[identity profile] glasspyramids.livejournal.com
Hello, insomnia. How nice to see you again.

We know how Adrian saw humanity, when he decided on his plan of action. What other moments, captured in memory, unique and savored and unmentioned, made the sacrifice worthwhile?


Do you see? )
[identity profile] flyingrat42.livejournal.com
In Watchmen, the city of New York is just as much of a character as any of its human inhabitants.  This poem reminds me of that.
Sometimes when my eyes are red/I go up on top of the RCA Building/and gaze at my world, Manhattan. )
[identity profile] flyingrat42.livejournal.com
So here's another Adrian Veidt poem (Watchmen). I think this works equally well whether you're thinking of the version of Veidt from the graphic novel (Utopia Justifies the Means) or the movie (Necessarily Evil).

There was much, though, to be done/And only himself to count upon. )
[identity profile] flyingrat42.livejournal.com
Watchmen is still on the brain...What can I say? You know a work is great when it entwines itself into your thoughts in all manner of ways.

Inspired by the great poem posted by [livejournal.com profile] whiskerslily.
Yesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night. )
[identity profile] flyingrat42.livejournal.com
Yeah, I know, we need some other fandoms in here.

ETA: This poem deserves more of an explanation, so I'm adding one.  It's a perfect example of Robinson's elegant, spare, style...but delivers quite a punch to the gut at the end.  I recently rediscovered it, and there's only one Watchmen character that comes to mind...





Richard Cory
Edward Arlington Robinson

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean-favoured and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good Morning!" and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich, yes, richer than a king,
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine -- we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked and waited for the light,
And went without the meat and cursed the bread,
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet in his head.

[identity profile] flyingrat42.livejournal.com
Adrian at Karnak, standing alone at the end.  I love the ambivalence of this.




The Light Wraps You
Pablo Neruda

The light wraps you in its mortal flame.
Abstracted pale mourner, standing that way
against the old propellers of the twilight
that revolves around you.

Speechless, my friend,
alone in the loneliness of this hour of the dead
and filled with the lives of fire,
pure heir of the ruined day.

A bough of fruit falls from the sun on your dark garment.
The great roots of night
grow suddenly from your soul,
and the things that hide in you come out again
so that a blue and palled people
your newly born, takes nourishment.

Oh magnificent and fecund and magnetic slave
of the circle that moves in turn through black and gold:
rise, lead and possess a creation
so rich in life that its flowers perish
and it is full of sadness.


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