Romantique Innocence By Nailah D'arcy

No title

2017-01-17T22:45:00.000-05:00

Delicacy once a notable finery
Oh! How things have changed
From opulence to decadent debauchery

The once that lived
Forever, shamed by their genealogy and silenced individuals whom have concept of reality

I simply explained deplorably behavior to the lost & found ancestry.

Life is funny isn't it?
How it all connects to one commodity.
By Nailah D'arcy

The Love of The Written Word

2017-01-17T22:20:00.003-05:00

My Loves,

I have not been keeping my word. And, for that, I apologize. Life has been emotionally vexing. I'll be lying if I said everything that has been going on hasn't affected me. My outlook on life. Just being dammit. Eh, I use curse words now. Look how dire things got for my psyche. Everything has erased those colored lenses glasses I was wearing.

I want to start a new blog, but then I feel the need not to. Who really wants to hear my poetry and my vibrant writing style. Living now is raw, and radicalized; when you present things that are pretty and nice to look at, they're never to finalized, or respected.

Eh, I hate even speaking to people now of days. That's a job, in itself. I just want to be left alone in my own world of perfection.

However Loves, I will be writing an article on something interesting, for all my Trekkie fans & Forsyte fans. However, I wanted to post a new poem that I have written. Enjoy :)

New Beginnings

2016-09-23T12:49:00.000-04:00

Hello Loves,

I've been doing some serious reflecting over the years. And, now I'm ready to contribute to blogging again. Yes, I'm back with a vengeance. However, I'm going to leave blogger and start anew. I'm going to start a new blog at WordPress. Hopefully, I go live around November. I'm delegating new ideas for articles and listen to some very interesting individuals.

I can't wait.

I'm also looking for contributing bloggers. If you're intrested, please email me @Justanotherromantique@gmail.com

Amour Toujours
Miss D'arcy

Just Pondering....

2016-09-01T23:33:00.009-04:00

Lately, life is bringing us to question many things. Things that we dare no speak of, or know of. It silently threatens our way of thinking, but we continue on with our pleasantries.

I sit here late at night thinking about unconditional love. And, not love that's just a filter through love interest; although, relationships are a poignant part of the human experience. I didn't want to get scientific; I just wanted to speak on its non-exists in our childhood, and adulthood.

As people, we are not taught to love...Please don't think of this as a plea to our society. We are taught duty, honor, family, and survival ( well some of us.) That includes money, race, sex, ideology, but we are not taught to care.

Think about that. I bet you can't wait to tell me a story about your parents sitting you down, and stating "You have to be a kind person. You have to be a loving person. You have to be understanding person " if you heard something similar to this; Then you'll also have to admit, there were always a tinge of hypocrisy floating around.

Since we weren't brought up to feel, it becomes more of a display as we age. It becomes insecurity, pessimism, and regret.

Emotions are dangerous in the hands of non-feelers.

We're taught to hide our sadness, our fears, everything that adds to our resume. That resume we do not intend to show to our spouses, our children, our family, and our friends, We'll rather live in denial. And, reverse love into hate, reverse kindness into rudeness, reverse loyalty into disloyalty.

Is it because predecessors weren't taught either.

So who's to blame?

One thing I've learned. As you get older, you'll have more questions, than the answers you'll receive.

Amour Toujours

Nailah D'arcy

Acacia

2015-09-11T17:54:00.001-04:00

Acacia

There was a girl. A girl you may have seen, chatted with, or even screamed at in frustration. She was an ordinary girl. She was frail and fragile, two in the same, yet in her case polar opposites. Annoyance was a noun she carried age with dignity and grace. And when she slept her dreams were blissful; creative and whimsical as her life.

She trailed when she walked. Her footsteps never left her; molding the grass that traced the sole of her shoes like snow. It never disappeared or frightened her. Her imprint stayed in a sacred frame. One that she continued to play around, one she picked flowers from, one she laid upon while looking at the stars, one she walked atop many times.

Her, and grandmother infested themselves into a simple world.

They lived as decent people, well as decent as decent can get. Everything was minuscule to them, except and their cherished Sunday night dinners. Those Sunday's meant a lot to her. The anticipation of smothering smells, that travels not only to your olfactory, but through your body, and tickles not only your nose but your bones, and fixate on your brain constantly. This may seem mundane to us, but special within this household.

In a quaint white and pink cottage, there they lived. A secluded area, with peculiar large size tree; the tree was so big, that you’d never have known there was a house behind it. Wind blowing a swing on the right side, and a tire hanging on the left side. The decorated porch with wind chimes evades the eardrum, with sounds of crystals pinching together. Tacky lawn chairs, with an abundance of gnomes encircling the front porch. Paint on the house formed into chips, with a touch of hands it crumbles. The house was a piece of junk, but there was something peculiar about this house. The wind blew with precession. The sunrise, moonset, and sunset, set right on top of their home. The day and night end with crepuscular rays made into a halo.

Everything flourished in this home, but as we all know, everything that flourish must die.

Whenever she closed her eyes she sees fire, and in that quick instance she forgotten the thought.

She stood there waiting for her grandmother. She didn’t remember they were traveling, or for that by train. It seemed ethereal, surreal, like a secluded dream, yet others participated. She felt exposed and vulnerable. Naively she did make an attempt to make sense of it, just agreeing without knowing.

Our innocent child just stood there waiting. Eventually, her thoughts went dark. Was she alone? Did her grandmother desert her? No, No, never. In a panic she encircles the pavement looking for any inkling of her, anything to remind her, of her.

With a little tap on her shoulder, she turns and sees her grandmother in a state of confusion. She held in her hands tickets and there other a suitcase. “Where are we going?’ With wide eyes she scrambles to release the suitcase that was eerily lightweight. She stutters “I don’t know.” She scuffles to find their tickets “Lovell, Wyoming?”

“Why are we going there? Where are we now?” “Grandma ….”

“I don’t know” was all she could muster to say. Unlike her grandchild, she was not so blind. Her eyes were open, and fearful.

The announcer walks with a bell and states “The Trains to Lovell will be departing in three minutes. The Trains to Lovell will be departing in three minutes. “He repeats. He’s not speaking to the crowd; he looks directly at the two them. “Should we leave grandma?” she asked in a panic. She doesn’t say anything, just grabs her soft babyish hands and guides her to train.

Senses are enlightened when you feel calamity is near. You see, smell and feel everything. And, so she did for the first time. She gradually aged and as the minutes progressed, as life exists on this train.

The pedestrians walk swiftly onto the train, ignoring each other. You smile, they frown, they smile you stand unsure. The unnatural diplomacy we place high in public places, nevertheless we silently walk alone, yet our battles are similar.

She observantly noticed that no one left, and passengers were disappearing.

We all looked at one another. Death was in the lounge. When one eye witness answered our fears “It’s a grizzly, gruesome sort of creature.” She escapes, but as she utters her last vowel she vanishes.

We flee to the emergency exit. Some were left behind; some selfishly moved alone, some gladly stayed. The desperation was now airborne, as we dropped and rolled one, one by one. Rolling down the pea green grass that felt like nails on the skin. The color green went alone with our gullible glee of a getaway. Believing we’ll see another day.

We hid together in a hotel room. We knew naught where to run or where to hide. But we knew what was in lounge will resurface. We stayed behind another door telling our story of confusion of how we got here; and the last thing we could remember before this nightmare. We hinder closeness, names were not needed, professions, desire and our aspirations, no, we lived for our last breath.

“The last thing I remember... Is getting injured in line of battle…” “I recall, talking to my husband. He kissed me, and there was an intruder…” “My wife kept insisting I take these vitamins…..” We spoke atop of one another out loud.

There was loud breathing at the door, and it made no attempt to open it.

The room grew quiet.

“Do trains even travel through Wyoming?” She asked in a whisper

“It just keeps fucking breathing at the door” and with that, she was gone.

“No, this can’t be…. No, no.. “Grandmother

What?” everyone shouted

“We must be dead?”

“Think of it. Our last memories were of us in danger. . Nothing else.” she said with tears in her eyes

“I refuse to believe that. I’m getting married tomorrow. ”

My grandmother looked at me and mouth “I’m sorry. I didn’t protect you” she grabbed her and held her close to her chest.

After a few days locked in a small room, curiosity and fear sets its foot in the door. Not what’s behind the door, but a stalking mindset that erodes the spirits, and decays hope.

The cozy room was now somber, quiet, even the heavy breathing at the door stopped. The door opens, the room shakes. One by one were picked off. Capture and enraptured.

Locked curled in a fetal position, head in her knees. It was death. Death wasn’t beautiful, grim, or starkly. It was distant, it wore eyes of loneliness. What she saw in it was human, more humane than that of the common man. She wasn’t an afraid anymore, but embracive to seek fate.

It was a tall glass human figure, with mirrors of past lives as its bones. Its body was designed for two different worlds. The torso was light and gay, everything blossomed there, but the waist held a harsh, darkness to death. The upper torsos was quiet as night, while, the bottom half was loud as day. But if you look closely on its elongated body, in the abdomen you’ll see those in foolish limbo. Its legs were the world in its present day. It held the world in its body; heaven and hell, and life.

“Who are you?”

“I’m a friend.”

“So why were they afraid of you?”

“We embody your belief of death.” “She” he pointed at the beautiful woman, now stiff as a mannequin “Death embodied a dangerous creature. We’ve been waiting for you. Your death will be meaningfully”

“What about the other people? “She acquiesced

“They’re you. They were waiting for you. You were supposed to return to us, a year after your birth, but, we desired for you to have peace and love, before your journey.”

“And granny?”

“She’ll find you”

The tall figure takes her tiny hand and lures her to the medicine wheel.

She closed her eyes and didn’t fight the inevitable. And the tears that shed from her now lay underneath her in a puddle of tears with floating black lilies. Her bare feet drenched, battling with stones. She saw not only her death, but those in the train, and nameless victims of the most unimaginable things. She saw those she’ll save. She cried and laughed in her finally moments as a child. Now she’ll be a prisoner of the world, a world that must be freed.

The sounds of wheels on a track, locomotive engine noises, and loud horn at the medicine wheel has been documented. But know sightings of a train. No train exists there, nothing but stones.

Hello? Was I Missed?

2015-09-11T17:52:00.000-04:00

Did I ever cross your mind? Well, no fear Nailah is here! 26, Gosh, I know. Still terribly young figuratively, and literally.
So what you been up to? eh, Life. It's had its ups and downs. But, I walked away from a blog to work on writing. Seems it didn't benefit me much. I just learned today, I lost a writing contest. Aww.. I know I always lose. I want you guys to read what I written tell me what you think... If you're still even there..
I should let you see the other woman, I left you for. And now here begging for your forgiveness? Naughty me

Always & forever
Amour Toujours
Nailah D'arcy

A Woman's Body Is A Man's Temple; Neverthless, She's Still Caged

2014-10-15T12:07:00.000-04:00

Over the weekend, I finally got to visually watch Dangerous Beauty.

Yes, no Trailer!.. Thank Zeus

I've been longing to see this film. I've tried to retrieve it through the library, then, netflex, and now the library finally let the gates flood through, with this national treasure of a poetess.

So the real question is, did I like it? I tell you. But if I do, you must not keep it a secret. You must tell the world with your loquacious tongue...what was said here today.

So what's the fuss about? A fictional tale of the infamous Veronica Franco!

Who was she? An educated, charming courtesan.

May I continue with my review?

Charm effervescently from a voice of the heart of poetess. Every word seems like a scheme to beguile your sense.
Undiluted by the trade of courtesans. Veronica Franco was convinced by her mother that she'll never have the married life ( although, records say she was married before proceeding to becoming a courtesan.. I'll let this slide)

The movie starts off slowly, with a well crafted poem as its presentation. Prostitutes pushed down the lagoons on a gondolas; in a salacious manner, which would be obscene even to people nowadays ( unless this was mardi gras). We see Veronica as a pre teen, when everything, and everyone excite her senses, even courtesans.

Veronica is a bold woman. Vivacious, and lively. Her airy presences catch the eye of Marco Venier.

Her reign of enchantment led men to their depth,with her sympathy.. But there is one man that adores her above all, Marco Venier. He stares into her soul, and reaches out his hand to touches her mind. They go back and forth, filled with enraged jealously, and a damaged ego.

Witchcraft, and unrequited lover bring them back together. As just as the movie began is how it ended, in a gondola.

Loved It & Hated It

There is a distinctive beauty to this film. It has all the eloquence, and the simplicity of Venice. With inserted dialogues of beautiful poetry. Simple, yet felt like you were invading a quaint place that holds all the secrets of beauty, and art.

The trail oration, no words on how beautiful that scene was.

Loved the cinematography stunning.

What I hated: the trial , eh, romantic, yes, nothing like your lover saving you; However, I know that's not how it went down. Too many inaccuracies. I know It's Historical fiction, but, eh.. not a fan of faux romanticized tales.

My ratings 4.5 out of 5
A must see, for those who love beauty, and understand the undefine part of our world.

Amour Toujours My loves

Nailah D'arcy

Photo Link
Photo link https://danassanctuary.wordpress.com/tag/dangerous-beauty/

The Ageless Woman

2014-10-07T15:22:00.001-04:00

A girls voice lies in temptation
In a woman's voice lies in education
The flow of a woman fluidity grows in inflation
To perpetual nothingness
A doted wantonness.
While she ponders on,
She thinks and askew of blunders
Her promiscuity slips through her hands... From a child, a girl, and to a man's... and she sits and wonders
As he enfolds her feigned trotted mind, that was once bold, and his forever remained apprehended.
The delicacy she once had, has fallen from grace,
The temptress in her, now wants to escape..
He looks upon her foible, as a harlots tongue, a manageable foil.
She turns to run, that gyrates to strolling.
Idly she walks as a fugitive, and lands with an another holder, and repressor of her dreams.
Her new lunatic now commands her to regenerate
From a girl, now to a woman, and now she sees.
A girls voice is cut short
A woman noise is a blunt force.

By Nailah D'arcy

Amour Toujours

Senses

2014-09-22T11:00:00.000-04:00

What is love

When you do not speak of it.

Will the heart reap of it?

What is a mind that remain unused.

Would the brain be lightly amused, by your subtle exploitation

Wouldn't that make the mind a perpetrator, an abuser of preferable treatment.

Who will stand up for the impaired?

A senseless mind, or no other-
Who'll impeach this? ....

What is the use of hands, if you can't touch others?

Wouldn't that make life unpleasant, monstrous, odious, and beastly,

Oh I can think of other words. I write them in my head, but my touch leaves me.

What is the use of eyes?

If I can't see through your heart through mines

How would we be able to read into your mind, without overly overtones?

It'll be a blindfolded world, yet, I think we're already acquainted with this one.

What is the use of ears, when you never listen

We'll miss something that seems vernacular, to an ordinary person .

This brings me to the mouth that can't be satiated. We use this without hesitation.

What is a mouth without unbridle truth, yet, one silenced to end, without proof.

What life is without scents.

From the rustic, to divine, to down olfactory

An oppression of the most kind.

What is a world without people?

An impressionable world

A world where sin is as impressionable as a young girl....

Senses are trailing at best, it leaves in moments we need to be abreast.

Written By Nailah D'arcy

Written over

Moonlight Sonata, First Movement

History Of L'amour:" The Ugly Duckling, Ready for Plucking: Part 2

2014-09-15T10:00:00.000-04:00

Andersen had openly bisexually encounters; with his flamboyant propositions, that took on a form of provocative letters, request, and adoration.
While this may have play a commonality among many men in his peer group. Homo-erotic behavior seems to been a favoured among the intellects. By expanding their knowledge, and exploring their sexuality. Andersen would of fit quite well with the clan of Socrates; yet this wasn't ancient Athens. Victorians weren't so forgiven, in this regard.

Many outlandishly called Andersen bisexual....

What's the contrast between verbally sexual, and admiration for those among his peer group?

How far is too far?

What's inappropriate?

What is an innocent exchange?
What are the clear signs?
This is not questions I'm asking you, just obtuse observation.

We are now privy to those openly of "coming out" ( as we call it), yet, even Andersen in his well crafted timeline, never physically came out the closest. What's the best place for a man to come out, then in his own diary?

Is it possible for our beloved eventyr may have been a homosexual, and not know it? I have many questions that'll never be answered.
Many now claim, Andersen shown characteristic of Asperger syndrome. I don't know, and to be quite frank, we'll never know. Speculation, that's it. If that's the case, could this be the reason for his eccentric ways?

Adversely, a small deception displays some hints and signs of hidden emotions. Ludwig Muller, is a prime example. A twenty three adult, robust male, caught the eye of Andersen. Yet his emotions were part of cruel joke of intimation. Letter that signed his name, but not by him. Andersen was heartbroken when the letters stopped.

The most infamous story of them all, starring Mr. Charles Dickiens. Although, it is clear that their relationship was strictly platonic, nevertheless, you sense his deep connection for a male companionship.

Both highly respected literary figures, in the Victoria Era. Their relationship developed under mutual understanding.
These two are what you would call Not quite gentlemen. They may have a drinks with them, and speak on the arts with the upper class; But these two were cut from the same cloth.
They broadcasted the pain of suffering of the underprivileged ( Where is Tim Wise When I need him. I will not attempt to you use the word overprivileged, But I'm itching too) They were true men of the world. Knowing the dark, and light.

Andersen describes their meeting as if there was a center, and the crew running amok; not nothing what to do next. Yet, the two stop stop in their tracks, butterflies, birds chirping about. It was love at first ~~sight~~ write. Running towards each other in slow motion, Okay, I'm done with my saccharine scene.

I think you get the picture.

I'm pretty sure this is how Andersen saw it, but how did Dickens picture it?

Although, their first meeting went very well; In fact, Dickens came to see him off. That should have reminded him of the day when Collin's so eagerly to see him off, yet this time his companion was eager to be in his presences. But It wouldn't be long, until Andersen took that long, and dreary trip back to England.

Prematurely, before his arrival, Dickens sneaked a sly remark, about his companion in writing to those closed to him.

It is said, that Andersen arrived in the Dickens home at the wrong time.
Life for the Dickens was beginning to crumble. And, our dear friend Andersen, is an oddball ( in the most charming way.) what people would call a nuisance, and that he was.

The Dickens family; using words such as Gauche, and Oddity. This left to the family neglect of a man who spoke in broken english, and sonically awkward, left only tense moments.
Overstaying his welcome. Charles, and the Dickens family, subtilely giving signals for Andersen to depart. Once that day came Andersen went his way, and Dickens surely left him behind, only answering to one of Hans letters; never to contact him every again.

Harald Scharff

As a person who adamantly adores Little Dorrit & Bleak House, I'm very shocked and sadden by his behavior towards Andersen. Makes me hate him.. sad to say, but the truth. While this may not indicate a homosexual infatuation, this may prove that he was purely desperation for attention. Which happen to be predominantly male.

Unlike, Hereditary Grand-Duke, whom Andersen outwardly exclaimed "I quite love the young duke, he is the first of all princes that I really find attractive", and Harald Scharff, whom Andersen shared very passionate exchanges with. Both relationships soured over time. Left Andersen in a state of a frenzy. As a man gradually aging, and abandoned; left him with minimal options.

Brothels became Andersen hangout. He'll pay, get close, but end with nothing, but,a high paying conversation, with a prostitute asking to Kneppe, Pour faire l'amour. He wrote about her, stating that she was very sad. He choosed the youngest, and fairest, the unwanted, the crestfallen. He was looking for himself, and he found it in the right place, a pit full of the misused.

Our puritan left with his virginity. Now that raises the question, what of love life was he truly seeking?

Words Of L'amour

History is a pack of lies about events that never happened told by people who weren't there. (George Santayana). That is the truth.
Undoubtedly, Han's appears to be more sincere. Majority of people can somehow sympathize with him. There is a child within all of us that we let go off, and he never did.You can either call him strange, or braves.
I been procrastinating. I feel like I have to let someone, I feel deeply for, that I never meet. go. Eh, I get to attach.
"The world would be so beautiful if only everyone would let their heart play a greater part" Hans Christian Andersen

Amour Toujours

Nailah D'arcy

Clear Window

2014-07-28T07:30:00.000-04:00

There's a window I remember

You, and me last September.

Ideally we would say-

I rather get lost in the woods, while you rather get swept away.

Partially only in two inches of segregation; felt like many miles, many distances of degeneration.

The smell of desperation

The need for separation.

A clear window that held a simple declaration.

He'd rather dream while I rather he disregards the splendor!

There it is again,
That enigma

That window I remember!

But I didn't remember it, until last December.

I'm still there, while he mount a stranger.
One I knew that was coming
Her tandem was heard as I was humming.

Clairvoyant I call myself,
Annoying is an adjective he would enslave in her.

But through that mirror that's what I saw last September.

A perspicuous encounter--

A spiteful mirror
You know the one last September.
The one I shouldn't remember.

Written By Nailah D'arcy

History Of L'amour:" The Ugly Duckling, Ready for Plucking: Part 1

2014-07-21T07:37:00.000-04:00

Who was the man behind the "Ugly Duckling", "The Mermaid", "Thumbelina". If you picture a lonely man with a vivid imagination, as I did, then you were right. What kind of a love life could a childlike man, convey, or draw?

Hans Christian Andersen is known for many things, as he presented, or what we draw of him. He is a man of a complex character. Even I still do not understand the full complexity of this man. A man buried in a florist of fairytales.
He has to be the most interesting person I've ever read. His childlike behavior is downright bizarre; But there is something I like about him. Its universal truth ignorance is bliss, and my universal truth: "You keep your innocence, you get to keep yourself"

Which he was hast on doing.

So how would the amorous love affect a jejune individual? I thought it must have been terribly hard for him. I needed to know him. I feel this need to protect him, Odd, I know...

In the mind of Hans may have been vastly portrayed different by many biographers, and now Romantique Innocence explore the mind of Hans Christian Andersen.........

Riborg Voigt

"And he fell in love with a girl. No better than none, but oddly, in love with another one."
Summer 1830, Hans felt the heat from the sun rays for the first time, and got burnt trying to reach the untouchable. Yep, he fell in love for the very first time.

Oh, The burn of love! Eh, why must I make everything irresistibly cheesy!

Me, just being Me!

Which may have been shocking for a prepubescent man. And, when I say prepubescence, I mean that.
At twenty-five with no tolerance for obscenity, and hedonism. Hans was steadfast on virtue.

The sweet hunger for love, converted for the need of compassion, and understanding. He found that in both Riborg, and Christian Voigt.
This moment was marked in stone, and made many presences in his infatuation, implausible pursuits. Man and woman battling to the end, for Hans. That's probably how it played off in his head.

Now who just was Riborg? I questioned.
She wasn't known as a beauty. But, better yet known for her introversion, and charming personality. An attraction for innocence to seem have been Han's personal favorite. Almost every woman, he screeched loved for having this characteristic.

Riborg Voigt was untouchable, and his first take on heartbreak.
And in his letter of proposal he gladly gave her way to escape. Contradictory, speaking only to her convenience, diplomacy, and sensibility.
Hans did not speak to her heart, and clearly pushed her away. On the other hand, Riborg only seen Hans as a good friend, this also a piece of repetition.

This is where the story become a tragic tale. Her refusal letter was found on him when he died, he kept it in a pocket in his jacket, close to his heart.

Edvard & Louise Collins

"I love you, and your sister; Oh, how I do miss her!"
After Riborg, Hans took a new conquest, Louise Collin. Another failing to add to his list on unrequited lovers. The Collin family were patrons of Hans, and closely linked to his obsession. and acceptance from a family, that did not reciprocate his feelings.

Louise was clearly a shoulder to cry on, after the terrible refusal from the woman that'll forever haunt him.
Although one can't help to think, this fascination only enlightened simply in the imagine of Edvard. She was brought between a tug-a-war of homo-erotic.

Was he love or not with Louise? Keep an open mind until part two, I'll speak on Hans & Edvard.

In a spiel, Andersen written a proposal, and amorous letters. Unlike the first proposal to Riborg, "I wish you both happiness"Please forget someone who can never forget you "If you love this other perosn...please forgive me"; this time it was different. Pity me, understand me, then leave me. Were the words Andersen wrote.
After many pestering letters from Andersen, on New years day, Louise Announced her engagement to another fellow.

What could have been a licked away, simply became antithesis of reality, but this a brutal
blow to the heart from the Collin Family. Andersen decides it's time to travel. With The Collin family there to see him off. Andersen felt isolated, and abandon, and silently chastise by those whom he loved the most.

His life is scarred by both incidents. Making him feel unloveable, which must have been confusing to someone who never been shown, or taught love, and yet, no one was there to teach him about love.

Jenny Lind

"I Found Her, I found her! a little Piece of me. But do I want her? No, But I got to have her, If' She'll Have me, Does she even Know I love thee?
After traveling, and meeting many similar artists, and quick fascinations such of the likes Sophie Ørsted, and Mademoiselle Rachel.

Andersen throughout, made excuses for Riborg, Louise, and Sophie claiming family, wealth, or another fellow got in the way.

He elevated to, Poverty, kept them away from me. Which was a lie. He knew that!

But, Andersen is about to come across a woman, that you might even say wow: she's perfect for this lonely man.

Jenny Lind must of hit Andersen like a ton of bricks. At the time these two crooss paths again, Jenny Lind was in operatic making. ( Jenny Lind does go on to become one of the most famous opera singers)
The similarities between these two, and are pretty damning.
Vastly religious, same turbulent upbringing, and love for art, for the sake of art.

Yes, Jenny Lind was the walking female version of Poor ole' Andersen.

Andersen was not in love with her beauty, but their relatability.

Like always, Hans resorted to writing love letters, and discussion his romantic infatuation with the public, and friends through his writings. Andersen obliviously known that Lind did not reciprocate his feelings, but fancifully wanted to keep the ideal of there love alive, for variety? muse? boredom?

who knows?

While the Swedish Nightingale, lighten up his life thru literature. There was another that's exciting him around this time. Henrik Stampe, a young man of Aristocrat birth. However, they're friendship developed and frozen over fairly quickly.
Henrik appeared to have used Andersen just to get close Jonna Drewsen, whom was very close to Andersen. They two marry.

Jackie Wullschlager insists that these two had an affair, which I'm unsure about, but the possibilities are endless.
Eventually, Lind breaks the news to Andersen, which he wasn't oblivious too in the first place, she see's him as a friend and nothing more.

What could have been a licked away, simply became antithesis of reality.

Undoubtably, Andersen didn't help her see it any other way. Stating " may god see to it that her future husband makes her happy" You can't expect a woman to wooed by simply that.

No!

Everyone around Andersen used him sentimental emotional reasons. Lind for emotional support, and Stampe, for a wife.
It took quite awhile for Andersen to realize this, and once he did he left. This also appears to be Andersen motto. Leave when things get complicated. Making him a cosmopolitan sort of fellow---

But Wait! There's More?

Andersen is sort of a Quelle surprise. While you feel sorry for him, you try your hardest to understand him.
After carefully reviewing Andersen, I feel intrinsically close to what was known as a shell of a man, and heart of a boy. Andersen even noted in his well crafted biographies, and almanac in detail, exacerbated his life. With that he left behind puzzling homosexuality accusations. Which we'll explore in Part 2.

Stay Tuned

Tell me what you think?

Amour Toujours

Nailah D'arcy

Reference

scandinavian.wisc.edu/mellor/

My Lover & My Mistress, & my wife......................

2014-06-30T10:37:00.000-04:00

Once again, I'm back here again

With you

Your note

And your pen-

I have no one to run to

You're the only one that knows my troubles.

Oh I know I trouble you. I once profess my love to you, and only you.

But if I give you a dime would you listen to my chime.

Oh please one last time!

Don't deny me. I would give you a second try.

I promise to leave and never come back this time-

Oh why, oh why

I took your advice.

I went to my lovers, and told them outright. I read to them, what I wrote for them.

That you advised me last night.

I confessed!

I must recite my penance.

"To you my wife I write this-

My love you've always had the upper hand

You make all the commands

I play right into your hands

Although, I love you

I need another-

To fill the void and the imagery that I want to explore.

One who titillate my sentence, and validate my ploys.

I need two, no, but more to make me satiate my taste for more.

To you my adorable mistress-

Your oeuvre has won over me Misses. I wouldn't dare tell you her name, but I can tell you she's a poesy testy enchantress.

My laconic is now ubiquitous, now that I have spoken, and read this seductress.

You might even know her

You might even touched her

In a secret world, you may have fucked her.

To the one I recite this too

I promised myself only one

But then, I met you, and was swoon

Now who is to blame?

I wanted you without shame, and now I sit in mourning of all I become and what I lost.

What a sadness coitus is put in use for.

You, my love, my wife I fooled you once, but I can't fool you twice

Your simple imagination with hearts.

And you my mistress, poetry you, oh my temptress

You, my darling, sitting next to me, in ink dapper in what's black, silver, and white-

You had me at first sight, heed my monotone slurred.

My doctor, my therapist, my concise, you soothe my mind, my conscious, and my licentiousness. Now what has become of this?

Me? A hit, and a miss?

I thought I could you keep you all amidst!

How bad was I with this?

You want to know why I did this? Simple

I'm a woman for a taste of this-

My lover is feisty, seductive, and voluptuous

My wife is allure, trusting, and colorless

My wife never suspects, no apprehension

She's jejune, She is inept and sometimes a delusionalist.

While my lovers sucks me in, and draws me in, and lives in my head.

Daring me, intoxicating me, teasing me, arouse me, surrounds me and covers me in my head

throughout the night

While my wife, only calms me, speaks sweet nothings and leaves me numb, yet dumb but fills my heart"

I need to more to life than this.

Language speaks levels to me;

It's never a hit, or miss with me.

While I implore this to you, my concise, do you have advice for a cheating minx?

Because I lost my prolific place, and I need a new mix!

By Nailah D'arcy

Amour Toujours

Nailah D'arcy

*Note*
I have a feeling I have to explain this piece I wrote. My Lover & My Mistress, & my wife.
My wife resembles Love, my mistress is Poetry/Literature, and my Lover/Therapist is my is my concise. Metaphorically, these things shrouded my life at one time or another, and competely occupied all my time.

Mes Amours

2014-06-18T12:00:00.000-04:00

Sorry, I haven't posted anything since.

One, it was my birthday week ( a little awhile ago, but still. I don't like to think around that time), two, I'm finally settling down and learning french ( which has been an on, and off lesson), three, the weather has been atrocious, and other stuff.

I'm working on my favorite project as we speak "History of L'amour". I really want to learn the individual down to the detail.

My apologies, on boring you with the insights of my life. How unexciting it may seem, but I wanted to let you know, I'm still with you. Just writing a lot less ( well here). I want to learn from the best to become the best, and the best takes time, not over night.

Until then Mes Amiis,

Amour Toujours

Nailah D'arcy

S'interroger

2014-06-02T17:37:00.000-04:00

Once I loved......

He knew naught

I could never show my feelings.

Why not?

Tenderness was never part of me

I was one, with a fondness of apathy.

Why's that?

Because it was only shown to me.

We only duplicate what we see.

Who told you that?

I, and me

And sometimes she and he.

They shown me by actions,

Something words cannot express;

But kindness, that digress as debris.

He told me he love me before!

Really?

With only his eyes, and nothing more.

How did you know?

Because my soul told me so.

My heart cried,

My soul rest to sow

Are you lying?

Don't I have an orchestra behind me, a cantata chorus beside me.

What you think is amidst me, a fabricator.

Wow, what a mystery

My imagination proceeds me!

No, it's my heart, devoid of me.

Would you ever go back?

What too heartache?

No, I a rather stay alone with me

An interrogate my concise

Now you see!

You destitute to be lonely only with me

Why yes?

Doesn't it get boring being with me?

No, because I'm always with me
Your rationality secures me....
Is it so?
Yes, because no one will ever hear me.

-By Nailah D'arcy

One Saucy Wench: Pity A Second Hélène Of Troy?

2014-05-27T10:00:00.000-04:00

Now, mind you, I have divulge in what seems to be the first mundane soap opera.
I completely hate soap operas, they absolutely make no sense to me whatsoever. I despise the cheesy, oh how I do! Nevertheless I was bored with netflix so close to me, with a little volition, I looked at the recommendations netflix laid out for me.
Irrevocably there it was in plain sight a picture of Gina McKee in a very elegant red dress. Dressed as a patina. I've seen her in The Borgia's, and was left impressed. Thus, how did I know I'd end up hating the sight of this woman just by the poster.

A woman instinct?
Maybe, how knows!

At first it seemed a fairy typical storyline, rebuffed wife, and besotted husband ( I know right, the originality is quite refreshing, lol). Marginally The Forsyte Saga is all about possessiveness, selfishness, and thoughtlessness, which we all posses as Homosapien.
Yet, I noticed favour towards Irene's suffering, while, Soames is left misunderstood?

My blood boiled at the sight of Irene Forsyte. Galsworthy was way to forgiving towards her very flawed nature.

I tried to remain impartial, but as you see, I'm pro-Soames. I'm going to tell you why.

1. Irene knew from the start she'll never love him, and when they were married she never tried to compromise. Desperate for money, instead of marrying Soames she could have convert into a governess, music teacher,etc, learn from Jane Eyre, or better yet, Jolyon's first wife.
Some might say she's a gold digger, or you might say, those were the times, and women do desperate things to survive.

I say BS!

She could have stayed single; Irene had that option. So don't cry about a loveless marriage. Many women before, and after suffer an obsolete marriage.

2. She played the Victim.
Every mishap was a fault of their own. In her mind she didn't contribute to anything. Woe me, Woe me, my life is horrible, my husband built me a house, and tries to be nice to me. Woe me, Woe me, my husband is loyal, but I have a lover, and he still loves me. Woe me, Woe me I hate the sight of my unattractive husband, ah, woe me.

Do you see the flood of my tears? Do you? Now fill my tube with me.

3. Irene was a terrible friend to June Forsyte. Who sleeps with their best friend fiancé? Who? Tell me? Who?
Now do you think, if that was you: would you ever be able to be friends with that woman every again?

That means she's not trustworthy, right?

Of course The Forsyte Saga didn't go into that.

Well June did! Let Zeus have mercy on her forgiving nature, because I know I wouldn't!

There is no way in hell you can't tell me when this transaction aspired, you weren't thinking , Wow ,what a selfish b!tch.

4. This is the part the stuns me the most. She should have left England, when she left Soames.
Right?

Wouldn't you if you were so terrified of someone?

Afterwards, she became a parasite to the Forsyte family. Puting Jolyon, June, Jolyon Sr in the middle of her rift with Their family. Now unlike most people, I find that to be the biggest disrespect of them all. Never come between a family. It shows you have a lack of character, and driving on their resentment, rather logical respect.

Never come between a family!

5. In the end, Irene was no different from Soames. She showed her true selfishness with her son. He's strong love for Soames Daughter, Fleur ( Out of all the chacters, her and Jon are my favorites.) was the true test of Posseiveness.

It seems that John Galsworthy didn't seem to catch on to this. Emotionally possessiveness is the worst of them all. Preying on someone fears! And to your own children, eh, how disgusting.

Her reasons were that she didn't want to be alone, and she didn't want to share grandchildren with a man she loathes.

So in her case, my son must suffer because of my bad decisions?

Once again, Wow.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
While, I'm still viewing the first cinema adaption, and reading the novel as we speak. I will always be bias towards her ( can't even say her name).
I don't respect people whom can't admit their failings. Which she feigning does on various occasion, disgustingly.
On the other hand, I'm not excusing Soames behavior. He did rape Irene. I have to admit, she brought that on herself. She brought that man to madness, left him on Cassandra( mythology) door steps.

Without any sympathy.

What did she expect?

The Forsyte Saga showed that we hate people for qualities we have in ourselves, and we as people hold it against them.
Torture them for it, because we hate ourselves for it.

The feuding families were no different for each other. Makes you question life is general. There are no villains, or heroes. Even if the Author tried to make it so.

What do you think?

Amour Toujours

Nailah D'arcy

Definition

2014-05-07T07:30:00.000-04:00

Love is artificial weapon,
Artifice that stands erected,
Adept in words, and is extremely affective-
But is control not love, but, yet control is the perception.

But what is love without the wants and needs of perfection?
What would Love mean
What the definition scribe?
What would this heresy hide?
An oblivious awareness of sentiment?
Whomever thought love could simply mean this?

What is love without this infection?
Do we need love to cure our imperfections?
Simply our inaccuracies
Desperately seeking a approval from those we need-
I see, I see!
Love is a ego-boost
Born, Raised, and Conceived
From each child, that needs to please.

Love to me is a definition of hierarchy-
One demands with falsified intentions
One they never seem to mention-
I get, I get!
Love is unbelievable expectations
A heartless sensation
Is that its definition?
What am I missing?

Once it was an affliction,

So why now it's an addiction?
Now that I no its unfavorable infliction.

By Nailah D'arcy

Amour Toujors

Nailah D'arcy

Every woman get's on her back for profit. While, every man would sell's his spine for wealth; Both either noticeable, or subtly.

2014-05-05T10:50:00.000-04:00

House of Pleasure ( AKA House of Tolerance) only shed highlights on the first half of the opening title.

My title, or the movie title may strike, or revolt you. Nevertheless, everyone needs to tap into all sides of the world; its proximity is right outside your door; with light taps opens the door to the Twilight of the 19th Century.

This courageous nominal is ever woman, just in different faculties. We all suffer from the want to be love, a need of a saviour.
As the madam explains to the little one "Do you want to marry? " no" she answers, the madam replies "Why are you lying?... Don't fool yourself. A man rarely marries a prostitute."

My ideal of Boredolla blended with nymphs collectively in water, ( Well, that did sorta of happened ) orgies ( Well that happened too), decadent fashion ( Check that one too) unrequited love, (That's expected) double-crossing ( That happens every day).

Let's just say this my foresight was little glamorized, more counterintuitive.

While most stories tend to glorify brothels, House of Pleasures tones down those ideas, and reaches for depth. Umasking strong women, in the finale of upscale prostitution; with the common street walker on the uprising.

Samira "the Algerian"

Poetically this film is apocryphal of malapropistic. Maneuvers through a time capsule, through modern film score, abstract photos, and the future of a street walker.

House of Pleasure is an elegy with a meagerly plot. The women live inside what they're told is paradise ( compare to many other places ). Nevertheless, each knowing life would be the same behind close doors, as it would be in the light, or worst, when the clap is shut, you'll always have to open it, to get places.

Outside, Charon is demand coinage for passage, and every man pays willingly.
And, they accept their lot, by jokily talking about they're partners, sexual transmitted diseases, and disgruntle personalities; although inside they're broken.

I have a love for realism. And, the french distinctively have a grab on this. They truly know how to paint a beautiful portrait, yet, with only a turd as its model. In retrospect, its never superficial. Everything is geared towards life, and what it holds, its flaws, and our destructive behaviors. A portraitist design, of a setting that you and I created; unlike american cinema, that creates one on its own.

This a film you'll either like, or hate. For me I loved it. I thought the writing was, eh, but the acting was phenomenal. Memorable, and strikingly touching.

Poetic justice, and poetically sad.

*Note* if you hate reading subtitles, or an conservative individual; this is not the film for you.*

4 1/2

I'll leave you with love

Amour Toujors

Nailah D'arcy

Other fantastic reviews. Better than mines :)

slantmagazine.com/film/review/house-of-pleasures/

legacyseriesbooks.blogspot.com/2014/04/the-house-of-pleasures-shocking-movie

Albums fait Avec l'amour: Body Music

2014-04-23T07:07:00.000-04:00

While I was a little hesitant to purchase this album, knowing undoubtedly, each track will be very similarly. In the past, those whom possess child-like vocal range never seem to last; mostly known as a one-hit wonders. With this stigma, It'll be very hard for AlunaGeoge to attain longevity. Although, I have stated on various occasion I adore such voices. It's just too cute, to the point that you never take the artist serious.

Having said that, we've seen singers such as her come and go, yet admittedly, Aluna proves to be creative songstress. A tigress of some sort. She knows how create a contagious hook, proved in "You Know Like It Like That" their first single that gained them notoriety; following "Your Drums, Your Love", and quirky lovers BS " "Attracting Flies", and a fun party song "Bad Idea", an lightly erogenous touch in "Body Music", & "Outlines", "Driver" and "Friend To Lovers"

The first half of the album is promising, while the second half is a struggle. Every song sounds oddly similar and sometimes even juvenile.
"Best Believing ", and my ultimate favorite "Kaleidoscope Love"are cleverly interesting. A testament on their signature style that's outdated, but more polished.

Whereas, some moments bring you back to booing at Amateur Night At the Apollo, and losses its creative drive and verges on vapid immaturity.
In songs such as: the remake "This Is How We Do It", "We Are Chosen"(AlunaGeorge first single), "B Ur Boo","Indestructible","Put Your Hands Up" "Lost & Found" ( although,an inspiring mix in the chorus, i'll admit) and "Friend's To lovers" and "Superstar" a subtly praise to her partner in crime George Reid ( Only speculation ).

However, this is when it becomes a drag.

AlunaGeorge debut album"Body Music" is inspiring, yet uninspiring. It feels like every 90's group, with a mixture 80's, and a pinch of R&B.

Nevertheless, I love how Francis voice verges on the embodiment of a lolita.The voice of innocence, but soft caresses of a temptress.

But twenty-four minutes of Body Music debut is an invigorating mix on playful, equilibrium, sardonic, and seduction. Even the annoying sets have my attention, believing that maybe if I listen to it a few more times, I might, just might see their vision.

Whilst they're some easy hits on this album, unforgettable pieces. If I could give any advice to AlunaGeorge, I would tell them to try a range of varieties of sound. Electronic is great, but it may be the death of their duo. By all means don't stop, but, looks elsewhere for inspiration.

However I will note, Aluna Francis she should strictly stick to writing. Her skills are impressive.
In spite off the mundane moments, "Body Music" is an album of love, not just love songs, etching cry of individualist rebellion, titillating tracks, but a collaboration that has sugar in their corner.

Rating 3 1/2

Truly fun album, for anyone who like this genre of music.

Amour Toujours

Nailah D'arcy

Eh, Haters. Right?

2014-04-10T10:00:00.000-04:00

I'm what you call a modernized tramp?

Well, not the sort of tramp you, and I seem to know. One the meaning to popularized tune by Lorenz Hart ( if you're not familiar to songs meaning please read)
I'm one with a tone stuck in her head, and Plato in her hand. One that never gossips, and one that never cares who she, and he is with, one never spread shame, or dare cast blame, on the stupid, the dumb, and the dull-witted. << I love it when I rhyme

Many things don't escape my notice!

Its this trend, that's a vermin a disguise.., You've heard the contagious noun,that surfaces everywhere. "Hater", or better yet "#Hater#; now as a substitute, the disingenuous continuum "negative energy".

Zeus, do people giving people these titles, nowadays.

It's become prominent for our society to feed off of haters, that feast off the idea of superiority, and inferiority complex. On the other hand, the villain sometimes being blamed for miscommunication. Or, in some case, the noun comes alive.
I want to take a step back, and truly unravel the fraudulent layers of the "Hater". Once I simplify the true identity of it, you might start question the underlining simpatico.

Just, ah, a misunderstood public quandary, I'd say.

Honestly, and when you hear why people dislike certain individuals; You have to sit back for a moment, take in the information, try to digest it, if you can. And then, boom, you'll realise, it's the dumbest thing you've ever heard in your life-- --I'll let you be the judge of that:

The perpetrator speaks

"She/He thinks she's better than me" ( what you're going to hate everyone who thinks that. Well you'll be hating everyone you know)
I don't like how she looks at me ( women are good with this one)
"I don't like how she/he speaks to me "
"They're weird, I don't like them"
"Your ideas conflict mines, I don't like you"
"Your skin color is different from mines, I don't like you,"
"You're dumber than me, I don't like you",(instead of helping you, I'll berate you)
"Your in a different social class, I don't like you"

Now let's hear the Victim. Hey, there's always two sides

You're going to love this one "I have designer clothes , so she/he must be hating on me"
"My weave is the bomb. She Just hatin" ( Do they still say the bomb? lol, I hope not)
"I fu*** hotter women/men than you"( thank you Kanye, and almost every musician for that one)
She hatin, because I'm prettier ( oh, this one is a classic)
That's the best I can come up. If you know more, please inform me.
And we teach children to be civilised. Wow, the contradictory is not escaping me here.

We've gotten ourselves to the point, of a simple disagreement, defines you as a hater. Albeit, the one being hated on, bask in the glory of being admired. Sorry to say this, but WTF?
My Experience
I don't hate people for these superficial issues. In fact, I really don't even care, what most things people take seriously.
Knowing me, I'll just laugh. Think nothing of it.
So when I hear people complain about these flaws of others, I'm baffled. I mean as human begins we want to all be accepted, yet automatically, ostracize people for a behavior that we don't understand, however, on the flip side you'll want to be accepted for your originality.

Truly a double standard

Don't worry I been in these situations. I was that girl whom had haters, and a few times got caught what you'll call hating.
But then I grew out of it. It served no purpose.
Nowadays, If I dislike someone my reasons makes sense. If not, I will disregard my feelings.
However, if someone dislikes me, there is nothing I can do it about. I'll never whine, and seek pity for it. Most chances likely, those reasons I named, are their excuses.
And, for that reason, I don't care. Judge me on my person, not a shallow conclusion.

Words Of Wisdom

Moribidly, this has become an epidemic.
See the problem is we are fighting each other over petty things. This is why, whomever is on top, can stay there, because the peasants will fight each other over the crumbs.
Their need to feed their lost ego. Yet, they're ego is getting in the way of tremendous growth. That's why nouns such as "Hater" grows.

And it's not one sided, its both parties.

I don't hate people. I might not like their ideas, or selfishness, but I don't hate them. Whenever, hate becomes part of the pictures, it's when individuals do atrocious things to others. However, I realise, they're just a product of their environment.

Rambling, sorry

To sum it up, never do I go below the belt, or I will ruin their chances, not then, or now. Unlike most individuals, I can say very nice things about people I detest the most.
Sometimes there's a hint of respect, in my dislike.

So next time you're being hated on, or if you're being the hater. Ask your is it really worth all of this? >>>>>>

Amour Toujours

Nailah D'arcy

Love is Average, Intellect is Average, And so is the Idea of Beauty...?

2014-03-22T10:00:00.000-04:00

Believe it or not, Angelina Jolie, is not a figment of the golden ratio.

I've come across, in the Nyx of the night, the golden ration.

I took it upon myself to take the simple quizzes, of whom I believe to be beautiful, and whom I thought was so-so, at the perfect human face, and brain games.national geographic. ( which are fun, and informative sites. If I might add)
While the men, and women they put forth were pretty, but in my humble opinion, not the extraordinaire beauties, that will stop me in my tracks.

Most of the ones I choosed, never matched up to the societal ruling. My average grade was a D. I was told I need to check on what's hot, and not.

Me?

Madness?

My taste is exquisite! haha

Yet, the ones that were normally chosen, I was baffled. Thinking " this is what they consider beautiful. Whoa. I'm thinking, 'I see men, and women that epitomized these features, almost every day'.
And, if you know me, you know I hate normal. I hate anything that promotes normality. Why would you want something, that everyone can have. Something that everyone presents?

I don't get it!

But enough, about what I like. It's time for me to tape into as to why normalcy is so instinctively accepted.
Well, we'll a few steps back, and deal with part of the problem that's in front of us, now.

Yes that thing that's called... beauty.

As Romantique Innocence uncovers beauty, in the name of beauty. The divine proportion have now evolved me...

Let's see if the Divine Proportion, is really that Divine?

Luca Pacioli Picuture Link

The Antiquity Of The Golden Ration?

I can't go into a subject, without speaking on its creator, yet, there are only two collectives that can take claim to PHI. Which is easy to guess, but, I'll say it anyway, the Egyptians, and the Greeks.

Surprising, huh?

However, PHI, is formerly known as the creation of The Greeks. And named after Phidias, a Greek sculptor, painter, and architect.
Whomever was the first to come upon phi, we'll never truly know.
Nonetheless, a series of events of phi, went through a variety of great thinkers, and with great thinkers, comes new ideas.

With Phi in mind, came along with the perception of what is 'beautiful'.

The Divine proportion didn't become the figment of beauty until, The Renaissance, by the father of accounting, Luca Pacioli, and also with the helped of Leonardo da Vinci illustrations, that never seems to escapes us.
You've seen that drawings.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Yeah, that one.

Crito of Alopece"In faith, my opinion is that beauty is to be found quite as well in a horse or an ox or in any number inanimate things. I know, at any rate, that a shield may be beautiful, or a sword, or a spear."Crito goes on to say, beauty is here to serve our needs. While the Golden Proportion doesn't just remain in the humane form, this proportion is in art, architectural, and nature( just a few examples).

The golden ration may esteem in more than one way. So as humans we look for perfection that can not be accomplished, but the need to believe that something average is special. We're all hopeless Don Quixote..

Although, I didn't do the calculations.
I'm sure Rihanna doe not have the ratio,
but formerly known as a beauty.

Has The Divine, Come Down Its Pedestal?
Our human psyche tries its hardest to find the Divine proportion, yet there have been recent studies to challenge this notion.
According to Pamela Pallett and Stephen Link of UC San Diego and Kang Lee of the University of Toronto.
They don't believe that the golden ration holds, any special qualities, it just averaging from what we see on a regulatory basis.

While Meisner, Gary B, believes the golden ratio, is still indeed special. Because, simply their new calculations still holds the prominent equation, of the golden ratio, however, with a keen observation, notes that their discoveries are close to "relative attractiveness" ( which is something, I discussed in: Are You In Love With Yourself? )

Which I can agree with.

As the Greeks say " No one is good for our family, expect our family."
In my humble opinion, I believe the golden ration is unique, however, not for the reason you, and I have been told. But for merely the usage of its versatility. In other words, what we may know now is primitive, but ironically the golden ration may hold more than, just the simplicity of math, and beauty. ( Just pondering)

Ideal beauty gradual changes in each age group, not instantly, but moves toward an evolving transition. Just as math, and every generation.

Beauty Is controversial, But why?

"A Modern Venus,
or a Lady of the Present Fashion in the state of nature 1786"
Walpole, Horace

Statistics of beauty have been incessant challenged, constantly.
Just take a minute, and google: beauty: watch youtube, the endogeneity is a complex matter, that turns people into a state of frenzy.

Beauty has an intrinsic value, of what's in and not, what is useless, and what is prized.
We all know beauty is subjective, and variate through different societies, yet it still boils our blood.

I'm not at all bias. I've read the many comments . Individuals exacerbating their frustrations to our westernized views.
I agree, it's wrong to holds someone value to their physical attributes.....
But then I have to say, who cares what other's think of you. You don't need anyone's approval, but your own. Which I stated many times before.

One note, I'd like to add before I leave this topic. Whenever beauty is the topic of choice , people tend to get very sensitive. Indiviuals fight more on the topic of vanity, then the rights of human suffering. And whenever, they speak on suffering, it only relates to themselves, Hmm...
Maybe if we let go of this selfishness, then vanity like this, may dissolve.

We can't win, if people are slandering individuals like this >>10 signs that you're ugly

If you contribute to the problem, you can't complain about anything, at all.

Hatred only comes from hatred.

Beautiful Words

I read some interesting, and controversial findings by Dr. Satoshi Kanazawa, Dr. Stephen Marquardt, Angela M. Griffin, Judith H. Langlois, and more.

Listening to a variety of views, fairly.
I can't fight people on their opinion. I can only fight them on hypocrisy, and mistreatment.

There are some things I agreed with, and other things I don't agree with at all. But I also found out about my way of thinking of beauty. Things that I didn't like, things that will become vapid to my ideals.
Admittedly, my vanity is shown in Mlle Flamboyant, and Dream Guy, my externals blogs. However, it would also be strange to do profiles, on random people. Very.
( Hint: pictures of celebrities are also subjective. Altering photos will grant the art of illusion of beauty)

But the lingering question still hangs over me, what makes something/person alluring?
Sorry, science cannot answer that question for me. Maybe for some, but not me. Or the most famous quote, Beauty is in the eye of the beholder (Zeus, do I get tired of hearing that one)

As I am a woman, only of tangible words. Ah, how I love them. They're like a beautiful woman, with or without make-up. The best woman of them all. Nonetheless, math has never been my forte.

I'll leave you with my own equation.

As I stated above, I've I never had a taste for, average. So I for sure don't have a taste for average beauty.
In conclusion, we all have something that the next doesn't have.

The golden ratio = average

While we all = Beauty

So together we make perfection

Maybe that's the true equation of the golden ratio..

Amour Toujours

Nailah D'arcy

Special Note
*Arithmetic has never been my strongest point. So if anyone can explain, in plain english the golden ratio to me. You deserve a Nobel Prize.*

Reference

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1447532/

http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0042698909005045

http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/12/091216144141.htm

http://community.middlebury.edu/~harris/Humanities/TheGoldenMean.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_ratio

http://www.goldennumber.net/face/

http://theperfecthumanface.blogspot.com/

http://www.goldennumber.net/facial-beauty-new-golden-ratio/

http://education.nationalgeographic.com/education/media/golden-ratio/?ar_a=1

http://majorityrights.com/weblog/comments/the_facial_proportions_of_beautiful_people/

Socrates By Anthony Gottlieb

Galatea

2014-03-07T07:51:00.000-05:00

Photo Of Fu'ad Aït Aattou

I lay,

He gaze.

Her epitome is on display

His sensuous length, on a poised exhibit.

He stands intimidated and timid.

She laid waiting,

A coquette portrait.

The first draft

Without finishing touches;

She embody layers of ink, and synthetic dyes

Her rough edges, appears in her plaintive eyes.

While he's dapper in oil
Already desensitized

Modernized in appeal, for the general populist

But still

They synchronous, in a scattered etch of what's real.

His face laced with beauty

And, hers extremely bizarre-

Her touch lingers with shivers, crowns and covers his artistry, and, his heart.

His breathing layers heavily

Transparently, and quietly
But with the means, of art.

While, her cries, stiffs on her face, as an Alla Prima-

Their mouth opens wide, into a deaf-less- OH!
They create still-less tempera.

Strangely, and oddly
She knows
Pygmalion could'n't have made him better.
He's decorated as a centerpiece.
One creative in the eyes,
Splendor into divine.
A beauty that can be only created with hands.

She dreams

Soaking in the moment

Drunken, speaking belligerently

He holds her close

Seeing her shedding away, deliberately.

In and out of unconsciousness.

Inhibited inane, yet still so alluring-

His limited words were slurred, while, admiring the gage

Eyes vaguely maneuvering holding its intense gaze

Savoring the reverie

He adoringly held her near

She's enthralled, by his simplistic debonair

She closed her eyes, and breathed in his scent.

Their fingers stretch so far in a chiaroscuro display,
Before she's was once erased- away-

Blended into the darkness

They stood craquelure
They stood, and erased away
They stood cracked severely
Broken down, separated harshly
Distantly from each other
Sullen eyes from their lover
Now
Stretched in and out of sleep.

She sleeps

He only invade her dreams-

Her eyes open wide

There stood her lover of her dreams-
As marble
As rock
As crystals
As a beautiful coliseum.

She's succumb to daydreams

He is the one, she wants

The one she needs,

Her one and only
Her Galatea
By Nailah D'arcy

Amour Toujous

Nailah D'arcy

If you're curious, I written this over "Waltz for piano No. 9 in A flat major ('Farewell' / L'adieu') Op. 69/1 (posth.), B. 95" By Frédéric Chopin

Memoirs Of A Geisha: Book Review, Again?

2014-02-25T07:00:00.000-05:00

While my first attempt, to write a suitable book review on the Memoirs of Geisha ending up being a complete mess. I'm going to try to write one that doesn't subsequently, give away the storyline, yet an emotive review.

.. So here I go..

Memoirs of a Geisha, is an interesting tale. One with a fascination, of the questionable identity of the Geisha. While, Arthur Golden, couldn't fully answer the question, with the facts that were laid out to him. To be quite frank, I'm also at a road block.

Is the Geisha a courtesan, or an artist?

Which is a matter of opinion.

Unequivocally, the story duplicates Cinderella, intermingle with Pretty Women, yet eloquently told; which quickly loses its essence of the Japanese culture.
However, you'll forgive Mr. Golden when you read the tragic tale of Chiyo-chan ( The protagonist. Our Cinderella).
You'll come to admire her tenacious spirit. She represents everything we love in a person/ honest, selfless, and innocent. Let's not forget Cinderalla was known for her beauty, Chiyo-Chan is not exempt from that picturesque visual.
Her eyes become the main event of the show, a gelatinous feature, that becomes memorable, and makes her the most sought out Geisha.

While the antagonist, is a mere picture of a future that could be her own. Hatsumomo is that everyday reminder, and nuance. Hitherto, the protagonist is also a painting to her. Chiyo-chan, reflects what she lost in herself. Their unholy war is a matter of pride, subsequently, Chiyo-chan is left without defenses; elaborately, Hatsumomo have an infantry, standing by her for the riches she promises, the Okiya.

Other obstacles stand in her way, an unrequited lover, greedy individuals, the war, but what keeps her hope, is love. Very typical, nevertheless, isn't that what keeps many of us steadfast in this life, hope.
Albeit, its her hope that you fear for her the most, because its unrealistic. Chiyo-chan love is returned, but at what cost a few years with your lover, still as his mistress?

In the end, I sympathized with the protagonist. Not fully understanding her aspirations. I believe Arthur Golden may have felt the need to dulled the character existence. Not letting the protagonist fully grasp the facets of her life.

Because, in the end she was just as lonely, as in the beginning.

Her life was fruitless, tremulous, and flawed like many of our lives, yet I feel a closeness to Chiyo-chan. I felt she was simply taken advantage of, simply by everyone that claimed friendship, and professed love.
Nostalgic, in the last few pages.. showed her innocence kept within, but shedding on the outside.

All she strived for was easily taken away, and hard to gain.

Arthur has a simple way with words. Evocatively describes the beauty of everything, Geisha. The visual beauty intrinsic with a serenade ballad; one of a sequestered loner, and tragic love story. Which was not depicted in the film.

Sorry I had to write it over. It was killing me. There are many more, but I settle for this one.

Amour Toujours
Nailah D'arcy

Bon et petit.. McDonlad's?

2014-02-12T09:37:00.000-05:00

When Mcdonalds aren't serving the public foods, that are high in sugars, silly putty, and preservatives-
Also, avoiding to pay their paying taxes;
They're creating grand ideas, such as:
Valentines candlelight dinner!!

"So here it is babe,
I love you so much, that I'll take you to the unhealthiest place on earth. A place, that doesn't want their employees, to eat off their well-cherished menu.
Hmm, but you know what Baby, it's good enough for you.."

Yes my cheap friends, take the one you love, to a company that's feeding the world questionable food. That's how much I love you.

Nothing says Love, more than Mcdonalds!
Are you loving it?

This just the most laughable theme Mcdonald's has come up with, yet. If any dater, or those in a relationship, are seriously considering this a lovers date.

(Some people are making it a family affair. Stop the madness!)

Stop in your tracks now. There a cheaper, and healthier accommodations. Read More

bon et petit

Amour Toujours

Nailah D'arcy

Before eating at a fast food restaurant Read this>Fast-food-truths

Lost In Lust Sunday

2014-02-02T07:37:00.000-05:00

Carnal Apple, Woman Filled, Burning Moon,

Carnal apple, Woman filled, burning moon,
dark smell of seaweed, crush of mud and light,
what secret knowledge is clasped between your pillars?
What primal night does Man touch with his senses?
Ay, Love is a journey through waters and stars,
through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain:
Love is a war of lightning,
and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness.
Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity,
your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages,
and a genital fire, transformed by delight,
slips through the narrow channels of blood
to precipitate a nocturnal carnation,
to be, and be nothing but light in the dark.

Written By Pablo Neruda

Sorry I stop doing NFPF. Others caught on to that trend, so I slowed down that process, and just enjoyed my favorite poets in the comforts alone at home. I've become a big fan of Pablo Neruda work, that's it's hard for me not to post his effortless classics.

Amour Toujours

Nailah D'arcy