maxrjovbi, to scifi
@maxrjovbi@mastodon.social avatar

Lyanna

During the hourly wake of the city's mourners,
I escaped
to where none of us dared venture,
with the gynandromorphophile's long shadow
over my shoulder,
I escaped
to where no other nectar but yours—the XY-code's,
was harvested by the drones…




@scifi
@poetry
@writing

https://write.as/maxrjovbi/lyanna

maxrjovbi, to scifi
@maxrjovbi@mastodon.social avatar

Freedom

We always found ourselves in Magdalena, a quaint, abandoned town nestled far in the western reaches, Lya and I, as we ventured into the Spree. I didn’t know why. And I had never really thought about it. Until now…




@scifi @poetry @writing

https://write.as/spree#freedom

18+ maxrjovbi, to scifi
@maxrjovbi@mastodon.social avatar

Milky-White Rose

In the neon-lit sprawl of tomorrow, I'll hoist
the milky-white rose
of synthetic essence—its fragrant code will weave
through the data stream, perfuming
the holonight's
Pro-Rata enthymeme
with sweet binary echoes of virtual "Qui Vive."

For Lyanna



@scifi
@poetry

Lyanna
Lyanna
Lyanna

maxrjovbi, to scifi
@maxrjovbi@mastodon.social avatar

Spree by Max R. J. Ovbi.

Step into the dystopian future of Spree, a genre-blending novella that throws all the storytelling rules out the window.

@FediFollows



@scifi
@poetry
@writing

https://write.as/maxrjovbi/spree

maxrjovbi, to scifi
@maxrjovbi@mastodon.social avatar

For God's Sake

In the decipherment of man's enigma,
my moves defy the algorithms,
embracing his ethereal origin,
a being misplaced
in this three-dimensional prison.

Read more…




@scifi
@poetry
@writing

https://write.as/maxrjovbi/for-gods-sake

18+ maxrjovbi, to scifi
@maxrjovbi@mastodon.social avatar

Milky-White Rose

In the neon-lit sprawl of tomorrow, I'll hoist
the milky-white rose
of synthetic essence—its fragrant code will weave
through the data stream, perfuming
the holonight's
Pro-Rata enthymeme
with sweet binary echoes of virtual "Qui Vive."

VERNISSAGE
Holographs by Max R. J. Ovbi

Galería Cubana, New Moscow, UN City.
Sunday 30 December, 2323.
4pm—9pm

Curator: Lyanna Ovbi



@scifi
@poetry
@writing

https://write.as/maxrjovbi/milky-white-rose

maxrjovbi, to scifi
@maxrjovbi@mastodon.social avatar

Milky-White Rose

In the neon-lit sprawl of tomorrow, I'll hoist
the milky-white rose
of synthetic essence—its fragrant code will weave
through the data stream, perfuming
the holonight's
Pro-Rata enthymeme
with sweet binary echoes of virtual "Qui Vive."

VERNISSAGE
Holographs by Max R. J. Ovbi

Galería Cubana, New Moscow, UN City.
Sunday 30 December, 2323.
4pm—9pm

Curator: Lyanna Ovbi




@scifi @poetry

https://write.as/maxrjovbi/milky-white-rose @write_as

maxrjovbi, to scifi
@maxrjovbi@mastodon.social avatar
maxrjovbi, to scifi
@maxrjovbi@mastodon.social avatar
Tinido, to bookstodon German
@Tinido@chaos.social avatar

, 150 years ago, Lola Ridge was born in Dublin. She was to become a modernist , a leading figure in the movement in , a very prominent and campaigner für women's rights, the rights of immigrants and the poor. Lola Ridge has had a small renaissance since her biography came out 2016, but she could be read more widely.

@bookstodon

https://www.bostonreview.net/articles/terese-svoboda-lola-ridge/

maxrjovbi, to poetry
@maxrjovbi@mastodon.social avatar

Kinship

The essence of a fictive, chosen, or voluntary kinship is rooted in a profound sense of connection. This connection isn't always immediately recognized or mutual, but it's never entirely unfamiliar or one-sided...


@poetry

https://write.as/maxrjovbi/kinship via @write_as

maxrjovbi, to poetry
@maxrjovbi@mastodon.social avatar

GAMP and Transgender Pride

"I'm a GAMP, and it's not a writer's cramp that makes me wanna be amp about it—I'm a straight champ who don't need a Virgin Mary bigot or a lick-spigot vamp to question my mastodon feed, or my literary, noumenon handstamp."—Max R. J. Ovbi

@poetry

Transgender Pride Flag

haikushack, to poetry
@haikushack@thecanadian.social avatar
willendeavor,
@willendeavor@mindly.social avatar

@haikushack @poetry

Dusk

Finally some rest
Rustling from daylight to dusk
Teeth gritty with sand

ash, to bookstodon
@ash@zirk.us avatar

James Tate
(1943–2015)

@bookstodon @poetry @poet


https://books.google.co.il/books?id=aLzYEAAAQBAJ

mation on it as yet.” I noticed that he was about to cry. “Well, thanks,” I said. My stomach was sinking. I was certain to be late to work. I didn’t know what to do. Part of me wanted to drive on, to see what was out there, and part of me wanted to turn back, though I wasn’t certain of what I would find there. So I drove on for miles and miles, the sand dunes shifting and stirring, and the occasional hawk or buzzard circling overhead. Then the road disappeared, and I was forced to stop, and looked behind me, but that road, too, was gone, blown over by sand in a few seconds. I got out of the car, glad that I had some water with me. I looked around, and it was all the same. Nothing made any sense. I tried to call Harvey at the office on my cell phone. I couldn’t believe when he answered. “Harvey, it’s Carl. 'm out here in this new place. It’s all sand, and there are no roads,” I said. “We’ll come get you,” he said. “But I don’t know where I am, I mean, I don’t even know if it exists,” I said. “Don’t be ridiculous, Carl, of course it exists. Just look around and give me something to go by,” he said. “There’s nothing here. Oh, there was a tunnel some miles back, and a policeman leaning up against his motorcycle. That’s the last thing I saw,” I said.
“Was it the old Larchmont tunnel?” he said. “I don’t know, it could have been. I was lost already,” I said. “Okay, I'm going to come get you. Just stay put,” he said. I waited and waited. And then I just started walking. I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I was restless and hoped I might find a way out. I had lost sight of my car and had no idea where I was. The sun was blinding me and I couldn’t think straight. I barely knew who I was. And, then, as if by miracle, I heard Harvey’s voice call my name. I looked around and couldn’t see him. “Carl, Carl, I'm here,” he said. And I still couldn’t see him. “We’ve fallen off. We're in the fallen off zone,” he said. “What? What does that mean?” I said. “We’ve separated. It may be temporary. It’s too soon to tell,” he said. “But where are we. We must be in some relation to something,” I said. “I think we’re parallel,” he said. “Parallel to what?” I said. “Parallel to everything that matters,” he said. “Then that’s good,” I said. I still couldn’t see him, and night was coming on. It was a parallel night, much like the other, and that was some comfort, cold comfort, as they like to say.

ferngirl, to writingcommunity
@ferngirl@det.social avatar

So I was a guest on a the other day... The episode is up and can be found here: https://rachelthompson.co/podcast/81/

In it, I read my poem "Credits: Dead Girl #3" and we talk about writing and publishing. Also mental health.
TBH I'm a little scared of listening to it, because I really don't like the sound of my own voice.
@writingcommunity

court, to histodons
@court@dreamers-guild.net avatar

in - in 1590, Maria de Zayas y Sotomayor was baptized in Madrid - not much is known of her early life, but she grew up to be a . Maria wrote what came to be known as the Spanish Decameron, the Novelas amorosas y ejemplares.
She was a and having written Friendship Betrayed, a comedy which focused on female friendships. She advocated for women's independence (and saw convents as places of women's freedom from men).
@histodons

MikeDunnAuthor, to bookstadon
@MikeDunnAuthor@kolektiva.social avatar

Today in Labor History September 9, 1918: Scottish & Anzac troops at the Etaples army base launched a successful five-day mutiny against harsh treatment and bad conditions by attacking the military police and carrying out daily demonstrations. Siegfried Sassoon described the terrible conditions in his poem "Base Details." English writer Vera Brittain described the atmosphere in her book “Testament of Youth.” William Allison and John Fairley wrote about it in their 1978 book, “The Monocled Mutineer.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kxPinH6yZ3c

@bookstadon

SophieMcKeand, to bookstadon
@SophieMcKeand@kolektiva.social avatar

Less than a week to go until I arrive in Gothenburg for the last leg of this Swedish book tour. I’m at the Gothenburg Fringe Festivan on 7/8/9th Sept. more details here: https://www.gbgfringe.com/events/the-mthr-trilogy/ come see me! Or tell your Gothenburg-based friends to come see me! Or give me a friendly boost. MWAH 💋 @bookstadon

politicscurator, to histodons
@politicscurator@zirk.us avatar

Is this signature written by hand directly onto the book, or is it a printed version of a handwritten signature? I want it to be the former, but my colleague thinks it's the latter.

It's of Rabindranath Tagore, Bengali poet and winner of the Nobel Prize for literature

@histodons

MikeDunnAuthor, to bookstadon
@MikeDunnAuthor@kolektiva.social avatar

Today in Labor History August 16, 1819: Police attacked unemployed workers demonstrating in St. Peter's Field, Manchester, England. When the cavalry charged, at least 18 people died and over 600 were injured. The event became know as the Peterloo Massacre, named for the Battle of Waterloo, where many of the massacre victims had fought just four years earlier. Following the Napoleonic Wars there was an acute economic slump, terrible unemployment and crop failures, all worsened by the Corn Laws, which kept bread prices high. Only 11% of adult males had the vote. Radical reformers tried to mobilize the masses to force the government to back down. The movement was particularly strong in the north-west, where the Manchester Patriotic Union organized the mass rally for Peter’s Field. As soon as the meeting began, local magistrates tried to arrest working class radical, Henry Hunt, and several others. Hunt inspired the Chartist movement, which came shortly after Peterloo.

John Lees, who later died from wounds he received at the massacre, had been present at the Battle of Waterloo. Before his death, he said that he had never been in such danger as at Peterloo: "At Waterloo there was man to man but there it was downright murder." In the wake of the massacre, the government passed the Six Acts, to suppress any further attempts at radical reform. The event also led indirectly to the founding of the Manchester Guardian newspaper.

Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote about the massacre in his poem, “The Masque of Anarchy.” The authorities censored it until 1832, ten years after his death. Mike Leigh’s 2018 film Peterloo is an excellent portrayal of the massacre, and the events leading up to it. Many writers have written novels about Peterloo, including the relatively recent “Song of Peterloo,” by Carolyn O'Brien, and “All the People,” Jeff Kaye. However, perhaps the most important is Isabella Banks's 1876 novel, “The Manchester Man,” since she was there when it happened and included testimonies from people who were involved.

@bookstadon

MikeDunnAuthor, to bookstadon
@MikeDunnAuthor@kolektiva.social avatar

Today in Labor History August 12, 1952: The Soviet authorities murdered 13 prominent Jewish intellectuals and writers in the Night of the Murdered Poets. All were members of the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee, which fought for the USSR against Nazi Germany. They were falsely accused of espionage and treason, and then imprisoned, tortured, and isolated for three years before being formally charged.

@bookstadon

court, to histodons
@court@dreamers-guild.net avatar

in - in 1638, Sibylle Schwartz died at the age of 17 after a sudden illness. Sibylle was the daughter of the mayor of Greifswald (in northern or Pomerania) and she wrote from the age of 7. She wrote many poems influenced by her experiences living in the Thirty Years' War, when her town was occupied. Sibylle's work was published to much acclaim after her early death.
@histodons
Her collected poems:
https://archive.org/details/bub_gb_Lms_AAAAcAAJ

lacouvee, to poets
@lacouvee@mastodon.online avatar

I was fortunate, early in my online broadcasting life as a poet and writer, to learn that my tweets and posts and tiny ramblings, were considered as "published" by most journals. It's one of the reasons I only share published (by journals) work here. Thought this tip might help other poets and writers. @poets @writers

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