Photo-manipulation | Michael Vincent Manalo — NO MIDDLEMAN ART GALLERY Edge of Humanity Magazine

View PORTFOLIO Artist Statement & Bio . . The  NO MIDDLEMAN ART GALLERY is a  Edge of Humanity Magazine project. ABOUT The NO MIDDLEMAN ART GALLERY is designed to connect art seekers and collectors with artists DIRECTLY.  The gallery is not a mall, but instead a collection of remarkable works of art that bring together artists and potential buyers. Following Edge […]

Photo-manipulation | Michael Vincent Manalo — NO MIDDLEMAN ART GALLERY Edge of Humanity Magazine

Phoenixsnarl’s Revenge

Phoenixsnarl’s Revenge
Flash Fiction

The Krishan Wars were finally over after centuries of tribal kings and warriors calling for the blood of each other. At last, Phoenixsnarl was on his way home, his body weary from too many battles in another man’s name. Yet as he neared his village his heart and spirit began to lift.

Soon he would no longer be a warrior looking out for a fight, soon he would be tending his crops and cattle again. That was how things should be. Phoenixsnarl was not destined to be a warrior murdering souls at the behest of some king. He had served under four of them as far as he knew. No king lasted long as there was always someone waiting to swing a blade and take up the position of warmonger in chief.

Phoenixsnarl held no grand illusions of nobility, He didn’t see the point. What could be worse than life, a short life, spent looking over your shoulder to see where the blades were coming from next and always trying to be one step ahead or be dead.

Phoenixsnarl looked up as he reached his homestead, just in time to see the Manician Stalkers fleeing his home. His heart sunk into a rage, he knew what he would find. In the kitchen lay the decapitated body of his young son, just a babe in arms when he had left for war. In the bedroom, the body of his wife, scared by torture and rape before they murdered her.

That night Phoenixsnarl set his home ablaze in a funeral pyre. Inside he stood, raising his voice, the voice of a warrior “I summon you, the beasts of war”. There as he died he watched the ghostly monsters return dragging the screaming remains of the Stalkers to that place where demons dwell and no soul has ever returned.

©JezzieGFarmer2022

The Phoenix and the Turtle by William Shakespeare

The Phoenix and the Turtle
1601

Let the bird of loudest lay,
On the sole Arabian tree,
Herald sad and trumpet be,
To whose sound chaste wings obey.

But thou, shrieking harbinger,
Foul pre-currer of the fiend,
Augur of the fever’s end,
To this troop come thou not near.

From this session interdict
Every fowl of tyrant wing,
Save the eagle, feather’d king:
Keep the obsequy so strict.

Let the priest in surplice white,
That defunctive music can,
Be the death-defying swan,
Lest the requiem lack his right.

And thou, treble-dated crow,
That thy sable gender mak’st
With the breath thou giv’st and tak’st,
‘Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.

Here the anthem doth commence:
Love and constancy is dead;
Phoenix and the turtle fled
In a mutual flame from hence.

So they lov’d, as love in twain
Had the essence but in one;
Two distincts, division none:
Number there in love was slain.

Hearts remote, yet not asunder;
Distance, and no space was seen
‘Twixt the turtle and his queen;
But in them it were a wonder.

So between them love did shine,
That the turtle saw his right
Flaming in the phoenix’ sight:
Either was the other’s mine.

Property was thus appall’d,
That the self was not the same;
Single nature’s double name
Neither two nor one was call’d.

Reason, in itself confounded,
Saw division grow together;
To themselves yet either-neither,
Simple were so well compounded.

That it cried how true a twain
Seemeth this concordant one!
Love hath reason, reason none
If what parts can so remain.

Whereupon it made this threne
To the phoenix and the dove,
Co-supreme and stars of love;
As chorus to their tragic scene.

THRENOS.

Beauty, truth, and rarity.
Grace in all simplicity,
Here enclos’d in cinders lie.

Death is now the phoenix’ nest;
And the turtle’s loyal breast
To eternity doth rest,

Leaving no posterity:–
‘Twas not their infirmity,
It was married chastity.

Truth may seem, but cannot be:
Beauty brag, but ’tis not she;
Truth and beauty buried be.

To this urn let those repair
That are either true or fair;
For these dead birds sigh a prayer

William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare
Born: April 1564, Stratford-upon-Avon, England
Nationality: English
Died: 23 April 1616, Stratford-upon-Avon, England

Shakespeare was a poet, playwright, and actor. He is regarded as one of the greatest writers in the English language. Referred to as ‘the Bard’ his works include 39 plays, 154 sonnets, narrative poems, and other verses. His plays have been translated into all major languages.

Dance on a Volcano by Genesis

Dance on a Volcano
Album: A Trick of the Tail
Date: 1976
Genre: Alternative/Indie
Artist: Genesis

Genesis

Formed at Charterhouse School in Surrey, UK, in 1967 Genesis’ most successful line-up includes Tony Banks (keyboards), Mike Rutherford (bassist/guitarist), and Phil Collins (drummer/singer). In the 1970s when the line-up included Peter Gabriel (singer) Genesis was among the pioneering groups of progressive rock.

Forgiving Self

Forgiving Self
Form: Epistle
Theme: The Self-Healing Journey

To myself I write
before the dark thoughts claim my mind –
again –
and they will
they always do
but each time I am more ready
a little bit more aware
and a little bit more forgiving
towards myself
if not towards others
for I am learning forgiveness starts with self
and not someone else
so I forgive myself
for those times I let my self-esteem fall
for those times I forget I am worthy of love
even the love from myself
I forgive myself
for choosing the situations that make me feel less
because I believe I am less
someone else doesn’t do that to me unless I let them
and for letting them
I forgive myself
but I will never forgive them
no more will I pretend they didn’t mean it
as I know perfectly well that they did
and I forgive me for knowing it
it is in my own forgiveness I release me
to find my worth and identity
free myself to love me for who I am
and that to forgive them lessens me
which reminds me
no one is worthy of that

©JezzieGFarmer2022

Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – A Little Foresight

Inspired by and written for Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – thank you Sue and GC

I practice divination, and while I will never say it gives you the complete picture of the future or one’s destiny, it can provide a useful peek into what is possibly to come, and if needs be act on things to change the direction as oft happens. Well, here goes…

A Little Foresight
Form: Free verse

Cards, runes, and crystal ball
open my eyes
to see potential coming into view
black silk and sparks of light
bring the universe into my sight
with arcane words of ritual
magic spoken across the blue
before simple questions asked in truth
seek the answers within starlight
senses soaring into the sky
into destiny where my soul can fly
but what of the shadows haunting the light
where the end of days isn’t quite right
open my eyes
to all that is wrong
so I can be free from that negative grip
releasing my heart’s darkness to another place
hold me in the universal embrace
to walk my path of sacred bliss
Father Sun and Mother Moon
unto my journey’s end
protect me in love and light

©JezzieGFarmer2022

Song Lyric Sunday – Blue

Inspired by and written for Song Lyric Sunday – thank you Jim

I am a huge fan of nonsense and fantasy. Combining the two it really doesn’t get more novelty than that. It also means I don’t have to go back to the so-called novelty songs from my teens, which were quite frankly a crock of shyte.

Released in 1998 by the Italian electronic dance group Eifel 65 “Blue (Da Ba Dee)” reached number 1 in at least 18 countries. Written by lead singer Jeffrey Jey and keyboardist Maurizio Lobina the inspiration for the lyrics was how a person chooses to live their own lifestyle. So for all those like me who don’t conform to what others expect and live life our own way,,,

Yo, listen up here’s a story
About a little guy
That lives in a blue world
And all day and all night
And everything he sees is just blue
Like him inside and outside

Blue his house
With a blue little window
And a blue corvette
And everything is blue for him
And himself and everybody around
Cause he ain’t got nobody to listen to

I’m blue
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
I’m blue
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di

I have a blue house
With a blue window
Blue is the colour of all that I wear
Blue are the streets
And all the trees are too
I have a girlfriend and she is so blue

Blue are the people here
That walk around
Blue like my corvette its in and outside
Blue are the words I say
And what I think
Blue are the feelings
That live inside me

I’m blue
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
I’m blue
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di

I have a blue house
With a blue window
Blue is the colour of all that I wear
Blue are the streets
And all the trees are too
I have a girlfriend and she is so blue

Blue are the people here
That walk around
Blue like my corvette, its in and outside
Blue are the words I say
And what I think
Blue are the feelings
That live inside me

I’m blue
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
I’m blue
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee da ba di

Sonnet September: Fra banc to banc, fra wod to wod I rin by Mark Alexander Boyd

Mark Alexander Boyd

Scots Dialect

Fra banc to banc, fra wod to wod I rin
Owrhailit with my feble fantasie,
Lye til a leif that fallis from a trie
Or til a reid owrblawin with the win’.
Twa gods gyds me: the arie of them is blin’,
Ye, and a bairn brocht up in yanitie;
The nixt a wyf ingenrit of the se,
And lichter nor a dauphin with her fin.
Unhappie is the man for evirmaire
That teils the sand and saw in the air,
Bot twyse unhappier is he, I lairn,
That feidis in his heirt a mad desire,
And follows on a woman throu the fyre,
Led by a blind and teichit by a bairn