Tag Archives: women

Southern Gothic Ascending

21 Mar

Please enjoy my newest  video preview for “The DarkRose Journal,” Issue 7~ReVamped.

Southern Gothic Ascending: Video Preview…

Southern Gothic Ascending

Julia DarkRose-Girl's Night Out Edit for Video Text

Because sometimes I forget that not everyone understands the world the way I do and quite often, many of those people have no fucking clue about what I am trying to communicate…

SOUTHERN GOTHIC
noun
1.
a literary genre depicting life in the southern US and featuring grotesque themes and imagery
Collins English Dictionary – Complete & Unabridged 2012 Digital Edition
© William Collins Sons & Co. Ltd. 1979, 1986 © HarperCollins
Publishers 1998, 2000, 2003, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2009, 2012

American Psychological Association (APA):
southern gothic. (n.d.). Collins English Dictionary – Complete & Unabridged 10th Edition. Retrieved March 20, 2018 from Dictionary.com website http://www.dictionary.com/browse/southern-gothic

ASCEND
Definition of ‘ascend’
Learner: ascendAmerican: ascend English: ascend Example sentences

ascend
(əsɛnd )
Word forms: ascends, ascending, ascended
1. transitive verb
If you ascend a hill or staircase, you go up it.
2. intransitive verb
If a staircase or path ascends, it leads up to a higher position.
3. intransitive verb
If something ascends, it moves up, usually vertically or into the air.
4. See also ascending
COBUILD Advanced English Dictionary. Copyright © HarperCollins Publishers

MORPHOLOGY
morphology in American
(mɔrˈfɑlədʒi ; môrfälˈəjē)
noun
1.
the branch of biology that deals with the form and structure of animals and plants
2.
a.
the branch of linguistics that deals with word structure and with functional changes in the forms of words, such as inflection and compounding
b.
the study of the structure, classification, and relationships of morphemes
3.
any scientific study of form and structure, as in physical geography
4.
form and structure, as of an organism, regarded as a whole
Webster’s New World College Dictionary, 4th Edition. Copyright © 2010 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. All rights reserved.

TAPROOT
aproot in American
(ˈtæpˌrut ; tapˈro̅otˌ)
noun
a main root, growing almost vertically downward, from which small branch roots spread out
Webster’s New World College Dictionary, 4th Edition. Copyright © 2010 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. All rights reserved.

THRESHOLD
threshold
Pronunciation /ˈθrɛʃˌhəʊld//ˈθrɛʃəʊld/
NOUN
1A strip of wood or stone forming the bottom of a doorway and crossed in entering a house or room.

‘he stood on the threshold of Sheila’s bedroom’
More example sentencesSynonyms
1.1in singular A point of entry or beginning.
‘she was on the threshold of a dazzling career’
More example sentencesSynonyms
1.2 The beginning of an airport runway on which an aircraft is attempting to land.
Example sentences
2The magnitude or intensity that must be exceeded for a certain reaction, phenomenon, result, or condition to occur or be manifested.

‘nothing happens until the signal passes the threshold’
as modifier ‘a threshold level’
© 2018 Oxford University Press

OLD-WORLD
Definition of ‘Old World’
Learner: old worldAmerican: Old World1American: Old World2American: old-worldEnglish: Old WorldEnglish: old-worldExample sentencesTrends
Word Frequency
old world
also Old World also old-world
adjective [ADJ n]
Old world is used to describe places and things that are or seem to be from an earlier period of history, and that look interesting or attractive.
The newcomers to the Village were attracted by its winding streets and Old World charm.
COBUILD Advanced English Dictionary. Copyright © HarperCollins Publishers

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Stardusted

15 Apr

When all is done, much of human life is, at the greatest and the best, but like a froward child, that must be played with and humored a little to keep it quiet till it falls asleep, and then the care is over.

Why waste a perfectly miraculous and beautiful thing, your life?

One of the perks of being me, a real living Dark Angel…wasting my life, not living my life the most passionately and the fullest that I can, is not a part of who/what nature hath made me!

Whatever your path in life is, whatever you do, try to understand how miraculous life is. I speak as someone who has (from those looking at it from the outside) an unimaginable life of pure horror. I do know what the worst life has to offer actually consists of…Yet I know with all of my being, that life is a miraculous and beautiful thing. Don’t waste it on nonsense!

Stardusted

Lower than the grave
my darklight began,
into the starry heavens
soon I ran:
Here between earth
and space I shine,
my fallen dust
the twin to thine…
Star that I was,
star that I am,
star I shall ever be,
my name is woman.

While you see me across the sky
to wake and live and burn and die,
all in a crimson flash,
eternity watches me fall.
My trail of fire, no fire of the sun’s,
my star, a silver mirror,
a sphere, clear as glass,
my veiled face, a bright cloud,
more radiant for it’s obscurity,
my mystery, whose shadow
stands proud beneath the light,
my world, whose lands remain
unknown to most,
while I shinest most evident of all
beyond this world:

I reveal to you now
all that is obscure and hidden under day’s illusion;
I reveal to you the nature of all that you see,
set so far from earthly lands,
above earthly sight;
I appear to you now
in this crystal of fleshly stardust…

If you will have Antares,
scarlet sting of Scorpius,
or count for wealth, Capella,
gold-fleeced goat,
or Rigel, fire of sapphire,
pivot to Orions pace,
or Sirius his dog,
as white as snow,
yet flashing every color,
then come and find the darklight
you seek.
Mirrored in the red water,
break the wet glass,
pluck out my star
by my radiant tresses…

But do not dare
to look upon my stardusted face,
do not dare to know truth,
lest you go blind;
Bear me only in your mind.

A shuddering star,
I shiver and burst
on the moons white horn,
on this flashing sphere,
this globe of rainbows…
streaming air,
turbid world,
trembling planet,
great as what’s inside your head,
but thin as a thread
that wind can tear
from your precious life’s web,
do not despair…
Let this be said:

Out of the sun
you are ever born,
follow it not, that blinding orb,
with anxious eye…
With my words of midnight silk
and actions of dark love,
I will hold it together,
your web of life,
though what we have created,
may fall,
in tears,
like meteors,
from the sky.

I am the darklight…

I am borne from stardust…
Like falling glitter from the eye of the universe,
down, down, down,
onto this Earth.

I am woman,
the beloved daughter of our Mother,
the darkest light of all.

~Julia DarkRose
©2013

Stardusted

26 Oct

Property of DarkRose Productions
Copyright 2012
By Julia DarkRose Ray

Image
*This prose is written cryptically. Do your best to decipher its meaning, if you so desire. Writing in “code” is one of my favorite techniques. If it is annoying to some, then just don’t read it. But come on, a slight challenge for your noggin is always a good thing.

Stardusted

Lower than the grave
my darklight began,
into the starry heavens
soon I ran:
Here between earth
and space I shine,
my fallen dust
the twin to thine…
Star that I was,
star that I am,
star I shall ever be,
my name is woman.

While you see me across the sky
to wake and live and burn and die,
all in a crimson flash,
eternity watches me fall.
My trail of fire, no fire of the sun’s,
my star, a silver mirror,
a sphere, clear as glass,
my veiled face, a bright cloud,
more radiant for it’s obscurity,
my mystery, whose shadow
stands proud beneath the light,
my world, whose lands remain
unknown to most,
while I shinest most evident of all
beyond this world:

I reveal to you now
all that is obscure and hidden under day’s illusion;
I reveal to you the nature of all that you see,
set so far from earthly lands,
above earthly sight;
I appear to you now
in this crystal of fleshly stardust…

If you will have Antares,
scarlet sting of Scorpius,
or count for wealth, Capella,
gold-fleeced goat,
or Rigel, fire of sapphire,
pivot to Orion’s pace,
or Sirius his dog,
as white as snow,
yet flashing every color,
then come and find the darklight
you seek.
Mirrored in the red water,
break the wet glass,
pluck out my star
by my radiant tresses…

But do not dare
to look upon my stardusted face,
do not dare to know truth,
lest you go blind;
Bear me only in your mind.

A shuddering star,
I shiver and burst
on the moons white horn,
on this flashing sphere,
this globe of rainbows…
streaming air,
turbid world,
trembling planet,
great as what’s inside your head,
but thin as a thread
that wind can tear
from your precious life’s web,
do not despair…
Let this be said:

Out of the sun
you are ever born,
follow it not, that blinding orb,
with anxious eye…
With my words of midnight silk
and actions of dark love,
I will hold it together,
your web of life,
though what we have created,
may fall,
in tears,
like meteors,
from the sky.

I am the darklight…

I am borne from stardust…
Like falling glitter from the eye of the universe,
down, down, down,
unto this Earth.

I am woman,
the darkest light of all.

~Julia DarkRose Ray

Stardusted

18 Apr
Property of The DarkRose Journal, 2013
by DarkRose, 2012

*This prose is written cryptically. Do your best to decipher its meaning, if you so desire. Writing in “code” is one of my favorite techniques. If it is annoying to some, then just don’t read it. But come on, a slight challenge for your noggin is always a good thing.

Stardusted
Stardusted

Lower than the grave
my darklight began,
into the starry heavens
soon I ran:
Here between earth
and space I shine,
my fallen dust
the twin to thine…
Star that I was,
star that I am,
star I shall ever be,
my name is woman.

While you see me across the sky
to wake and live and burn and die,
all in a sanguine flash,
eternity watches me fall.
My trail of fire, no fire of the sun’s,
my star, a silver mirror,
a sphere, clear as glass,
my veiled face, a bright cloud,
more radiant for it’s obscurity,
my mystery, whose shadow
stands proud beneath the light,
my world, whose lands remain
unknown to most,
while I shinest most evident of all
beyond this world:

I reveal to you now
all that is obscure and hidden under day’s illusion;
I reveal to you the nature of all that you see,
set so far from earthly lands,
above earthly sight;
I appear to you now
in this crystal of fleshly stardust…

If you will have Antares,
scarlet sting of Scorpius,
or count for wealth, Capella,
gold-fleeced goat,
or Rigel, fire of sapphire,
pivot to Orions pace,
or Sirius his dog,
as white as snow,
yet flashing every color,
then come and find the darklight
you seek.
Mirrored in the red water,
break the wet glass,
pluck out my star
by my radiant hair…

But do not dare
to look upon my stardusted face,
do not dare to know truth,
lest you go blind;
Bear me only in your mind.

A shuddering star,
I shiver and burst
on the moons white horn,
on this flashing sphere,
this globe of rainbows…
streaming air,
turbid world,
trembling planet,
great as what’s inside your head,
but thin as a thread
that wind can tear
from your precious life’s web,
do not despair…
Let this be said:

Out of the sun
we are ever born,
follow it not, that blinding orb,
with anxious eye…
With my words of midnight silk
and actions of dark love,
I will hold it together,
your web of life,
though what we have created,
may fall,
in tears,
like meteors,
from the sky.

I am the darklight…

I am borne from stardust…
Like falling glitter from the eye of the universe,
down, down, down,
unto this Earth.

I am woman,
the darkest light of all.

~DarkRose

Love Me Not (Just Fuck Me, Please)

26 Mar

Love Me Not
(Just Fuck Me, Please!)
3f2aa-bite_black_and_white_sex_b_w_couple_erotic_
Tell me no more of minds embracing minds,
and hearts exchanged for hearts;
Tell me no more of dark spirits meeting and becoming one dark soul.
Tell me no more of our unbodied essences sharing the dark bloody kiss,
and then like fallen angels, twist and become one in our despair and oh, so very misunderstood, dark Bliss.

I was that silly thing that once wrought
to practise this this esoteric love;
I climb’d from gothic sex to gothic soul, from somber soul to thought;
But thinking there to move,
headlong I rolled from thought to soul, and then
from soul I lighted at the bloody sex again.

As some strict down-looked women pretend to fast, who yet in closets eat;
So lovers who profess they spirits taste,
Feed yet on grosser meat;
I know they boast their souls to souls convey,
however they meet, the body is the way.

Come, I will undeceive thee. They that tread
those vain aerial ways,
are like young heirs and alchemists misled
to waste their wealth and days,
for searching thus to be ever rich,
they only find a medicine for the itch.

Oh, love me not,
just fuck me…please!

~DarkRose

I Am The DarkRose Journal

5 Mar

Julia and Angel

Re-posted from The DarkRose Journal Page on FB…

I’m not entirely sure why I feel the need to make this post, but I feel that I need to clarify a few things about myself and The DarkRose Journal. So, for those of you that actually know me intimately, sorry for informing you of what you probably already know.

I believe that most people underestimate me, on all levels. Which truly doesn’t matter, to me. Still, for those people in my life that do matter on a friendship and/or family level, as well as those who resonate with The DarkRose Journal and find something they need/desire within her electronic pages (I really miss the hard copy version ), I would like to make clear that I am not just a blood drinker with a big mouth and some wordsmithing skills.

The DarkRose Journal is the culmination of my life, a lifetime of fighting against racial prejudice, religious oppression, domestic abuse, child prostitution, child sexual molestation/rape, white slavery, being kidnapped and sexually tortured, hatred from Christians and real life Vampire hunters, hatred from my own community (which I was essential in helping create), homelessness (with and without my children), being completely alone in a world that does not accept who you are (including your family and adult children) and turns their backs on you, kidnapping by crazy people who raped me over and over again, so I can be the new mother of the vampire race (um, yeah completely nuts!), working with runaway girls, helping women/girls escape their dangerous and inhumane situations, as well as, fighting against alternative lifestyle prejudice and for the right to be who I am (as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone-unless they want to be hurt 😉 ) and so much more…

All the above mentioned things were/are a part of my life. They are the events that have made me the person that you know today. I have been fighting these fights since I was 6 years old. At 12 years old, I took a stand, left home due to several of these events taking place in my life, lived on the street as a child prostitute. From there my story gets worse and for most people, to hard to hear.

My point being, The DarkRose Journal exists not only for blood drinker, living vampires and alternative lifestyles, but for all of the things that I experienced in life and have been fighting against my entire existence.

I have spent my entire life fighting, being a true warrior. Now, I would like to let my magazine do some of my fighting for me. I believe what I fight for, what I have always fought for, is very important. I am asking for everyone’s continued support in bringing the DarkRose Journal to the public, helping to spread her messages.

Please don’t give up on me, for I will never forsake you.

Thank you.

~DarkRose

Most Foul, She Was

7 Jan

Property of The DarkRose Journal, 2012
Copyright 2012, By DarkRose

I decided to give everyone a much deserved break from my relentless philosophical, inspirational, and erotica (really, does anyone want a break from erotica?) prose.

***************

Victorian Foul Erotica

Most Foul, She Was

Either she was foul, or her garb was bad,
Or she was not the lass I wished T’have had.
Idly I lay with her, as if i loved not,
and like a burden, grieved the bed that moved not.
Yet though both of us performed our true intent,
Yet could I not cast anchor where I meant.
She on my neck her ivory arms did throw,
Her arms far whiter than the Scythian snow.
And desirously she kissed me with her tongue,
And under mine her wanton thigh she flung.
Yea, and she soothed me up and called me sire,
And used all speech that might provoke and stir my desires.
Yet, like as if cold hemlock I had drunk,
It mocked me, hung down the head, and sunk.
Like a dull cipher or rude block I lay,
Or shadow or body was I, who can say?
What will my age do, age I cannot shun,
When in my prime my force is spent and done?
I blush that being youthful,
hot and lusty,
I prove neither youth, nor man, but old and rusty.

Pure rose she, like a nun to sacrifice,
Or one that with her tender brother lies.
Yet boarded I the golden chi twice,
And libas, and the white-cheeked pith thrice.
She craved it in a summer’s night,
And nine sweet bouts we had before daylight.

What, waste my limbs through some voodoo charms?
May spells and drugs do silly souls such harms?
With virgin wax hath some imbaste my joints,
And pierced my liver with sharp needles’ points?
By charms mast crops from oaks, from vines grapes fall,
And fruit from trees when there’s no wind at all.
Why might not then my sinews be enchanted,
And I grow faint, as with some spirit haunted?
To this add shame: shame to perform it quailed me
And was the second cause why vigour failed me.
My idle thoughts delighted her no more
Than did the robe or garment which she wore.

Yet, might her touch make youthful my fire
And me livelier than my years require.
Even her I had, and she had me in vain;
What might I crave more if I asked again?
To kiss. I kiss. To lie with her, she let me.
Why was I blessed? Why made Majesty to refuse it?
Chuff-like had I not gold and could not use it?
So in a spring thrives he that told so much,
And looks upon the fruits he cannot touch.
Hath any rose so from a fresh young maid,
As she might straight have gone to church and prayed?
Well I believe she kissed not as she should,
Nor used the sleight and cunning which she could.
Huge oaks, hard adamants might she had moved,
And with sweet words cause deaf rocks to have loved.
Worthy she was to move both gods and men,
But neither was I man, nor lived then.
Can deaf ear take delight when she sings?
What sweet thought is there but I had the same?
And one gave still an another came.
Yet, nonwithstanding, like one dead it lay,
Drooping more than a rose pulled yesterday.

Nay more, the lass did not disdain a whit
To take it in her hand and play with it.
But when she saw it would by no means stand,
But still drooped down, regarding not her hand,
‘Why mockst thou me?’ she cried. ‘Or, being ill,
Who bade thee lie down here against thy will?
Either thou art witch, with blood of frogs new dead,
Or jaded camest thou from some other bed.’

With that, her loose gown on, from me she cast her-
In skipping out her naked feet much graced her.
And, lest her maid should know of this disgrace,
To cover it, Spilt lye and water on the place.

~DarkRose

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