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Richard Riddle Jan 2016
Friends, there are many(I think, I hope). So, to be fair, I will respond with this.


"Stricly an Opinion"
October 20, 2014   8:40a.m.

On August 28, 2013, strictly as a novice, and not having posted anything, anywhere, I posted my first two pieces of "literary art" on the HP site. I had previously searched other similar sites until finally deciding on posting with HP. I'm glad I did.  Why?

Not knowing what to expect, I threw "1894", and "Folklore and Fairy Tales" into the "mixing bowl". Pradip and Sally were the first to comment, and I will never forget the encouragement their words gave me. Never! Quite often, I go back and re-read them, particularly when I get a little discouraged when the "writers block" syndrome decides to attack. Thank you both, so very, very much!

But that is the core of the HP Family. There is an aura, a special atmosphere of cohesiveness among its contributors, willing to offer(in most cases) constructive criticism without being cynical, and always encouraging each other. Making friends whom we may never see, whose hands we may never shake, but a friendship none the less, that is spread throughout the globe, with the thoughts that will always be there. It is a feeling I did not sense with other sites.

One thing is for certain. We never know what our readers are going to like/dislike on any given day. When we post a piece, of what we may think is the work of "pure genius" could go by the wayside in seconds. On the other end of the spectrum, what we believe is not so great, could trend in minutes.

We will keep trying.

Richard Riddle
copyright: October 20, 2014
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
Being cared for
Here's the  adored door

Inside playing he pours the hearts

So like him the ricochet
Deeply love so cultured
My pearl crochet

Deeply cared about I got you
under my skin
I win your love ticket

The spool of
wool hit the floor
To the extreme
The sensitive mind

  And his feeling like the escapee finding
the higher
religion keeping that in mind
The everlasting  to be cared for or
not to be never lasting like someone
lost its hunger fasting

Waking up deeply recharged or
reproducing to
her neverending fairytale

Much deeper than 69 eye love shades
Deeply cared for beyond his loving
It comes and fades
Like Monopoly  "Godly Sun-Seeker" keeps
passing us
The game of life charades
Like Persian babies their
button nose deeply cared for to cuddle
The warmest meows hug and save

Like flour to sparkle, it deepens
like our mix, a love needs
to be worked on 
 do you really
care to fix?

But sending all the details
the lines soften pale pink rose
I felt your red fire putting
out the coldness fire and ice
To be saved on time
Like the fire chief,  
Acted like a French chef what
a love roue of the hose

Like silk my millennium  milk,
He held my finger but not
to sulk he said buckle up
What firmness and tightness
arm to arm wrestler such
bulk

Never to swear but a little lie 
  Wouldnt hurt my delicate
pinky finger
In her loop with her fur
deeply
Stepped into her mink

He's the frontman
Fresh cut lemon
Yellow sunshine
happy medium

I was wearing my hair middle parted
The picture slide the made man
Tied back my hair was deeply
Smooth talker well conditioned
With what conditions all recollections
But three strikes when you care for
someone you  don't fall out of love

  This world loves to be pampered
Cared about not scouted
All hole marks in the road badly routed
 With tons of work with the question mark?
The sign stayed with her
Deeply care about?

Like a play date let's pretend
You're both a handful
Like beer malt lips
Engraved love in the barrels
To feel deeply loved  he acted
Like the riddler

The beach her eyes were waiting to be reached
Sunset playing the fool marionette overly preached

So I  Bette
Beneath her wings
In the middle of their wed to be isles
The Green Gables emerald rings

Miss spinster-Sara Lee cake
His jeep was all she could take
How it ended up
In Greenwich Village then shipped
To Mystic Seaport Connecticut
The movie cut Cape Cod Massachusetts
The four letters in his pocket
Deeply 1 care 2 about 3 love 4

Needed a jump kickstart
Her breakfast  start of the day
 deeply cared for his way
He stumped over her honey
bunches of oats lips

The website
Go, Daddy acting love silly
The hot fun in the
International city
The UK that's OK
Mr. Bo Jangles spoiled deeply
*** in the City single
Deeply getting hurt
The Sin City

Did he see her progress
All over Twitter
He was so suited but lost
his tie twinkle tweets
Do I really live my life to dare
or deeply care?
I am ****** British give me
my English breakfast teas
for keeps
The King ain't got that swing
She acts too much like the Queen

The Royalty of love sanity
The heaping fine grain sugar spoon

(Duke of Earl gray) Deeply love Thee
But always came way too soon
She is the domestic cat going frantic

Great discoveries, and that's that
  Internships tug-cash or the hogwash
our colleagues  
The deep end "Crazy Eights
On the tenth physio natural
phenomena convent

All the Kingman no swords holding her
wrench
and knight horses unfortunate events
One day creation camel ride for miles
Reaching higher levels of toxins
and morons
Or teaching MLM  you asked for it
"The millionaire lost minds"

Were human TLC tender loving care
Like some playdough to the rooftop
Of Mentors, did they care
Who we deeply care about family
But more concerned
about the rise of money inventors
Even if life really *****
Oh! Fiddlesticks

The Moaning of life
Bring the Idiots aboard
The ***** of the night

He kinda ducks by the end of
your ***-light
Flex-body deeply cared for
Rumors and all philosophies
The shower like you was slashed
Left you bone dry without the cash
The thrill is gone your lovesick

She-devil  coffin red nails split Twilight zone

  The stars were in your corner
He deeply cared for you he was
your health kit
The Botanical Gardens

Like a figment of your imagination
Se demure you needed a
Florence Nightingale flower cure
To lift your depression to smile
You thought someone cared but all
misinterpretations

All misconceptions and misdemeanors
She takes so long putting on her
French lip glide Chanel liner
What could be ever cared for finer
Deeply digging holes like a miner

The solar rhythmic pointed finger
to the stars

So systematically
making a wish
just like everyone else
To plan your game
the game makes the plan
You deeply cared for delivery
Was I the care package

You weren't someone
just anybody like
A city dump garbage

Deeply wanting and waiting
So merely or rarely was it coming

Deeply seeing the next generation
The spectacular sunrise
White wicker twin set swing
Your heart pulls back but it was
so close to swinging forward
Moving towards your
accomplishments
The mess was all ****

"You have the exceptional mind like the beautiful mind"

People, you came across friends
Also, contributors  not the enemies
The country and the continents
Deeply cared for landmarks
The monuments how you love
her birthmark taking her hand

The Godly land such will command
moonwalker deeply cared for
All watered deep soul of lovers
The world of hands and
words became
such an impact

You felt like the creature so extinct
Things we deeply care about or no one doesn't understand our feeling we move or fly in all directions just to get the right affection
~
April 2023
HP Poet: Sarita Aditya Verma
Age: 47
Country: India

Question 1: We are so happy you could be a part of this, Sarita. Tell us how long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Sarita Aditya Verma: "I have been writing for the last six years (19th October 2016), that was the first time ever I wrote to express myself. I have been a member and have posting here at Hello Poetry since December 2016. This is the only place where I share my words, sometimes a copy of the same with friends who are willing to read. Hello Poetry has been my sacred space, I feel blessed to be here."


Question 2: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Sarita Aditya Verma: "Nature has inspired me forever, be it rain, sunshine, trees or the blooming flowers. The length and breadth of vivid times and emotions. I usually write about the experiences in life, as I lightly observe around. Sometimes it could be a photograph, a painting or even my morning walk. In general, the geometry of life and the rainbow that shines. That’s how poetry happens to me."


Question 3: What does poetry mean to you?

Sarita Aditya Verma: "Poetry is one of the best experiences in my life. It has given me a sense of belonging, a space which is totally mine, brought in a lot of clarity, and words have set me free. 'Sometimes poetry, mostly life, unwritten quotes destiny shall write'- is what I believe in."


Question 4: Who are your favorite poets?

Sarita Aditya Verma: "I have been a science student, and haven’t had much exposure to literature/poetry in my graduation years. So it would be unfair to quote any of the greats here! Robert Frost and Mark Twain are the ones whose works I have enjoyed reading in school. The rest, most of my reading and learning experience, has been at Hello Poetry - from the many great poets and poetesses who share their wonderful work here, and I am grateful for that."


Question 5: What other interests do you have?

Sarita Aditya Verma: "One of my other interests is photography, I love the geometry of the subject- it’s all about angles and curves, and right moments to capture. I am drawn to nature and street photography. I am still into the process of exploring and acquiring the skills. I also enjoy listening to upbeat music :)"


Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much, Sarita! We are really excited to add you to this spotlight series.”

Sarita Aditya Verma: "Thank you so much Carlo, for interviewing me here. I truly enjoyed the questions and am eager to know about and read from other contributors at Hello Poetry :)"



Again thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed getting to know Sarita a little bit better.
– Carlo C. Gomez (aka Mr. Timetable)

We will post Spotlight #3 in May!
~
Below are Sarita's favorite poems of hers and links to each one:

Bonding Free:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2943925/bonding-free/

The Words:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2704113/the-words/

Boundless Love:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2367490/boundless-love/

MastMaula:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2442476/mastmaula/

My Dear Poetry:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2331828/my-dear-poetry/

Recycle:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2028389/recycle/

Sharing the links to some of my older poems, hope you like them :)

Thanks and regards,
Sarita 🙏
judy smith May 2015
Catwalk creations and cutting-edge designers will be turning the North East into a glamorous showcase this week to delight the most dedicated followers of fashion.

NE1’s Fashion Futures will make its debut at Baltic in Gateshead on the day that also sees student collections unveiled there in Northumbria University Graduate Fashion Show.

Wednesday marks the start of NE1’s two-day fashion-steeped extravaganza of shows, talks and panel discussions and the event, a first for the region, is attracting big names in the fashion world such as British Vogue editor Alexandra Shulman, top designer Henry Holland and home-grown designer-to-the-stars Scott Henshall.

It is born from local business champion NE1’s Newcastle Fashion Week which ran for four years.

The idea is to bring the best aspects of that together to shape a whole new-look affair which will culminate in a Fashion Front Row event on the Thursday evening.

As well as highlighting the mark the region has made on the fashion industry, with North East-trained designers on the guest list, the event promises a perfect opportunity for anyone keen to learn how to follow in their successful footsteps.

High profile brands Mercedes Benz of Newcastle and international footwear designer Terry de Havilland are sponsors of NE1’s Fashion Futures which is organised by marketing and events manager Sandra Tang.

She said: “The event and its contributors highlight the strength of the region’s fashion industry, will help us celebrate the city’s fashion academic heritage and hopefully encourage a new generation to enter the fashion industry.”

This year’s Northumbria University Graduate Fashion Show, called FASHION, will be held at Baltic during the first day and the catwalk show is set to attract buyers and industry figures from around the world.

Then Thursday will see the main programme of free Fashion Talks run from 1pm to 3pm, aimed at young people interested in a career in the fashion industry.

There will be plenty tips to be had from the likes of Henry Holland who is known for his eye-catching designs and fun style.

He will be in conversation with fashion journalist Laura Weir and giving an insight into his life as one of the UK’s leading fashion designers. He has dressed famous celebrities, won international acclaim for his collections and sold designs in glamorous outlets such as Liberty.

Alexandra Shulman will also take to the stage to talk about her own life and work and give advice to any aspiring designers as well as style journalists.

And there will be a panel discussion with fashion experts including former Northumbria University students Michelle Taylor, founder of luxury lingerie brand Tallulah Love; Charis Younger, a menswear designer at All Saints; and Kate Ablett, a senior designer at Berghaus.

Joining them will be Terry De Havilland’s managing director Darren Spurling.

That evening’s Fashion Front Row event - a popular feature of NE1’s former Newcastle Fashion Week - will then showcase the best of the North East designer talent.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-melbourne | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth
These city lights look for all the world to me
like some spellbound amnesty
but in reality
they are the building blocks that bring the nights
so I can see
what is to come and what will be.

Like ships at sea that head to port
we're caught
and cast upon the waves like bread to be dispersed
saved ,reborn and nursed by those well versed
in maritime and chandler's stores and sending those back through revolving doors to drown again,
and how the night pours down on me
slipping quickly through the city light where the building blocks become another knock,a twist of fate,and being cruel would stand and wait,while I, the traveller stand and hesitate
to go on
to stay?
an end to an end or a beginning that would send me some hope,no pope here to bless me or you,just another city night to fight and fit tightly through until the morning comes and runs my fears away.

I stay and am obliged to those contributors,interlocutors who saw me,spoke, and watched me as I broke upon the morning shore,
score one to me and city nil
until tonight
when we will fight again.
anastasiad Dec 2016
Your online business going okay, however handling each of the wok relevant to human resources, following the costs, employees' program, in addition to giving answers to requests in addition to conditions involving consumers bogs a person all the way down. To get over most of these limits a online business owner people, applying blog that can saving time and funds is the foremost alternative.
A app's web developers have gone all out to generate utility-based programs. Select the kinds that really work to make your task straightforward. What follows is a report on a few apps that are helpful for business enterprise development and also administration.

Call Scheduler

While creating a business enterprise and also endeavoring to grow that, you require dialling and also discussing with many. You can neglect to someone and also skip out phoning a significant shopper. A Scheduler is undoubtedly an app that helps one to pre-schedule many calling and also sms, with a preset time and date. This practical application sends this mail messages and also message or calls automatically. In case you can not connect, it endeavors to make contact with all over again.

Fuze

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DocuSign

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Evernote

You may need place to keep almost all valuable information and concepts you come across every day. Evernote is like a record this helps your storing involving minimal information in a single. You can keep video tutorials and also sound recording extras, pictures, records, and information up to and including utmost minimize of 59 Megabytes per 30 days, inside free release. You only pay a compact selling price for any increased model that can retail outlet far more files.

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Basecamp

People your own team may need to work intended for finishing a task. Basecamp is really an software that delivers one particular watch dash board having links to your task. The particular app enables the challenge supervisors to interchange information plus talk about information in the dialogue typeface and then determine documents, chores plus the date connected with end.

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Dropbox

Dropbox is really a file-sharing software that offers numberous perk to be able to companies. The appliance syncs records across units and you can reach these people in the area. That is a efficient technique of sharing files and folders using your group members with regard to improved upon alliance.

Crystal clear

Personal time management is vital to building a thriving enterprise. Crystal clear is really a time-management software pertaining to iPhones in addition to Android os equipment that you can use to organise plus set up day-to-day perform. The application also has the ability with establishing pointers to help you. From the justifiable software, you may draw all the way down plus crunch a task and swipe it off the actual monitor one time it truly is about.

The majority of the wordpress already stated can utilize or perhaps provide a free trial offer interval. Try using those dreaded that meets your company needs. In the event that an application just isn't helping you, there are other flashiest wordpress, using the same operates, available. You will definately get several that will be useful helping the work productivity of the organization.


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Through voracious eyes devotees, peruse writings, clever literature all styled to thoughtful poetic ways
eloquently, exposing wounds of body and soul, discovered distrust, anger much regret, sadly even fear,
thereto shortcomings in life, of people, their actions, loves and lies promulgated in illuminating phrase.
Technology endows contributors with outlets for venting suchlike occasions using artistry is here.

Passionate poignant experiences most well written, some not are duly shared to attracted communal eyes.
declarations of 'I have cared so much I'm wounded mortally', some bask in lost or unrequited loves last kiss,
several employ inner strength 'whatever happened, I don't care, I'm resilient, I survive', shared with poetic pride
concise verses rework obvious reminders, may motivate suggestion that opportunity shouldn't be missed.

Modest words abundantly profound begin remarks that reassures, with the - I'm here for yous'- symbolic embrace,
in support it is written, 'I know what you mean' and from a great distance - empathise, but I have little to say.
Health issues aren't fixed by artistic pennings, only face to face professional advice forms the strongest base,
Writings from the poetic inner self  may become positive steps, for futures not, staring in depressions face.

Much is written with sensitivity oft-times is judged by content, overlooked is why and how it is composed.
For instance suicide  educes fear however. dubiety invites, is it fiction or truly despair?
Writing as an art observes, describes, creates imagery, of sadness and joy, escapism, fictional or no.
Poetic creators who web-wide commune through stories, thoughts, secrets, ideas, dreams, let the poetry be shared .




Poetry www    Michael C Crowder 12th  January 2019 @scorsby
my thoughts about poetry its content and writing skill
Richard Riddle Jun 2015
October 20, 2014   8:40a.m.

On August 28, 2013, strictly as a novice, and not having posted anything, anywhere, I posted my first two pieces of "literary art" on the HP site. I had previously searched other similar sites until finally deciding on posting with HP. I'm glad I did.  Why?

Not knowing what to expect, I threw "1894", and "Folklore and Fairy Tales" into the "mixing bowl". Pradip and Sally were the first to comment, and I will never forget the encouragement their words gave me. Never! Quite often, I go back and re-read them, particularly when I get a little discouraged when the "writers block" syndrome decides to attack. Thank you both, so very, very much!

But that is the core of the HP family. There is an aura, a special atmosphere of cohesiveness among its contributors, willing to offer(in most cases) constructive criticism without being cynical, and always encouraging each other. Making friends whom we may never see, whose hands we may never shake, but a friendship none the less, that is spread throughout the globe, and the thoughts that will always be there. It is a feeling I did not sense with other sites.

One thing is for certain. We never know what our readers are going to like/dislike on any given day. When we post a piece, of what we may think is the work of "pure genius" could go by the wayside in seconds. On the other end of the spectrum, what we believe is not so great, could trend in minutes.

We will keep trying.

Richard Riddle
copyright: October 20, 2014
Derek Yohn Oct 2013
The fall of Rome is upon us.
I have spied it from my window,
i dare not intrude.

venimus
vidimus
vicimus
(ourselves)

The slaves are in revolt;
the Colliseum burns,
flames tenderly licking
destruction and freedom,
a beacon in the
dark autumn night;
Carthage has embraced
its high sodium diet,
it now seeks equality;
the Senate lies in ruin,
much as it always has,
now bereft of contributors.

Ego autem relictus solus devius,
faciamus nobis effugium.

Come, fair plebian lady,
get in my chariot,
i will 'Billy Ocean' you
all the way
to the end of the world,
because some things never change.

veni
vidi
vici
NOTHING
per memet

ita reliqui,
empty-handed
my new fair plebian in tow.

Roma victa.
translations:  
"Ego...devius" = i am the only deviant left now
"faciamus...effugium" = let us make our escape
"per memet" = single-handedly (literally, by myself)
"ita reliqui" = so i left
"Roma victa" = rome conquered, or victory to rome
" veni vidi vici" = i came i saw i conquered (i used the plural "we" instead of "i" the first time
Daisy Daydream Jul 2012
He could write only perhaps a page at a time so scarred was he of losing the brilliance that he had somehow found again. After a few minutes of writing he was haunted by introspection reading back on what he had just written he couldn't escape the notion his words had been penned by some greater man and if he were to continue, to add to it, he would only be lessening a beautiful portrait. The effect was that each page he wrote looked like a biography with each chapter recorded by a different writer giving his work the disjointed feeling of having many contributors all compiling their experiences to tell this one story. He had never bothered to understand Durkheim's theory of alienation, but he imagined it was something close to this – not recognising himself in every story he wrote, only knowing that it was somehow someone different each time and that they were all trapped somewhere deep inside him.
shireliiy Sep 2015
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Richard Riddle Aug 2015
"Pettiness, and jealousy, go together.

But, there is not a place for it here on HP. We write what we wish, what we feel, how we feel; about our lives, loves, adventures; our spirituality; we write because it's a beautiful hobby for many of us, and not to begin a competition as to who can do better.
There are so many on this site whose talent I so admire since I joined the site 2 years ago. Because of this nonsense, we recently lost a great writer and friend, whom I will miss terribly. Those that participate in the pettiness, jealousy, hatred, and discontent, are in a minority. Hopefully, the other contributors, writers, poets, essayists, old and new alike, also realize this. Let us not give up our seats on this "Poet's Train!"

copyright: richard riddle-August 18, 2015
Richard Riddle Dec 2014
On December 16, 2013, in my work titled "Thank You",  was the first time I used the term "Poet's Train" for all of the contributors to the HP site. For that is exactly what it is. It also reminds me of times that have passed.
My grandparents lived in Joshua, Texas, a small town not far from the city of Fort Worth. Their house was only about 100 yards, or less, from the railroad tracks. Every evening around six o'clock we would hear the faint moan of the first whistle. My brother and me, both little tykes(6-10), would run to the back porch, anticipating the subsequent whistles from a huge piece of machinery. As the whistle grew louder, we could see the column of smoke billowing from the coal-burning engine as it neared. All of a sudden, there it was. We weren't the only ones that stood and watched, for there is something magical about trains, that attract both young, and old.
Our biggest delight however, did not lie with the train itself, but waving to the passengers and engineers as it passed, seeing them wave back, blowing that whistle in gentle acknowledgement, as if saying, "Good to see you, thanks for coming, have a great day!"
So it is with the "Poet's Train." When a piece is posted the whistle blows, each piece becomes a boxcar. Each writer, a passenger; their computer, the engine, and every reader waving as it passes. Its length, infinite, with no caboose. It will come the next day, the next night, with new passengers, with new cargo. I love it. I really do!

copyright: richard riddle, December 19, 2014
Richard Riddle Nov 2015
Originally written and posted in December, 2014, I like to re-post it occasionally for all the new writers, poets, essayists, and, of course, any new 'readers'*.

On December 16, 2013, in my work titled "Thank You",  was the first time I used the term "Poet's Train" for all of the contributors to the HP site. For that is exactly what it is. It also reminds me of times that have passed.
My grandparents lived in Joshua, Texas, a small town not far from the city of Fort Worth. Their house was only about 100 yards, or less, from the railroad tracks. Every evening around six o'clock we would hear the faint moan of the first whistle. My brother and me, both little tykes(6-10), would run to the back porch, anticipating the subsequent whistles from a huge piece of machinery. As the whistle grew louder, we could see the column of smoke billowing from the coal-burning engine as it neared. All of a sudden, there it was. We weren't the only ones that stood and watched, for there is something magical about trains, that attract both young, and old.
Our biggest delight however, did not lie with the train itself, but waving to the passengers and engineers as it passed, seeing them wave back, blowing that whistle in gentle acknowledgement, as if saying, "Good to see you, thanks for coming, have a great day!"
So it is with the "Poet's Train." When a piece is posted the whistle blows, each piece becomes a boxcar. Each writer, a passenger; their computer, the engine, and every reader waving as it passes. Its length, infinite, with no caboose. It will come the next day, the next night, with new passengers, with new cargo. I love it. I really do!

copyright: richard riddle, December 19, 2014
jeffrey conyers Feb 2019
We hear constantly about Berry Gordy.
Yes, constantly.
Next, probably be Smokey.

Except, let's be real.
Every recording group that hit higher height contributed to the success of the company.

We very aware of the great composers/lyricists and producers.

Every Supremes there have ever been.
Were vital to the label staying vibrant.
Whether it was Diana or Jean the hits kept coming.

Who?
Can't recall the voice?
A man name David Ruffin.
A shadow in the background that rose to the vocal call to lead.
Made the group more known but stay a member of strength with Eddie and Paul.
The group just can't escape them.

Got more magnified with Dennis Edwards on lead.

Somehow, many has regulated  Mary Wells to a lower level.
But it was her that placed the label in the spotlight.

We edit down, what we don't want known?
But many contributed to Motown success.

Stevie Wonder, Sylvia Moy, Clarence Paul, William Stevenson, the brothers of the Funk sound.
Marvin Gaye, Ivy Jo Hunter, Harvey Fugua, Johnny Bristol and all those that came later.

We know the success of Ashford and Simpson.

And truth be known and never spoken.
The label didn't start out trying to appear to a boarder market.
Just a company trying to make it.
Richard Riddle Oct 2014
October 20, 2014   8:40a.m.

On August 28, 2013, strictly as a novice, and not having posted anything, anywhere, I posted my first two pieces of "literary art" on the HP site. I had previously searched other similar sites until finally deciding on posting with HP. I'm glad I did.  Why?

Not knowing what to expect, I threw "1894", and "Folklore and Fairy Tales" into the "mixing bowl". Pradip and Sally were the first to comment, and I will never forget the encouragement their words gave me. Never! Quite often, I go back and re-read them, particularly when I get a little discouraged when the "writers block" syndrome decides to attack. Thank you both, so very, very much!

But that is the core of the HP family. There is an aura, a special atmosphere of cohesiveness among its contributors, willing to offer(in most cases) constructive criticism without being cynical, and always encouraging each other. Making friends whom we may never see, whose hands we may never shake, but a friendship none the less, that is spread throughout the globe, and the thoughts that will always be there. It is a feeling I did not sense with other sites.

One thing is for certain. We never know what our readers are going to like/dislike on any given day. When we post a piece, of what we may think is the work of "pure genius" could go by the wayside in seconds. On the other end of the spectrum, what we believe is not so great, could trend in minutes.

We will keep trying.

Richard Riddle
copyright: October 20, 2014
judy smith Jul 2016
The story is told in Eleganza: Italian Fashion from 1945 to Today, an installation at Montreal’s McCord Museum, which was created by London’s Victoria and Albert Museum two years ago. In addition to the display of some truly fabulous duds, the exhibition shows how Italian fashion benefitted from one man’s realization that it could become a national brand with global reach.

That man was Giovanni Battista Giorgini, a Florentine buyer’s agent who, in the early 1950s, organized fashion shows at lavish locations such as thePalazzo Pitti. Giorgini flew in influential U.S. buyers, correctly predicting that the splendour of the clothes and locale were just what the newly flush American public wanted after its release from wartime austerity.

The cause was helped by films such as Roman Holiday, in which Audrey Hepburn – wardrobed by Edith Head – personified the American fantasy of carefree-yet-elegant Italian style. It also didn’t hurt that Simonetta and several other young designers were genuine Italian aristocrats.

Eleganza features several knockout creations from this period, including a lavish feather-adorned gown by Simonetta that might well have influenced Jean Paul Gaultier; and a wildly elegant silk evening dress commissioned by a wealthy American from the sartoria of Maria Grimaldi. There’s also a red dress by Germana Marucelli that shows an almost sculptural approach to garment structure.

The exhibition includes some playful designs from the 1960s, including the shimmering Mila Schon evening dress and coat worn by Lee Radziwill to Truman Capote’s Black and White Ball in 1966. There’s also a pair of the silk “palazzo pyjamas” that became a jet-set sensation for Irene Galitzine.

Even after the development of designer ready-to-wear, the Italians emphasized high quality in manufacturing and materials, sourcing mainly from long-established Italian mills. This became even more essential as the bulk of low-end production shifted to China, which in turn has become a huge market for Italian fashion ($22-billion in sales in 2015).

The last and best room in the show is filled with a stunning array of more recent designs laid out along a T-shaped catwalk, including pieces by RobertoCapucci, Valentino, Gucci and Prada, as well as an ornate and playful sequined dress from Prada’s Miu Miu line. Almost all of these pieces were donated by the houses themselves, and at least one came in since the show’s London opening. Successful as they are, these designers know what cachet can come from being included in a museum exhibition.

The related book of illustrated essays, The Glamour of Italian Fashion Since 1945, is low on photos of the outfits on display, but rich in information collected by curator Sonnet Stanfill and nearly two dozen other contributors. They take a panoramic view of their subject, analyzing the materials, makers and presentation of Italian fashion through marketing and media. The book makes an outstanding companion to a beautiful show.Read more at: www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | http://www.marieaustralia.com
Richard Riddle Apr 2015
On December 16, 2013, in my work titled "Thank You",  was the first time I used the term "Poet's Train" for all of the contributors to the HP site. For that is exactly what it is. It also reminds me of times that have passed.
My grandparents lived in Joshua, Texas, a small town not far from the city of Fort Worth. Their house was only about 100 yards, or less, from the railroad tracks. Every evening around six o'clock we would hear the faint moan of the first whistle. My brother and me, both little tykes(6-10), would run to the back porch, anticipating the subsequent whistles from a huge piece of machinery. As the whistle grew louder, we could see the column of smoke billowing from the coal-burning engine as it neared. All of a sudden, there it was. We weren't the only ones that stood and watched, for there is something magical about trains, that attract both young, and old.
Our biggest delight however, did not lie with the train itself, but waving to the passengers and engineers as it passed, seeing them wave back, blowing that whistle in gentle acknowledgement, as if saying, "Good to see you, thanks for coming, have a great day!"
So it is with the "Poet's Train." When a piece is posted the whistle blows, each piece becomes a boxcar. Each writer, a passenger; their computer, the engine, and every reader waving as it passes. Its length, infinite, with no caboose. It will come the next day, the next night, with new passengers, with new cargo. I love it. I really do!

copyright: richard riddle, December 19, 2014
Richard Riddle Sep 2016
Originally written and posted in December, 2014, I like to re-post it occasionally for all the new writers, poets, essayists, and, of course, any new 'readers'.*

On December 16, 2013, in my work titled "Thank You",  was the first time I used the term "Poet's Train" for all of the contributors to the HP site. For that is exactly what it is. It also reminds me of times that have passed.
My grandparents lived in Joshua, Texas, a small town not far from the city of Fort Worth. Their house was only about 100 yards, or less, from the railroad tracks. Every evening around six o'clock we would hear the faint moan of the first whistle. My brother and me, both little tykes(6-10), would run to the back porch, anticipating the subsequent whistles from a huge piece of machinery. As the whistle grew louder, we could see the column of smoke billowing from the coal-burning engine as it neared. All of a sudden, there it was. We weren't the only ones that stood and watched, for there is something magical about trains, that attract both young, and old.
Our biggest delight however, did not lie with the train itself, but waving to the passengers and engineers as it passed, seeing them wave back, blowing that whistle in gentle acknowledgement, as if saying, "Good to see you, thanks for coming, have a great day!"
So it is with the "Poet's Train." When a piece is posted the whistle blows, each piece becomes a boxcar. Each writer, a passenger; their computer, the engine, and every reader waving as it passes. Its length, infinite, with no caboose. It will come the next day, the next night, with new passengers, with new cargo. I love it. I really do!

copyright: richard riddle, December 19, 2014
Richard Riddle Jun 2016
For all of the newcomers to the site, and you 'old comers', too.)*

On December 16, 2013, in my work titled "Thank You",  was the first time I used the term "Poet's Train" for all of the contributors to the HP site. For that is exactly what it is. It also reminds me of times that have passed.
My grandparents lived in Joshua, Texas, a small town not far from the city of Fort Worth. Their house was only about 100 yards, or less, from the railroad tracks. Every evening around six o'clock we would hear the faint moan of the first whistle. My brother and me, both little tykes(6-10), would run to the back porch, anticipating the subsequent whistles from a huge piece of machinery. As the whistle grew louder, we could see the column of smoke billowing from the coal-burning engine as it neared. All of a sudden, there it was. We weren't the only ones that stood and watched, for there is something magical about trains, that attract both young, and old.
Our biggest delight however, did not lie with the train itself, but waving to the passengers and engineers as it passed, seeing them wave back, blowing that whistle in gentle acknowledgement, as if saying, "Good to see you, thanks for coming, have a great day!"
So it is with the "Poet's Train." When a piece is posted the whistle blows, each piece becomes a boxcar. Each writer, a passenger; their computer, the engine, and every reader waving as it passes. Its length, infinite, with no caboose. It will come the next day, the next night, with new passengers, with new cargo. I love it. I really do!

copyright: richard riddle, December 19, 2014
Richard Riddle Nov 2015
Wouldn't it be an extraordinary event to hold an "HP" convention at some point in time, having  the opportunity to come "face to face" with those poets, writers, and contributors, whom we so admire. Only to discover that those profile photos and information from whom we receive notifications and messages, are all "FAKE." That no one is who they purport to be! That, alone, would be one "hell of a story!"

richard riddle: 11-30-2015
Please realize this is somewhat satirical.
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
Mothers. Possibly one of the significant contributors of the phrase “Empowered Women, Empower Women.” They overcome adversities, challenge social norms and break down barriers – rising and raising their child with them.

They plant flowers in the garden of their children, so they can bloom. They pour love out like a waterfall and nurture those who drink from it. They enflame hearts with compassion. They orchestrate and create harmony amongst their children creating a beautiful symphony. They pave roads and liberate. They voice out and amplify the ones of their own.

Here is to their depths of love that supports and caresses. To their cheers that uplifts. To how they raise and confront the world. To their softness. To their boldness. To their resilience. To their sacrifices. To them bringing out the best in us.

Here is to their ability to create an insurmountable power that only grows. Here is to them to being driven and passionate in their own authentic way. To them carrying out their integrity. To them setting examples, aspiring us to emulate.

To the ones who give birth, adopt, educate and raise. To the ones who devote their lives to their families care, to the ones who balance. Here is to them creating ripples carried over generation. To them shaping us and thereby shaping the world after them.
jeffrey conyers Mar 2015
Sometimes, I wonder, if it's just me.
Who question many thing ministers of the world speak?
Or give a sermon upon.

Like, how can you say you love God?
But despises family's members you see daily.
But wait!
If the message is love.
Then why we attack others members life style.

If you into the same ***, you aware that you preached against.
But in various churches, you are the biggest contributors.
And we know churches barely turn down contributions of tithes and offering.

Sometimes, I wonder about many of things.
Like women treated in secondary roles in serving the lord.
Yes, many aren't allowed to even preach.

But quickly can be consider an usher.

Back in the day, many true ministers was called by God.
Today, they learn theirs trade from universities and colleges.
And seem more invested in fame and riches.

Sometimes, I wonder.
Then this is just an opinion.
Francie Lynch Dec 2017
Let's have a gathering.
I'm inviting all readers and contributors of HP
To my house for New Year's Eve.
Ring in the new and all that stuff.
We'll have a bonfire.
Bring your worst poems
(not the ones published here)
I'll keep the fire going for the first hour.
All our tinder will get free light.
Bring your inkless pens, blank paper,
Keypads, phones, laptops,
And we'll toss them all on the heap.
We'll drink, and smoke, and curse;
May even use some bad Trump words
As we quaff, inhale, and turn the air blue.
We'll feed the metaphoric coals with odes,
Watch them rise to heaven in simile sparks,
Smell the figurative smoke,
Hear the onomatopoeic couplets sizzle.
We could burn an effigy of Elliot,
That's with a Y not a T.S.
                 (Just for fun...)
Several pinatas, one Pence for sure,
You can bring your favorite to beat on.
Can you imagine the fun we'll have?
And when the evening comes to a close
In the early morning,
And the fire has died down,
We can read our best aloud
To put everyone to sleep,
To alleviate the hangover.
It would be nice to someday have a real gathering, and meet all our favorite writers. I volunteer Vicki's place.  :)
Julian Jul 2022
How Does History Really Work?

The enantiodromia of parallax founded as a predicated fulmination of retrograde incident precluding accidental consequent is a natural referent of a bypassed bridge that through tip-lipped coercion resorts to the nature countenance and visage of the holiest creator of our majestic universe bolted to the linearity of patterns of trigonometric spelunkers seeking a sub-Pythagorean orbit of granular generativity that becomes its own amplivagant vessel and simultaneously ampitheater that is a fission of magnetized smog mobilized in ulterior provenances of heightened parlance for impavid labtebricole secrets marauding with visagists that cloak the heavens in the elective cardiac synergy of a saturnine swindle wandering listlessly with jive-talking smooth-walking creatures of cerebral habit jaunty with legacy but bounded by the strict cloffins of the lambent source of journeymen into the sojourn neither of regaled destiny nor whispered prophecy but more on the lines of a conflated flux dispersal of entropies competing in space time to wander endlessly through the diaspora of the living hallowed graves of the Potemkin Village of the silentium of the protectorate behind McCauley Culkin’s agoraphobia. History rotates upon a transdimensional supercalendrical access point beyond which there is  nothing but terminus even in the absence of pointed aberration because the milk of even the lactose inferior mettle of scurrilous witwanton bludgergrumbles of the wednongues is a hallowed wassail only to the degree the counterfeit becomes moribund by the rickety cringes of logical deceit becoming tinsellated surfeit that the stars appetize for but because they are installed with a degree of reticent amnesia it grafts a gridlock of paralysis from which the hostage situation humanity has prevailed through despite velivolant winds to the contrary is capable of plumbing abyssopelagic transportation only in the moments when the material world and the numinous intersection of the seminal ingeminations of orderly demarches in the folksy remedies which bandy their temptations on the borrowed bibliopolists who in gingerly Canada Dry secrecy burrow the furrows of the sulcate grooves of waxen miracles in the glabrous limelight of the gallywow diversion that earns leverage over the meager rather than spars with the promethean pataphysics of a time that is becoming so prolific with fulgurant streaks disguised by smog that even  the most well-paid firefighters can never stop the rampant conflagrations from infiltrating cantabank muses upon alighted destinies. We are at a centripetal point in time among many others but because we witness the transdimensional bypass with such geopolitical clarity it becomes an obvious zugzwang for those who try chryselephantine gambits and gimcracks in the ginnels of backwater boondoggles to enforce the hibernaculum of blackguard engraved in the literate apostasy of man from the true origins of the dynamos that all decided together to ensure the vitality of the syndicated enterprise of the very transgressions and felonious against the “Space Cops” to the extent their overflush of ostentation in their gingerly mannerisms becomes itself the guarantor of an ascertained future clouded by murky residual charnels in the nemorivagant chase for the shining beacons of the brains that siphon unprecedented influence in order to cleanse lavaderos of the ***** grime of egestuous obolary poverty of the pastorauling and the aspen groves that lurk with pernicious impertinence above sandapiles of sadly deceased souls journeying towards neither an eternal conflagration nor a vacancy of substance but rather that substantial determination of magnanimity. The myths that perplex humanity were clothed as a parvenu IQ test for the people who sizzled with the saute of keen acumen foisted upon a thought loop of lunatic subversion of ultraviolet genius beyond the detection of the lens of prismatic fortunes gained by reversing photons in time to regionalize the spectral reality into the elaborate alveolate ploy by the elite to assume not by arrogation but rather by thaumaturgy that all witnesses become contributors in the modern age and therefore this funnels the continuum and spectrum of a radiological race girded by the futtocks of jetsetting analysis to bifurcate planes of trajectory that at first diverge widely because of raconteurs grafted with numinous fictions of the facade of man in a Potemkin Village like Manhattan which saw its population decline by nearly four-hundred thousand people in three months (All of the Boroughs) to invest in enclaves where their furtive fruition would be recognized. The very invention of time travel is an epigenetic alien configuration of races that outlived us and sought sidereal mysteries in boosterism that granted us parceled notaries that spell doom for democracy but bonanzas for the autarky found in inalienable rights such as the pursuit of happiness most importantly configured into the realms of persuasion to become a meddlesome hypestorm that few tempestuous mercurial sailors would dare to journey beyond because the early grave is reserved froward in the momentary amnesia of videos of accidental leaps that frogmarch us into a more clever ascertained future micromanaged by a collective syndicate of outfoxed limiculous creations drowning in cesspool swamps of money to bury the bridewells alive because essentially we are now entering the pivotal crux of  history when one man’s barnstorm becomes a collectivized enterprise to radically reform the conditional antiquity inherent to time and to gouge funding for armadas fought by warriors that lapse between milliseconds in order to deliver calculated payloads with extremely precise mathematical precision. When someone patented the Theory of Relativity he postulated that the condensation of matter is fungible and flexible plasticity rather than a benumbed sopiter race of grumbling groaks that become costermongers for comatose sleeping pills and mandatory heart monitoring. There are a few moments in history capable of jump starting the generator not of myth but the progeny of priggish mathematical facts lurid in their prurience of permanence to ensure that neither mythomane nor sophist can clamber into an artificial alcove of the celestial paint of enhanced perception predominating over a century obsessed with perceptual enhancements of prosthetic invention emigrating from distal orbits among the lunisolar accord as well as around the regional taxes of Saturn and its cove of troves of bohemian impertinence. Analyzing history in the alpenglow of the donnism of hedonistic impetuous importance is a yield and cloveryield to an optimism of guarded shibboleths easily duplicated by laboratory investigations into the microbiological elements of the functioning human society upon which percolations of reality drawing ever near the icebergs of certainty that the ship will eventually sink in Africa and that sad welter should appall us all but because one person who owns the master of destiny cognomen capable of surpassing the largesse of the frissons of glamour becomes the swift parvenu of an anointed bludgergrumble extorted by powerful puns in this society of fashionable violence to enforce codes of silence by tampering with individualism and individual flavorks that demassify to preselect by artificial implements that the predestination they heard was a warbled echo of a now extinct future aborted as the time line converged upon the antipodes of fission and friction to exert filagersion in geotaxis to ensure that the sworn blatteroons of bloviation endowed with such great fiduciary importance that when exact events are hallowed in history movie dialogue memorializes those moments at the very second they are observed without being an underminnow of lip syncing. Some primary examples of pataphysical conundrums exorcised from time is how the whiskey bar aloft in the heights of the stratosphere could find direct knowledge of the future live on camera in movies like Twister to memorialize the thaumaturgy of sartorial shoes mixed up in time and how in Lost’s final episode of the first season the entire cast was elated by their renewal of knowledge or the introduction of the inseminated creed of the mysterious bottle that was kicked and then dematerialized. Physics is a funny science but the belabored tropes of game theory existentially altered the trajectory of humanity from a docile ploy of slot machine slaves into a society that engraves its superstitions upon pervious minds to the salubrious decorum of a whittled henpeck of privilege that whatever is broadcast automatically becomes preeminent because it is so widely spread even among piebald audience of sebastomania and lunacy can be cordial with poorly kept secrets secreting the jaundice of self-reference and milking dead organs of surgical pride for the stomached emasculation of the humane virility undergirding civilization. Right now and starting in early September 2020 and much before that if you study the Earthquakes created near Hawthorne, Nevada the meterologist suddenly becomes the kingpin because his Big Lebowski antics are a sardonic rift on the rafts of publicity to reprove the agentic force of a discarnate inanimate evil of a being that lacks sensory capacity so thereby seeks to disincarcerate its own obligatory tether to the vacuum of warbled tilts of information to domineer with a degree of captaincy catapulted by the future dominion of historicity compounded by the dearth of energized rebuke flabbergasted venom of deceitful charlatans of yobbery complicant   on contraplex bromidrosis of ergasia flapdoons emigrate from the citadel of veridical truth.
Richard Riddle Dec 2016
Originally written and posted in December, 2014, I like to re-post it occasionally for all the new writers, poets, essayists, and, of course, any new 'readers'.*

On December 16, 2013, in my work titled "Thank You",  was the first time I used the term "Poet's Train" for all of the contributors to the HP site. For that is exactly what it is. It also reminds me of times that have passed.
My grandparents lived in Joshua, Texas, a small town not far from the city of Fort Worth. Their house was only about 100 yards, or less, from the railroad tracks. Every evening around six o'clock we would hear the faint moan of the first whistle. My brother and me, both little tykes(6-10), would run to the back porch, anticipating the subsequent whistles from a huge piece of machinery. As the whistle grew louder, we could see the column of smoke billowing from the coal-burning engine as it neared. All of a sudden, there it was. We weren't the only ones that stood and watched, for there is something magical about trains, that attract both young, and old.
Our biggest delight however, did not lie with the train itself, but waving to the passengers and engineers as it passed, seeing them wave back, blowing that whistle in gentle acknowledgement, as if saying, "Good to see you, thanks for coming, have a great day!"
So it is with the "Poet's Train." When a piece is posted the whistle blows, each piece becomes a boxcar. Each writer, a passenger; their computer, the engine, and every reader waving as it passes. Its length, infinite, with no caboose. It will come the next day, the next night, with new passengers, with new cargo. I love it. I really do!

copyright: richard riddle, December 19, 2014



Edit poem
Yenson Mar 2019
Viva our Anarchist, viva our Revolutionaries
those magnificent dudes in their underwhelming cabral
with shining mad grins showing unwashed brown teeth
they devised another supernova anarchical dastard deed

Here comrade

we anchor his neighbour to his parked car outside
remember the neighbour is same national as the Mata Hari girl
we make the neighbour engage him about the car
just casual enquires and info about the car and knowing a possible
buyer for the car
off course there's no buyer
all this is just the anchoring bit

Then

We steal the car,yes we steal the ****** car
No one's gonna talk, we have them all in our pockets
we already told them he's loaded and a parasite
a leech bleeding us the working classes
everybody hates him, there are all on our side

Bingo.......!

He's gonna go spare, that will do his ****** head in
he's gonna think neighbour has something to do with the theft
he gonna hate that neighbour, he may even go confront him
but not only that, he's also gonna hate the Mata hari girl
because neighbour and Mata hari come from the same country
so that's his love life ruined and no friend for our man
Isolation quickens mental breakdown plus all the grief and stress


Ahh....is that devious or what ........
we're not anarchist for nothing
we create emotional hurt and pain for the man
we give him grief and stress, we frustrate the ******
we foil his plan to go meet the Mata hari gal
it's all suffering and depression all the way......

( But we know he's not meeting the Mata Hari girl,
we know there's nothing going on in that end )

( Yes, we know that, silly, but the punters we are using
as gang stalking perpetrators, don't know that)

(Keep up with things, we manipulate them and all the other
foot soldiers with lies, delusions, distortions and make them all think, they are controlling the man, do you want further training
we are rogues and con-artists, that's what we do, silly!)

Our intrepid leftist Anarchist have foiled a non-event again
The used and manipulated crowds are all smiling in satisfaction
A car has been stolen with community approval, another Tax they say.
The man has not hated or blamed his neighbour he is not an emotionally immature or unintelligent  fool
the man has not anchored any of this to Mata Hari, who is also
just a pawn as are all the other contributors to this saga

This is how the Anarchist Leftist divide people and infect communities with Hate, division, unrest and ill wills all round

This is the politics of Hate and Division
This is how things roll in Modern britain today......!
Emeka Mokeme Jul 2017
Your tomorrow comes today now,
you created today yesterday,
you create your tomorrow today,
it's interestingly always in circles,
ever coming,
you can be in it now,
And if you can see it in your mind,
it's yours,
because you own the world.
If you make yourself
available and useful,
if you become relevant,
and sow into it,
you'll reap plenty.
Tomorrow does not give
anything to anyone who
doesn't contribute to it,
it will unwittingly
abandons the ones
who are not useful.
The ones who so
sorely complains didn't
know they have been bypassed,
they can't see their tomorrow
because they are no
longer contributors,
they are dropped and thrown out.
They are no longer relevant
until they upgrade themselves.
they so became bitter
without knowing that they
can return to greatness if only they can
work on themselves to
reclaim their groove back.
They can then come
from that position of
strength to win in their tomorrow.
© 2017, Emeka Mokeme.All rights reserved.
Moses Feb 2018
Plastic strips or human spleen
A random thought, a gift to me
All distractions I have tried
The vibrance in me have died

All I do I keep to myself
From judging predators, all monsters
All of them, contributors
To the inferno in my mental realm

No human can ever understand
Before I pull the rope or strand
Pierce my vein, beating now
I want no pain so tell me how

Stitches from my childhood
I cut open without direction
Remedy me like a therapy would
Priorities have no intention

I cling to my red earphones
Spikes, I took off these arms
A cap to conceal this fatal beat
No end, no rhyme
wrote this so it'd be featured on an exhibit at my college but that didn't push through, what a pity
Why is Omni suddenly unable to post???
He got this message:

Forbidden (403)
CSRF vrification failed.  Request aborted.

What is this all about and why did it happen?
Hey, Algorithm guys...how about an answer?
Lets get one of our primo contributors up and running again.
Strange are the ways of HP these days.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2017
i find the anglophone world
                                     to be disrespectable
of two things:
                                             a. books,
               and          b. food;
at school i overheard
   the english teacher saying:
'i know you treat books
  as door stops, or bricks' -
and in every lifestyle magazine
you only get to see
books about interior design...
**** me! hardly any art books
either!
     in my collection?
chagall - m-t. souverbie,
    the pre-raphaelites - t. hilton,
edvard mvnch - j. p. hodin
hopper - r. g. renner,
     moja ziemia (my earth) -
                      edward hartwig,
rembrandt - j. jacob... &
    from russia -
too many contributors to cite:
let's just say that the exhibition
   at the RA (royal academy of arts)
was pretty spectacular,
notably boris grigoriev's
    portrait of theatre director
   vsevolod meyerhold -
ilya mashkov (the russian cézanne) -
martiros saryan - date palm. egypt -
nathan altman -
     portrait of anna akhmatova -
again: chagall - the red jew -
d'uh, kandinsky -
        arch-master of cubism -
     the shards, i.e. the german war
  by pavel filonov,
  cf. picasso's violin & guitar to get
the picture...
   isaac levitan - summer evening,
ah! and lastly, but certainly not least!
philipp malyavin - peasant woman dancing;
would anyone really want to
be living without a necessary criticism?
i hate finicky eaters...
  and the english are just that...
not to mention the h'americans...
  i remember spending a month in russia
and eating whatever was given
to me: as long as it didn't move i'd
eat it...
       as i'd **** anything that moves,
finicky eaters: picky lovers -
     both descriptions go hand-in-hand...
ukranian beetroot borsch?
  can i have some more.
      oh right, forgot to mention -
i didn't see a single mcdonald's in
st. petersburg,
   god, i was thrilled with the fast-food
chain they have over there,
pancakes...
           and the cheaper orange caviar?
can i have some more?
       for all the "supposed" politeness
the english are famous for that
the h'americans can't get enough of?
    sit these ponces by a table and give
them food...
                  the so-called "politeness"?
goes straight out the window.
i probably hate fussy-eaters as much
               as i hate spelling mistakes;
my my, isn't that the zenith of decadence?
nope... the h'americans tipped the scale:
with food-fights...
      who the **** invented beer-pong?
no wonder alcohol has such a bad
reputation, and makes us, the serious
un-apologetic / un-repentant drinkers
look bad... real bad...
         lone-wolf drinkers have to scuttle
and avoid the general idiocy
                 of group drinking:
        learning the tongue of shadow.
jeffrey conyers Jul 2019
Oh, it's funny.
Oh, not funny humorous.
Except, these go back folks act like they own America.

Without comprehending the many contributors of different heritage to America.

Go back to Africa.
Go back to Mexico.
Or whatever country they enrage them?

All the upset go back people that are rude has choices too.

Go back to England.
Go back to Sweden.
Go back to Australia or Austria.

Any white type country they trace their heritage too.
We aware they like to edit down that mix-blood member within their rank.

So, they speak Spanish and you don't.
What stopping you?
If you feel their conversation concerns you.

So they speak Nigerian or some other language.
Why?
Is this upsetting you?

And this isn't just white?'
We see these comments from other FOOLS!

Those you think is from Mexico.
Might be from Puerto Rico or Egypt too.
Yes, the skin tone of many can make a fool of you.

So all go back, people.
Go to sleep and pray for the hate within you.

— The End —