Friday, April 09, 2010

Friday Randomness--It's All About Satia

Since I will be out of town for this week's Friday Randomness, I figured I would create a post-dated Friday Randomness.  




This is Satia, the hookah pipe.  Seriously.  I didn't make any of these up.


There's even a Nigerian movie called Satia.  What's more, there's a sequel:  Satia II!


This is a powdered drink mix, I think.  For health supplementing something . . . ?  
Sen-Satia-Fruit.  Sounds yummy. 

Funny, I don't look shoe-ish but here you go:  Satia the Shoe.
I come in different colors, by the way, including blue (or is that blue-ish?) and yellow.


And Satia, the silk pajamas.  (I rather like these, truth be told.)

I am also a drawing on deviantart.com by invernizzi.


And a doll/fairy, Satia, advisor to the queen.

Georgian Legend . . . the song is called Satia.  I really should download this.  I mean, really, how many more times will there be a song with my name?  This is the first that I know of.





I also found a model whose name is Satia but I am not going to share her photos.  But wait, I'm also an ISP so there!  How many of you can say that?  And a type of upholstery.  And a synthetic made from cotton?

And if you are going to South Africa, you'll want to look into the South African Tourism Industry Association, or SATIA for short.

Apparently, I was an adventure game but only released in Japan.  *sigh*

I am also an anime character!!!


From Battle Goddess Episode Zero.



And I'm musical.  Hmmm . . . I guess we already knew that from the song.  Oh well.




"Kalki Avatar on White Horse"
"...And at the end of Dark Ages the Kalki Avatar will appear... He will restore the fairness on the Earth... When the Sun, the Moon, the Tishya and the Jupiter will stay together, the Satia - the White Age - will come back." ("The Vishnu Purani").




And here is a poem . . .





IF YOU loved me ever so little,
    I could bear the bonds that gall,
I could dream the bonds were brittle;
    You do not love me at all.
O beautiful lips, O bosom
    More white than the moon’s and warm,
A sterile, a ruinous blossom
    Is blown your way in a storm.

As the lost white feverish limbs
    Of the Lesbian Sappho, adrift
In foam where the sea-weed swims,
    Swam loose for the streams to lift,

My heart swims blind in a sea
    That stuns me; swims to and fro,
And gathers to windward and lee
    Lamentation, and mourning, and woe.

A broken, an emptied boat,
    Sea saps it, winds blow apart,
Sick and adrift and afloat,
    The barren waif of a heart.

Where, when the gods would be cruel,
    Do they go for a torture? where
Plant thorns, set pain like a jewel?
    Ah, not in the flesh, not there!

The racks of earth and the rods
    Are weak as foam on the sands;
In the heart is the prey for gods,
    Who crucify hearts, not hands.

Mere pangs corrode and consume,
    Dead when life dies in the brain;
In the infinite spirit is room
    For the pulse of an infinite pain.

I wish you were dead, my dear;
    I would give you, had I to give,
Some death too bitter to fear;
    It is better to die than live.

I wish you were stricken of thunder
    And burnt with a bright flame through,
Consumed and cloven in sunder,
    I dead at your feet like you.

If I could but know after all,
    I might cease to hunger and ache,
Though your heart were ever so small,
    If it were not a stone or a snake.

You are crueller, you that we love,
    Than hatred, hunger, or death;
You have eyes and breasts like a dove,
    And you kill men’s hearts with a breath.

As plague in a poisonous city
    Insults and exults on her dead,
So you, when pallid for pity
    Comes love, and fawns to be fed.

As a tame beast writhes and wheedles,
    He fawns to be fed with wiles;
You carve him a cross of needles,
    And whet them sharp as your smiles.

He is patient of thorn and whip,
    He is dumb under axe or dart;
You suck with a sleepy red lip
    The wet red wounds in his heart.

You thrill as his pulses dwindle,
    You brighten and warm as he bleeds,
With insatiable eyes that kindle
    And insatiable mouth that feeds.

Your hands nailed love to the tree,
    You stript him, scourged him with rods,
And drowned him deep in the sea
    That hides the dead and their gods.

And for all this, die will he not;
    There is no man sees him but I;
You came and went and forgot;
    I hope he will some day die.







Here is Satia, the pillow.  But wait!


I'm more than just a pillow--I'm an entire bedding set.
I'm on sale, even, so you better buy me now before my style is discontinued.



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1 comment:

  1. I am developing a shoe fetish and I love the "Satia" shoe! I want it! And the bed set.

    ReplyDelete