We took a closer look at the origins of Russia’s second largest religion

 

24 August

We took a closer look at the origins of Russia’s second largest religion Before converting to Christianity, Prince Vladimir Svyatoslavovich of Kiev considered the possibility of adopting Islam as the state religion of Russia. However, there was one critical point that stopped him. Read this week’s feature history report to find out and learn more about how Christians and Muslims have lived side by side for nearly 14 centuries. To recreate Peter the Great’s wishes of creating a “European city” in the style of Venice, many channels had to be dug and drawn out of the Neva River, creating dozens of little “islands”. St. Petersburg, at one point, had as many as 101. Find out all about the remaining ones and how they compliment Russia’s ‘Northern Capital’ in our newest travel article.  Many countries have over centuries adopted a tricolor flag with a particular set of colors. Russia’s national flag is also one of those. But what do the colors stand for and does their positioning have any significance? Read our latest history report to find out this and other interesting facts about the Russian flag.

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Hand solo

 

Lolita poems

 🍒

Sophia H   Follow

11 months ago

Sixteen Going On Seventeen

I wipe my cherry stained lips
and glance up, unwittingly meeting your gaze,
captivated by the innocence of my elusivity.
I wonder to myself, do I make you feel
how you felt when you were sixteen?
Though, the stumbling dance of your voice
tells me all I need to know.

It is in the way my nimble fingers
paint their tips a Lolita red,
and messily decorate my wide eyes
that I coquettishly bat at the senior guys.
How I twirl my hair and pout my lips,
ever so kittenish as I whisper in the ear of a friend
with a crooked grin and a stifled giggle.

I pull away as desperation washes over me,
a sudden realization that in one year’s time
those enigmatic senior boys I fancy,
known only by wrinkled pages adorned with pink cursive,
will be long gone.
For it will be me walking the halls
with seniority in my step,
to the beat of time’s ceaseless march.
And I wonder what would be of life if not lived
through the heart shaped sunglasses of a little girl?

From where this funny feeling came, I couldn’t say.
It’s simply the way I find calm
in this feminine facade.
My hairless legs crossed as I pretend
to not notice their eyes, gawking at the way I sit,
a cigarette in my dainty hand and Kafka on my lap,
listening to cars pass me by, harmonizing with
voices and whistles of which I pay no mind.

I’ll get lost in introspection
and try reversing time, to treasure
my naivety and freeze it in this rhyme.
It’s an indescribable romance,
like the fire in your loins,
the way I adore this feeling so fondly.
I find myself high on the thrill
of being just sixteen,
going on seventeen,
as I clutch to the virtue of my slipping youth.

First time posting my poetry anywhere! I'm sixteen and this is about the greatest fear that plagues my mind, becoming an adult. I adore being a teenage girl and doing teenage girl things, it's the loveliest thing in the world. © 11 months ago   lolita • teen • love • school • feminine • feminism   

 Like (2)  2  

aspiringpoetv   Follow

a year ago

She

Some believe Lolita was a muse
Mostly because She was depicted as having a choice in the matter
We all knew She was suffering from abuse
So why was there a surprise element at the end of her chapter?

Maybe it was because personalities like her are never believed
How could someone so seductive be so clueless to her actions?
But women like her are always perceived
To like the reactions to their interactions

Men have never understood the concept of an independent woman
A woman that does not need anyone but herself
A woman that sees herself as a competent human
And not as a piece of meat meant to gratify himself

I once saw Lolita as an inspiration
A beautiful girl sought by a man who could give her everything She wanted
Then I grew up and realized She was nothing but a figment of his imagination
A twisted, sick mind in which She was concocted

He described her as his nymphet
His favorite little girl who he could use without guilt
His absence of sin alerted me that there was a limit
But men don’t understand limits until everything is spilled

I was groomed when I was a child, maybe twelve or thirteen
He didn’t care that I was well under eighteen
Only that I didn’t tell anyone and He could see me on his screen
I was so happy that someone finally noticed me, not realizing I was only a tween

I will never forget the interactions I shared with him and the many that came after
I blamed myself for believing they cared about me
I told my friends and we all burst into a bout of laughter
At that moment I knew who would make my life insufferable, He

© a year ago   lolita • pain • rhyme • child • women   

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 Like (5)  4  

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poisonedKisses   Follow

5 years ago

play with me

in a dusty room, where no-one goes,
the closets locked and the windows closed,
a doll sits quietly with porcelain skin,
her hair, silky brown and her soft lips thin.
cracks stretch across the ancient ceiling,
the aura around her gives you an eerie feeling.

her dress, a lace Victorian ivory,
her shoes made from silk, her ribbons ebony
dorned in her hair, her bangs, an ornate style,
her lips curve up into an eerie smile,
her lashes long, her eyelids closed,
she opens them suddenly, crimson eyes exposed.

she tilts her head innocently to the side,
her lips open slowly, the smile now wide,
her voice was soft but sounded quite haunting
this now seems pretty daunting.
"no one walks within this room" shed giggle as she'd say
"you seem like fun, do you want to play?"

a rough draft of a halloween poem i'd been working on.. may be a little late to put it on but ah well  © 5 years ago, cli furlong   halloween • doll • lolita • horror • fantasy   

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Tina Papados   Follow

8 years ago

Moulin Rouge

Mountains of a million men
A velocity of cinematic lights
giving birth to flames; like rising dragons
transforming into women, into art.

Fires, feathers and golden snakes
caved bodies of femme fatales
hell's transgressive angels
fulfil fantasies of married men.

Crowds, celebrating with beer and cigars
chanting in French, desiring sweet flesh.
No woman resembled his fatal lover,
Lady Moulin Rouge.

In crowds of lust, danger gleamed upon
that young, seductive touch
of a female, lost within
mountains of a million men.

The nymphet of his desire
Soft and stark naked
holding a cigar; inhaling
the sweet betrayal of suicide.

A child, ten years of age
with the haunting resemblance
of Lady Rouge; forbidden knowledge
HE lost his daughter.

© 8 years ago   love • lust • moulin-rouge • beer • alcohol • men • forbidden-knowledge • nymphat • lolita • child • desire • life • smoking • haunting • horror • man • mistake • lover • suicide • fatal • transgressive • femme-fatale • overpowering • dragon • fire • feathers • snake • spiritual • d   

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Kairos   Follow

8 years ago

Waiting on Nightfall

You come to me in dreams
and every second I'm sleeping,
the tiny part of me that is barely conscious
is begging to stay asleep;
because the way you hold me and whisper
my name in dreams is something
nothing I'm awake for could ever
make me feel.
It makes me sad that I can only dream
of your touch; because waking up to you
would surely be a dream in itself.
I want to roll over at two in the morning
and lay my head on your chest;
feeling it rise and fall as we breathe
in sweet synchronicity.
What I'd give to come home to you,
your tie loosened and your top buttons
undone, that familiar worn and tired
expression hanging like a painting on your face
after a long day.
What I'd give to repaint it with gentle kisses
and tender words.
Let me undo the rest of your buttons and pull
you back into warmth;
into me.
You are at the heart of my deepest
desires- these feelings whose
existence I can barely admit to myself.
If there ever comes a night
when my dreams no longer grant
my waking wishes;
I'll stay awake forever,
because anything short of your dreamy
touch would only be a nightmare.

© 8 years ago   lolita • sex • love • dark • older-men • 1   

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Tatoo

 

Monster

 

Monster tatoo

 

Fracture Ellen Bass

 

Fracture

Ellen Bass

When the grizzly cubs were caught, collared, and taken away— relocated they call it— their mother ran back and forth on the road screaming. Brutal sound. Torn from her lungs. Her heart, twisted knot, hot blood rivering to the twenty-six pounding bones of her feet. Just weeks before I watched a bear and her cubs run down a mountain in the twilight. So buoyant, they seemed to be tumbling to the meadow, to the yarrow root they dug, rocking to wrest it from the hard ground, fattening for winter. They were breathing what looked like gladness. But that other mother . . . Her massive head raised, desperate to catch their scent. Each footfall a fracture in the earth’s crust.

.You can't just do something

 ..... You can't just do something just because you want to do it. You can't just get out of bed and decide you want to do something! First, think of people who may disagree with what you want! What about them? Do they not deserve the right? Will their rights be removed if you do so? Ask yourself about it long and hard!

🌈Dysphoria [Original Song ft. GUMI Eng]

 🌈once again, with a sorrowful gaze

eyes look back, peering deep into a broken heart watching as i tear away the things that seem to, every day, just leave me up in pieces being torn apart looking down i see every part of me feels like breaking after every single day most importantly something inside me keeps on aching knowing that i'll never be the same as them i'll make a wish try to change what makes me who i am and give up on what bothers me i might as well not even try keep on hoping, so you'll see there's nothing here but misery you'll find that this is what i've come to be face the facts i can't change them even if i try not meant to live life as a boy so why must i be born this way? try again, day after day to fix what causes my dismay but give up knowing that i really might as well just die once again, with every passing day things get worse, like my body's being torn apart cry some more and waste away it's not like i care anyway what use is there in trying when it's plain as day looking down i see every part of me feels like breaking into tiny little shards most importantly something inside me knows it's pointless living if i'll never be like them so one more time try to change what makes me who i am and give up on what bothers me i might as well not even try keep on hoping, so you'll see there's nothing here but misery you'll find that this is what i've come to be face the facts i can't change them even if i try i can't live my life as a boy so what if i was born this way? try again, day after day to fix what causes my dismay but give up knowing that i really might as well just try again deep inside i know just who i am it doesn't matter what they say so what if i was born this way? keep on hoping, so you'll see i might just change who i can be and live my life as the girl that i know i am and though you see, every part of me feels like breaking after every single day most importantly my heart keeps beating i'll do anything it takes if i can be like all the rest

What tracts seem like to non Christians

 I hate you! I pity you. That's the same thing, because I said so! You're stupid! You're evil! I hate you. You don't worship me or my Sky Daddy, so forget you, and if you are offended, then thank you! My Sky Dad is important! So, stop having a culture! Worship me, and hate yourself, because of course!