Bride and groom Erika and Joshua Garza say they thought their Durham wedding was set and all planned. The owner of the Fayetteville-based "Bragg About It Catering" company had driven up a month earlier so they could sample her wedding wares.

"She had the food ready. It was good," said Joshua Garza. "We tasted it and everything seemed great, and then she wanted to meet at the venue to see the kitchen and kinda get an idea of where she wanted to set up like that. So then we met with her at the venue and everything still seemed great."

They moved forward with the company, signed a contract, and say they prepaid caterer Jennifer Debrue $1,100.

"We talked to her all the time. We kept in contact. Everything was fine," Erika said.

That was until the day of the couple's wedding. The two say they received some surprising news.

"Nobody told us anything until we were in the limo and they were like 'Yeah, your caterer's not here,'" Joshua Garza recalled.

The Garzas now had more than 100 famished family and friends and no caterer. Fortunately for them, they did have some resourceful relatives who were able to run out and grab food for the wedding and save the day, but that did not change how the couple felt about the no-show caterer.

"I mean you don't do that to somebody on a day like that," said Joshua Garza. "You just, you ruin somebody's day."

Joshua and Erika tried to contact "Bragg About It Catering" but never received a call back or a refund.

"I don't want her to do this to anybody else, said Erika Garza.

But unfortunately, Sergeant First Class Anthony Baxley says it also happened to him at his retirement party.

"We didn't want to have to be running around," Baxley said, "We didn't want to be cooking. We didn't want to do any of that. We did a lot of research. We actually contacted probably over 10 different caterers before we settled on this one."

Falling in love with everything on the menu that Debrue offered, Baxley, too, chose "Bragg About It Catering". He says he prepaid the full cost of $1,500 and, like the Garzas, was left with an event with no caterer.

"After the ceremony was over I was immediately told there was a couple of problems with the caterer ... she never showed up, Baxley said.

Stressed to the max after receiving the news, it was Baxley's family and friends who also stepped in and saved his special day.

"A lot of the people found out before they went over to where we were doing the actual reception and they went to the store and purchased a whole bunch of food for us, he said.

With two costly no-shows, I tried to track down caterer Jennifer Debrue, but she did not respond to our phone calls or emails. We decided to go to the address listed on her contract information and spoke with her husband who seems surprised.

"They paid $1,100 and their wedding day came and went and she never showed up," I told him.

"I'm shocked. I don't know," he responded.

He told me Jennifer DeBrue would call us back, but she never did. Meanwhile, the newlyweds and Baxley are trying to spread the word that "Bragg About It Catering" is not something to brag about.

Our advice to viewers would be to pay by credit card so you can dispute it when something like this happens. Both Baxley and the Garza's said they did that.

read more: www.marieaustralia.com

www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses

old makeup spilled on my floor
***** clothes strewn on my floor

You can hardly see the carpet for all the clothes carelessly being trodden on.

Blue holiday lights are strung around the mirror.

I am watching Andy Warhol eating a hamburger
I am watching Andy Warhol eating a hamburger
on a new, thousand dollar laptop, slick-as-a-whistle, paid with a magnetic swipe.

For the past six months,
I have had less than four hundred $
combined in checking and savings,
and that number dwindles by the day.

I have no groceries,
but I've got fistfuls of orange prescription bottles,
and I was handing pills out like treats and candy.

(but they are needed, much and every day)

Where did all these bills come from?
Money is paper, but it means things.
Suddenly, it costs money to breathe.

Eating? Oh pshaw, that costs money, time, and the store's six blocks away.
We can subside on government cheese, beans, and the fiery licks of whiskey.

I pout on my throne of ***** cotton, thinking
"I get what I ask for, when I ask, and it always comes--at a price!" I sigh.

It's always over a hundred dollars more than I could spare
and brings bad luck, moreso than a couple broken mirrors would,
smashed over a the front of your mother's blackest cat.

"Quick! Let's do designer drugs with the paltry change given by our parents, given as allowance!
I wouldn't feel like I wasn't nothing, nothing at all," I say, batting my eyelashes, "Wouldn't they feel proud of our feelings of entitlement to the greater things in life and consciously responsible adult-like decisions?"

I crack open my father's checking account with that swipe of a magnetic strip,
it makes me seem responsible when he sees I just use it for pills and foodstuff.

(I prove I love him, and he loves me in this way)

Now, together, we will buy strawberries with his money, until our lips are pink.
They must be four dollars, at the very least, then we eat like the bourgeoisie (!)

I kiss the cheeks of my reflection in the bathroom
"Como ca va, darling? Comme si comme sa. . ."
I lick my lips, put on red lipstick and then blot,
tousling my hair, tipsy, as I touch up my face by
licking the tips of eyeliner up like a cat's little tail,
the ends of eyes, coated with eyeliner as black as
my tightest velvet pants and dark, dark heart.

We go together. You and me.

Lying on the floor, holding hands, in vinyl bliss
listening to the crooning of sweet Francoise Hardy,
and the addictions of the near-dead soul of Lou Reed

You should move to a big city
and I'll come call, prepaid, with
a voice that is thick and ripped,
from expensive French cigarettes
chattering of sugar-white beaches
as I cross the seas all on a plane,
burning money all along the way
all the while drunk on red wine,
twirling my fingers around, with
bags under eyes, a little anemic

(I think it adds to the glamour)

We will go out to a dimly lit place
We will go out dancing then after

I will put on dab perfume under my ears and on my wrists,
I will wear black tights for pants, but first, do a little *******
and you will fasten the clasp on my silver necklace tonight,
while I smoke, before helping me put on my favorite fur

And we will go see Andy, at the factory
I hear he's doing something
with that Basquiat fellow (!)

I will go follow false luxuries, come with me.
I will gamble with you in Monte Carlo or Las Vegas,

just as long as you pay my rent at $695 per month,
and keep pretending,
until I die, or overdose, or something.

i've washed the sheets and slept for days
since you left home
i thought you'd be right back
i thought the last time we ******
wasn't going to be the last
i wish i were sober enough to remember it all

i'm calling from a prepaid phone
to reach you on your prepaid line
i'm sleeping on a futon
that hasn't been pulled out since you disappeared
idk if you still even care
i fall in love and never leave
just tell me you're done and we can figure it out

when are you coming home to me
i've been so alone i can't hardly breathe
i'll get my **** together when you call
i'll get my **** together when you don't

High synth notes

Japanese thunder

you amaze yourself



Walk with headphones

through grass patches

and brightly lit streets



heavy petroleum clouds

nigerian gutter feast

of trash and telephones



prepaid cards

litter homes floors

in cardboard sandals



shuffling past pubs

London clenched ribs

teeth breathe heart beats



Kick old orchestras

through instrumental mixes

modernity insanity




kinyopoetry.com

The ladye she stood at her lattice high,
Wi' her doggie at her feet;
Thorough the lattice she can spy
The passers in the street,

"There's one that standeth at the door,
And tirleth at the pin:
Now speak and say, my popinjay,
If I sall let him in."

Then up and spake the popinjay
That flew abune her head:
"*** let him in that tirls the pin:
He cometh thee to wed."

O when he cam' the parlour in,
A woeful man was he!
"And dinna ye ken your lover agen,
Sae well that loveth thee?"

"And how *** I ken ye loved me, Sir,
That have been sae lang away?
And how *** I ken ye loved me, Sir?
Ye never telled me sae."

Said - "Ladye dear," and the salt, salt tear
Cam' rinnin' doon his cheek,
"I have sent the tokens of my love
This many and many a week.

"O didna ye get the rings, Ladye,
The rings o' the gowd sae fine?
I wot that I have sent to thee
Four score, four score and nine."

"They cam' to me," said that fair ladye.
"Wow, they were flimsie things!"
Said - "that chain o' gowd, my doggie to howd,
It is made o' thae self-same rings."

"And didna ye get the locks, the locks,
The locks o' my ain black hair,
Whilk I sent by post, whilk I sent by box,
Whilk I sent by the carrier?"

"They cam' to me," said that fair ladye;
"And I prithee send nae mair!"
Said - "that cushion sae red, for my doggie's head,
It is stuffed wi' thae locks o' hair."

"And didna ye get the letter, Ladye,
Tied wi' a silken string,
Whilk I sent to thee frae the far countrie,
A message of love to bring?"

"It cam' to me frae the far countrie
Wi' its silken string and a';
But it wasna prepaid," said that high-born maid,
"Sae I gar'd them tak' it awa'."

"O ever alack that ye sent it back,
It was written sae clerkly and well!
Now the message it brought, and the boon that it sought,
I must even say it mysel'."

Then up and spake the popinjay,
Sae wisely counselled he.
"Now say it in the proper way:
*** doon upon thy knee!"

The lover he turned baith red and pale,
Went doon upon his knee:
"O Ladye, hear the waesome tale
That must be told to thee!

"For five lang years, and five lang years,
I coorted thee by looks;
By nods and winks, by smiles and tears,
As I had read in books.

"For ten lang years, O weary hours!
I coorted thee by signs;
By sending game, by sending flowers,
By sending Valentines.

"For five lang years, and five lang years,
I have dwelt in the far countrie,
Till that thy mind should be inclined
Mair tenderly to me.

"Now thirty years are gane and past,
I am come frae a foreign land:
I am come to tell thee my love at last -
O Ladye, gie me thy hand!"

The ladye she turned not pale nor red,
But she smiled a pitiful smile:
"Sic' a coortin' as yours, my man," she said
"Takes a lang and a weary while!"

And out and laughed the popinjay,
A laugh of bitter scorn:
"A coortin' done in sic' a way,
It ought not to be borne!"

Wi' that the doggie barked aloud,
And up and doon he ran,
And tugged and strained his chain o' gowd,
All for to bite the man.

"O hush thee, gentle popinjay!
O hush thee, doggie dear!
There is a word I fain *** say,
It needeth he should hear!"

Aye louder screamed that ladye fair
To drown her doggie's bark:
Ever the lover shouted mair
To make that ladye hark:

Shrill and more shrill the popinjay
Upraised his angry squall:
I trow the doggie's voice that day
Was louder than them all!

The serving-men and serving-maids
Sat by the kitchen fire:
They heard sic' a din the parlour within
As made them much admire.

Out spake the boy in buttons
(I ween he wasna thin),
"Now wha will tae the parlour ***,
And stay this deadlie din?"

And they have taen a kerchief,
Casted their kevils in,
For wha will tae the parlour ***,
And stay that deadlie din.

When on that boy the kevil fell
To stay the fearsome noise,
"*** in," they cried, "whate'er betide,
Thou prince of button-boys!"

Syne, he has taen a supple cane
To swinge that dog sae fat:
The doggie yowled, the doggie howled
The louder aye for that.

Syne, he has taen a mutton-bane -
The doggie ceased his noise,
And followed doon the kitchen stair
That prince of button-boys!

Then sadly spake that ladye fair,
Wi' a frown upon her brow:
"O dearer to me is my sma' doggie
Than a dozen sic' as thou!

"Nae use, nae use for sighs and tears:
Nae use at all to fret:
Sin' ye've bided sae well for thirty years,
Ye may bide a wee langer yet!"

Sadly, sadly he crossed the floor
And tirled at the pin:
Sadly went he through the door
Where sadly he cam' in.

"O gin I had a popinjay
To fly abune my head,
To tell me what I ought to say,
I had by this been wed.

"O gin I find anither ladye,"
He said wi' sighs and tears,
"I wot my coortin' sall not be
Anither thirty years

"For gin I find a ladye gay,
Exactly to my taste,
I'll pop the question, aye or nay,
In twenty years at maist."

I got to where I am today
Without the aide of
Book-smarts
And being a nerd.
I beat up nerds,
Steal their girlfriends
And drive them to
My parent's summer house
In the Hamptons!
No, I don't need
Book-smarts
To graduate from
Harvard.
My tuition was prepaid
And business comes as natural to me
As does stealing your girlfriend!

I’m a stamp -
no, I didn’t say “I’m just a stamp”,
or “I’m but a stamp” -
but I am a stamp
a postage stamp, that is;
unique and proud, in my own class,
for I’ve carried queens and kings and emperors
(I still do)
and I carry Presidents and Poets and Rock Kings
and Pop Kings
and Musicians and Legends and Heroes
and Gods and Nations;
and I carry **** blondes
and old dames who’ve dedicated their lives to others

I’ve borne with no complaints
the weight of genius
and soldiers and founders of nations
and martyrs; and I do not discriminate
and with like gusto and color
I’ve carried tyrants and murderers and charlatans
and once-were-legends now the shamed;
and look, I can encompass the universe
and within the shapes formed by my perforations
I’ve held together flowers and birds
and all wonders of nature
I am each a poem, a work of art
I’m a stamp -
no, I didn’t say “I’m just a stamp”,
or “I’m but a stamp”
(What? You heard me the first time, did you?
Well, I’ll say it again for emphasis!) -
but I am a stamp in my own right, unique and proud -
though, I acknowledge,
the image of Royalty or Heroism or Greatness has
not saved me from various knocks and hard presses
and the ******* bin!
But then, so have mighty royal heads rolled!
but look, hee…heee….heee…
I can be absolutely adorable,
and I just love, love it when you lick me;
and often too
I’m a collector’s item
increasing in value, and even with artistic merit -
though no doubt, there are countless with no idea
of how so darling precious I am
which is I why
I say proudly again:
I’m a stamp
no, I didn’t say “I’m just a stamp”,
or “I’m but a stamp”
(And what? Why do I repeat myself?
Well, there are thousands of copies
of one issue, aren’t there?) -
but I am a stamp in my own right, unique and proud
and I’ve created worlds all of my own
with pen pals and commerce
and industries and clubs round me;
and I’m not alone, you know,
well-supported by relatives
like prepaid postal envelopes, post cards,
letter cards, aerogrammes
all of us served loyally
by unquestioning Gurkha-style postmen and women;
and I’ve brought hearts and minds together
and I do it in a day or days and or weeks
and if I feel like it, I even arrive decades later! –
and there’s nothing you can do about it!
And oh yes, I can see, you’re prone to neglecting me -
you ungrateful scoundrels! -
first replacing me with cold
Franking Machines,
and cheap, unimpressive, unimaginative franking marks
and with postage meters
imprinting an indicia;
and all of you now
deriding my world as snail pace
in your world of instant e-mails -
but I persist, and I still am of much use
for - listen carefully -
and I say proudly again:
I’m a stamp
no, I didn’t say “I’m just a stamp”,
or “I’m but a stamp” -
but I am a stamp in my own right, unique and proud;
and if you, once in a while,
want to show me your loyalty –
come to a local post office and lick my royal ****!

Ian Kennedy and Pavle Pavlović

As Sol the Rouge begins to rise,
it warms Eve’s heart, but Downs her eyes.
A dusty halo round the flame
will touch the dunes and dawn proclaim,
as distant dusty storms reflect
on Eve’s dry eye and her deject.
To get up now it is her task –
No more in Sol-light can she bask.

You must recall: it was Eve’s Gran
who went to Mars to start a clan.
From little pool Eve chose her Buzz
and paired with him, who was her cuzz.
Through porthole now Eve sees no wood,
nor earthy ground for motherhood.
With hasty zeal space courier flies;
A sandy landing ’fore her eyes.

So, as the dawn of morn is broke,
our Eve then hops, with grace unspoke,
goes out of base to Lander Stop
to fetch the parcel she does hop.
Her ‘FedEx’ was by Earth prepaid,
and on this day had come her AID,  
by careful voyage, with prosp’rous end,
the ***** arrived that Earth did send!

Low-G and man-made air do need
the seed to make a better breed.
Incestuously is not a scheme:
a gene pool needs a brand new stream.
We want no feeble Mars-strain seed,
So A.I.Dee is for the deed.
From Earth doth come the flow of genes
as bottled stuff – you know the means!

To make the Martians extra strong
The Earth Decreed all inbreeds wrong:
All ***** from Earth-bound men must come.
Through outer space it must have swum!
In DNA do secrets lie,
tho’ some do think that fated sky
will give them scope to freely screen
the final flux of wanted gene.

“I’m not at ease, but lurk and look –
  I peer at pack from Earthly nook.
  Where linger ye, my family lift
  to proffer me some needed gift
  of fruit or nuts and comfort care?
  The time is right to use what’s there?
  No creature comfort do I need.
  My friends, I’m ready for some seed!”

“My boy must have my Buzz’s face,
  and then our girl should have his grace.
  A pigeon pair with rusty hair,
  and maybe also one as spare.
  We want his freckles on each cheek,
  that all who pass-by touch and tweak.
  Buzz wants them looking just like he
  yet also really be like me!”
                                                        
The­ season’s winds bring rain and freeze
and stirs up dust with just a breeze.
And when Sol’s power does make it soar,
the wind behind rolls more before.
If’s no heat from sunless sky,
with daylight gone, the storm does die.
Unlike her feelings which grow strong,
uprooting thoughts of what is wrong.

The storm now sounds like raging ire,
and echoes of her inner fire.
As sand blocks Sol for just a while,
it’s just so long that she’s fertile.
With redhead Buzz she wants to splurge.
To break Decree she now has urge.
“I need a gravid tum, now mine’s too thin!
  A child by him: I need to sin?”

To lock herself to Earthly Kit
and shrug off worry just a bit?
But she recalls her lover’s eyes
as endless hormones swell and rise.
“Here is The Kit for you to use”.
“I do detest! I do refuse!
Then fast it dawned on me.” – she smiled –
“I’ll flip the way to have my child.”

“ So at a juncture here I stand,
  with earthy Kit in my right hand.
  Now let me throw it out as trash,
  and see Kit burn to light gray ash!
  For we are first to break Decree.
  Oh gosh, it’s us! My god, it’s me!
  On Mars it is a primal crime!
  ’Hind bars might we be held to time?”

Unlike the Martian pioneer race,
they can no longer pick their place.
Air in the base is made for breath,
for outer air is instant death.
So Eve and Buzz are in the can.
And who’s to blame? It was their gran!
The Space Base is completely jail!
(Nor could they ever raise some bail.)

As red sky flares in real turn
then Earth’s old rules do curl and burn.
While sky does grow in ****** glow
Her love for Buzz will drive the flow.
“’Tis I, the bandit, burned The Kit,
with Buzz my man! To Earth: ‘Go flit!’
Like clarion storm I’ll shout, Rejoice!
and fiercely punch the air with voice.”

“This is the daybreak of my life!
  Tonight I really will be wife.
  I know this is my true found right –
  No more for me, moist tears at night.
  Instead, I spread some happy joy
  towards my big and beaming ‘boy’.
  O, Oh! how happy we are free,
  just jestful, zestful, Buzz and me!"

Next E-mail from the Earth appears,
and has our happy pair roll tears.
“A flaw was found in chromosome  
On all accounts must ***** succumb”!
“My heart confirms that right’s my choice:
  oh, come with me, let us rejoice!
  Today Mars broke the Earth’s Decree
  Last night we loved in our low-G!”

Next Sol does rise – Eve’s hopes do too,
as thoughts begin for Martian coup.
“Can women have new Martian Law
  to stop the rules that have a flaw?”  
“The Laws of Eve on Mars now reign
  and Earth does not its Laws ordain.
  From Earth it is today we deign
  that laws of Earth and Mars are twain.”

-----------------
Legal opinion: Eve's love-making was incestuous in two ways as it 1) involved having excessive intimacy in one third gravity 2) was with Buzz, her third generation cousin, which was against the reigning Earth Rule. (She escaped sanctions by going on to found the Martian Unilateral Declaration of Independence!)

old age arrives**

old age arrives
in a plain, brown box,
prepaid and taped
against intrusion.

loosely packed,
it rattles
in the handling,
invites curiosity and

with no return address
suggests
opening.

M’lud
I stand before you
Contained within this dock
The night I was arrested
I can tell you
Was a shock!

Because? … I do NOT write in metaphors
Because?… I say it as it IS

This is the crime
I’m guilty of
By the …

Poetry Police

Another one that irks them so
Is because I write in rhyme
They think that they are clever
That extended is

Divine

I would like to

                        exercise

                                     my

                                           freedom

                        Wield

                                   my

                                           pen
                              
                          Just

                                  as

                                        I

                                            please


M’lud
Take pity
On this soul
Who pleads
On bended knees

For … there is much room in the pantry
For us all to get along
For … there is much room in the pantry
To sing our different songs

Songs of different cultures
Songs of unrequited love
Songs of just plain nonsense
Songs yet to be dreamed of

M’lud
I now beseech you
Appeal for your support
Pay credence to my musings
Throw this case
Straight out of court
For the greater man
Will walk alone
When his backs against the wall
The greater man
Will stand alone
In any port of call

For he has the inner knowledge
He has free rein of his mind
He understands complexities

Eyes       are       no       longer       blind

Blind to prepaid formulas
Rules they set in stone
Please protect poetic liberty

For … I will never be a clone



CASE WAS DISMISSED AND THE JUDGE SANCTIONED THAT ALL POETS FROM NOW ON WILL BE PROTECTED BY THE POETIC LIBERTY ACT 2010