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judy smith Apr 2015
With designers like Iman Ahmed, HSY and Sania Maskatiya all showing, it was standing-room only at the venue. Many of the crowd of fashion insiders and socialites ended up sharing seats, with the chivalrous Zaheer Abbas giving his seat to Iman Ahmed after her show and sitting on the floor himself. So much for designer egos!

It was an evening that lived up to its billing.

Iman Ahmed may not be a designer who makes her clothing easily available, but in fashion terms she reaches heights that few other designers can reach. Her “Sartorial Philology and the New Nomad collection” was breathtaking.

The best fashion shows have a narrative — the clothes, styling, music and progression of the outfits blend seamlessly into a whole that portrays the designer’s artistic vision.

It’s hard not to gush about Iman Ahmed’s show last night because it was exactly what a fashion show should be.

Starting with a series of outfits in white and gradually adding tribal colours, Iman used fringing, embroidery and a range of fabrics to great effect. From the inspired detailing to the juxtaposition of texture and silhouette, this was a class act. The tribal white-dotted makeup and beaten silver accessories added further depth to Iman’s stunning layered ensembles.

Levi’s uninspired showing of their new 501 jeans and other stock provided the audience with a pause to process the previous collection. It’s difficult to make a interesting fashion week presentation out of high street wear and something that Levis struggles with.

They used better music than they did at their autumn show but the styling was still painfully lacking. They did manage to make everyone sit up and take notice at the end of their show though — Wasim Akram walked the ramp as their showstopper amid cheers from the admiring audience.

Somal Halepoto was next, with collection that looked distinctly amateur. She seemed to be aiming for a bright kitschy collection but ended up looking merely tacky. The shiny, synthetic-looking fabrics and gaudy embroidery were particularly woeful. Somal’s digital neon animal prints and some of the harem pants were funky but the rest of the collection had little to recommended it.

YBQ’s LalShah collection, meanwhile, was in a different league. An ode to 3 Sufi Sindhi saints, the collection was as much about the artistic impression it made on the ramp as it was about the clothes. The distinctly theatrical presentation relied on the slow beat of sufi music and plentiful accessories for much of its impact.

YBQ sent his models down the ramp in huge pagris, holding flags on poles and garlanded with prayer beads. He used only three colours - red depicting rage, white for peace and black for mourning. Most of the outfits were draped red jersey tunics or gowns with white lowers, braided belts and black turbans.

Rubya Chaudry wore a black gown with red roses but otherwise the outfits were all about subtle plays with drapery and cut. From jodhpur style chooridarsto asymmetrical draping, the outfits had interesting touches but needed all that heavy styling to make an impact. HSY was YBQ’s showstopper and added glamour to the theatrical presentation that he had choreographed.

Wardha Saleem was first up after the break and her Lotus Song collection showed how this talented young designer has been upping her game over recent years.

She used digital flamingo prints, 3D embroidery, gota embroidery and lasercutting in a pretty formal fusion collection. The detailing on the collection was simply stunning. Wardha used gota in delicate patterns that gave her outfits shimmer and paired this with three dimensional embroidery. The outfits featured flowers, fish, elephants and birds picked out in silk thread and beads.

She showed a variety of shift dresses, jackets, saris, capes and draped dresses. The styling was also great fun – the models wore shoes featuring spikes and 3D flowers while the multi-talented Tapu Javeri provided some gorgeous jewellery and music for the show. While there was nothing groundbreaking about her silhouettes, this was a beautiful collection that showed skill and artistry.

Sania Maskatiya, who presented her luxury pret on Day 1, now showed her lawn collection for AlKaram. As far as designer lawn goes, this is something of a dream collaboration.

Textile and print are Sania’s forte and she uses print extensively in her luxury pret. In this collection for Al-Karam she has taken print elements from her pret collections throughout the year including the Sakura, Lokum and Khutoot collections.

The prints are different from those used in her Luxe pret but are based on the same principals. She’s even used the paint splash embroidery from this season’s Khayaat collection in one of the outfits. Designer lawn should be affordable way to wear a designer’s aesthetic and this Sania Maskatiya Al Karam collaboration certainly is.

As for the show itself, showing lawn is always tricky on the ramp. Sania pulled it off with an upbeat presentation using fast music and trendy cuts, throwing a few conventional shalwar kameez in the mix. She fashioned the lawn into jackets, kaftans and draped tunic, using the sort of cuts that are a hallmark of her pret. It’s not how most people wear lawn but it was a great way to show off the prints on the ramp.

Naushaba Brohi’s Inaaya burst onto the fashion scene last year with a spectacular collection. Following up on a dramatic debut is difficult but Naushaba proved that she is not a one hit wonder with this collection. Inaaya’s SS15 collection continued with the theme of using traditional Sindhi crafts in contemporary wear. Naushaba used both touches of Rilli and some stunning mirror work in her collection.

What makes Inaaya noteworthy is the way that she takes unsung traditional crafts that we’ve seen badly used and gives them a high fashion twist. Standout pieces included a bolero with unusual mirror work and a rilli sari that glittered with tiny flashes of mirrors.

Although the collection included many beautiful outfits, there was a lack of focus. The simple tunic with a rilli dupatta didn’t work with knotted purple evening wear jacket. The inability to make a definitive statement let down an otherwise accomplished collection.

Naushaba added a characteristic touch at the end of her show. She’s committed to social responsibility and supports local craftswomen with her brand. Accordingly, Inaaya’s showstopper was Mashal Chaudri of the Reading Room Project along with Naushaba’s daughter Inaaya. She held up a plaque saying “I teach therefore I can” while Inaaya wore a T-Shirt with the slogan “super role model”.

HSY brought the evening to a close with a high-speed presentation of his Hi-Octance menswear collection. The unusual choreography featured the models zipping along the catwalk, pausing briefly on their second round. The energetic presentation complemented a collection of sharp suits and jackets, leavened with quirky polka dot shirts and bold stripy ties.

There was the requisite shirtless model in distressed jeans and an ice-blue jacket but also some appealing suiting fabrics. HSY used only Pakistani fabrics and included solid colours as well as self-checked and striped suits. This was wearable, classy menswear presented creatively.

Day 3 was undoubtedly the best day of TFPW so far. Iman Ahmed undoubted takes the laurels but she was ably supported by HSY, Wardha Saleem, Inaaya, Sania Maskatiya and YBQ.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses
Beneath the surface of our daily lives, we are always asking the question, “Who am I, really, and where is my true home?” The answer to this question is so utterly obvious, so beautiful, so ordinary, and yet so profound, that like the nose on our face, we have a hard time seeing it. Because of our own self-imposed limitations, the answer to this mystery can only be revealed little by little, as if a great veil were being lifted inch by inch, until the truth is completely exposed. Yet, we are destined to receive this knowledge.

Today-all around us: the electro-magnetic field is active and alive, whether we feel it or not. Imagine all the electromagnetic-digital devices surrounding us! Take a moment to think about their direct or indirect effect on our bodies. Global warming is by far the most serious manifestation of the “collision”—and Mother Nature is making the evidence ever more obvious. Our bodies are like little vessels of light reflecting our bright birth right. However these vessels constantly need nourishing and care. These are amazing times for us all but we must take care of our bodies inwardly and outwardly, else we are left at the mercies of the “spiraling” energies circumventing the universe. Both scientists and spiritualists have verily presented groundbreaking evidence about what is happening beyond what can be felt, seen or sensed by human sensory perception. At times-you may feel odd sensations or more anxiety than usual. Breathe in slowly and deeply. Take your time amidst the “rollercoaster of the city’s rush hours”. Remember to connect to the “higher frequencies” of a positive lifestyle in healthy ways. Exercise, Pray, Meditate, if you can- use flower essences everyday such as: Silversword, Shooting Star, Morning Glory, Sagebrush, Snap Dragon, Cosmos, White Magnolia. Growing a flower garden has its rich rewards too.
Nature’s healing effects are unquestionable, for within nature we come face to face with the Divine infinite source of All creation-as it was, as it is and as it will ever be.

Yogi Paramahansa Yogananda once quoted:

Harmony with nature will bring you a happiness known to few city dwellers. In the company of other truth seekers it will be easier for you to meditate and think of God.

There is a magic about periodically moving out of the “city’s confinements” to the richness of and around nature: forest walks, boat rides, mountain trekking and much more. The main essence is in feeling a refreshed aura around and within you-an indication that the city and all its toil on you have been left behind. We have to try to get rid of the notion of time. When we have an intense contact of unconditional love with nature or another human being, like a spark, then we can truly understand that there is no time and that everything is eternal.

Other simple ways of raising energy levels include: silence in isolation and more “interaction” within you inner spirit-your Higher-self. There are always two forces warring against each other within us and we can bring these forces to a balance during silent personal introspection.  In order to relate properly with and to your inner being, one must follow the “truth of imagination.” From the word-imagination, we find the word-image, which is the manifestation of our physical form and body identity.

As William Arthur Ward said:

If you can imagine it, you can create it. If you can dream it, you can become it.

More than ever before on our planet, there is now great need for interpersonal sharing and the acknowledgment that ups and downs are a vital part of our everyday life. This process is internal as well as external. The “key” is a flowing pattern that is beneficial to all concerned. Take good care of yourself, your relationships, and your health. Exercising both mind, body, and spirit can bring you the agility to incorporate balance, whether you are alone or with a partner. Life can seem like a seesaw existence, but you can still have a wonderful time if you maintain a playful attitude.

The “image” we carry of our self within our mind and heart carries the power to bridge our highest ideals into our everyday practical life. On the other hand, attachment to a poor image of self condemnation and suffering carries the potential to destroy our right to joy and abundance. Which do we choose? Practicing the laws of “visualization” is not unlike the practice of prayer or meditation, where the seeker opens oneself to channels of higher guidance and inspiration. Ideally, we are given the opportunity to walk through the gardens and forests of the earth with astute concentration and attunement, opening our opportunity to the light of healing and service, each and every day.

Whatever your tradition or practice, however you offer your skills to the world, trace your roots and find the center of stillness and peace within. Only from this grace-filled place can we restore the health and well being of ourselves and our planet. Become one who engages the full power of the mind, heart, and spirit in the interest of alleviating suffering and making our present world a true “Garden of Eden”

Remember to build the world around you in a practical manner. Is your spiritual, mental, emotional, and physical universe anchored in truth and wisdom? Follow the “call of the wild” and listen to your inner voice within that guides you to fulfill your higher destiny. Take time to make weighty decisions. Realize the implications of your acts for the future. Stop wasting your strength by criticizing others. Recall the ancient adage “Judge not, lest you be judged”.

Reinforce your positive, upbeat, and inherently good nature so that the dark elements of this world cannot break down your resolve and dedication. For those who have suffered emotional pain from all sorts of physical or spiritual abuse, If you are to walk the path of consciousness, enlightment and empowerment, you must go beyond your “old wounds” and accept this golden opportunity to metamorphose into a new “body of light” – one that rejoices with the understanding that all aspects of life are sacred and it is in the weaving of the dark and light within ourselves that we find our true wholeness. We heal ourselves and others by first contacting the inner nourishment or the "water fountain of life" within us which sustains our ability to create beautiful things in the world as well as to act from the depth of our hearts.

Imagine opening your arms to upward spirals of your divine existence like a beautiful chalice and ask that all love pour into the vessel of your heart. This love is abundant and rich, offering the fertile elixir of passion and creativity. These are exciting time and we must accept the challenges offered to humanity at this time; in it all: Unconditional Love, Peace and Unity is the answer. Change all bad habits-those that leave you with tingling bits of guilt. Cleanse your body and home and adore the “temple of beauty” that is your embodiment: your real reason for being!

The mystery of the universe is within and without us. Love the world...Love yourself...Love the change. Anticipate illuminating insights from places deep within you. Let the inner truth of your radiance come shining through. Most importantly, focus your attention and thoughts and blossom like the beautiful morning-glory. The yearning for our lost perfection, the urge to do and be that which is the noblest, the most beautiful of which we are capable, is the creative impulse of every high achievement. We strive for perfection here on mother Earth because we long to be restored to our true oneness with Almighty God.



Muhumuza Kenneth Ezra.
Jack  May 2014
Groundbreaking
Jack May 2014
I built it
Brick by brick
Slathering mortar
Rebar pierced
Lines off center
Foundation firm
Concrete faults
Cemented sadness
Tall as it is wide

I built it
Contracted of stupidity
Designed in self-absorption
Blue prints of folded sorrow
Erected by a fool
No cranes needed
Drawn in teardrops
Fallen from your eyes
Collected puddles of my deceit

I built it…this wall
That keeps you from me
****, where is an earthquake when you need one?
r  Dec 2016
Trump Unpresidented
r Dec 2016
We can dream...




"Donald J. TrumpVerified account
‏@realDonaldTrump
China steals United States Navy research drone in international waters - rips it out of water and takes it to China in unpresidented act."

* Emphasis mine.  Trump's misspelling: all his, baby.

*un·prec·e·dent·ed

ˌənˈpresədən(t)əd/
adjective
never done or known before.
"the government took the unprecedented step of releasing confidential correspondence"
synonyms: unheard of, unknown, new, novel, groundbreaking, revolutionary, pioneering, epoch-making;
http://www.snopes.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/trump-unpresidented-tweet.jpg
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2016
i know of Knausgård -  sure, and i share this concerns for
the art of taking to lumber and chopping,
  as novelists tend to do, write with an axe,
philosophise with a hammer...
          metaphor turned into imagery
counter-turned into literalism...
   i once imagined him not being there -
i once wrote ich kampf, stressing
that it was an indefinite expression
of expression, primarily due to the content
of the pronoun... and i was referring also
to the definite expression (much obliged,
atheism, a- without, and the- with,
or indefinite and definite articulation) -
the English eye sees one stance as definite,
and another as indefinite, and juxtaposes
the two interacting...
                          they duly interchange...
i can say ich kampf and say i internalise
verbs: a movement of the hand,
   a strutting or a waltzing circumstance
of owning a body... that's what it's indefinite...
that's why Sartre slithered in counter to
his expanse in philosophy: because i really loved
his novels...
                          but in terms of a mein or
a mit (including me) struggle i find not
ease... no one dares to devalue ****** as a human,
not talking about the past history in purely human
terms urges the postscript of a dictator,
it actually elevates him to a godly status...
           not realising the human is to make flaws
of what the en masse does: raises him to a godly status...
     Zeus had a beard... not a Charlie Chaplin moustache...
right now he's laughing in his grave...
                      old Aldous ******...
   and aren't dictators born because people find their
surnames a little bit funny? it starts so
innocently...          and then it morphs...
   and it becomes an unstoppable morphing...
    yes... i know of a certain number of fellow
      contemporaries... because i want to? no,
because i have to. like rewatching the 2015 film
android - some films you have to rewatch...
   what's being debated? autism and artificial intelligence...
   hyperactive autism, i grant you that...
        it dawned on me... at autistic person could
fake a normal human response treating it as
      artificial... artificial also means mimicked -
  it means that "smart" guy at a bar reciting poetry
he hasn't written... artificial intelligence or the study of it
or even creating it has nothing original about it...
it's not groundbreaking in the same sense that
discovering champagne or penicillin is...
or l.s.d., because these examples have the magic of
being discovered by chance... humanity has been
artificially simulating intelligence since time
immemorial... it's that natural consequence of not being
endowed with a peacock's array of feathers
   to create a soothing, and sickly gentle wind of a woman
resting in a hammock under the shade of a palm tree...
artificial intelligence was inherent in us...
       it's the unravelling of the historical noumenon of man,
the per se that has only crept up on us,
   and before the reality of such a foundation being
established... the humanities create the "prophetic"
citations of it being true: in the "near" / impeding future.
    if god is a noumenon, then man cannot be a
phenomenon... but he is and paradoxically the two
of mutually compatible on a basis of exclusive rather than
an inclusive naturalisation...
               we are talking nature:
  we are talking god naturalised by the medium
suggesting: for i am bound to create obstacles and test
the body, rather than the mind of man...
    as so is man, also naturalised by the medium
of the elements, saying: for i am bound by a body,
   and have to utilise the body first, to overcome the wind
and the snow and the furthermore, until i reach
the labyrinth of the mind...
  and man has done just that, he has bypassed the struggles
of the body, and created entertainment using
the body that once struggled against the elements...
   for he has created the god Minotaur: and the psychic
labyrinthe... as with the Titans whom the gods
usurped, so too comes the twilight of the gods...
but being usurped by demigods...
       Minotaur was a demigod... who usurped the gods
of the trinity that were Zeus, Poseidon and Hades...
        for only the Greeks could create a Judaic bewilderment
as to why a sign was given unto an infant...
           but that's getting technical...
the film, android (2015)? it supports the misconception,
the anguish of a highly functioning autism...
      whereby showing a woman's carelessness in the realm
of adaptability with what some would claim to be
the beginning point of: overcoming the elements...
sure the odd tsunami and earthquake...
   but there's also the tiger, and winter, and parasite,
   and diseases of so many variations...
              man has not been endowed with complete
control over his surrounding... but in becoming partially
overlord of the ones tamed, he has created a mental
labyrinth... a world of such complexity that will
inevitably produce instances of autistic genius...
                 artificial intelligence is already imbedded in us,
just as cloning and Islam has already existed
(Christianity is too schismatic to be considered a cloning
definition... and Judaism as a monotheistic principle
has a heresy embedded in its orthodoxy that it simply
ignores: reincarnation... the Malachi heresy...
  that a second Elijah comes... and god becomes a half)...
   we see artificial intelligence everywhere...
        if the myth goes that woman fed man the original
lie of Eden... then man has nothing else to do than
attempt to polymer that one single lie...
       and repeat it... a reverse intrusion to what "could"
have been an utopian splendour.
      we all see artificial intelligence rummaging about
in the choices people make... it's called lying
   to gain access to a ****** gratification...
  or as i like to call it: a way to compensate our falling short
of the norm, a norm that focuses upon creating
   the most complex startup a Silicon Valley genius
can't comprehend... a family.
    these times prescribe such a bewilderment...
              families are artefacts of what some believe
precipitated into barbarity so close to us: the 20th century...
        and all those arguments you hear that might
discourage the opposite ***, as in damning your parents
for a piece of seashore **** fest of the *****?
   probably came from a person born from a surrogate
mother... well... an incubator, a very expensive *****...
   homsexuality created the evolution of prostitution,
once bound to the genitals... now bound to the womb...
     i.v.f. kids calling natural kids ******...
   i never liked the matrix movies in all honest...
but we're seeing the reversal of the original idea...
                 in the matrix of knowledge... hearts become
piñata: chockies sweet, sensations abundant,
  the spectrum is yours.
                but this poem isn't really about that...
i can sip a whiskey and actually find these things when
i start to utilise these symbols... it sometimes happens
that they fall through... all i was really thinking about
is the "theoretical" score of 147...
                      i'll call them billiards rather than *****
to excuse a "he-he" Michael Jackson laugh at a chance
of "nuance"...
       yellow (2), green (3), brown (4), blue (5), pink (6), black (7)...
and plenty of red (1)... points in bracket respectively...
                  of course from childhood memory i sided with
ronnie... also from Romford... an obscure town in Essex
that oversees the shard and canary wharf from
a distance...                    but watching snooker as a child...
          not too bad at pub-snooker: i.e. pool...
and that game show when snooker was hot back in
the 1990s... big break, with jim davidson as host...
    and of course: john virgo as the rejuvenated
                         ghost of alex higgins... this whiskey
swiggly is on me al.
                 but this final... ****! at one point it was
a century after a century...
                     chess with mathematics, trigonometry
and Pythagoras in motion...
                                    the gods playing with saturn
and jupiter neptune planetary arrangements...
            i can't word it properly... but it'll definitely sound
better than a concussion after too much rugby and
the rough-stuff of "manhood" strutting with bulging
muscle tensions... rather than this Japanese warrior-monk
in a waistcoat and bow-tie swirling a stick in the air...
           i just thought of one thing...
15 wildebeests on an African savannah...
       out comes one lioness...
    and she nibbles at the pack... and she picks off
the weakest of the 15 wildebeests...
              she nibbles the pack before the pack breaks away...
         she looks left (red) and then looks right (yellow,
green, brown, blue, pink, black) -
                      and she picks at the pack, one by one
they fall... but there are two games going on...
   there's the no-man's land snooker where the game is
about entrenchment, and snookering the opponent
for a foul... and then there's the tsunami snooker...
which kinda looks like one person playing chess...
     with no opponent other than a chance mistake...
misjudgement on the case of instinct and how they ******
well know what angle to fudge the white lioness
                onto the billards... and with what force...
      tsunami snooker, or cascade snooker is basically
a monologue...
                             after seeing 3 centuries in a row
you get to crave classical snook -
                                       the mind games of safety shots...
   and teasing, and tempting, and teasing, and tempting,
before the Rubic cube unravels itself,
   and you find that light at the end of the tunnel...
                        and the black pops into...
i'll be honest, i haven't watched snooker for a long time...
        maybe that's why i feel so enthusiastic about it...
       it's sometimes good to be fed this mundane diet
of sport-fanaticism that football is in accordance with
religious dogma... it's a good thing...
             then you end up watching a game of snooker
and all these things start firing up your brain...
   and you end up saying:
      the Taj Mahal can be there for all i care...
the Grand Canyon can be there for all i care...
                    such things don't really require a photograph
with my gimp-face trying to make other people jealous
by actually being there: only to take a photograph,
rather than feed into the air and the thrill of being there...
        as they say... it's a small world after all...
better get used to it being much bigger inside your head.
091622

The rain emptied its heavy heart,
And all of them get their crowns in white
Their robes contrast with mine
While some hold their golden wands.

I look up to the sky and begged it to stay still
But the waters wanna bless
The dry coarse land we’re treading in.
And everyone was so thrilled to dance in the rain
To relish their breaks and take pleasure in their poise.

I stood aside seeing their joyful faces
But my heart was also gloomy as I search from within.
Everyone started to leave
And I was one of those who are left with their remnants.

My head is downcast as the rain pours
And I felt discouraged and rejected for a while.
I took what is left with me,
And before they eliminate the printout,
Before everyone else embark on their preceding steps,
There I am – having my moment.

I had no chance to put up a smile
And I stroll with tears
That is about to fall
But as I try to compose myself,
I have to overcome myself again and again.

Even if grief buries my face,
Something sparkly assaults me from within —
That there was someone else who watches over me
Who always claps at me
When no one else does.

Someone up there is granting me courage
Who knows how I worked hard
Until I set foot at this very moment.

And while nobody else compliments me,
He who knows me best says,
“You’ve done a great job.”

From a heavy heart this sunrise,
My sunset was moved by praise.
Here I am calling this day a triumph
And praying for those whom God told me to intervene for.

I knew that I don’t always get the outcomes that I expect,
But He who started my foundations
Will soon bring me to the finish line.
And I will continue to run this race —
Looking at the Gem of my heart.

Truly, humility comes before honor
And honor and praise only belong to my King —
To my King who sees my afflictions
Whether in sorrow or joy,
Let me serve you
With all of my heart, strength, mind, and soul.
danny Oct 2016
"hey just wondering but why did your dad unfriend me on facebook?"
i mean he never even called me your girlfriend even after over a year but at this point i am not sure if that counts for anything

"um excuse me but i am triggered by your tweets about your girlfriend"
mainly because they are just recycled versions of things you used to say about me

"but yeah ok that's fine!!!"
hope she tucks you in at night and remembers that you never texted "i love you" to me and that you only posted six pictures of me on instagram during our whole relationship but really who's counting??

"**** the both of you honestly"
thanks for sending your bff to like this tweet because we all know that none of us are ready for the long overdue confrontation that is obsolete

"is it raining where you are?"
i hope it never stops ******* raining wherever you are
actual poetry written between real tweets i have posted because feelings are dumb and everything is dumb
Rebecca Gismondi Jan 2016
coffee tastes better in Spain

a simple hello is groundbreaking

comfort can be a warm bed or a “like” of a picture

the cold is different in the UK (you can feel it in your bones)

they will always give you a knife and fork to eat a hamburger

sometimes you need to eat at a Hard Rock in Lisbon to be reminded of home

if you eat the bread, they will charge you 1€

crying alone in a hotel room or at a Chinese restaurant in Italy is perfectly normal

never doubt the power of distance

now you can never say you didn’t try

just because you don’t speak the same language, doesn’t mean “*******” isn’t universal

sometimes sleeping next to someone who peeled your outermost layer off is the most intimate you need to be

“I’ll never see these people ever again”

have pride

ask me now what it is that I want

I have come to loathe all brown bags and black suitcases

vulnerability does not necessarily equal intimacy

remember that you pulled yourself out of the sea

your feet tread castles and cathedrals where thousands walked

art galleries are best enjoyed alone

now you understand when mom and dad don’t answer how agonizing it is

write it down if you want to forget it

acknowledge buried truths

eat paella and shnitzel and pizza and fish and chips and don’t think

go to movies at the tallest cinema

slip a little on the cobblestones

lay for hours on the beach

then

go home
be humble
remember
reminisce
teach
embrace

Glasgow – 1/8/15
When archaeologists pull
something out of the dirt,
they call it a discovery.

I imagine them years from
now, "discovering"
skyscrapers and microwaves
and styrofoam cups. I can see
them with my broken body.

There's something different
about these bones,
they say,
something heavy.

There is a message in here
somewhere. There is a riddle
that still twists my hands up.

They said there was a place
inside me where the music
had gone wrong.

I said, There is no such thing
as wrong music.


I've been at myself with a pick
axe for a long time, trying to
discover something new and
groundbreaking underneath.

*just sediment
Tyler Zempel Dec 2018
The Explorer

“Good evening everyone!  We are here outside the home of missing serial ****** and kidnapper, Chris Morris.
I’m here with my beautiful girlfriend Rachel and I’m sure being so close to Chris Morris’s house here on 21 Hoover Ln. is making her *******
tingle with excitement at the idea of the unknown we are walking into here.
A cop car has been parked outside the home for the past few hours now and has yet to disappear.
We have been waiting to venture inside just in case cops are inside doing another search,
but based on both long distance and short distance research
of the house and area, we are convinced no one is inside.
The house is dark, no movement has been detected so it’s time to decide,
go inside and explore, or bail and go home.
I’ve been salivating at the chance to explore this house and I’m pretty sure at the mouth I’m beginning to foam,
so inside we are about to go!
I’m your host Andrew Pittman and what we are about to find inside, well no one really knows.
What we discover will be caught on my camera for all of you guys to witness for yourselves.
We are going to video tape the secret room where Chris kept his victims locked up for his own sick ****** pleasure.
Whatever else we may document on this camera will be added treasure.
Here we go, on a grand endeavor,
to document and bring to you this dangerous and risky adventure.”

The cop car sitting outside the house still has me worried.
If a cop is inside combing through the building for evidence, he has not been in a hurry.
We have been parked waiting outside for a good three hours now and we can’t wait any longer.
What exactly are we walking into, well that’s the dilemma we currently ponder.
We approach the house cautiously remaining on our tip toes in order to remain silent and move undetected.
I look over to Rachel, she has to be as nervous as I am, but her face doesn’t look affected.
She’s smiling and in control of her emotions.
My face is a nervous wreck stuck in a monotone blank stare almost as if it is frozen.

We stop our approach at the front door and gather our wits for a moment.
I give Rachel a quick kiss in admiration of her determination, unbroken.
I place my hand on the door **** and hold my breath
as I turn the **** slowly opening the door, exposing a world that feels as if it’s plagued by the black death.
I was secretly hoping the door was going to be locked and we would have to find an alternate route inside or bail,
but I guess inside we go in risk of going to jail.

Once inside, we close the door behind us as quietly as possible to avoid detection if anyone is indeed inside.
I’m instantly hit in the gut with a feeling that someone has recently died.
The house is dark, very dark and quiet, too quiet.
Rachel grabs me on the shoulder, her face is excited.
She can’t believe we are actually inside the home of Chris Morris, no butterflies are swarming around in her stomach.
I, however, feel as if I’m standing on the edge of a mountain and am about to plummet.

I notice the bookcase in the living room still moved aside showing off the entrance to the hidden room.
We will explore there last as that will be the last scene my viewers are allowed to consume.
It will be the ****** of this film after all.
In the comments section below, you guys can debate that call.
Rachel moves ahead of me into the house and stops at the bedroom.
Her mouth drops nearly to the floor; her eyes fill with a sense of doom.
She looks my way beginning to shake, tears beginning to fall from her eyes.
She tells me that we have a problem and I can tell by the horror in her ****** expression that is no lie.

I make my way next to Rachel and look inside the bedroom.
What I witness more closely resembles a tomb.

With the camera still rolling, “What in God’s good name happened here?”

A naked man lies apparently dead on the ground.
A police uniform lies scattered on the floor; we may have found our cop that belongs to the patrol car out front.
A woman is handcuffed to the bed but is not moving.
If this was consensual or not, right now there’s no telling.

I approach the woman and touch her on the face to see if I get a response.
It only takes a few seconds for her to respond.
Her eyes shoot open in panic, she must have fallen asleep.
I’m not sure what we’ve stumbled upon, but whatever it is, it’s deep.

“Are, are you real?  Please tell me you’re real!’

“Yes, we are real.  What happened here?”

“That man on the floor is, or should I say, was a cop.
He pulled me over near the intersection of Bradberry and Hilltop.
He planted ******* on me and told me if I didn’t play along with his game that things wouldn’t end well for me.
He cuffed me and placed me in the back of his patrol car so I couldn’t flee,
then brought me here in order to **** me.
He snorted line after line after line of ******* off of my ***,
then as he began to **** me, he overdosed and died right there on the floor.
Honestly, I thought I was done for.
He died and I was handcuffed to this bed and no one had a clue anyone was even inside this godforsaken house.
If you don’t mind, can you find the keys for these cuffs and get me unchained from this bed?”

I agree to the request and take the keys for the cuffs off of the officer’s belt.
This is quite the unforeseen situation we’ve been dealt.
I take the cuffs off of the woman who gets up and hugs me for freeing her as Rachel looks on with a jealous stare at a half-naked woman hugging me.
I mouth towards her, “she’s just happy to be free.”

“So if you don’t mind me asking, what brought you two into this house in the first place?
I honestly had myself convinced I would never see another living face.”

“We are explorers who like to explore and document our adventures in abandoned or just down right creepy places,
and what’s the top place to hit up and explore right now?
Well…Chris Morris’s house!
So here we are to explore and document our findings.
Didn’t expect to find you and a dead cop here though.
We will cover up your identity in the film, just so you know.
O, and don’t call the cops and report this when you leave.
We will do that for you after we achieve
what we have come here to achieve.”

“Regardless of why you are here, I’m happy you guys showed up.
You just saved my life.
I won’t report this to the police, I’ll leave that for you to do.
This place does give me the creeps so that might be a cue
to not hang around here to **** long,
so do what you got to do and get the **** out!”

With that said, the woman departs leaving Rachel and I alone in the bedroom with a dead cop turned ******.
Time to find out just who this man is.
I locate the dead man’s wallet and take out his I.D. to identify just who he is for my future viewers.
Anthony Armstrong is the man’s name, what a loser.
I recognize the name.
He’s the cop that lead the searches of this house for both of the missing girls but was unable to find either of them each time.
He had everyone fooled thinking he had a heart of gold, instead it’s made out of slime.
The ****** wasn’t even able to locate the girls in this house when he executed the search warrants.
It took outside help for them to be located.
An anonymous tip lead to the location of the girls.
That must have been embarrassing.
And this Chris Morris guy is still missing!
He could be anywhere, even somewhere nearby, but he probably fled the country to avoid going to prison.

“Did you get that viewers?
This cop failed to located the two missing girls who were being held right here in this house, and was only able to finally locate them after an anonymous tip came in alerting the police to their location.
Then, when they arrived to save the girls, Chris was already gone and they have been unable to locate him ever since.
Police work at its finest, I’d say.”

Rachel and I, now tired of being in the same room as a dead corrupt cop, decide to finish up the adventure and check out the hidden room Chris used to keep the girl’s prisoner.
It would be nice to find some evidence pointing to Chris’s whereabouts so he’s finally able to face the executioner.

We exit the bedroom and make our way into the living room where the bookcase that hid the room is still moved exposing the hidden room for us just to walk into.
This is the moment we have all been waiting for, I hope you all enjoy the view.

We walk past the bookcase and enter into the hidden room,
where we are greeted with a nerving sense of gloom.
The room is even darker than the rest of the house.
Hanging on the wall is a skimpy school girl blouse.
The pervert was a teacher and I guess had a fetish for his students.
He probably brought them here to punish them for being truant.
Yeah I see it now, he would bring them here to punish them in hopes they would begin to show improvement,
but all he would do was leave them with their virginity’s ruined.

This room feels like a dungeon.
If I had to choose a way to die, I would have to go with being bludgeon.
I can’t imagine being ******* here, ***** and tortured for months on end.
This man’s actions, no one is able to defend.
The one poor girl gave birth to a baby just after being rescued from here.
That had to be one hell of an ordeal to endear.
After being ***** and abused for months on end,
she finally is rescued just to give birth to a baby that will remind her of her abuser for the rest of her life.
What a cruel ******* fate.
I hope one day she can find a good, loyal mate.

Rachel whispers into my ear…
o…I guess she is dead now…
murdered by the other girl who was kept here…
she was killed by the cops and is dead as well…
**** this adventure keeps getting darker as we go on.

Anyways, the room contains no windows as one would expect.
The one room has a table with straps and I swear it still smells of young ******* being wrecked.
*** toys still line the walls of the room.
I hope one day all of this is used as evidence in the courtroom.

The second room is just a chain attached to a wall.
The one girl reportedly spent many long hours chained up in here with nothing but a hard floor curled up in a ball.
She was drugged for her obedience or so the media has reported.
This is sickening, I wish there was some way it could all have been thwarted.
Chris really does need to be caught and forced to pay for his actions.
He needs to be punished in a merciless fashion.
I would love to have a few shots at him myself.
I would turn his final moments on the flat Earth into a brutal farewell.
This room, and house overall in general, really gives me the creeps.
I can’t imagine staying overnight here to sleep.
A constant, cold, nerve inducing chill crawls up and down my spine.
This place should be demolished and be covered by the local paper as their front-page headline.

Having enough footage between the dead police officer, cuffed to the bed, seminude girl and this godforsaken hidden room, I turn around to head back out of the room to leave.
I believe I accomplished everything I came here to achieve.
I stop in my tracks as standing in front of me at the entrance to the hidden room are a man and a woman.
The woman has a gun pointed directly at my head, wanting to pull the trigger I’m sure, to insert into my brain an life ending bullet.

The man speaks, “What are you two doing in this house?”

“We mean no harm, just came here to explore this house a little bit, to get a bird’s eye view of the set Chris Morris used to torture those poor girls.
This room is beyond disgusting and makes us want to hurl.
We found a dead cop in the bedroom and a young woman who was handcuffed to the bed who we released and has already called the police to come here, so I suggest we all make our way out of here before we get in real trouble.
Once the cops arrive and see their friend dead in that room, they won’t be in a mood to sit around with us to ******* and chuckle.”

The man motions to the woman to lower her gun.

“My name is Nathan and this is my friend Amanda.
We didn’t mean to startle you like this.
We got suspicious of the cop car that’s been parked out front for far too long and got suspicious after your car showed up and remained parked out front for an extended period of time now.
This isn’t a place for people to be hanging around anyhow.
We stumbled upon the dead cop as well so I suggest we do get moving and leave here immediately before trouble happens to stumble upon us.
I see you have a camera and like to video tape your explorations, so I have something I would like us to discuss.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well, my good friend Dr. James Allen Burke is conducting the most groundbreaking experiment of his life right now as we speak and could use a camera man to capture the moment on tape.”

“James Allen Burke, I’ve heard of him!  Wasn’t he the world-famous brain doctor that was forced into retirement due to trying to conduct very controversial experiments and surgeries on people?”

“Yes, however his experiments have not stopped, he just moved them underground and out of the spot light.
He lives right next door to this house, as do I on the opposite side, so how about you come over with me and use your camera for some good?  I promise you the man won’t bite.
You will be recording an event that will rewrite the history books as we know them.
Too pass on this offer would be mighty dumb.
So, what do you say?
Will you come with us?”

I look over to Rachel who appears unsure of what we should do.
I smile and wink towards her also feeling uneasy about this since this offer just came out of the blue.
But if Nathan is right and I’ll be recording a massive historic event, I can’t pass that up.
Worst comes to worst, we will thank them for their time and leave if this turns out to be a bust.

“Ok we will come with you.”

“Great, let’s get moving!”

— The End —