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judy smith Feb 2017
In this age of global uncertainty, clothes have become a kind of panacea for a growing number of consumers. Designers are responding to the political upheavals of the past year by injecting some much-needed humour into women’s wardrobes. Browns CEO Holli Rogers is already predicting that spring’s sartorial hit will be Rosie Assoulin’s smiley-face T-shirt. This cheery number, which reads "Thank you! Have a Nice Day!’" neatly sums up the jubilant mood of the coming season.

The logic goes that turning up the dial on the fun, the colourful and the crazy is the sartorial equivalent of Michelle Obama’s "when they go low, we go high" mantra. We may not be able to control the chaos of world events, but we still rule our own style.

It’s no coincidence that a cartoonish aesthetic, of the sort you’d find if you rifled through an eccentric child’s dressing-up box, was in plentiful supply on the spring/summer 2017 runways. Alessandro Michele’s army of Gucci geeks displayed growing swagger in garish get-ups that ran from fuzzy crayon-coloured furs featuring zebras to tiered, tinsel-y coats that rivalled Grandma’s Christmas tree.

It was a similar story at Dolce & Gabbana, where sumptuous eveningwear was loaded with pasta and pizza motifs, and drums became bags, while Marc Jacobs tore a page from a psychedelic colouring book, covering clothes with the childlike scrawl of the London illustrator Julie Verhoeven. Even ardent minimalists would have to admit that these playful looks have potent pick-me-up power.

For Anya Hindmarch – whose empire is built on feel-good fashion – all this frivolity is nothing new. "An ironic, lighter and more irreverent approach has always been my thing. People love beautiful objects and increasingly, they want to show their character – that’s the point of fashion," she says. "Customers today are more confident with their style. There aren’t so many rules. It’s about putting a sticker on a beautiful handbag and not being too precious about it."

What’s surprising is who is consuming this cartoonish style. Though there’s no real rhyme or reason, says Hindmarch, often it’s older clients who are investing in the maddest pieces – like her cuddly, googly-eyed Ghost backpack that has also been spotted on Gigi Hadid and Kendall Jenner.

The same is true of the customer for the Lebanese designer Mira Mikati’s emoji-embellished styles. Though her fans run from twenty to fiftysomethings, at a recent London pop-up one of Mikati’s most ardent buyers was an 87-year-old. "She tells me that whenever she wears my clothes people stop her on the street. They smile. They start conversations. She literally makes friends through what she wears."

Mikati began her career as a buyer, co-founding the upscale Beirut boutique Plum, before launching her own line some four seasons ago – largely out of frustration at the sameness of the mainstream collections. "I wanted to create something fun and colourful but easy to wear – that you can add to jeans and a white T-shirt, but that’s also a conversation point."

Her clothes, worn by Beyoncé and Rihanna, are certainly that: pink parrot-appliquéd trench coats, scribble-print hooded tops and dresses clad with a family of monsters who spell out her Peter Pan ethos in scrawled speech bubbles that read "Never Grow Up’" The antithesis of normcore, these designs take their cue from her children’s toy trunk and the Japanese pop art of Takashi Murakami – who returned the compliment by donning one of her patched bombers.

Mikati is clearly onto something. According to Roberta Benteler, who founded online fashion emporium Avenue 32 in 2011, it’s the cartoon aesthetic that’s really piquing women’s desire right now.

"Anything that looks like a child’s drawing or a toy sells incredibly well," she says. "Brands like Mira Mikati, Vivetta and Les Petits Joueurs inspire the impulse to buy because they’re so eye-catching. You have to have it now because there’s a sense you won’t find it anywhere else."

The exponential rise of street-style stars and the social-media machine that now propels the fashion industry also plays a part in the popularity of these playful looks.

"Designers are creating for the online world and customer," continues Benteler, who cites the Middle Eastern consumer as a big investor in these niche eccentric designs. "People find escapism in fashion and more than ever they need something to cheer them up. These are clothes that stand out on Instagram, and for designers that translates into sales."

In practical terms, in an effort to beat the warp speed of high-street copying, designers are differentiating themselves with increasingly intricate and artisanal styles that are harder to mimic. Just because these pieces have a childlike sensibility doesn’t mean they’re not beautifully crafted.

"My aim is create a handbag that you can keep as a design piece," explains the accessories designer Paula Cademartori. One of her most successful designs – the Petite Faye bag, which comes in a whole rainbow of configurations – takes more than 32 hours to create at her Italian studio. "Even if the styles are colourful and speak loudly, they’re still sophisticated," says Cademartori, whose brand was recently snapped up by the luxury goods group OTB. It can pay to be playful.

One man with a unique insight into the feel-good phenomenon is Marco de Vincenzo, who combines his longstanding role as leather goods head designer at Fendi with creating his own collection. "When we first created the Fendi monster accessories for bags we were simply playing around," he says of the charms that still loom large some three years on. "The most successful designs are created without pressure, through play."

His own-line debut bag features an animalistic paw. ‘It’s about creating something new and different for women to discover,’ he explains. "You buy something because you love it, not because you need it. Fashion is like a game – it has to excite."

When it comes to distilling this childlike abandon into your wardrobe, take cues from super style blogger Leandra Medine, who balances madcap pieces, such as her first collection of colourful footwear under her MR By Man Repeller label, with plainer, simpler ones. "It’s all about wearing your clothes with joy, and having fun, but not looking ridiculous," says Cademartori. "You don’t want to look like an actual cartoon."

It’s advice that chimes with that of Anya Hindmarch. "I love the idea of wearing a super-simple Comme des Garçons jacket and a white shirt with a really fun bag to mess it all up a bit." It’s a failsafe formula for dressing your way to happiness.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2015
yet even though i count only five members,
i still play with my moustache and beard
like an organism of eight extensions,
thus i weave and think simultaneously,
in this great cobweb of silence:
my hand the spider, my mouth the cobweb...
how pretty the interaction to exact
the daffodil a caleigh with the thistle in parisian persian.

i am as unsavoury in my buds
of the tongue as i might calypso a pineapple for pink
in the new dictionary stating pink defines punk!
i am unsavoury in by tastes
like trans-muscle in its ivory enclosure,
as i am outstretching my hand
to “photograph” the rain
with my hand to get freckles and knitting patterns of aqua gnats,
as i am to say:
a. you dittoed that word without using it prior,
so why exploit such usage in the first place?!
and...
b. it made more sense to itch with rain
than describe drunk & twitching spiders doing a cancan dance
in the four necessary extremes of  21st century morse encoding
with emoticons: s.o.s. = octopus :) reverse :) pianist fake :(.
elevator going up! (this is the scottish parliament,
after all)
shiksh floor...
elevator going down...
ground floor...
that’s just ******* boring...
how about you climb the shcaffold
and drop chimney bricks onto prince’s st. (edinburgh) drunk, eh?!
well i did that, actually... who’s up for a sarcastic tying the knot
and reining in a horse?
no one? oh oops twos a buckle with hoofs for teeth
as the same cement... no, sorry... it’s called *enamel
;
say hi for me to ben and nick harper in this silence of typing ‘
oh i thought (i.e. susan).
**** me, the comma is on the ceiling, who’s going to measure
the time width of that one for exacted humour?!
here's one: when sean connie is on the screen,
you never shush the audience...
unless you get a shish kebab prior... and a shanty town
dr. feelgood - repairs project in motion...
shanty town project thumbs up good to go!
dr. strangelove - bomb bomb bomb!
dr. feelgood - shanty town isn't a hiroshima.
dr. strangelove - bomb bomb bomb, bomb!
dr. feelgood - a nuke on a geographic peanut?!
dr. strangelove - bomb bomb bomb burning bush in the taj mahal urn!
edinburgh is the new paris! edinburgh is the new paris!
yo yodeling the york... new town... virginia...
i'll export revolutionary france via scotland with edible 'burp'
new paris! bon voyage the october-haggis...
settle us among the apache with blood ***** and gain
testifying the hog's intestines as worthy digestion!
If you're a celebrity
For medications come to me
I have them all, come see, come see
I'm the devil in disguise

I sign prescriptions by the score
If you run out, I'll give you more
I'll bring your pills right to your door
I'm the devil in disguise

Dr. Robert, Feelgood too
Names I'm sure are known to you
If you're in need call you know who
I'm the devil in disguise

Uppers, Downers, oxy's....well
Imagine what is down in hell
I'll keep your secret, I won't tell
I'm the devil in disguise

Elvis called, and MJ too
They both liked pills in shades of blue
No one else does what I do
I'm the devil in disguise

It's up to you, which choice you make
I fulfill, and you....you take
I'm here all night, don't need a break
I'm the devil in disguise

If you're in need, well...I'll be there
You pay for service, and I care
I've got lots, and lots to share
I'm the devil in disguise

If you're mute, and lost your voice
You know I'm your only choice
I'll be right round in my Rolls Royce
I'm the devil in disguise

You'll end up dead, but I'll keep kicking
With pills and needles, stars keep sticking
I'm the doctor all the stars are picking
I'm the devil in disguise

I am the devil, that is true
I am around, that's not new
I'm known to them, but not to you
I'm their doctor...till they die.
Prisoners of their own success

Their world now micro-sized

Fan adulation to excess

Their love is just disguised

Their objects of affection

Live their lives inside a bubble

Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed

Could bring them worlds of trouble

A truck driver from Tupelo

A pop band from the 'pool

A superstar from Hoboken,

And one...the King of Cool

The superstar from Hoboken

Became the Chairman of The Board

If you made it into his 'rat pack'

You knew you'd really scored

His movies and his music

Made him the world's number one

But he had to minimize his world

When someone stole his son

His boy was kidnapped, truthfully

Back in 1965

And through his contacts in the mob

He got his son back home alive

This is the price of fame folks

Behind the glitter and the glam

They've got to have their safety

But the fans don't give a ****

Prisoners of their own success

Their world now micro-sized

Fan adulation to excess

Their love is just disguised

Their objects of affection

Live their lives inside a bubble

Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed

Could bring them worlds of trouble

The Memphis Mafia gave protection

To The King of Rock and Roll

But, by choice his world got smaller

And he went into a hole

He built a house in Memphis

To protect him from his fans

And thanks to Dr. Feelgood

He died a lonely, broken man

He couldn't live the life he earned

He was a prisioner instead

It's a shame he has more value

Now that he is dead

Prisoners of their own success

Their world now micro-sized

Fan adulation to excess

Their love is just disguised

Their objects of affection

Live their lives inside a bubble

Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed

Could bring them worlds of trouble

He'd a partner and was cool

He was suave and sang songs

And he worked with a "fool"

They conquered the nightclubs

They were known near and far

But his created alter ego

Lived his life at the bar

He ran with Frank Sinatra

He was the King of Cool

But when The Chairman started lessons

Dean was right there in his school

The Beatles broke in Hamburg

But way back in sixty two

Their bubble was just forming

There was nothing they could do

They lived their life behind the scenes

For when they did go out

The girls would all go crazy

And the world would twist and shout

Privacy came hard for them

They went four separate ways

These four young men from Liverpool

LIved life inside a maze.

It's sad that adulation

takes their freedom, makes them hide

But they're safer locked away from us

They're safer locked inside

Prisoners of their own success

Their world's  now micro-sized

Fan adulation to excess

Their love is just disguised

Their objects of affection

Live their lives inside a bubble

Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed

Could bring them worlds of trouble
Geno Cattouse Jan 2013
Hey Danny, I droped it twice but this one is just as nice
On the fly a small hummingbird on flittering wings just dusting the room
With dann dust and goodwill.

A quiver filled with curative pin point healing
She is wheeling and dealing
Danielle I presume is the full story.
Acufeel good. Feelgood ancient curative
Sent from the far east.

Miniature
Magic whipping about in sea blue scrubs
All good news .
Never gave me the bluesy tude.
Cool runnings miss danny.
Nuff respect.
A short poem for a big spirit. In. Small spirit
Country.
Seek and ye shall find I am inclined to believe
She has a good vibe.
Cool runnings hummingbird.
See you at the water cooler
Paul Butters Jun 2017
Whisky, “The Water of Life”,
******* burning all down my chest.
Opening up my mind to endless imaginations
So I can put the world to rights
Like Superman in his pomp.

Feel that glow,
Spreading like a forest fire.
Feelgood Factor
Fathomless in its depth.

Who cares what peat, in what glens
Or valleys it came from.
Or what precipitation
Bathed those golden barley ears
On Celtic hillsides.

I’ll drink any Whisky,
Single or blend
White oak cask or not.
So long as it gives me that buzz
And blows my mind.
Inspiring the best
Or worst
In me.

Paul Butters
One of my favourite tipples.
JM Romig Apr 2015
Old gentle vague dark sea
stars uncoffined above
my drummer grave
blind of age,
meet Mr. Numb Feelgood
he is dying - chasing smoke,  
following a blind parade
wanderin’ anywhere forked like Yes
at every dusty, homely, strange-eyed landmark
until driven deep down dead

Dear old diamonds,
my sleepy southern song spell fades ,
my past was a young clown
dancing, swingin' my magic heels
raging and cursing death’s grip on time

Now, I feel that morning’s fierce burn
vanishing into a tambourine memory
and I’m caught madly dreaming
against the ragged anywhere
to return green tomorrow
This poem was composed primarily from words found in Bob Dylan's "Tambourine Man", Dylan Thomas' "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night", and Thomas Hardy's Drummer Hodge

NaPoWriMo
ConnectHook Dec 2016
you don't dare
unwrap the real gift
hidden under layers of hype
too hard to discover it
beneath mounds of plastic
under the glare of neon
falsities projected
aimlessly scrolling away your soul
Godless Yuletide  
Christless Noel
sterile feigned joy
useless worthless feelgood frenzy
sentimental superficiality
televised consumer fables
cute trendy on the screen
market-driven fakeries of fake snow
Mammon's medicated stress-fest
passive-aggressive goodwill
American commercialism
angelic Antichrist malls of lost souls
waiting for the next explosion
trying hard to feel the warmth
in the winter chill
of hearts hardened
against the Christ
of Christmas
unwrap the past
to find the present
in your sold-out future
Christ is Lord
Here we go again.
Where the hell is the Messiah ?
Could that be Him at the top of that tree?
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
god i love fiddling with Kant...
i still don't understand why
Nietzsche thought he was
a senile old bachelor in the end...

**** similis...
      the grand APE...

now...

    is the ape a creature:
a priori,

os is the ape a creature:
a posteriori?

then again, i was once accused
of speaking out of my own
*** by a slob Jew in
Edinburgh,
as i was also jested at
with the words
    'we'll crucify you'
at a UCL drama take on
the plight of the Palestinians...

**** me...
     motley crue dr. feelgood style...
i guess when the last of
the last Holocaust survivors
are dead...
  the gloves come off
and we can... rattle the bare-knuckle
slicks...

nope... i always preferred a drunkard's
slang to an ***-licking
            ****** addict's slack;
but don't get me wrong,
i could read a Burroughs' novel
in a day...
    just... drenched....
in (a) hypnotic chaos of juxtaposition;

frantic vagary...
like watching a **** of a fly
darting here and there;

p.s.
   (adjective & noun -
so, no... frantic vagary is not
a "misnomer"...
   it's a doubled emphasis).

ah... the benefits of acquired
rather than the native
usage of the, spreschen -
hen hen... no spre(h)-       -shen.
trf Nov 2017
Another haunt is arriving, feverishly fast tonight.
Somehow I managed to delay the feeling, briefly,
as it usually takes the manageable Subway and begins to fester around high noon, but today I skipped lunch,
and the feeling didn't go underground for her mode of transport.

"Maybe I hit the lotto?", I secretly questioned,
and the haunt would forget her requiem, passing over me
like those lucky "Kennedy Husbands" during the sixties' draft.
But I was getting divorced while all the other couples
were on a faster track heading in the opposite direction.

Tonight the haunt is traveling 248 mph,
on the Fùxīng Hào bullet train from Beijing to Shanghai, en route to Vietnam.

The conductor yelled, "All Aboard."
and as if that period denoted a punctual mark,
everyone manically crammed into the narrow vehicle.

The first influx of lovely passengers to board were,
Missus Anxiety, Sir Prior Transgressions and Dr. Heartache.
Unlike Dr. Feelgood,
They had been waiting in line from the previous night,
like those idiots for last week’s black Friday sale.

Mr. and Mrs. Payments Past Due cut in front of
Bills Esquire and Judge Job Insecurity,
for the Belmont Superfecta win, I guessed the right horses, just didn’t box my bet.

Congressman Careless and Deputy ******* nearly trampled Senator Surrender on the way through the turnstiles,
while Mayor Moan was flagged by security for groaning
and pulled aside for a pat down and wheelchair inspection.

The  Mayor was found to have ******* residue on his sleeve, but legitimate prescriptions for his aches and pains,
so TSA
wheeled him through the crack rocks

Analog veins pump analog blood to my analog heart;
traveling for the journey and not its hasty destination.  
My analog heart will eventually be shelved,
as it still salutes the Subway on its journey to my soul,
but like dusting off an old Coen Brothers flick,
my analog heart is still entertaining its vintage tick.
Martin Bailes Mar 2017
The rich get it good
oh yes they do ...
they don't send their
boys to die in foreign
wars that are usually
being fought in response
to some pressing $ value
for them & their friends
despite all the lies &
justifications coming
your way,


& they own the tv folks
that you & your buddies
absorb & who tell you of
a world that they wish
you to see & by design
also teaches of how others
are coming for you & you
are best off by voting
for another very rich man
who obviously can best
represent your interests
... quite obviously,

& having fooled you into
believing basic compassion
is communist in nature &
that really its every man
for himself in this vicious
world & that coal is good,
& climate change is cooked
up by the biased intelligentsia,
they can continue their base
pursuits & just keep on raking
it in,

& continually stressing that
anyone from this shining city
on a hill can make it big-time
like Riche Rich ignoring of course
basic facts such as class & race
or where you were born & into
which family of what colored
skin they have again succeeded
in their narrative of oh good
god how wonderful are we!
& lets just a keep on with the
way it is cos there's no alternative
really & any its close to Maoism,

& whilst all this is going on
they manage quite stealthily
in a way but perhaps also in
that great American tradition
of the sly feelgood huckster
they get you all seeing Jesus
through a salesman's eyes
as if Christianity was negotiable
in trade-offs & reservations &
justifications for bigotry, bias,
profit & shallow mercantile just
plain someone else making
a buck of you all,

& rich people get the best of
everything don't they really,
schools, hospitals, retirement
plans, all of which they fool you
into voting to cut, cut, cut,
which leaves you poorer folks
worse off & those rich folks
with just more gold coins to add
to their piles in off-shore accounts,
fancy real estate, & investment
portfolios,

its all pretty simple really,
they pretty much own
your *** & you keep
on a handing it
to them
don't you.
Even the daylight feels heavy on me and the clouds have conspired to cast weights on me, the sky is a slate grey and this is the way of it.

I need the safety of steel bars surrounding me so the people can stand and look in on me,
I hope that they don't try to set me free because
the burden I carry is too much for me.

There is lightness somewhere and it falls on me
in unfortunate blindness,
I cannot see,
so I fall on my knees and I make a plea
to the Lord of the heavens,
he don't hear me.

When days like this come along in tandem
I cry like a man and then whine​ some, but
my tears are acidic and
only make me feel more sick,
if only the weight didn't weigh on me.

I am happy,
I am
and I know it
even when I know and
can't show it,
but the weight that hangs on me
drags me down and
points only to misery.

I wonder if there is a feelgood factory
and could I be factored in
by some chemistry?
if so
would they bother to take the time
to takes these weights off
of mine before I'm dragged
deeper into this feeling
of misery.
In the street corners he lives,
Waiting for the next moment of 'feelgood'.

Watching the sun rise and fall,
He seeks comfort in the shadow of men.

His glory days play before his eyes;
His dreams in black and white.

His favourite wish written in past tense;
Tenses only time travel can change.

"I wish I rejected that substance that day."
Just to stay alive
we have to nose dive
eat dirt
give blood?
what good is good
when even feelgood
is no good.


No way?
no way are there thieves
on the highway
and
my right of way
denied me.

Dream on
it's all gone
and to thrive
we have to
nose dive

minimum hours and minimum pay
a minimum life maximising the day,

say,
can you spare me a dime?
you can ask them for nothing
and they ain't go the time,
you're in the way
except
when it comes down to
minimum pay.
You don't have to be in Denmark, there's something rotten at the core of this Country
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2017
some songs are just, ****** hard to find,
name me a song where
you get an intro of a synchro.
of the rhythm sections
  from drums, bass and rhythm guitar
with slight accents of solo guitar?
i can only name one so far (short memory):
motley crue's dr. feelgood.

anyway, so i had this muslim schoolfriend,
and boy, hard enough to going
to a catholic school, in an all irish
neighbourhood...
         "broke" the fast of ramadam with
him by eating a date at school once...
but he had a real "moral" conundrum...
  he fancied *natalie portman
...
i said to him: you know she's jewish
(if not in practice, then by heritage alone):
broke the guys heart...
        i think that means getting ******
in pakistan...
       well... natalie portman: fair enough,
but she's a porcelain beauty...
you imagine touching her and doing weird
**** in the attick: you start building
up this phobia of carrying champagne flutes
and a bull in a shop that sells... well:
either chandeliers, glass statues,
or... porcelain.
   i was watching this 1999 film today and
i found an answer to my "longing":
it seems i was always into rachel weisz -
(ray-chell or ra-ra-k-k-k-el? never mind) -
but you see, that's where the porcelain
beauty disappears: and in comes the onion
beauty, the babushka poly-layer -
the mandible jaw... you can imagine doing
circus acrobatics with a girl like that...
and yes: she's also of hebrew heritage...
  curls and curls of a woman's hair are a sight
equivalent to a tornado in the elements...
so much for poster boys and girls,
but in all honesty, ms. weisz was the face
that made me read stendhal, working
from the book-adaptation on screen of
the novel the red & the black (alongside
gweg mc'gweegoor) -
              nope, not going to change my mind:
natalie portman is a porcelain beauty,
some platonic, pristine,
worthy of only having homosexual friends
of the opposite *** in her company...
           tamara? oh, who? that one night
stand... a spanish girl, picked her up in shoreditch...
couldn't get a *****, took a bath with
her the next day... the whole bit of she's:
almost passed out, and wants to do it
with the lights on, but under the bed-sheets...
+ the word angel... well not quite...
  i love how girls break up with me:
tamara said she was going to seek love
on the luvvie-dubbie island of ibiza -
   well fair enough: could have given me a day or
two to relax and get a *****...
        not all men objectify that quickly:
it's not like a drop of blood a mile
away with the shark sniffing it out...
plus the madonna-***** complex
that i completely agree on with regards to
my "anti-semitism" of freud.
so yeah... rachel weisz is a babushka beauty,
hidden layers, a mandible jaw of ***,
while natalie portman is a prized possession
readied for trophy and the glass cabinet
among the other porcelain-type prizes;

the muslim school-friend?
probably the only muslim i ever liked -
no... that's a lie...
   this other muhammad in kenya wanted
me to go to his crocodile farm...
evidently i refused...
  and this other pakistani that invited me
to visit his family...
                 anyway...
                                       true story;

and god, how much easier to write about real
life, than having to stage the intricate
labyrinth of finction, and reduce yourself
to a constipation,
   while your tongue gets snipped by a minotaur.
(March 25, 1942 – August 16, 2018)
(Thee ALFA (alpha) BETS Best "Queen of Soul")

Though unbeknownst to the diva,
where thee now sings with angels
(me, an invisible nameless spirit),
accompanies your mythic legendary
legacy afterlife already doth
Make Me Feel Like
an average star descended from on high,
thus inducing this generic solar stellar body

to exalt My tribute to A Natural Woman,
who unwittingly wrought
and outshone such golden gilded
fused steely mettle, imbuing
A Brand New Me,
twinkling in your posthumously shadow
nonetheless averring
A Change Is Gonna Come

pronouncing A Deeper Love
toward A Natural Woman
bonfires bursting bonafides
when ye whar barely done being cradled,
prepubescent maternity became latent
within yar promising nubility didst
budding classy pet auld aging dame
retaining topnotch je nais sais quois

A Rose Is Still A Rose
unsurpassed vibrancy despite
super nova waning zenith,
thence descent into hallowed grave,
where Ain't No Way any other Angel
could hold an Olympic torch
blindingly as thee to
illuminate Another Night

infused with brilliant poignant
heartfelt sentiment, sans
awe rays burning queenly
pulsating Baby I Love You
no matter crossing into
now ye didst cross over
into eternal resting place
thus, apropos for thyself

a disembodied essence
unbeknowst to thee to intone psalm
afterlife Border Song (holy Moses)
guiding holy spirit across Bridge
Over Troubled Water
asking thee to Call Me
upon arriving safely
decoupled from Earthly

Chain Of Fools,
where timeless Day Dreamin'/Dreaming
setting par excellence moral compass
asper Do Right Woman Do Right Man
diligently subscribing to Doctor's Orders,
whose plaintive insistence begs
cherished honorable muting refrain
respecting Don't Play

That Song (you Lied)
misled by Dr. Feelgood
specialist affixing botox
faux Mona Lisa smile
thorough fare lee exiting
off re:Freeway Of Love
back tracking along boo
love hard of broken dreams

sighing - Here We Go Again
nonetheless, I Knew
You Were Waiting For Me
unknowingly W| George Michael
intonating viz inflection admitting
to thine disembodied spirit,
ye obliviously unaware
blithely divulging unguardedly

"I Never Loved A Man
(the Way I Love You)"
relishing the murmur, "I Say A Little Prayer"
"I Will Survive," cuz bred confidante
to this trusted invisible pal August 2018
amorousness re: "I'm In Love"
aware such romantically
smitten state elusive from

Jumpin' Jack Flash lightening fast,
no matter unbounded toward stratosphere,
yar mortality harbored self
destructive cancerous spores
disease asserting to confidant air of stoicism
soul resilient malignant against
perforce never "Killing Me Softly" (you)
cleaving cerulean celestial

peppering heavenly vault with Oh Me Oh My
Respect plus Rock—a—bye Your Baby
With A Dixie Melody a firm ming
Gibraltar Rock Steady.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
well... guess i found my totem...
point being...
what's the difference
between alice cooper's
feed my frankenstein
and mötley crüe's
dr. feelgood...
     christopher young's
something to thing
about from hellraiser:
hellbound
   and john williams':
     song from
     the map room dawn
piece?
             i hear an
accent... slightly vague,
encrypted...
   but somehow prevalent...
  it's not succumbing
to teasing with plagiarism -
the full orchestra comes
into play in the john williams'
suite...
     let's just keep it at:
there is reciprocating -
   a complimentary bias -
a teacher, a student,
somehow the two efforts
of musical composition collide...
ever so, slightly...
but i have found a totem...
  like **** trying to boast
egoism by choosing a lion...
a fox...
  hardly a dog, pretty much
half a cat...
but certainly not a vermin...
a quasi enlarged rat...
        it doesn't matter if
i spend the rest of the night drinking
and writing very little...
i have the pictures...
he has,
   my interests;
crazy cat lady, move aside...
        you can't put a leash
on a fox...
no more than you can on a cat:
as my wizened grandmother
used to and still say:
a cat has his own paths...
  you can't own a cat,
you don't have a leash...
a cat own, you...
        it's not exactly neglect
when you enjoy the parlance of
"neglect" with a cat...
****... i'm happy he can forget
about me, and i'm all the more
willing to snuggle a *******
pillow...
    because? tree-hugging isn't
my thing...
  and it's annoying sharing
a bed with another body,
other than my shadow...
constipated...
           like eating
an Irish broth or a Hungarian
goulash using chopsticks...
  one word: huh?!
       if that *******
lover-boy of a maine ****
once again tries to **** his way
into my bed during the night
to snuggle up to me...
i swear to god...
   i'll shave his *******
tail and make him look like
an enlarged rat!
                  i sleep alone...
a company of my own shadow
is plenty of company;
thank you, very much.
Delton Peele Mar 2022
Hate to say it
But hate,
Stay away

Once upon any given day,
Epitome of cliche
In serendipitous melancholy form a sorta alarm did force its way into what I call my red flag repertoire.
My naïveté in classic form mistook ,what seemed to be a general overall generic form of ,
One of many,canonized and I might add widely recognized cross culturally standardized communique .
A non rhetorical bait  used  In fishing for an innocent people response.
Which , to the best of my recollection unravelled a little bit like this......
Upon such a splendid mid morning hike to a much beloved utopian alpine snow crusted ,light blue frozen lake early august
a heavy ,comforting easiness clung lovingly to my young tortured psyche .....as it was unveiling to me this euphoric vision....
For the first time I could remember I had been given the keys to unlock .....me ,for I could see straight through time ....and I had no plans ,reservations or obligations....And with a paid hiatus work status.
An unprecedented glorious somewhat lascivious smirk was forming as I stood alone upon this solid granitical uplifted intrusive  batholith.
I  felt as though epochs ago this felsic majestic perch where I stood immersed in heavenly view of stevens pass all the way to Peugeot sound and beyond,had pushed its way into the county rock and stayed in appropriation for this day....,
I stood chest full of crisp ,
Cool ,refreshing clean air,
And yes somewhat aroused by some far off clouds which my pornographic mind had some how perverted .
Thats beside the point ...
I stood, blankly fixed gaze,slight head tilt with the south park Kyle like smile .
I almost swear I heard Angels singing........
Wait oh my ........
I closed my eyes tuned my head wrinkled my forehead.......
I ......do ......
I hear them .....
Wait ....theyre singing .....
***?!? .. Motley crue,?
The beginning of....
Dr. Feelgood........
Am I crazy.....?
Well thats a given ....
But *** is really goin on here?
I.........don't.....
Wait its my phone
Its ringing ...
Must be something excellent after all this build up......
I answered  bristling with anticipation.....
It's one of my buddies.  
He says" hey buddy   ,
Whataya doin ..........
For the next couple weeks?
And from then on
The onslaught continued
Untill I discontinued
Dismayed my cell phone
Moral outlook?
Took a horrible
Booked for suspicion of having free time.
Sentenced to a lifetime of
Hey can you help me with this?
Under intensive deep
Subduction.
Every plan previously made,
Waylaid!

Stale

Love me,
Love you,
You know I do.....
....
I just never get to have ....
Oh
...its an emergency ....ok im on my.........wait what
You need me to spring for everything ......right now your broke ,    
Ok youl pay me back though
Rieeeeet?
And what?
Pick up some coke .......
Ok .......
Actually  no
Not this time.......
Im grabbing mango pepsi.....
Coke makes me paranoid

— The End —