text:
This tumblr's for all the great men and women of science for whom we owe our current understanding of the natural world; their achievements, their failures, and even their quirks, we celebrate them all.
For Science. For Inquiry. For Humanity.
Short-tailed fruit bat (Carollia perspicillata)
Lateral (top) and ventral (bottom) views of stage 19 bat embryos as viewed by reflected light (left) or after alcian blue staining and clearing (right).
photo by Chris Cretekos and Richard Behringer
The Biological (Im)Plausibility of Dragons
Developmental biology dictates that only certain morphological patterns are possible in the domains of life as we know it. Things like bilateral symmetry and head/tail patterning are all subject to the intricate balance and blending of biological signals from embryo to adult.
But let's forget all that for a minute.
What would it take to create a dragon, biologically? You know, wings, extra forelimbs, flight … FIRE. Check out the link above for the deep developmental bio answer.
Time to go mad scientist on a chicken?
(via Mad Art Lab, drawing by Eugene Aurenhaus)
(via 2voyager)
"If you know how to look, our body becomes a time capsule that, when opened, tells of critical moments in the history of our planet and of a distant past in ancient oceans, streams, and forests.
Changes in the ancient atmosphere are reflected in the molecules that allow our cells to cooperate to make bodies. The environment of ancient streams shaped the basic anatomy of our limbs. Our color vision and sense of smell has been molded by life in ancient forests and plains. And the list goes on.
This history is our inheritance, one that affects our lives today and will do so in the future." - Neil Shubin(From his brilliant book "Your Inner Fish: A Journey into the 3.5-Billion-Year History of the Human Body" which I'd surely recommend if you haven't read it already)
The Cell's Muscles and Bones
Cell movement begins with lamellipodia. A thin sheet of actin filaments (light purple) that stretches out to the cell's periphery, lamellipodia generate pushing forces that drive the cell forward. Microtubules (cyan) can barely penetrate this actin network, but they direct cell motility in other ways, such as controlling cell adhesion and acting as the cell's internal compass.
Image: A human HaCat keratinocyte responds to epidermal growth factor by rapidly forming a lamellipod around most of its perimeter. The cell was fixed and processed within minutes after EGF addition. F-actin is stained with fluorescently labeled phalloidin (light purple), and microtubules are labeled with an antibody (cyan). DNA dye stains the nucleus dark purple.
'From Fertilisation to Implantation'
An inside look into early human development! This video explores fertilisation to implantation.
(Source: ohyeahdevelopmentalbiology)
Is cloning an organism the same as cloning a gene?
You've heard about cloning animals - sheep, mice, even house pets - in the news. From time to time, you may have also heard about researchers cloning, or identifying, genes that are responsible for various medical conditions or traits.
What is the difference?
Cloning an animal, or any other organism, refers to making an exact genetic copy of that organism. The techniques used to clone organisms are described on this page.
Cloning a gene means isolating an exact copy of a single gene from the entire genome of an organism. Usually this involves copying the DNA sequence of that gene into a smaller, more accessible piece of DNA, such as a plasmid. This makes it easier to study the function of the individual gene in the laboratory.
Have you ever wondered how scientists work with tiny molecules that they can't see? Here's your chance to try it yourself! Sort and measure DNA strands by running your own gel electrophoresis experiment.
All the fun of Gel Electrophoresis, with none of the mess!
(Source: ohyeahdevelopmentalbiology)
How genes are transcribed and translated
Xenopus laevis organizer
These twinned Xenopus laevis embryos were generated by grafting the dorsal inductive tissue of the Spemann Organizer into the ventral region of a gastrula-stage host embryo. An antibody stain for the epitope Tor70 (dark brown) reveals both the native and secondary notochords.
Image(s) by Andrea Wills (2007 Woods Hole Embryology Course)
Blastoderm stage Drosophila embryos
Images courtesy Nipam Patel
Top embryo: Hunchback (red), Giant (green), DAPI: nuclei (blue)
Bottom embryo: Paired (red), DAPI: nuclei (blue)


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Are you interested in a Florida Keys short sale property? The Florida Keys real estate market allows those looking to purchase a home or a condo a fantastic opportunity to live in a place that most people consider a tropical paradise. Living in paradise, however, comes at a premium. A great way to break into this market is by purchasing a Florida Keys short sale property. Short sale homes and condos in the Keys offer some of the best real estate deals in the Florida Keys, often allowing buyers to find fantastic homes at an even better price. Throughout the Keys, from Key Largo to Key West, the Florida Keys MLS contains a large number of these great deals to choose from, including waterfront properties and more.
Manufactured home, expanded and hardened on site. Cozy, quiet, relaxing, adult development, great community atmosphere. Nice condition, plus extra room for office/den. Quarterly fee approx $700 plus variable water and sewer charges. Adjacent vacant lot (#80, Altkey# 8589824, 2312 sqft) also available for additional $70,000. Vacant lot will not be sold separately. Short-sale subject to third-party approval.
Amazing 1 bedroom, 1 bath condo rebuilt after Wilma, end unit, extra windows, new appliances, tile floors, Staron countertops, custom blinds, utility room with stackable washer/dryer. The only unit with dockage. Close to Key West. Owner is a Licensed Florida Real Estate Agent, but not the Listing Agent.
SHORT SALE! TRANSIENT Rental licensed unit in OLD TOWN Key West. This adorable condo is in good condition and is one of the few transient units now available in Key West! ONLY 3 blocks from Duval St. Owner can manage themselves OR put in vacation rental program. Please note is is a single room with a bath. There is no separate bedroom or living area.
Remodeled bathroom, Doors all 36inch opening, New Roof in July 2010 and electric service up-graded. Handicapped ramp and porch floor can be removed if new owner does not need.
Short Sale. Ground floor 2 bedroom / 2 bath condo. Unit needs work. Complex has pool, clubhouse and assigned parking. Close to schools, shopping, grocery store and movie theater.
Updated and well maintained home on corner lot. Very convenient to all Marathon amenities. Could easily have a 2nd bedroom and bath. Tenant Occupied, so notice is required, 24 hours appreciated.This property is a potential Short Sale and the commission if altered by the lender will be split 50-50.
Owner occupied, short sale, mobile home, dry lot, call for detail
Live in the treetops! This charming efficiency gives the feeling of living on a boat almost with its galley kitchen! Your outside deck is your extended living area, perfect for Key West! Located in heart of old town, one block from the Seaport! Own a piece of Old Key West without breaking the bank and be in the center of it all! There are no inside appliances. Would need to re-configure or install. Used to have an all in one (stove/fridge etc.) Refigerator on outside deck. Owners used portable appliances. This is a short sale.
Great opportunity to own. All brand new in 2006. This is a potential short sale. THESE PROPERTIES ARE TENANT OCCUPIED, PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB...THESE PROPERTIES COME WITH A CURRENT LEASE
Great opportunity to own. All brand new in 2006. This is a potential short sale. THESE PROPERTIES ARE TENANT OCCUPIED, PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB...THESE PROPERTIES COME WITH A CURRENT LEASE
Great little fixer upper home in one of the best neighborhoods in Marathon with a boat ramp close by. Huge yard with plenty room for a pool. Currently vacant. Needs concrete repairs and is not connected to central sewer.
SHORT SALE. Must see inside. This cute conch home has had some updating with tile, marble, brick pavers, metal roof, etc. Larger than appears from outside. Large back yard completely fenced in for privacy. Needs some work on Fascia and to be hooked up to sewer as well as a new front door.
Short Sale. Nice remodel in 2010.Needs TLC,mostly cosmetic. Cherry style cabinets and granite tops. Stainless appliance. Bamboo floors in master bedroom and private bath. short quiet street and large grassy yard.
Brand new construction 2006, never been sold. Great location.This is a potential short sale that may be subject to third party approval. THESE PROPERTIES ARE TENANT OCCUPIED, PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB. THESE PROPERTIES COME WITH LEASES IN PLACE.
Great little duplex.Live in one side and rent the other.Or get a great investment and rent both units out.In the middle of Marathon, Walking distance to everything
Cozy, one bedroom, one bath condo located on the second level with private balcony. Great amenities to include, boat dockage for annual fee, tennis, pool and trailer storage. Deep water access to the ocean. Off street and some covered parking available.
Ocean Reef! Short Sale! Great Investment Property. Potential short sale subject to lender approval. Listing price may not be sufficient to cover all encumbrances, closing costs, or other seller charges. Commission may be adjusted by 3rd party lender.
Property has water views of Florida Bay. Built in 1948 and remodeled in 2006.Still retains the charm of a conch cottage. Yard is completely fenced and gated. Property record card shows 672 S/F living area. Seller enclosed porches to expand on the living area.
BANK WILL TAKE $205,000! ISLAMORADA CONCH HOUSE ON LARGE LANDSCAPED PRIVATE LOT! Short sale. Subject to lenders approval. Listing price may not be sufficient to cover all encumbrances, closing costs, or other seller charges; and sale of property at full listing price may be conditioned upon approval of third parties.
Adorable 2/2 home, open floor plan, tucked away in the trees. Laminate wood floors in living area, spacious covered porch. Boat ramp right around the corner. This was a bank Approved Short Sale for $210,000. It will have to be resubmitted.

subset: commoncrawl


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About The Walt Disney Studios
For more than 85 years, The Walt Disney Studios has been the foundation on which The Walt Disney Company (NYSE: DIS) was built. Today, the Studio brings quality movies, music and stage plays to consumers throughout the world.
The Walt Disney Studios encompasses the creation, production, promotion, sales, acquisition and domestic and international distribution of live-action and animated motion pictures, home entertainment releases, music and soundtrack recordings, and live stage plays. Feature films are released under the following banners: Disney; Walt Disney Animation Studios; Pixar Animation Studios; Disneynature; Marvel Studios; and Touchstone Pictures, the banner under which live-action films from DreamWorks Studios are distributed. The Disney Music Group encompasses the Walt Disney Records and Hollywood Records labels, as well as Disney Music Publishing. The Disney Theatrical Group produces and licenses live events, including Disney on Broadway, Disney On Ice and Disney Live!.
Defining the future of entertainment
Our executive team provides the guidance and leadership that ensures The Walt Disney Studios continues to tell compelling stories that connect with audiences around the world through music, movies and live entertainment.
Alan Horn
Chairman, The Walt Disney Studios
Sean Bailey
President, Production, Walt Disney Studios Motion Picture Production
Alan Bergman
President, The Walt Disney Studios
Ken Bunt
President, Disney Music Group
Dr. Ed Catmull
President, Walt Disney and Pixar Animation Studios
Kathleen Kennedy
President, Lucasfilm, Ltd.
John Lasseter
Chief Creative Officer, Walt Disney and Pixar Animation Studios, Principal Creative Advisor, Walt Disney Imagineering
Paul Roeder
Vice President, Global Communications
Thomas Schumacher
President, Disney Theatrical Group
Leslie Stern
Senior Vice President, Franchise Management, The Walt Disney Studios
Ricky Strauss
President, Marketing, The Walt Disney Studios
Carolyn Wilson
Senior Vice President, Human Resources, The Walt Disney Studios


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"No Jony, you're just really vain." - Steve Jobs
Also, the most important thing that Jony Ive learned from Steve Jobs.
Source: youtube.com
I knew it!
This folks, is how you write copy for your analytics conference. Well done by my old mates at Mixpanel.
Event link here: https://mixpanel.com/ddc2014/
"Connect with friends and the world around you on Facebook." pic.twitter.com/W3hLsGoIoF— Spencer Chen (@spencerchen) March 25, 2014
Billionaire Jack Ma teaches you how to be successful in life and business - Vulcan Post
Some of my favorite quotes and insights from Jack Ma. I read a few of these multiple times. Just some absolute nuggets here from the man that built the biggest Internet properties in China.
"Don't even trust that you are able to unify what everyone is thinking; it is impossible."
"A leader should have higher grit and tenacity, and be able to endure what the employees can't."
"Only fools use their mouth to speak. A smart man uses his brain, and a wise man uses his heart."
"A real businessman or entrepreneur has no enemies. Once he understand this, the sky's the limit"
"The opportunities that everyone cannot see are the real opportunities."
"A great opportunity is often hard to be explained clearly; things that can be explained clearly are often not the best opportunities."
"Forget the money; Forget about earning money."
"The most unreliable thing in this world is human relationships."
"Today is cruel, tomorrow will be worse, but the day after tomorrow will be beautiful."
More here.
Frontback: ¿el sucesor de las fotos selfies? - CNN Chile
In James Earl Jones' voice, "Frontback is on CNN."
Can Facebook Paper make my friends less dumb?
Tips for Taking a Great Frontback
You've probably noticed Frontback is unlike most photo apps you've tried. That's by design. The Frontback Team is constantly striving to provide you with a differentiated and unique experience every time you take a photo.
Here are a few of our favorite tricks for taking great Frontbacks:
Sounds familiar…
Fullscreen, vertical orientation for photos in Facebook? Hmmm, sounds familiar 😉 https://t.co/eJZtPd4kPm #frontback— Spencer Chen (@spencerchen) January 30, 2014
An app that prevents you from sleeping with a relative. Yup, sounds right. http://t.co/u1sk7KNIeg— Spencer Chen (@spencerchen) January 28, 2014
Tear Down #25: Booth Babes are Bad, Google Goes Nuts & Facebook Unravels (Its Apps)
Also, support our sponsor, Audible (free stuff!).
Episode number 25!!!
In this episode we debate whether booth babes work, why Google bought Nest, and Facebook's mobile unbundling strategy.
Guests are:
- Spencer Chen (@spencerchen),…
Where I discuss tech's top issues…from Google to booth babes.
News report from 1981 about the Internet.
News report from 1981 about the Internet.
The newspapers absolutely blew it. They had blogging technology back in 1981.
Why Snapchat is worth $3B.
(via lulz-time)


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This week's Featured Skater is Brookie Hellion #29
Check out this Roller Derby game : Impact City Roller Derby
"Skate Fast; Hit Hard"
This game looks amazing and super complicated. The little player pieces are so cute. Has anyone played this game? I've seen the 'JammerUp' game, but this board looks a lot more realistic.
The intricacies come at a cost, however. On Amazon, the 'Impact City game retails at $40. 'JammerUp' on the other hand is $29.99
Like Impact City Roller Derby Board Game on FaceBook
Thanks to the nearly 100 of you who have responded thus far. Please continue sharing this, as while this is good start to determine rough travel distances, more data is needed to determine overlaps between leagues.
Original request: I've been curious as to how far people travel to their home league. Do they travel further to more well known leagues? How big is the overlap between members of various leagues? (Do they cross paths on their way to practice?)
Add your info HERE
Support your local roller derby league and get your wheels shined!
The Pottstown Roller Derby Rockstars will be at Brusters Real Ice Cream,241 W. Ridge Pike; Royersford, PA, on Saturday, August 10, 2013 11am - 2pm, ready to wash your car!
PRDR's Intra-League bout was a success.
Damage Incorporated came out on top 243-208 over The Flogging Mollies.
A special shout out to Emma and Ashley, who were there representing the wonderful organization Girl Power 2 Cure.
If you took pictures at the bout last night, post some to our fan page for a chance to win 2 free tickets to our upcoming September bout!
Check out our bout schedule HERE!


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The McKinney Group specialises in Property Development Management through acquisition, planning, appraisal, funding, leasing and construction. We act for private development equity and advise clients on property related matters in Europe, China and Brazil.
We have recently formed an asset management division to assist clients to actively operate, maintain and upgrade assets with a view to disposal within defined timescales as part of a wider investment policy.
We are currently acquiring income producing assets and redevelopment opportunities on behalf of a number of major London and US based funds.


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Last month, Miami Marlins uber-slugger Giancarlo Stanton made it very clear that he was still unhappy about the way the team handles their business when it comes to building winners. Yet now, in news that can only be taken with a couple of barrels of salt -- given the team's history for being tight ... More >>
The Miami Marlins ended what was an otherwise historically horrendous season in the craziest, most improbable way imaginable: with a walk-off no hitter. Pitcher Henderson Alvarez threw his first career no-hitter. But, because these are the Marlins, it couldn't be just your run-of-the-mill no-hitte ... More >>
Ever since our sister paper's report on Major League baseball players obtaining performance enhancing drugs from the Coral Gables-based clinic, Biogenesis, broke, players have been falling by the wayside via suspensions. But now the biggest fish in the barrel has apparently fallen, as ESPN is repor ... More >>
In keeping with the long and storied tradition of blaming the managers and never, ever the decision making by the ownership and front office, the Miami Marlins have announced that they have fired manager Ozzie Guillen. Marlins baseball operations president Larry Beinfest released a statement: "Aft ... More >>
The Miami Marlins had what you might call a bit of a crappy season. Even though they entered this year super excited about their brand new stadium, their brand new $100 million payroll, their brand new shortstop, their brand new closer, their brand new manager, and being featured on Showtime's The F ... More >>
On the heels of the Miami Marlins' trading away Hanley Ramirez to the Dodgers and Anibal Sanchez to the Tigers and working on a possible deal to send Josh Johnson to the Rangers comes a Forbes report that the Fish are on pace to set the record for drawing the fewest fans to a first-year ballpark sin ... More >>
There are a lot of ways to describe Marlins outfielder Logan Morrison's attitude. Brash, maybe, or better yet, obnoxious. Some would say inappropriate, and the Marlins brass would most certainly add unprofessional. Take a look at his much-followed Twitter feed and you'll see posts that are all of ... More >>
The Party Was Over Before It Began
Rush, Naugle, Loria... and, hey, what's going on in the criminal justice system?
Well, I wanted to post something about last night's Society of Professional Journalist panel on blogging, but since I've been hit with an unexpected wave of intense reporting, I simply don't have the time. Until I can give my nickel's worth, here's what journalist Rebecca Wakefield, who was on the p ... More >>
Did Marlins skipper Jack McKeon ever tell you about the time... ?
South Florida's Smut Doctors broadcast filthy radio to the world
Or, 1,200 highway miles, ten days, nine baseball teams, six stadiums, five games, steroids, and a funeral
Costner and Allen are the upside to The Upside of Anger.
What? You expected team loyalty?
Two Jupiter teams play nice
Hank Greenberg documentary hits a home run


text:
Q Carson
After a while…we went out in the rain
It's the place we live
A place of treachery
A place of trembling hope
And sorrow
A place where centuries of salty tears
Have cried the oceans high
Where the pines, the redwoods, and the oaks
Have fled high to the skies-learning from their earthly mistakes
I want to know it all
But I know I never will
And I want to feel strong
But a feeble human existence can never fulfill
And when the thorn pricks
That's when I'll feel pain
But to the pain I feel when I lose you
Every few months-it is nothing
You were here on the first day
And we know— and He knows
You wont be here for the last
But I hope you will be, for the talks in between
We don't really talk about it
Instead we talk to talk intelligently
And I like that
And you like that
And that is why we're the same
I wonder when I'll have faith
Perhaps, when you have faith
Have faith in me and have trust in my words
Sorrys spread themselves wide-too wide
With every rise of the sun and turn of the tide
Despite the try, despite a determination of independence
They are taken
I worry I lack some sympathy
For I did not cry the day I heard
But you do not cry on the days you die
And you die for quite a few of them
Do you know who knows?
Or do you not care
Does it matter?
For me, it does, and you know, and he knows, and she knows
I scoffed the day I heard you believed
I laughed that I figured you a man of reason
You said you could be both
I still scoff
When I shall count the stars
When I shall breathe evenly
When I shall free the butterflies from the pits of me
That's when I shall-when I shall free you of the blame
I know you deny it
And you may right not deserve it
But when I've read of all the little live things
We too, will be alive
Do you count your lucky stars
Or do you rest assured
I call the arrogance a bluff
I call it today-for tomorrow
The blanket of grey
Which comforts me so nicely
Will always remain a compliment
A compliment, remembered, and not deserved
It's a humbling experience to realize
Not one idea you will think
Will ever be
And it's a disappointment to realize
Some ideas
Ideas of others
You will never even think
In that I call injustice
But no one will make it just
And I will rest aside
Quiet… less than robust
My existence is frightening
So is yours
So is his, so is hers
Though arrogance makes for a fantastic façade
And we're all incredibly concerned
That today will be lost before we have achieved something—anything
Yet too distracted by tomorrow
We fulfill the prophecy, and yes, we lose today
Pride is a thing to tussle with
I want to be proud, but more so, I want you to be proud
Of me
We've been told to not be so proud
To be humble and oh so very honest
Though those before me have proved, time, time again
That to be anyone and to get anywhere,
Humility just won't do
And that's the juxtaposition I live
The contradiction I'll never escape
How to make it all of worth
While upholding a worth of self
Your mood changes with the moon
And I try not to mind
For I know that mine
Is as steady as the tides-not very
*Her pillow covering all of my face*
Her tears suffocating me.
They won't let me breathe.
Her pillow covering all of my face.
The more she tries to pull me out the more I sink into a worse place.
How everything started to get so morose in some robust planet in space.
Where I always took my time to enjoy my one and only grace.
Her pillow covering all of my face.
So I can inhale all her tears from last night's race.
So I can enjoy the silence of our heartbeats.
*Will it get better by any chance?*
*Or any change?*
*Will we be able to embrace?*
To watch her shutting down my full-of-blood face in one glance.
The sacred geometry of chance.
To watch her draw in silver then lick her sorrow as it turns red.
When my veins eventually got the chance to meet their soul mates.
When I got the chance to finally appreciate.
Appreciate the ray that is running towards me screaming love when we both know it's full of hate.
Never thought she'd be hiding from me the key to my fancy world's gate.
Her pillow covering all of my face.
Inhaling her tears.
But I always enjoyed shutting her mouth while listening to her innocent screams.
Then with one glance she was able to read my mind.
She knew it.
Knew well.
That If I died today.
Lots of aliens would be at my funeral.
And she'd tell them about the joyful memories she shared with me.
You know what sucks?
Read it all over again.
Read it all over again with some serenity.
Read it with some dignity.
*Sweaty rusty bed sheets covering her chopped body.*
*Fifty stitches all over her skin.*
But her wide bright eyes will fix the whole picture and make it full of mildness and flaccidity.
Then her screams again teasing my ears and starting up the electricity.
Running through my veins getting me thirsty craving for more intensity.
And if I could.
I'd replace my ink with her blood.
Because I needed my papers to bloom.
Turn it into a meadow on the shape of her eyes.
All of a sudden.
Woke up with nothing to look at other than the bathroom tiles.
Nausea, revulsion, disgust and repugnance.
With nothing to shorten the distance.
Until my eyes started screaming for more of my addictive substance.
One shot.
Got me into watching a huge fight between romance and brilliance.
Smudge my face with her blood and tears.
While all what were flashing before my eyes are the past four years.
Cutting my head open to enjoy the brainwash until something got me to calm down and bear.
A cup of our old cold drink.
Pouring it inside her lungs to drink it happily.
Then after I was done she smiled then spoke through my mind.
That gave me a new brain and a new key that I should've tried.
Went fine until I found the huge gate with no lock in it.
The bus stop that I wouldn't want to leave.
Cause my tears won't.
How will I do such a thing when I can get it all in one night even if I could hold it in for two months?
I'd blast myself to keep my veins full of that drug.
To keep my life full of that love.
To save me from her devil.
A construction of a maniac if you would have looked at it from a different aspect.
*A sick puppy stabbed in the face with a flower.*
A sign of loneliness strikes again.
But I forgot my shoes at the mountain while rethinking my future.
Dreams versus nightmares.
And the winner was her.
Orange and grey is all I can remember.
A beautiful abounded house.
I'd lick her fear within a second.
Eat her up then vomit all of my internal organs to build a wonderful cycle of admired calmness.
Black dress.
Warm cheeks.
Feeding the sad freak.
Hiding in the very first place that people will find love at.
Everlasting one.
The arbitrator behind all my happiness.
Dances for a while and then disappears again.
Light and awareness.
She's the aliveness and energy controlling every apparent motion inside me and all motion in my mind's motion and all mind is her mind.
And all my thoughts and actions are licensed by her.
Empowered out of me and returned to her.
She's the correct consciousness of my mind.
Everything I see.
Do or know is enabled out of me.
It is my mind and my being in use.
To end up falling from the furthest planet into the lowest ground.
To end up where I can never be found.
With her pillow covering all of my face.
by Amber
She longs for his presence
To be able to hold him in her arms
One more time.
She'll never tell him how she feels
She longs to hear the sound of his voice
The way his hazel eyes brighten up when he talks
About something he loves.
How his smile can make her day
The way he isn't capable of doing simple tricks
Although he has been practicing long enough
She loves everything there is
To love about him
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The Banyan Tree (A Tribute to Sally)
by Nat Lipstadt
I am a man, grandfather to four.
Adherent to the same religion,
Breathing through mine eyes,
Exhaling carbon words,
That with time and pressure become
Poems, verbal musical notes upon life.
Each motion, from tiny to grand,
A capsule of expression,
That if examined under microscope,
Familial DNA, interconnected tissue,
Discovered, tho logic says,
Time and distance render impossible.
But this is a diamond
This is a writ to be slipped
Upon the finger, the heart, the essence,
Of the only Banyan tree I have hugged.
This poem but a fig,
In the cracks of kindness,
The crevices of caring,
It has slow germinated.
You dear, Sally,
My host,
A building upon I can lean,
When wearied spirits uproot
My surficial composure.
Your seeds carried from east to west,
By a fig wasp, a bird unknown,
An ocean voyager, of indisputable vision, strength.
This seeded messenger, word carrier,
Supplanted in me, and your pupils,
Whose very names breathe poems,
in others too, like me and Atu,
Seeds to become new roots, but you,
Our Host official and forever
Planter of trees of loving kindness.
You already know with love and affection,
I call you Grandma Sally,
And when you ask, beseech,
I cannot refuse.
Together we will will banish the sad,
Acknowledge we, that life's ocean,
A mixture of many, even sad, a necessity.
But I promise that will turn it into
Something simple, something good.
For you have asked and I answer you
Right here right now - your wish,
My objective, deep rooted like you,
Like an old banyan tree,
Your roots spread far, spread wide.
So some eve, when to the beach, to the sky
You glance, smile, no matter what, troubles dispersed,
For the reflection of you, seeds, full fledged trees now,
Bending skywards, in search of your rays of expression,
Your maternal wisdom rooted, spread so wide, globally,
All over this Earth, is visible from your
Beloved Philippines.
**In her own words..
I am a widow,
with five remarkable granddaughters….
all beautiful, intelligent girls.
It is such a waste not to write….
each morning that unfolds is filled
with things to write about….
the people, the birds,
the trees, the wind,
the seas,
everything we set our eyes on,
they are all
poetry in motion.
Life itself is poetry,
I always have pen and paper within reach.
My past experiences are a
never-ending source
of ideas and words for my poems….
I shall write until time permits me,
"til there's breath within me."**
A banyan (also banian) is a fig that starts its life as an epiphyte (a plant growing on another plant) when its seeds germinate in the cracks and crevices on a host tree (or on structures like buildings and bridges). "Banyan" often refers specifically to the Indian banyan or Ficus benghalensis, the national tree of India,[1] though the term has been generalized to include all figs that share a characteristic life cycle…
Like other fig species (which includes the common edible fig Ficus carica), banyans have unique fruit structures and are dependent on fig wasps for reproduction. The seeds of banyans are dispersed by fruit-eating birds. The seeds germinate and send down roots towards the ground.
The leaves of the banyan tree are large, leathery, glossy green and elliptical in shape. Like most fig-trees, the leaf bud is covered by two large scales. As the leaf develops the scales fall. Young leaves have an attractive reddish tinge.[6]
Older banyan trees are characterized by their aerial prop roots that grow into thick woody trunks which, with age, can become indistinguishable from the main trunk. The original support tree can sometimes die, so that the banyan becomes a "columnar tree" with a hollow central core. Old trees can spread out laterally using these prop roots to cover a wide area.
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Caught between empty sheets
by James Mellin
I can fake a smile.
I can pretend that I'm okay ….
but I'm only in denial.
My hearts been chained I've been imprisoned by shame..
I'm fine F for forsaken
I for insecure
N for neurotic
and E for EMPTY.
A few more fags
a couple more beers
and I'll be able to ignore my pain till Tomorrow
that doesn't change the fact that I'm Hollow.
Caught between empty sheets I lie
awake and think of a way so I can
drown in your tranquil eyes..
The grass will never be greener my heartstrings
tug at a brighter tomorrow.
A few more lonely nights a couple more mind numbing days
and I just might live to see the light without its enemy, sorrow.
Tears run down my cheek today my dear but I'll never blame
maybe tomorrow I'll learn to live without the pain….
Caught between empty sheets the monsters inside my mind
will surely haunt me ,the more the better all
I have to do is understand your honest letter…
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by Star T64
**bildings in roowins
I rite with brokin-hand**
it is the year of the unlord-tyms 2085
and skool hadbin abolishd since fyv decades
evrything in disrepair -
no hospitills no parks
no creche no greens
all grey and dark
now here I lie amid the rubble
I see they took my legs for under-market
what else did they take?
damn bastards!
belly rumbles
the last I'd eaten was 2 days on
a chunk of hard-bread whose colour would turn envy in its boots
with artifishal-milk whose curdled smile greeted the back of my arid existence
damn bastarrrrrrds! they put me under, sawed off my legs
left me hobbling with jagged wounds and smirk-pain like hot-rods searing my brand-new stubs
elementary-bandage of an old sheet torn into strips…
wait, I must use this anger as fuel to get me going
she told me so
many, many times..
*(I can remember my mother reading to me
reciting from her memory
they had burnt evry-single-book Man had ever known
My eyes have never been graced with a book
she tort me words with stick in sand
and counting with stones
and there were many stones
she fed me poetry when there was little else to eat
with fainting-body and starving-belly
my mind took pleasure in her ultimate-care
she told me of a time when childrin took poor-interest
in the blessings of a book.. wen their minds were swallowed wholemeal by what they called media, I think
when they were not saddled with the worry of their next meal's magical-appearance
(I can spell 'their' at least, yes.. she made sure I knew the difference)
the only pictures I saw were the ones she drew for me
in the volcanic beach-sand when we ran away from the parasitic-city
I knew nothing of the world but what I saw around me
- decay, decay, decay
until she brought me colour - rite into the hart of me -
blooms that hurt at first, so bright and giving
that it saturated every molecule in my parched-centre
and I became a rainbow-suffused capsule in a otherwise drab-society
such wonder she spoke with open-eyes and loving-tones
and I also remember.. the day they took her..
I remember.. too much)*
I crawl forward like a snake in the .. wait, *what was that expreshin again*?
I'll think later when I find a place to harbour my broken-body
thought is a luxury here
thers a horrible smoke in the air
stings me so
and I miss her so
I have nobody left
but I cannot feel forsaken, as so many do
and succumb to self-pity
she made sure my armour grew
from the inside.. first
and I took it with disbelief painted on my face
the things she told me about..
*I cannot believe there once were -
green fields and trees with chirping birds
a blue sky
blue? not possible
I've never seen a blue sky
I think she was being kind to paint me portraits of psychedelia
to entertain and distract me
from the horror of our lives
I heard tales of things called flowers - daisies and things
like vegetables and fruit
it seemed funny to me - little beings in the ground,
standing rooted, awaiting harvest-hands
just for people??
no.. such depth of kindness I can hardly imagine
for we have had only **hard**-earth.. most concreted
and drank only brack-water from collapsing pipes
no, an unforgiving-scene is all I know
she is so kind to feed me such fantasy-tales of deep-imaginashin
pity she could not tell any others
for any tenth-of-a-whisper of this to any wrong-ear
and her head would roll
in the gutter.. where we lived in contest with rats
she could only rally my mind and relay things which would die with her
things that she bequeaths
to me
what will I do with it? this legacy of forgotten-paradise..
what can I do? this wonder-clad heresy..
I now know thers a way out these city walls
ther is a life beyond
with valleys and rivers and salty-seas
I must try to find a river
she told of oceans which live - which heave and swell and move!
she said these things too .. they exist
what quaint-things, indeed
oh, for dreems..
but now, I must off the streets
for a **double**-darkness has begun to fall
when red-eyes will scour the streets for scraps of flesh
anything is worth a barter
even a dead-man in a lane whose eyeballs are gone
harshly-hacked out living - by a previous-visitor
becomes a piece of currency for seekers of the dark
I don't know what they've done to her.. or where she is now..
yet, she always said - keep moving
keep searching
for blue-sky and flowing-rivers and yellow-flowers..
I wonder if it's real
I do believ her - I must)*
now I scrape on in haste into a darkening-alley
towards a derelict-bilding
whose sinister-interior is the only welcome it can afford me
I have little choice
no time for sentiment
plus, I feel a fever coming (perhaps **this** is all the dreem.. and she is the only-flower I know)
the night-Rats will come out soon
and I hate their stink
it doesn't help I leave a trail of blood..
only hoap lives
in hobbled-soul
as I rite on with brokin-hand
onto the back-pages.. of my mind**
S T - 5 octoblah
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Dear Lover
by Pvnda X
dear lover,
i miss you. even though i've never met you, i can still feel your energy from a thousand miles away.
a face that can make men go to war for you. your smile makes time move slow, everything in the world makes sense. i find comfort in your love and warmth in your presence.
lover. i fell in love with your words, everything you uttered was. beauty personified in words. that deep energetic vibe from your soul makes me want to dance in your. elegance.
i fell in love with your mind, and i fell deep within your subconscious. a trance i was in. you're my intellectual crush. you had me on my knees, you had me intellectually lovin' you.
i had a dream we were both dancing to Eros' beautiful rhythm. nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart, baby don't think im out to hurt you. not my intention.
i fell in love with you and i never knew. falling in love with you was never my plan. but i guess it was God's plan. we'll never know.
even though we've never met. i can still remember the sound of your heartbeat, your voice so sweet like the heavens. and your movement so graceful. graceful. you're like a Raven - innocent, beautiful, sweet.
my heart just skipped a beat.
beautiful soul. speak to me. i saw the beauty of life through you, beautiful soul. and even though we've never met, lover. i miss you.
you got a lotta soul, lady. that's beautiful.
all i wanna do is admire your beauty from a distance because im afraid if i touch you. my flesh will be tempted to do all that is regarded. earthly.
i'll prolly luh you fo'eva. let me escape through you in thought. beautiful lover. beautiful soul.
"touch me with your mind. hands are overrated & 'soul' is overused."
the closest stranger i've never met. i became more with you. your lips i will kiss, your hips i will hold, and your love i will embrace. you have my heart. you have the key to my heart.
and the more i think of you, i miss you. even though we've never met, beautiful lover.
our hearts are interlocked in deep conversation. thoughts & feelings in graceful motion, love never known.
i saw us dancing under the moonlight. you wore a silk white dress with Queen Elizabeth's crown upon your head. and me, just a man wearing a white suit with a purple rose in his chest pocket.
and we danced in the cosmos, the stars were watching us - the sun and the moon were playing music only heard in the heavens.
dear lover. beautiful lover. beautiful soul. i love you. i miss you. even though we've never met.
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by Kim Davis
Once there was a girl
Who could feel
A young, playful girl
naturally born to lead
Jumped in front of any camera she saw,
cause she wanted all eyes on her
but one day,
one insignificant, random day
an old lady took a fall
and a dog began its downward spiral towards death
and a neighbor got a wall of weapons stolen
and no more did the girl get attention
but that was her drive, her motivation to live
taken from her, she desperately tried to regain her spirit
but couldn't handle that everything she ever knew was changing on her
and a little girl, third grade, began a path of self destruction.
The natural leader now a follower,
The playful girl turned her interests into other people's pain,
She enjoyed that year the most she could,
secretly hating the old woman, mistreating her
saying her goodbyes to the dog that was there years before she was born,
grades turning from all A's, to B's, to C's, to D's and F's, year by year.
getting rejected just a few times, but overcomplicating it, as she would do everything later,
taking it personal, letting it destroy her
and so the little girl grew,
first into an angry, manipulative version of herself,
she was no longer slender, pretty, or girly in any way.
She was a wreck. No care for herself anymore.
Sharpened her finger with a pencil sharpener.
When mad, would beat herself up.
Demented, but that was just covering a layer of desire for attention.
Something so simple, something everyone has to learn to live without, took such a toll on a little girl, because it was just cut off, one insignificant day.
But one day she got attention again, months after another
insignificant day.
This insignificant day, she remembers,
daddy standing by the mailbox
she was outside playing with neighbors
and she heard daddy talk funny.
A sliver in his voice, that was never there, was it?
and listening, she heard it again,
and she looked at dad, and in his eyes, he wasn't there.
his body, his face, his smile, but his eyes weren't there.
And the little girl ignored it.
But daddy was in pain for months. Didn't tell a soul.
and when that sliver in voice kept going, mom forced him to go to the doctor.
But the sliver wasn't it, there was blood, daddy was coughing blood.
And so the doctor diagnosed it as bronchitis.
But it was deeper than that, it was the big C,
and the little girl knew that daddy saw it coming
his smoking tripled
and he got a recorder so as to record what he was thinking
and there was that night, at her aunts, everyone in the kitchen,
the little girl heard it from a distance,
but she wanted to be wrong, so bad.
She gets in the car with her mom, and receives the news,
but upon seeing her mother crying, doesn't know what to do.
She was supposed to be strong for her mother, everyone expected that of her,
but everyone also expected her to be fragile, and wanted her to cry more than anyone about her dad.
But the conflicting emotions resulted in the girl, not so little anymore, to grow up.
To shut off all human emotion, to be a walking robot. To never cry, never feel.
That made everything pile up in her head.
Daddy had cancer.
Daddy was doing Radiology treatments.
Daddy's treatments were failing.
Daddy was getting skinnier.
Daddy was doing Chemo.
Daddy was trying to kill himself.
Daddy was in and out of the hospital.
Daddy wanted her there.
Daddy *needed* her there.
Daddy cried in front of her and asked, "Why don't you love me anymore?" because she showed her disinterest in tying his shoes for him since he couldnt.
But there's nothing more terrifying, than seeing someone one genuinely cares about in the hospital.
Than being afraid to break the person one loves in half with just a hug.
Daddy was dying, and daddy wouldn't talk all day until she got home, even if it was just a hey and a smile.
To this day, she'd love to say now that she would go back, and do it all differently, show that she loved him, not that she was disgusted in what he'd become, but she knows herself, and she'd shut herself down again in a heartbeat.
Daddy died of three types of cancer,
and the little girl got the attention she'd longed for, but in the form of pity.
But she hated pity.
She stopped doing anything.
Couldn't go out with friends, secluded herself in her mind.
Until she found a way to be herself and get attention, and became someone new.
Then someone else.
Then someone else.
And then the girl was no longer herself, she was someone who made an impact on people.
Someone who people were attracted to,
Someone who had friends,
Someone who had company who couldn't physically show her pity,
company that satisfied her romantic desires, and company that was there when she was down,
and who she could manipulate to her desire, to understand men and women on a deeper level.
And that sweet, playful, little girl, was a monster.
Divided in two, she emoted on a fake half of her, a half that wasn't her, a fake story personified,
what was left of that little girl was skinned, and buried in dirt.
So when the girl had had enough damage inflicted on the sane, but fake side of her,
and was unhappy regardless of who she was that day, at that hour,
she would tell herself it was over, it was time, this should have ended a long time ago,
and her skinned corpse of a soul was trying to crawl out of its grave,
pulled back by the dark cloud it became, and buried again with the fake's love,
because that side of her, with skim, but human emotion,
couldn't bear to hurt people it'd already done enough damage to.
So one day, when she was found out, by best friend and an ex, it was a sigh of relief,
just to feel the air on that hand, reaching up to get out of her grave.
But she didn't know that what followed was losing half the people she loved,
most being the ones she loved most, the most active in her life at the given moment,
And even then, with the remaining few, she felt too awkward in that situation,
too conflicted, that she once again, turned off her emotions.
And now, what's left?
A broken little girl, in a big, damaged carcass, freezing in mud, staring down at her own grave, unable to find her skin.
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An Ode to Transcontinental (A Slam Poem)
by AMA
Where time flew past us, Track remembered.
Blood puckered into iron creases like sweat creased into cracking skin, like backpacks creasing flesh into workers, winter hats pulled down tight flaps clasped
over thick bodied chins.
Teeth clicking, bone on bone.
Hands etching words into old paper. God only knows the silent struggle
of a grown man's life led by slave labour.
A train city creased us. Increased us.
Relieved us. A train nation gone brazen looking for more
ways they could forget to feed us.
Ouch. Did that hurt you, because we can't even imagine the half of it. Sweaty
palms hanging open over the edges of church pews asking
God and Mohammed, "Can I see my kids yet?"
Transcontinental rail turned into transcendental jail, where struggle
lived in secret and papa time tried to eat it,
but we can't beat it.
The train people sit in the pocket of your favorite jeans, humming along
as you carry yourself from brick wall to carpet, from concrete to sidewalk.
From cobblestone to a happy home, never touching a blade of precious grass, never thinking
twice about how you got here, who put that there, who's fault was that.
Who made your shoes? Was it God? Was it you?
When my cell phone stops working I get angry
because i'm privileged.
I thought I deserved every ounce of the world as long as I could afford to
pay homage, pay off damage. Pay to forget about it as long as somebody else
got half-paid to fix it.
Stay famished.
Selfishness was studious and righteousness was fearlessness.
Ignorance was a light
that I tried not to see in my suburban bedroom at night
when the television stopped flashing pink and bright and my
parents started to fight.
I went to amusement parks when I was a kid because danger
was treated like halloween. I wanted to dress up
like the scared girl on lake street and put
candy in my brain; numb. Convince myself we're all the saem.
When I was eighteen I finally understood the meaning of honest work
where pink lemonade was candy, babe, started looking for ways
to get myself hurt.
I picked up my legs and I dirtied my feet.
When I was eighteen I stopped taking the trains.
I couldn't sleep, I couldn't stop moving my feet taking flowers from heart gardens and
stuffing them in my sneaks.
And suddenly, the guilt got heavy. The weight of a world bent on social levy, relying
on injustice to keep it steady, and when I asked myself
"what can I do, what do I see?" everything fell through, like a labored life falls through a forgotten memory.
And the only thing i could take with me was,
"Be careful who you choose to be."
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Sinan (Drum)
by Larry Potter
They say, in the wheel of life, you'll spend half your years rising to the top and the other half tumbling to the bottom. I guess they got it all wrong. I believe life is a crooked tire that can never roll up and down. Pretty sure, it is nailed to the ground where weeds could grow to entangle it forever. Until now, what they keep trying to say remains a puzzle to me. Perhaps I can never understand what they mean. Or maybe I just won't. Why? Because from the moment our eyes opened for the world, we're already stuck down below and I'm afraid we're trapped here in this limbo for all eternity.
We're just simple people living an ordinary life. Like every family who seeks refuge from the storm, we do have a place we call home although it's not much of an architectural delight. However, for some reasons, I find our roof appealing like a real work of art. Patches of cardboard embellish the underside while a combination of tarpaulin and ad posters works in harmony to provide an extended shelter. On bright mornings, we'll wake from the sunbeams piercing through its many gaps. On rainy days, however, the sound of raindrops falling from the gaps down to our water containers serves as our wake up call.
To jumpstart ourselves for another day's challenge, we could either eat breakfast (if there were any), or just sing our skipping meals away and spend the rest of the day with sacks of scraps and rubbishes on our back hoping to make a good deal with Mr. Gomez, the junk shop proprietor. He reminded me so much of my father but without the alcohol problem and violence, though. During nighttime, we bring with us our drum to sing carols on the lonely streets. If our feet become too weary to walk, that's the time we head home. We rush all together, eager to count the coins we've collected that night. We make sure to put a plastic cap underneath two of our table's feet so that it won't lean uncontrollably and spill the tiers of ten, five and one peso coins we've dedicatedly piled over. Then the next part does the trick. A portion of our collection for the night goes straight down a big jar and joins in the many others which fill more than half of the container. The remaining part is used to buy supper to save our hungry tummies from
shrinking again. However, during slack nights when drivers and busy people decided to become miserly, we're fortunate enough to have a pack of noodles for supper. But if we ran out of luck, we just set our untidy beds ready and drown our raging stomachs to sleep. I know there's not pretty much but this is where our lives revolve. And as they say, life must go on no matter what.
Together with the three most important persons of my life, I continue the journey for a better living. Along the way, we try to search for the good things out of life's bitter truths. We never let misery kill our hopes and dreams. Instead, we work harder and tougher. Take Islay, for example. She's cheerful,
clever, aggressive, talented, a model of hard work. She's got most of everything. Well, except for height, probably. I wanted to be a doctor so I could help the needy. Islay dreams of becoming an elementary teacher. She said she really likes kids and teaching them would surely be a more exciting thing to do.
Then there's Nova. Her looks may require you a little more time to think and consider, but she has a good heart. However, she gets a little, uhhm, what term do we use for an unsociable person? That's it! She's a bit of a Killjoy!
Islay and Nova caroled a store swarmed with drunkards. It was always Islay who'll find every creative idea and propose it convincingly to Nova, who in turn hesitates and rejects it but then ultimately respects it in the end. Islay always has the winning edge. Maybe that's one of her abilities. Her convincing power deserves a credit to the list.
The two didn't mind the booze that welcomed them. Inside her mind, Nova asked herself how many people could waste their money on a doze of liquid or spirit that can poison their mind and bring them to imminent danger. If only they have given it to the poor and needy, they could have saved a lot of lives instead of ruining their own.
But Aling Nena, the wicked storeowner, unleashed her witchy wrath to the two. She looked at them with eyes of contempt, of prejudice and disgust. She accused the two as jinxes and blamed them for the
store's unprofitable end. If only she could look at herself and discover a chest of shimmering blame, she might shrink into shame. Islay and Nova ran off not because they were afraid of Aling Nena or the drunken men but because of what Aling Nena said to them. They cannot defend themselves from such
an attack. How could they when they were surrounded with eyes of ridicule?
And of course, there's my dearest sister, Juaning. We've only got each other since our mother's death. It has been months already. Juaning was still 15 when mama left us. She's 16 now. It's been quite a while and I know she misses mama a lot like I do.
And so they fought life's bitter realities. They begged and implored to the unconcerned passers-by, almost falling to their weak knees for one very important thing - to live. But even if the three of them were sitting, lying, and rolling down the cold pavement, these people with more graces just pass by without even sparing a glance of concern. Wouldn't it be happier if they shared their God-given blessings? But as the day continues, they have to endure the hunger, the contempt. Because other than filling their
hungry stomach, they have a sibling, a friend to support.
That's my part of the story. It has been months now since I caught a serious illness which bound me
to this bed, flat on one's back, weak, inutile, and useless. Every time they come home, I wish I was with them to taste the sweet and feel the pain, not just a good listener to their stories of survival and moments of friendship. Someday, I'll become strong again, and this curse of a disease shall be gone.
I woke up to the longing for water. I've never been this thirsty before. I called out their names but my voice just echoed deep in the four dark walls of our crooked house. With no one to help me, I summoned my strength and decided to get a glass of water by myself. But my legs aren't as strong as my will. And as I attempted to stand, they betrayed me. I collapsed and plodded down the floor. Luckily Islay came and helped me get back to bed. She scolded me for being careless. I cried. I can't help it. I pitied myself all
over again.
The cold evening wasn't a problem for Islay. Seeing me cry like that crushes her heart. I know, as a friend and a part of our family, she wishes the best for me. And that's why she's still out there in the middle of the night, working late to earn more for our better future. She ignored the chills and the exasperation. She knows she has to work harder and she's more than determined for it.
But something happened to me while she's away from home. I cannot move my body, not even my mouth. Tears just fell from my weary eyes. And before it's too late, Juaning caught me unresponsive and paralyzed. My sister cried for help. Nova sprinted to get the jar. Juaning told her what to do. And wasting no time, Nova rushed to the nearby pharmacy to get me some medicine, and most probably to save my life.
But Nova's effort was in vain. Prescription drugs cannot be bought that easily. The pharmacist closed down the only lining of hope for me. The security guard felt pity on Nova and he suggested her an alternative decision that will change our lives forever.
Islay was still busy serenading the busy streets with her chants of joy and sweet hums. But the clouds become unwelcoming. And by the sound of the thunder, big droplets of rain started pouring down the highway. She ran as fast as she could and sat on a corner where she thought of something deeply. She hugged the drum that she was carrying for five hours or so and tried to remain calm in the presence of the bad weather.
After half an hour, Nova came back with a pouch of medicine on her shaking hand. She handed it carefully to Juaning whose faith and hope were hanging to the tiny bottle of miracle.
Days gone by and my condition wasn't going any better. It turned out that my medicine was consumed to the last drop. Still I remained immobile and my hands are going number by the days. Slowly I was losing hope. I wish they weren't mad at me. I'm trying my best to live on. That's why I'm still here. But Nova shared something worth listening to. She revealed how and where she got the medicine.
It was from a quack doctor on a stall put up on the corner of Rizal Avenue. She said he was well versed and very convincing. And that she spent all of our savings for a bottle of deception. But we can do nothing about it. We did not have formal education. We were fortunate enough to meet kind children on
the streets who would try to teach us something they have learned from school. We would attempt to read newspapers and the description in the carton boxes we spread beneath the Badelles overpass.
Nova cried in guilt and shame. Islay was still angry at her, and it can be understood. My sister, Juaning, comforted Nova with a promise that everything will get better in time.
December 27. It was my birthday. And more than anything else, what I wish is for the four of us to be happy. Nothing in this life is more important than seeing everyone you love smile with absolute
happiness. Juaning never forgot her job and that's to buy me a cake. Every year, they will try to surprise me with every creative possible way. But that's how their surprises become predictable with my age.
They sang me a birthday song. But this time, they were the ones waiting for a surprise. As my sister was about to hand me the cake waiting for me to blow the candle, she noticed something she was least expecting for. My lips are pale and my eyes are shut from the light of the world. I caught my last breath and before I gave it away, I left a smile on my face that can never be changed forever. That is how I want them to remember me. Not that heck of a frown clown whose audiences are stricken with sadness.
They say, in the wheel of life, sometimes, you'll spend half of your years rising to the top and the other half tumbling to the
bottom. Maybe they were right. It was then that I've come to understand what they were trying to say.
Our life's wheel revolves around things way beyond just money, food, and shelter. It is about the moments you spend with your loved ones, friends and family that will be forever carved in your heart. We can never know when our life here on earth will be over. So let us cherish every bit of it. And for me, even if we skip breakfasts and eat only noodles for supper, I have realized in these last fleeting moments that my life has always
been on the top of the wheel after all.
See more poems by Larry Potter, or share your comments:
Room 1648
by Patricia Tsouros
Room 1648
Opening my eyes to
The streaming sun light
Stretching my body
In the heat of the day
To the sound of the sea
How lucky I am
From the 16th floor
Looking out at
Sweeping palm trees
Stretch of South Beach
Echoes of beach life
Resonating all around me
Feeling the freedom of happiness
Of peacefulness
Down at the beach
Sand between my toes
The rolling waves washing
Over me
The taste of salt on my lips
The wind in my face
I lose myself in the expanse of ocean
Glistening under intense sunshine
Your depth of care eventually saving my life
Binding us together as husband and wife
Feeling the freedom of happiness
Of peacefulness
See more poems by Patricia Tsouros, or share your comments:
one day i watched from the top of the rock
by Ilion gray
i watch infinity
dance in the palm of the father
looking on fearful
that he may close his hand
i am faithless in this terrifying land
where men hunt men
disregard and mishandle women
defile children
shaming whatever eyes lie
behind the sky
i trust no one
with a smile
this world has eaten up the smiles
of the trustworthy,
i love no one
fear some devil may come
snatch them away
there is a squeezing of souls
the darkness does
extracting every drop
of happiness
i am always looking for light
it's not where it was
but i wont stop
staring at the emptiness
and calling it clouds
the silence throughout
the corridors is suffocating
yet these days scream so loud
they interrupt everything…
you however
a chasm of light
not dying but slowly dripping
there was always a life
against what we were living
whilst walking in the presence of god
See more poems by Ilion gray, or share your comments:
by Dominique Espiritu
A mirror is never just your reflection,
My mother once said
The mind has this devilish way of
Things around
Making then a lot more or a lot less
That what stands before me
My face isn't my face anymore
I stare blankly at a blueprint
Society itself has hand-sketched
For me.
Post-it's on where things had gone wrong
Scribbles on things I needed less of
Highlighters on places I needed
Brighter brights
Thinner thins
And I just stood there
As these self-proclaimed architects
The plans they had for a body that wasn't theirs.
The new rooms they had drawn next to the ones that already existed,
The ones that were always there
The ones I made a home out of,
The mole on my ear
That never seemed out of place
The impact of a critical post it told me so.
The place where my thighs met
I've always ignored,
Assuming I was normal
But the scribbles that
For less of me,
Proved otherwise.
The marks of stretched skin
I considered battle scars over a few calories at a buffet table
By society's architects
As if it were up to them
Like human came in the form of overruns
But I stare at this blueprint that suggests to change me from
Floor to floor
Head to toe
And wonder
If the one who owns the lot in which I am
If He wanted to change me anymore than them
If He liked the original rooms
More than the ones carved to fit the trends
If He wanted me to ignore the architects
And the drafts of copies
And copies
And copies
Of different versions of me
Didn't He want me to accept the mirror for who I am?
See more poems by Dominique Espiritu, or share your comments:
by whitepalelips
She came into this world
By accident.
Never planned,
But her parents
Didn't regret a thing.
She grew up with
Her hands stretched out,
Hungry for knowledge
And taking in
Everything she
Could reach.
She was only 9 years old,
When she saw both her parents
Screaming at each other.
She didn't understand,
"Why are mummy and
Daddy fighting?"
She asked as tears
Started to fall from
Her eyes to her
Delicate skin.
Her parents sighed as
They knew it wasn't
Working out.
Things were crashing down.
She was only 10 years old
When her daddy left her.
As he carried his bags
Out the door,
She cried,
"Where are you going, daddy?"
He left, without a word.
She grew up,
Without love.
She grew up,
Believing that
Love is the problem.
She never trusted love.
She never wanted love.
She never needed love.
She was only 13
When she took
Her first puff
Of cigarette.
She was hoping
That her misery
Would fade away,
Just like the smoke.
She was only 15
When she was suicidal.
Nobody knew about
Her struggles.
Nobody knew
She cried herself
To sleep, wishing everything
Was different and simple.
Her wrist was like
Her own canvas,
Covered with scars,
New and old.
She was drowning,
In her miseries.
All she wanted
Was someone to save her,
Or least teach her
How to swim,
But no one did.
She was drowning,
As she watched
People around her
Minding their own lives.
Till this day,
She's still
And no one
Cares enough
To save her.
See more poems by whitepalelips, or share your comments:
three types of love
by Jul
a few months ago,
you asked me: "What is love?"
As you can see,
it had taken me a long time to understand the question myself,
but I think I've finally come up with an answer.
the English language
has only one word to describe something that has limitless interpretations.
In Greek,
there are three words for the three basic types of love.
This type of love
is when you find yourself doodling their name
on the inside of your history textbook,
dotting the I's with hearts
as if you are 13 again and you were just asked on your first date.
You chose that textbook
because it will be the only place no one would ever think to look.
You think about everything you would be far too shy to say or act in person,
making out in the back of a movie theatre
not caring who would walk past,
sneaking off away from your friends just to have two measly moments of what you both call "peace."
Most often,
this type of love is encased in "I love you"
only to obtain a certain goal.
a picture,
or even just one more night
of having them in your arms.
Eros is not authentic,
it is emphemeral.
Brotherly Love.
The friend you would drop anything for in a heartbeat to make sure of their wellbeing,
but also the neighbor you see from time to time watering their garden.
They ask you
to tend to their garden while they are away,
and you do it
even though you've never spoken more than a paragraph to the man
because it is what you believe is right.
This type of love is the devotion of time and energy without any promise of compensation in return,
purely out of the good of heart.
Phileo lasts as long as the people do.
The final type of love
is Agape;
unconditional love.
In religion,
we are guided
or pushed
towards showing this type of love towards the diety.
Yet, very rarely
it is shown towards a human being.
Unconditional love
is the ability to say so much with only uttering a single word.
I have experienced this love,
it is great pain
and great sadness
but the feelings of pain will never leave my lips
in case they are transferred to the person i wish to have the least pain.
This kind of love
is when it is not only enough that you think about them every waking moment but every slumber-filled one as well. You have hung up your needs at the front door along with the key to your heart and devoted yourself entirely to them,
even if they don't reciprocate.
They have been adopted by your body and taken the form of a vital organ.
If you do not
pay absolute attention
to them at all times
you will run into many problems.
You need to keep them running smoothly in order to stay alive and healthy,
because without them you are nothing.
You are a sorry sack of bones with a beating heart with no purpose.
Unconditional love is taking all the lessons you have ever learned
all the rights and wrongs you have finally learned the difference between and throwing them out the window.
It is the thin line between sanity and insanity,
heaven and hell,
and safety and danger.
You walk the rope
from building to building
without the promise of a net.
Unconditional love
is authentic,
but not emphemeral.
((Love sucks, don't do it.))
See more poems by Jul, or share your comments:


text:
that was quick............ traded.
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Hey all, got a couple of items I'm looking to get rid of to fund a new purchase so here they are.
First up is my ESP LTD EC-1000 in Vintage Black. I'm sure everyone knows the specs of this sweet guitar: Sperzel locking tuners, Tonepros Bridge, EMG 81/85, Ebony Fretboard and Flag inlays. The guitar itself is in very good condition I'd say, it's never been played in any shows and has always been in a smoke free environment. No dings or dents in this on. Come's with a black ESP Deluxe case. $600
Next is my Madison Divinity All tube head. This one is in very good condition as well and comes with a nice Tweed live-in head case which holds the head very securely. It has an Elegance (clean) channel with a footswitchable boost to give it some extra grit, and a Edge (distortion) channel that is also footswitchable for 2 different distortion voicings giving you a lot of range. Heres a pic from my camera phone, note that the white on the plexi glass front is just a glare from a window. $520
Looking for a combo amp (something versatile), a Line 6 DL4, Boss TU-2 or Korg Pitchblack and some guitars. I'm interested in most Fender style guitars, a beat up Gibson SG Standard or GIBSON model, or a different versatile High Quality import. PM me if you have any questions. Will trade both for the right guitar or amp.
FS:

Agile AL-3000 Tobacco Burst w/HSC - $280 + half shipping cost

Jacksons are sold!
Aria SG Copy: One of the Japanese lawsuit guitars, this one was made in the 70s by Aria and it a 21 fret, bolt-on copy of the Gibson SG. I don't know what woods are there but I would guess mahogany from the weight and sound. It's got some dings/scratches but overall it's in very good shape and feels great. $250+ship/pp
7 string pickups:
DiMarzio X2N7
DiMarzio Blaze 7
$50 shipped each. Will also consider trades for a good 7 string neck humbucker - talk to me. Passives only.
Guitars: Washburn WG-587 | Roter | Fernandes | Tokai

Rig: Fractal Audio Axe-FX Ultra -> ART SLA-2

Bands: Solecism (prog death) | Kisama (black) | Kuroi (brutal) | Embalm (death metal)

Clips/songs (many styles): soundclick|netmusicians

Vids: youtube

( ─━─ ω ─━─ )

p.m. me.........
i have no job, i need moneys. sig.
Trade References

FORSALE!!

Matao MIJ Strat

CLEAN 06 Ringtone Zvex

Great condition THD 16 Ohm Hotplate. No dents, just minor everyday wear. Works perfectly. Not interested in any trades. Asking $225 total, shipped and insured in original box. I do not accept paypal, sorry. Feel free to ask if you have questions.

Great Transactions with: aldog1330, Satan6Stringer, DirtyChains, Jimbo513, enditol, Devnor, FFFDFEFRFKFFF, SoulIncision, & thunderwizard

Digitech 2120. MINT condition. Very little use. Version 2.10. $300 SHIPPED
EMG 81 Set (2). Excellent condition. Comes with (2) 25k pots and Quick connect wiring shown. I am the original owner. $140 SHIPPED for the pair.
Possible Trades + or - Cash:
Line 6 HD147
Vox AD120VTH / AD60VTH
Peavey Transfex head (batteryless modded)
Vox Tonelab ST
Peavey XXL

 Originally Posted by OceansBetweenUs

Cooker, you're comedic gold. I can't tell if you're serious, or just a hyper-troll far advanced beyond mortal's reckoning.

Good deals with: billcheckrules, sahlomonic

WTB: a nice EQ
**************** THE MIDZ CLUB

Great transactions- HivesDestruction (trade), Vinhoff (trade), Dropped_2_c (purchased) , Joe_d (purchased), Boris_the_blade (trade), Jason_86_951 (sold to), Mustaine-who? (purchased) Baja96 (trade), jcm800stratman (purchased), wheresgrant3 (purchased), VinnyH (sold to), Murdock (purchased), dreamspace (sold to)

Add 3% for paypal. Feel free to make offers, though I've tried to price this gear close to the market or below. Decided to thin the collection of things I don't play that often and replace them with nice, shiney new things. Pics will be up later.
Ibanez RGT42DXFM - 24 fret 5pc laminate maple/walnut neck-thru with mahogany body. It's a flat finish, but the top has been polished. Neck was also polished and waxed on the back. One small ding on the top that is hard to see, and a ding on the back side near the input jack that cannot be seen from the front. Unlike any other RGT42DXFM out there. Includes gig bag. $350 shipped.
Ibanez RG760 - Player's condition and priced accordingly. Blue. Wizard neck, 24 fret rosewood fretboard with sharktooth inlays. Edge trem with locking studs. Has some dings, but neck is straight, no crack, and tons of life left in it. If refinished, she'd look like new. $400 with Ibanez hard case.
Ibanez RG1550 Prestige. Black with 24 fret Prestige Wizard maple neck (pretty rare until they brought them back this year). A neck from one of these just went for $250 on ebay by itself, and there's one with a $650 BIN. Has a DiMarzio Air Norton in the bridge and stock pickups in neck and mid. This one has a couple of small edge dings. $450.
1993 Ibanez RG550 white, which has aged to a very nice cream. Excellent shape for a 16 year old guitar. Still has some of the paper backing on the control covers. 24 fret maple Wizard Neck is straight with no cracks behind the locking nut. MIJ neckplate with original waterslide RG550 model decal on back of headstock and 1993 serial number. A couple of very minor edge dings, but otherwise a stock/mint example. Comes with HSC. $450.
Ibanez S540FMTT A beautiful guitar. Pre-AANJ square heal neck joint, like the RG's and Jem's. Mahogany body with flame maple top. Transparent Turquoise burst. Lo Pro trem. Exceptional condition except for one problem: it got dinged during shipping near the input jack. It's in the dark part of the burst and can be repaired easily since there was no damage to the wood, just the finish. Asking $350. Includes HSC.
BBE Green Screamer - $55 shipped. Original green model. As close to NIB as can be. Includes box, adapter, warranty card, etc.
BBE Boosta Grande - $45 shipped. Original blue model. As close to NIB as can be. Includes box, adapter, warranty card, etc.
MIJ Boss DD-3 - Project pedal. Worked fine until bonehead friend plugged it into the wrong polarity adapter. Now it works, but also makes lots of noise. Looks like needs some disc capacitors replaced. $40 shipped.
Boss MT-2 Metal Zone - Excellent condition in box. $45.
Boss GE-7 - Excellent condition, but missing 3 of the plastic covers for the sliders. Otherwise works well. $40
ISP Decimator ProRackG - Excellent condition and includes manual (impossible to find if you don't have it). $300
Peavey Ultra 120 Plus

Genz Benz G-Glex 2x12

Great transactions with: GuitarMan216, rockitsauce, lackingimpact, Ballfuzz, ToWillOneThing, airship71, litzilong, Exdeath, RUExp? (x2), Boris the Blade

Mesa Triple Recto head in orange suede.
2 channel - attached cord.
Asking $1200 or trade for ?
(I would be interested in a tube power amp, Egnater dual channel modules, Peavey Wolfgangs, Engl Powerball, etc. - What do you have to offer?

Jim Rodgers

R3FX

http://www.r3fx.com

email@example.com

Custom built pedals and mods. Ask me about Line 6 mods!

I dont really want to get rid of anything that i have, just testing the waters to see whats offered.
Lets see what what ya got.
2203KK $1300 shipped
bogner uberschall rev 2 metal face with el34's * SOLD*
Ultra Plus - *SOLD*
things i do like : les pauls , engl SE's ,Quickrod, maybe a diezel or something, Mark IV or V ?
" "Best toan in teh land" - champion

Good Buyers/Sellers :Mikenothing , SirKonks,Dimebag11 x2,Dropped_2_c,Boris the Blade,thefyn,MrSandman,Gabe15,GuidanceOfSin,shane1 59 X2,Mparsons,rabott13,warplangrey,iamthearm, SkyHighRocks,RobotBodiesBFF,Tu Be x2,IanDOL,Fridgit,Jim Ansell ,GutterMouth,LionHeaRT07 ,Zao X2,m3at,Bluesman001,Khoifish321,thinkpad20,vangkm, juice,phatgirl,Trembulant,knope , Knucklefux, pfapin,rareguitar,donsimon76, again with this, Jerry Dyer, eagertokill,rugbyguitargod

For Sale: Fender Super Reverb Reissue. GREAT sounding amp, one of the best clean and over driven amp tones I've ever heard in 20 years. Unfortunately, it is (as you can see) just collecting dust. It has been heavily gigged and it shows.
Some rust on the top metal, probably from sweaty bars or load ins/outs in the rain? Bought it brand new when they first came out. Dare I say it? I will... Original Owner Item! Comes with Vibrato/Reverb Pedal (see pics).
What the heck, I'll even throw in the green jewel I bought for it and used once... lol!
Will trade for an Axe Fx Standard or Vetta II Combo w/ FBV long board. Otherwise, $1000 shipped (CONUS ONLY), $900 picked up (or nearest offer).
I had a signature once...


text:
positions that are most comfortable and work best for you during labor and birth. (There may be a medical reason for you to be in a certain position.) Mother-friendly settings almost never put a woman flat on her back with her legs up in stirrups for the birth.
5. How do you make sure everything goes smoothly when my nurse, doctor, midwife or agency need to work with each other?
Ask, "Can my doctor or midwife come with me if I have to be moved to another place during labor? Can you help me find people or agencies in my community who can help me before and after the baby is born?"
Mother-friendly places and people will have a specific plan for keeping in touch with the other people who are caring for you. They will talk to others who give you birth care. They will help you find people or agencies in your community to help you. For example, they may put you in touch with someone who can help you with breastfeeding.
6. What things do you normally do to a woman in labor?
Experts say some methods of care during labor and birth are better and healthier for mothers and babies. Medical research shows us which. Mother-friendly settings only use methods that have been proven best. Sometimes birth centers, hospitals and home birth services use methods that are not proven to be best for the mother or the baby. For example, research has indicated that it's usually not helpful to break the bag of waters.
Here is a list of things we recommend you ask about. They do not help and may hurt healthy mothers and babies. They are not proven to be best for the mother or baby and are not mother-friendly.


text:
Largo [2'09]
Allegro [3'04]
Allegro [5'00]
Adagio [2'42]
Allegro [3'20]
Presto [3'44]
Adagio [2'12]
Allegro [3'17]
Vivace [2'48]
Allegro [1'00]
Cantabile [3'30]
Allegro [2'45]
Vivace [4'22]
Allegro molto [2'55]
Largo [5'05]
Allegro [2'54]
Andante [2'56]
Allegro [3'01]
Adagio [2'49]
Allegro [1'51]
Aria di minuetto [10'06]
Andante [4'13]
with Rachel Isserlis (violin)
[Alla breve] [1'50]
with Rachel Isserlis (violin)
Adagio [2'05]
with Rachel Isserlis (violin)
Cantabile [1'56]
with Rachel Isserlis (violin)
Allegro [1'32]
with Rachel Isserlis (violin)
Largo Andante [2'51]
with Rachel Isserlis (violin)
Vivace [4'25]
with Rachel Isserlis (violin)
Cantabile [2'22]
with Rachel Isserlis (violin)
[Alla breve] [1'57]
with Rachel Isserlis (violin)
Allegro molto [1'20]
with Rachel Isserlis (violin)
Largo Andante [2'04]
with Rachel Isserlis (violin)
[Alla breve] [1'44]
with Rachel Isserlis (violin)
Grave [2'27]
with Rachel Isserlis (violin)
Allegro [1'52]
with Rachel Isserlis (violin)
Cantabile [3'51]
with Rachel Isserlis (violin)
Vivace [4'16]
with Rachel Isserlis (violin)
Allegro [1'46]
with Rachel Isserlis (violin)
This set of ten sonatas was published in Amsterdam in 1744. Six are scored for violin and continuo while the remaining four feature an additional solo violin.
Pietro Antonio Locatelli (born in Bergamo, 1695, died in Amsterdam, 1764) settled in the Dutch capital in 1729, following a period of apprenticeship spent first in Italy (Bergamo and Rome, the city that witnessed the triumph of Corellis style) and then at some of the principal courts of Europe. For the remaining thirty-five years of his life he was never to move from the Dutch capital. His Opus 8, X Sonate, VI a violino solo e basso e IV a tre (1744), was printed at his own expense in Amsterdam, the home of the most flourishing music publishing businesses of the age.
A few years after his arrival in the city he began a period of intense publishing, issuing as many as seven volumes (Op 2 to Op 8) over a twelve-year period (1732 to 1744). But while he himself supervised and financed the printing of his chamber works, for the concertos he resorted to the leading contemporary specialists: Roger, Le Cène and Van der Hoeven. As regards his other works, the Op 1 was also printed in Amsterdam (by Roger), though this some years previously (in 1721, when the composer still resided in Italy); while publication of his last work, the Op 9 (of which not a trace has survived), was announced in 1762 by Covens. The Op 8 thus marks the end of a long and uninterrupted run of publications, to be followed by an even longer and not so easily explained silence lasting about eighteen years.
The Op 8 stands out from the rest of Locatellis published oeuvre and also from contemporary music production in general both in the timing of its appearance and in the presence of certain distinctive formal and stylistic features.
The most conspicuous peculiarities of the set are the number of pieces included (ten) and the mixing of genres (violin sonatas and trio sonatas), an arrangement that clashed with the widespread contemporary practice of publishing either six or twelve pieces of the same musical genre. The mixing of genres may possibly be explained by Locatellis desire to issue a series of works that had been left unpublished: the left-overs, as it were, of a larger and more homogeneous production. And in view of the short lapse of time in which the corpus of works from Op 2 to Op 8 was published, it is hardly surprising that some of the pieces included were written long before the actual date of publication.
What immediately prompted Locatelli to issue the Op 8 may have been the desire to collect a series of pieces specially tailored to the needs of a particular individual, dedicatee or group. It is a well-known fact that members of the aristocracy and rich bourgeoisie liked to consider themselves as integral parts of the cultural and particularly musical life of the great European cities. They achieved this not only by commissioning works of music (the dedications of which granted them an adequate return in lustre and esteem), but also, in many cases, by playing a more active role: engaging in amateur performances at the fashionable drawing-rooms. Locatellis Op 8 may well, therefore, be a collection of pieces adapted to the taste and skills of just such a public, rather than those of its actual dedicatee: a certain Abraham Croock, a wealthy Amsterdam gunpowder merchant about whom we have no evidence of direct involvement in musical activities (except for another dedication, that of XII Sinfonie a quatro stromenti (c1739) by Anton Wilhelm Solnitz, a Bohemian composer active in Holland). In short, Locatelli, an astute publisher, was doubtless well aware of the wide appeal and saleability of such a collection among the prosperous classes of Amsterdam.
The composite nature of the set is reflected not only in its overall plan but also in the style of the individual sonatas. The Sonate a violino solo, in particular, display contrasting features. On the one hand, we note the residues of both Corellian form (the organization into four movements, beginning with a slow one) and compositional style (the melodic shaping of the initial Cantabile movements). On the other, there is a tendency towards elements of greater modernity, such as the adoption of a three-movement plan and the prevalence of homophony. The use of homophonic textures, in particular, enables the top part to stand out against an accompanying bass, thus making the solo sonata an ideal genre for Locatelli (who, after all, was acclaimed throughout Europe as a brilliant virtuoso performer before he made his name a composer). The solo sonatas of the Op 8 also consolidate some of the innovative compositional procedures used in some of his previous works: in particular the blurring of the distinction between the sonata da camera and sonata da chiesa (one of the hallmarks of Corellian form). In its place there emerges a more neutral form of sonata da camera with a tendency to exclude both the fugato movements (of the preceding sonata da chiesa) and the dance movements borrowed from the suite (of the sonata da camera). Many of these innovations, however, had already been established in the Sonate a flauto traversiere e basso, Op 2 (1732), and the Sonate a violino solo e basso, Op 6 (1737).
Of the six Op 8 violin sonatas, four are in three movements and two in four. All begin with a slow introductory movement, followed by faster movements. The only exception is Sonata VI, which closes with an Aria di minuetto and eight variations and constitutes the high point of virtuosity in the whole collection. Though the piece betrays the typical traits of Locatellis most flamboyant style (leaps across strings, high positions, passages of rapid note values, staccato, etc), the virtuosity is on the whole less pervasive than in the Op 6.
The trio sonata genre was not one that greatly engaged Locatellis attention as a composer, despite the existence of a complete set dedicated to it: the Op 5 (Sei Sonate a tre, o due flauti traversieri, e basso per il cembalo, 1736). By the time the Op 8 was published the trio sonata no longer enjoyed the vogue of the previous decades when, on the strength of the Corellian model, it had crossed the Italian borders and met with such widespread popularity in the rest of Europe. Nonetheless it continued to be important in two respects: first, as a genre eminently suited to amateur and drawing-room performance (perhaps more so than the solo sonata, for it gave small groups of instrumentalists the opportunity to play in varying formations); secondly, it gradually came to be considered as a kind of exercise and testing ground for composers to show their mastery of composition.
The number of movements in the Op 8 trio sonatas ranges from as many as five (Sonatas VII and VIII) down to four (Sonata IX) and three (Sonata X). The first three sonatas have fugal movements, and though in his treatment of these textures Locatelli shows an evident desire to rid himself of strict compositional rules, in other respects the fugues remain faithful to earlier models (see, for example, the fermatas used to close off sections within the movements, a typically Corellian formula).
Innovation and conservatism alternate also in the part-writing: in some passages the first violin emerges strongly; in others the two violins stand out together against the bass; in yet others the three voices are interwoven in polyphonic textures. Compared with the Op 5 trio sonatas, these works make greater demands on the performer and reveal the composers desire to exploit more fully the instruments technical possibilities (we should remember, however, that the Op 5 set was written for two violins or two flutes, a condition that surely limits the possibilities of forging an idiomatic style based on the technical potential of a particular instrument). Sonata X merits a special mention. The exceptional choice of instrumentation the cello is promoted to second voice may perhaps be explained by the works destination: this was a piece written for a particular amateur or professional cellist. As it is, the cello engages in dialogue with the violin practically throughout and the part includes a number of passages that make strong demands on the performers skill.
In conclusion, though the Op 8 is in many respects a composite and inconsistent set, its very heterogeneity gives rise to much variety and vitality. Alongside one Locatelli, the heir to Corelli and the emulator of the imposing Corellian model, stands his counterpart: the virtuoso, the acute connoisseur of the violins rich technical potential, and the modern spokesman of a stylistic transition that, within a short space of time, was to mark the definite close of the Baroque era of music.
Paola Chiarelli © 1995


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