,
Who would you be with if you’d grown old?

Highway girl, highway girl, what do you dream?
Are you a travelling to see a queen?
Are you a hitcher, waiting on roadsides,
Or do you dream of a Sparrow Hill ride?

 

Your hair was tied back and lemon juice gold
Your dress was green, and your eyes were so bold.
He thought to have you, but the price would be your soul,
What kind of engine takes that kind of coal?

Highway girl, highway girl, what do you dream?
Are you a travelling to see a queen?
Are you a hitcher, waiting on roadsides,
Or do you dream of a Sparrow Hill ride?

 

When nights were warmer and your soul was young,
There were so many things you would not have done,
But though you dance til the last song is sung
He paid the crossroads, and now your time has come

Highway girl, highway girl, what do you dream?
Are you a travelling to see a queen?
Are you a hitcher, waiting on roadsides,
Or do you dream of a Sparrow Hill ride?



He stole a friend of yours, and he commands,
That you risk everything you have to make your stand
But he could never steal your power from your hand
And now there’s Bethany with her checkered flag,

Highway girl, highway girl, what do you dream?
Are you a travelling to see a queen?
Are you a hitcher, waiting on roadsides,
Or do you dream of a Sparrow Hill ride?

 


Highway girl, highway girl, what do you dream?
Are you a travelling to see the queen?
Are you a hitcher, waiting on roadsides,
Or do you dream of a Sparrow Hill ride?

Or do you dream of a Sparrow Hill ride?

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Nation Called Panem

by Shawna Jacques
written about Hunger Games (by Suzanne Collins),
ttto “City of Marrow” by S.J. Tucker,

which is written for a book called Orphan’s Tales: In the Cities of Coin and Spice,
by Catherynne M. Valente

Lyrics updated 03-06-2016

If you are not familiar with this book, it is a beautiful pair of books of stories within stories within stories. The story the original song is about is about a city that has fallen to ruin due to a monster comprised mostly of teeth and hunger. The city, which used to mint coins from metal, now mints coins from the bones of dead children, and they make other children work the machines. A boy and a girl stick in that wretched workforce decide to take matters into their own hands, and the boy literally feeds his own arm into the machine so they have coins for their escape. Then I read The Hunger Games, and this practically wrote itself.

(oooo intro)

You’d never know that Panem was
a different place, up until the war
her city’s heart lost its way
so long, so long
gone is the country, the people, the land
now hunger is all that’s in store
above and below she has rotted away,
so long, so long

the districts had called
for Capitol fall,
but now no more than twelve you will find
broken shattered walls
no one there at all
gone to ashes and wasteland and lost time

bakers’ sons and coal miners’ daughters
must take their own lives to hand
I have been through the games of hunger,
and I have come out again.

(so) Fear for the lives they’re wasting
their Reaper may come for you
there’s only one victor, so try to win
they’re counting on you to pull through
or the Hunger Games may take them, too.

(ohhh, oh, I volunteer
ohhh, oh, I volunteer)

Truly, we’ve lost our great nation
that hunger has all but devoured
I look to my mother but I’m all alone
no one looks after the kids now

(ohhh, oh, I volunteer
ohhh, oh, I volunteer)

There can be no hope for our nation
while President Snow is in power
The odds aren’t in favor
Of me or of you

there’s only the Games now,
there’s only the blame now…

Fear for the lives they’re wasting
their Reaper may come for you
there’s only one victor, so try to win
they’re counting on you to pull through, oh…

Fear for the lives they’re wasting
their Reaper may come for you
there’s only one victor, so try to win
they’re counting on you to pull through
or the Hunger Games may take them, too.

bakers’ sons and coal miners’ daughters
must take their own lives to hand
fear now the Games of Hunger
you may not come out again.
I have been through the Games of Hunger
and I have come out again.

Fear for the lives they’re wasting
their Reaper may come for you
there’s only one victor, so try to win
they’re counting on you to pull through
the Hunger Games must someday end, too.

(mockingjay whistle tune)

Poem of the Week #4: Every Day You Play (Pablo Neruda)

Crafty Odysseus

Tis the week of Valentine’s Day. I should respond to it with the traditional dose of bile, but my heart isn’t in it. Almost everything about Valentine’s day is shite: the pressure applied to couples, the loneliness and inadequacy foisted on to the singles, the rampant commercialisation, and above all the rose tinted and sickly portrait of love that the day has come to promote and represent. Still, an entire day (and a saint) dedicated to erotic love can’t be all bad.

Poem of the week is therefore ‘Every Day You Play’ by that Nobel winning Chilean love guru Pablo Neruda, notable for including possibly the sexiest final line of a poem ever written…

Every Day You Play (Pablo Neruda)

Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water.
You are more than this white head that I hold…

View original post 303 more words

Intrepid

Intrepid

The black dog hunts me as I go
Catch me it will if I’m too slow
For if I drop my guard my foe
Will leap to kill with what I know

Disempowered I run, I flee
Monster must not catch up with me
I cannot face the facts and see
I am my own worst enemy

I’ve words to say what must be said
Now from my heart and from my head
For I’ll not go to where I’m led
But where the angels fear to tread

Black dog may hunt but truth remains
It’s I that cause myself my pains
The crazy thoughts that bring no gains
Are my own doing; homemade chains

I hold myself in darkest hell
Chased by the shadows fierce and fell
The spectre’s me, now I can tell
I have the means to make me well.

I’ve words to say what must be said
Now from my heart and from my head
For I’ll not go to where I’m led
But where the angels fear to tread

The tower falls, opens to sky
I spread my wings, know how to fly
Stars blaze above, my freedom’s nigh
With tears of joy I start to cry.

No more entrapped in fear, alone
The way to will myself I’ve shown
A path I should have always known
Through travel far has my soul grown

I’ve words to say what must be said
Now from my heart and from my head
For I’ll not go to where I’m led
But where the angels fear to tread

I’ve words to say what must be said
Now from my heart and from my head
For I’ll not go to where I’m led
But where the angels fear to tread

I go where angels fear to tread…

Version 2.0 03-05-2008

 

I want to rewrite this, but it has potential, for sure.

02/24/2014 Mini-Saga: Liminal

NSFW

Read the rest of this entry

Warm (Work in progress)

This piece is NSFW.

Read the rest of this entry

Ways To Be, and Not To Be

Regarding certain responses to issues of racism, sexism, cissexism, other prejudice-with-power problems, rape culture examples, and privilege:

I am tired of people saying that it’s “up to each individual to decide whether or not they’re offended”. That is essentially saying “It’s your problem if you are offended by this shitty thing I or someone else did that hurts you”, rather than “Wow, I or that person/group said/did an offensive/terrible thing, that sucks, how can I help?” Saying that it’s “up to each individual”, in this manner, is a non-answer, a “this isn’t my problem so I’m not dealing with it, la la la” answer.

No. Just no.

Wake up. It is EVERYONE’S problem when society and individuals treat certain people as less-than, less deserving of kindness, dignity, rights, and more. It is EVERYONE’S problem when someone gets denied their rights, raped, assaulted, murdered, attacked, harassed, and more. It is EVERYONE’S problem that there are people with no where to go and nothing to eat.

Let’s not be shitty to each other, shall we? The world is bettered when there’s less of this garbage going around.

The Hermes and Hekate Road Show, Episode 1

On all my social media outlets…

The Hermes and Hekate Road Show, Episode 1

This is awesome. It is even more awesome, in my view, because the folks playing Hermes and Hekate are my defining priest and priestess for those roles from Spring Mysteries in years past.

Steer wisely.
Something about cycles.

These are pieces of advice from those deities via that priest and priestess, dispensed to me over the last 6 years. They are also statements that relate to the content of this podcast.

Check it out, y’all.

Sometimes A Wild God

Sometimes A Wild God, by Tom Hirons, is an amazing poem.

Poemlet that popped into my head this morning…

Mirror, mirror,
made of stone,
polished antler,
brass, and bone,
Tell me truly:
on my own?
Seated, silent
lifeless throne.