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Ver Copa del Rey: FC Barcelona vs Elche  En vivo y En Español 8 de  Enero 2015  



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Aaron LaLux Aug 2016
(written backstage after Beyoncé final Formation Tour EU Show)

Gold Bottles

Flew into Barcelona,
en route to Portugal,
after two weeks in Budapest,
and one week in Milan,

Milan was for a lover,
Budapest was to relax,
Portugal is business,
and Barcelona was for fate,

had no idea Beyonce was performing,
her last show of the Formation tour,
so I went to her show after the Picasso museum,
walked right in no need for a pass,

went on stage,
watched the show,
got off the stage,
and said hi to Jay,

Jay Z was popping’ gold bottles,
yeah you know Ace of Spades,
and yeah I know,
that might sound a little cliche,

but hey,

it is what it is,
and I am what I am,
Jay had his classic Yankee Blue colors on,
I was wearing my tattoos,

the music had been so loud,
everything seemed so loud,
inside    and    out,
please pass me the champagne,

the glass,

Life’s such a trip,
I’m not even sure it’s real,
it’s like I went to sleep when I was a teenager,
and I woke up in my dreams,

I swear,
I could wake up tomorrow,
this could all be gone,
and I wouldn’t even be surprised,

in fact,
one day I will wake up tomorrow,
and this will all be gone,
and I will not at be at all surprised,

for now though,
I’m wide awake in this American dream,
and I can feel everything except for myself,
I eat but I’m not hungry I drink but I’m not thirsty,

sure I’ll drink that champagne,
Ace of Spades what a name,
maybe then I’ll be able to feel something,
maybe then I’ll be able to feel like this is real,


Away from myself,
away from Jay Z,
away from all the eyes and attention,
away    from    this….

This silence,
seems so loud,
it screams so loud,
I’m tearing at the seams I bow,

trying to bow out gracefully,
exit stage left exit stage left,
where is my family where are my friends,
why is this silence all I have left,

on a flight,
from Budapest,
to Barcelona,

Budapest was thermal paths,
and Eastern European women,

Barcelona was Beyonce,
Jay Z and gold bottles,
I’ve gotta to get to sleep soon,
got a flight to Portugal tomorrow,

some sleep,

some time,
I don’t know who I am,
I just know I am not mine,

will touch down in Lisbon,
and be picked up right there,
taken on another tour,
no one said life was quite fair,

no fairy tale endings in the dragon’s lair,

were we,
it seems we’ve gotten off track,
was I,
somewhere with full bags and no place to unpack,

where do you go,
when you’ve gone everywhere else,
where do you find your silence,
how do you fill that void inside yourself,

somebody help,

I’m on a constant worldwide tour,
and everyone thinks it’s great,
people want to take my time and my attention,
but I don’t have the patience and I really hate to wait,

so before I’m even really here,
I’m already gone again,
and all that’s left are these words,
in the form of poems that I send,

like a message in a bottle,
I send from this island across the seas to you,
platinum plaques and gold bottles,
First Class seat I don’t deserve this it’s unbelievable,

flew into Barcelona,
en route to Portugal,
after two weeks in Budapest,
and one week in Milan,

Milan was for a lover,
Budapest was to relax,
Portugal is business,
and Barcelona was for fate…

∆ Aaron La Lux ∆
The Poetry Trilogy

author of The Poetry Trilogy
author of The Hollywood Trilogy
author of The Holy Trilogy

and here's some totally free music as well:

#beyonce #jayz #formation #poetryforever #thepowerofwords
#barcelona #formationtour #worldtour #hiphoppoetry #thelife ∆
Paul Hansford Sep 2018
Many people write a "bucket list" of things they want to do before they die.  Now in my 80th year, I don't have the time or the energy to do things that others might aim for, but I have during my life visited many places, seen many things, and enjoyed many experiences that I would have been sorry to miss. There have also been some events that I would have preferred not to experience, but which have enriched my life in different ways, and which I remember with a kind of sad affection.  
Some of these are very personal to me, and would not be interesting to most people, but read the note if you wonder why I chose them.

Here then is what I might call  
                                                My Reverse Bucket List

Towns and cities – architecture & atmosphere
   Barcelona, Spain
   Venice, Italy
   Oxford, England
   Jerusalem, Israel
   Luxor, Egypt
   Varanasi, India
   Hiroshima, Japan
   Pompeii, Italy

Other locations
   Galápagos islands, Ecuador
   Great Barrier Reef, Australia
   North Woolwich, London

   St Paul's Cathedral, London
   Sagrada Familia, Barcelona
   Coventry Cathedral
   Córdoba Cathedral, Spain
   Blue Mosque, Istanbul

Other structures
   Taj Mahal, Agra
   Auschwitz concentration camp, Poland
   Royal Festival Hall, London
   London underground system (because it was the first, and I rode it for a long time).  Also the more splendid underground railways of Mexico City and Moscow.
   Avebury Ring, Wiltshire, England (the largest prehistoric stone circle in the world, and much more primitive than Stonehenge)
   Bayeux Tapestry 
   "Angel of the North" statue, Gateshead, England
   "Christ the Redeemer" statue, Rio, Brazil

   Messiah at Royal Festival Hall, Feb 1959, with the girl later to be my wife
   St John's night, Spain, early 1990s (?)
   Death and funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales, Aug 1997
   Oberammergau passion play, 2010
   Destruction of World Trade Centre, Sept 2001
I haven't added explanatory notes, but a lot of them are easy enough to look up, and if you message me about any mysterious items, I'll answer as best I can. There are poems in my stream connected with some things on the list, though not all are obvious.
Tim Knight Feb 2013
Over staffed and under fed
Spanish waiters
rush around with
waistcoats of wisdom
wearing black shoes
of sordid shift-work soles.

They greet and speak to every new
tourist, and regular, as if a
brother, sister, mother, second-cousin-twice-removed
stepmother, yet really they are:

the ephemeral fodder of the
cheap, low-cost-airline,

the flash and it’s gone spine of most cities
on the map,

the ‘Sorry, I left it in a Barcelona Café, could I get it back on insurance?’
baseball cap, that most sightseer marionettes wear, back to front,

the standing in line, waiting to complain,
tourists that know nothing of decorum.

So the Spanish waiter served me my coffee
and whispered in my ear,
Disfrutar de su día senor’,
that was,
'Enjoy your day Sir’. >> for more free poetry
gbye Feb 2018
I've been taught that there isn't a place more beautiful than barcelona
The streets are placed with purpose and thought
People mill about with only smile lines gracing their face
The air tastes like citrus, honey, and sea breeze
A paradise I've never known

Sometimes I fear the paradise within it is one I've created
Far from real
And is the product of my own desperation

                      I fear the love in your eyes is barcelona
thoughts from before the sun sets
judy smith Apr 2015
The Pakistan Fashion Design Council in collaboration with Sunsilk presented the fourth and final day of the eighth PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week. Indeed the 8th PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week marked the twelfth fashion week platform initiated by the Pakistan Fashion Design Council [with eight weeks of prêt-à-porter and four of bridal fashion] and was a direct manifestation of the Council’s commitment to sustainability and discipline within the business of fashion and the facilitation of Pakistan’s retail industry. Indeed #PSFW15 endeavoured to define and present trends for 2015, focusing specifically on fashion for the regions’ long hot summer months. Day-4 featured High-Street Fashion shows by the House of Arsalan Iqbal, Erum Khan, Chinyere and Hassan Riaz and designer prêt-à-porter shows by Sana Safinaz, Republic by Omar Farooq, Syeda Amera, Huma & Amir Adnan, Sania Maskatiya and HSY.

Speaking about the PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week platform, Chairperson of the PFDC, Sehyr Saigol said: “With the 12th iteration of our critically acclaimed fashion weeks, the PFDC is always working to streamline our prêt-à-porter platform to make the PSFW experience more beneficial for all stakeholders in terms of show experience, exposure and ultimately, retail value. To that end, each year we look inward to find the best possible formats and categories to benefit the very trade and business of fashion. In this vein, we introduced 3 separate categories for Luxury/Prêt, High Street and Textile at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week, giving each entirely separate show space, times, audience exposure and viewing power. Our High Street fashion brands had been given a standalone show time on two separate days as early evening shows and Textile brands a separate dedicated day for Voile shows on Day 3 of PSFW 2015, a measured step to further highlight Pakistan’s textile prowess and high street fashion strength which are of significant importance to national and international fashion markets. As per past tradition, we continue to work closely with all our emerging designers and mainstream brands to help hone their collections for the runway through mentorship by senior PFDC Council members and with retail support through the PFDC’s own stores and network. We are grateful for the committed support of our sponsors and partners which provides us the stimulus to further enhance our fashion week platforms and put forth the best face of Pakistani fashion on a consistent basis.”

“The Sunsilk girl is an achiever, with an air of enthusiasm and positivity. Great hair can give her the extra dose of confidence so with Sunsilk by her side, she is empowered to take on life. Fashion is very close to this aspirational Pakistani girl making the PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week a highly valued platform for us. We recognize PFDC’s efforts to promote the fashion industry and experienced and upcoming talent alike. Sunsilk has been a part of this fantastic journey for 6 consecutive years and continues to shape aspirations, taking contemporary fashion directly to the homes of consumers and encouraging them to script their own stories of success” said Asanga Ranasinghe, VP Home and Personal Care for Unilever Pakistan.

On the concluding day of #PSFW15, the Chairperson of the PFDC Mrs. Sehyr Saigol also made a special announcement on behalf of the Council and its Board Members, where she shared the Council’s plans to establish Pakistan’s first ever craft based Design District, a multi-purpose specialized facility that would assist in developing and enhancing the arts and crafts industries, which are an integral part of Pakistan’s rich cultural legacy. In addition to being a centre for skill improvement and capacity building, the Design District would also house a first of its kind Textile Museum.

The official spokesperson of the PFDC, Sara Shahid of Sublime by Sara also announced the official dates for the Council’s next fashion week, PFDC L’Oréal Paris Bridal Week 2015 which is scheduled to be held from 15th September to 17th September 2015.

Indeed the success of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week continued to prompt private sector associates to grow in their engagement of the platform to launch new marketing campaigns and promotional activities. To this end, the PFDC’s evolving partnership with Sunsilk grew exponentially this year whereby in addition to their title patronage; Sunsilk also took over the coveted PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week red carpet and the Green Room/Backstage, as sponsors. This extension of their support is indeed a manifestation of the brand’s belief in and commitment to the platform. Also in continuation of their support for the platform, Fed Ex – GSP Pakistan Gerry’s International returned to PSFW as the official logistics partner, offering the PFDC a special arrangement for international designer consignments.

PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 was styled by the creative teams at Nabila’s and NGENTS. Light design, set design, sound engineering, video packaging, choreography and show production from concept to construction was by HSY Events, front stage management by Maheen Kardar Ali, backstage management by Product 021, Sara Shahid of Sublime by Sara as the official spokesperson for the PFDC, logistics and operations by Eleventh Experience and photography by Faisal Farooqui and the team at Dragonfly, Hum TV/Hum Sitaray as the Official Media Partners, CityFM89 as the Official Radio Partners with all media management by Lotus Client Management & Public Relations.

High-Street Fashion Shows

The House of Arsalan Iqbal

The afternoon High-Street Fashion Shows on the final day of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 were opened by leading fashion brand The House of Arsalan Iqbal, who showcased a collection titled ‘Devolution Chic’. Inspired by street art across the world by various artists, European high-street trends and technique of quilting, Arsalan Iqbal garnered personal portfolios of graffitists from myriad urban cityscapes such as London, New York, Tokyo, Barcelona and Cape Town, juxtaposed with some unique in-house created patterns including those of Pac-man, calligraphic flourishes and aqua and tangerine bands and circlets. Based in chiffon, the ensembles were molded into voluminous structured silhouettes including draped tunics, edgy jumpsuits and wide palazzos dovetailed with off-white and ecru charmeuse silk jackets created with a revolutionary quilting process. Along with menswear pieces, the collection also included in-house footwear and jewellery made in collaboration with pioneering Karachi-based street artist SANKI.

Erum Khan

Designer Erum Khan followed next and made her PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week debut with ‘The Untainted Shine’. The collection took its inspiration from the sparkle of twinkling stars, a walk on pearl dew in the morning and the enchanted glow which is produced when “a magic wand” is waved around the body, making it glow in a pearlescent white and exhibiting a jewel themed lustre on the body. With neat and straight structured cuts, Erum had used fabrics such as organza combined with silk, 3D flowers, patch work and antique katdanna in a collection which was based in a white colour palette. Trends highlighted in the collection were high waist skirts to button up pants and sheer long dresses. Acclaimed Pakistani musician Goher Mumtaz and his wife Anam Ahmed walked the ramp as the designer’s celebrity showstoppers.


Following Erum Khan, fashion brand Chinyere showcased its Spring/Summer 2015 High-Street collection ‘Mizaj-e-Shahana’ at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015. An ode to the era of the Mughal royalty and their imperial aesthetic, the collection comprised of modern silhouettes and traditional embellishments with organza skirts paired with cropped tops, angarkha-peplum tops with embellished cigarette pants, sheer knee-length jackets paired with structured digital printed bustier-jumpsuits, diaphanous wrap-around boot-cuts and embellished boxy sleeves with soft A-line silhouettes. Chinyere also showcased ten menswear pieces comprising of waistcoats, jodhpurs, knee-length sherwanis paired with gossamer sheer kurtas. The colours used had been divided into a collection of distinctive Mughalesque pastels and jewel tones. The pastels included the classic marble ivory-on-ivory, the bold black, saffron, gold and ivory. The colour segments also included metallic gold and grey sections, with accents of bronze and black. The jewel tones included jade, emerald, ruby and sapphire.

Hassan Riaz

The concluding High-Street fashion show of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 was presented by Hassan Riaz who showcased his ‘Contained Shadows’ collection. Inspired by the diverse facets of the human soul that explore both the dark and light sides of human nature, taking into account yearnings, desires, and anxieties that make us distinctly human, Hassan had based the collection in summer twill, organza and summer denim in shades of blue and white with a gold accent to reflect upon his inspirations. ‘Contained Shadows’ made use of structured and drifting silhouettes, cage crinolines with corsets and bustiers with distinct trends featuring cropped tops, nautical accents, experiments with transparency and patchworks of metal mixed & matched with flowers.

Designer Showcases

Sana Safinaz

PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015’s evening [rêt shows on the fourth and final day was opened by premier designer label Sana Safinaz. Sana Safinaz’s PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week collection was inspired by monochromatic structured looks with pops of color. The collection was based in luxe fabrics such as kattan, silks, fine silk organza and dutches satin in a colour palette majorly based in black and white with strong vibrant pop infusions.
Key trends being highlighted were the oversized T, constructions-clean lines, simplicity of cuts and effective embellishments.

Republic by Omar Farooq

Following Sana Safinaz, acclaimed menswear brand Republic By Omar Farooqshowcased a collection titled ‘Que Sera, Sera!’ (whatever will be, will be!). Omar Farooq had used a variety of luxe fabrics such as suede, linen, chiffon, cotton, cotton silk and wool silk. A collection for all seasons, the ensembles built upon the label’s signature aesthetics while providing a new take on contemporary menswear. Acclaimed media personality Fawad Khan walked the ramp as the brand’s celebrity showstopper.

Syeda Amera

The third Prêt show of the final day of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 was presented by designer Syeda Amera who made her ramp debut with ‘The World of Sea’. Inspired by love for the enchanting underwater, the collection was based in premium quality organza, jersey, nets and silks with delicate cuts and embellishments consisting of beads, sequins and feathers to reflect the collection’s aquatic theme. ‘The World of Sea’ featured a palette of aqua marine, scupa blue, powder pink, grey blue, tequila sunrise yellow, orange and lagoon green with trends that employed skirt layering, frills and ruffles and flared pants.

Huma & Amir Adnan

Following Syeda Amera, Huma & Amir Adnan showcased a joint collection for the first time at a fashion exhibition. Both Huma and Amir feel that as a couple they share their lives and draw synergies and their collection ‘Symphony’ was an epitome of how two people can revolve around the same concept in harmony, while maintaining their individual distinction. Showcasing both menswear and women’s wear at PSFW 2015, Huma and Amir had used a mix of fabrics, textures and embellishments with a complex collection of weaves, prints and embroideries in silk, linen, cotton and microfiber. The color palette included midnight blue, emerald green, wet earth, aubergine, ivory, old paper, turmeric, leaf and magenta. Key trends highlighted in the collection were long shirts, double layered shirts, printed vests and jackets, textured pants, colored shoes for men and layers of multi-textured fabrics, tighter silhouette, vests and jackets for women.

Sania Maskatiya

Designer Sania Maskatiya showcased the penultimate Luxury/Prêt collection of the evening at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015. This S/S ’15, Sania Maskatiya took audiences on a fashion journey to ‘Paristan’ – a place of fairytale whimsy at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week. With a colour palette ranging from the softest shades of daybreak to the deepest hues of nightfall, ‘Paristan’ was a collection of playful, dreamlike prêt ensembles. Featuring luxury fabrics like silk, organza, charmeuse and crepe, the pieces followed the brand’s signature silhouettes, both structured and fluid. Beads and sequins embellished varied hemlines and multiple layering, all set against captivating scenes of mirth and magic. Motifs ranged from the sublime to nonsensical; friendly mice and naughty elves, clocks and teapots, flowering fields and star-filled skies, princesses and ponies.


Day-4’s finale was presented by acclaimed couturier HSY who showcased a collection titled ‘INK’; a collection inspired by Asia and specifically HSY’s journeys to The Land of the Rising Sun. INK represented the essence of Langkawi, Indonesia, Nagasaki, and Yunnan with natural and indigenous yarns, hand-woven to perfection. The collection featured the traditional dyeing techniques of Shibori from Nagasaki, Batik from Indonesia, and Gara from Sierra Leone infused with mackintosh, saffron, aubergine, eggshell, rosette, indigo and ochre. Created with the scorching sub continental summer in mind, INK channelled versatile hemlines to suit a diversity of younger, older, working men, women and homemakers alike.Read more |
john oconnell Jun 2010
Barcelona in the siesta:
two alien idiots walking
the dry deserted streets
in search of mineral water -
like infants in a land of gentiles.
HeWhoExplores Dec 2018
Leaves crumble under unwashed trainers; silence
He walks along the avenue with hands in pockets,
As street lamps pave the way along the lonely avenue
A Hen Party is sighted; their noisy presence noticed
Out of nowhere a taxi rolls up, a casualty is claimed
He gazes at the midnight stars and smiles
Like a fantasy; a big bubble that hasn’t yet burst
Conversing and gentle laughter picks up at the street corner,
Whilst crowds of hipsters and young people dance and discuss
As Friday nights go; rules are meant to be broken
As this quaint little place provides an escape from it all
With its neon signs and hippy vibes,
Its bonsai trees and chandeliers
Bikes hang from the walls and flower pots roam free
He is greeted by an Ola! and a welcoming smile
A piano sounds from within, a cold breeze chills his neck
He rolls up his collar and enters; silence
onlylovepoetry Aug 2017
the isle meets us gruffly,
ferry over rough seas, meaner winds,
bay size puddling lakes
a/k/a local  flooding,
roads littered with tree debris,
all saying an uncoded message:

"see humans, you come to stay only with my forbearance"

But I know that familiar voice, disguised as nature,
a first derivative of the alpha of that god who comes,
torturing me with requests for forgiveness

I am nature too, I am human nature,
and I too,
am not in a forgiving mood, and one-word reply:


the ugly skies ease off and
next morn,
an August beauty provided

but I am neither assuaged, bought off, forgetting,
address the hiding-in-disguise master of the universe:

"you trifle with us as if we could not count, keep tabs,
and weary be at the newest sabbath carnage never ending

give me storms, keep your glories,
fell trees, drown us, if it pleases,
we are neither perfect nor innocent
but take impotent responsibility

set us not one against the other,
there, here, Charlottesville,
keep your false free choice that
always comes with a wink and nod,
a little nudge, and exclaims of humans doing your work

I light a candle
not to you,
but for you
and be terrified
when I no longer do

Aug. 19, 2017
12:14 pm
ummily Apr 2016
La Ratita Presumida
“... y sentia muy feliz. Pero al terminar, el gato se lanzo sobre ella para comer se la. La Ratita lorgo escaper y aprendio a no fiarse de la aparencias”

Generally speaking, the most romantic matters take place beneath the moonlight. It shone down on the city of Barcelona that night with a certain intention, a mysterious plan. She went out for a cigarette, or a “thought” as she liked to think of it, her soul already marinating in a bottle of cheap, red wine.  She let the moonlight pour its possibilities upon her skin as she exhaled into the night.

It was this recipe:
¾ bottle of red wine,
1 pack of Marlboro Lights,
a pinch of red lipstick and
a dash of moony-mist  

on the dimly lit terrace that started it all.

Just then, a tall, blondish, smart looking guy walked into the room. She felt as though she could see the weight of his brain sitting in his head. Almost visible were the synapses firing within.

He spoke so smoothly, in a comforting, southern accent.
His words cast visions of sunsets,
surrounding her
in an unfamiliar, yet soothing
She drew closer.
His southern spark lit her cigarette and
with that flick of the match,
an immediate magic ignited between them.

They spoke of Matthew Macconaughy, death and anxiety... death by anxiety, art and music and love and lust.


“Just come with me,” he said,  “I’m not expecting anything... we’ll get brunch!” , he said. Ooooooh that’s a mighty word there, “BRUNCH”.

A word capable of bringing this girl,
to her knees
~the birds and the bees~
she left with him.

“You had me at ‘brunch’.”
They took a cab to his shoebox-sized flat in Gracia, “the best neighbourhood of Barcelona by far”. They linked lips, caressed, clutched each other’s flesh and faded into one as the sun began to rise.
                                                           ­   ...
The sun came beating through the dungeon –like windows of the shoebox-shaped room. The laundry hanging outside-as it must in this city- cast shadows across their naked skin. It appeared to be dancing quite joyfully, despite the intensely hung-over state of the two strangers that lay entangled amongst the sheets.
As promised, BRUNCH ensued.  They chatted, and laughed and flirted. They shared secrets that no one else knew.

“I like your brain”, he said.
In the weeks to come they spent every waking moment of each weekend in each other’s company. The rest of the time was spent as the charismatic protagonist in the day dreams of the other one’s mind.  

Hospital General, Sant Cugat Del Valles, Valldoreix, La Floresta, Las Planes, Baixador de Vallvidrera, Peu del Funicular, Reina Elisenda, Sarria, Les Tres Torres,  La Bonanova, Muntaner, Sant Gervasi, Gracia, Provenca,  Passeig de Gracia, Placa Catalunya.

The Trains chugged on
And on
And just remember it’s hard to stop a train...

Gracia -the best neighbourhood in Barcelona- sang like a bird in her ear and a sore thumb pressing its weight into her aching heart.  

Take me Spanish Caravan, yes I know you can...
...I know where treasure is waiting for me
Silver and gold in the mountains in Spain
I have to see you again and again.

Take me Spanish Caravan, yes I know you can.

                                                           ­        ...
That dreaded, dreary morning, the rain beat down. The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plane -Or all over, really.

She helped him stuff his damp laundry
into his star-spangled suitcase,
himself into her...

He came,
she left, and so did he.

*I'd like to see you again
and again.
a short story.

a ghost story.
Diya May 2019
"More than a club"
The reason I fell into the sweet spell of this football club.
Six years ago,
It was kind of
Love at first sight for me with this football club.
I watched one match which sprinkled a new attribute to my life
I became a Barca supporter.
The talents,victories,memories,unity
Legends like
Johann Cruyff, Victor Valdes, Eto, Iniesta,Xavi,Messi,
pique, enrique
and many other players
Have made millions of fans across the world to chant "Visca el Barca" not only
On the nostalgic seats of camp Nou
In the hearts of the global society.

The first season I watched brought them 6 trophies in a single year ..
And I was just on the seventh heaven
Dancing with the clouds of joy
Around me.
After a defeat in one of the crucial match for which they qualified after four years...
Had made my heart weak enough to break easily..
I literally broke down into tears many times today..
My heart has blended with Barcelona
As if a garment woven with threads of love.
This poem sounds normal for a lover writing for her muse.
But my melancholy could only be healed by words spoken by the feeble heart.

(By the way,Congratulations Liverpool, you deserved a win and I appreciate your incredible performance...all lucks for final)
This poem is written to chase away my pain of being expect things but don't get them...this is painful... Atleast I expected a beautiful defeat..a defeat after fighting are more than what you performed yesterday
however, supporting Barcelona gave a new enthusiasm to my life that I cannot express in words...❤
Hope,you come around your defeat and get back to eliminate your mistakes...
Barcelona forever!
I think I bursted out many words..ugh
Is it boring? :(:
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
12 Monkeys
17 Girls
127 Hours
2 Days in New York 2012
2 Days in Paris 2010
2001 A Space Odyssey
A Beautiful Mind
A Bridge Too Far
A Few Good Men
A Single Man
A Perfect Getaway
A Serbian Film
A Very Long Engagement
Absolute Power
Air Force One
Airplane 1
Airplane 2
Albert Nobbs
Alex Cross
Alpha Dog
American Beauty
American Gangster
Amorres Perros
Andy Warhol's Bad 1977
Andy Warhol's ******* 1964
Andy Warhol's Eat 1964
Animal Kingdom
Annie Hall
Apocalypse Now Redux
Apollo 13
Apt Pupil
Bad Company
Bad Education
Badlands 1973
Barton Fink
Before Night Falls
Being Flynn
Beneath Hill 60
Beyond the Black Rainbow
Billy Madison
Biutiful - Spanish
Blade 1
Blade 2
Blade 3
Blade Runner Final Cut
Blades of Glory
Blood Work
Blue Valentine
Broken Arrow
Born on the Fourth of July
Boyz in the Hood
Caddyshack 1 & 2
Career Opportunities
Carlos The Jackal The Movie
Carne by Gaspar Noe - French
Charlie Wilson's War
Chelsea Girls 1966
Ciao Manhattan ft. Edie Sedgewick 1972
Cinema Paradiso
City of God
Clear and Present Danger
Closely Watched Trains - Czech
Corpse Bride
Courage Under Fire
Crazy Stupid Love
Dark Shadows
Dave 1993
Days of Heaven
Dazed and Confused
Dead Presidents
Desperately Seeking Susan
Despicable Me
Die Hard Quadrilogy
**** Tracy
***** Harry
Django Unchained
Dogtooth - Greek
Dracula, Bram Stoker's
Dream House
Drop Zone
Dune Extended Edition
Ears Open, Eyeballs Click
Easier With Practice
Easy Rider 1969
Edward Scissorhands
Empire of the Sun
Encino Man
Enter the Void by Gaspar Noe
Eraser 1999
Eyes Wide Shut 1999
Face Off 1997
Fantastic Mr. Fox
Fast Times at Ridgemont High
Fight Club
Fill the Void
Fish Tank
Five Minutes in Heaven
Flickan 2009 - Swedish
Flubber 1997
Forbidden Planet 1956
Friday 1995
Friday After Next 2002
Frost Nixon
******* Amal - Swedish
Full Metal Jacket
Funny Farm 1988
Funny Games
Fur- An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus
G.I. Jane
G.I. Joe Retaliation
Gangs of New York
Gangster Squad
Garden State
Get Rich or Die Tryin'
Ghostbusters 1
Girl, Interrupted
Glengarry Glen Ross
Gomorra - Italian
Great Expectations 1998
Grindhouse Death Proof
Grindhouse Planet Terror
Groundhog Day 1993
Grumpy Old Men
Grumpier Old Men
Gus Van Sant's Last Days
Half Nelson
Heartbreak Ridge
Hell on the Pacific 1986
Holy Rollers
Honey I Shrunk the Kids
Hyde Park on Hudson
I Am Curious Blue
I Am Curious Yellow
I Heart Huckabees
I Stand Alone by Gaspar Noe - French
If Looks Could **** 1991
I'm Not There
In Bruges
In The Line of Fire
Inglorious Basterds
Inland Empire
Innerspace 1987
Interview With the Vampire
Jacob's Ladder
James Bond - Diamonds Are Forever 1971
James Bond - From Russia With Love 1963
James Bond - Goldfinger 1964
James Bond - Never Say Never Again 1983
James Bond - On Her Majesty's Secret Service 1969
James Bond - Thunderball 1965
James Bon - You Only Live Twice 1967
Jane Eyre
Jeremiah Johnson 1972
Joe Versus the Volcano
Johnny English 2
Julien Donkey-Boy
Just Cause
Kapringen aka A Hijacking - Icelandic
Ken Park
Killing Season
Killing Them Softly
Kindergarten Cop
Krippendorf's Tribe
Kiss the Girls
La Vie En Rose
Last Night
Last of the Dogmen
Leon: The Professional
Leonard Pt. 6
Les Miserables
Lie With Me
Life of Pi
Lions For Lambs
Little Children
Lord of the Rings Trilogy BR Extended
Lord of War
Lost Highway
Love and Other Drugs
Love in the Time of Cholera
Love Liza
Lovers of the Arctic Circle
Mad Max 1979
Mad Max 2 1981
Mad Max 3 1985
Major Payne
Malcolm X
Man on Fire
Maverick 1994
Meet Joe Black
Menace II Society DIrector's Cut 1993
Mesrine 1 Killer Instinct - French
Mesrine 2 Public Enemy - French
Minority Report
Mission Impossible Ghost Protocol
Mister Lonely
Money Train
Moonrise Kingdom
Moulin Rouge
Mr. and Mrs. Smith
****** By Numbers
My Sassy Girl 2008
Naqoyqatsi Life As War
National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation
National Treasure Book of Secrets
Never Cry Wolf
Never Let Me Go
New Jack City
New York I Love You
Night on Earth 1991 - Italian
Not Fade Away
Notes on a Scandal
O Brother, Where Art Thou
October Sky
Olympus Has Fallen
Ondskan - Swedish
One False Move
Out of Africa
Paris Texas Criterion 1984
Passenger 57
Paths of Glory 1957
Perfect Sense
Peter Pan
Philadelphia 1993
Pirate Radio
Platoon 1986
Project X 1987
Quiz Show
Robocop Trilogy
Robot and Frank
Rolling Stone's Gimme Shelter
Romance and Cigarettes
Romeo and Juliet 1996
Saving Private Ryan
Schindler's List
Searching For Bobby Fischer
Secretary, The
Seven Years in Tibet
Sgt. Bilko
Shame 2011
Sid and Nancy
Sin City
Sky Captain and The World of Tomorrow
Sleeping Beauty 1959
Sleeping Beauty 2011
Sleepy Hollow
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
South Central
Spy Game
Stand Up Guys
Summer Hours - French
Sweeney Todd - The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
Synecdoche, NY
Talk To Her - Habla Con Ella
Taken 1 & 2
Thank You For Smoking
That Thing You Do!
The Adjustment Bureau
The Age of Innocence by Martin Scorcese 1993
The Bad Lieutenant - Port of Call New Orleans 2009
The Basketball Diaries
The Beach 2000
The Believer
The Beverly Hillbillies
The Black Dahlia
The Blue Lagoon 1980
The Book of Eli
The Boxer
The Constant Gardner
The Conversation
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
The Darjeeling Limited
The Dark Knight
The Dark Knight Rises
The Day of the Jackal
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
The Fifth Element
The Flock
The Flowers of War
The Fountain
The Getaway
The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo 2011
The Golden Compass
The Good Shepherd
The Good The Bad and The Ugly
The Goonies
The Green Mile
The Grey
The Help
The Hudsucker Proxy
The Hurricane
The Hurt Locker
The Ice Storm
The Ides of March
The Illusionist
The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus
The Impossible
The Informers
The Invasion
The Iron Lady
The Island of Dr. Moreau
The Jackal
The ****
The Killer Inside Me
The Kingdom
The Legend of Bagger Vance
The Lost Boys
The Lost Boys The Tribe
The Lost Boys Thirst
The Machinist
The Mask
The Man Who Fell to Earth 1976
The Master
The Mechanic
The Money Pit
The Naked Gun 1
The Naked Gun 2
The Naked Gun 3
The New World
The Pelican Brief
The Place Beyond the Pines
The Prestige
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The Reader
The Red Balloon
The Right Stuff
The Road
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The Rules of Attraction
The *** Diary
The Saint
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The Silence of the Lambs
The Skin I Live In - Mexican
The Soloist
The Talented Mr. Ripley
The Thin Red Line
The Town
Transformers Trilogy
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Tron Legacy 2010
The United States of Leland
The Usual Suspects
The Way Back
There Will Be Blood
There's Something About Mary
Three Days of the Condor
Three Kings
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
To the Wonder
To Rome With Love

Total Recall 1990
Trash Humpers
True Lies
Two Lovers
Two Weeks in September(Brigette Bardot) 1967
Uncle Buck
V for Vendetta
Varsity Blues
Vicky Christina Barcelona
Wag the Dog
Wake Up Ron Burgundy The Lost Movie
Wall Street 1987
Wall Street 2010
Water World
Wayne's World 1 & 2
We Are The Night
War Witch
We Need to Talk About Kevin
Weekend by Jean-Luc Godard - French
Weekend 2011
West of Memphis
What Doesn't **** You
What's Eating Gilbert Grape
When Harry Met Sally
Where the Wild Things Are
White House Down
White Material Criterion 2009
White Oleander
Who is Harry Nilsson?
Wolf 1992
You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger
Zardoz 1974

Documentaries & Music Videos

BBC - Life in Cold Blood
BBC - Planet Earth
BBC - Rolling Stones Crossfire Hurricane
BBC - Great Bear Steakout
BBC - Ice Age Giants
BBC - Insect Worlds
BBC - Life on Earth 1979
BBC - Lost Cities of the Ancients
BBC - Operation Snow Tiger
BBC - Penguins: Spy in the Huddle
BBC - Polar Bear: Spy on the Ice
BBC - Richard Hammond's Miracles of Nature
BBC - The Life of Birds
BBC - Wonders of Life
David Blaine Collection
**** Proenke Collection - Alone and Solitude, The Frozen North
Encounters at the End of the World 2007
Nanook of the North
National Geographic Wild Kingdom of the Oceans Giants of the Deep: Whales
Shine A Light - The Rolling Stones
Vladimir Horowitz - Der Ietzte Romantiker
Vladimir Horowitz - Live in Vienna 1987
Vladimir Horowitz - The 1968 TV Concert
Whale Adventure with Nigel Marvin
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
.the English pronounce the Cornish town's name as: nookie... the **** is it, a Green Day album name, or a Limp Bizkit song? perhaps i'm too French in my pronunciation... quail... eggs... quay... qua-a... if i were Welsh i'd write you the name like so... newyddquaa... but no... but no, has to be nookie... like buggering a ******* chimp... quail eggs... see how language becomes mutated? nothing is apparently, certainly, stable... always the permutation of a flux... i must have ingested a little of the French concept of: je ne sais quoi when learning English... come one... nouveaucarrière: new quarry... nouveauquai... nookie?! seriously?! Q, Q... Quail eggs... quay... new... quay... maybe the usage of hyphenating words into compounds needs to be revised in the english sprechen... ******* mutation... nookie... ****** ******, + a ******* wookie, walking carpet ride worth the name Chew-a-Buck-back-up! i'd settle for: new-key... some sort of variant of a maritime honing device for locating ships sending distress signals during storms... but... no... but hey... it's authentically Welsh territory... Cornwall is, after all... a pre modern extension of Wales... nookie this: shotgun my *** while is spew rhetoric concerning the health benefits of applying feces instead of ****** cream for the benefits of: no one.

over 20 years spent living on these isles,
and i never made the connection -
Welsh nationalism could only work
if you included Cornwall -
   given that Cornish is very much:
a southern dialect of Çymru -

    i guess... i'm not sure...
    let's put it to the etymological filter...
beginning with primary words:

           du   (Cornish)
      du   (Çymru)

       rudh (Cornish)
      coch (Çymru)

          gwydn (Cornish)
gwyn (Çymru)
        i guess that's how etymology works,
a shared origins story...
etymology is best
  examined with primary words,
basic nouns / adjectives...

that was the adjective test...
now for the noun test:

          howl (Cornish)
  haul (Çymru)
   loor (Cornish)
    lloer (Çymru)...

               ebron (Cornish)
   awyr (Çymru) -
      now we see what becomes from
etymological deviation...
the sky has to have more
inherent connotations
of a religiosity as the resting place
of sort...

i'm sure that sea, earth, water,
and fire, are very much akin
or mountain...
but i could be wrong...

    mor (Cornish)
  môr (Çymru)
    dor (Cornish)
   ddaear (Çymru)

         dowr (Cornish)

          tan (Cornish)
    tân (Çymru)

   menedh (Cornish)
         mynydd (Çymru) -

ah... well then...
that explains the separatist movement
of Cornwall akin
to the Spanish Basque or
the Catalonia...

  white cross on a black flag...
they're ******* Welsh down
in Cornwall!
   i was eating a Welsh pasty
all along!
           oh... i see...
  that's why they're separatists
down there...
but there's one word that's
crucial in all of this,
given the emblem is
on the Welsh flag...

**** me!
       there's an etymological source
for the word in English...
and, it comes from?

   draig (Çymru)
  dragon... in ******* Cornish!
**** me...

what's... snake?
   serpont (Cornish)
    neidr (Çymru)...

   there are similarities though...
blatant ones...
which explains the separatist
sentiment of the Cornish people...
they are like
the Hindu corp
of the Urdu speaking Welsh...
high Welsh and low Welsh...

nice to know...
thank god i didn't make the brash
etymological decision to
find the long lost cousins
of a shared source
akin to "abstract" words,



       DUW | WUD

well... god is a universal word,
and it matches...
  duw is god in Cornish,
and in Çymru...
   as it is also Allah on Malta...
funny as the fact that Malta
and it's Knights Hospitaller
cross of St. John of

20 ******* years on these isles -
and only now i realize
why the Cornish are separatists...
they're Welsh...
   in disguise,
under the guise of a tourist
hot spot that's "nookie":
                       i.e. Newquay...

come to think of it...
    even though i'm living in England...
i interacted more with
the Welsh, the Irish and the Scots...
than i have with the English...
    i'm starting to think that...
if i don't make my way to
  or Newcastle...
then i lived in a country...
where the supposed countrymen
of said name... never existed!

well, in english you'd never really know
that Cornwall was once part of Wales,
given that Wales, isn't in the name
Cornwall: but that's in English...

in Polonaise?
        well... Wales / Walia (that double-u
  or rather, the double-v,
   since... erm: ωμέγα?)
      Cornwall / Kornwalia...
      probably the most beautiful part of
England you can begin to imagine...

   the current debate over "the pond" in
h'america... tuition fees, student debt...
as much as the h'americans love to gloat
and boast this that and the other...

i'm looking at myself...
    i went to university, studied chemistry,
and history...
   3rd year? 12 hours per week in
the laboratories...
three tiers of chemistry:
a.  physical - i hated physical chemistry,
it's so un-chemical...
   too much physics / mathematical
*******, so obviously i was weak at it...
b. inorganic chemistry...
    something that mingles with
   geology / metallurgy...
   eh... so so... it was o.k. and finally
c. organic chemistry...
   my strongest route, my faustian dream...
and so much like cooking,
so much so that... well: heston blumenthal...
maybe that's why i love cooking
so much, since it reminds me of
organic chemistry...
   anyways, i digress...
      back when i studied...
  and labour was in power with their:
education, education, education mantra?
that's what was still great
                  about britain...
the last stand as it were,
   ****, i still remember tha handing over
of hong kong...
    fee, per year? 1,250 quid...
                      that's it...
student loan, 3,000 quid per year...
   i actually did manage to live
             on the 3,000 with enough money
spare to do weekend away trips to paris,
stockholm, barcelona etc. - and god:
how i loved to travel alone,
bumping into strangers in hostels...
and the best part?
    i don't have to repay my loan until
i earn over 15,000 quid per year...
and since i'm not earning that...
                  the loan will be annuled after
30 years...
   mind you... a really **** year to go
to university and become a british citizen...
since... in scotland... e.u. citizens didn't
pay tuition fees!
      hence the massive surge of the polans
circa 2005...
                                 so: america, **** yeah!

but on a night like this,
esp. in the evening prior to the night itself,
there's that surge in electricity in the air...
you're walking to the supermarket
and the most mediocre magic happens...
sonny rollins' blues in your ears
you pass a street lamp and it gets switched
on by the grid...

                   it's only special because
your're listening to jazz and when you listen
to jazz and promenade...
you might as well be as content as if
walking a yorkshire terrier...
   while on the way back, instead of your
usual beer... you buy yourself...
a rowntrees ice lolly...
    and you eat that... smirking, feeling
                                                 like a badass.

p.s. the best thing i received from
the university wasn't even the degree...
a chance to play squash, mountain climbing
(glen coe was a beau)...
         a t-shirt...
since, once i left: a self-teaching discipline.
This square nicely hidden
five blocks away
from the rolling sea in Barcelona
is busy with such quiet motion.

Many people on their way
to places with such anticipation
or maybe from somewhere
with renewed hope
or without any at all.

Some just sitting on a park bench resting
perhaps just preparing themslves
for the hours to come
what secrets do those hours hold?

Right now is over
in just an instant.

This will be the only time
we all meet here in this square
tomorrow will be an absolute different place
for each and every one of us.

Never again will we all be here

We've all changed
maybe ever so slightly
but changed just the same
for having seen each other
here in this square.
adamsalah Jan 2015
مشاهدة مباراة برشلونة ضد إلتشي بث مباشر اونلاين اليوم الخميس 8-1-2015, رابط نقل مباراة إلتشي وبرشلونة بث مباشر اونلاين بدون انقطاع في كأس ملك اسبانيا 2014/2015,روابط لمشاهدة مباراة برشلونة وإلتشي بث مباشر اون لاين في كأس ملك أسبانيا 2015\1\8 ذهاب دور الـ 16 من كأس ملك اسبانيا, نقل لعبة برشلونة وإلتشي بث مباشر اونلاين اليوم 8.1.2015 ,مشاهدة مباراة برشلونة وإلتشي اونلاين على الهواء مباشرة عبر النت في كأس ملك اسبانيا 2014/2015,مشاهدة مباراة برشلونة والتشي جودة عالية وبدون تقطيع كوبا دي راي 2014/2015,مشاهدة النقل المباشر لمباراة برشلونة والتشي اليوم 2015/01/08 ,كأس ملك اسبانيا بين برشلونة وإلتشي بث مباشر - FC Barcelona x Elche, مشاهدة مباراة برشلونة ضد إلتشي بث مباشر اونلاين اليوم الخميس 8-1-2015, رابط نقل مباراة إلتشي وبرشلونة بث مباشر اونلاين بدون انقطاع في كأس ملك اسبانيا 2014/2015,اهداف المباراة ,القنوات الناقلة : بي إن سبورت ,Bein Sports HD ,نتيجة,توقيت : 21:00 GMT ,موعد ,اين ,كيف,متى,اريد ,مشاهدة ,بث مباشر, اونلاين ,روابط , رابط ,وصلات,وصلة,موقع ,ماتش,مباراة ,مقابلة,لقاء ,لعبة ,لينك,لينكات ,الانترنت ,الهاتف ,الجوال , الموبايل ,المحمول ,يوتيوب ,النقال ,تابليت,مجانا ,بدون انقطاع وتقطيع, تشكيلة,اليوم,كأس ملك اسبانيا ,روابط لمشاهدة مباراة برشلونة وإلتشي بث مباشر اون لاين في كأس ملك أسبانيا 2015\1\8 ذهاب دور الـ 16 من كأس ملك اسبانيا, نقل لعبة برشلونة وإلتشي بث مباشر اونلاين اليوم 8.1.2015 ,مشاهدة مباراة برشلونة وإلتشي اونلاين على الهواء مباشرة عبر النت في كأس ملك اسبانيا 2014/2015,مشاهدة مباراة برشلونة والتشي جودة عالية وبدون تقطيع كوبا دي راي 2014/2015,مشاهدة النقل المباشر لمباراة برشلونة والتشي اليوم 2015/01/08 ,كأس ملك اسبانيا بين برشلونة وإلتشي بث مباشر - FC Barcelona x Elche, مشاهدة مباراة برشلونة ضد إلتشي بث مباشر اونلاين اليوم الخميس 8-1-2015, رابط نقل مباراة إلتشي وبرشلونة بث مباشر اونلاين بدون انقطاع في كأس ملك اسبانيا 2014/2015,روابط لمشاهدة مباراة برشلونة وإلتشي بث مباشر اون لاين في كأس ملك أسبانيا 2015\1\8 ذهاب دور الـ 16 من كأس ملك اسبانيا, نقل لعبة برشلونة وإلتشي بث مباشر اونلاين اليوم 8.1.2015 ,مشاهدة مباراة برشلونة وإلتشي اونلاين على الهواء مباشرة عبر النت في كأس ملك اسبانيا 2014/2015,مشاهدة مباراة برشلونة والتشي جودة عالية وبدون تقطيع كوبا دي راي 2014/2015,مشاهدة النقل المباشر لمباراة برشلونة والتشي اليوم 2015/01/08 ,كأس ملك اسبانيا بين برشلونة وإلتشي بث مباشر - FC Barcelona x Elche, مشاهدة مباراة برشلونة ضد إلتشي بث مباشر اونلاين اليوم الخميس 8-1-2015, رابط نقل مباراة إلتشي وبرشلونة بث مباشر اونلاين بدون انقطاع في كأس ملك اسبانيا 2014/2015,روابط لمشاهدة مباراة برشلونة وإلتشي بث مباشر اون لاين في كأس ملك أسبانيا 2015\1\8 ذهاب دور الـ 16 من كأس ملك اسبانيا, نقل لعبة برشلونة وإلتشي بث مباشر اونلاين اليوم 8.1.2015 ,مشاهدة مباراة برشلونة وإلتشي اونلاين على الهواء مباشرة عبر النت في كأس ملك اسبانيا 2014/2015

Cara Anna May 2013
Everyone has that place they go to when the world is too much with them. Or at least, near everyone. Mine is dark, like the sea, and it’s full of stars. It’s not quiet. It’s endless and orchestral, swirling with symphonies that I haven’t quite heard yet, symphonies that are always just a galaxy out of reach.

And sometimes it’s full of fields. I’m from the city, but they feel like home. They circle me and the sky is blindingly blue and I count my breaths: One, Two, Three, and so on. Until softly the wind blows and there I can imagine a different sort of song -- it doesn’t elude me; it consumes me. It’s there in the breeze, in the drifting bits of dust and pollen and tiny particles of sunshine. It’s great and beautiful and the first song that anyone ever heard.

And every so often. Only every so often. That song changes. It’s still within reach, but it’s a different tune. The song is light with floating, glowing ash; it’s heavy with a million voices and laughs and other songs; it drips with summer drinks and rushes through my soul. I am not alone in some black, celestial ocean or alone in golden labyrinths; home is no imagined place, nor are others just comforting phantoms. I am with them. It is more breathtaking than the stars, and more blinding than the sky.

It was like this that my summer began. In musical swells of escapism, visions of melodramatic beauty, grander than my true surroundings. It was built up like Fitzgerald crafted the West Egg, and it nearly ended much the same way; a journey homewards marked with disillusionment.

First came the traveling. I had hoped to find something I’d lost, and started out my search in the throbbing streets of Barcelona, saturated with sunlight during the days and at night with the sounds from sports bars as the football games ended, or young lovers’ laughter along the clear, black Mediterranean coast. Even the most hushed, winding alleys were full of something; perhaps this was just some magical element I conjured to make every moment new and original.

In Spain I found sea food and chilled beer and a bright rose to color my cheeks. I found churches crafted with dizzying dedication, art that made my heart stop, that somehow filled the world with its own sort of symphony.

Then came Paris. There was wine, red and deep and romantic, wine that Hemingway might have brooded over, or that Audrey Hepburn could have brought to her lips on some glamorous getaway from her Roman home. I found walls too, covered with Degas, with Monet and Manet alike, with Da Vinci and the rest. I discovered what it feels like to survey the Luxembourg Gardens on a July day, from a high shady point where despite denim shorts and a boulangerie sandwich, you’re aware that you’ve been graced with something that holds a euphoric regality.

And finally came a trip to Maine. On the shores of Bar Harbor I saw the endless pines and clear blue waters that spelled out the promised land for the first explorers. Atop Cadillac Mountain, as I burrowed into my father’s jacket and hid my face from the wind, I found the stars, as endless as I’d dreamt. They danced for me as for Van Gogh and I could have died up there. I found cool mornings to be filled with walks to rocky shores, and tea and berries and books. There was a different quality here than had been in my European travels. It was introspective and quiet aside from the chirps of crickets and birds and the laps of waves on dark cliffs. I loved it.

Each place held its own collection. Sand and shells and Spanish fans; metro tickets and corks and long linen dresses lightened on the bottom from the waters of the Seine; sea glass pulled from the harbor and dream catchers and endless dog-eared pages. Physical, tangible, ephemeral things for me to grasp onto. I added them to my character, grafted them to my bones, made them my own.

But what use is imagined significance; I hadn’t grown or changed or even learned what it was I had been looking for. I was several weeks older, I had seen a few more corners of the world, granted meaning to trinkets and decided they added to my worth.

It was August then. Shorter days for fluttering leaves and the understanding that nothing separated me from the person I had been aside from the hours between us. Direction in life can’t be dreamt up, it’s earned. It’s what you’re allowed to have after you’ve fallen down and picked yourself back up. I fell, but chose to imagine a new self in faraway places where my troubles couldn’t find me amidst the breezy, sunny crowds.

The cobblestone Parisian streets, the docks of Barcelona, the coves of Maine; they were only where I fled to when my own world was too much with me. When I couldn’t find any use in continuing as myself, I invented a girl laughing on the edge of l’Arc de Triomphe, wading quietly into the inky mystery of the warm sea, or hiding in pine forests with a copy of Wuthering Heights and a serious demeanor. She was the same girl that lost herself into empty fields and dark oceans of stars.

Only one thing stopped the self-absorption that had claimed me that summer. It was nothing fateful; nothing original. I didn’t traverse the world to see this, and the experience was not mine alone. It didn’t hold any old hollywood glamour, nor was it the topic of any of Hemingway’s books. Or maybe it was. It was true, after all. It was the truest thing I did the entire summer; it wasn’t adorned with portraits or cathedrals or soaring landscapes because it didn’t need to be. Hemingway, I think, might have liked that. What I’m going on about now is that Every-So-Often moment. It doesn’t stand lonely in my memory, like so many of the others might. It’s brimming not with strangers and false romantic visions, but with the company of those souls you’re allowed to feel like you’ve known for your entire life, for more than your entire life. The sounds of empty seas and shapeless symphonies have no part; instead, there’s the strumming of guitars with songs so familiar they place an ache right in the core of you. You ache because that moment, full of bonfire and friends and song, is becoming you in a way that nothing else could have (for all of your efforts). It’s a beautiful ache, the one you get when you’ve come home after a long time spent lost and away.
Leah Nov 2015
I swam in the mediterranean
and you mattered more.
navigator’s balcony cocktail hour
rocket orbit ocean liner rising
clenched no teeth no guernica no bam bam bam
correspondent notary republic
address book dial figure 8
charred with a thousand jigsaw pieces
false as a beach chiaroscuro black
on black graveyard womb naked milk glass lit
footprint tourism by candlelight and flare
vaccination fatigue puke fingernail fish
moving a bandaged echo **** him **** her
familiar bell music **** them both **** them all
stretched shirtsleeves spanish toffee slashed tires
(failure as a painter he shaved his wife’s fur coat)
bust your ***** Barcelona red alert
knock-kneed broken squeezebox no hands
standing room only ladies first (please)
unbuttoned interrogation coffee rolls (stop)
marine’s vegetation (stop) early morning tea (stop)
armless menus (stop) pink cathedral fingers (stop)

and (begin again) move

we move

moving inside an eye this eye
that advances step
by step
Brianna Hayley Jan 2014
Standing three feet away from me
   on a crowded Barcelona street
   you studied the map,
         oblivious to me studying your face.
     Your pink cheeks, the straight bridge of your nose, the corners of your mouth, your  
     perfect left ear that brings my eyes to the ***** of your soft neck.
I longed for you on that street—missed you, urged for you
I missed you as if you were 3,000 miles away,
           a face on a screen, a voice through the phone, words on a page,
the urge is the same as you stand merely inches from my body,
close enough to smell
your scent wafting towards me mixed with the crisp Spanish breeze.
   I lean in closer as your gaze catches mine
   you smile slightly and reach for my hand
   I clutch it and squeeze tightly as your scent and the breeze tickle my arms and my chest.
my mind gets cloudy as we run past hundreds of different people
                 or maybe the street was empty,
         I don’t remember that day
         but I know that I missed you as you stood three feet away.
PJ Poesy Mar 2016
Baby, as ancient as you are
your naivety worries me,
or is it my own? Thinking I
could ever have you again.
Oh but how I wish, pray, on knees
again to set eyes upon glory
of man named Antonio Guadi,
his Sagrada De Familia.
Is he finished with you yet?
Will he ever be? Would I want it so?
Artisans carving sanctity to sky,
what have you chisseled in my absense? Is God's work ever done?
Do, continue on forever, give me
chance to return.

Ah to bask on shore of San Sebastian,
with pollished rellics of former
architecture found in his beaten grains.
I long to melt there once more, in awe of
noon on Mediterranian Sea. My eyes
taking witness to painted Catalonian
women, *******, with holy devotion
dipping faithful fingers into your
waters, and signing the cross before
dipping into blueness. Good Catholic
girls they are. And handsome Gods about,
oiling each other and bearing wittness
as well. The ice cream boy, is he
grown now? Does he walk by open
mouthed still, where we left such
imprint in the sand for all to see?

When? If, I arrive again, will we walk
Las Ramblas, stare at human
statues, dance with gypsies, drink
Absinthe and be taken by spell of
Green Fairy? Will we then not care
that pretty pick-pockets rob us
blind? Oh, for the hallucinatory
love of it all! Hold me in your fortress
walls forever, should I ever, return.

My Barcelona Baby, take me back.

PJ Poesy

p.s. I never left you.
AW Oct 2014
The boulevard knows I don’t care
My hair’s messed up sometimes
These cobble stones remind me
That roughness has its charm

I turn a corner, find myself
In a whole new street of dreams
The fountain whispers to the wind
That nothing stays the same

As I wander unknown alleys
Each junction poses questions
Every showcase I walk by
Displays what life could be

Each passerby’s a promise
A sample story to be lived
The hilltop view reveals all
Of the possible paths to take

Strolling squares and avenues
I am searching to get lost
To find what I could never find
Where shortcuts are the norm

The cathedral proves to be the x
On my worn-out treasure map
The stained glass lays a mosaic
Of nuances on my heart

The arches paint perspective
Into my constricted reference
Their majesty lifts up my head
Compels an upward glance

The wideness resonates a truth
That shakes me to my core
The carillon sings an anthem
That accompanies new strides
irinia Aug 2016
in the centre of the cathedral
the square of a little town
where those in the know tell of an invisible cathedral.
a massive guest
the outside light
there is such purity in the pigeons’ feathers
superfine flour falls from the sky
on buildings on trees on people’s shoulders.
small bones rattle echoing in the coffin of a small guitar
while the world can no longer contain happiness.
there at the wall
two lovers wind into an 8.
late. in their shade
a blind horse
is crying sweat from its neck.

Ion Mircea, from *My Cup of Light
Reza Mahani Apr 2011
Long gone is the time
to love and to be loved
walking up the tiring steps
of conversing with shadows
that randomly pop up
in the busy streets of our mind
polluted by the loud honking noise
of the stalled dreams
Giant disappointments
from the past
do not let the hope
get through
Let's walk back to the park
of familiar faces
lie on the ancient carpet
of friendly whispers
and pray together
with our feet in the air
Friday, April 22, 2011
Barcelona Barcelona
We drew 2-all
Barcelona Barcelona
We rule the world
Barcelona Barcelona
We can’t have crowds
Because of the coronavirus
And people are saying to me
Take my family person away
And give my hooligan back
Make me go to the pubs
Telling corny jokes
Name me go to the shop
To buy my groceries
Make me listen to the radio
To talk back while I sleep
Heating people laugh at me
Thinking they have fooled me
I want my previous lives
To give me power especially
When I get my job
I know when I work I know my duties
And I do them well
I want Albert Waldron and Greene Thorne who are my previous lives
To give me power to conquer any bullies that want to bully me
Wants to tease me
Wants to fight me
I know I was a bad person back then
But I wasn’t as bad as you think
I just wanted to PARTY
And that made me a good positive person
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
.and there are plenty of reasons why western Europe commemorates the end of the first world war, and while eastern Europe commemorates the end of the second world war... sure, they were Jews, but they were ****** citizens... and whatever ****-show the first world war was... it was a war within a family... wasn't Wilhelm II the grandchild of Queen Victoria? so... George V and Nicholas II... so basically a ****** fest manifest of inter-familial ties... the second world war i can understand, given the catalysts, like the treat of Versailles... Weimar Republicanism... whatever... but the first world war? no wonder Western Europe commemorates the first world war more, than than the second world war... the first world war was.... not the war to ends all wars... it was just the most pointless, ******-infested war of our time... oh... look... no Helen on the horizon! now let's shoot up some ground down poppy seeds... or bake us a poppy-seed cake... because this... i'm not into tattoos... my psyche is already tattooed with vague dates... 1914 or 1918 11:11:11 isn't one of them.

it always feels like a guilty pleasure,
being raised in England...
how the **** i learned the language
i will never know...
  thrown into the deep end of the pool...
i remember Ms. Jarvis
at St. Augustine's primary school
(halfway between Gants Hill
and Barkingside)
   giving me a folder with pictures
of objects and their names...
      i remember that distinctly...
learned the language by myself,
learned to swim by myself...
being mute for most of the time
at the primary,
i used to spend lunch hours in toilet
cubicles, ashamed at being unable
to speak, or in the classroom book
section reading...
then one day: and there was light...
bilingualism is not much,
i'm not a polyglot...
but i know more than merely speaking
several languages...
i know how to think about them...
for example:
why does English, not apply diacritical
thinking it's the descendent
of Troy, and subsequently Rome?
- and why do the modern Greeks
overuse diacritical indicators?
the first English word i properly learned
was back in Poland...
i was told to write C L O W N
and then draw a picture of a clown...
then came the ambition...
to speak the native tongue than
the natives...
                          to become covert...
                    so... why cat?!
   and not... chatterer? or, rather:
       the linguistic diversity of
this tongue is unbecoming,
  it's exhausting,
paradoxically a universal language
in the form of the lingua franca...
but then the ******* Amazon of
biodiversity of unchallenged particulars...
and English is littered with
its set of particular...
                  how the English think
that English is a difficult language
is beyond me...
   the fact that it is a lawless language,
without any diacritical markers
indicating a clarity of syllable cuts
intra-verbum is one thing...
   and then... people just run along
with whatever is the new vogue...
a moral disintegration i can handle...
all the hedonism, i can handle that...
but when it comes to the orthodoxy
of language?
                        this, "neo cyber punk"
                            i don't want to get it...
it's the same ******* crap of
slang being the language of exclusivity...
sure... when you're trying to guard
yourself against rogue actors...
like pedophiles online...
             but i didn't learn this *******
language to respect its degeneracy into...
     oh right, the original point...
it's so ******* weird writing about my
history, having been subjected
to the English historical perspective...
            Rome never made it...
the northern crusades...
 ­         like... should this be even mentioned
using this tongue?
or should it be spoken in
the native?
                       and like the new
continent of H'america...
back in Europe... there's no concept
of Hispanic...
                   there is just the: Spaniards,
and their Barcelona,
  and their Madrid...
and their Lisbon...
and their own unique pride,
Hispanic sounds like...
what, a bunch of mongrels?
i'm a psyche mongrel...
                    basically **** up when
listening to the H'americans.
raj Jan 2015
Atletico’s progress to this stage has been somewhat sloppy to say the least, following a second leg showing at the Vicente Calderon which allowed minnows CE L’Hospitalet to walk away with an historic 2-2 draw.

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The loss at Valencia on Sunday for a near full strength Real Madrid returning from victory at the Club World Cup and a winter break came as a shock to everyone.

A title race is well and truly on again this season so it may come as some relief for the players of both camps to lock horns away from La Liga.

Failures for both Barcelona and Real Madrid at the weekend mean Atletico are level on points with Barcelona, each a point behind leaders Real but Carlo Ancelotti’s side do have a game in hand.
Watch Real Madrid vs Atletico Madrid live stream here. we provide you free streaming links here. Check out the active links here.

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