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Meher Dabral Jul 2014
There has been a lot of talk going around on face-book and other social networking sites about how girls these days are becoming shameless and have no hesitation in showing of their bra straps from under their tops or wear hot pants in the public or go out partying till late at night. Why are girls being subjected to such comments and derogatory accusations that they are themselves responsible for being *****? No girl in this world would like to be *****. It is not their choice. They are forced to succumb to such untoward actions of men. Women are abducted and ***** whether be it at night or in sheer daylight. They are being made victims of allegations that it is because of their short clothes, their late night partying and the new WESTERN culture that men are aroused and hence are compelled to fall for such repulsive man-oeuvres. People generally call these, self-created problems by women.

Today, India is trying to emulate the WESTERN countries in every aspect. There is a lot of heat beating around the education system being followed by one of the biggest universities in the country as to whether to follow the footsteps of the WEST or not. Be it in the areas of education, fashion, ideals India is keeping up with the affluence of the west. Nowadays, India is seen as a modern country but one of the things that is keeping it down from becoming one of the developed countries is the excessive crime rate especially the brutality against the women of the country. Despite the increasing feminism in the country, women are being victimized almost daily. Irrespective of the efforts by the government to protect the women of this country, men don’t seem to adhere to the consequences.
It is so ironical, that in one of the biggest democratic country of the world where freedom of speech is a constitutional right given to all citizens, women, who are considered to be the “DEVI” and are given such importance and high stature, their voices are being muted when raised to protest against something evil happening to them.  Power and money play such important role in diminishing such evil deeds but only in the favor of men. Just for the sake of saying, men and women are considered equal but when it comes to the actual application of such laws, women are always pushed back.
Coming back to the point, women are not ***** because of the clothes they wear, women of all ages wear short clothes outside of India, then why is it only in India that women are ***** brutally and then blamed for the same. It is not the dressing sense of women that is the main rationale for women being *****, instead it is the mentality of men who cannot keep their junk in their pants after seeing a pretty girl/woman either wearing a short dress or a sari. Their testosterone level spikes up immediately when they see a woman irrespective of their age. If the clothes girls wear was the sole reason for women being *****, then what in god’s name explains the brutality against 3 yr old? ****** 3 yr old or even old women is just an act of shame and satisfaction for men.
Both men and women blame women for the disgusting act of ****. Being someone from the same ***, there are women who blame girls these days and also point a figure at their character when it comes to being assaulted. It is not like we roam around in bikinis or thongs in public; it is just a strap, a bra strap like any other strap of any other clothing like a tank top or camisole. Why should women always sacrifice and give away their wish of wearing what they want, dressing up how they like, and looking pretty? On one hand we are criticized for wearing such short clothes on the other hand we ourselves pity the women living in countries like Saudi Arabia, Dubai, where women are supposed to be covered from head to toe. Our own national dress being as elegant it is, wearing a sari also involves obvious visibility of one’s stomach. But, that is not an issue because it is our national dress. A woman wearing deep neck suites and blouses is not a cause for problem since they are our cultural dresses. Our culture, our values don’t teach us to characterize women on the basis of clothes they wear, a women wearing a sari is equally vulnerable of being a victim of a man’s ****** arousal as is a normal college going girl wearing shorts and spaghetti.
It is in the head of the male gentry, that their unfulfilled ****** needs lead to such disgraceful acts. If in India men are allowed to wear boxers and go out, or no body points a finger at them when they wear hipster jeans and roam around in public showing half of their underpants, then why is it that girls/women are subjected to such carping by the society.  
The convention that “all men are dogs” or “all men are the same” does not apply here. Because of some men, who have no control over themselves and are the culprits behind the discreditable the whole *** is seen as obnoxious people. Even in this world of crime there are men/boys who are decent and respect women be it a 3 yr old infant or an 80 yr old lady. Due to certain men, even such decent men have to go through the same amount of shame and abomination from women.
Our government has taken a few steps In favor of women’s safety by launching fast track courts and by implementing the penal code but the government alone cannot protect us. One of the articles said, “what if the government has banned the use of pepper spray, the red chilli powder used in the kitchen should be brought out of the four walls of the house and put to some greater use.” I totally agree with this comment, so what, if pepper spray is banned, carry chilli powder, carry a mini knife in your purse but just to be used for self-defense, go and take self-defense classes, learn various forms of martial art. Why sit at home and wait for the government to take some actions for our safety. India is a free country, do it yourself. Protect yourself. Save yourself from flagrant men who indulge in ****. Wear what you want, party all you want, make this country safe for yourself and other women. Take a step out of the house, do your thing fearlessly.
this is not a poem, but a thought about the conditions of women in our country.
judy smith Jul 2015
Getting married on a beach, mountaintop, remote villa or rustic rural setting is a romantic ideal for many brides.

But what does that mean for the wedding dress?

Should you go formal or footloose? Will your gown fit in your suitcase?

A bride having a "destination wedding" should think about versatility when choosing a gown. She must be "concerned about being comfortable, more so than your typical bride. She has to contend with weather and terrain, making her gown choice critical to how at-ease she feels on her special day," says Lori Conley, senior buyer for David's Bridal.

Christine Pagulayan of Toronto and her fiancé, Ian McIntyre, jetted to Costa Rica in 2013 for a resort wedding.

"I had a (dress) style in mind: strapless, low back, white with ruching. Initially, I thought about going short, since we were going to get married on a beach, but I then realized that even if it may be heavy or sweaty, I wanted a real wedding dress. So we found one that had a gorgeous train, but it also had a bustle so I could dance," Pagulayan says.

Some dress trends for destination brides:

• LIGHT FABRICS AND SHORT HEMS: Many traveling brides favor lightweight, airy fabrics.

"Chiffon and organza are always favorites. Full trains can be cumbersome if you're navigating sand or grass," says Conley, of David's.

"A lot of brides opt for the ease of a sweep train," which just grazes the floor.

David's destination-friendly dresses include styles in full or tea-length tulle, soft lace or chiffon, Conley says. Fabrics that travel well for brides wanting a more structured gown include silk gazar, georgette and crepe, which are "lighter-weight versions of silk faille and Mikado," says Carrie Goldberg, associate fashion editor for Martha Stewart Weddings.

J. Crew's Karina short dress, for instance, has a flapper-esque fringe, and is covered in corded lace. • SEPARATES: "Tops and bottoms are not only easier to pack, they allow for mixing and matching fabric and fit to get a silhouette that feels unique to your personal style," says Goldberg.

Separates work for any destination, she says: "A full organza skirt may appeal to a bride getting married on the beach; pairing it with a delicate silk camisole suits the location. The same skirt would suit a mountaintop affair when paired with a fur bolero or a fine knit."

J.Crew's Sloane poly-cotton long skirt has a simple, draped profile; a silk cami top embellished with beads, crystals, sequins and paillettes in a floral motif creates a dressy look.

At David's Bridal, there's the crisp Mikado cropped top balanced by a flowing, organza ball-gown skirt, creating a modern silhouette.

• COLOR: Let the venue inform your choice of hue, Goldberg says.

"A sunset wedding in Napa pairs beautifully with a blush gown, while the colors of an Amalfi Coast wedding may inspire the bride to opt for something blue."

• VERSATILITY: For bridesmaids — or perhaps even the bride — White House Black Market has a clever option: a short or long pull-on gown with a customizable top. You can adjust the straps on the "Genius" dress to make a halter, one-shoulder or cap-sleeved version. Easy to pack, affordable and available in a range of colors, these might be a good option for a group of bridesmaids.

• FOOTWEAR: Flats or wedges are ideal for beach or garden: "The more surface area the sole of your shoes have, the easier it will be to walk," says Conley.

Keep in mind that satin or grosgrain might get stained by grass or sand.

Another option for beach brides is "foot jewelry," an accessory that does away with the need for an actual shoe.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-adelaide

www.marieaustralia.com/plus-size-formal-dresses
Ayaba Babe Dec 2012
The see-through pink camisole that I gracefully wore
Now lies disgracefully upon the ground,
Ralph Lauren on the floor.
Find my way between his knees
And teach what I have learned.
I could teach him many things
But I'd rather just receive what I have earned.
This secret must be hard to keep?
The whole house now knows his name.
And when this ***** get too deep
The whole house can hear my pain.
Nails dug deep into his back;
Deep enough to break the skin.
Lips inching towards his body;
Teeth sinking in.
Wham, Bam, Thank You Ma'am.
****** gotta fly.
Send him back to his white girl-
First,
Give me a kiss goodbye.
Poem Notebook, College Edition 2010.
C S Cizek Jan 2015
I walked into the laundry room
to a couple folding into each other.
Her chartreuse camisole and his
evergreen boxers pined for a bough
break in the noise of twenty-something
cents rattling in the dryers.  
They talked about peeling off
and sorting each other's skin layers
by darks and lights, trying to find
a neutral blush they could blend on.  

My towels had three minutes
left on the spin cycle, so I walked past them into the dim-lit room, took
a seat on a dryer, and turned around
to face the cream brick wall and
pipes cutting on a diagonal, dividing
it into lights and darks.
I swilled pupils behind your glass               Then sighed into the telephone.
                                                      ­      (…)
reflections of me peering out.                     /Against each felled bough
The sneering nose,                                       /blooms indignity
supports a wire                                             /swelling like vineyards
framing your visions.                                 /over sultry horizons;
Beneath                                                        /I float and stare
a satin camisole                                        /at equanimity
connected to me                                      /vanishing in undue time,
below the belly. This was our ship     /like my young grapes
taking on                                                 /dripped on your bodice
water.                                                    ­ /while you drank with no conscience.
MMXII
July 23, 2012
Elizabeth Hynes Oct 2014
Glowing on your camisole
Reflections cast doubt
On your role
As my suitor

Old time word
Still fresh to speech
Dead concept
Mouldy peach
Third Eye Candy Feb 2016
our tongues will regret yet, the very things we really mean.
before breakfast. rough tongues of the young, too thick to stick a pin
in sorrows with subtext, are not our tongues. we are not, not gone.
we are less than really here; right now. you live out of clouds
around the bend. if you intend to sleep as deep as that, then keep
the keys to the chariot, but lose this address.
i know butterflies that hate you.
these are butterflies
you have never met...
and yet
a fret of miles gain an inch in hell. our tongues tell best, of very ordinary means
by which we end, less. we drone. our own pun; a neat trick we keep.
with love, borrowed. a mock debt; a storm-front of rain-checks
feather our deranged nest. akin to soft sins;
if not wrong, not quite right yet. small crimes.
we will do no time well spent,
any favours.
our clocks are dark.
why mark day one ? and do tell, how so ?
as you know, our sunset
is infinite.
i know stars that hate the night. these stars are deep, so by 'night', meant, 'the night
of our eyes' that by design, no star has ever been -
that did not flee for fear of it.
our night is unkind.
love tortured it. love built stars, painted black. never lit.
decoys, hell-bent in heaven's grip to ******* a flock
of lost angels, locked
in free-fall. our night the basement floor
of all descent.
what stars call ' the bottom of the bottomless'.
we call 'a great place to paint stars black'
fin.

since when, do we not live, and not live to regret ?
our sharp minds are unkempt, but the truth did this.
our lies were tailored, so **** fit. smokescreen jacket, 100% smoke.
double stitched.
that camouflage camisole  ? pure silk.
somewhere, a web of deceit
is telling a fly
about a hot librarian
with black wings.

with your face.

good with scissors.

she wove a façade with her heart in her left hand, behind her back. this heart wept.
these lies found god. when their faith increased their number...
god was family.

i knew    that would make you laugh.

i didn't know laughter could ask for asylum.

this will be dealt with. our games are serious spirals.

our vendettas our enigmas.
our humor; inscrutable.
our telepathy
is disarmed

but never harmless.

when people like us shoot from the lip ? it's a massacre. hollow points, custom made -
black powder ? an unnatural understanding of love. and dry wit, unhinged...
our bullets ?  Bullies Of the Highest Caliber and fluent in 5 languages; doubtless,
The Envy of Contempt !

when people like us shoot from the lip ? with our tongues, armed to the teeth ?
our teeth; a full set of white knives. with our vanity...
bleaching carnivorous
stalactites by day.
stalagmites by night ?

do worlds burn ?
does Sigmund Freud ?
I do not know.

I am certain only, of the following -

" when two persimmons make a pair... lethal persimmons."
" when two pears make one false move... persimmons are like '**** pears !'"
" when persimmons are paramours... and we too, make a pair...?"

Rosemary's, baby persimmons ?

i can tell you there is no such thing as 'collateral damage' at our level of expertise
and nothing bleeds without a permit.
to attain said permit, a wound, from the future -
must send a genuine moment of weakness to the past. after analysis...we verify.
from here, our methods diverge.
but our dis-ordinance
is acquired.

when our gauntlets demand satisfaction, our custom is to trade barbs.
at this, we excel. we trade without deficit.
our accounts are immune to frenzy.
our balance:  pathology.... then

it's 'tongues at twenty paces'
and someone
gets hurt.

by rote we joust... by now, your flank is.... exposed.
so, my dread rose... my blanch thorn... know -

Twenty paces will always be nineteen paces from a kiss.
but it will never be
'only nineteen'.


if you laugh - this has always been true.
if you don't - this has never been a lie**.
betterdays Jul 2018
linen
still crisp
against my skin

underneath
silky camisole
i am armoured today

walking into
the dragons den

hoping to gain
much gold to craft
into treasure

but the dragon is wily
and hoards against
the thought of loss

be brave
my linen knight
your village needs this
research grant meeting
I see you sitting beside the road under a tall Elm tree
Near a thicket with a stream running by at  your feet.
Your head held up by the one hand
With your elbow resting against the tree.
Your body turned away from me on one side.
Dressed in a velveteen camisole top with a white skirt – all alone.
As I approach you - you turn your eyes toward me
And say, “Shall you not leave me too, my love?”
Looking into your eyes I see somehow that I must be invisible
Because your question was not meant for me.
It was for the very thing in the essence of love.
Tears trickle down your cheeks
As my heart and soul sits down beside you.
You allow me to wipe the tears away
And I watch as they reappear one by one -
Falling ever so slowly into my offered handkerchief.
Then I set my handkerchief into my own tears and
Then back into yours once again.
All the while feeling the most
Indescribable emotions – ones for which
I have no way to dispose of or account for.

Taking you into my arms I say to you:
“Yes, I am positive that I have a soul within me and
All the scientists, nor all the learned professors
Or all of their books combined could ever convince me otherwise.
I know it must be true, dear one –
Because you could not be so lucky as to have the only one.
If ever love does leave you –
It will be to go to heaven to make sure that
Your place is properly prepared for you.”

You lean into me, holding me
Like a lost child in a never ending maze.

And then I awaken…
Another night passes into the morning of the never was.
Are things the way they seem
Or are they simply unfinished lines - just because?
Sometimes I sit with the pain of so many others. Each one blending their tears with my own. Sometimes just blurbs or dots on a page. Sharing so many unfinished lines.
John F McCullagh Apr 2013
Come to bed, darling, for sure the hour is late.
Most certainly, your conference call can wait.
The children are asleep and I’m abed,
So work must wait, come play with me instead.
Don’t waste these hours with fitful sleep tonight
when you and I could fill them with delight.
Unlace that camisole and let it drop,
A goodly start. I didn’t say to stop!
Then, turning towards me with an impish smile
Lose the slacks and add them to the pile.
Then, taking sight of my most firm intention
Remove your hose, the devil’s own invention.
When we are wearing just our birthday suits
Arch your back like a feline in pursuit.
Keep the heels, they’re red and bold I swear
They spur me to enjoy my favorite pair.
Those orbs of night won’t ignored my dear
As we effect conjunction of the spheres
We stifle cries as we make our cradle rock.
We'll tell the kids it was an aftershock.
Some nights are cold but this one needn’t be,
If you fall asleep held safe and warm by me.
Having fun with, among other things, John Donne's elegy XIX
Thushena Jul 2015
i) You talk about soft-serve ice cream in summer and all I can think about is the way your hands tremble each time you touch me; what are you so afraid of? You shake your head and lick cone-crumbs off your lips. I think I like you a little too much.

ii) Lily once told me that you were obsessed with aliens; fascinated by the idea that there were other forms of life in the Universe. I lie down on soft grass, look up into the darkness, and wonder if there is a possibility of ‘us’ in another galaxy.

iii) You are all curves, soft edges, and electric blue hair; so how exactly do you manage to cause this ache in my chest each time you take off in the morning to be with him? My brother sees me curled up with bottles of bourbon by the side of my bed, and says that I should stop loving you. I don’t know how to.

iv) When things finally end, it is one in the morning and we are sitting on the boardwalk, sipping coke from glass bottles, pausing to taste each other’s lips every now and then. You tell me you’ll miss me and all I want to do is disappear, into one of those galaxies you constantly think about. Instead, I grab my satin camisole off your lap, pull it over my head, and run.  

v) The whole way home, I practise letting you go.
L Oct 2018
If your the type
to only breathe through
the stitches
of your camisole.
And if you always taste like mint,
when kissed on the mouth.
Just because you don't want them smell,
the self hate.
That resides in the back
of your throat
in your breath.

You're also the type
to call me up
six am
asking for a
Friend
Selma Bee Jun 2015
When I first told people, so many years ago,
That I could never get cold, no matter what,
I., myself, really, truly believed it.
It wasn’t a lie when it really was the truth.

No one thought that it was actually reality.
But it was my reality, not theirs.
They didn’t have to believe anything I said.
It was their issue, not mine.

Many people refused to believe what I’d
Told them so many years ago and then
Continued on to think was real
For so many more years to come my way

Eventually, the day came when,
I, too thought that. I may be wrong.
Sure, it could have gone a lot worse.
But it also could have gone much better.

The truly funny story comes here
So, see, I'm coming out of swim practice
And there's snow all around me
But I'm dressed for summer.

Coach Beth asks if I'm cold.
And of course I say that I'm not cold
In my flip-flops and camisole.
I really was quite content at that point.

It's unforgettable to everyone
How I would wear shorts
And tanks and sandals
In the dead of winter.

Only because I could.
There was no hidden motive.
No siree, there was nothing more;
I really just enjoyed being that way.

And then years later I ran out
It was the middle of the night
There was a huge wind chill
But I had known that before leaving

And my hair was sopping wet.
And I only could grab flip flops.
And I could not find a jacket to wear.
And I worried, because I was cold.

It happened once before
I was outside late at night
And goosebumps were everywhere
I looked and didn't want a coat.

So I think that I have into
This idea that everyone must get cold
Because all I had wanted to do
Was fit in, and that did something.

But I would not realize until just one
Year later from that date
That cold may sometimes be
More than a physical condition.

See, you can be cold because of
Something silly like the weather
Or you can be cold because of
A serious matter like relationships.

That's what I've learned in the
Wacky time I've spent on this planet.
I've learned that people are the ones
Who end up hurting you the most.

I had never really been wrong
And I still am not, in truth
I never am physically cold
But that isn't what it meant

So it took years to get there
To that weird conclusion of mine.
But now I know that a bad ending
Really can turn you stone cold.
R May 2015
a few days ago
someone decided to go and repost an old poem about you
and it had been a long time since I had even thought of that day
but, I guess since I've been thinking about it,
I may as well write about it.

I had reserved the night for us, and sadly my sister tagged along.
It was still so wonderful though, it truly was.
You drank your first tea that night, i had been your first for many things.
And we wanted to figure out the mystery, to discover the clues.
But it was so hard to think of anything other than you.
Your hair was incredibly straight, flowing beautifully past your angelic shoulders.
Your eyes were covered with a black shimmering powder, and you looked so enticing.
You laughed so beautifully, everything you did was beautiful.
You wore a black skirt, a black camisole, and a see through shirt with lace. Yes, i still remember.
I don't really know how I remember, but I guess memories start to come back when you least expect them to.
Your smile that night was stunning, as per usual.
And you made me realize that night just how beautiful I truly was.
I remember making love to you that night, it was sweet and quick and we were exhausted. It was full of sloppy kisses and masked moans and pants. We laughed a bit, because we really weren't in the mood. But the cuddling we did afterwards, now that is something I'll truly never forget. I loved the way my hand always seemed to fit perfectly in the space between your hip and stomach, like we were missing puzzle pieces.
and I remember realizing that I was falling for you all over again that night. But with falling, comes crashing. And I truly made that painfully clear in the few weeks to follow.
"Your lips touched the cup gracefully, just like they when they kiss my lips. And my heart grew immensely when I realized I was falling in love with you all over again."
I miss those lips of yours sometimes. They always knew when I was in need of you. Do they still know? Can they still tell? Probably not.
44 weeks ago, we went on this date. And 41 weeks ago, I did something so awful that I still have a hard time conjuring up the words to describe it. I am truly sorry for what I did, please understand.
"I applaud you, darling, for making everything I do and live for seem so important... And for loving me while I fall in love with you
over and over again."

I guess it's easy to forget when you have someone new, right?
I never thought you'd be the first to break my heart, though.
I don't know.
I'm sorry for what I did. It will follow me around forever, you know.
I'm constantly reminded.
But I'm glad you enjoy my pain.
Maybe soon enough you will have the pleasure of watching me go through the most highest form of pain.
How did we get like this?
And I took some excerpts from the the original poem.
I used to be able to write so much better.
I guess my head was clearer back then.
Vladimir Lionter May 2020
THE 1st
I have known you not long, believe me
Girl - friend, and I am not joking
You have become so dear to me,
Like a light ray, endlessly darling.
You are warming me by radiant hopes
You are valuing me, my feelings, you.
Your moral aid’s giving me vital force,
You are awake the whole night through.
Being together we won’t die
Our plans to live are plain!
Two stars bright’ll light up in a blue sky
After our dying again.
{2018}

THE 2nd
Winter has burst forth again. Nature is
Measuring the camisole of snow hard.
“It always happens year in year out”,
Say you and you seem to be right in this.
You say looking at me. What affecting
Tenderness’s your glance containing. You’re almost
The princess in a holiday attire hobbling
When it is so necessary, the horse
At full tilt, don’t quit, be with me longer, please!
Your character, steel will, features are dear
To me up to pain, no one’ll find your peer
I love to be with you, my honey bliss.
{2018}

THE 3rd
Country meadow as the carpet of camomiles,
A nice girl’s standing in the field.
“Volodya, your poems give me creeps, thus”,
She says without being bewildered.
Her plaits as cornfield have spread over her
Shoulder- blades as a brook. The girl is
Very beautiful, her voice’s ringing so
Clearly as if it were the nightingale’s bliss.
Her eyes are like winter waters
I am enchanted by their depth.
Freedom’s wind secluded corners
In soul. Peace’s in my soul’s wealth.
{2018}

THE 4th
I’ll sit down by you, my sweet, filled with joy’s
Tune, under crown wood noising by blessedness
You are the most lovable among girls
You are my most true, darling, princess.
Your bust can be compared with ripe poppy-heads,
Your pimples juicy are luring me.
You are my long- awaited berry, my goddess
Pure for my being able to be.
We’ll crown our conjoint life’s happy
Cup by the last straw not being in the cold.
You are ineffably beautiful now, sappy
You’ll be beautiful whrn you grow old.
{2018}

THE 5th
Hard parting is the wisest of the wise
And the word’s expressiveness’s in my soul.
Oh, woman’s lot, what for are all these pangs?
When will it end once and on the whole?
And what for is this punishment at last?
It is related to sword of Damocles.
The distance separated both of us,
Every night I sob of all days those.
Every day I read in correspondence your
Poems–how sweet is to be Muse! And
I’ve erected obelisks in your honour
I won’t be able to forget your type grand.
{2018}

THE 6th
Accept me, please, my wonderful girl- friend,
Accept me absolutely and my poems.
And I’m ready to reveal you my yesterday’s
Sins in my rear leisure’s hours.
Understand me, a poet artless, please,
Who’s got used to love so elevated.
My sonorous style’s more terrible than pistols’
Shot, feeling’s calling’s as the vow on blood yet.
I don’t smoke or drink brandy or whisky,
And terrors are often unknown to me.
You are my Angel so dear, close, friendly,
And my idol sung in my poems free.
{2018}

ЛЮБОВНАЯ ЛИРИКА

ПЕРВОЕ
Я тебя недолго очень знаю
И поверь, подруга, не шучу:
Для меня ты стала как родная –
Ты подобна светлому лучу:
Ты меня надеждой согреваешь,
Мною непомерно дорожишь –
Мне морально сильно помогаешь,
Хоть ночами целыми не спишь!
Мы с тобою без вести не сгинем –
Наши планы – жить – они просты!
После нас, подруга, в небе синем
Две зажгутся яркие звезды!
{2018}

ВТОРОЕ
Зима вступила вновь в свои права
Камзол из снега меряет природа.
«Всегда так происходит год от года» –
Ты говоришь, и, кажется, права.
Ты говоришь и смотришь на меня –
И как же много нежности во взгляде –
Почти принцесса в праздничном наряде,
Что на скаку стреножит и коня.
Не уходи, побудь ещё со мной!
Характер твой, стальная сила воли –
Черты твои мне дороги до боли!
Такая милая, мне нравится с тобой!
{2018}

ТРЕТЬЕ
Сельский луг как ковёр из ромашек!
Чудо-девушка в поле стоит.
«Мне, Володя, твой стих до мурашек!» –
Мне, стесняясь, она говорит.
Её косы как хлебные нивы –
Растеклись по лопаткам ручьём.
Эта девушка очень красива –
Её голос звенит соловьём!
Её очи – как зимние воды –
Околдован я их глубиной.
На душе снова ветер свободы,
На душе наконец-то покой!
{2018}

ЧЕТВЁРТОЕ
С тобой сяду я рядом, любимая,
Под древесною кроной шумящею.
Ты из девушек – самая милая,
Ты принцесса моя настоящая!
Твои груди как спелые маковки –
Меня манят бутончики сочные!
Ты моя долгожданная ягодка,
Ты богиня моя непорочная!
Чашу жизни совместной счастливую
Завершим мы последнею капелькой.
Ты сейчас несказанно красивая –
И прекрасною будешь старенькой!
{2018}

ПЯТОЕ
Мудрее мудрого тяжёлая разлука –
Невысказанность снова на душе.
О, доля женская, за что такая мука?
Когда она закончится уже?
К чему сейчас такое наказанье –
Оно сродни домокловым мечам:
С тобой нас разлучило расстоянье –
Я каждый день рыдаю по ночам!
Я каждый день читаю переписку,
Твои стихи – как сладко музой быть!
И в честь тебя воздвигнут обелиски –
Я не смогу твой образ позабыть!
{2018}

ШЕСТОЕ
Прими меня, прекрасная подруга –
Прими как есть, прими мои стихи.
И лишь тебе в свой редкий час досуга
Готов раскрыть вчерашние грехи.
Пойми меня – нехитрого поэта,
Привыкшего к возвышенной любви.
Мой звучный слог страшнее пистолета,
Признанье чувств – как клятва на крови.
Я не курю, не пью коньяк и виски
И часто мне совсем неведом страх.
Ты ангел мой, такой родной и близкий,
Ты мой кумир, воспетый во стихах!
{2018}

Translator - I. Toporov
"...And as if I set fire to matches,
I’m pronouncing amorous words.
“For ever”, “honey” and, of course, “dear”
Carrying always in my head the same.
If you touch passion in the man, it’s clear
You will never find the truth again..."
Sergei Esenin, 1925
«...И, как будто зажигая спички,
Говорю любовные слова.
«Дорогая», «милая», «навеки»,
А в уме всегда одно и то ж,
Если тронуть страсти в человеке,
То, конечно, правды не найдешь...»
Сергей Есенин, 1925
Julian Apr 2023
4/8/2023 WRITING
https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/l8njruxa73yee9b0jzmhd/The-Ultimate-Unabridged-Guide-to-Esoteric-Working-English-2.docx?­rlkey=kunoar7ghpfkb7fjk5xkdgx95&st=i84ornny&dl=0

THE JUDOGI YOUTHQUAKE YESTERTEMPEST YARAKS THAT SCALD THE BRIMBORIONS OF SCALARIFORM PEDIGREE IN CORDWAINER CONTORTIONS OF VAURIEN ELITISM THAT THE SCHMEGGEGY OF SCHWARMEREI BECOMES THE RADICALISM OF ABSORBED NUTRITION IN VENOSTASIS FOR THE VENOCLYSIS OF SYRINXES THAT DEFEAT THE PODEX OF PNYX BECAUSE THE SYRINGES OF TIME ELECT THE ENCHANTMENT OF FUTURE RESOFINCULAR DISTRACTIONS AND DIVERSIONS OPERATIVE IN FLUX BETWEEN STEREODIMENSIONAL FIDELITY AND THE FENNEC OF FEALTY TO THE LANDLORDED PLOUGHSHARES OF DEADSTOCK DEASIL CONTORTIONS FOR SCARAMOUCHES OF SACRILEGE TO FIND THEIR FINIFUGAL DEFEAT IN THE MYOPIC HEDONISM OF THEIR FOISONS OF FRANIONS BECAUSE OF FRIGORIC LORE CONTAMINATED BY ALGEDONIC IMBALANCES SCREWBALL IN ANTITICHTHON FOR THE AURILAVES OF OPTIMIZED ARCHITECTONICS. THE SCRIVELLOS OF CELLARER RHADAMANTINE RANCORS OF TRUCULENT DRACONIANISM BECAUSE OF WIELDLESS INSUFFICIENCIES IN BROWBEATS OF EARWIG VANGERMYTES TRYING WITH PHUGOID GROUNDPROX MIGHT THEY STOKE THE STOKEHOLD BRITSKAS OF ELEMENTAL ALCHEMY AGENTIC AGAINST THE ACORIA OF ACCIDIA IN THE WILELESS AISLINGS OF HANDSPIKE UTILITARIANISM FOR GHAWAZIS THAT SUBORN IN ETCHED CAMOUFLETS OF WALDFLUTES IN ENCHANTMENT TO BECOME BARNSTORMS OF BARRULETS THAT THE BARCAROLE OF CATAPLEXY BECOMES MORE IMMUNE TO FUTURE SHOVELS OF DISCORD IMMERGENT IN ALL AUTOGNOSIS DEPRIVED FROM HAUBERKS OF DISPLAY AND GLORIFIED FILEMOTS OF GOVERNED DURATIVE PILLORIES THAT BECOME A SOLDIERED IGNOMINY. THERE IS A RAREFIED AVINOSIS ENCOURAGING THE STELLIONS OF SYNAPHEA IN ENCAUSTIC GRIDLOCK BECAUSE OF SALAMANDROID CORDWAINER VERSATILITIES THAT ARE THE TAXIDERMY OF SKELETONIZED CRENELLATED ANTEPONES THAT BECOME BERSATRICES FOR PAST GLAMOUR DISTORTED BY INTRORSE AUGENDS OF ARENAIDAN STATOLITHS THE BROCKFACED ENDEAVORS OF RECTITUDE IN RETROSPECTION BECAUSE OF RETROMORPHISIS FOUNDED BY THE DISCRETION OF THE FUTURE SUCH THAT THE ANGARY OF DEBILITATION ACCELERATES A SYSTEM OF DIMINISHED CASUALTIES AMONG THOSE THAT FUNNEL THROUGH FORESIGHT REFRACTED BY PRISMS OF OMPHALISM THAT THE OUTGENERALED CAPACITY TO SARANGOUSTY BECOMES THE CENTRAL HARBINGER OF DEFALCATION THAT  DESTROYS THE BASTIONS OF EVIL LURCHING IN CLAMBERED AUSPICES TRYING TO INVAGINATE THE IATRALIPTIC JARVEYS TRYING THE CADRANS OF RETCHED SPODIUM IN CLADOGENESIS NOW AUTHORED BY THE PARTIAL VICTORS OF WORLD CONFLICTS BECAUSE THEY TUNNEL THROUGH THEIR WIDESPREAD REACH OF RECONNAISSANCE THAT THE MIGHT CONQUER NATIONS JUST TO BURROLE  EVERY SECRET DENEHOLE IN EVERY GREATER CONFLICT SUCH THAT THE RICHES OF THE TROVES OF THE PERJURED IGNOMINY OF CONQUEST WILL NEVER BELITTLE ITSELF AS A PREROGATIVE WAGERED PAXILLOSE UPON THE TRENCHANT ORTHODOXY OF WAR AGAINST THE ATTRITION OF ATTINGENT AND ATTEMPERED TITRATION OF VILE VIOLENCE IN THE HEYDAY OF KRISTALNACHT WHICH BECAME THE HARVEST OF MAIDEN NOVANTIQUE IN AN ERA THAT NOW KOWTOWS TO CALIPACES OF ABIGAILS WITH GAMMERSTANG NOTORIETY THAT SPHACELATES ITSELF VERTIGINOUS BUT PROTECTED FROM SPIRACULATED SUBINTELLIGENTUR MAINLINED BANDELETS BECAUSE THE SUTLERS OF A SECTILE WORLD HAVE RENOWN UPON THEIR OWN RECURSIVE ELITISM BECAUSE OF THE UMLAUTS OF WHITTAWERS RATHER THAN WITTOLS BEREAVED BY WHISKERANDAS WHO EARN CIPPUSTURE FROM ULTRAGEOUS RAGE APPLIED TO THE HEAPSTEAD OF MOULIN VEESES THAT STRENGTHEN THE INCUMBENT ECONOMETRIC ANALYSIS OF ALL PAST STRIFE CULMINATING IN UNIVERSAL EUDAEMONISM BECAUSE THE UMBRILS OF TERRORISM IN UMBRACIOUS SUFFRAGE MIGHT AMOUNT TO THE GREATER CRUCIBLE OF ESBATS BECOMING ROTUND IN THEIR CONCEALMENT OF THEIR OLM PEDIGREE IN APIKOROS STATURE WHICH BOWED TO THE PRESENT RATHER THAN ACKNOWLEDGING THE ENNOMIC REVULSIONS OF THE REVANCHE OF PAST LITTORAL EMBANKMENTS. IMPORTUNATE SQUALOR OF JAWHOLES IN CAMARADERIE OF JURYMASTS THAT ESPOUSE THE VENIREMEN OF RHABDOMANCY WHICH ARE SUSSULTATORY BECAUSE THE FEWER PROMONTORIES OF PRICKLY CULVERTAGE RAISING A TRIBULOID CARTHAGE OF THE CARNAGE OF REVELING RAVISHES OF ULTIMATUM BECAUSE OF BRONTEUM THAT IS SPECULAR IN ITS OWN DISDAIN BECAUSE IT ROUSES THE CHARLATAN TO DISMOUNT UPON HIS PLUMAGE TO THE PENMANSHIP OF A WORLD ON THE BRINK OF ICEBLINKS REGISTERED BY CLAVIS AND THE CLAVATE OF RIGMAROLE ROUNDED BY TIMMYNOGGIES OF SATRAPS THAT SPARTAN EMPLOYERS OF CEMENTUM SPAR WITH THE BARGEMASTERS OF BARKENTINE BALLASTERS OF HAUBERKS OF THE SPELEOTHEM OF STUPULOSE SEQUESTRATION IN RAGDOLL REMIGATIONS THAT SWIRL INTO VERTIGO BECAUSE OF VORAGINOUS CENTRIFUGE EMBALMED BY TITANISM IN ENGROSSED TRAPEZE OF TRACTION IN TRAMONTANE GROOMERS OF LIVID LORE RATHER THAN BUTTRESSES OF HORRIFIED MASKIROVKA IN BALATRONS OF BEAMISH BOUNTIES CAROUSING THE CAJOLE OF CONTUMELY BEYOND THE CARNAPTIOUS FITS OF CATAPLASM IN METAPOLITICS BECAUSE OF THE FISSION OF NUCLEOTIDES INTO THE PERCOLATED CARAPACE AND TESTUDO TESTIMONY TO THE ARCHAEOLATRY OF DISCOVERED INNUENDO BERGAMASK RIJUICE IN PARCHMENT CORRADED FROM RUNAGATE FLAKMENTION BECAUSE OF BELLETRIST FOUND IN THE SUMPTER OF SUNDOGS BECOMING MORE PALATABLE TO THE CULTURAL IMPERATIVES OF TIMEWORN FENESTRAL WANIGANS FOR THE CAREWORN ANTIPATHY TO RECEDE BENEATH THE CRAVEN CAVERNS OF CAMISOLE DENTICLES OF IMPUDENCE. THE RATCHET OF SUBACTION WHICH IS NEVER AN INTEMERATION OF BRITSKAS OF  SCHMEGGEGY BECAUSE OF RANCID NEUTROSOPHY WHICH IMBREVIATES THE RADICALIZED IMPERTINENCE OF GLOWERING IMPOSTURE OF WHIGGARCHY BECAUSE OF MASCARONS THAT DRIVE MAHOUTS TO THE BRINKS OF DESTRUCTION MIGHT THE SCALARIFORM REPUTE OF PEDIGREE AMONG DOOMSTERS OF DRAGOONING WHIPSTAFFS THAT FORM THE UNDERBELLY OF TAFFRAIL PREROGATIVES THAT UNDERGOES RETROMORPHISIS WHEN IT IS FETED BY PRIMIPARAS OF RAISONNEUR DISREGARD PRIMARILY BECAUSE OF TITANIC NOYADES OF FOLLY BROWBEATED BY LIFEBOATS AT THE EDGE OF KATABOTHRONS BECAUSE OF THEIR TRENCHANT FORESIGHT RATHER THAN RUDDY COMPLEXIONS OF INTRANSIGENCE UPON GRAVID MOUNTENANCE ABOVE THE RALLYING CAUSES OF THRUSH AND THRESHING GNATS OF TRIBAL SHIBBOLETH SUCH THAT THE TOWERING DEMASSIFICATION OF THE VENEREAL SIDLING TILT OF TORMENTS OF ABARTICULAR TERRORISM IN REVANCHE AGAINST THE BARNSTORM OF OUTSIDE MALCONTENT RATHER THAN INTERIOR BONFIRES OF BONHOMIE THAT STRENGTHEN THE NUCLEAR FAMILY FOR AN AGE OF STOPING STULMS THAT SERRATED SOCKDOLAGERS FAIL TO BREAK NETTLESOME NESH REGARDS PRIMARILY INCIDENTAL TO THE METAPLASM OF ALL DISCORD DIFFUSIONS THAT TROUNCE ULTERIOR DAYS OF YESTERTEMPEST BECAUSE OF YIRDS AGAINST THE PEOPLE THAT ARE SWORN TO UPHOLD THE YOGIBOGEYBOX THAT IS THE SWORD THAT DESTROYS THE BASTIONS OF EVIL WHENEVER THEY ARISE BY DISCOVERING EVERY SERENDIPITY AND AGGREGATING EVERY TRIBULATION CHALLENGED BY DEGREES OF INSUFFICIENCY BEYOND THE OLIMS OF REMIGATION RELEGATED BENEATH THE CAVERNS OF INTREPID TORCHIERS OF LAMBENT LOVE AND BRINKMANSHIP. ISOVOL MAZUT BECOMES A MAZOPATHIA OF ABIGAILS TOWERING IN THE VERTIGO OF THEIR OWN CELSITUDE MIGHT THEY REVANCHE ALL THE MAJOR PREROGATIVES OF HIERARCHICAL SUFFICIENCY OF PATRIARCHY BECAUSE THEIR BROCKFACED BRONCHOS AGAINST INTREPID AND PIONEERING BRITSKAS IN ALL OF THE SOCIAL SCIENCES REMANDING THE IZZAT AND IVRESSE OF EVIL NEUTRALIZED POLTROONS THAT THE STOMACHERS OF TRINKLING RETROGRESSION IN REMOTION OF TOURBILLONS BECAUSE OF EDGY FLOWERING BUMBOATS OF BUMICKY BADIGEON WHICH ELECTS THE NOMOGENY AND NOMENCLATORS WHO SUSTAIN THE ETHOS OF A TIME OF TRIMLY HEDGED BLUDGEONS OF CARNIFICINE YELTINGS THAT SPAR AGAINST SPARTAN YELMS IN THE YIPS OF JUMART DEBAUCHERY THAT NEEDS TO BE REDRESSED BY THE ADVANCED UMBRILS THAT SUSTAIN THE GROWING CATAPULT OF ISOTHERMOBATH THAT ENDANGERS EVERY HOLOBENTHIC AUTHENTICITY THAT THEY MIGHT MALINGER AROUND PROVINCIAL VINEGAROONS WHO TWIRE WITH THE TYMPANY OF RESONANCE AMONG RALTENTION FOR THE UPPER HOUSE OF JORDANS TO BURROLE THE JEOPARDIZED DEPTHS OF SPODOMANCY THAT IS OFTEN IGNORANT OF CLADOGENESIS FOR REASONS OF EGALITARIAN MISTETCHES THAT FAIL TO ENCOUNTER STOCKINETTE PRIMARILY BECAUSE THE PURBLIND RECTOPATHIC AGENCY OF THOSE SUBLIME TITANS OF TITANISM MIGHT SWERVE AWAY FROM A USEFUL JAUNDICE BECAUSE SUCH A TRIBULOID OPTIMUM MIGHT BE THE DISCOVERED SPRINGBOK WHICH IMPROVES BY STULTIFYING THE SKELETONS OF JAMDANI THAT THEREBY THE RAGGED RAGDOLL JOLLY RANCHER SOCIETY OF INDOLENCE BECOMES MORE AMBITIOUS BECAUSE OF THE STANHOPE OF GROWING  STANNARIES OF THIGMOTAXIS IN CAREFUL TRIAGE AROUND STANDPIPES THAT COUNTERACT ENTHYMEMES OF NIVELLATION AMONG THE GROWING REGARD OF SUSSULTATORY SPAVINEDS THAT GROW IMPATIENT BECAUSE OF THE WROTH OF MUGIENCE IN WHEATENED CITIES EMBEDDED BECAUSE OF THE WHEELHOUSE WHEALS THAT SUSTAIN THEM INTO BRACKISH OLIVASTERS OF THE PERFORMATIVE GRACES OF OUR HERALDED HEYDAY OF TIME INFORMING PAST ZEITGEISTS WITH FUROR AND MACROBIAN MEGALOGRAPHY TO ISSUE THE  GROWTH OF TIMES HONORED BY THE GHAWAZI AND THE JARABE ALIKE. THE STANG OF BANGTAILS OF THE ARENAIDAN ERAS WHERE THE ARGALI OF ENCHANTMENT WAS A VEXATIOUS ***** OF FULGURANT NOMOGRAPHY BECAUSE IN THE MANIFEST DESTINY OF THE SOCKDOLAGER EDICTS OF THE PAST THAT SCORCH FROM THE SQUALLS OF FREEBOOTER WALLETEERS THAT USE WHELKY IN THE BARNSTORM OF GROWING WALDGRAVES WHICH BECOME CENTRIPETAL TO BYRE IN THE NEUTROSOPHY OF ACELDAMA IN CONTENTIOUS VIVAT BECAUSE OF VARSAL VISCIDITY WHICH DECLARES ITSELF THE HONORIFIC CAPTAIN OF ALL BETOKENED TIMES BECAUSE WE CANNOT WITHSTAND THE BEBLUBBERED MAUDLIN PATINAS OF WHIGGARCHY BECAUSE OF BRAZEN BOLDFACED BALD EAGLE PATRIOTISM BECAUSE OUR BLINKERED AGE IS ONE REGNANT UPON NEBBICH PALLOR OF CETACEAN EMBRACERY WE MIGHT DISCOVER THAT OUR PAST BRONCHOS OF THE CELEBRATED PARAGONS TOO LUMINOUS TO BE REGARDED PROPERLY BY THE CONTRITION OF MERCY IN MERCILESS TIMES WE HONOR THE PEOPLE THAT DEMARCHE FOR FUTURE POLITY BY EXHIBITING THE BOLD FRONTIER OF REVOLUTIONARY WIREWOVEN SCIENTIFIC AUTARKY THAT BECOMES MORE AND MORE ENTRENCHED IN PRAGMATIC REFORM IN CONSERVATION OF RESOURCES AND SCALED AND SCOPED ECONOMIES THAT UNDERSTAND THE PROBLEMS THAT AFFLICT BODACHES AND THE PROBLEMATIC JAUNDICE OF SENICIDE BECAUSE OF A NIDOLOGY INCOGNIZANT OF REVERENT DOYENNE AND SITHCUNDMAN WHO WEATHERED THE IGNORANCE OF TIME LIKE GROGNARDS THAT ARE OFTEN DISPLACED BY THE WAINAGE OF WAPENTAKE AND MANIPULATED INTO POPULAR FUROR BECAUSE OF THE NIVELLATION OF THEIR ATTENTIVE CANVAS OF PURBLIND PUTRID OSSIFICATIONS OF RAGMATICAL RANTIPOLE HATRED THAT MOBILIZES AGAINST AGENCY AND INVOKES LACKADAISICAL RAMSHACKLE ELASTANE LAZINESS. IN OSTENTATION WE BELEAGUER EMPTYSIS PRIMARILY DERIVED FROM FRACTURES IN THE SCAFFOLDED ARCHITECTONICS OF AURILAVE INDOCTRINATION TOWARDS THE SCHMEGGEGY THAT DEFILES MANY HONORED ARGUMENTS WITH THE PLUMAGE OF DISTRACTION FOR PRIMORDIAL BALUSTRADES INCULCATING PAST SARVODAYA ATTEMPTS INTO THE POPULAR SCOURGES OF IMAGINATIVE GLEE THAT BECOMES THE SPECTER OF ALL ATTENUATED FORESIGH THAT DENOUNCES THE UPSTARTS WHO ATTEMPT TO MODULATE MERCURIAL ENVIRONMENTS WITH AUTHORITATIVE SQUALLS THAT SPAWN SEMINAL MOVEMENTS THAT OFTEN YIELD UNHINGED CLOVERYIELDS THAT ARE COMPLETELY FINIFUGAL AND RAMBUNCTIOUS BECAUSE OF THE TAMARAWS WHO SEEK TO ENDEAVOR BEYOND CLIFFHANGER JUSTICE TO ENTHRONE A NEWER INSIDIOUS DIKEPHOBIA BECAUSE OF NIDIFUGOUS INSISTENCE OF NANCIFULLY NIDAMENTAL DISAGREEMENTS THAT DISDAIN THE POSTCENNIUM WITH IDEOLOGY GLISTENING BY FACADE BECAUSE IT FAILS TO SHIMMER IN THE DEEPER AND DARKER RETROSPECTION OF HINDSIGHT CORRADED ONLY FROM ELEMENTS OF PARVANIMITY AND BARYEICOIA. THE DIFFUSE PROTRACTION OF THE DIESTRUS BY THE UPSTAYS OF COACERVATED DIABLERISM CHARGING RACKRENT FOR PETTY PRESBYTERY PRIVILEGES IS A GOUGED HUCKSTER OF URCEOLATE TIMBERLASK JAMDANI STEENBOKS TRYING WITH URGENT URCHINS TO DESICCATE THE ENVIRONS IN EVERY SPANERIA TO ENSURE THAT THE RHADAMANTHINE ENVY OF THE GAUNTLET OF EVIL BALATRONS PARADING THEIR COSTERMONGERS TO BODACH VEGETABLES TREATED OFTEN WITH GERRYMANDERED SENICIDE MIGHT THEY RIG EVERY ELECTION WITH THE PSEPHOLOGY OF AN EVIL JUMART THAT WORKS AGAINST MESSIANIC TRIBUNES OF TRUTH BECAUSE OF THE BALDERDASH OF CRACKJAW MACROPICIDE PRIMARILY OUSTED BY THE ENTRYISM OF MEHARIS PREPOSSESSED AS WALLETEERS OF THE BILKEY OF WHELKY TO EMBATTLE THE SOCKDOLAGERS OF ISOLATION AS A TRIBULOID STOCKINETTE IN PURBLIND RECENSED REVERSAL OF RETROMORPHOSIS. WE CANNOT STAND APART IN APARTHEID BECAUSE OF THE DIACOPES INFLICTED BY THE ENVIRONMENTAL SKULLDUGGERY OF THE ELECTIVE PRIVILEGE OF TESTUDOS OF AILING MALADROIT AISLINGS OF ONEIRODYNIA BECAUSE OF LOLLOPING AND LOIMIC PLAGUES OF WANIGANS OF WANCHANCY RIGGED FOR FRIGOLABILE VANGERMYTES ATTEMPTING JATOS OF LICENTIOUS LICENSE AGAINST THE KENSPECKEL MEGALOGRAPHY OF PROMACHOS SUFFRAGE BECAUSE OF RIBALD AND COARSE ENVIES ABORIGINAL ONLY TO DULLARDS THAT PERVULGATE MYTHOS IN THEIR CORROSIVE WORLDVIEW SEEKING THE WIDEST FOOTPRINT OF CRETACEOUS BOWDLERIZATION IN A WEAK AND PALTRY INTEMERATION FOISTED BY THE WORST SORORICIDE OF FRATERNAL TRUST BECAUSE OF BROCKFACED VILLAINY TO TEMPESTUOUS TO IGNORE OR FLOUT BECAUSE THE STOKEHOLD SPOKESHAVEN WIDDERSHANCY OF CIPPUSTURE IS THE MIGHTIEST FORCE FOR UPHOLDING INTEGRITY EVER WAGERED ON CHRONOPSYCHOLOGY BECAUSE THE UPRIGHT URCEOLATE OCREATED CREATURES THAT EVADE EVERY NOYADE AND ANTICIPATE EVERY CHANDELLE MIGHT THEY REBUKE THE EVIL WEGOTISM CRIPPLING OUR TIMES WITH JIMSWINGERS THAT USE RAGMATICAL WHIPLASH AGAINST DRAMATIC WHIPSTAFF TO PARALYZE THE PROGRESS OF THE LONGEVITY OF TIME ITSELF PROTENSIVE IN DURESS TO SCAFFOLD THE BRIMBORIONS ABOVE THE BARRULETS BECAUSE OF CARDIMELECH PRAXEOLOGY. WE LIVE IN A VERY DISEASED WORLD THAT SEEKS IN ITS SICKEST HUES OF REVANCHE IN THE EXCLAVES OF TYRANNY OF MENTICIDE BECAUSE OF ORGANUILLES WE FIND THE DESPOTIC DESPERATION OF THE SURQUEDRY OF SURDOMUTE RETARDATION THE NEW APLOMB OF THE COUNTERCULTURAL DIABLERISM OF ALL SECULAR FORCES WORKING TOGETHER FOR DESTRUCTION RATHER THAN CIVILIZED CAMARADERIE WHICH IS BRAZEN ENOUGH TO SURVIVE EVERY WOODSHEDDER AND EVERY CHOMPING SHARK OF RADICATED TYRANNY OF TINSELLATED ABEYANCE BECAUSE OF OBROGATIONS IN INTERREGNUM. WE NEED TO DESTROY THE PEOPLE THAT INSEMINATE IN THE SEMINAL A CARNAL LUST THAT DEPRAVES ALL PERCOLATIONS SUCH  THAT THE HALKEND BECOMES A PARASELENIC PRACTICAL JOKE OF STULTIFICATION BECAUSE OF ROORBACKS ROARING AGAINST YERNAGE FOR SPECIOUS SOPHISTRY THAT MANACLES THE ONEIROCRITICISM OF AN UPRIGHT AGE OF OPHILIOPHILISTS RATHER THAN DECADENCE INSTRUCTED BY THE WORST MONGERY OF MONSTERS WHO CAROUSE AS INSOUCIANT PURVEYORS OF ADAMANTINE RIGORS OF STRAIN AND STRENUOUS DIVERSION. WE CANNOT STOMACH THE EVIL DIABLERISM OF GOETICS DERIVED FROM THE PERCEIVED SAMIZDAT WHICH PREVENTS ALL GEZELLIG AS A SICK CABALLINE PRACTICAL JOKE OF MOUNTAINS OF EVIL DISTRUST THAT WHERRET ALL MUSICIANS OF THE IAMATOLOGY AGAINST NOSOCOMIAL WHICKERS AND NEIGHING CAULDRONS OF MUGIENCE IN WROTH AROUND THE ISOLATION OF ONE PERSON FOR THE BOODLE OF ONE DERANGED ORGANIZATION WORKING IN EVERY ATTEMPT TO SABOTAGE ALL FREE MOVEMENT TOWARDS ENTELECHY AGAINST THE BETTER ASPECTS OF WHIGGARCHY OFTEN DEFAMED BY THE PERJURORS OF EVIL FLAMBEAUS THAT SEEK COMESTION AND CONFLAGRATION REGARDLESS OF THE NIDOR BECAUSE OF THE INTRANSIGENCE OF THE SUBTERNATURAL COSSETED PETS OF AUTHORITARIAN REGRESS IN THE STENCH OF  RANCID TRUCULENCE TRUCKLING ITSELF TO ROTUND EVIL OBLATE NUTATION IN MENDACITY.
I'm a golden cami-soul
i can easily explain,
i'm a camisole in the rain,
i'm more naked than a woman,
than if i were kissing a man,
to free myself from dreary kids,
and life itself.
they aren't mine, they are mine
those ****** amenities.
Those darned lost years, the flying wick,
Job after job, noth-ing would stick,
i'm back to being a lady of the night.
It's my birthright.

I'm a winter cami-soul,
no eyes, no mouth, about 4 feet tall.
Drunk on my allusions, i'm out of wine.
I'm out of time.
I'm hanging clean out on the line.

his breath awaits,
the iron of the pulpit.
every one but the bartender,
says i "told you so".
I'm silken as a pair of jeans,
i'm a dime.

-cbran
using hellopoetry as a notepad
TJ Struska May 2020
Its all tickety boo
Mnemosyne,
All the squirrels go swingeling along.
Here, have another.
How did you hear about yourself?
Perhaps from the flatware,
They all had lunch one us.
Voluptuous potato pancakes
In pickling brine.
Who would draw up such schematics?
Prudent farming engineers, that's who.
My lesions are legend,
I know them all by name.
They came up all Humpty Dumpty.
It configured a conflagration,
It was like a coming out party
We took up a collection,
It was a formal gratuity-
Like graduating from Radio school.
Who said "ALL ****"?
Sounds uppity at the cocktail convention,
With the swaggering lounge music.
Its really quite benign,
Like sipping soup through a straw.
Its been factory sealed for your protection.
It's safer than a school of sleepy piranhas.
Have I blown the 9 hour interview?
I wore my best Captain Crunch uniform,
It's standard issue.
I checked the latest at Phlegm Central,
They said I best check my shirt.
Then we had light refreshments.

Later that Century,
I was feeding the current machine.
Greedy Son Of A. B!#ch,
It was such a de-happening.
It became much to empirical.
Like a month of Tuesdays every other weekend,
That's the price to be paid
When you haul it up. Snaggletooth Mountain.
It was bemusing, if not hunderstruck.
We crossed into the International Sinus Zone,
From there it got a bit hazy-
All the trains were late.
It went well with the weather.
Cletus wore his camisole nightie,
While I was in my haberdasher hair shirt.
It effulgent, in mocking undertones.
It's peanut pastime of reinforced paint peels.
How does that make me an irregular object.
Let's all get up and March
To the swinging sounds of Sherezade,
Forgetting your conscience as we sidle along.
Hold up the Opera while I make up the lyrics.
How do you turn this **** thing down?
Many poets try to sound like other poets. Me included. I am trying go go back to natural voice.. I'm not putting a star out there. I would like to see if my natural voice sells
Third Eye Candy Nov 2020
when your breath is my breath i hardly notice
far too focused on the cadence of your camisole
heaving in synch with invisible me
thrumming with worlds of visible Life.
I surge in place. stunned and besotted.
shivering in a stillness so beloved
that an orbit stalls
for a kiss

As I hazard Joy.

— The End —