"I love that you've brought this to attention. An extensive database of uncommon but resistant and hardy plants/foods could be developed and organized by climate. Ease of growth and processing should also be taken in to account. I will try to…"
A crash course in changing the world.
The Second Bank of Evoke - Where Currency has no Currency
Okay friends and neighbors, we committed a grievous act over at the First Bank of Evoke and started (gasp) sharing jokes, poems, and such without exchanging EVs. To prevent such anarchy from undermining the capitalist principles of said bank, we are opening the Second Bank of Evoke.
Think of it as literary freecycling - so feel free to deposit or drop off your old poems, jokes, artwork, whatever for another agent to come across and take "home" with them. Frankly, you can't swing a cat around the quest description without hitting the phrase creative or does art or something similar (and no, I don't actually swing cats) so step up and leave something on the doorstep. Inspire your fellow agents or make us laugh.
And before anybody gets too in my face about this is off topic, this is the Second Bank of Evoke operating on the gift economy - so give.
Cheers.
Views: 57
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Comment by Mark Mulkerin on April 11, 2010 at 12:12am
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Wow, this was unexpectedly popular. Okay, I didn't think it needed saying since it has come up in many times in other areas, but please keep things positive and if you are sharing someone else's work, cite your source. Even better if you share a poem you wrote ...
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Comment by Ethan Walden on April 11, 2010 at 12:14am
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LoL
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Here is part of a longer unfinished piece which seems right for this endeavor that I started some years ago ...
Metaphysics of a Monday – Prelude
Darkness sings, or faintest light, here from the breaking.
One became two became three became four
force wide our eyes
gathering remnants of the ancient.
We are new, recent from the slime.
Yesterday, our footprints baked hard
in Africa’s fossilized mud,
last night, we picked our gods
called them by different names.
I scooped out your eyes,
you bit out my tongue
as holy words boomed in our ears.
Later, we flayed each other, fired the skins dry, and wrote –
called it scripture, epic, lyric, tabloid.
Echoes sing and I will bind my heart in faith to the dawn.
This night stinks of blood and urine and burning plastic –
I bellow to the light, join me, fill the world with scream,
bid it turn, the sun burns the insistent, persistent illusions.
Life photosynthesizes, grows, climbs out of darkness,
finds new places to live.
By noon, we will sprout about distant stars
or rot like seedless fruit, the earth digesting us.
Static sings reminds us of the larger journey
and you, my friend, foe, blood,
I will not engendered you,
sketch outlines of genitalia and other apparel,
banish the opposite from you.
I will not parcel you skin,
hold it up to a color wheel and name it.
And I will not tongue your god’s titles,
close down some ecstasies, prophecies, damnations,
allow one of us to be chosen.
For when we unwind our double helix
that stripe our barcodes and zap –
our labels may be different,
but we price the same.
So in this now, this false or real dawn,
let us play tomorrow,
imagine those who will eat our marrow
and with bitterness or praise,
call us father, mother, cursed.
So push me into morning’s break
and I’ll pull you along and what we witness,
we’ll write in each other’s flesh.
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Comment by PJE on April 11, 2010 at 9:22am
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I don't know if this'll work Mark, its my offering by way of a joke. We have a lot of playmobil at home
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