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Tag Archives: etymology

Taking A Liberty

28 Wednesday Mar 2018

Posted by Candia in art, Language, Literature, mythology, Philosophy, Poetry, Politics, Social Comment, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

anarchy, Andromeda, Animal Farm, Burne-Jones, Cassiopeia, casuistry, censorship, Diaz, Dr Atl, etymology, free expression, guerilla warfare, hacendados, Heaven, Hell, Liberty, liberty/licence, Pre-Raphaelites, Prometheus, revolution, volcanoes

Another poem inspired by Prometheus Unbound

by P B Shelley:

Andromeda by Burne-Jones: Wikipedia

 

A wheel will come full circle, you will find.

The outcome’s in the etymology

of ‘revolution.’  Think ‘Animal Farm.’

 

‘You seize the flower; the bloom is shed,’ Rab said.

Heaven and Hell are one’s inner landscapes.

Give a man an inch; he’ll take a mile.

 

Liberty/ licence – where to draw the line?

Free expression/ censorship : who can judge?

Anarchy is based on casuistry.

 

Prometheus played with fire and was burnt.

Imagination versus tyranny.

He who is king over himself is free.

 

Cassiopeia took the liberty

of a frank assessment of others’ looks.

Say nowt if you can’t say anything nice.

 

Why did the Pre-Raphaelites feel free

to create soft porn from mythology?

Liberty bodices off; shackles on.

 

‘When tigers are unleashed, who controls them?’

said Diaz, while Dr Atl opposed

slaves’ exploitation by hacendados,

 

exploding guerilla warfare into print,

like lava from his beloved volcanoes –

but he still became a neo-Nazi.

 

So, I’m suspicious of all these Titans,

larger than life, whose words stream in the wind.

They’re the self-acknowledged legislators,

 

crying, ‘Liberty, equality… (Blah!)

prior to being overthrown – not by a coup –

yet everywhere men are free, but in chains.

 

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Evil Couplings

25 Thursday May 2017

Posted by Candia in Community, Crime, Language, News, Poetry, Religion, Social Comment, Writing

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Blackburn, counterclockwise, Dangerous Woman, DNA, dockyard confetti, etymology, evil coupling, flange, gimlet, internal fixation, Jahannam, jam, Man United, Manchester, Manchester Arena, Mancunian, nuts and bolts, Ormskirk, Preston, retronym, Rochdale, Salford, Salman, screw loose, shrapnel, suicide bomber

MEN Arena.jpg

(Manchester Arena: Image by Pitt-yacker at

Wikipedia)

 

In Hope Street they manufacture nuts, bolts…

The company is even called ‘Nail It.‘

(Man United usually does just that.)

Salford, Manchester, Blackburn, Ormskirk,

Rochdale, Preston – all ‘nuts and bolts‘ places.

Their people are frank and they don’t quibble

over distinctions between flange and jam.

They vote ‘righty-tighty; lefty loosey.‘

At weddings there’s no ‘dockyard confetti‘

and shrapnel is small change in a pocket.

They know their hardware inside out and don’t

excuse idiots who have a screw loose.

They expect ‘Salman’ to mean a ‘blessing’:

that’s what the etymology suggests.

But they can differentiate as well –

‘Dangerous Woman‘ is just a concert

and not a female suicide bomber.

When someone with internal fixation

and tensioned beyond proof starts to behave

in a counterclockwise manner, they know

that it’s not about connection, coupling,

conjunction.

But they had no time to crack

a nut who suddenly raised his own head;

someone whose helical rage respected

no one else’s DNA – who spiralled –

blasted into Jahannam’s lowest pit,

not in a blaze of glory, but in shards

of eye, shoulder, thumb, rib neck and hex bolts.

‘Human being‘ needs a modifier.

We need to qualify with retronyms:

‘compassionate‘, ‘decent‘ or ‘evil,’

for we no longer know what is ‘human‘-

neither do straight-forward Mancunians.

Yet their gimlet eyes saw glimmers of it

in the selflessness of those who helped them.

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Dead Donkey

23 Thursday Jun 2016

Posted by Candia in Animals, History, Humour, Language, Literature, News, Politics, Satire, Social Comment, Sociology, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Animal Farm, Animalism, Beasts of England, Benjamin, Brexit, dead donkey, etymology, revolution, Snowball and Napoleon, Sugarcandy Mountain, The Windmill

Animal Farm - 1st edition.jpg

I’m with Benjamin on this one, I said, sipping my Macchiato.

Benjamin? Brassica interjected.

Yes, the cynical one.

You surprise me.  Brassie can be ironic sometimes.

Yes, we are all being taken to the knacker’s yard in a battle bus.  No one can

read what it says on the side. Benjamin had a good memory.  Things can

never be much better or much worse.  Hunger, hardship and disappointment

are the unalterable laws of life.

You surely don’t believe that, Candia?  What about the vision of Sugarcandy

Mountain?  We can build our own windmills. The Three Brexiteers

have promised that we will all be better off and the NHS and pensions

will benefit our own old and retired once again.

Hmmm, do you recall that by the fourth year of Animalism and

independence, Animal Farm depended completely on its trade with

the wider world?  Rations were reduced and lighting was cut in the stalls.

There was no such outcome as the three day week and the full

manger.

Yes, Candia, but the animals had a feeling of dignity and held

spontaneous demonstrations to celebrate their own triumphs.

Yeah, and a lot of history was re-written as well.  The animals felt

that they had re-gained what they had before.  As for Snowball and

Napoleon, they were in cahoots with the Enemies and eventually

traded with whichever partner promoted their own selfish,

unprincipled desires.

So, who do you reckon are Snowball and Napoleon?

I leave it entirely to your own judgement, comrade.

So, are you on your way to vote now?  Remember, old Jones was not

so bad, even if he was a Fascist.

Yes, I had better watch out for the low-flying campaigning pigeons.

I don’t want to be crapped on.  Nor do I want to be savaged by a band of

trained puppies.

And I left, humming ‘Beasts of England’ cynically.

Brassie appropriated a couple of sugar cubes for Post-Revolution

sustenance, adjusted her Alice band and went to check  her parking

ticket on the gleaming new dog cart, between whose shafts she

willingly reined herself.

As for moi?

Well, no one has ever seen a dead donkey.  And being interested in

etymology, I remind you that le bon mot: ‘revolution’ has the inbuilt

concept of ending up exactly where you started.

 

 

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Cuphye-House

24 Monday Nov 2014

Posted by Candia in Education, Film, History, Humour, Nature, Social Comment, Suttonford, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

civet, coffee-housing, Country Life magazine, cuphye-house, etymology, Glasgow School of Art, Gorillas in the Mist, Kopi Lowak, Paradoxurus Hermaphroditus, printer's devil, Rwanda, toddy cat

Just leave her alone, Gisela.  You can’t make someone care about

you.  You have your own narrative and your own life to live.  It’s her

loss.

Brassie’s counsel was directed at the rather disconsolate parent of

Juniper Boothroyd-Smythe, who hadn’t contacted her mother once

since swanning off to study at Glasgow’s infamous School of Art.

We were sitting round a table at Costamuchamoulah’s caffeine

establishment.

One day she will wake up and smell the coffee, I ventured.  I

picked up an in-house copy of Country Life magazine and flicked

through its glossy pages.  Listen to this pretentiousness and have

a laugh!

What?

I quote: ‘What sort of coffee are you sipping….?  Does it sparkle on

the palate…or is it darker, earthier, with a suggestion of leaf mould?’

Oh, that’s nothing, sniffed Gisela, already brightening up.  Some

people drink civet…

Ugh!  Kopi Lowak!  grimaced Brassie.  Who wants to imbibe an

infusion of liquid produced from the defecation of the Asian palm

civet?

Asian Palm Civet Over A Tree.jpg

Thousands of connoisseurs, apparently, I informed them.  The

first cuphye-house in Britain was opened in Oxford, for the learned

community, apparently.  The intellegentsia, or so-called, can be most

impressionable, so they are probably guzzling weird concoctions 

in gallons up there, even today.

Let me have a look at it.  Brassie grabbed the article from me, rather

rudely.

I see what you mean by pretentiousness, she remarked after a few

seconds.  Hark at this! It says: a spokesman for coffee brokers says

‘entire countries unknown to the public, such as Rwanda, are coming

on-stream…’ As a member of the public, have you heard of Rwanda,

Gisela?

The latter was rhetorical and ironic.

We all saw ‘Gorillas in the Mist’, she replied.

Precisely.  How dare they assume that the public is geographically

ignorant!  Brassie’s fur was flying.

Gorillas In The Mist poster.jpg

I seem to remember that the Asian civet, Paradoxanus..

Paradoxurus, corrected Brassie.

Hermaphroditus, I flyted.  I know.  I know…was known as a toddy

cat…

Puts one off a hot night-cap, Brassie broke in.  And we all know how

partial she is to her little snifter-and not just for dental or medicinal

purposes.  (She probably only knew the Latin derivation because her

twins were doing a biology project on large mammals.)

Well, I must be off, said Gisela.  I can’t stay around coffee -housing

any longer.  But thanks, guys, for cheering me up.

Coffee-housing? we both queried.

Oh, a hunting term which indicates unnecessary chatter, Gisela

explained.

And somehow we didn’t find this pretentious at all, but rather

informative.  But then we love etymology.

You know, I feel sorry for Gisela, I commented when she had left.

That girl of hers is the limit.  She edits her own version of events and

can be quite manipulative.

She is a little devil, agreed Brassie.

A printer’s devil, I found myself saying.  Wait!  I retrieved my notebook

and pen and started scribbling:

PRINTER’S DEVIL

So, you want to write me out of your life?

(I’ll finish it tonight and you can have it later on this week…)

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And Straightway Loved an Ass

14 Saturday Jun 2014

Posted by Candia in Arts, Education, Humour, Literature, Music, mythology, Philosophy, Politics, Religion, Romance, Social Comment, Sport, Suttonford, Theatre, Writing

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

A Midsummer Night's Dream, Bowdlerise, Brobdingnagian, chaos theory, chipolatas, Egeus, etymology, foie gras, Gender Studies, Hippolyta, hypoglaecemia, Midsomer Murders, Oberon, Recorder Group, Richard Dawkins, rude mechanicalls, rugby prop, sizeism, Starveling, Titania, Worthington

There had been such a fuss about the joint outdoor dramatic performance

to be produced by St Birinus Middle and St Vitus’ School for the Academically-

Gifted Girl, in the ruins of Suttonford Abbey.

Several parents had made complaints about Mr Poskett’s choice of A

Midsummer Night’s Dream.  One misguided harridan had given the Music

Master such a hard time that he commented after the event that it had

been tempting to commit a Midsomer Murder.

Brobdingnagia Worthington’s mother was furious that her daughter, who

should never have been put on any stage, had not been selected for the

role of Titania. Brob, as she was known by her peers, had a ‘hissy fit’

apparently.

Another mother, who was in her final MA year of a Gender Studies degree,

complained that ‘every Jack shall have his Jill‘ was an offensive line.  She

wanted it re-written as : every Jill shall have their Jack, or Jill.

Mrs Whelks threatened to contact the Board of Governors of both

establishments over the perceived bestiality content.  I mean, someone

bonks a donkey!

Drugs- Lysander’s pupils are said to dilate; accusations of sizeism:

inappropriate references to human maypoles and dwarves.  It was

considered potentially injurious to the psyche of St Birinus‘ most solid

rugby prop to be selected for the part of Snout, or ‘Wall’.

Criticisms by those who had lost funds in the Credit Crunch included-so

sorrow’s heaviness doth heavier grow/ For debt that bankrout sleep doth

sorrow owe– this line and expression was deemed politically incorrect,

particularly by those who were now struggling to pay the raised school

fees.

The colour police pounced on Lysander’s reference to a ‘tawny tyrant’ and

would- be nutritionists disliked Demetrius’ admission: like a sickness, did I

loathe this food’, claiming that it might make anorexia and eating disorders

attractive.

Moonshine, they insisted, should be cut as the name Starveling was immoral.

The anti-hunting lobby were outraged by Theseus’ references to his hounds

and those opposed to arranged marriages were disgusted by Egeus.  Titania

and Oberon were supposedly engaged in child slavery and pimping; Helena in

stalking, provoking Demetrius to exclaim: Do not haunt me thus.  Oberon

hacked into other people’s conversations.

So-called sociologists felt that Helena was colluding in domestic violence by

saying: The more you beat me, I will fawn on you.  As for rude mechanicalls,

this term was only protected by Mr Snodbury pointing out the etymological

ignorance of those who did not know that rude referred to their ruddy

complexions and had nothing whatsoever to do with the working class’

sense of decorum, or lack thereof. (He said ‘ruddy’ rather vehemently, so

that the force of his opinion won the day and the argument, as most

cowards tend to retreat in the face of expletive force.

So, pejorative title, or not, the rustic thespians remained in the cast.

Those fixated on disability discrimination thought parts of Act 5 needed

to be removed- namely:

Never mole, harelip, nor scar,

Nor mark prodigious such as are

Despised in nativity,

Shall upon their children be..

A philosopher-father who had read one of Richard Dawkins’ books berated

the underlying mythology and downright superstition of The Fairy Queen’s

idea that the catalyst of the whole train of sorry events was her tawdry

quarrel with her spouse over a little Indian boy. Shakespeare seemed to

be totally unaware of Chaos Theory.  One flap of a fairy’s wing might have

caused global chaos, the Biology teacher responded vigorously.

And so it was a much Bowdlerised version that emerged.  Mr Snodbury,

echoing Hippolyta, pronounced it the silliest stuff that ever I heard.

No one paid much attention to the histrionics anyway.  The parents who

had insisted on the Junior Recorder Group being retained, even though

there was a derogatory comment in the play about inept playing of reed

instruments by juveniles, were proud when the moment came for their

ensemble, conducted by a slightly inebriated Mr Poskett.  However,

everyone else was scrutinising the labels on the contents of the picnic

baskets and calculating the cost of various outfits.

Dru managed a furtive five minute conversation with Nigel in the interval,

during which she arranged their trip to the Borders.

My mother will have an apopleptic fit, sighed Nigel.  She’s already cleared the

kitchen and sugar soaped the skirting boards in preparation for its  re-

decoration.  She depends on me.

But we agreed that you need a holiday, didn’t we? encouraged Dru.

She saw, out of the corner of an experienced eye, two Juniors crossing

wands.

Excuse me, she said.  I’ve got a Health and Safety issue.

Nigel watched her consummate skill in separating the duellists and then

applying an ice cube to an adult’s throbbing digit which had been trapped

in a folding chair.

Nigel watched Mr Poskett receiving parental plaudits and then found himself

being addressed in a hiss by the drama technician.

Can you come to Wardrobe?  We can’t get Bottom’s head off.  Maybe you can help.

Nigel’s confidence was at a low ebb.  What if Dru was to waken to his

inadequacies? What if the wretched boy asphyxiated?  What if Dru woke and

found that straightway she had loved an ass?

He hadn’t even had anything to eat.  Mr Snodbury had wolfed

all the mustard-coated Hippolytas, or was it chipolatas?  Nigel was

beginning to suffer from confusion.  Probably hypoglaecemia. And, no, the

papier mache head was well and truly wedged, in spite of the boy’s neck

being greased by somebody’s foie gras.  They’d have to put on the

understudy and he, Nigel, would have to spend the evening in Casualty.

Typical!

 

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My name is Candia. Its initial consonant alliterates with “cow” and there are connotations with the adjective “candid.” I started writing this blog in the summer of 2012 and focused on satire at the start.

Interspersed was ironic news comment, reviews and poetry.

Over the years I have won some international poetry competitions and have published in reputable small presses, as well as reviewing and reading alongside well- established poets. I wrote under my own name then, but Candia has taken me over as an online persona. Having brought out a serious anthology last year called 'Its Own Place' which features poetry of an epiphanal nature, I was able to take part in an Arts and Spirituality series of lectures in Winchester in 2016.

Lately I have been experimenting with boussekusekeika, sestinas, rhyme royale, villanelles and other forms. I am exploring Japanese themes at the moment, my interest having been re-ignited by the recent re-evaluations of Hokusai.

Thank you to all my committed followers whose loyalty has encouraged me to keep writing. It has been exciting to meet some of you in the flesh- in venues as far flung as Melbourne and Sydney!

Copyright Notice

© Candia Dixon Stuart and Candiacomesclean.wordpress.com, 2012-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Candia Dixon Stuart and candiacomesclean.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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