I met a woman
brutal in her mercy.

Her embrace was a clinch
to prevent hard blows.
She pulled me close to push me away.
Seeing my nakedness
she leant me a dream
of chainmail and shield.
Taking love from me she gave a reprieve
to a mind resigned to the slow death of feeling.

Ignoring my words she heard
my faint silent heartbeat and
understood that it was music
too quiet for the world to hear
and turned it up louder
than I could stand.
I wept in my deafness
as she danced.

Lost to backdrops scrolling past,
She sits knitting
in the carriage of a train.
The vague needles
They scintillate and glimpse
With the cadence of the wheels –
Upbeating ceaselessly.

Strips of tiny loops
And eyelets like dewdrops
Of condensation
Grouped on the superior rim.

Once in a while,
She gives a heave
To loosen more yarn from the skein
Of Filipino-made wool,
brushed worsted weave.
Spun and carded
from the richest fleece,
Deeper in the wicker basket by her feet.

The needles flash,
With ancient rhythms and attack
Of duellists in their chainmail coats.
With little hesitation she can tack
From plain to purl to blackberry.
Count back by rote or slip a stitch
While the fish-eyed gimlets gleam.

All gather profusely in her lap,
As windfall trove, rich-patterned
And warm with peach-fuzz nap,
All crafted from a single line of yarn.
Marvels fall continuously from wise
Spell-binding hands and all is well for now.

(9/11/13 @xirlleelang)

I found out today
That I carry around chainmail
Similar to the Knights during The Middle Ages
But its more unreal
It protects me
And tells me not to spill my emotions
Similar to protecting the knight

It holds everything throughout the day
And at night
Everything within me crumbles.
I take off this "chainmail"
And i go into those dark alleys of my mind
Some with no escape
I try escaping with my plentiful books
They sometimes work

Other times its hell upon myself
My friends, and i regret it every time
But its a cycle I fail to stop
Unlike my real bike which failed me yesterday

This chainmail, its good and all
But I wish I didnt have to remove it
I dont want to make my friends suffer
But they still do.
I learnt to bottle it up…
Like thats going to help.

Just, need kevlar or something

Lie, my Queen, tell me lies.
Tell me lies so I might
Sleep soundly tonight
And fend off
With your beauty
The scarred faces
That haunt
My nightmares.

Lie, tell me that I can fit
Inside a knights chainmail.
Tell me that I'm okay,
That I'm not just another mind
Who's gone
Just a little bit mad.
Who knows
Just a little bit too much.

Lie, tell me that
The love,
The hope,
The life,
I see in my sleep
Will never be real,
Will never be mine.

Of angels and butterflies,
You spoke the softest lies.
So lie, my Queen, tell me lies.

this palate is an anvil
this tongue a hammer
forging the edges of words
reversed

Dangerous dragon eyes
burn the stars
and scorch the skies
as the warrior lets
her silver blades fly,

Bronze skin
battle maiden,
******* in chainmail,
spear and shield
on her back
as she tracks
the beasts
who attacked
random villages.

Like a Valkyrie
she walked past me
with death on her breath.
All power and confidence,
she passes on to face this
monster in the darkness.

She moved like
a ballet dancer
rushing in
and striking him
in the place where
his scale skin was thin.
then rolled back
before the dragon’s attack.

Fire and fury
bare skin scorching
forcing her
to retreat
but only for
a solitary
second.

Claws cutting,
tail swinging,
scales scraping,
scratches stinging.

The ground
running
with the blood of
both combatants.

One arm
a ragged mess
of jagged flesh.

One dragon eye
destroyed while
sulphur and smoke
choked the breath
from her parched throat.

Long neck charging
as she parried
in a twirling fashion
letting the dragon’s head pass.

It moved quick
but she was faster
and matched that *******
primal fury.

Short silver
sharp dagger
nested itself
slightly above the neck
as the force of the animals
violent
movement
cut itself
making a long sick ****
as it lunged past fast
and finally fell
in defeat.

It was a starry night,

I remember the moon was bright.

As I sat in my canopied room

Atop the inn of gloom,

Its musty stench of walls and flesh,

Surrounded by dim light and floors below, strewn

-

At first I was anxious and nervous

About the spectre’s appearance

But something in his presence was calming

Curious as it was, I was longing.

-

He was not ghostly in the way you would think

He was as real looking, enough to drink,

Though it was something in his air and aura

That told me his demise like Gomorrah,

And how he was perished and dead,

And with these rotting words he said

-

“Gaze upon me and listen well,

For your silence I wish you not quell,

My words you will not stir,

You will absorb and then, good sir,

I will reappear as those who’ve been

You yourself and died again,

You are the last and only one,

Upon earth to know this secret done,

You will understand this true confusion

And soon be rid of your delusion.

But I warn there is a painful price,

In cherished aforementioned gift so nice

Of that you will find soon

And your burning soul will croon.

-

My name is High Lord Kellik,

And my touch you’ve already met.

You’ve felt me here before,

I walk with you, ancestor, but more.

I am the first of you in this lone world,

I suffered what once was unfurled.

-

Now know our cryptic secret revealed

Of the same bloodline congealed:

To all of us who are one,

This life is not your only one.

-

I’ve risen again from fallen,

I was in Jerusalem

When my Lord he calleth,

God chose not to follow them.

I was of the Tuetonics,

Though my death was quite ironic,

For they had me drawn for heresy

And quartered for allegedly

Stealing an Arab’s maidenhead

Even though my wife was pregnant then,”

(At this sentence, twas there I noticed,

The chainmail and a cross of lotus,

Betwixt his breast and penance

He seemed holy, even justice.)

“I loved my wife from first gaze through labor,

Twas the last I saw of her, I savored

The love in her eyes when I lost her.

All I wanted was to adore her.

They led me into ‘court’ they said,

Twas to be my own deathbed,

And when they called out all my sins,

Of course I denied, being pious within,

Although my truth they would not have,

I again suffered my brother’s terrible wrath.”

-

I spoke my first words, shaking, unstable,

Asking questions gated in stables,

“Sir, I know my silence is needed,

But I request some answers conceded,

Why did they not trust your pure enough claims,

Brothers, as you said, seeking no gain?”

-

Spake he “I understand your logic,

Twas mine although my brothers were stoic,

You see, it is the terrible price

That I spoke earlier, a wretched vice,

To know the things that we will tell,

You must know the darkest hell,

You must know that you will die

A most gruesome death without comply,

Because we are one, it must happen and then,

You’re born the same, to die again.”

-

I sat silent for a moment and pondered,

I thought of a tree that aimlessly wonders,

About its life serving no purpose,

To grow leaves and die, its only service,

It seemed of me, so pessimistic

To know this life is quite solipsistic.

-

He continued,

-

“Know that I had the easiest death,

The first brother-blade did pierce my chest,

It struck my heart, and I must make amends,

That is why none of us will find love again.

-

I was of the knights most valiant,

My fervor was the most resilient,

Whatever we may ever be,

It is irrelevant, you’ll die like me.”

-

Shocked, I sat in euilibrium,

You’d think it peaceful

But my world was undone,

It forever changed that starry night,

And was only the beginning of my hellish fright.

-

Lord Kellik departed there through my door,

I heard no steps upon the floor,

I thought it odd for plate boots to make,

No sounds on oaken plates of estate…

-

Soon my door was reopened again,

I looked up and gazed at him,

At me, twas now I started to see,

Resemblance in us, for no helmet he wore,

But rather a coat of a Hessian he bore,

He masked the same look I see on myself,

When I’ve been through darkness, my own hell,

The blue eyes like mine, were mine, and hair,

Dark brown, and had a piercing stare,

German accent had he upon conversing,

“Wie gehts? Ich heisse Kryztoff von Gersching,”

“Hallo Kryztoff, mein namme ist Andrew Marheine.”

-

“There is great hate between two factions,

Two worlds, once one, under taken action,

The English came and fought and tried,

The way Americans denied

The rights of those that were first here,

I was hired to broaden their fear.”

-

Surprised at his English,

I also switched,

“Sir, I noticed that your neck is stitched…?”

-

“A wound from battle, the only lucky

Thing that ever happened to me,

But knowing what I do know now,

I would pick severed jugular to doubt.

My unit was captured by a group of guerrilla yanks,

They slaughtered us each unless we joined their ranks,

In this massacre there was no honor,

In sending home bodies, lost sons and fathers,

I steadily refused to be a part,

So they began tearing me apart

Until they then realized

I would gladly be crucified,

That just for that, that I despised,

Each one of them for their “freedom” lies,

Their General King, although respected,

Washington should not have defected.

You see now where democracy has led,

The better off, are the lucky dead.

I see you ask of what I died?

Of what brought about a Hessian’s demise?

The gutless ******* shot me with small cannon

Direct in my stomach, you cannot fathom,

The amount of pain in three long hours…

I wished for death, but not from cowards.”

-

He was proud looking, but not Narcissus,

Battle worn, and quite seditious.

I noticed his sword, the handle notched,

For every inch of life he’d squashed

Like a child’s boot to an ant hill.

This man died alone and still.

-

He spoke once more

-

“You have been blessed with knowledge and wrought,

You though will be turned to naught,

The pain you’ll be in, too much to endure,

Your arteries pumping blood to the floor,

We know not how you will die,

But painful be it, no chance to survive.

Because, like us, you have no one here,

Like us, not missed, no tragic dear,

Your name be forgotten until

The next of us lives to see us fill.”

-

He exited without another word,

I found it quaint, unlike the herd,

I strove to be different, I suspect I’ve succeeded,

After all, who knew their death, and believed it?

-

Wondering if I would again be visited

Or if my passed lives were but two limited,

I also thought of how they appeared…

I could not recall how the first had veered,

Or why they ventured to me and told

Me of their stories that would make hearts cold

Stuck with this thought, another come forth,

From my wooden frame of door,

His brilliant armor, black with silver,

Across his back, a sheathe and quiver,

He looked at me, and I again saw myself,

And again saw another me been felled,

“Hello,” I said “won’t you come in?”

“Obliged,” spake he “see what lies therein.

-

He began,

-

“Young man, you know not missing your home,

But I come from the brightest years of Rome,

Although I knew only Coliseum

I hoped my soul be with Ellysium,

I was a slave in the rich man’s bloodsport,

And the crowd, they cheered for more and more,

To live every day knowing you must fight,

Can bring great depression to one’s very life,

Caesar said I could in time be free,

I fell my last fight, suffering,

The anguish that flowed through me at then,

Was not of physical harm, but when,

My bowels were visible on the ground,

All I could feel was loss never found,

I swore allegiance to men never met,

And all it brought was discontent.

Never think twice about an act,

It could save your life until this pact,

Although you will die, nameless forever,

Know that even the smallest endeavor,

Will not change this predestination,

This marvelous melancholy is Hades’ invention,

We will not wake until we’ve slept,

The eternal slumber, and mourner’s have wept,

About a loss that is so profound,

Until they forget why the feelings endowed,

Are the enemy to their own happiness,

They then know not of what ‘revolting’ is.”

-

This nameless man stood up and gazed,

Outside of my withered window pane,

His eyes lightened and looked ever broken,

And I could see a man who’s life and freedom were stolen,

If ever I had wanted to cry in confrontation

It would’ve been at his lamentation,

But I bit my tongue and held back from that,

Although he noticed with eyes like a cat,

He smiled at me, I smiled at me,

And it was then that he began to proceed,

Out of my door, and out of my eyes,

I thought about my ending surprise.

I now knew death was not to be,

An old man while I was in my sleep,

But rather a darker, gruesome end,

Perhaps lacerations from within,

And as this trickled across my brain,

I could swear to God I went insane,

I sat in my room for weeks despaired,

Tasting nothing except the stale air,

and then one day it finally clicked,

That life is what it is, a foul ******* trick.

I built a Berlin Wall around my heart.
Not to keep others out,
but to keep myself in.
I built the walls higher
until no light could get in
and I stayed there.
I may have been alone
but at least I was safe.
Safe from you and your sugar coated words and electric touch.
Protected from the lies that seeped from between your lips,
and god, just your lips.
I kept myself away from your impish charm and devilish smile.
I had to,
I couldn’t let you in
Because when you broke me the first time
I could hardly manage
to pick up the fragments
and build them into something that at least resembled the girl I had been before.
A shell of what it was.
I added armour.
Heavy chainmail to keep me away from your beckoning embrace.
Was it worth it?
I’m not sure.
But the over flow of emotions
that I swam through every time I saw you
was drowning me.
So I built a raft and let it take me away.
I put myself here but now I’m trapped,
stuck in my own mind and stuck in my own heart.
It’s a terrible place to be.
Trust me,
you wouldn’t want to be here with me.

the words were like a chainmail
plain and uniform and impenetrable

"Oh, yes. That hurt.
That hurt like a thousand slaps from a
Thousand teachers each. Like

Dragon claws dripping with bile and
Venom into male ego exposed. Ego
And pride and the nature of the bottles

Of labelled **** that you threw back,
Chickening out on cold, hard reality.
Once again.

Friends and lovers lost, some long,
Some not. All gone with the wine. You
Could have written volumes by now.

Recorded legendary albums, created
Art like few others.
Yet, every millidrop of your

Blood screams for someone, or
Something rather, to take you
Away from all that's everyday.

Be it even war." Well,
I want peace, now.
Battleworn and

Empty from facing all the same
Demons. Chainmail shredded,
Body worn on the inside from

Aqua Vitae and ale.
It hurts. It hurts like a thousand
Freshly sharpened pencils carving

Into the exposed areas of my love
For bad nostalgic habits and
Days after days with drink, laughter

And inhaling
The air of temporary excitement,
Picking at scabs and naming myself

Surgeon, letting the hearts of others
Pick up my tab when one of us
Inevetably leaves;  

Those freshly sharpened pencils
Carving mantras to keep me alive
And wake me the Hell up, like:

"The people I
Need do not
Need me like

This," and
*"I have
Pride."

sound the horn ;
The dead are preparing for war, my
gut is a forge they cannot find
Who hides Hephaestus' phoenix inside
chinks of rattling 
chainmail ; 
feather-
beak-
claw(ing)
up gravestones, RIP(ping) breath from
Flesh

So when the skies tremble to hear the
wailing of a burning sun-set
,,,
they will ride in, a silent scream of glowing-iron-hell-fire-
Hail :::
Daughter of Echidna
will You 

lead us

to victory?

Morning was sudden-made as an onwardness of hills,
Meant for donning crusade in chainmail glistenings,
The sun visored in misty slats of cold steel,
To glimmer fusty through the godded grove,
A holy sepulchre, earthly-dim to its rafters of oak,
Where the forest-fall of sunlight shed its rosework,
And a red-breasted bird, its song-flight of dappled gleam,
And in the meadow, where colorful whorled the tale of Saladin,
Wayside flowers shook beneath the destriers' cloth caparisons,
A sunny fullness of vales for the crusaders' forest-heartened lungs,
And when this furthering of sights was sunken from,
Still an onwardness of hills to Jaffa like steppingstones.

Our eyes are near
and my heart is hot
but your stare is cold —
a thousand miles away

Your words are clear
and time has stopped
there's nowhere to go
my thoughts are broken and blurred

Sweet lips, your sweet lips
Carry such a bitter sound...

I'm floating in place with
no lover to face

trembling, trembling
trembling heart space

I'm spinning in circles
looking for miracles

and it's proving to be
horribly difficult

Trying to fly
with no wings to spread

I crumble and cry
a song for what's dead

the sound of alarms
ring in my head

the sound of alarms
ring in my head...

I'm trying so hard
I don't know what to do

My heart is aching
thinking of you

A small square of paper
sits on my tongue

With razor sharp edges
and tasting of dung

It takes me to spaces
deep in my mind

Where there's too many places
and not enough time

I've been drowned in guilt
and I'm suspended in shame

Repeatedly killed
like in a video game

Written upon
the sharp paper square
are words for destruction
and guilt and despair

It's a trip like no other
you won't even feel high
you'll feel like a bother
and just want to cry

Drifting in place
dead in deep space

You left me here with
tears on my face

Crystalline droplets
scintillating pearls

spinning in circles,
spirals, and swirls

Why did you think
to leave me alone

at the cold ugly brink
a frost to the bone

the cold hard shoulder
feels far colder
than a lifeless boulder
I'm cold, I'm
cold

I speak with my music
and these notes are my words
My harp is my voice
and these strings are the cords

I try hard to play
But you've cut them all off
My harp is left bare
naked, unstrung

I'll move all the pedals
But unto what end?
I can't speak my heart
I can no longer pretend

It's time to stand up
and take a great bow
Walk off the stage
The end is —
.....

and
There is a silence
in the mist, hidden
between the little
droplets, whispering
rivers of soft words from
past lovers evaporated~
.....

together
we held hands
and in our palms
we held time

and we ran away
from the rising sun
so we could see it
rise forever

but we grew tired
and we slowed down
and the sun sped up
and time was slipping
between our fingers
dripping
from our knuckles

and together we ran
we ran away toward
the setting sun
as fast as we could
but we were too tired...

and
you showered me in
silky sheets of glowing lovelight
you embraced me with
warm rays of shimmering soulshine

you pushed and pulled my ocean's tides
in and out like a lilting melody
making love to a perfect harmony

but slowly you
drifted away
into space
to shine on new rocks
leaving me cold my
ocean waves
still...

and
For the longest time
I wanted to thank you, thief
for stealing my heart.

I thought it'd be better off
in someone else's hands anyway,
because I sure as hell
didn't take good care of it.

Can you tell me about the time
you carefully held it close?

because I'm sure
that you can remember that
because that's all you want
to remember.

It was your
little pet.

and I can't tell you
how much it meant to me
that you found it so
intriguing...

but I can't tell you
how much it hurt when
it stopped being something special
and started being
just another animal

Don't you remember
how much fun you
had with it?
Mm..

But you don't remember
watching it struggle
to breathe in
and out?

Because it seems like
despite that

all I can remember now
is your tightening grip
suffocating it
carelessly
and your acidic lip
spouting seemingly
ceaseless
abuse

Tell me about the time
you played with it
until it was broken
and it bored you

Because I can sure
remember that.
but can you?...

Oh!
Batshit crazy,
Batshit soup.
Am I just lazy,
or caught in a loop?

Batshit crazy,
Owl **** soup.
Razor blades,
Razor blades,
Razor blades,
****!

Love is not a competition,
Love is not a game!
You see me as a player,
and it's a downright shame!

Batshit crazy,
Owl **** soup!
I am totally lazy,
and caught in a loop-die-loop?!

Glass houses
Baseball games
Angels wings and tar
SEPTA lines and pine trees
Can take you pretty far

Love is not a competition,
Love is not a war!
and acting like a soldier
is really quite a chore!

Silly souls
Wacky words
Dragonflies and tar
I want to make some art with you
but I don't know how you are!

and
it's
Just another slide
down the razor blade
of life! into a bowl
of sour owl ****...

Batshit crazy,
Owl **** soup!

Am I crazy,
or am I caught
in a loop?

Razor blades
Razor blades
Razor blades
****!

and you are
ribbed, but uncaged, and
you read like a book broken,
with a cracked spine, snapped,
always opening to
the same page

the wrinkles stacked
dendritically, along the
ragged column, show
where you were split,
down the seam,
in a fervent attempt
to be figured out

your leaves are worn,
dog eared, and torn,
with words used, and
defiled

unadorned,
sickly souls

forlorn figures,
sitting silently

wishing and waiting,
no kissing or playing

it seems that you've left me,
and you're all I want to read...

blistering sunsets
burn my skin

I watch the ball of love
get further from me,
falling a w a y

It was always out of reach,
but I could feel it's warmth!
as long as it was in sight,
but, no longer

It forms rivers from dry wells.

In it's absence
it has them brimming,
now overflowing, down
channels of skinclay
wrinkles

they run deeper,
than the roots of
the tallest trees,
falling slower, than
the softest cries,
unheard

rocky river ways
froth from the mouth,
splashing and bubbling
in maniacal sadness —

silent white water rapids...

Tussled and unkempt,
shriveled livers beg for mercy!
hidden behind layers of rotting drywall

a rusty sledgehammer.

—unused

You may want to take me inside
but your mind is a million dripping daggers
perpendicular to the infinite edges
of my circular paradigms.

your cold soul wraps around me
like a chainmail suit.

I want to love it, as
it's supposed to love me, but
it's heavy and pinches every fiber
of my existence

and why should I wear it
when I want to run into love
completely naked?

My name is derived from Tyrant
I would say you should have expected it
but I am not one to take someone's heart
that is the ultimate crime.

Can't you see that you've stolen your own?
Look in the mirror! Unfurl your ****** fists.

Now my fingers are ablaze with hellfire!

and
My unseen tears
condense onto windowpanes
as they're smashed open by codependent assumptions.

Blinding
blunt force flashlights
shatter sharp shards of light
across the darkest crevices
of my soul.

Impatience
and uncertainty
leads to reactionary behavior.

Do not plant flowers
in the gardens of someone
who cannot take care of their
own plants.

Their soil is unsaturated
with nutrients.

How can you expect to enjoy the fruit of their love?

I am a withered plot.
I am the dead of winter.

No one is interested in how it has died.
They are only upset that they can no longer feed themselves.

What you see is what you get.

I see my resolve like wax to fire.

I will be the phoenix from the ash.
I will not grant them my laboured breath in anxiety,
only pleasure.
You may have bruises, but only on my skin.
I smack
I choke.

Keep your hands off my heart.

Although I know that I would wear it like a black eye, shining, if only I had the belief.
Give me a something to chainmail my smile.
Only arrows can get in.
And only those with the intention to aim true

I went to my friend
almost afraid to expose the need
I found as I read the book,
not knowing if he would be deaf to it.
As I spoke of my father
who was not there
to show his boy how to be a man
I recounted my losses
and the load of grief I felt.

My sadness clung to me
a heavy suit of chainmail on a dark knight.
I could feel my face
drooping in lamentation
unable to be the smiling grinning buddy
I normally brought to the room.

Seemingly unable to enter into my pain,
my friend, a man of great intellect, character and conviction,
responded only with a litany of his own.
I tried to listen but my burden
made it a mighty climb.

Now I know my pal is only human
and I am wrestling
with my self
sweating MY
deafness.

let pure water wash away
the remains of the ray
let it clear all but my conscience
as the moon shines brighter
as my shoulders bare, are weighted lighter
the chainmail as ***** as I feel
covered in blankets of blood

I cannot sleep, I cannot rest, I cannot deal
I cannot stop
I will fight until I drop

wash it away
wash it away
still, invisible scars remain
they stain
they stain
they stain

I know you always saw yourself a knight
But I did not realize for a long time
That I was a page.
You were my sparring partner
Who taught me to come at the world
Gun drawn
So no one could out-shoot me.
You told me,
And I know,
That Justice wears a blindfold because
She slashes her sword indiscriminately,
And looks at that scale
Never.

You always saw yourself a lawman
I always saw you as a fool.
I never realized I learned law
At your feet.
Fallacies and ways of
Drawing out argument and diatribe,
Loopholes of morality through which
We spin.
You taught me to be technically correct,
The best kind of correct,
Always exploiting but
Always within my jurisdiction.
I only know now I was a deputy
To a sheriff of ridiculous stature.

You taught me THE ART OF WAR.
It was engraved in stone for me
Like an all-caps Roman monument.
THE ART OF WAR
Is sprawled across a stone archway in my mind
Where you came, and you saw.
It marks your conquest.

You made it my way of loving,
Of relating to the world and the people around me.
You made me a martyr and mercenary,
Standing atop a hill in golden armor,
Sunlight behind me and wind in my hair,
An avatar of Durga,
A disciple of Joan of Arc,
A four-year-old poses in chainmail
You wrought for her.
Illusions of grandeur such as your own
Come with this territory.

You taught me
As your mother and father
And grandparents
Taught you,
THE ART OF WAR-
That love is just begrudging words of sweetness
Issued only after ruins lay all around
And both parties are sufficiently vulnerable,
Their bricks having been pried away with crowbars.
Love is only an apology given to mollify
The wounds you have already wrought.
The only privilege loved-ones are afforded,
Is the bandage that covers up the customary
Destruction
That is your normal face.

You and I only ever knew love as
You clipping my wings
And I breaking free to spray
The shrapnel of those chains
Into your face.
We added to each others' pile of scars.
It was so rare for us to run into battle together,
On the same side,
Voices as one in a battlecry.
I don't even know how long it's been since
Us soldiers-for-hire got hired
By the same team at once.

You cast me out of steel
Like a sword.
And now I am the legendary blade
Destined to clash against you for all eternity.
We will only ever know ceasefires
Of a day in length.
We will run through the flame,
And we will practice the art
You taught me.

Ports 1961 just announced their company’s collaboration with iconic sportswear and boxing brand Everlast, made famous by the world’s greatest boxers and actors. The collection is now available in stores and on farfetch.com. Milan Vukmirovic, menswear creative director, has revived his Everlast classics such as the “Rocky” hoodie and other essentials. They are all adorned with a trademarked star camouflage motif. Unveiled on the catwalk at the runway show that opened Milan Men’s Fashion Week, this collaboration is a tribute to the fighter inside us all.

A true highlight of the menswear collection, Ports 1961’s signature men’s bow sneaker was also a hit. Their bow sneaker features a distinctive suede bow on top instead of laces or more predictable fasteners. Each pair of bow sneakers is raw-cut, hand-stitched and hand-knotted to be uniquely distinctive to the wearer. As well as bow fasteners, the sneakers can also be opened and closed with a central zipper in the heel for convenience and ease of wearing. These sneakers are available in fabrics and shades to match this season’s garments in classic raw-cut suede and leather. For comfort and durability, they feature hardy rubber soles.

Fashion East Men’s presentation for autumn/winter ’17 offered a significant designer lineup. Fashion East, with the continued support of Topman, was excited to reveal a double billing of bright, emerging talent. Sponsored by London Fashion Week’s Menswear, the showcase featured up-and-coming designers Charles Jeffrey Loverboy, Feng Chen **** and Per Gotesson.

A Central St. Martin’s MA graduate, Jeffrey is an illustrator with a radically creative style. For his Loverboy label, his cast included artists, musicians and friends who stomped stylishly down the runway. They created a club-night scene that the audience identified with immediately. Jeffrey’s tailoring was impeccable. His signature knits collaged with chainmail showed up with Swarovski bug-encrusted boxers and foam accessories.

**** was born in Beijing, but her business is based in London. She launched her label Feng Chen **** in 2015 after the completion of her MA at London’s Royal College of Arts. ****’s 2017 collection explored and celebrated connectivity in the digital age. She combines functionality with an astute attention to detail and puts a strong focus on outerwear pieces as the core of her collection. Her clothes are available in New York City.

Gotesson is originally from a small town in the province of Smaland in Sweden. This London-based designer is also a graduate of London’s Royal College. His looks are voluminous denim pieces in classic blues and monochromes juxtaposed and worn with white tops. The collection played with proportions and was an experimental take on the designer’s own wardrobe. “It’s about scale and about finding balanced pieces between either huge or small,” he explained.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/mermaid-trumpet-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/backless-formal-dresses

My man-o'-war lies anchored 
silent after crossing endless seas
as I stand on the gangway
bathed in midday heat.
The olive trees on the hillsides
grown ten times taller 
since I left you here
to seek my worth
in battles with strangers.

Heavy coats of chainmail
have worn maps into my shoulders
those engines of the trickster's axe.
Though no man or beast has won me
not a queen I have not taken from her king
I still fear to stand before you 
unarmored and vulnerable
before your patient inexorable love.

Your pure love 
is my greatest adversary
yet you carry no sword.
You challenge me everywhere
yet you sail no ocean.
You know I am weary
yet you do not mock.
You have simply waited
for my hard road to end.

My heart stops
in mute surrender
as I lift off the last battered chest plate,
undo the sterling braces from my legs
steel falling like glass
around the pirate's helmet
tarnished at my feet.


Though a lifetime of war
has crippled my gait
I run with reckless abandon
to that open door 
on the welcome street
the place I left
for no good reason
where you have endured all these years
holding the only blade 
that can sever
the lover from the rogue.

Some fingers have this tendency
to crack, snag, and rip themselves
to shreds.  A flurry of something like daisy
petals cling, infinite single cell threads
waiting for the right he loves me
not to fall apart.

Some fingers shed their tired
ridges in fluttering crescent smiles
peeling from the edges of soft pink nails.
They pull away like feathers ruffled
out of place in a sudden updraft,
bent at too-sharp angles.

Finger skin was always the strongest,
never flaking just because, but for the effort
of work and teeth.  Those hangnails bleed
strength.  They drip patience, hours
of work in restaurant sinks,
needlepoint and dresses.

They bleed music, lullabies.
A chorus of little sopranos sing
to tiny babies in cribs built
by driftwood scratched bone-smooth
and tough as chainmail.

I am shrouded
In forced laughter.
Chainmail with
Weakened links
Of bitter tears.
A suit of armour
Grudgingly,
Necessarily,
Worn on a straight back.
The weight of
Expectations born
Of a weary soul
Will not bow me.
The true steel
Lies in my heart.

I used to think I was
Thought nothing would ever touch me
Could ever
Yet once I awoke I found this was not the case
Seemingly everything got me

I used to think I would always be
Thinking that such thought would never plague me
Could never
Yet I found the more time passed
The more those thoughts hit me

I liked to think that I was
For the sake of me, for us
Impervious was a trait I had to hold
Without it, I'd be a mess

Over time I became Impervious
People words couldnt touch me
They held no meaning
Why do your words hit me?
How do they cut me through chainmail will?

I am Impervious, I am Imperfect, I am Impure, I am Ignorant
Simply I, *me
Am Impervious to the way of this world
All but to you, who solely holds my strings

I used to think I was Impervious
Now im not so sure...

riverrun past eve and adam so
fast it tossed up my chainmail
vest. For a second it shone my
tattered back battle scars.

I’m not one to reminisce
about bad times but the fish
I had wrangled had rattled so fierce
I bell ****-boreward into the fox
of fishing hooks.

Dangling pirate hands shredded
sails salty water waves filled my
whales -- “ARR ME BACK”
The fish cackled and got away.

The boat was in the Abiquiu river, a ways away
a way a lone a last a loved a long
the riverrun

I wonder what it takes to be like you
So blinded by the lies you think are true
In confidence, you strut your ridged plain
Unaware that you are walking on a plank
Fear Worn like sheer took to wind and away

I wonder Are you happy when alone?
Do thoughts of Doubt reveal themselves at home?
emotions suppressed, do they flood the surface
Of the barge you have built to resist
Growing large demons form in a cyst

You stand and call yourself a man, but
Oh Boy, I have met your kind before
Stuck in your ways like a kid on a train
Riding tracks that have no end in store
Oh Boy, you are in for a ride

I wonder why it is you choose not to see
A world as it is, as you are, Just be free
From the armor of ignorance you wear outwardly
Grab at the chance to wash rust from The skin underneath
Your perception like chainmail, linked with deception, traps truth that is needing to breathe

You think you know the lay of the land, but
Oh Boy, I have met your kind before
Stuck in your ways like a kid on a train
Riding tracks that have no end in store
Oh Boy, aren't you in for a ride

Oh Boy, You walk on a bridge made of sand
Hallucinate the belief you've found land
But what will you do when your men turn to you, and you realize you're without a plan
Oh Boy, where then do you stand?
Stuck in your ways like a kid on a train
Oh Boy, you are in for a ride

You may want to take me inside
but your mind is a million dripping daggers
perpendicular to the infinite edges
of my circular paradigms.

your cold soul wraps around me
like a chainmail suit.

I want to love it, as
it's supposed to love me, but
it's heavy and pinches every fiber
of my existence

and why should I wear it
when I want to run into love
completely naked?

My name is derived from Tyrant
I would say you should have expected it
but I am not one to take someone's heart
that is the ultimate crime.

Can't you see that you've stolen your own?
Look in the mirror. Unfurl your ****** fists.

Now my fingers are ablaze with hellfire.

A woman kneels on the edge of the cliff
She carries a child in her arms
Her tears fall to join the black sea
She holds the child's tiny palm in her hand

The woman looks up as she prays
But her prayers cannot reach her god
A thick film of smoke obfuscates her wishes
A barrier born from the destruction of her village

The king's men quickly approach
She knows they will not spare her
For she does not believe in the same god
She will be thrown into the flames with her companions

The woman turns to her pursuers
The men in chainmail are closing in
She knows they will **** her before they **** her
For they see her as a pagan savage
She sees them as the same.

She looks back to the black sea
If she is to die, she wishes to die with dignity
She clutches the child tightly
And she steps backwards.

Has my skin turned into chainmail,
Or am I just heavy with missing you

My hands shake, how could they not
without you to hold them steady

Has my heart turned into a ghost,
Or did it just sneak off to be with you

My mind wanders, how could it not
without your heart to be my North Star

In olden days there lived a wife
Whose noble husband courted strife
He loved her little - just at night -
This knightly treatment wasn’t right.

He found her in the woodland wild
And took her for a wayward child
Making her his own for pity’s sake
While long regretting his mistake

Belittling her at every chance
Their love was lacking in romance
And when they came to Arthur’s court
He served her up in rags for sport.

But Queen Guinevere took pity
And dressed her in her finery
At which the husband fell for her
And took his way without deter.

At last grown slothful in his lust
He betrayed his knightly trust
And the lads of the Round Table
Questioned whether he was able

To sally forth on jousts or quests
Or polish up his chainmail vests -
And what is more said they made good
On any wants of knightlyhood.

At which he rode away with umbrage
Treating her as wayward baggage
Although he took her nonetheless
To keep the score on his contests.

He ordered her to ride ahead
And keep her tongue inside her head:
While he sought out each noble fight
She found a camp and cooked at night

With trolls and bandits on the way
She saw them first but could not say:
Distracting them she made them blink
And looking back gave knight-ward wink

But when the champion won the day
He sent her forward down the way
Driving chargers decked with *****
No words of thanks in line of duty.

Til in the forest depths a maiden cried
Beset by fire and to some ******* tied
A morsel for a dragon roast or fried
The fiery beasties’ shawarma undenied.

Then Enid much beguiled the monstrous worm
And calmed its embers with her nubile form -
While Geraint freed the nymphet from the stake
She shared her story with the horned snake.

At length she found her knight had upped and left
Leaving her beset, bamboozled and bereft
But then the dragon taken by her grief
Gave her the gold that stuck between its teeth.

So, she took the stolen armour that she held
And girded up with lance and sword in belt
Giving eager chase to nymph and errant knight
To teach him his behaviour wasn’t right.

She came upon her hubby in a glen
Enticing Elyse to a bowered den
He had fancied her since way back when -
He cut her bonds but tied them back again.

Then much in wrath our mounted maiden rode
Resplendent in her anger, brave and bold
And brought to joust Geraint the Oversold
But he took flight and fled the combat cold.

And Elyse was overcome with gratitude
For this gentlest of stranger’s hastilude
That he should save her from calamity
And never once assail her chastity.

‘Young Sir, my love is yours as you desire
I am a princess and my lands are yours
Come live with me and be my noble squire
And I will grant you what you may require’.

At which the champion laid her helm aside
And tossed the curls she could no longer hide:
‘I am no knight young beauteous maid
But just a woman that misfortune made’.

When Elyse saw such woe and courtly care
She loved the girl who stood so sadly there:
‘It matters not my lover and my life
You are my choice and I your loving wife’.

And then at last they came to rest at Camelot
Where Queen Guinevere reserved them a spot
At her table (which was like Arts’ non-square),
Where all were welcome to partake and share.

And they grew old in honour and renown
With songs of courtly love that still resound
For they had found their holy loving grail -
That gentlest of knights and her beloved girl.

And last was heard of Enid’s ex-Geraint
He was the fearsome dragon’s catamite -
And labour as he might to stir its blood
The slightest recognition was withstood.

In physics today,
we learnt about
the Limit of
Proportionality.
Beyond that point
something stretched
remains like that.
Stretched.

I think my
heart
has finally reached
those coordinates.
Its scarred
permanently.
Beyond repair.

Sure
I fix it
with glue and love,
I fix it.
And each time it
falls,
It breaks again.

Its naïve. It's young.
It's broken.
Its more pain than love.
Somedays it just
stops working.
It gives up.

But my heart
has learned to
fight.

It's got a shield
of indifference.
A chainmail of hate.
It's iron and stone.

But its caged
that way
Can't live that way.
So I let it be.
I let it go.

Some days, it doesnt
belong to me.
But it comes back
eventually.
Because my heart love me the most.

Love is Temporary, kid.
Forever doesnt exist.
                                 ______
The skies have opened up tonight.
Its raining.
Finally somebody understands.
my heart cries with the clouds
And Ive finally run out of glue.

In light of this wakeful hour
the newly breaking dawn acknowledge the beasts
of burden inside

conspiring, their taunting jabs
pierce the fractured mind
unleashing the raging
fear inside

The choice is yours
A warrior stance
Golden chainmail
unyielding conviction

Inside illusions
amidst the darkness
The parasites penetrate
your amnesiac corpse

Unconsciousness breeds
obscurity as
Ignorance leads the disease
And apathy opposes interest
While judgement honours hate
And entitlement claims the mind

Encrypted codes lie dormant
Until the light bleeds in
A catalyst for the memory
Of universal motive

The time to eradicate fear is now
Employ, perceive and be Love;  
sit with compassion
Reflect around empathy
embrace kindness
breathe with acceptance

A peaceful heart
In the eye of the storm
breaks the cycle of fear
And so it begins again

The Alliance Project was silent as he thought of what Drent said. He then got up and shut off the computer, telling Drent, “Let’s think of happier things for now, when is my palace going to be completed?” “ You mean Message’s palace, she holds the Dahomeyian Rulership after all, laughed Drent.” The Alliance Project laughed as he said, “Okay, our palace, is that better?” Drent looked at the structure and said “It should be 4 months, and it would be like the White House.” The Alliance Project looked up and saw the sun that used to be Schmitan but was now the star that presided over Dahomeyia. He sighed and said, almost to himself, “At least I would have an open roof for the summer.” Drent patted him on the back and said, “That’s the way to think.”
Message looked at the Peacemonger for Strengthened Weapons with a harsh eye. The Peacemonger had known wars all over the galaxy, but never had he met a glaze that the one that came from his commander. Message slammed the Kingfather Scepter on the table and said, “Is there any threat you want to tell me about?!” The Peacemonger’s words came out half-apologizing, half-timid, “Well, there is something, but…but.. we always thought it was a myth.”Message pointed the Kingfather Scepter at the Peacemonger’s chest and said, “Tell me what IT is or you will go to meet IT in hell.” The Peacemonger started sweating profusely and said, “It lives under the sea of certain planets, and feeds off of lifeblood and courage. We did not think it was on this planet but we must have been wrong. That is all I know!” Message pointed the Kingfather Scepter away from him as the Peacemonger nervously sat down. He had heard of her father the Legate but even the Legate did not seem as violent as Message. His  new commander seemed….unstable. But he dare not say that out loud or in the presence of mixed company.
Message pulled out a map and said, “ We have to attack IT where he lives and destroy him. Any remnant remaining can multiply in the sea and continue to haunt our world.”  The Peacemonger stammered, “ Well, but…but… we don’t even know where IT is? And I heard when you say IT’s true name, your…I mean our planet starts to die. How can we fight an enemy that is everywhere and nowhere at the same time?” Message looked grimly as she started speaking to herself. She laughed and the Peacemonger thought, “Our ruler is not only unstable, she is insane.” Message then stood up and said, “Ready a submarine powered by the Supernovan force and equip it with Lifeforce-Seeking Missiles. The Federation has its first mission under me as Dahomeyian Rulership. This foolishness will destroy Dahomeyia over my dead body.”
“Yes your Majesty” The Peacemonger said as he walked out the room, his steps closer to a run.
Message pulled up the screen to talk to the Dragon Power about this new threat. The Dragon Power spoke and Venil  of the Dragon-Power said, “ We cannot say his name either, because the destruction that occurred before time warped our tongues so we cannot say its syllables. But it is a powerful deviance from the good, and has the power to destroy planets. We will send the two Projects to assist you, as well as the rest of the Federation.”
Message then pushed a button, and Arthur came into focus. He looked slightly confused as he was telling a cashier, “ No I want a chainmail shirt, not a chain store's male shirt!” She laughed as she said to herself, "They don’t make them  anymore, just like they don’t make you anymore. "Arthur walked into the dressing room and said, “ This is Arthur. Is everything fine, my Dahomeyian Rulership.”
Message nodded and told Arthur,
“Make sure to bring Excalibur, and I hope he is waterproof.”

Lovers' wanton "where" strings out
a mystery on chainmail airs. Outlandish signals
redirect off-stage some dull producers, sever tries
to hoist the classics, sullen, tied to water-
casting, free from gambled whims,
all spades & spires shuffle outward
dizzy after pain. Roll credits, feign the after-flash
of fertile come-across, impeaches fickle
livelihood to roam less traveled.
Put upon, this dust snuffs out
no finer match. Alight and stay
up-catching to the grim-wire news
that feeds us all three limbs from shades
of justice: error anchors līve
with words & buffer on their bread.
Await the wrath instead. Oustated
ample questionry upsold
to counter-rhythm: eat the fee
and freebase wrong to wit—
too long to carry it, too short
to carve an inkling out of sorts.