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incandescensTitle: who is the smiling stranger
Requester: avalonjones
Requested Topic: Kujaku
Series: RG Veda
Due to http://incandescens.livejournal.com/398869.html
Kujaku has splendid eyes; Ashura thinks them very pretty. They dance with mischief, sparkle like the wheeling stars above, and are so very knowing, so very understanding . . . Not like Yasha, of course. Yasha is special. But Yasha might sometimes be upset by things.
Kujaku would share the joke, whatever it was. Kujaku is the mad uncle who comes in at the turn of the year with unexpected presents, the older brother who has some exciting adventure to get involved in . . .
Sometimes Kujaku's breath smells of raw meat. Ashura is too dazzled to ask why.
Requester: avalonjones
Requested Topic: Kujaku
Series: RG Veda
Due to http://incandescens.livejournal.com/398869.html
Kujaku has splendid eyes; Ashura thinks them very pretty. They dance with mischief, sparkle like the wheeling stars above, and are so very knowing, so very understanding . . . Not like Yasha, of course. Yasha is special. But Yasha might sometimes be upset by things.
Kujaku would share the joke, whatever it was. Kujaku is the mad uncle who comes in at the turn of the year with unexpected presents, the older brother who has some exciting adventure to get involved in . . .
Sometimes Kujaku's breath smells of raw meat. Ashura is too dazzled to ask why.
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no subject
Date: 2006-04-11 10:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-11 10:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 12:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 12:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 10:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 11:44 pm (UTC)Innocent's Song
Who's that knocking on the window,
Who's that standing at the door,
What are all those presents
Laying on the kitchen floor?
Who is the smiling stranger
With hair as white as gin,
What is he doing with the children
And who could have let him in?
Why has he rubies on his fingers,
A cold, cold crown on his head,
Why, when he caws his carol,
Does the salty snow run red?
Why does he ferry my fireside
As a spider on a thread,
His fingers made of fuses
And his tongue of gingerbread?
Why does the world before him
Melt in a million suns,
Why do his yellow, yearning eyes
Burn like saffron buns?
Watch where he comes walking
Out of the Christmas flame,
Dancing, double-talking:
Herod is his name.
-- Charles Causley
no subject
Date: 2006-04-13 11:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-13 04:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 12:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 12:42 am (UTC)