May 30th, 2006


upcoming events in Kingston upon Hull

The White Room is a rock / alternative pub on Cleveland Street in Kingston upon Hull, past Spiders (when travelling from the town centre).
Eating the Elephant is a regular Goth / alternative night with live bands that takes place on the first Thursday of every month at The White Room, with all proceeds going to charity (Marie Curie Cancer Care).
It runs from 20:00 'til late and costs £3.50 on the door or £3 in advance (or with a NUS card). Residents DJs at Eating the Elephant are Von Suhl and Urban Cannibal.
Eating the Elephant,
The White Room,
Cleveland Street,
Kingston upon Hull

2006-06-01 - Deviant UK and Karn8
netgoth events listing

2006-07-06 - Rhombus
netgoth events listing

2006-08-03 - Devilish Presley
netgoth events listing
Devilish Presley

2006-09-07 - Zeigeist Zero
netgoth events listing
Guest DJ Garybaldi


the second coming

By William Butler Yeats, originally published in Michael Robartes and the Dancer in either 1920 or 1921, depending on where you get your information, and to this day available in various editions. For those who want a heftier tome, there's The Major Works: Including Poems, Plays and Critical Prose and a few books imaginatively entitled The Collected Poems of W.B.Yeats.

About a week ago I posted the lyrics to Fall Apart by Death in June.
Whenever I hear that song I always thing of this poem, specifically the third line. Like Death in Tarot it can be taken in various ways - is representative of an impending apocalypse or merely the end of the current way of things and the birth of a new era?

The Second Coming

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

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