well, it's been a while.
I wrote "evergreen" when
we had been together
two months;
"evergreen addendum" after
a year and a half.

it's been almost eleven years now,
married for seven.
I can barely remember
the me I was
when I wrote those poems;
the me in college,
before law school,
before the many moves.

it's funny that I knew back then
what I know now.
I don't understand
how I was so sure,
but here we are.

I'm still excited to see you,
even though I see you every day.

See? I’ve always
felt this way.
I always will.

Lost hair-am bold soon,lost bone mass-fracture when I sneeze,lost friends-well..had no to begin with,lost muscle mass-cannot stand,lost ***** functions-they teamed up and decided to strike,lost years-twenty to be correct,lost the ability to chew-the jaw bone gave up,lost dreams- only nightmares remained,lost strength- not capable to move my head from the pillow,lost weight-it is the same as the weight of a puppy,lost  brain cells-obviously otherwise I would not pursue self destruction ,lost sleep-kept awake by hunger,,lost my period-so no little baby girl Hazel,almost lost life multiple times…lost the promise of a bright future.

In my mind, I raced against time
I smoked peyote with the Apache
I chased Kangaroos
Through the bush with the Aborigine
All the while
...I searched for the power within me

In my mind, I outpaced time
I drew cave art with the Neanderthal
I climbed to the top of the mountain with the Sherpa
I hunted seal out on the frozen tundra with the Inuit
All the while
...I searched for the power within me

In my mind, I eclipsed time
I wrote poetry while under the tutelage of Langston Hughes
And I created visual greatness while apprentice to Gordon Parks
I even stood on the wall with Che' Guevara, like a Sentry standing watch
All the while
...I continued searching for the power within me

In my mind, I turned to face time
I wrote an addendum to the Emancipation Proclamation
And I saw the ugly truths
Of freedom's farcical Declaration
All the while
...I continued searching for the power within me

In my mind, I embraced time
I sought to free my nation from the pandemic perils of *******
And I prayed that we Americans would be free of
The snares of racial and economic divide that still has us chained
I did this while searching for truth, in this, our most tenuous hour
...then empyreally, God reached for me, touching me, and I finally found my power

* Reprinted from 'Exegesis a Decade of Poetry by Mekael'
© July 14, 2009 by Mekael Shane

It is important to never trust a Rumazoid
it is important to remember
that to them lies are truth
and truth are lies
they reject Oneness with the universe
and embrace The Process of Rejection
their religion is one of disbelieve
their moral code a sin chocked chaos
of sneering laughter and sneaky murders
and love as theft.

This makes them buggers to play cards with.

It's only been one year,
five months, twenty-three days
since we met; I know I must have
sounded crazy. Maybe if I wrote
that now, it wouldn’t seem so odd.
I could have made a mistake, looked
back and felt my face flush.
I could have been exaggerating.
We could have been long gone. But
I know that it’s not hyperbole. I
know that I was right. I wasn’t just
the crazy girl – I was so precise.
That was before we’d fought,
and I’d cried, and everything felt
terrible; that’s only made me love
you more. I cannot always express
myself. I can be so uncouth.
But I know what I feel,
and what I feel is devotion.
See? I’ve always
felt this way.
I always will.

The haystack is the needle and the iceberg is compact
Scions of attrition tremble before the contract
Jaundiced world-weary tears lament the frailty of days and the evanescence of years
Senescence a cruel destruction, distracting garish comfort escorting the fears
Displaced and forlorn love beckons a second chance
Itinerant hopes know no commitment to simple embezzled parlance
Of dice and kin, nepotism’s high-roller antics are the linchpin
Frittered patience staking its bets on internecine dynamics of skin
Affirmative traction of disenfranchised hopes rests on fallow seasons
Traduced mirage tantalizes until the activation of regaled treasons
Shock wed with dismay appoints the tutelage of prestidigitation
Juggled triage aborts an unborn reason and anoints intimidation
Aliens flummox the borders to enlist a new world disorder
Trailblazers succumb to lawlessness and for every dollar gained we lose a quarter
Chaos checkmates as power rests from decrepit hands foisting the meretricious brand
Cattle scorched and sheep scattered as the broken hourglass can no longer count sand
Time toppled serenaded by applause canned
Toppled pyramids blind the eye of providence in the hour of unheralded prominence
The terror of history unfurls the efflorescence of piracy as ghosts work to subvert the invisible hand
Next dictums emerge that say supply on command, and entropy desecrates the land
Phone home to arm the putsch, clone home for aliens we push
Revisionism subverts the instruction of years and empowers the apotheosis of fear and the fourth ***** of George W. Bush
Dynasties envy the anonymity of a bald-eagle cabal of skinhead guffaw
Irascible genocide cavorts under the premise of shock and awe
The lullaby of morons is flinching assent to the supremacy of the unelected and unassailable tyrants
Discarding covenants on the principle of principality and counting on every knight to become errant
Pyrrhic victory of the perverted cross corrals the flock
Openly announced secrets enable the aliens to dock
At the port they are greeted as the victors and granted not only amnesty but indemnity
They brandish the unprecedented concept of an enumerated infinity
To amuse the zero-sum victory they author a new history of utilitarianism dethroning deontology
To the future readers they make contrite apologies
But when the races of men are annihilated by the evil Zen boasting of its utilitarian ken
The rubble of time cannot ascertain exactly how or when
But on the dreaded hour the virus will conspire to elect the most reproachable power
When panic reaches crescendo all the sugar in the world cannot but help to taste anything but sour
Abort the tyrannical machine no matter how convincingly it preens
No matter how much bunkum elevates the enchanting prevarication while concealing the affairs behind the scenes
Voting for balkanized splinters designed to weather the winter sustains the monopoly of sophistry
Ballyhoo saturates the airwaves and suddenly catcalling becomes gallantry
Tune out the pulpit, divest the culprit and impugn systemic venality
Dismantle the verisimilitude of shadows and hoist a giant mirror to reflect stark realities
Cue the curtains fall, the specters grow tall, and the clout is daunted by establishment doubt
The skeletonized truth severs the root but the behemoth armed to the teeth wages a bout
Cartels conspire with arms and fire and resurrect stodgy tenets to prowl like an army of vampires
To feed a fatuous superstition and to empower a censorship of convenience to enthrone a dark empire
Cunning preponderance enlists divisive shills to let the ghastly thriller exact its thrills
Occult obscurantism funds the vulnerable and tramples over the outspoken to actuate its will
Hopes dashed, stocks crashed and strife abundant
Generational dissonance revokes the incumbents
Chapter one of this unsung war come and gone
Stay tuned for the next addendum to see what is lost and who has won.

There's talk of redemption
in crowded halls,
and as they adjust the dial
there's an addendum.
hard to tell
just who is right
although everyone knows
who is wrong.
no doorway in sight
in this mirror funhouse,
but the poor have TV's now
isn't that nice?

My loss is my burden alone to bear
In sacrosanct equanimity
But sympathy does come calling
In drips and drabs to attenuate my pain
Great talk shows seen
Some lend me their eyes to weep and wail
But vanish fast like a ghost seen at noon
Cos none knows as I do the depth of the pain
That I bear

The pain of sympathizers is on their flesh
As water poured on rock
Mine embedded in my bone
And feeds on my marrow
Family won't invite us,
My pain and I together,
To a breakfast meeting
My peers won't
Invite us to a business lunch
Friends won't invite us to a dinner
Cos the world stops not for anyone's
Tragic loss and accompanying grief

It is like an aircraft in flight
That ought to land for its passengers to alight
And one passenger I am
Swathed in the turbulence of this jet
Being baptised by unruly weather
Sympathizers are like car owners
On pleasure trips who could pull up
At every turn to attend to their fancies

My loss is my burden alone to bear
Not yours whose feeling stands
Aloof akimbo as I howl,
'My brother, oh my brother,
Why leave me so early
Heaping in my heart monumental pain? '

I have never met someone as beautiful as you.
I can’t believe you are going back to China.
I can’t believe that I will never see that face again.
I can’t believe I didn’t at least try, at some point.
You are leaving forever.
Every day I stared at you in awe.
But that was the problem - I just stared.

The blind Parisian has never seen the tower, or the lights that illuminate his city of birth
The deaf Italian never heard the opera, or Core 'ngrato from a Tuscany street corner
I never looked into your eyes and saw the cosmos
I am distracted by the power of corporate America
The unflinching pacifist still stands atop a suit of armour with his arms outstretched
and Syria rejoices as the stench of liberty matches gun powder and familial genocide
Oh western world, have you forgotten your past so soon?

Explain to the deaf man how her voice sounds
or
Explain the colour spectrum to a blind child
and then deny the tears that water your cheek
Tell the dyslexic that words are meaningless for it gives him comfort
and turn your back on the monetary religion of which we are indoctrinated
Take your ******* industry and bring it to it's submissive knees
Your weapons too, they are a disgrace
Empathy is universal
Love is blind
[Cliche]
[Cliche]
End.

A return, or a refrain, addendum to the ideas thenceforth
It's enough to leave a man crying in his coffee, Starbucks specialty
**** your poets, burn your books and gouge your eyes
This world is not broken, we are.

Christmas in Queenstown


I’ll be the emotional martyr so hopefully you can learn from my written mistakes,
and you can find love settle down and make a family before it’s too late,
before you’re just another lonely broken hearted hopeless romantic,
that feels the most lonely on holidays…

I feel the most lonely on holidays,
I mean I feel lonely almost every day,
but especially on holidays,
I feel the most lonely on holidays,

I know it might not seem it,
but honestly I am the sentimental type,
especially on holidays,
like Easter mornings or Christmas nights,
except this sentimental sense,
usually leads me to depression,
because I have no real family to be with,
I guess that’s why my obsession with acceptance has no direction,
and my ******* is only there for attention which creates tension,
which leads to extra ****** receptions by feminine tendons with no protection,
and the misconception that this is heaven leads to spiritual indigestion,
which progresses to regret when I try to repent then write these written confessions…

I confess,
I am a mess,
but also blessed,
so what the heck,

here I sit,
it’s Christmas eve,
I’m in Queenstown,
feeling like a king,

or at least was,
at one point in the evening,
before I met that *****,
and we made lust without any reasoning,

tis the seasoning,
this is the thieving,
of all progress from healing,
when I throw it all away for some ****** feelings,

no ****** healing,

feeding,
egos with libidos,
achieving,
nothing nada zero,

see I was on Church St.,
in Queenstown how ironic,
there is no salvation on this Church,
only drunken fools that seem demonic,
and ignorance,
that spreads like it’s bubonic,

no plague though,
just shaky legged hoes,

** ** **,
merry Christmas,
let’s go go go,
on and sin no forgiveness,

she seemed so ****,
with that short cut shirt,
her belly button showing off,
flat stomach what a flirt,

I swooped in quick,
took her under my arm,
the winter wind was blowing,
it was cold I kept her warm,

took her to my car,
drove her to my place,
laid her down on my bed,
kissed her on her face,

taste,
like sugar and spice,
but this girl was all naughty,
nothing nice,
hair silver,
skin white,
she was as blond as they get,
and I’m totally into that type,

and what’d you expect,
from a girl from Finland,
white as a white Christmas,
but no Santa in this wonderland,

I wonder when,
I’ll find a way to escape these cliches,
when will I finally find a place,
where I can settle down and stay?

Anyways,

I poured some olive oil on her smooth stomach,
I rubbed her body eagerly,
she removed all her clothes,
fully exposed I was enjoying the scenery,

wanted to stay there,
to stretch out the moment,
but she was in a hurry,
so I undressed as well and got on it,

I gave her exactly what she wanted,
a ready ******* and a bit of attention,
we made a sacred act and should’ve bonded,
but like I said before my obsession with acceptance has no direction,
and my ******* is only there for attention which creates tension,
which leads to extra ****** receptions by feminine tendons with no protection,
and the misconception that this is heaven leads to spiritual indigestion,
which progresses to regret when I try to repent then write these written confessions…

I went in,
and once spent then,
I asked her one question,
“Please stay and show me at least a little affection.”,

see what is *** when,
it’s absent of expression,
and it’s just fornication and abjection,
and what should feel like acceptance simply feels like rejection,
and you’re laying there naked in all your imperfections,
feeling like a felon who’s deadliest weapon is inattention,
it’s assault but it’s not either of your faults because you’re both lethal weapons,
phantom figments of each other’s imaginations our oppressions building momentum,

until we both can’t take it any more and she just wants to leave after the deeds been done,
and we’re still laying on the bed but it feels like the floor oh well I guess tis the season then,

still I must ask even though I already know the answer,
I ask her to stay and she’s already getting up to leave,
so the asking turns into a plea because this feels like thievery in the first degree,
“please don’t leave not tonight for the love of God it’s Christmas eve!”,

and I told you before,

I feel the most lonely on holidays,
I mean I feel lonely almost every day,
but especially on holidays,
I feel the most lonely on holidays,

I know it might not seem it,
but honestly I am the sentimental type,
especially on holidays,
like Easter mornings or Christmas nights,
except this sentimental sense,
usually leads me to depression,
because I have no real family to be with,
I guess that’s why my obsession with acceptance has no direction,
and my ******* is only there for attention which creates tension,
which leads to extra ****** receptions by feminine tendons with no protection,
and the misconception that this is heaven leads to spiritual indigestion,
which progresses to regret when I try to repent then write these written confessions,

so that these confessions will hopefully metamorphosize into lessons,
that others can learn from to prevent getting burned from other’s complexions of aggressions,
and escape from being the possession of their own misdirected intentions,
because cure is not as good as prevention and deflection is always better than correction,

hence when we are together it seems like destruction but when we’re apart it’s perfection,
because together we’ve all been through enough to fill an anthology of apologies no exceptions,
still I love all of these as in all of us because I find this mess so beautiful upon further reflection,
as all us broken hearted hopeless lovers just become footnotes in The Book of Love’s addendum…

And since we’re at the addendum,
I guess this is thee end then,
in other words,
this is Thee Ending.

Thee Ending.


∆ Aaron La Lux ∆

She'll do.
She's a rough approximation of you
without the sense of humor.
She'll do
and she did.

Rough drafts come through
the window.
A woman like that will only let you
get away with her for so long.
Every time she left
I was paranoid she wasn't coming back.
I'm turning into John Cusack
with my LPs in a stack.
She's never coming back.

I write my ****** heart out for you.

The "Thank You"  is the proper response to the seeming changes that took place due to a mic and a post when a man has found he was tired of needing and feeling abused, so, if they run with the rules that they respond to those things of him, then by all rules means the same must be done in this, and all be made well, and no pains come to those whom have harmed no one at all, none, we have harmed not, yet been harmed, and for our act of expressing our possible theories and oddly outsiders expressing odd pressure that coincides with said theories, then we are treated as some how now something to be intimidated by...? how does that work? we are watched none stop and well, lets not pretend that the threats have had serious effect and have been played by all sides, cause if not, then please realize we know not from where they come, just that they resonate on all broadcasts and ways and means a man can ask for to be informed. so, what would you do, and well that what would ... do makes its own point as it were. were it not such a point of um, tension and distress in some avenues that we know not of the identity in full nor have had confirm able proof or the like.

The *** stood stars on end, so to,
whispered, “play with me,” and in
haste we fled. We explored,
discovered, and devised something
bright, half something else sinister,
notarized – black roots pinned a
pink-scorched Mohawk, and
reciprocated, my wild “Mao-Mao,”
or so she’d named the hair on my
arms. The moon endured whilst we
knifed each other with each and
every gasp and sutured wounds left
prior lovers. I’d only come across
her name near the end, “Xiaolian,”
though the tattoo ‘top her leg, told
me, “Lola.” Come what mothers
christen us innocent would be a
poems in and of themselves,
addendum, the delirium aged and the
dance of neon atop our waterfall
soaked bodies - epic.

(Sonder)
Blue mondays linger a few days or years

I've got too many mistakes I can't begin to undo.

I held your hand of different shades
And watched the life fade from your bones
Without a spare movement to show for it

Not even a spasm, not even sunken skin

Macaw loverboyyy, mamasboyyy
Addiction puppet-strung on a whim
  not caring which direction I was headed,

I was born to use and get used and fate is the hardest habit to break.

I made lighthouses out of tiny chipped pawn pieces
I stayed up for nights trying to define
  Your holy ways in words--
What weight on the shoulders is that of an overnight eyebag compared to all those days lost and wasted?
And while you and all they other muses are dead here I breathe still;

Worthy or not
It doesn't matter.

The only unconditional love I have left is from someone I refused to speak to this time last year

and it's clear that I love 'em too cause I never say that I do

But these days I prefer my own company
  
As you know

And if you've the right reason's there's nothing wrong with that, I'm sure you agree

Suicide isn't a rite of passage but self-harm in some form or another just may be

And I've tried just about every method,

I used to haunt my home, encircling my messy floor skeletal
Not wanting to make a sound as I stepped.

Anorexia nervosa-- I never dealt with it and that's how I deal with it--

Even if every bite makes me sick now

I'll think different when I starve and my head isn't full of too many thoughts to get by on autopilot,
I stay inside when I can and I stay alone and I plan on dying this way

(Blondie) (i is another)

Sunshine washes over my shoulder like rainfall
And ruins my jejune overcoat.
I've got gold on my mind and spite on my tongue for all the wrong done to me

And I believe I'll stay silent again today because I'm proud of who I was yesterday.

I wear my ancestors faces although I'll never know their names

Put cigarette emojis on my grave and those clapping hands that has been misconstrued as praying hands for so long that that is now what they are.

Give me a house as a honeybee in memphis or somewhere else I've never been
And see to it that I don't recall a thing of this lifetime of mine and all it's lazy miracles.

Weakness is a force to be reckoned with if one is strong enough to face it naked.
Anger is a constant that's too recognisable to even be worth getting into with words.

One (love triangle)
I wanna be your lover,
I don't wanna be his friend.
Don't make me go home yet,
I haven't figured out what to do with myself

He's better looking but does he deform your toes?
  I doubt it,
Maybe I'm just not much fun to be around, maybe I'm a pain.
I'm my only audience as of late and
I've got codine in my liver, smoke in my nostrils and the taste of your tongue
In my mouth, still lingering...
I've got long ago broken bones that linger too and owe a debt in your name
It's so hard to leave a person behind
O but it's such a sin to stay the same age for any longer than you have to.

her teeth are pissyellow like a passive snowball
you were the gift that kept on taking
and I took every breath in strife, choking on rain to see a face that was asleep and too busy
To answer the door even though she's the one that sent me over.

Alas, I cannot leave behind
a stone that I found arest in it's place.

There is no food left, there is no money there's nothing but memories of securer times
but this you know cannot last;
vagabond in the winter with gloveless hand,
May not die but there'll be pain,
But he was headstuck and
clutching dust he swiped from the surface of pinkbricks back in summer when impersonating a banker,
no matter how hard one tries to hide anything
anyone knows the whole story at a second glance
My pharmacist asked if I was ****** again
I couldn't even answer, I couldn't even talk
It's not a burden, it's just a shame,
just want to be alone where no one reminds of my mistakes that I live with everyday--
I'm just a person I once thought myself more as a young person does,

you made me ascend for a second I couldn't believe it when I saw
   you were cutting me down--
Hang em high forty-guns
   and all of them empty
I waited awake as long as I could for her but she never came
O well
bless you even though you forgot to sneeze

And just so you know

I wasn't *******, I was pleading nicely
I just figured I was worth a few minute's attention, sorry for being wrong.

You were always wrong

You were always wrong

You were always wrong.

(Two ) (honkytonk mania blues/streetket laced with 'tism)

I drag pain behind my ev'ry step, don't you think it's a sin?
Long distance walk left my body feeling hungover
I collapsed at your door and you still won't let me in...
I sat on your stairs and raced the sunrise to get sober...
By the time I gathered my senses I'd already missed the train.
Saw you got your new love, she looks like an uglier version of your sister,
you know I'm no one to judge but *******! She looks just like your sister.
I was aimless in life once, babe, but that was back when I missed ya.

Three ( mankysam+abandoned/abused+ sadsong)
1.
I live on borrowed time
I'm inlove with Mary Hilligoss
Our eyes match in their hauntedness
But they hold lifetimes behind them neither of us could know about

I've got a best friend I like a little and love alot
She OD's on otc tablets just to pass the time
Maybe you know her but I wouldn't like to know why if you did.
When I see her heading my way in the street I nonetheless slip like Tyson on ice.
I find *** repulsive these days but my arms are always open for talking
Just so long as she gives me an hour's notice.
I was inlove with her once, I truly was,
But just because it mattered doesn't mean it should've happened,

This life will strip you to nothingness in time,
The question is a matter of whatever you wish to pose and when, who really cares for why?
An artist only stands to lose it all when they no longer believe they need a muse.

2.
Time brandishes a change too immeasurable to be expected to be noticed
Much less confronted. Broken dishes and screaming confusion across the room broken choruses reprise all too distant and muffled thankfully, just like yesterday.
I was juat a child why do I still want to say that I wasn't scared?
And now the only consistent reliance only shelter of love a door I kept shut hitherto before I couldn't breathe and thus had to let it open
I prefer to be alone more days than not truthfully I know why but I don't mind.

3.
It was new year's eve and I couldn't shake the pains
So I had to ask and wait for a reply; his yes is like gold on the ears
I've walked on blistered feet and bled before,
I've walked on broken feet just to **** their pain and it's worth choking back how ever many tears
Isn't that the way of life mankysam?
up all night just to lay head against the brick wall with my fists at my hips
I havent seen it all but I know I've seen quite enough;
Your exocidal taunt of control you hold back so clearly like you hold open a door,
Like the first time dealer to the winning stack with his head thrown back and the light overhead burning his face clear enough for a blind man to see
I'm not dumb, nor lack the will to confront, I'm just lazy.

Mankysam is the solace,
  he wears above-the-law medallions across the barrels of his motor
(
salute to bonjour and the glowing colours
  that crowded the place--walls and a floor--
To a scene. So long to it all I'm going somewhere I've never been next year and that's the end of it.
)
One day will be the last day you and me ever meet mankysam

Today is not that day but I'm gonna make what I get from us last

     atleast for aslong as I can do so

What a joy to live calm lovingly hating everyone as they pass by and feeling no guilt for doing so.

I plan on making things better but I've made no plans yet
I know well enough I'm good enough to do the best I can,
If only for you

Mankysam.

My brain has been broke or breaking for years now I think it's just time to accept the damage is never done until no more can be inflicted,

And I swear I saw getting married but I no longer see anyone now
And I know God themself is capable of crisscrossing people who get too comfortable, so I don't seem to settle in anywhere at all.
But when Sammy gives me the call saying that he's near
I get dressed sharp as a knife and smile
so tall now in the mirror, like deserted grass.
Smile and forget all my stupid little matters.

Well it is like this, NOT ALL LEOS are evolved. just things that seem to be acting like it, or are rogue? seems prison is a threat left for all us who suffer.
YES WE HAVE THE NAMES. AND WITNESSES ARE PLENTY RIGHT? SO, Threats Of PRISON FOR ANYTHING IS ONLY PROOF THAT THERE IS ABUSE BEING TEMPTED.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TBS2tXR8mz8

As the first drop fell on me
I looked up at the black canvas
gathering and rumbling ominously.

But there was supposed to be another
not far
but right over my head
to defend me against the weather
pattering insane
between me and the rain.

Did I by any chance
leave my umbrella here, sir?
I ran to the shopkeeper.

We all suffer this predicament
was his smiling statement
losing grip over our mind
letting things be left behind
and then came the mischievous addendum
as if my trouble had inspired his mood

go for good
once you let them go
woman and umbrella

they never again show.

Fashion rarely looks to the Brit awards for style inspiration but somehow fashion finds its way, in dribs and drabs, to its red carpet. These awards are the unwanted stepchild of the red carpet and generally, this means it’s a bric-a-brac of high-end and high street looks. For every Rihanna in couture you have a Little Mix in Asos.

Such is life, though, and there were legitimate trends, aside from the James Bay/Kylie double hatter. First, in the spirit of Angelina Jolie’s 2012 viral, there was a Right Leg – as flashed by model Lily Donaldson and singer Lana Del Rey. Nightwear came in a rather lavish Miss Havisham-esque form via Florence Welch (cream slip, eiderdown wrap, bed-hair) and Rihanna (a lilac slipdress covered with seashell patterns), and which unexpectedly preceded Alexander McQueen’s autumn/winter 2016 collection. Finally, there was a definite nod to The Wizard of Oz’s Emerald City via Jess Glynn’s sparkling green jacquard suit, Kylie’s backless heels and Jack Garratt’s toned down double-breasted suit.

There were the half-successes, too: Adele’s cascading liver-red dress and matching lipstick was grownup, but compared to her memorable 2013 Valentino hit at the Grammy’s, it felt par-cooked. Singer Charli XCX has been a frow regular at this year’s London fashion week, so she went predictably designer in pale green Vivienne Westwood. But she was let down with her slicked-back hair, a styling addendum that somehow overegged the overall effect. She also looked stiff and uneasy, probably because, at 23, she was too young to pull it off.

The menswear was far more experimental. To wit: Labrinth in a blue and pink orchid-print suit which, unaccessorised, had just enough humour to work (it looked like a box of Cadburys Roses). Mark Ronson did his usual trick of pepping a cleanly cut suit with the odd flourish. This time it was a monochrome dogstooth suit covered with a static print. Even JLS’s Marvin Humes, in a Yves Saint Laurent bomber jacket, epitomised the modern man. And what Carl Barât lacked in pizzazz he made up for by wearing a Hedi Slimane suit (although less said about the James Bay hat, the better).

The misses, of course, were plentiful. The mullet dress is the trend that refuses to die (see Cheryl Fernandez-Versini and half of Little Mix in various synthetic horrors). Alexa Chung rarely puts a brogue wrong, but here in a velvet bustier dress, was fairly forgettable (lesson: don’t step out of your style lane). Then, of course, there was Keith Lemon, who pillaged the misses of awards seasons gone (the Pharrell hat, the pseudo-Gucci blazer … everything really). What did you expect from Keith Lemon? The Brits then: a series of blind taste tests on the red carpet, none of which gets full marks.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com | www.marieaustralia.com/evening-dresses

13)  holy extreme performance-artist who ended badly

14)  aryan/teutonic warrior who somehow got born in judea

15)  misunderstood gay-rights activist

16)  entheogenic bringer of the sacred mushroom rite

17) propaganda figure concocted by the flavians

18) lucifer's spirit-brother

19) maitreya: "the christ consciousness within"

20) hebrew extremist with delusions of grandeur

21) prophet isa bin maryam the great mahdi

22) just another hindu avatar and world-teacher

I stare at my work begrudgingly
Because it has something I want
Potential

Their natural habitats vary widely, as they are an adaptable lot:
Sometimes a sufficiently surreptitious booth in a bar on the main stem,
Poring over a gaggle of Racing Forms,
Perhaps a convenient light stanchion
Just inside the track’s main gate,
Maybe even behind some lectern
Fronting some staid, stately stained glass,
But, in any case, a tout is a tout is a tout,
Their dissertations and dissection of speed ratings and other holy text
Promulgated as gospel truth
(Albeit tinged with a sotto voce touch of the disclaimer,
That nothing can shake its author’s faith
As long as the weather is clear,
The pace not too frantic over the opening quarter)
Though the nuances of sacred writ lead prelate and pundit
To come to quite opposite conclusions as to the race’s outcome
(Indeed, the disagreements can become quite heated)
Leaving the wagering public with little more to do
Than clutch sheaves of pari-mutual tickets
Close to their chests in the manner of rosaries,
Knowing that as their favored mount
Makes its way to the paddock for that final time,
It’s all too likely the tote board will flash “INQUIRY”
In grave and portentous typescripts.

Harold Pinto Beans

I wish I was strong
I wish I was strong enough to get out from under the comfort of my sheets
Or the warm water washing over my body in the shower
I wish I was strong enough to open my books,
Instead of listening to the same five songs again
I wish I was strong enough to get over a loss,
Be it a failed exam or a boss I can’t beat in a video game
I wish I was strong enough to help my friends
Because that's the person I strive to be
I wish I was strong enough to keep that job
…

I wish I was strong enough to like my own works
But it’s hard to when they look like this
No rhyme scheme or metaphors
Only thing this poem has got going for itself is that repeating stanza
Real clever or whatever
You call it slam poetry
But you might as well call it sham poetry
Slam poetry
Because you need to be slammed drunk to enjoy your poems
And don’t even pretend like you didn’t notice
How no one seems to give a **** about this
This series of ‘works’ that you’ve been putting out
Where all you do is ******* swear and shout
At yourself
******* hell

I bet your last line would have been
“I wish I was strong enough to love myself.”
Boo ******* hoo
Too ******* bad
Because you’ll only love me the moment you realize
That what I say is true
I’m not gonna say that I’m only rude
Because I love you
I hate your guts too
much for something so…
Sappy
You’re a bit of a sentimental, right, boo?
If sentimental meant pushover

Criticism!
Sorry, didn’t mean to scare
Oh wait, no, I don’t really care
Because even you’re aware
How you’ve locked yourself in an echo room
And the moment someone tries to break through…
“Don’t worry, I can take it.”
And then you write something edgy like this
You can’t take advice for ****
Because that’s your ******* deal
You’ve got tonnes of people giving you the advice that you need to heal
And you ignore every single one of them
Acquaintances, friends, family
And what about me?
DO I REALLY NEED TO ******* YELL TO GET THROUGH TO YOU

But It’s pointless anyway
You’re on auto-pilot already
Just cut the act and write your cringy addendum poem
We’re done here

This title, this challenge,
Has rested uncomfortably in IPad memory,
Storage unit for Poems Needing Composition,
Unwritten, unanswered, needy for resolution.

Today is a good day to answer.

You are the pause between my breaths,
A ledge to rest on, a stepping stone,
Without you, there is no next one.

You are audience faithful,
Scribbles, wordplay, jokes horrible,
Official Storer/Inspiration Sorcerer of my unending script.

You are shy critic, unwavering,
Deft, with feminine oversight,
Knowledgable proven, when silence, best.

You overfill my AM coffee cup,
The mug that advises sagely,
Be calm in you heart.

You overfill my PM  cup nightly,
Knowing that even tho, can't sing or dance,
I need to, can do, can't do w/o you.

So lest, mistaken grievous,
You think, highly erroneous,
This poem is NOT about me babe,

This poem is entitled,
You,
How Much, Owed,
You.

Lest the answer be poetically muddled,
On this day, perfect weather, perfect clarity,
Unashamedly Everything.


Sept. 15th 2012
In bed, 8:22 am
NYC

---------------
Addendum June 29th 2012
This old soul loves you more. He cannot believe his good fortune,
This June, this one more perfect afternoon, my heart importunes,
Love my poetry like I love thee, and we will have the most
Perfect Union

My friend calls me and tells me that this time around we need to re apply for our jobs after quarantine.
I tell her *******.
You see, I am not joking. I mean it.
I got tired of people treating me the way the want.
Now I will get treated the way I want.

My work place sends me an addendum.
They want to cut salaries despite the fact that we've been working full time despite the pandemic.
I hear it is up to 50%
You see I am a teacher.
When a pandemic happens I still follow my timetable.
I show up and teach, and call or email those that aren't showing up.
And tell them to show up.....
So I say *******.
I cannot sign something I do not agree with.

This guy I used to date started texting me.
He says he hasn't been with anyone because of the pandemic.
He says I am his best option 'right now'
I say *******.
I turn off my data and go to bed.
You see I am no longer available for your entertainment.
I once 'dated' this American white male who told me I wasn't supposed to have an opinion....
I text people I like now..... that really really like me back

When my boss calls me.
She doesn't say hello or check if I am well.
She goes straight off to yelling and screaming.
I say *******.
I turn off my phone and move on with my life.
Because despite falling apart and feeling so lost most days in this pandemic.
I did show up and do my job
So when she learns to communicate, I will talk to her.

I applied for a job, no jobs where they told me..
the problem is my nationality.
Not my papers, experience or inability to perform...
In fact before I told them where I am from, they told I could make a good addition to the team.
Until I turned out African.
So I say ******* when your online course says it will open global opportunities for me.

Because the world is 'woke' now.
African Americans can chant 'Black lives matter'
Their voices are heard and the world chants with them in solidarity.
So this is me whispering
That my Black life matters too....
My voice, my thoughts and opinions matter too....
And hoping the world will hear me too one day
And stand with me in solidarity.....

I'm not angry, I am just fighting for my rights.