Lycaste
Lycaste, abbreviated as Lyc in horticultural trade, is a genus of orchids that contains about 30 species with egg-shaped pseudobulbs and thin, plicate (pleated) leaves.
Description
Lycaste flowers, like all orchid blooms, have three petals and three sepals. The petals are typically yellow, white, or orange, and the sepals are yellow, orange, green, or reddish brown. The petals and sepals may be marked sparsely or densely with red, reddish purple, purple, or reddish brown spots. The lip (ventral petal) may be very similar to the other two petals, as in Lycaste aromatica or Lycaste brevispatha, or colored quite distinctively, as in several subspecies and varieties of Lycaste macrophylla. Most Lycaste flowers are medium in size, averaging about 5 to 10 cm, but Lyc. schilleriana is 16-18 cm across. Some Lycaste blooms have a unique fragrance - the scent of Lyc. aromatica has been variously described as cinnamon or clove. The blooms of the species Lyc. cochleata, consobrina, and cruenta also have a pleasant scent.
Lycaste (mythology)
In Greek mythology, the name Lycaste (Λυκάστη) may refer to:
References
Podcasts:
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Lies of Angels
by: LuxtSaints on the rise in the form of thorns,
Sermon on the mount from the fire tongues,
Satan on the lips in the form of god,
Killers in a line of the chosen ones.
The lies of angels comfort me
Still I respect their full intent
The lies of devils I'd expect
This stale inhaling Heaven's scent
Spirits chewing holes in the flesh they wait for,
Time is on the heels of the worried hearts,
Blood within the lungs of the world a whore,
Wet as the impending doom of heaven starts.
The lies of angels comfort me
Still I respect their full intent
The lies of devils I expect
And I think I can afford the rent
The lies of angels comfort me
Still I respect their full intent
The lies of devils I expect
I never said I wouldn't fall, your logic's bent
Hallowed are the names of the knowing few,
Knowing all the while their own deceit,
Stumbling on the shards of the shattered pews,
Licking at the wounds of their unclean feet.
Piercing are the screams of the lost unloved,
Shredding are the claws of the beast in page,
Lying are the hearts of the push and shoved,
Dangerous repression of sexual rage.
By and by the time will tell us all
By and by the time will tell us all to go to hell I want another chance,
But all the tallest tales of heaven
Bend my ears into a shape
so foreign Still I wait just like a child to hear Christ whispering,
"everything is alright."
And I'm here in silence, dark and all I have is doubt
to warm my hollow bones
Can you please tell me what the scent of burning heaven is.
These singed lips taste like death of angels... please.
Let it not be.
The lies of angels comfort me
Still I respect their full intent
The lies of devils I expect
This stale inhaling Heaven's scent
The lies of angels comfort me
Still I respect their full intent
The lies of devils I expect
I never said I wouldn't fall, Your logic's bent
The lies of angels comfort me
Still I respect their full intent
The lies of devils I expect And I think
I can afford the rent
The lies of angels comfort me
Still I respect their full intent
The lies of devils I expect
But bent within my faith I finally see