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Joseph Childress Apr 2014
By Joseph Childress

“Habeus corpus!!!”
Yelled in court
From some youngin’
In the back row
As he rose
With a roll of parchment
The constitution laid dead in his hold
.
A gleam seen in the judge’s eyes
As he glances, quickly
Behind glasses
While guards escort
The disrupter of courts
To the unknown
.

All hail the corpse of freedom!
Warranted from the lack of warnings
All hell: The corporate companies cooperating
In coup d’etats
Disguised as peace keepings
Offering the
Sacrificial kings of Africa
Offing the
Head of state
In a distasteful display of feardom

Fear dominates
The war on terrorism
Military minions pillage the dominions
Of the defenseless

The final blow
Screams
Like the Final Call
In the falling of an empire

Protesters test the unrest
And spread
Words
That are read
In the weaving of our future

Detention
Sit-ins for those who
Speak during class warfare

Constitutions re-written
To constitute illegal imprisonment
Of free
Speakers,
Thinkers,
And believers

Citizens find it harder
To not pay attention
When the war in the Middle East
Is fought in America

Patriotic Acts to enact
Unpatriotic actions
That exact
Hate on the coward-less fraction
Surveillanced
As if ***-kissing will ever be in option

They’re warning us
To stay sleep with the rest
Those who awake
Will meet a force
Worse
Than the crusades
As they raid the houses
Of our brothers, sisters, and
Controversial, conspiracy contriving cousins

They will come
Like thieves in the night
To undue
The debt due to society

The battle begins,
And the Martyrs are ready.
judy smith Feb 2017
In 1983, the Fashion Design Council burst on to the Melbourne scene like a Liverpool kiss to the mainstream fashion industry. Inspired by punk's DIY aesthetic and armed with an audaciously grandiose title, an earnest manifesto and a grant from the Victorian government, FDC founders Robert Buckingham, Kate Durham and Robert Pearce were determined to showcase the burgeoning Melbourne design scene in all its outrageous glory.

"People resented hearing about Karl Lagerfeld," says Durham. "Our movement was against the mainstream and the way Australians and magazines like Vogue treated Australian designers."

Over its 10-year lifespan, the FDC launched such emerging designers as Jenny Bannister, Christopher Graf and Martin Grant. But what was perhaps most exciting was the FDC's ecumenical approach. Architects, filmmakers, artists and musicians all partied together at runway shows held in nightclubs.

"It was an inventive time when people came together and made people notice fashion," says Durham.

Among the creative congregation, Durham remembers artist Rosslynd Piggott, who constructed dresses of strange boats with children in them and filmmaker Philip Brophy, who used "naff" Butterick dress patterns. Elsewhere, an engineer made a pop-riveted ball dress out of sheet metal. The crossover between music, art, graphic design and film extended to architects such as Biltmoderne (an early incarnation of celebrated architects Wood Marsh) who designed the FDC's favourite runway and watering hole, Inflation nightclub.

"Clothing was confronting," says Durham. "It was brash and tribe-oriented. It was quite good if you weren't good-looking. People liked the idea that this or that clothing style was going to win you friends."

Today, however, even Karl Lagerfeld has a punk collection. To complicate matters, "fast fashion" appropriates the avant-garde at impossibly low prices. The digital era too has caused the fashion world to splinter and bifurcate. What's a young contemporary designer to do?

"The physical collective is no longer that important," says Robyn Healy, co-curator of the exhibition High Risk Dressing/Critical Fashion, which uses the FDC as a lens to view the current fashion landscape. "These are designers who are highly networked through social media who put their work up on websites."

Fashion designers still use music, film and architecture, but in different ways. Where FDC members might document its runway shows with video, studios such as Pageant use video as the runway show and post them online. Social media is perhaps the big disrupter. Where FDC designers might collaborate with architects, today it's webdesigners.

"Space has changed," says Healy. "Web designers might be the equivalent of the architect today. It's a different use of space."

As grandiose as the FDC, yet perhaps even more ambitious in scope, is contemporary designer Matthew Linde's online store *** gallery, Centre for Style. Like the FDC, it offers space for "artists who aren't at all designers per-se, but they're dealing with a borrowed language from fashion", Linde told i-D magazine.

"It's an extraordinary juggernaut across the world with a huge amount of Instagram followers," says co-curator Fleur Watson. "[Linde] has created a brand that uses social media in an interesting avant-garde way."

Yet unlike their often untrained FDC counterparts, these designers are perhaps the first generation of PhD designers, notes Watson. "Robert Pearce had a belief in culture changing the world. That's what these new designers are reflecting on in their research, their position in the fashion world and how do they change the way fashion works?"

While it's also true that new technologies offer exciting possibilities in embedded fabrics and experimentation with 3D printing, fast fashion has created certain expectations.

As Cassandra Wheat of the Chorus fashion label laments: "It's just hard for people to understand the complexity and the value that goes into production without being really exposed to it. They think they should have a T-shirt for cheaper than their sandwich."

During the course of the exhibition Chorus will produce its monthly collection from one of the newly designed spaces within the gallery. The exhibition's curators have commissioned three contemporary architects who, like its '80s counterparts, work across the arts, to interpret FDC-inspired spaces. Matthew Bird's Inflation-influenced bar acts as a meeting place for the exhibition's forums and discussions on the contemporary state of fashion. Sibling architects abstracts the retail space, while Wowowa's office design resembles a fishbowl. For Watson, the exposed shopfront/office has as much front as Myer's. Its architecture suggests the type of brazen confidence every generation of fashion design needs. Says Watson: "Fake it till you make it."Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-2017
Alex T Sep 2010
I killed the calendar on the wall,

Skipped the glorified ceremony and all.

Pieces of plans soared through the air,

Nearly brushing my cowlicked hair.

To the Disrupter of my Dreams,
The Screaming Sleep Waker,
The Insolent Sun Beams:
You are punctual and I am ******.


Why must we only meet like this?

I’m staying here all day long.

You can’t stop me.

Unless you bring me a hot cup of coffee…*

                                   *Sincerely,

                                                
                                             **The Sleeper of Five Hours
Proctor Ehrling Jul 2019
Everything costs money and you never have the time
Want to be an artist, but your poems can't seem to rhyme
Much disputed master of the obscure
Much opposed disrupter of the order
Guess the experiment went wrong
Just because your style is different, won't mean it's gold
Such a working actor
Such an active wreck
"So I think I missed my chance" you foam
Cause you're ageing and your Oscar ain't yet home
Truth be told and lies be laid
Youth eternal, at long once and once again
Too late you find your life a bore
Turning it all back is irresponsible and wrong
Don't beat yourself, cause their ways don't match with yours
You just haven't found that thing to make you less alone
Isolated, mocked and wrongly painted
Bereft, crestfallen, hardly tainted
well listen, i aint a real poet and this one I don't even really remember working on that well, so please be gentle on me.
First day of school freshmen year
I walk in to my native 2 spanish class
My teacher says to me
“Are you sure you belong here?”
Her voice is betlitting,
like she's speaking to a 5 year old
I start speaking
si hablo español fluentemente

Her face goes white
Along with everyone else
That was the first time i began to write

That wasn’t the first time i was told i was somewhere where i didn't belong

At 10 it was because i wasn't as smart as my sister
At 13 it was because i had to many opinions
At 14 it was because i was a disrupter
At 16 it was because of my personal decisions and visions

There was never a place where I belonged
I was either too white or too mexican
Too loud or to quiet
Feminine
Sometimes i was a girl operating on autopilot

I guess i didn’t belong there or anywhere
A boss forwards an e-mail
a one word question:
“Thoughts?”
Oh sweet genius minimalist leadership!
Can it ever substance yield?

No.
Vacuous answers fill the net.
Nothing of real thought in this haul.
Just regurgitated ideas in different clothes
But no one chooses to notice.
They believe they have touched
the face of innovative greatness,
the holy grail that is ‘disruption’.

Self-congratulation, back-slaps
high-fives all round.
Yet if all yearn to be disruptive,
no one really is
except the person standing still
saying nothing, not disturbing,
just observing.
Listening and thinking.
In silence.

Businesses inwardly focussed
drown in self-inflicted noise.
In meetings talk is everything.
The person who just listens?
A penalised non-contributor.

Noise is self-aggrandising.
Attention-grabbing.
The Big Me.
The talker spouts hyperbole
"There's no I in TEAM!"
Re-arranging the letters,
the listener smiles.
"Look AT ME",
the talker's real words.

The listener,
the true disrupter at work.
Ears open, mind observing, mouth shut.
Ignoring the smorgasbord
of finger-pointing and lime-light hunting
going on around her.
Intently focussed
on what needs to be done.
Doing it.

Noise shouts self-importance.
Silence finds wonder in insignificance.
Noise stays shallow on the shoreline.
Silence dives deep into the unbounded ocean of thought
and finds a beautiful stream of creativity,
the path to profound understanding.

No limits exist in silence's depths
just an awesome mind-expanding flow
where thoughts are wondrous fluidity.
Synapses spark and draw connections.
New ideas explode with energy.
A crystal level of consciousness
blocks out all in diamond clarity.

When that level is reached,
you are at ease in your world.
your breathing smooths.
Life is pure synchronicity
and the limits of humanity expand.
All it takes
is a moment’s silence.
L F WEEZY Jan 2018
The thoughts in my head are indescribable

They take me to places I don't know or recognize

But they also lead me to destinations that I've been before

Memories in my subconscious that I would rather forget

Memories in my subconscious that I get frustrated that I forget

My mind tells me many things that I don't speak out loud

Sometimes it tells me that death is the only way for me

Other times it tells me that hope is the only thing I need

Other times it tells me to not use it so much

Some more times it tells me that I don't use it enough

My mind is my enemy and my friend

My comforter and disrupter

My antagonist and protagonist

The beginning and the end of my being

I feel like I can't control it but maybe that's the problem

Maybe I have to just let it be

The only fear I have in this philosophy is that I may go crazy

But maybe I'm already at that point
the beginning.
Travis Green Dec 2022
I wanna ride the wild and striking waves
Of your contagiously captivating
And scintillating engagingness
Feel your praiseworthy amorous straightness
Surging through my veins

Blessedly high-test treasured finesser
You are my ultimate reverent joy
My fiery lightning bolt of glorious storming machoness
Richly stunning crunkness
That makes me lose my head
Over your strongly evocative dopeness

Sweet, hypnotic, and astonishing prodigy
Unforgettable aromatic masculineness
So robust, seductive, and incomparable
Desirable, earthy, and virile delight
Wonderful ***** charmingness
Erotically mantastic and splashalicious

I wanna feel your thick, mountainous
Thighs pressed against mine
Your heavy and sensuous hands
All over my soft, lavender back
Claw my temptingly feminine neck

Hold my throat, kiss my wondrous, **** shoulders
Let me feel your thrilling narcotic sauciness
****** your long, rock-hard night crawler
In my cozy velvet envelope
Put me on lockdown, pound my juicy smooth caboose

Drain my domain, tame my game
Divide and conquer my mind
Hypnotize me all night long
Spread your strong, alluring sexiness
All over my keen, refreshing architecture

Impressively delicious and moist hot boy
Make a wound in my luminous smoothness
Intrude upon my homoness
Break through my guts
Tear my sweetness to pieces

Make me sexually stimulated
Bust through my back door
Explore my blossoming and enthralling hotness
Feel my divinely delectable melons
Gaze at the way they sway
In your fresh and fragrant space

Intensely pleasing and transfixing slickness
Your clean electric masculinity
Makes my mouth water
Makes me impossibly charmed by
Your warm, beguiling unconquerableness

Ardent, crash-hot, and sharp chopper
You are a man of mad dope smoke
A kaleidoscope of glowing showiness
You make me weak in all my secret sleek spots
Make me so blissfully happy
With the way you enrapture me deeply

You slam your monster lung disrupter
In my tunnel of lush, sultry succulency
Make me feel so ****
When you caress me so sensually
Give me firm ferocious *****

Make me lust for your ****-crushing robustness
Feel your undauntable macho ****
Poke my perfumed inner walls
Smack my splendiferous steamy *** cheeks
Tell me how bad you want my ****
******* lekker sweet nectar

Get to know the softest parts
Of my sensational and venerational greatness
Coat my blooming ***** hole
With your macho-worthy showstopping provocativeness
I love how you rule my thoughts

Eat away at my gayness
Prey on my heart and soul
Take up my whole attention
Make me hold my face down
With my bubble-blushing backside up
And gush out your ***** **** nut
All over my gorgeous, mouth-watering structure

— The End —