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2023-11: Warosu is now out of extended maintenance.

/lit/ - Literature

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1730304 No.1730304 [Reply] [Original]

hey bb it's tatleoat i'm banned for some reason

>> No.1730311

i don't think he's up right now

>> No.1730313

hey fab tell whoever is in the room to ban bb for a second then if he's in there, otherwise tell everyone to clean their banlist

>> No.1730317

apparently it's clear

good luck!

>> No.1730318

What the fuck is this thread doing here? This isn't /b/, children. Converted into poems-about-birds discussion thread:

The Windhover

I caught this morning morning’s minion, king-
dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing, 5
As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird,—the achieve of; the mastery of the thing!

Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion 10
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!

No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.

>> No.1730320

>>1730318
wow guy i was just helping a friend because that's what friends do

jeezoose

>> No.1730321

>>1730318
there's seriously cliques on /lit/. it's the stupidest bullshit but a bunch of the tripfags post in their all important fucking chatrooms god ban them all

>> No.1730322

it's not working man!

>> No.1730326

A Bird

A bird came down the walk,
He did not know I saw;
He bit an angleworm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.
And then he drank a dew
From a convenient grass,
And then hopped sidewise to the wall
To let a beetle pass.

>> No.1730328

>>1730321
>>1730321
i agree it's full of cyber bullies but lots of them are nice please don't be so cranky

>> No.1730330

>>1730317
sorry fab it's not working tell them to try again

>> No.1730331

Ode to a Nightingale, Parts 1-4

1.

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,—
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

2.

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

3.

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

4.

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

>> No.1730332

>>1730311

fab are you irl fab?

i've been awol a few days i'm just curious since if not yall a fairly apt parody

>> No.1730333

>>1730332
irl fab?

are you asking me if i'm a certain person or are you asking me about myself?

>> No.1730337

>>1730333

i'm asking if you're you essentially since last i was here your trip name was just "fabulous"

we talked about yoko ono?

>> No.1730338

>>1730331
Parts 5-8

5.

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves;
And mid-May's eldest child,
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

6.

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—
To thy high requiem become a sod.

7.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft-times hath
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

8.

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toil me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?

>> No.1730339

>>1730328
You're talking about what. You're talking about... Bitching about that post you shot, some sonofabitch who don't wanna argue with you, some broad you're trying to screw, so forth. Let's talk about something important. They all here? Well, I'm going anyway. Let's talk about something important. PUT. THAT COFFEE. DOWN. That coffee's for anons only. You think I'm fucking with you? I am not fucking with you. I'm here on a mission of mercy. Your name's Fabulous? You call yourself a poster, you son of a bitch? You don't have to stick around here? You certainly don't, because the good news is - you're banned. The bad news is - you, all of you, you've got just one week to regain your trips, starting from tonight. Starting with tonight's posts. Oh? Have I got your attention now? Good. Cause we're adding a little something to this week's sales contest. First prize is a Cadillac El Dorado. You wanna see second prize? Second prize is a set of steak knives. Third prize? Third prize is you're banned.

>> No.1730342

>>1730337
that's me

:)

>>1730330
they're working on it i guess... don't know for sure because zed is kind of silly

>> No.1730345

Evening Hawk

From plane of light to plane, wings dipping through
Geometries and orchids that the sunset builds,
Out of the peak's black angularity of shadow, riding
The last tumultuous avalanche of
Light above pines and the guttural gorge,
The hawk comes.
His wing
Scythes down another day, his motion
Is that of the honed steel-edge, we hear
The crashless fall of stalks of Time.

The head of each stalk is heavy with the gold of our error.

Look! Look! he is climbing the last light
Who knows neither Time nor error, and under
Whose eye, unforgiving, the world, unforgiven, swings
Into shadow.

Long now,
The last thrush is still, the last bat
Now cruises in his sharp hieroglyphics. His wisdom
Is ancient, too, and immense. The star
Is steady, like Plato, over the mountain.

If there were no wind we might, we think, hear
The earth grind on its axis, or history
Drip in darkness like a leaking pipe in the cellar.

>> No.1730346

Mortal Limit
by Robert Penn Warren

I saw the hawk ride updraft in the sunset over Wyoming.
It rose from coniferous darkness, past gray jags
Of mercilessness, past whiteness, into the gloaming
Of dream-spectral light above the lazy purity of snow-snags.

There--west--were the Tetons. Snow-peaks would soon be
In dark profile to break constellations. Beyond what height
Hangs now the black speck? Beyond what range will gold eyes see
New ranges rise to mark a last scrawl of light?

Or, having tasted that atmosphere's thinness, does it
Hang motionless in dying vision before
It knows it will accept the mortal limit,
And swing into the great circular downwardness that will restore

The breath of earth? Of rock? Of rot? Of other such
Items, and the darkness of whatever dream we clutch?

>> No.1730349

>>1730330
banlist is clear, mostly.

>> No.1730350

>>1730346
Finally, another like-minded poster.
Seems to me like he's talking about mankind's attempt to conquer nature and become gods of our own destiny; however, our mortal limits prevent us from reaching our full potential.

>> No.1730353

>>1730350
romanticized trash

and stop being such a prove-all

>> No.1730357

>>1730353
Stop shitting up the board with your super-special club bullshit. This sort of discussion doesn't belong here.

>> No.1730358

>>1730349
i went under the name "decoy01" "decoy02" etc earlier

>> No.1730366

>>1730353
I just want to be clear on this: I think everyone in the litclub clique is a really bad, boring poster, and I think the existence of cliques is not a good thing. I really wish this shit would just get detonated. This has nothing to do with my agreement with any of your positions, and it has nothing to do with tripfags as such. You and your crew are not good posters.

Just wanted to be clear :)

>> No.1730372

>>1730366
groups aren't a good thing? this defies natural law

>> No.1730377

>>1730372
sorry bro :) that's a good point. groups and cliques aren't a bad thing in themselves. but they are not good for the board, and the existence of a group of posters who aren't very good, who form a clique, and who bring stuff from outside and make it a thing on the board is a bad thing. go with god, bro.

>> No.1730386

>implying litclub isn't /lit/ related
>implying /lit/'s tripfriends aren't /lit/ related

that's like saying citizens of the US have no relation to the US

>> No.1730391

>>1730386
>implying that the original discussion was in any way /lit/-related
>implying that the presence of a tripfag makes a thread /lit/-related

Fuck you, Quentin.

>> No.1730393

>>1730386
hey bro :) thanks for making a totally good point. but i'm not saying that cliques are bad because they're not /lit/ related (obviously a lot of /lit/ discussion isn't precisely /lit/ related and that's okay as long as it's good posting). this clique is bad because it is full of bad posters and trolls and boring people, and because the discussions it brings about are boring and about mundane chatroom drama and personal lives and stuff in a way that's boring. thanks again, bro, feel free to ask any more questions.

>> No.1730397
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1730397

>>1730393
>implying bad posting

>> No.1730404

>>1730397
hey again bro :) thanks for responding to me. that totally is what i implied, good job pointing that out. most of the people who come from the lit chat room are totally bad posters or trolls (like you, bro. no hating). your totally rad image doesnt make you a good poster although it is pretty funny! thanks again for responding bro.

>> No.1730405

idk i try not to think about the sociopolitical perspective of hanging out with people i like, they're good to me so why would i need to think about it more than i need to

>> No.1730409

>>1730397
>implying that this thread isn't filled with worthless tripfags and useful anons
MORE BIRDS, PEOPLE!

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

The free bird leaps
on the back of the win
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hillfor the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

>> No.1730418
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1730418

>>1730366
> I think everyone in the litclub clique is a really bad, boring poster[...]