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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s advice that chimes with that of Anya Hindmarch. "I love the idea of wearing a super-simple Comme des Garçons jacket and a white shirt with a really fun bag to mess it all up a bit." It’s a failsafe formula for dressing your way to happiness.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses

Slouched atop the bookshelf resting his fluffy head
against much loved Rudyard Kipling's finest.
He watched the day to day stories of King Anthony
'The child ruler of the world' and his beloved younger sister Anya.

Avoiding arguments downstairs in the dying segments of daylight,
the boy's reassurance to Anya showcased rare moments of humanity
not seen by Little Weissel's beaded eyes since occupied Holland.
Amongst his stuffing was still memories of his first best friend,
in which many a day was spent quietly hiding away,
listening to the sound of boots roaming around the house.

King Anthony reached his hand out in full view of the aged bear's face
and plucked him from his perch.
As warm as the bear felt to him, he felt to this plush relic, whose eyes
would dilate in the melt of such moment if only they could.
From his arms passing down to her trembling ones;
she was looking for solace in the wake of mother and father's quaking
voices in the kitchen.

For Little Weissel it seemed like 'what was old is new again'
and now after spells after neglect he was experiencing a second
lease of life.
As the war downstairs fizzled out into quiet evening, King Anthony and Anya were locked together, both tenants of sleep with
Little Weissel just as lovingly clung to as the first moment he'd been clutched.

Maybe in the new harsh terrain, the scabby mass of the little bear
could once again feel the need to be needed as any good plaything deserves to be.

There is the latent hum of some probably-industrial sumthin-or-another in the distance. Sounds like a ferry at dock, or the Townsite mills characteristic hum of eternity as it once acted as the forever-whitenoise of my past life in Powell River.

Sasha has gone to see her friend a floor down. I sit candidly at her desk typing these words on her MacBook Pro.. her dorm is an ambient water of a place, but with every passing night I spend in it, it becomes harder and harder to fall asleep. The bed feels like wood board or padded cement now. Sasha rolls around in her sleep, occasionally choking on her tonsils and gagging a prolonged operatic note of snores. It's not like she can help it.. often, she talks about removing her tonsils as if it's something she can do with a spare moment between classes.

The dorm was easier for me to inhabit when I imagined her living quaintly and quietly without my constant everywhereness.. on her first night alone in bed, she slept like a baby and the overheating, I'm sure, was less to bear in my absence as there wasn't a ******* furnace spurning mammalian blood to every antipode of my body for the sake of staying alive.. just her capillaries attending to the night-shift and leaving no feedback loop between our ***-drenched thermostats. There was a feeling of otherness to it that I could warm my soul with as if I were people-watching at a mall filled with everyone I've ever encountered in the matrix.

She's beautiful. Sasha, I mean. Superstitious despite her attempts to claim otherwise, but of a massive intelligence often unspoken and endowed with a linguistic nature that can speak regardless of words. Highly suspicious of some perceived bond between Anya and I that can't seem to be severed, and playfully dousing suspicions of general infidelity into many of our brink-night conversations.. I can't say I do much to remedy her paranoia as I always kick it back with consistent jokes of having '30 girlfriends' or 'that was what the girl I ****** the other night said as well! Trippy.'

These are obvious jokes. I would never cheat on her and it's a pain to have her imagine I would.

Christ be honest, I can never find the time to write anymore because I keep pretending I'm busy. I keep glassing my eyes apart with coffee and **** and feeling the inner sting to write and write and write until my fingers are bruised and my entire demeanour is nothing more than an existence in pure, floating consciousness of sleet-covered panic attack self-immoliating itself in a Wal-Mart parking lot just to say hiya, Good God, how's the cloud of idolatry today? Fleeting? Empty? Shat? I'm starting to think you have the shorter end of the stick cuz I'm pretty sure I've found the Kingdom of Heaven and it's all a bunch of beautiful panic remedy exacterbated by SSRI psychedelic depersonalization with a life-wish disguised as a death-wish to push the envelope for mails sake, cuz I've got a message for the human race and all it says is 'humanity is not a RACE chill the **** OUT and become the human pace for the sake of nil planet without a plan you aren't a ******* poster-boy you're a poser' all very stone-cold thoughts in a volcano.. all very valid but pointless semantic gestures towards Finnegans Wake and the sequel I'd like to write called Finnegans Nap.

The other day, I stole a book from the university library.

I had a freelance article I had to start and preferably finish that same day, and Sasha had decided to skip psychology for Charles Bukowski so we scouted a quiet space on the windowsill overlooking the perpetual busk of student body.. I plugged my laptop in and sourly gazed at the flakey subjects I had to choose from until I noticed we were right next to a giant section entirely dedicated to the study of the Beat Generation. I picked out the closest book, and dove up on some academic diatribe about the implementation of Timex making watches an affordable commodity during the post-war boom, causing economy to become totalitarian in its accuracy and thus mental hegemony. It worked its way into stating that Jack Kerouac's On the Road was a blatant and concise rebellion against this form of timekeeping in its hedonic, careless flow that was not marked by 6 o'clock or on-the-dot redundancy.. the subject matter being so dense and alluring, I turned to Sasha and said, 'I have to steal this book.'

She chuckled a little, being a chronic kleptomaniac herself, and retorted, 'are you sure you can do that? They have these sensor things that go off when you leave.. they'd catch you probably.' In my mind, I was needing to exorcise myself of Judaeo-Christian morality so as to guarantee a survival and thriving intellectual feed regardless of red-tape or monetary symbolism.. I saw myself adapting to a hedonic habit of robbery for the sake of food and freedom or some such half-witted excuse like that, and took Sasha's warning as a challenge to transcend my typical moral comfort zone.

Glassy-eyed, I asked Google how I'd go about bypassing the security scanners and, lo and behold, within 5 minutes I had my answer and was already digging through the books binding with my house-key to remove the magnetic strip hidden in the spine. After 10 minutes of exhilaration and anxiety at potentially being caught, the strip was out and jammed between two loose wood-boards in the window sill. I told Sasha we should try to leave.

As I neared the scanner, I let go of consequence in remembrance of my mortality, the blank expressions on our faces probably hinting at some form of degenerate nervousness had someone decided to analyze us aaaaaand yet.. we made it through as safe as a bird through an open window then out the other side.

Something about her
Shines without even trying
And everyone sees.

o·cean
ˈōSHən/Submit
noun
a very large expanse of sea, in particular, each of the main areas into which the sea is divided geographically.

Fitz
Fritz
Fido
Sandy
Spencer
Chaplain
Bernard
Jesse
Snoopy
Charlie
Charles
Fred
Freddy
Bones
Remmy
Ren­a
Reno
Tony
Julian
Julie
Frisco
Meghan
Addison
Robby
Buddy
Rudy
F­riedrich
Fredrick
Bernie
Rudolph
Adolf
Ferdinand
Rose
Cassie
Cassidy
Lee
Balto
Little *****
Allen
Alvin
Jake
Demi
Randy
Alex
Richard
Alexis
Kenneth
Ken­ny
Chris
Jose
Josey
Rodger
Moe
Joe
Emilio
Walt
Emily
Emma
Maddie
­Anna
Jafar
Aladin
Jasmine
Genie
******
Amber
Gracie
Ramen
Gordy
G­ordon
Jordie
James
Bucky
Huff
Manny
Sam
Samantha
Mary
Marie
Tila
­Rita
Cathy
Tammy
Mickey
Cam
Amelia
Rene
Jeb
Dan
Bagel
Tommy
Donut­
Bubbles
Blossom
Buttercup
Mark
Cody
Andy
Cristo
Andrea
Whiskers
­Mike
Bill
Billy
George
Geo
Joy
Mitch
Trigger
Tigger
Stephen
Archi­medes
Anya
Duncan
Nitro
Crash
Bub
Crystal
Egor
Bernadette
Cammy
T­immy
Antonio
Natasha
Natalia
Ivan
Abbey
Abdul
Carly
Aaron
Omega
F­inn
Nina
Debby
Tomato
Tabby
Artie
Archie
Noah
Kyle
Alfie
Alfred
Conrad
Conner
******
G­unner
Fry
Fries
*******
Constance
Connie
Frank
Fran
Candice
D­andy
Lucy
Lou
Louis
Quincy
Doogle
Dubie
Dakota
Ace
Casey
Barry
Te­rry
Trenton
Gabe
Laurie
Cornelius
Kabob
Sky
Skylar
Rufus
Louie
Ba­rton
Kimmy
Angel
Capri
Basil
Cy
Ruby
Emerald
Eleanea
Elenor
Barth­olomew
Jazz
Dreamer
Thunder
Topaz
Amethyst
Salsa
Meril
Dodo
Toto
­Eric
Barbera
Hannah
Katie
Zoey
Ben
Pinto
Squanto
Columbus
Columbo
Porgy
Bess
Clark
Savannah
Ken­dra
Marco
Leise
Toby
Trevor
Tresten
Treven
Adrienne
Caleb
Carlyn
­Ricky
Gibby
Donny
Han
Solo
Hans
Gabby
Dirk
Spot
Sebastian
Dee
Sco­oby Doo
Shaggy
Polly
Reginald
Burger
Steak Sauce
Ethan
Bradberry
Lucky
Fergie
Cheese
Boxer
Napoleon
Snowball­
Gerald
Jeremy
Benji
Gemma
Pal
Mal
Preston
Jack
Jackson
Molly
Mac­kenzie
Alexie
Alicia
Dora
Olivia
Salvador
Beast
Beauty
Oliver
Dal­e
Rim
Marley
Diego
*****
Bobby
Ralston
Zeke
Rooney
Plato
Cole
Nep­tune
Sailor
Frida
Rico
Dali
Veronica
Victor
Copeland
Swift
Riley
­Tubs
Lassie
Yo-yo
Harvey
Lemonade
Coke
Pepsi
Tanya
Camille
Token
­Laser
Beam
Seamus
Dorthy
Ian
Moby

I am that little destroy toy.
Anya Anyway.
I am a little annoy boy.
Stuck in heavy discomfort all day.

When you scroll down, do you like anything?
When you get down, you do miss something?
Anyway.
Fighting, rushing.
Tightening feeling.

Do you want to be seen?
To be happy?
Cause you're learning so much more in the dark night scene!
Now you're ******!

Destroy toy.
Filthy.
Rotten.
Skum.
Absolutely ******.

I am a little destroy toy.
Anya anyway.
You are a little annoy boy.
Underneath you are so miserable everyday.

When you come up with this nonsense to cover your misery.
I'd like to cover it with mistery.
But I'm angry too often.
And you're kind.
So never mind.
Anyway...

Let's learn in the dark night scene.
And come completely clean, what is it that you really mean?

I am that little destroy toy.
Anya Anyway.
I am a little annoy boy.
Stuck in heavy discomfort all day.

I love ma besties,
Anya nd Vorne,
They make me laugh nd smile
They are beautiful and great,
They are like my sisters and
We don't let Anything or Anyone get in our way of our friendship
We will be besties till the End,

night seeps
through the window
dispelled by cracks in the pane
where she sleeps
nestled within my hearts hollow

love weeps
beneath the door
along the stained wood
where she keeps
her heart beneath the floor

it beats
unburdened by two
lives, she lives in mine
and completes
love beyond what is you

All the pieces
     Of myself
I never quite
     Understood,

Indescribable
     To those who've never seen
The colors of a night
      Never long enough.

Look at me! Bejesus! Flattened-plane-Earth's-marginally-Catholical mommy Mary: madre de Holy Princely Rex Christus Jesus, please
see: My troubled Kent babified doll Marie just deliberately infected
me with the ravenously-bacterial, cutaneous diphtheria that she got
in an ***** den hovel in filthy, broken-down Constantine, Algeria.**
Marushka Anya the pull along the thighs brings the space into view
of the maternal honeycomb where-from, your Mother, emerged you
in '98, upon no-man's Patagonian land that skirts Chile & Argentina
where no Java maids milk foal ******* at coal tipples in Micronesia

Anya sings words I would
rather she have not spoken
and decimates what little remained
between us all.

He looks to me and I
pointblank-sawnoffshotgun refuse
to meet sight of sapphire sky eyes
now too singing along
to her song.

My mother always said
you were two sides of the same paper
and you will both slice me the same.

But scissors always win;
laceration's chorus croons to all.

Origami smiles
so carefully cultivated as
I kindle our final swansong,
a celebration in flames -

simultaneous ignition of
friends to lovers
and that irrevocable rendering; razing
lovers to ash.

The glitz and glamour of the fashion world descended on the city once again as Oxford Fashion week returned for its 10th season.

Models strutted their stuff on the catwalk at the Town Hall on Friday evening as the crowd saw shows from 12 designers.

Champagne flowed at the after party, where a raffle and silent auction were held in support of Oxfordshire Youth – the county's charity for young people.

The show was intimate, with just three rows of seating surrounding the catwalk.

Carl Anglim, the director of Oxford Fashion Studio, said: "Oxford has its own character and charm and we try to bring that to every show we do."

Anya Conlon, the face of this year's fashion week, modelled a dress at the after party which was donated by famous designer Omar Mansoor.

Many of the models attending the party wore their looks from the runway for guests to more closely see the intricate designs.

The 6pm show featured independent collections and ready to wear designs from high street boutiques and retailers.

Highlights included shows from two masters graduates sponsored by Jericho fashion shop Olivia May – Constance Blackaller and Katie McGuigan.

The 8pm show was titled Concept + Couture and displayed eccentric collections from prominent local designers.

Dumpster Design created a dress made entirely of discarded materials from Oxfordshire Youth while Caterina *******debuted her colourful Homage to Camouflage collection for her Kraken Counter Couture studio.

Ms *******incorporated her 'K sizing system' in to her designs, which is uniquely tailored to transgender individuals.

She said: "To me it didn't seem new. I felt like somebody should be doing it.

"Its something that I'm very proud to do – I have many friends and family in the LGBT community."

Gender fluidity was a theme throughout the night as the Crease show sent several male models down the runway in women's coats and dresses.

Model Luka Nikolic said: "I think 2016 is the year for gender fluidity.

"If you're a man wearing women's clothing or a woman wearing men's clothing you can't say that's wrong."

A surprise attendance was made by designers Dylan & Izzy, who are featured on the BBC show All Over the Workplace.

The show, hosted by Alex Riley, shows children the inner workings of different workplaces and this week the children tried their hand at fashion design.

The Town Hall extravaganza marked the end of fashion season, with fashion weeks in New York, London and Milan starting again in early 2017.

Mr Anglim said: "Many of our designers will go to London, New York and Paris, but our favourite thing to do is come home to Oxford."Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses

Events and Time

I guess my feelings don’t really matter, that I don’t need anyone by my side when I’m down or upset or depressed. Don’t you know I’m just like anyone else? Though I’m different I’m just the same inside don’t you see? Do you know how hard it is to live alone and not have anyone to care for you? And when I meet someone who I thought was special, to let her in and trust her and slowly show her my world, bit by awkward bit.

Like when I met Anya in the pub we got on so well, she wore the same religious symbol as me, a pentagram, carried the same ink on her skin, tattoos and likes the same music, alternative. We had two weeks of fun, ending my 13months of being alone. Too fast she said, Nick, you’re moving way too fast, now it’s over. In the gulf of her silence I was so affected but I knew the truth.

When I heard the gunshots and saw a man dying I wanted Anya to be there for me, I was alone. Saw evil on my own streets, not wanting to be there and a witness to such random horrific events. Silly little boys armed with 9mm pistols thinking they’re something selling drugs and being in gangs, will they ever learn? They should have heard the widow’s screams. Oh that would teach them.

My life will move on, very different now. Anya taught me to not let anyone in though I’m still her friend and don’t hate her. After seeing the ****** I promised never to hate again or to carry a weapon, not even defensive. Sometimes events happen and come together, that week for me was like no other. It was all an awful fairytale with wicked people and tragedy beyond belief. And still I wrote and did my open mic readings; life must go on even in darkness, an illusion smoke and mirrors.

Still I ask who will be there for me when silent screams wake me in the deep of night. Will I forget what I saw? Will anyone ever find me, my soulmate does she exist??

Mi az ördög történt, gondoltam ott
és akkor; felderengett előttem egy tengerpart,
amit már nem látogatunk meg, de te
csak tovább ontod magadból a bullshitet
egy írógép lélekölő kattogásának ritmusára
a sajnálatodat egy piros kupaknak látom
hófehér homokszemek rengetegében, jézusom,
mennyire lassan telik az idő így a huszonnegyedik órában
hát nincsen benned semmi kétség? atyaég,
de utálom jó ideje ezt a szobát,
csak ne lenne ilyen szűk a komfortzóna
a te szavaid visszhangozza a koponyám csendje
s én a döbbenettől felnevetek: emlékszel még?!
nincsen ennek semmi értelme, milyen jó anya lennék,
mondod; az olasz riviérán hunyorogtam volna a messzeségbe,
ha nem dobod el magadtól a lehetőségét
istenem, te-nem, te nem tűntél ilyennek ezelőtt
- és mi lenne igaz azután, hogy még te is, aki
kötelet fontál velem a távolságból, te
elengeded a végét és nézed, ahogy zuhanok
megmentettelek volna önmagadtól is, ha hagyod
ránk nehezedni a boldogság súlyát, akartad?
valaha is, vagy nem is, de bevallhatod, hogy találtál mást
felveszlek a földről és recéid számolom
szénné égett valóságok között ficánkoló remény,
amit a beléd vetett hitem táplált, mióta
egy kurva nagy találkozásból születtünk újra
milyen üresen tátong a tér a fátyol mögött
lassan csordogál medrében a néma odaadás,
ahogy távozni készülsz még utoljára, kedvesen
szólsz hozzám, ne veszítsük el egymást, kataklizmám
voltál s leszel az örökkévalóságig, hisz tudod, de én
már csak a vállad fölé képzelem óvatosan
nem fáraszt többé a gondolat, hogy te is el -
hagysz, amint a nap felbukkan sivár léted
általam felvirágoztatott hajnalán.

anya is the best shes better than the rest she puts me to the test and never wants to rest we come to school we never want to fool we love to dance we never grance we hate to fight or we might break the most inportant thing in our lives being friends                    luv uew maree xoxo mwah!!! ;)

"I'm half-assing this,
which, to me, is a sign
that I don't care enough.
So now, if you'll excuse me."

With that, she walked out of the room and turned the corner.
The five of us sat around the table in sheer disbelief, laughing.

"Miss! Wait.
Your level of honesty is quite commendable,"
said his Honor between breaths.
"You're more honest with us than I am with myself.
You're hired."

I wasn't sure how serious he was.
I don't think any of us were, even him.
A moment later, she came back around the archway and stood under the keystone with her arms crossed. A nice effect, one might comment.

"Nice effect,"* said I.

There was a glare. I know that glare..

"When do I start?"

"When will you care to?"

There were several seconds of silence.

"I think this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship, your Honor."

"I hope you're right. For both our sakes."

Without skipping a beat, she retorted that
"hope is a sign of vulnerability, your Honor."

"Vulnerability can be a sign of courage, young one,"
came our familiar voice of wisdom, equally on tempo.

"Yeah!" Said I.

A smirk cracked the veil of her face.
Where have I seen that face..

"I care to begin right now."

"It pleases the counsel to hear that, miss.."

"Anya. That's all you get.
Now, let me see to the spectacle.."
She walked back out the room, turning the other corner.

My heart grew heavier the instant it clicked.
I knew I knew that face. ***** be crazy.
"Oh, *******," I told myself. "It's her!"
"I know!" I replied.
*"This oughtta be good."

I'm nostalgic for a time that's not yet over,
The low hum glow of my phone,
Playing a new,
Chill band I found on Youtube at 3am.

Car ride,
With music blasting my eardrums,
While the shadows of trees cast on my face,
And warm air caresses my cheeks.

My hand on the wheel,
Of my mothers subaru,
Driving through school parking lots.

Lying on the grass,
Looking at the lake,
The sun sets,
And I experience a calm like no other.

"Hi!" I wave,
Another party,
New faces,
Music,
Friends.

More drives,
More music,

I pray this never ends

Cool day,
Sitting in this dressing room
Girls attack me with fits of laughter,
Begging for jokes,
For stories.
Asking me for anything,
To make them feel valued.
"My dad is horrible"
"My parents are divorced"
"I heard Anya cuts herself"
I give them advice,
Pretend that I'm wise,
Even though I'm trying to figure it all out myself.

Dark,
Stars,
Chill,
Night.
Sitting on swings,
Talking to you,
About our entire lives.

I'm nostalgic,

For a time thats not yet over.

But I'll be so devasted when it is.

obim,
the most beautiful thing about loving you
are the things i learn about love;
how it can be synonym for wings
and how loving the right woman
was a metaphor for flying, higher
than all the hurdles that used to be a blockade

igosirim na ihu n’anya bu ije
you taught me that love was a journey
and one with purpose
so that it explained a reason
for holding on to life
when difficulties scatter all over
like question marks on a blank sheet
the love we shared became the answer
that explained the destination
at the end of the obscure roads that life was

obim, loving you made me into a philosopher
that searched for optimism
in the unlikeliest of places which turned out
to be the most beautiful

because everything becomes beautiful around you
and when we are out together at night,
I see the face of hope, redressed
in the twinkle stars far up in the sky
when we walk around the parks in the evening,
I perceive music in the chirping of crickets
when we hold hands as we walked together
and you press mine, I feel myself melting into you

it is not that the problems of life go away
sometimes, they come knocking on my door
dressed in their intimidating doses
then I remember, it is you who shares this path with me
and that love is a synonym for wings
and loving you, a metaphor for flying past hurdles
so I fasten my seatbelts and fly
obim, loving you is a safe journey through these rough roads.

old stories
are always
morphing

and history
comes to life

in her mystical
too wide eyes

crystal *****

the strange beauty
has no color and
cannot be named

although someone tried

to capture her
in a name to

make her final

but she is too
many people

too incomplete to be
called anything

from the Harris-Walz front
where liberal minded socially progressive
electorate doth agonizingly grunt
targeted in crosshairs scoped out
eager and ready to be mortally wounded
courtesy notorious big headed
(and bigoted) infamous
for bearing arms
as if going on a hunt
as attested to him and recorded for all of posterity on March 14, 2019 at 3:05 EDT by Analysis colunist Philip Bump, (a national columnist for The Washington Post; before that he led political coverage for The Atlantic Wire. One of the paper’s most read writers, he focusses on the data behind polls and political rhetoric), he recorded one of the most famous and insightful lines Donald Trump offered on the campaign trail in 2016 came during a stop in Iowa, shortly before that state’s caucuses.
“I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody and wouldn’t lose any voters, okay?” Trump said, mimicking firing a gun with his fingers. “It’s, like, incredible.”

"Blast it!!" I am gunning for the glib gal
versus MAGA sugar daddy
gesticulating his arms akimbo,
whose lowball unflattering unprintable
pet phrases for Kamala
indicative of a short, and nasty brute,
whose vile (hints) might be excusable
if he suffered epileptic seizures grand mal
drops names of ruthless dictators as his pal,
who sport trademark coiffed hirsute
allocating, designating, ginning, jumpstarting,
and mandating excessive monetary resources
for his poofed hair courtesy project 2025
and then when confronted becomes immediately mute
and does a spot on rendition of Marcel Marceau
engaging in ******* with a *******.

"Arms akimbo" is an adjective or adverb that means having your hands on your hips with your elbows turned outward. For example, "She stood there akimbo". The word "akimbo" comes from the Middle English phrase in kenebowe, which means "at a sharp angle". The word was first recorded between 1375 and 1425, and may come from the Old Norse phrase i keng boginn, which means "bent into a crook".

After watching some
of the Democratic National Convention,
mainly the first and second nights,
I felt tears of joy rapture
welling up inside me
after listening to such
brilliant, fantastic, nuances
sounding out monologues
utilizing English language
to maximize stellar oratory,
which lengthy list of speakers follows suit:

On Monday, delegates heard from former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, first lady Jill Biden and the president himself.

Tuesday's session featured addresses from former President Barack Obama, former first lady Michelle Obama, Sen. Bernie Sanders, Illinois Gov. JB Pritzker and others.

Wednesday night heard from former President Bill Clinton, Gov. Josh Shapiro, former Speaker Nancy Pelosi and Walz.

Here's the full speakers list for Thursday:

Minyon Moore, chair of the 2024 Democratic National Convention Committee
Invocation by Everett Kelly, national president of the American Federation of Government Employees, and Imam Muhammad Abdul-Aleem of Masjidullah Mosque of West Oak Lane, Pennsylvania
Presentation of Colors by the Illinois State Police Honor Guard
Pledge of Allegiance by Luna Maring, a 6th grader from Oakland, California
Rep. Veronica Escobar of Texas
Becky Pringle, president of the National Education Association
Randi Weingarten, president of the American Federation of Teachers
Sen. Alex Padilla of California
Marcia Fudge, former secretary of Housing and Urban Development
Rep. Ted W. Lieu of California
Sen. Tammy Baldwin of Wisconsin
Rep. Katherine Clark of Massachusetts, House Democratic Whip
Rep. Joe Neguse of Colorado
Mayor Leonardo Williams of Durham, North Carolina
Rep. Raja Krishnamoorthi of Illinois
Sen. Bob Casey of Pennsylvania
Sen. Elizabeth Warren of Massachusetts
Rep. Jason Crow of Colorado
Rep. Elissa Slotkin of Michigan
Rep. Pat Ryan of New York
Rev. Al Sharpton
Members of the "Central Park Five": Dr. Yusef Salaam, member of the New York City Council, and activists Korey Wise, Raymond Santana and Kevin Richardson
Amy Resner, former prosecutor and friend of Harris
Karrie Delaney, director of Federal Affairs at the ****, Abuse & ****** National Network
Lisa Madigan, former attorney general of Illinois
Marc Morial, president of the National Urban League
Nathan Hornes, former student at Corinthian Colleges
Tristan Snell, former New York State assistant attorney general
Gov. Maura Healey of Massachusetts
Courtney Baldwin, youth organizer and human trafficking survivor
Deb Haaland, secretary of the interior
John Russell, content creator
Rep. Maxwell Frost of Florida
Rep. Colin Allred of Texas
Joint remarks on "A New American Chapter": Anya Cook, Craig Sicknick, Gail DeVore, Juanny Romero and Eric, Christian, and Carter Fitts
National anthem by The Chicks
Kerry Washington
Joint remarks by Meena Harris, Ella Emhoff and Helena Hudlin
D.L. Hughley
Sheriff Chris Swanson of Genesee County, Michigan
Rep. Lucy McBath of Georgia, joined by Abbey Clements of Newton, Connecticut; Kim Rubio of Uvalde, Texas; Melody McFadden of Charleston, South Carolina; and Edgar Vilchez of Chicago.
Gabrielle Giffords, former member of the House
Performance by P!NK
Sen. Mark Kelly of Arizona
Leon Panetta, former secretary of defense
Rep. Ruben Gallego of Arizona
Gov. Gretchen Whitmer of Michigan
Eva Longoria, actress and film producer
Adam Kinzinger, former member of the House
Maya Harris
Gov. Roy Cooper of North Carolina
Vice President Kamala Harris.

Shoot! Thar haint no other candidate
within a bajillion miles
worth celebrating with unbridled fête
cuz the other contestant
(hands down) ranks as ingrate
man dragging fetters shrilly mutters,
the opposition mumbles,
no you don't get away with freedom
them words to ****, cuz
against peace mongers
this republic for liberty,
which country stands under
the grateful dead
someone must liberate
the ship of state
one must steadily operate
even courtesy motley skeleton crew
captained, governed, and trumpeted
by weird Wharton wimp
linkedin to leitmotif reprobate
with lips he doth undulate
poisoning the fresh air
and poll looting the audiological
and visual realm of vulnerable listeners
courtesy radio and television waves.

Marushka Anya the pull along the thighs brings the space into view
of the maternal honeycomb where-from, your Mother, emerged you
in '98, upon no-man's Patagonian land that skirts Chile & Argentina
where no Java maids milk foal ******* at coal tipples in Micronesia

She speaks to me in Spanish
Soon to Mexico
Gracias Ms. Anya
Maybe one day I too go

I have been to Ireland
Book of Kells with my sons
Snow pubs in Chicago
In Carolina Born to Run

Read Paul Theroux
Boston to the blind Borges
Trains to Argentina
El Salvador:  who could guess?

Two years in Taiwan
Took the Taipei trains
Now the fight is on
Still never been to Spain

                Poetry
            Good Insane