at Black Point, Nova Scotia
Peanuts by: Charles M. Schulz
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Long exposure picture of a Lightning Bolt hitting a Tree!
holy shit
metal as fuck
I NOW UNDERSTAND WHY I ALWAYS TOLD NOT TO BE UNDER A TREE WHEN IT’S LIGHTNING.
Reblog to save a life
your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.
“
| — | The Laughing Heart, by Charles Bukowski. (via geopsych) |
We’ve all heard bands that have really heavy guitars and industrial noises with ethereal melodic vocals…but does anyone know of some that have beautiful delicate music with indecipherable screaming and animal noises for vocals? I feel like that should be a thing.
“If you treat an individual as he is, he will remain how he is. But if you treat him as if he were what he ought to be and could be, he will become what he ought to be and could be.” - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Before our lady came on earth
Little there was of joy or mirth;
About the borders of the sea
The sea folk wandered heavily;
About the wintry river side
The weary fishers would abide.
Alone within the weaving-room
The girls would sit before the loom,
And sing no song, and play no play;
Alone from dawn to hot mid-day,
From mid-day unto evening,
The men afield would work, nor sing,
’Mid weary thoughts of man and God,
Before thy feet the wet ways trod.
Unkissed the merchant bore his care,
Unkissed the knights went out to war,
Unkissed the mariner came home,
Unkissed the minstrel men did roam.
Or in the stream the maids would stare,
Nor know why they were made so fair;
Their yellow locks, their bosoms white,
Their limbs well wrought for all delight,
Seemed foolish things that waited death,
As hopeless as the flowers beneath
The weariness of unkissed feet:
No life was bitter then, or sweet.
Therefore, O Venus, well may we
Praise the green ridges of the sea
O’er which, upon a happy day,
Thou cam’st to take our shame away.
Well may we praise the curdling foam
Amidst the which thy feet did bloom,
Flowers of the gods; the yellow sand
They kissed atwixt the sea and land;
The bee-beset ripe-seeded grass,
Through which thy fine limbs first did pass;
The purple-dusted butterfly,
First blown against thy quivering thigh;
The first red rose that touched thy side,
And over-blown and fainting died;
The flickering of the orange shade,
Where first in sleep thy limbs were laid;
The happy day’s sweet life and death,
Whose air first caught thy balmy breath—
Yea, all these things well praised may be,
But with what words shall we praise thee—
O Venus, O thou love alive,
Born to give peace to souls that strive?
Little there was of joy or mirth;
About the borders of the sea
The sea folk wandered heavily;
About the wintry river side
The weary fishers would abide.
Alone within the weaving-room
The girls would sit before the loom,
And sing no song, and play no play;
Alone from dawn to hot mid-day,
From mid-day unto evening,
The men afield would work, nor sing,
’Mid weary thoughts of man and God,
Before thy feet the wet ways trod.
Unkissed the merchant bore his care,
Unkissed the knights went out to war,
Unkissed the mariner came home,
Unkissed the minstrel men did roam.
Or in the stream the maids would stare,
Nor know why they were made so fair;
Their yellow locks, their bosoms white,
Their limbs well wrought for all delight,
Seemed foolish things that waited death,
As hopeless as the flowers beneath
The weariness of unkissed feet:
No life was bitter then, or sweet.
Therefore, O Venus, well may we
Praise the green ridges of the sea
O’er which, upon a happy day,
Thou cam’st to take our shame away.
Well may we praise the curdling foam
Amidst the which thy feet did bloom,
Flowers of the gods; the yellow sand
They kissed atwixt the sea and land;
The bee-beset ripe-seeded grass,
Through which thy fine limbs first did pass;
The purple-dusted butterfly,
First blown against thy quivering thigh;
The first red rose that touched thy side,
And over-blown and fainting died;
The flickering of the orange shade,
Where first in sleep thy limbs were laid;
The happy day’s sweet life and death,
Whose air first caught thy balmy breath—
Yea, all these things well praised may be,
But with what words shall we praise thee—
O Venus, O thou love alive,
Born to give peace to souls that strive?
“
| — |
William Morris, The Hill of Venus. (Specifically the ‘song’ section of Morris’ poem.) 1870. (via theheadlesshashasheen) |
Camera Orion
Credit & Copyright: John GauvreauExplanation: Orion, the Hunter, is one of the most easily recognizable constellations in planet Earth’s night sky. But Orion’s stars and nebulas don’t look quite as colorful to the eye as they do in this lovely camera image, taken early last month at the Black Forest Star Party from Cherry Springs State Park in Pennsylvania, USA. In this single exposure, cool red giant Betelgeuse takes on a yellowish tint as the brightest star at the far left. Otherwise Orion’s hot blue stars are numerous, with supergiant Rigel balancing Betelgeuse at the upper right, Bellatrix at the upper left, and Saiph at the lower right. Lined up in Orion’s belt (bottom to top) are Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka all about 1,500 light-years away, born of the constellation’s well studied interstellar clouds. And if the middle “star” of Orion’s sword looks reddish and fuzzy to you, it should. It’s the stellar nursery known as the Great Nebula of Orion.
