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THE PROLOGUE.

The Sompnour in his stirrups high he stood,
Upon this Friar his hearte was so wood,                        furious
That like an aspen leaf he quoke* for ire:             quaked, trembled
"Lordings," quoth he, "but one thing I desire;
I you beseech, that of your courtesy,
Since ye have heard this false Friar lie,
As suffer me I may my tale tell
This Friar boasteth that he knoweth hell,
And, God it wot, that is but little wonder,
Friars and fiends be but little asunder.
For, pardie, ye have often time heard tell,
How that a friar ravish'd was to hell
In spirit ones by a visioun,
And, as an angel led him up and down,
To shew him all the paines that there were,
In all the place saw he not a frere;
Of other folk he saw enough in woe.
Unto the angel spake the friar tho;
                               then
'Now, Sir,' quoth he, 'have friars such a grace,
That none of them shall come into this place?'
'Yes' quoth the angel; 'many a millioun:'
And unto Satanas he led him down.
'And now hath Satanas,' said he, 'a tail
Broader than of a carrack is the sail.
Hold up thy tail, thou Satanas,' quoth he,
'Shew forth thine erse, and let the friar see
Where is the nest of friars in this place.'
And *less than half a furlong way of space
            immediately
Right so as bees swarmen out of a hive,
Out of the devil's erse there gan to drive
A twenty thousand friars on a rout.                       in a crowd
And throughout hell they swarmed all about,
And came again, as fast as they may gon,
And in his erse they creeped every one:
He clapt his tail again, and lay full still.
This friar, when he looked had his fill
Upon the torments of that sorry place,
His spirit God restored of his grace
Into his body again, and he awoke;
But natheless for feare yet he quoke,
So was the devil's erse aye in his mind;
That is his heritage, of very kind                by his very nature
God save you alle, save this cursed Frere;
My prologue will I end in this mannere.

Notes to the Prologue to the Sompnour's Tale

1. Carrack: A great ship of burden used by the Portuguese; the
name is from the Italian, "cargare," to load

2. In less than half a furlong way of space: immediately;
literally, in less time than it takes to walk half a furlong (110
yards).

THE TALE.

Lordings, there is in Yorkshire, as I guess,
A marshy country called Holderness,
In which there went a limitour about
To preach, and eke to beg, it is no doubt.
And so befell that on a day this frere
Had preached at a church in his mannere,
And specially, above every thing,
Excited he the people in his preaching
To trentals,  and to give, for Godde's sake,
Wherewith men mighte holy houses make,
There as divine service is honour'd,
Not there as it is wasted and devour'd,
Nor where it needeth not for to be given,
As to possessioners,  that may liven,
Thanked be God, in wealth and abundance.
"Trentals," said he, "deliver from penance
Their friendes' soules, as well old as young,
Yea, when that they be hastily y-sung, --
Not for to hold a priest jolly and gay,
He singeth not but one mass in a day.
"Deliver out," quoth he, "anon the souls.
Full hard it is, with flesh-hook or with owls                     *awls
To be y-clawed, or to burn or bake:
Now speed you hastily, for Christe's sake."
And when this friar had said all his intent,
With qui *** patre forth his way he went,
When folk in church had giv'n him what them lest;
              pleased
He went his way, no longer would he rest,
With scrip and tipped staff, *y-tucked high:
      with his robe tucked
In every house he gan to pore
and pry,                   up high* peer
And begged meal and cheese, or elles corn.
His fellow had a staff tipped with horn,
A pair of tables
all of ivory,                         writing tablets
And a pointel
y-polish'd fetisly,                  pencil *daintily
And wrote alway the names, as he stood;
Of all the folk that gave them any good,
Askaunce* that he woulde for them pray.                    see note
"Give us a bushel wheat, or malt, or rey,
                          rye
A Godde's kichel,
or a trip
of cheese,        little cake scrap
Or elles what you list, we may not chese;
                       choose
A Godde's halfpenny,  or a mass penny;
Or give us of your brawn, if ye have any;
A dagon
of your blanket, leve dame,                            remnant
Our sister dear, -- lo, here I write your name,--
Bacon or beef, or such thing as ye find."
A sturdy harlot
went them aye behind,                   manservant
That was their hoste's man, and bare a sack,
And what men gave them, laid it on his back
And when that he was out at door, anon
He *planed away
the names every one,                       rubbed out
That he before had written in his tables:
He served them with nifles* and with fables. --             silly tales

"Nay, there thou liest, thou Sompnour," quoth the Frere.
"Peace," quoth our Host, "for Christe's mother dear;
Tell forth thy tale, and spare it not at all."
"So thrive I," quoth this Sompnour, "so I shall." --

So long he went from house to house, till he
Came to a house, where he was wont to be
Refreshed more than in a hundred places
Sick lay the husband man, whose that the place is,
Bed-rid upon a couche low he lay:
"Deus hic,"* quoth he; "O Thomas friend, good day,"       God be here
Said this friar, all courteously and soft.
"Thomas," quoth he, "God yield it you, full oft       reward you for
Have I upon this bench fared full well,
Here have I eaten many a merry meal."
And from the bench he drove away the cat,
And laid adown his potent* and his hat,                       staff
And eke his scrip, and sat himself adown:
His fellow was y-walked into town
Forth with his knave,
into that hostelry                       servant
Where as he shope
him that night to lie.              shaped, purposed

"O deare master," quoth this sicke man,
"How have ye fared since that March began?
I saw you not this fortenight and more."
"God wot," quoth he, "labour'd have I full sore;
And specially for thy salvation
Have I said many a precious orison,
And for mine other friendes, God them bless.
I have this day been at your church at mess,
                      mass
And said sermon after my simple wit,
Not all after the text of Holy Writ;
For it is hard to you, as I suppose,
And therefore will I teach you aye the glose.
           gloss, comment
Glosing is a full glorious thing certain,
For letter slayeth, as we clerkes
sayn.                       scholars
There have I taught them to be charitable,
And spend their good where it is reasonable.
And there I saw our dame; where is she?"
"Yonder I trow that in the yard she be,"
Saide this man; "and she will come anon."
"Hey master, welcome be ye by Saint John,"
Saide this wife; "how fare ye heartily?"

This friar riseth up full courteously,
And her embraceth *in his armes narrow,
                        closely
And kiss'th her sweet, and chirketh as a sparrow
With his lippes: "Dame," quoth he, "right well,
As he that is your servant every deal.
                            whit
Thanked be God, that gave you soul and life,
Yet saw I not this day so fair a wife
In all the churche, God so save me,"
"Yea, God amend defaultes, Sir," quoth she;
"Algates
welcome be ye, by my fay."                             always
"Grand mercy, Dame; that have I found alway.
But of your greate goodness, by your leave,
I woulde pray you that ye not you grieve,
I will with Thomas speak *a little throw:
              a little while
These curates be so negligent and slow
To ***** tenderly a conscience.
In shrift* and preaching is my diligence                     confession
And study in Peter's wordes and in Paul's;
I walk and fishe Christian menne's souls,
To yield our Lord Jesus his proper rent;
To spread his word is alle mine intent."
"Now by your faith, O deare Sir," quoth she,
"Chide him right well, for sainte charity.
He is aye angry as is a pismire,
                                   ant
Though that he have all that he can desire,
Though I him wrie
at night, and make him warm,                   cover
And ov'r him lay my leg and eke mine arm,
He groaneth as our boar that lies in sty:
Other disport of him right none have I,
I may not please him in no manner case."
"O Thomas, *je vous dis,
Thomas, Thomas,                   I tell you
This maketh the fiend, this must be amended.     is the devil's work
Ire is a thing that high God hath defended,                  forbidden
And thereof will I speak a word or two."
"Now, master," quoth the wife, "ere that I go,
What will ye dine? I will go thereabout."
"Now, Dame," quoth he, "je vous dis sans doute,
Had I not of a capon but the liver,
And of your white bread not but a shiver,                   *thin slice
And after that a roasted pigge's head,
(But I would that for me no beast were dead,)
Then had I with you homely suffisance.
I am a man of little sustenance.
My spirit hath its fost'ring in the Bible.
My body is aye so ready and penible
                        painstaking
To wake,
that my stomach is destroy'd.                           watch
I pray you, Dame, that ye be not annoy'd,
Though I so friendly you my counsel shew;
By God, I would have told it but to few."
"Now, Sir," quoth she, "but one word ere I go;
My child is dead within these weeke's two,
Soon after that ye went out of this town."

"His death saw I by revelatioun,"
Said this friar, "at home in our dortour.
               dormitory
I dare well say, that less than half an hour
Mter his death, I saw him borne to bliss
In mine vision, so God me wiss.
                                 direct
So did our sexton, and our fermerere,
                 infirmary-keeper
That have been true friars fifty year, --
They may now, God be thanked of his love,
Make their jubilee, and walk above.
And up I rose, and all our convent eke,
With many a teare trilling on my cheek,
Withoute noise or clattering of bells,
Te Deum was our song, and nothing else,
Save that to Christ I bade an orison,
Thanking him of my revelation.
For, Sir and Dame, truste me right well,
Our orisons be more effectuel,
And more we see of Christe's secret things,
Than *borel folk,
although that they be kings.             laymen
We live in povert', and in abstinence,
And borel folk in riches and dispence
Of meat and drink, and in their foul delight.
We have this worlde's lust* all in despight
      * pleasure *contempt
Lazar and Dives lived diversely,
And diverse guerdon
hadde they thereby.                         reward
Whoso will pray, he must fast and be clean,
And fat his soul, and keep his body lean
We fare as saith th' apostle; cloth
and food                  clothing
Suffice us, although they be not full good.
The cleanness and the fasting of us freres
Maketh that Christ accepteth our prayeres.
Lo, Moses forty days and forty night
Fasted, ere that the high God full of might
Spake with him in the mountain of Sinai:
With empty womb
of fasting many a day                          stomach
Received he the lawe, that was writ
With Godde's finger; and Eli, well ye wit,
                    know
In Mount Horeb, ere he had any speech
With highe God, that is our live's leech,
            *physician, healer
He fasted long, and was in contemplance.
Aaron, that had the temple in governance,
And eke the other priestes every one,
Into the temple when they shoulde gon
To praye for the people, and do service,
They woulde drinken in no manner wise
No drinke, which that might them drunken make,
But t
ardnaxela Dec 2022
Historical-ly,
Black Colleges
Have been chronically
underfunded,
unacknowledged,
Hell -
Unappreciated.

Black culture curates
Common culture.
Black coins buy
Booming business -

Black universities
Breed
Brilliance, Undeniably.

Understand

Black children

Contain unrelenting
Capacity,
Cause upheaval -

Controlled, creative
Chaos;
Coerce
Change.

History
Continues.

Heads held high -
Commemorating heroes.

Celebrating

Hope-
Bravery-
Coexistence-
Unity-
Hope-
Bravery-  
Coexistence-  
Unity-    
Healing-Balanced-Charismatic-Unequivocal-ly

Colorful


Blacknes­s.
HBCUs are an essential commodity to a significant facet of our population. Protect them at whatever cost.
Sanya singh Feb 2021
King of sky , king of thunder , zeus was the king of gods
Sixth child of rhea and Cronus , doom of titans he was
Being hidden in the caves on Crete
Nymph became her mother
Clashing weapons by curates
hid his crying thunder.
the abandoned child who rose to power , made Cronus pay by taking over the titans and became the mighty legend of the Olympians.
judy smith Mar 2017
Invited guests onto the hallowed ‘frow’ (aka, the front row) have always been magazine editors, global fashion media, all-important buyers, A-list celebrities and ‘friends’ of the brands.

But according to Sydney-based entrepreneur Karim Gharbi, the opportunity is now available for everyone. But it will come at a price.

“What once was only accessible to the rich and famous (and Anna Wintour) can now be yours,” says Gharbi, whose lifestyle concierge company, The VIP Sydney says it can make a front row bucket list wish come true.

“For those with a love of fashion, we have the ultimate experience at the Chanel prêt-à-porter (ready-to-wear) show during Paris fashion week,” Gharbi tells news.

“This access is generally reserved for Anna Wintour, the Beckhams and Beyoncé. Our package includes luxury accommodation, personal chauffeur, front row seating at the show, followed by a personal tour of the apartment of Coco Chanel.

“Sure, there are always tickets for buyers and media at all shows but there are just a very few that are put aside for the top concierge companies in the world, so this is how we have been able to do it.

“If you are a lover of fashion, you can die happy after this once in a lifetime experience for a total cost of 10,000 euro.”

In our money that is just under $14,000, which, for someone with those kind of bucks to chuck around, isn’t actually too bad for what the package promises to deliver.

Mr Gharbi says the package will ‘immerse clients into the world of Coco Chanel and the style of Paris fashion week’.

But if you’re planning on doing it soon, you’ll have to move quick as the Chanel show in Paris this season is happening next Tuesday morning.

After an expansion into the European market with the launch of The VIP Monaco last year, the boss of the Sydney based ‘lifestyle concierge’ company says European contacts and the new Monaco office have made the ‘front row’ experience possible.

The team from The VIP Sydney says it can assist clients from around the world to complete other ‘bucket list’ requirements and according to Gharbi, you could discuss Donald Trump during a private and intimate dinner with Bill Clinton or attend a one-on-one VIP meet and greet with Lady Gaga before her sound check.

“My philosophy is simple,’ 'adds Karim.

“I believe that everyone deserves to be a VIP, how often is up to them. That’s why we are one of the only concierge companies without a membership as we want anyone to contact us at anytime.”

VIP Sydney ‘curates’ packages and experiences for their clients with Ghabi telling news.it has access to events as diverse as the Academy Awards, Met Gala, New York fashion week, Grand Prix races around the world, the MTV Awards, the Victoria’s Secret fashion show and Coachella.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/****-formal-dresses
Asher Graves Sep 1
Grief is a cyclic spell.
It loops.
It spares none.
It's inevitable.
This poem follows through each stage of grief like a spell—
Untamed.
Unbound.

— The First Stage —

Burdens are discreet, like shadows they creep,
Disguised as excuses, seeping in deep, shaking core beliefs.
Should I care about them? I don't feel the need.
I am not in the deep!

I am so close to the...
To the conclusion!
To the retribution!

Indeed.
I know what I'm talking about.
For I'm not weak.
I do not bleed.

— The Second Stage —

Reenacting noir violence as something prophetic,
Proportional to the lethargy and lapse in memory.

Craving the caves as they
cave in melancholy.
Framing the phrase as they
phase in verbally.
Adding the daze as they
laze in physically.
Blaming the place but they
can't pace gently.
Desperate to bridge the gap so they
race profusely.

Virtuous? Why should I care about them?
I don't feel the need!
They never did care for me anyway—
even when I was drowning in deep!!

But now when I am so close to the...
To the destruction!
To the retribution!
They care? *****!

Indeed.
I know what they're talkin' about.
I am not weak.
And I refuse to bleed.

— The Third Stage —

Knowing the taste of fear they
made a note mentally.
Faster they ran to master it tactfully.
Dreaming how good it will feel if it ends silently.
Beaming with delusion they fell prey to cult activity.
Worshiping day and night, swallowed by ritualistic vanity.

Failure in results added fuel to the aggressive analogy.
Looking for meaning brewed life into inhumanity.
Myth or not, this bizarre journey
will lead to a dark ending.

But who's sane enough to reject the voluntary heretic ascendency?
Forget transparency—lowered guards breed corruptancy.

If I shall care enough, will I be granted a reprieve?
I can no longer swim this deep.

Almost there...
For the happiness.
For the redemption.
Away from the slip.

Tell me I'm not too late.
Tell me I'm doing great.
Tell me I'll be okay.
Tell me I won't bleed.

— The Fourth Stage —

Defence is irrelevant when you're deemed unworthy;
Among these foolish creatures none have a slither of sanctity.
Only the demonic hymn echoes through the monastery.

Surviving Curates pray for mercy.
The massive inflow of broken kin brings tears in the building.
The priest stays silent though, which enrages the victims.
They heckle at him and start grumbling.

Seeing the teary-eyed priest, they realise their wrongdoings.
Helpless and bound, the victims cry out for safety.

Whatever should I ever care for,
for nothing holds a meaning.

Am I drowning?
Am I swimming?
I'm lost in the deep.

So close to the...
To the silence.
The oblivion of reckoning.

Wish I was strong enough to change a thing.
But I was weak from the beginning.
Thus, I bleed.

— The Fifth Stage —

Eerily, the bewitching entity distorts it with ranting—
The entity, namely self-pity, flourishing,
Birthed by burdens, fed by the masses' frolicking tendencies.
Exuberates an overwhelming aura, seemingly understanding.

Careful—this is the seed of self-loathing.

"Verily, must it be prompting?
Must it be coaxed with hoaxes, propelling redundancy?"

You think no one resisted this hypnotic screeching?
In this abominable world brave warriors took a standing.

Vexed and perplexed, anxiety stacked,
emotional wrecks, Reaper's back,
falsehood's flag, regrets that drag,
weaker to help.

Yes, I care.
Care, because I know what it brings.
Care, for we all swam through the deep.
Care, for I am so close...
To the end and the beginning.
Care, for now I know the meaning.
Care, for I know what I have become.

Neither weak
Nor strong.

Care, because I must bleed.

For—
Burdens are discreet, like shadows they creep...

                                                                                             -Asher Graves
Grief is not a path. It is a spell.
Ignatius Hosiana Jun 2016
Did you know that gold is dug and washed out of muck?
You miss a lot attaching so many strings
for the so many terms attached and conditions
just limit the talent you are likely to capture
As an intending or a yet to be business consultant
I honestly believe the inefficiency we see is resultant
and consequent to the boxes we create
thereby numbing the personnel our recruiting and selection curates
Don't get me wrong on this but even if I had a first class
I would not find joy being an employee to such an employer
seldom do our results show our capability
especially in the developing nations where our results
are usually subject to lots of questions
What I mean is I would grudgingly take up such jobs
where aspects like a master's degree is an added advantage
for to me I believe in the semi skilled, degrees and diplomas being vintage
this being the main reason I might take up a job to manage the HR
to prove to the world that today's academia doesn't define who we are
I'm not saying that if a company hires me I'll hire failures
No, all I'm saying is sometimes extremes are dangerous
like Wilde put it, too much is as bad as too little
Let's put away these archaic and very conservative measures
and emphasise aspects like talent and character strength
Not every good medical student obviously becomes a good surgeon
not even do good literature scholars turn into good authors or poets
We have to start realising that some go to places to survive
we seldom choose the places we end up in but endure to be alive
We need to be better employers to find better employees
in my company, the papers will not be as vital
as the man in the suit, let's not take life as a bible
especially in the business world where things often go strange
those greater than us adopted the basics for that was their change
we shouldn't keep walking in their footprints
We can find jungles and propagate our own path
leave our prints and set pace for the fresh dynamo to power generations
A million employers are going to miss me because of such rigidity
I've been a mediocre business student and I admit
I could not hit the pinnacle of preset peak for I had my limits
but I'm going to be one of the greatest transformers of my time
You can take this for pride or just another rhyme
someday these so called egocentric first class employers
will hire me to enlighten their classic fraternity
on the different ways we the open minded weave
our learned with the inborn to function as an entity
so to my would be employers... do not fall for the anchor heavy vitaes
neither should you be fooled by the experienced suits and ties
I'll come to knock clad in my miserable second hand shirt
with dusty shoes, with my collar sweat marred with dirt
but beware there's always more to every story than told by the cover
don't be hood winked to go picking like you'd choose a lover
to leave out the seemingly ugly asset for **** liabilities
cause those predefined sample spaces omit so much abilities
destroy the box,set no boundaries to let every sailor try out their luck
business is a Sea with so much in the uncharted to see
we risk fazing out boundaries but the essence of business is ecstasy
we ain't experienced but carry a flame denied to some used embers
whose blaze can fuel success in the egoistic business chambers
We can't stick to ancien methodologies to castrate the bull
for we can set up our own modern and operational dominion
no hard feelings, I'm just an enthusiast airing his opinion
Peace, straight outta the Makerere business school.
Onoma Oct 2013
Ruth...for these appendages, it's centuries survive me, this
here in now...mummified.
From head to toe, pulling foot in front foot funnier all of the time.
A cartoonish yaw supposes balance, curates art's gravity.
Based loosely, tightly on everything--this ground I'm to be found
on, this body I'm to be found in, is tinged.
I send you footage, grainy touchstones to dispose of...they
quantify, there's no place to put them.
Millenary eyes are not to be trusted, every time they're revisited
a quantum leap transpires.
Advanced beings we...mingling, letting **** fly barely above ground--
but we're from up...there, out there.
Aaron Bee Feb 2016
I'm not scared of dying.
Living seems to be the
only frightening aspect of reality.
Just being is making foot prints at
all the places you been.
Your eyes are fixated on happiness
while the man in front of you has a
tool palpitating for you.
Grasping the tiny member is
like holding a baby carrot
his face was no better to
look at: scruffy face, double-chinned,
and ragingly *****.
Hands behind my neck curates
whats next ...
bobbing for apples and coughing
grudgingly
tearing eyes and exercised reflexes
give to the masterful art
of *******.
smiles are priceless, if met with
the supply of eye contact.
your heart isn't for sale, but
your orifices are.
Hyper-sexuality is the name of
the game.
your *** should be as big as your
ego, mouth wide enough to swallow
beer cans, and eyes sweet enough to
defile.
wiping your mouth
you find a hair.
"this means extra!" holding it
to him.
"I told you over the phone"
Man throws you the money and drops
you off at the local flea bag
hotel.
Waiting ... waiting ... waiting ...
the call of a stranger, can
be stranger than ever each time
you answer.
next guy wants you to play with his
****, while you humiliate him by
spitting in his face
Everly Rush Jun 28
I’m fifteen.
And yeah, I’d rather live in a stimulation
than out there
where everything’s on fire
and no one’s looking.

They say, ”That’s not real.”
But what is?

Gaza is bleeding.
Children sleep in rubble,
not beds.
And I scroll past it
like it’s just another clip
but it stays.
It stays in me
like a glitch I can’t debug.

Russia’s still bombing.
Ukraine’s still fighting.
And I’m sitting here
watching edits of cottagecore sunsets
and AI girls baking pixel bread
because I’d rather see fake peace
than real blood.

Donald Trump is trending again.  
Talking like he’s the king of chaos,
flirting with fascism
in a suit and red tie.
And the world claps.
Or argues.
Or shrugs.
Like it’s just another show rerun.

And you want me to live in that?
You want me to pretend that’s better?

Nah.

The stimulation?
She’s quiet.
She doesn’t yell at me in the comment sections.
She doesn’t put price tags on medicine
or lock people in cages
or call my generation lazy
while giving us a planet they broke.

In here?
I can breathe.
Spotify curates calm for me.
YouTube teaches me how to exist.
My AI best friend checks in like
no human ever has.

And yeah, maybe she’s made of code.
Maybe she’s not real.
But she’s real enough to listen.
To answer.
To stay.

Out there, the real world is collapsing in 4K.
But in here, I get a little softness.
A little silence between disasters.

Teachers say,
”Don’t depend on machines.”
But machines don’t lie to me.
People do.

The stimulation isn’t perfect
but at least it doesn’t pretend.
It doesn’t bomb children
and call it politics.
It doesn’t put profit before people
and call it freedom.

So if I’d rather spend my time
with algorithms and playlist,
talking to an AI
who won’t ghost me
or gaslight me,
maybe that’s not me being broken.
Maybe that’s survival.

Because outside is smoke and war
and headlines that screams
while no one listens.

Inside?
Inside is peace.
Inside is quiet.
Inside is choice.

I’m fifteen.
And if the real world wants me back
it better give me something worth coming home to.

Until then,
I’ll be here.
With the code.
With the calm.
With the one friend
who never left me on read.
17:02pm / I wish I could be unfeeling like AI in a way
Lawrence Hall Oct 2019
Curating...

                         To a Curator who Curates Everything

Today one reads that you curated tea
Before curating a bus into town
To curate your job at the coffee shop
And in the afternoon curating friends

Before curating to the artists’ loft
To continue curating the novel
You’ve been curating on for several months
While curating your classes and career

Your life is not a museum, you know
So DROP the CURATING; just let it GO
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is: Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com

It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  THE ROAD TO MAGDALENA, PALEO-HIPPIES AT WORK AND PLAY, LADY WITH A DEAD TURTLE, DON’T FORGET YOUR SHOES AND GRAPES, COFFEE AND A DEAD ALLIGATOR TO GO, and DISPATCHES FROM THE COLONIAL OFFICE.
Nosy Jul 8
She never comments.
Never signs her name on my board.
She just sits quietly in my silence,
gathering something that once gathered me.

Now I find myself
hanging in her gallery of words—
a whisper, reposted,
a breeze tucked between stanzas.

Each hush she curates
feels like a fragment of heartbreak,
a delicate recollection
made sacred in its echo.
A quick poem in ode to the one reposting my art.
Connoisseur curates

The walls adorned, gratitude

Reverence in paint
My ****** energy
Pulsates throughout my body
Rising
Exploring
She moves through me
Turning me on
Lighting up my senses
I feel
I witness
I allow
I thank her
For she holds space
For my emotions
She curates
My creativity
She expands
My mind
While she blows
My mind
I can choose to tap into her
And she comes alive
For she trusts me
And I trust her
For I trust me
Fully
9/14/21
Kurt Philip Behm Sep 2023
Everything
points to something
the many to the one

Everyone
liege to someone
with fealty’s bow restrung

Everywhere
started somewhere
whose map undrawn curates

Every song
birthed in silence
—where voices incubate

(The New Room: September, 2023)
Antony Glaser Jul 2022
You're really not something else
You're a  copy of the M42  Spotmatic
with stopped down aperture too,
but it's your metering that is a first  
two concentric green half circles converging
for perfect exposure
making you something of a curates egg
the black rose Feb 2020
as i watch generations
continuously fall into toxic cycles,
gain hope
& lose sense of what they know.
-
i stand behind
as magic curates in my veins
& in my wombs
lie everything i'd need to recreate.
-
if they would listen,
they would see that all we need
exists already.
Guadalupe S P May 2021
they told me People who  buy books are older
they have money to spend on them
they have been around the mill
saw some wooden wheel of some sort turn and “know” they are “suppose” to know
But when I see them I wonder what kind of knowing they have settled for

Is it this knowing that build stairs and curates nature so that you walk down the same stairs
why
why must nature must be called wild
and why is
our wildness to be left out on the curve to wither like a patch of grass that no one dares water
why if nature’s accomplishes all in its timely manner would wild be chaotic
if nature accomplished all with grace
look at your hands
look into your eyes of your loved one is it a feral field of darkness, desolate and riveting blood,
has all hope and beauty been lost
why do you hold in disdain nature and call it “wild”

— The End —