You’re a thought half remembered
Finer details seeping and slipping though
The cracks of memory
Never solid, always fleeting

Filling in the gaps
With leaps of logic
Painting in the blanks
With complementary shades

The past never dies
The corpse is repacked
Airbrushed and glossed
So it isn't so hard to look at

No airbrushing there
Lines radiate from the corner of her eyes
And mouth
Mapping
A lifetime of kissing
Weeping
Speaking
She wears her state of mind proudly
On a face
Framed by a stirling mane
Atop a body well lived
No slave to narcissism
She revels in the joys
Of self discovery
For she
Who knows herself
Content
Will never lack mystery

oh they said, plain and simple: Poles are plumbers -
and nothing else. oi! ****! up your yarn ball and twirl!
i better side with a **** than side with a little
ballerina dance of misanthropes - at least i took to fancy
heaving the aged people toward a humanitarian aid of
euthanasia while you just ended up
debating the worth of whale blubber, leaving your
old people ****-soaking their underwear: hey! applause!
you're a bit of a ****, don't you know?
two-faced ****-face, i'll make sure the Scots correct that.
better still, when you get a Caitlin ***** writing,
make sure i mention how my father experienced being spat on,
me too, aiming, hit the spot, oh poo poo poo'e was
dabbled in saliva... hell.. alright mate... kitted out
hair gel... come on, let's dance! yeah, the eastern European
vibe... hard to make a capitalist citizen into a pauper;
harder to make them communist... they just love the association
of eastern Europe being synonymous with plumbers...
psst.... apparently they're the "enlightened" ones...
back catalogue crosschecking with India...
the reply? like **** they are. well, that's sorted...
little feminist paraphernalia of glued thumbs to t.v. -
swipe swipe blue... swipe swipe red...
             mind the traffic, it's important.
she pretends she's cool but then writes the ultimate
faux pas... a bit like eating with spoon and knife
than a fork and knife...
                                        what a real treason,
a cultural faux pas... apparently i'm her highness'
colonial subject... i've learned enough from Prussians,
from Russians and from Austro-Hungarians...
i'm not quiet ready for lessons in *******-in-a-monkey-wrench
by the English... i have Napoleon to thank...
you obviously don't thank him, Wellington and
Trafalgar Sq.... but **** me, your ******* raw-hot
in Rotherham... you teach me one more ******* time
i'll teach you for the last time...
                what a faux pas though! and she's there
celebrating reaching a journalistic status from a humble
abode... then she writes the ultimate faux pas...
yeah, we're all plumbers and potato farmers!
         never mind the Irish... oh wait...
you learned too much from the H'americans,
it's all one hamburger two hamburger with you in yo-yo mode...
sauerkraut - yeah, that differentiates us from
the islanders on the flat-lands... the coleslaw sour;
i hate western journalism,
first of all they think they're notable,
then they start shaking when socialist media
involves people...
then they think everyone on the internet is
mad...
              can someone please spell out the word
W A N K E R S to these people?
         i'm more in favour of middle eastern dictators
than their airbrushing of what's never going to be
said as a perfect life: i just call it: Saddam Hussein in Sudan...
and the argument is over.

This whole connection
Turned out to be a misfortune
A misfortune that I saw in my dreams

My dreams are
The only true inspiration
Drifting my life away

Always getting a
Head start on
The end

Patches of lies hover  
Overhead; turning, transforming, and ironically
Never meeting the criteria

Focusing intensively  
Never seemed
So helpless
To me

Airbrushing the ego
Rapidly before we
Overturn a mirage

Airbrushing history, with genuine sable.
Spilling drops of colour,upon the kitchen table,verdant green, scheme of things.
Pictures of such pretty stuff.
Built of rocks, fragmented clay.
Remnants curing yesterday.
Taste of ham and wild boar, upon the streets the courtyard *****.
Mysteries from history,underground culture, scavengers, vultures. Astounding,unearthed, rebirthed.
Revelations, handle carefully.
Secret lives exposé, book of secrets out to play.
Books fall open, trembling as poplars do, cutting clouds in ribbons strands.
Grasping past lives with both hands.
(c) Livvi

the children
how they love
their self
harming dog

you’ll be here tuesday
a stop on your tour
already calling your stragglers
to line up at your door

the obscene and depraved
they're coming out in droves
to bow at your feet
and **** on your toes

your new photos look expensive
it must have taken all the money you saved in those jars
they really did a great job
airbrushing out the scars

i hope you’ll have some time for me
don’t need much
lunch and some laughs like the old days
before you lost touch

we can go back to that Cuban place
where the waitress was so rude
it ****** you off when she inquired
why you are always with a different dude?

the look you gave her was precious
definitely instilled fear
also cost effective-
she didn’t charge us for the beers

Airbrushing
Their September shadows  
Upon this playground

older beginnings,
newer endings
airbrushing
our former selves
reconfigured shadows
painted in our likeness,
perverse substitutes
for who we once were
inside

with each subtle layering,
we forge expectations
of unreality
patterning behavior
to society's desires,
but what of the integrity
that underlies
the gross insincerity

do we fabricate
perpetual lies
to belie ourselves
and so assume  
the carnivalesque expression,
the idealized deception
of what we classify
as real
or do we rupture
the glass mosaic
recapture the marred
face beneath, the beauty
behind
our beast

New vibrant and muted colors
Combinations we've yet to encounter
Always after a storm
A four letter word
Beauty with thorns
Wish you could be adorned with both
without out any harm
Roses and Rainbows ( 4 times)
Reality isn't always pretty
Neither is airbrushing

C@rainbowchaser2021

airbrushing
autumn young
their
September shadows  
upon
the
children's playground

No airbrushing or unnecessary nips and tucks
No extreme measures no matter which celebrity is touting it
Taking good care of oneself is a must
Plain Janes and Joes have arrived
Alive
You live on the other side of the camera
The **** Tube and UTube have emerged in many forms and facets
Real and Reality have emerged to become
imperfect perfection

C@Rainbowchaser2021