A Joy Forever

  1. Featuring Alysha Nett
    alyshanett.com
    alysha.tumblr.com

    Music
    "Mumbai" by oOoOO
    soundcloud.com/ooooosounds

    Directed / Shot / Edited
    Kevin Wildt
    kevinwildt.com

    # vimeo.com/39998364 Uploaded 118K Plays / / 10 Comments Watch in Couch Mode
  2. Model: Janey
    Video: Simon Bolz, simonbolz.com

    Music:
    Joy - Dulceria (Joy Remix)
    soundcloud.com/joy-1/joy-dulceria-joy-remix

    This is a trailer clip to the photo series "Marshmallow Hugs" featuring the amazing awesomeness of Janey.
    View the images here: simonbolz.com

    # vimeo.com/39876799 Uploaded 216K Plays / / 9 Comments Watch in Couch Mode
  3. Miss Crash (Uncut) by Wolf189
    wolf189.tumblr.com/
    wolf189.com

    16+ minutes of long, zen-like, slow moving erotic moments with Miss Crash
    I'll be making a much shorter version at one point.

    Wolf189's video channel: vimeo.com/channels/wolf189

    # vimeo.com/39827577 Uploaded 208K Plays / / 0 Comments Watch in Couch Mode
  4. Experimental short film in the pseudo-style of Kubrick.
    From Project EROSion - Volume One.
    projecterosion.com

    # vimeo.com/39742533 Uploaded 235K Plays / / 34 Comments Watch in Couch Mode
  5. Photographer: Frank Ockenfels
    Model: May Lindstrom

    Cinematographer: Jim Dziura
    Editor: Michael R. Duffy

    # vimeo.com/39684502 Uploaded 1,283 Plays / / 1 Comment Watch in Couch Mode

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A Joy Forever

Thomas Hope

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A


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A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

Nor do we merely feel these essences
For one short hour; no, even as the trees
That whisper round a temple become soon
Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon,
The passion poesy, glories infinite,
Haunt us till they become a cheering light
Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast
That, whether there be shine or gloom o'ercast,
They always must be with us, or we die.

Therefore, 'tis with full happiness that I
Will trace the story of Endymion.
The very music of the name has gone
Into my being, and each pleasant scene
Is growing fresh before me as the green
Of our own valleys: so I will begin
Now while I cannot hear the city's din;
Now while the early budders are just new,
And run in mazes of the youngest hue
About old forests; while the willow trails
Its delicate amber; and the dairy pails
Bring home increase of milk. And, as the year
Grows lush in juicy stalks, I'll smoothly steer
My little boat, for many quiet hours,
With streams that deepen freshly into bowers.
Many and many a verse I hope to write,
Before the daisies, vermeil rimmed and white,
Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees
Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas,
I must be near the middle of my story.
O may no wintry season, bare and hoary,
See it half finished: but let Autumn bold,
With universal tinge of sober gold,
Be all about me when I make an end!
And now at once, adventuresome, I send
My herald thought into a wilderness:
There let its trumpet blow, and quickly dress
My uncertain path with green, that I may speed
Easily onward, thorough flowers and weed.

John Keats

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