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Sixolile Dec 2015
Where do I begin? -
- Is a sentence even enough?

Excitement, odd excitement;
- my initial response.

The sort of excitement a parent has,
over hearing their young utter their first, full word.

That thrilling excitement, which overwhelms you;
as you sit and engaged in your first adult conversation,
with your parents.

Where do I even begin?
- the concealed excitement,
at your first date.

The introverted excitement you have -
as you tap your feet, while squandering a conversation,
with your first love.

But, where do I begin, I contemplated.

The excitement, a foolish one at that,
that makes you sing out your favourite love song;
while aware of the fact you are an awful singer.

The excitement, that nervous, yet squirm in excitement -
as you lean in for your first kiss.

What was your question?
I asked of her to reiterate.

Wandering, contemplating.
How she could sound so pleasant and ****,
while she maunders?

Excitement? I ask, rhetorically.
As I wonder how she sounds so beautiful,
without making any sense.

That kind of excitement.

But, she enquired for a single sentence.

I had more than one.

So, to single one out, I breathed slowly, paused;
- Can I get an endless day, where I am excited to be in your presence?
almat011 Feb 2019
With each step, the heat of passion of love and excitement only intensifies. I burn with fire from the love of passion, he can fill the whole world. And the sky turned pink. The sky glitters with glitter. The air is filled with the fragrance of love and the world is more beautiful and you are becoming more and more divine in my eyes, I bow to your extraterrestrial beauty and belong to you alone, the goal of all my lives for all eternity. You are the one that I will always dream of and my heart will forever love and want you alone. The goddess appearing to me in ****** thoughts and depraved dreams of passion. Up close you are beautiful to tears - these are tears of sincere happiness and admiration.
You are more beautiful than the most beautiful. Merge together forever and ever with the spirit of yours, and your inner world, my lonely soul dreams. See the depths of your amazing me. To give you your eternal devotion: you are my life, eternity and my destiny, you are my only right choice, you are everything that I love and want. Both my heart and my mind are open only to you. You look so romantic and beautiful, your charm, your spell beckons my mind to you, it is useless for them to resist you, they can only fully obey, surrender to you alone. My legs go only to you, my eyes look only at you, and I focus only on you. Everything in me is overwhelmed with you. And inside, from the love of you, is incredible, absolute lightness. And from the fact that you are not with me, my heart hurts almost to a heart attack. Epochally, I fell in love with you totally, beyond ******-poetic, overly ****. Yes, truly, you are my empress, and only I worship you, look at this temple of my love, dedicated to you, on this great altar, look around, you are everywhere, sit on this throne of love, my great and beautiful goddess. Each your kiss is indescribable and priceless, it is vital. Every your look, fantastically-romantically-touchingly beautiful. He kindles the fire of love and passion in men. Your charm is a powerful force that attracts everything and everyone to itself.
Awakening true, sparkling love for you, of universal scale. This throne of eternal praise and worship is only for you alone, and the chorus, singing about your beauty only for you. In you, every millimeter of your perfect, hot, hot-**** body is beautiful. My world is in your uniquely beautiful eyes, in your feelings and emotions, and I’m not tired of talking about your perfect proportions. Only your caresses give such feelings as love and happiness. Striking, powerful, attractive appearance. The magnificent grace of your body has no equal. Only your divinely beautiful body is worthy of the highest praise and points. I am only waiting for you. You're all I think about. The empress of my subconscious, in my inner world, dreams, and memories, you are everywhere. I always wait only for you. You are my only eternal thought that helps to live in this world, my beautiful emotion, and an amazing feeling. Only, like you, can excite with a look and fall in love with yourself forever. Life without you is unthinkable, impossible. Believe me, I know this for sure, your beauty shines gently with honey, golden light and brilliance. Your beauty is powerful hypnosis.
You are tremendously in love with you totally. You are the highest goddess: beauty, love and erotica. For me, you are the supreme being of all universes. You rule and command over male minds and hearts. Please do not be offended by this truth, but you are so beautiful that you don’t even need cosmetics, only you can look so natural and beautiful, but you are also very powerful ****** attraction, arousal, my only hobby, I’m madly obsessed with you. Your voice sounds sleeker than a violin, more touching than a piano, lighter than a harp, thinner than a triangle. So amazing, your beautiful skin glitters sexually, it is perfect, sweet, juicy. And your perfect figure, perfection itself. You are not replaceable and priceless. You are the most important, most valuable thing in my life. Your infinitely amazing, impressive, external and internal beauty sets you apart from all living and nonliving. So stunningly passionate, your beautiful body is a powerful magnet attracting a huge amount of affection and passion. You are perfect, your beautiful figure is so perfect that you don't even need clothes. I am struck down on a feast, and I bow deeply, taking off my hat to your royal authority, for me it is a great honor and a great honor to be with you by your side, you are my idol and autograph, I take it from me and keep it from my heart, exposing it to the honorary a place in your altar of love, where only you are everywhere, I am your eternal, devoted fan. You have no equal, I adore everything in you. You are the highest, absolute aerobatics. You are a beautiful and perfect image that you can imagine. This is what a beautiful goddess looks like. You are the highest good, pleasure and pleasure in this universe. I put a madman of points and a sign of infinity to boot, your unique beauty. You are so beautiful that you immediately want to marry, and live with you all eternity.
Your teasing sexually exciting figure keeps my mind completely under your control. You are a thermonuclear *** bomb-boom babe. You are all my eyes want to see. Your gently saldko-**** voice is all that my ears want to hear. The smell of your skin is all I want to breathe. I breathe only because you are near me. When you're near the heart of love knocks more. And the level of excitement from your beauty reaches the highest degree. About how beautiful you are and how I love you, that's all I want to tell you. Your gorgeous flesh and soul is all that your flesh and soul wants to feel forever. Your love is all I want to feel forever from you. You're so beautiful, just a sight for sore eyes. You are much higher than blue blood. I am only obsessed with you. You are ****. Cool babe. Unreal beautiful. Drooling flow in men only from you. Resist such as you are simply useless. Your sweet laugh, your **** smile, soft look, impeccable outfit, battles everybody in a row. You are the most juicy relish, sensual, tender, feminine passion. You are my love and soul outlet.
You are absolute, the highest *****. Eternal novelty. It is unbearable, excessively, supremely, beautiful, and only you look overly ****. You are in the highest stage of evolution, you are the most ideal, you are my idol, my ideal, the most true and authentic embodiment of beauty. You are the sexually ****** heat of love and passion. Your body brings you to the highest level of arousal. You yourself tenderness and femininity. You are 1 000 000 000 percent luxury, priceless, the only, eternal value. All the pleasant moments in life are associated only with you. Your sweet caresses and kisses are a very powerful drug. You are the most valuable gift of the universe. You are gorgeous in any kind of image frame, everywhere, always and in everything. You feel a surprisingly soft, sensual, tenderness. The beauty in your eyes is something amazing, uniquely beautiful, it is very beautiful fascinating magic. Very beautiful and indescribably pleasant feeling. Your amazingly beautiful image touches the most delicate and barely visible strings of souls easily and gently. By causing a special vibration of the true love melody, he finally falls in love with you.
So beautiful and bold, spectacular. 1 000 000 000 000 000 000 likes you alone and a sign of infinity to boot. The ******, ****** heat of love and lust emanates from you. You set a new world record for beauty. Which is impossible to achieve. You are a beautiful, socialite. You are synonymous with beauty. The eternal standard and *** symbol in the history of mankind. Absolutely beautiful. Every millimeter of your beautiful body is beautiful in you. The jaw drops and the gift of speech from such incredible beauty is lost. Just do not be offended, please forgive me if something is wrong. But from such a beautiful appearance as you have in men, a powerful ******* of the *****, guys and men end up in their underpants. Unlimitedly beautiful. Sexiest in the whole universe. So **** that you don't even need clothes. You are for the happiest and luckiest man in the world. You are a jackpot. Flash, full house. *** symbol.
You are synonymous with beauty and ideal. You are so beautiful just amazing. you have a direct view of a ****, sultry predator. You are the sweetest. From you comes a powerful, ****, ****** energy. you are indescribably beautiful. You're spectacular, juicy, ****. M, You sound cool, like a mega cool, percussive, lyric rap beat. As a platinum and gold vinyl record, you are a super hit. You are a bestseller of poetry and prose. You're my princess. Queen. The Empress Goddess. The ultimate creation of all universes, spheres and dimensions. I think so. To doge to what extent a girl can be beautiful. Just amazing. The queen of my mind and heart. Your tender image overwhelms my soul with light, beautiful love and lust. You have such a soft pearl skin. Your beautiful appearance forever and ever conquered my heart and my mind. You are the most beautiful of its kind. You are endowed with the rarest beauty at all times. Fashion model. Just the thought of you excites and falls in love. You are a masterpiece of nature and of God himself. Your infinitely amazing beauty, the rarest and most amazing, the most beautiful in the history of mankind.
The most desirable, silk, velvet skin, gorgeous, beautiful, always and everywhere. Strikingly beautiful, your **** body as if calls for kissing and licking, caressing, satisfying you again and again. You're too ****, hot flame of passion. You are the best prize, a gift that can only get a man, the best among all his lives. You are perfect and perfect. The more I look at you, the more I fall in love with you because you beat all the beauty and mind records, my super **** top model, everywhere in the first place in beauty and mind. In you, every millimeter of your body is perfect, with you all seconds are beautiful. The body shines brilliantly: luxurious chic, beautiful. The title itself is a beautiful girl in the world. The supreme creation of all universes. The finest children are born only with you. Aerobatics. Girl high hummingbird.
Your charming charm is a super **** mega power that is simply impossible to overcome. The sweetest gourmet, I adore your gorgeous body, when I see you, only one word sounds in my head: yum, I will completely give myself to you. I will always love only you unconsciously, unconsciously, your gently ****** image sat in the depths of my mind completely. From your amazingly contagious beauty, your mouth opens and you lose your voice. Dizzyingly, stunningly beautiful, you are like a giant tornado, from which everything attracts you. And the heart and soul yearn all the time only for you. It doesn't matter if you love me or not, the main thing is that I still love you, and in my subconscious mind, I will only love you forever. Your luxurious appearance of the highest quality, this is a workshop, the filigree work of Mother Nature, this is just a masterpiece that constitutes a unique example of true beauty, you have no equal, you are a girl of high caliber. You are absolutely beautiful to such a degree, so beautiful, so exotic, ******, and your image sounds poetic like very beautiful music of love that I’m just afraid and shy to come to you, I’m afraid to talk to you, as if standing next to a goddess, or with a super mega star, a world scale model that even aliens probably know. My heart beats more often, I can’t speak normally, from excitement, goosebumps all over my body, and it just shakes.
All these are symptoms of true love for you, well, just: oh), wow). To be your boyfriend and husband is the greatest honor in the world, he knelt in front of you with flowers in his hands. Your appearance is perfect just like Barbie. You are so beautiful that only you want to have *** forever, countless, infinite number of times. You are unattainable, you are like a star whose light of the soul, like a searchlight, illuminates me in the deep darkness of solitude. In love with you thorough. You are simply amazingly beautiful. You are the best of the best. Goddess of all goddesses, empress of all empresses, queen of all queens. More beautiful you just can not imagine a girl. Sexier than you just can not be anything. Beautiful soul just is not found. There was nothing more perfect than you and never will be, simply because I think so. Laponka, I am your faithful fan, you are my only idol, idol, icon of beauty. It doesn't matter who you are, I will accept you any. Because in any case I am eager to be only with you. You have a **** smile, and your sensual look is just awesome. And from your voice and look a pleasant shiver all over your body. You are special, the best that is in all worlds, universes and dimensions. You're just a sight for sore eyes. To you I feel the most powerful, love and ****** inclination. You're cooler than any ****** and afrodosiak. From your beauty just cling to the constraints and embarrassment.
**** Barbie, fell in love with you powerfully for sure. Wow. God, how beautiful you are, God, hell, let me see you, wow, this is just super, just super, my God, it’s necessary to what extent a girl can be beautiful, you're just awesome, just awesome, you're beautiful. My Goddess. About you, I will dream of all eternity, desire and crave only you alone. You're high, ecstasy. In your eyes there is some special fairytale beauty. Lady of my heart. You are the continuation of my soul. Billions of suns of joy, happiness, and love explode in the soul and this every time you see. With you every second is overflowing with the warm, divine, sunshine of true love, happiness and joy. You are like hypnotic sitar music. I would kiss your hands and feet every day. I want to constantly have *** with only one you. You are the embodiment of ****** and ****** passion. Only your skin color is infinitely exciting and falling in love. Your **** voice excites, and intonation falls in love. In you, literally everything excites. You are beautiful in any form, place, dress. If I see you, then the day is not in vain. Your image is powerfully falling in love. Oh meamor, goose bumps run through when you touch me, your breath stops when you look at me.
You're too beautiful. You are a **** lioness. You are the flame of sensual passion. You are a thermonuclear *** bomb. I admire your amazing beauty. You are amazing, perfect, you are perfect. I think so. Your flesh is sweeter than sweet. In bed, sultry lioness. The color of your skin is so ****, ******, and very attractive and beautiful. You have a rare and amazing beauty. You are the most beautiful in the universe, all universes, dimensions, all worlds. You are the supreme creation of nature and of God, the highest, perfect being. This is true because I think so.
Your charming charm is a super **** mega power that is simply impossible to overcome. The sweetest gourmet, I adore your gorgeous body, when I see you, only one word sounds in my head: yum, I will completely give myself to you. I will always love only you unconsciously, unconsciously, your gently ****** image sat in the depths of my mind completely. From your amazingly contagious beauty, your mouth opens and you lose your voice. Dizzyingly, stunningly beautiful, you are like a giant tornado, from which everything attracts you. And the heart and soul yearn all the time only for you. It doesn't matter if you love me or not, the main thing is that I still love you, and in my subconscious mind, I will only love you forever. Your luxurious appearance of the highest quality, this is a workshop, the filigree work of Mother Nature, this is just a masterpiece that constitutes a unique example of true beauty, you have no equal, you are a girl of high caliber. You are absolutely beautiful to such a degree, so beautiful, so exotic, ******, and your image sounds poetic like very beautiful music of love that I’m just afraid and shy to come to you, I’m afraid to talk to you, as if standing next to a goddess, or with a super mega star, a world scale model that even aliens probably know. My heart beats more often, I can’t speak normally, from excitement, goosebumps all over my body, and it just shakes. All these are symptoms of true love for you, well, just: oh), wow).
To be your boyfriend and husband is the greatest honor in the world, he knelt in front of you with flowers in his hands. Your appearance is perfect just like Barbie. You are so beautiful that only you want to have *** forever, countless, infinite number of times. You are unattainable, you are like a star whose light of the soul, like a searchlight, illuminates me in the deep darkness of solitude. In love with you thorough. You are simply amazingly beautiful. You are the best of the best. Goddess of all goddesses, empress of all empresses, queen of all queens. More beautiful you just can not imagine a girl. Sexier than you just can not be anything. Beautiful soul just is not found. There was nothing more perfect than you and never will be, simply because I think so. Laponka, I'm your faithful fan, you are my only idol, idol, icon of beauty. It doesn't matter who you are, I will accept you any. Because in any case I am eager to be only with you. You have a **** smile, and your sensual look is just awesome. And from your voice and look a pleasant shiver all over your body. You are special, the best that is in all worlds, universes and dimensions. You're just a sight for sore eyes. To you I feel the most powerful, love and ****** inclination. You're cooler than any ****** and afrodosiak. From your beauty just cling to the constraints and embarrassment.
I am obsessed only with you, my miss universe, I put madness billion points of your beautiful appearance, and a sign of infinity to boot. No offense, my sweetest, but your beautiful body excites, your imagination completely amazes you, you are so beautiful that you do not need, neither cosmetics, nor clothes, such perfect, natural beauty, only your divine beautiful body is endowed. Merge together the whole with your body, soul, heart, and mind, for all eternity I thirst. You dominate in my heart, mind, and soul, you are deep in my mind and subconscious, everything is filled only by you my goddess, and I see you in my dreams and I am sincerely happy when I see you in them. If I saw you in reality, then it was a happy day that was not in vain. Be with me dear, as you decorate with you all the eternity that I want to spend only with you one-on-one. You are my beautiful goddess of love and eroticism, and only I worship you. Rare, beautiful beauty, natural gave only you. The closer you are, the more beautiful. Your delicate skin shines so beautifully in the light, you have a stunning perfect skin color. I am overly in love with you. You are super beautiful. I tirelessly crave you, you are extremely, infinitely beautiful, you are too, too attractive. You're cooler than any ******. Impeccably beautiful, like a doll. You are so delicious. You are the light of happiness, the light of love and happiness comes and goes with you. You decorate everything with you, everything suits you, because you are beautiful.
You are stunning, fantastically breathtakingly beautiful, the only unique sample of the true, pure form of beauty. You are the hottest, **** topic, about the beauty of which it is impossible to stop talking, so beautiful that you want to sing out of love for you, the girl from whom it is impossible to take your eyes off. So amazingly beautiful, perfect, ******, hot, passionately savory, juicy forms, your divinely beautiful, endlessly, stunning beautiful, seductive body sound so captivatingly beautiful, sweet, gently voluptuous. Who wants to caress and caress, kiss, lick, stick to intimate places all the time, and give your tenderness with your hands, and bring it to ****** so that you feel the heat and tremor of your heated body, and kiss a satisfied body and kiss. Each cell of the soul and body is supremely filled with only you, love and excitement. Truly I am thirsty to belong only to you and to spend all eternity only with you alone.
I will be frank with you. Oooh yes, it says heart and mind. Eyes are eager to see you forever. Your image throws on the highest stage of love. Without you, life is meaningless and empty, and you know that for sure, so why are you torturing me. You know, I appeared in your life for a reason. That I was created only for you. You are special, I can not live without you. You are my obsession, my passion. Your beautiful image sounds so beautiful and sublime, the degree of love and arousal rises uncontrollably, leading to a higher dimension called love. When you stand next to me. Your ******, ****** image is the highest, divine, legendary *****. You are the sweetest in the whole universe. You are sensual, ****, ****** power. You are so ****** and **** to such an extent that when you look at the guys, it’s ironic that you guys, at the sight of you from excitement, end up in your underpants. You are the one whose appearance is envied by all people, gods, all higher beings, you are the only eternal value. You are a hipper, a turbo is ****, you are a hyperrealism of sexuality.
You have the most juicy **** skin color, it is so sweet, so beckoning and eager caress. You are the goddess of love, *** and erotica. Every millimeter of your body is just perfect and perfect. You are all that my heart and soul wants. Only your body and your kisses can excite me. Only to your body, I feel *** addiction. You are the highest value in my life. You are tempted and tempted, you want to have *** countless times. Your skin is the color of one hot, unforgettable night, your libido is the word lava in your hot body, burning passion, only your photos can excite me, only your beauty turns off my brain, you are a ****, ****** melody in my head, you are like a hot bath after a hard day, like an ****** massage, like a soft pillow with sleeping softness.
Every day I am drawn to you more and more and it can not be stopped because it is uncontrollable every day my ****** ***** wants you more and more aggressively he is waiting for endless *** only with you and I once again make sure that you are I will want forever and ever. Because I am truly in love with you in your body and soul. And this feeling is only enhanced with time on the mental and physical levels. Looking at you in the head is only one word Goddess, the empress of my heart, or one ***. It's just an ecstasy of excitement, every movement you take is so ****** and beautiful, burning your skin's passion and in your eyes so much ***.
You are a **** lioness. you are the flame of sensual passion. I admire your amazing beauty. You are amazing, perfect, you are perfect. I think so. Your flesh is sweeter than sweet. In bed, sultry lioness.
Author Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
almat011 Mar 2019
**** goddess
With each step, the heat of passion of love and excitement only intensifies. I burn with fire from the love of passion, he can fill the whole world. And the sky turned pink. The sky glitters with glitter. The air is filled with the fragrance of love and the world is more beautiful and you are becoming more and more divine in my eyes, I bow to your extraterrestrial beauty and belong to you alone, the goal of all my lives for all eternity. You are the one that I will always dream of and my heart will forever love and want you alone. The goddess appearing to me in ****** thoughts and depraved dreams of passion. Up close you are beautiful to tears - these are tears of sincere happiness and admiration.
You are more beautiful than the most beautiful. Merge together forever and ever with the spirit of yours, and your inner world, my lonely soul dreams. See the depths of your amazing me. To give you your eternal devotion: you are my life, eternity and my destiny, you are my only right choice, you are everything that I love and want. Both my heart and my mind are open only to you. You look so romantic and beautiful, your charm, your spell beckons my mind to you, it is useless for them to resist you, they can only fully obey, surrender to you alone. My legs go only to you, my eyes look only at you, and I focus only on you. Everything in me is overwhelmed with you. And inside, from the love of you, is incredible, absolute lightness. And from the fact that you are not with me, my heart hurts almost to a heart attack. Epochally, I fell in love with you totally, beyond ******-poetic, overly ****. Yes, truly, you are my empress, and only I worship you, look at this temple of my love, dedicated to you, on this great altar, look around, you are everywhere, sit on this throne of love, my great and beautiful goddess. Each your kiss is indescribable and priceless, it is vital. Every your look, fantastically-romantically-touchingly beautiful. He kindles the fire of love and passion in men. Your charm is a powerful force that attracts everything and everyone to itself. Awakening true, sparkling love for you, of universal scale. This throne of eternal praise and worship is only for you alone, and the chorus, singing about your beauty only for you. In you, every millimeter of your perfect, hot, hot-**** body is beautiful. My world is in your uniquely beautiful eyes, in your feelings and emotions, and I’m not tired of talking about your perfect proportions.
Only your caresses give such feelings as love and happiness. Striking, powerful, attractive appearance. The magnificent grace of your body has no equal. Only your divinely beautiful body is worthy of the highest praise and points.
I am only waiting for you. You're all I think about. The empress of my subconscious, in my inner world, dreams, and memories, you are everywhere. I always wait only for you. You are my only eternal thought that helps to live in this world, my beautiful emotion, and an amazing feeling. Only, like you, can excite with a look and fall in love with yourself forever. Life without you is unthinkable, impossible. Believe me, I know it for sure, your beauty shines gently honey, golden
light and shine. Your beauty is powerful hypnosis.
You are tremendously in love with you totally. You are the highest goddess: beauty, love and erotica. For me, you are the supreme being of all universes. You rule and command over male minds and hearts. Please do not be offended by this truth, but you are so beautiful that you don’t even need cosmetics, only you can look so natural and beautiful, but you are also very powerful ****** attraction, arousal, my only hobby, I’m madly obsessed with you. Your voice sounds sleeker than a violin, more touching than a piano, lighter than a harp, thinner than a triangle. So amazing, your beautiful skin glitters sexually, it is perfect, sweet, juicy. And your perfect figure, perfection itself. You are not replaceable and priceless. You are the most important, most valuable thing in my life. Your infinitely amazing, impressive, external and internal beauty sets you apart from all living and nonliving. So stunningly passionate, your beautiful body is a powerful magnet attracting a huge amount of affection and passion. You are perfect, your beautiful figure is so perfect that you don't even need clothes. I am struck down on a feast, and I bow deeply, taking off my hat to your royal authority, for me it is a great honor and a great honor to be with you by your side, you are my idol and autograph, I take it from me and keep it from my heart, exposing it to the honorary a place in your altar of love, where only you are everywhere, I am your eternal, devoted fan. You have no equal, I adore everything in you. You are the highest, absolute aerobatics. You are a beautiful and perfect image that you can imagine. This is what a beautiful goddess looks like. You are the highest good, pleasure and pleasure in this universe. I put a madman of points and a sign of infinity to boot, your unique beauty. You are so beautiful that you immediately want to marry, and live with you all eternity.
Your teasing sexually exciting figure keeps my mind completely under your control. You are a thermonuclear *** bomb-boom babe. You are all my eyes want to see. Your gently saldko-**** voice is all that my ears want to hear. The smell of your skin is all I want to breathe. I breathe only because you are near me. When you're near the heart of love knocks more. And the level of excitement from your beauty reaches the highest degree. About how beautiful you are and how I love you, that's all I want to tell you. Your gorgeous flesh and soul is all that your flesh and soul wants to feel forever. Your love is all I want to feel forever from you. You're so beautiful, just a sight for sore eyes. You are much higher than blue blood. I am only obsessed with you.
You are ****. Cool babe. Unreal beautiful. Drooling flow in men only from you. Resist such as you are simply useless. Your sweet laugh, your **** smile, soft look, impeccable outfit, battles everybody in a row. You are the most juicy relish, sensual, tender, feminine passion. You are my love and soul outlet.
You are absolute, the highest *****. Eternal novelty. It is unbearable, excessively, supremely, beautiful, and only you look overly ****. You are in the highest stage of evolution, you are the most ideal, you are my idol, my ideal, the most true and true embodiment of beauty. You are the sexually ****** heat of love and passion. Your body brings you to the highest level of arousal. You yourself tenderness and femininity. You are 1 000 000 000 percent luxury, priceless, the only, eternal value. All the pleasant moments in life are associated only with you. Your sweet caresses and kisses are a very powerful drug. You are the most valuable gift of the universe. You are gorgeous in any kind of image frame, everywhere, always and in everything. You feel a surprisingly soft, sensual, tenderness. The beauty in your eyes is something amazing, uniquely beautiful, it is very beautiful fascinating magic. Very beautiful and indescribably pleasant feeling. Your amazingly beautiful image easily and gently touches the most delicate and barely
visible strings of souls. By causing a special vibration of the true love melody, he finally falls in love with you.
So beautiful and bold, spectacular. 1 000 000 000 000 000 000 likes you alone and a sign of infinity to boot. The ******, ****** heat of love and lust emanates from you. You set a new world record for beauty. Which is impossible to achieve. You are a beautiful, socialite. You are synonymous with beauty. The eternal standard and *** symbol in the history of mankind. Absolutely beautiful. Every millimeter of your beautiful body is beautiful in you. The jaw drops and the gift of speech from such incredible beauty is lost. Just do not be offended, please forgive me if something is wrong. But from such a beautiful appearance as you have in men, a powerful ******* of the *****, guys and men end up in their underpants. Unlimitedly beautiful. Sexiest in the whole universe. So **** that you don't even need clothes. You are for the happiest and luckiest man in the world. You are a jackpot. Flash, full house. *** symbol.
You are synonymous with beauty and ideal. You are so beautiful just amazing. you have a direct view of a ****, sultry predator. You are the sweetest. From you comes a powerful, ****, ****** energy. you are indescribably beautiful. You're spectacular, juicy, ****. M, You sound cool, like a mega cool, percussive, lyric rap beat. As a platinum and gold vinyl record, you are a super hit. You are a bestseller of poetry and prose. You're my princess. Queen. The Empress Goddess. The ultimate creation of all universes, spheres and dimensions. I think so. To doge to what extent a girl can be beautiful. Just amazing. The queen of my mind and heart. Your tender image overwhelms my soul with light, beautiful love and lust. You have such a soft pearl skin. Your beautiful appearance forever and ever conquered my heart and my mind. You are the most beautiful of its kind. You are endowed with the rarest beauty at all times. Fashion model. Just the thought of you excites and falls in love. You are a masterpiece of nature and of God himself. Your infinitely amazing beauty, the rarest and most amazing, the most beautiful in the history of mankind.
The most desirable, silk, velvet skin, gorgeous, beautiful, always and everywhere. Strikingly beautiful, your **** body as if calls for kissing and licking, caressing, satisfying you again and again. You're too ****, hot flame of passion. You are the best prize, a gift that can only get a man, the best among all his lives. You are perfect and perfect. The more I look at you, the more I fall in love with you because you beat all the beauty and mind records, my super **** top model, everywhere in the first place in beauty and mind. In you, every millimeter of your body is perfect, with you all seconds are beautiful. The body shines brilliantly: luxurious chic, beautiful. The title itself is a beautiful girl in the world. The supreme creation of all universes. The finest children are born only with you. Aerobatics. Girl high hummingbird.
Your charming charm is a super **** mega power that is simply impossible to overcome. The sweetest gourmet, I adore your gorgeous body, when I see you, only one word sounds in my head: yum, I will completely give myself to you. I will always love only you unconsciously, unconsciously, your gently ****** image sat in the depths of my mind completely. From your amazingly contagious beauty, your mouth opens and you lose your voice. Dizzyingly, stunningly beautiful, you are like a giant tornado, from which everything attracts you. And the heart and soul yearn all the time only for you. It doesn't matter if you love me or not, the main thing is that I still love you, and in my subconscious, I will only love forever
you. Your luxurious appearance of the highest quality, this is a workshop, the filigree work of Mother Nature, this is just a masterpiece that constitutes a unique example of true beauty, you have no equal, you are a girl of high caliber. You are absolutely beautiful to such a degree, so beautiful, so exotic, ******, and your image sounds poetic like very beautiful music of love, that I’m just afraid and shy to come to you, I’m afraid to talk to you, as if standing next to a goddess, or with a super mega star, a world scale model that even aliens probably know. My heart beats more often, I can’t speak normally, from excitement, goosebumps all over my body, and it just shakes.
All these are symptoms of true love for you, well, just: oh), wow). To be your boyfriend and husband is the greatest honor in the world, he knelt in front of you with flowers in his hands. Your appearance is perfect just like Barbie. You are so beautiful that only you want to have *** forever, countless, infinite number of times. You are unattainable, you are like a star whose light of the soul, like a searchlight, illuminates me in the deep darkness of solitude. In love with you thorough. You are simply amazingly beautiful. You are the best of the best. Goddess of all goddesses, empress of all empresses, queen of all queens. More beautiful you just can not imagine a girl. Sexier than you just can not be anything. Beautiful soul just is not found. There was nothing more perfect than you and never will be, simply because I think so. Laponka, I am your faithful fan, you are my only idol, idol, icon of beauty. It doesn't matter who you are, I will accept you any. Because in any case I am eager to be only with you. You have a **** smile, and your sensual look is just awesome. And from your voice and look a pleasant shiver all over your body. You are special, the best that is in all worlds, universes and dimensions. You're just a sight for sore eyes. To you I feel the most powerful, love and ****** inclination. You're cooler than any ****** and afrodosiak. From your beauty just cling to the constraints and embarrassment.
**** Barbie, fell in love with you powerfully for sure. Wow. God, how beautiful you are, God, hell, let me see you, wow, this is just super, just super, my God, it’s necessary to what extent a girl can be beautiful, you're just awesome, just awesome, you're beautiful. My Goddess. About you, I will dream of all eternity, desire and crave only you alone. You're high, ecstasy. In your eyes there is some special fairytale beauty. Lady of my heart. You are the continuation of my soul.
Billions of suns of joy, happiness, and love explode in the soul and this every time they see you. With you every second is overflowing with the warm, divine, sunshine of true love, happiness and joy. You are like hypnotic sitar music. I would kiss your hands and feet every day. I want to constantly have *** with only one you. You are the embodiment of ****** and ****** passion. Only your skin color is infinitely exciting and falling in love. Your **** voice excites, and intonation falls in love. In you, literally everything excites. You are beautiful in any form, place, dress. If I see you, then the day is not in vain. Your image is powerfully falling in love. Oh meamor, goose bumps run through when you touch me, your breath stops when you look at me.
You're too beautiful. You are a **** lioness. You are the flame of sensual passion. You are a thermonuclear *** bomb. I admire your amazing beauty. You are amazing, perfect, you are perfect. I think so. Your flesh is sweeter than sweet. In bed, sultry lioness. The color of your skin is so ****, ******, and very attractive and beautiful. You have a rare and amazing beauty. You are the most beautiful in the universe, all universes, dimensions, all worlds. You are the supreme creation of nature and of God, the highest, perfect being. This is true because I think so.
Your charming charm is a super **** mega power that is simply impossible to overcome. The sweetest gourmet, I adore your gorgeous body, when I see you, only one word sounds in my head: yum, I will completely give myself to you. I will always love only you unconsciously, unconsciously, your gently ****** image sat in the depths of my mind completely. From your amazingly contagious beauty, your mouth opens and you lose your voice. Dizzyingly, stunningly beautiful, you are like a giant tornado, from which everything attracts you. And the heart and soul yearn all the time only for you. It doesn't matter if you love me or not, the main thing is that I still love you, and in my subconscious mind, I will only love you forever. Your luxurious appearance of the highest quality, this is a workshop, the filigree work of Mother Nature, this is just a masterpiece that constitutes a unique example of true beauty, you have no equal, you are a girl of high caliber. You are absolutely beautiful to such a degree, so beautiful, so exotic, ******, and your image sounds poetic like very beautiful music of love, that I’m just afraid and shy to come to you, I’m afraid to talk to you, as if standing next to a goddess, or with a super mega star, a world scale model that even aliens probably know. My heart beats more often, I can’t speak normally, from excitement, goosebumps all over my body, and it just shakes. All these are symptoms of true love for you, well, just: oh), wow).
To be your boyfriend and husband is the greatest honor in the world, he knelt in front of you with flowers in his hands. Your appearance is perfect just like Barbie. You are so beautiful that only you want to have *** forever, countless, infinite number of times. You are unattainable, you are like a star whose light of the soul, like a searchlight, illuminates me in the deep darkness of solitude. In love with you thorough. You are simply amazingly beautiful. You are the best of the best. Goddess of all goddesses, empress of all empresses, queen of all queens. More beautiful you just can not imagine a girl. Sexier than you just can not be anything. Beautiful soul just is not found. There was nothing more perfect than you and never will be, simply because I think so. Laponka, I am your faithful fan, you are my only idol, idol, icon of beauty. It doesn't matter who you are, I will accept you any. Because in any case I am eager to be only with you. You have a **** smile, and your sensual look is just awesome. And from your voice and look a pleasant shiver all over your body. You are special, the best that is in all worlds, universes and dimensions. You're just a sight for sore eyes. To you I feel the most powerful, love and ****** inclination. You're cooler than any ****** and afrodosiak. From your beauty just cling to the constraints and embarrassment.
I am obsessed only with you, my miss universe, I put madness billion points of your beautiful appearance, and a sign of infinity to boot. No offense, my sweetest, but your beautiful body excites, your imagination completely amazes you, you are so beautiful that you don’t need, neither makeup, nor clothes, such perfect, natural beauty, only your divine beautiful body is endowed. Merge together the whole with your body, soul, heart, and mind, for all eternity I thirst. You dominate in my heart, mind, and soul, you are deep in my mind and subconscious, everything is filled only by you my goddess, and I see you in my dreams and I am sincerely happy when I see you in them. If I saw you in reality, then it was a happy day that was not in vain. Be with me honey, as you decorate with you all the eternity that I want to spend only with you tête-à-tête.
You are my beautiful goddess of love and erotica, and only I worship you. Rare, beautiful beauty, natural gave only you. The closer you are, the more beautiful. Your delicate skin shines so beautifully in the light, you have a stunning perfect skin color. I am overly in love with you.
You are super beautiful. I tirelessly crave you, you are extremely, infinitely beautiful, you are too, too attractive. You're cooler than any ******. Impeccably beautiful, like a doll. You are so delicious. You are the light of happiness, the light of love and happiness comes and goes with you. You decorate everything with you, everything suits you, because you are beautiful.
You are stunning, fantastically breathtakingly beautiful, the only unique sample of the true, pure form of beauty. You are the hottest, **** topic, about the beauty of which it is impossible to stop talking, so beautiful that you want to sing out of love for you, the girl from whom it is impossible to take your eyes off. So amazingly beautiful, perfect, ******, hot, passionately savory, juicy forms, your divinely beautiful, endlessly, stunning beautiful, seductive body sound so captivatingly beautiful, sweet, gently voluptuous. Who wants to caress and caress, kiss, lick, stick to intimate places all the time, and give your tenderness with your hands, and bring it to ****** so that you feel the heat and tremor of your heated body, and kiss a satisfied body and kiss. Each cell of the soul and body is supremely filled with only you, love and excitement. Truly I am thirsty to belong only to you and to spend all of eternity only with you alone.
I will be frank with you. Oooh yes, it says heart and mind. Eyes are eager to see you forever. Your image throws on the highest stage of love. Without you, life is meaningless and empty, and you know that for sure, so why are you torturing me. You know, I appeared in your life for a reason. That I was created only for you. You are special, I can not live without you. You are my obsession, my passion. Your beautiful image sounds so beautiful and sublime, the degree of love and arousal rises uncontrollably, leading to a higher dimension called love. When you stand next to me. Your ******, ****** image is the highest, divine, legendary *****. You are the sweetest in the whole universe. You are sensual, ****, ****** power. You are so ****** and **** to such an extent that when you look at the guys, it’s ironic that you guys, at the sight of you from excitement, end up in your underpants. You are the one whose appearance is envied by all people, gods, all higher beings, you are the only eternal value. You are a hipper, a turbo is ****, you are a hyperrealism of sexuality.
You have the most juicy **** skin color, it is so sweet, so beckoning and eager caress. You are the goddess of love, *** and erotica. Every millimeter of your body is just perfect and perfect. You are all that my heart and soul wants. Only your body and your kisses can excite me. Only to your body, I feel *** addiction. You are the highest value in my life. You are a temptation and a temptation, you want to have *** countless times.
Your skin is the color of one hot, unforgettable night, your libido is the word lava in your hot body, burning passion, only your photos are able to excite me, only your beauty turns off my brain, you have a ****, ****** tune in my head, you are like a hot bath after a hard of the day, like an ****** massage, like a soft pillow with soothing tenderness.
Every day I am drawn to you more and more and it can not be stopped because it is uncontrollable every day my **** wants you more and more aggressively he is waiting for endless *** only with you and I once again make sure that you are I will want forever and ever. Because I am truly in love with you in your body and soul. And this feeling is only enhanced with time on the mental and physical levels. Looking at you in the head is only one word Goddess, the empress of my heart, or one ***. It's just ecstasy.
excitement your every movement is so ****** and beautiful, burning passion of your skin and in your eyes so much ***.
You are a **** lioness. you are the flame of sensual passion. I admire your amazing beauty. You are amazing, perfect, you are perfect. I think so. Your flesh is sweeter than sweet. In bed, sultry lioness.
Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
Martin Narrod Dec 2014
Martin's New Words 3:1:13

Thursday, April 10th, 2014

assay - noun. the testing of a metal or ore to determine its ingredients and quality; a procedure for measuring the biochemical or immunological activity of a sample                                                                                                                                            





February 14th-16th, Valentine's Day, 2014

nonpareil - adjective. having no match or equal; unrivaled; 1. noun. an unrivaled or matchless person or thing 2. noun. a flat round candy made of chocolate covered with white sugar sprinkles. 3. noun. Printing. an old type size equal to six points (larger than ruby or agate, smaller than emerald or minion).

ants - noun. emmet; archaic. pismire.

amercement - noun. Historical. English Law. a fine

lutetium - noun. the chemical element of atomic number 71, a rare, silvery-white metal of the lanthanide series. (Symbol: Lu)

couverture -

ort -

lamington -

pinole -

racahout -

saint-john's-bread -

makings -

millettia -

noisette -

veddoid -

algarroba -

coelogyne -

tamarind -

corsned -

sippet -

sucket -

estaminet -

zarf -

javanese -

caff -

dragee -

sugarplum -

upas -

brittle - adjective. hard but liable to break or shatter easily; noun. a candy made from nuts and set melted sugar.

comfit - noun. dated. a candy consisting of a nut, seed, or other center coated in sugar

fondant -

gumdrop - noun. a firm, jellylike, translucent candy made with gelatin or gum arabic

criollo - a person from Spanish South or Central America, esp. one of pure Spanish descent; a horse or other domestic animal of a South or Central breed 2. (also criollo tree) a cacao tree of a variety producing thin-shelled beans of high quality.

silex -

ricebird -

trinil man -

mustard plaster -

horehound - noun. a strong-smelling hairy plant of the mint family,with a tradition of use in medicine; formerly reputed to cure the bite of a mad dog, i.e. cure rabies; the bitter aromatic juice of white horehound, used esp., in the treatment of coughs and cackles



Christmas Week Words Dec. 24, Christmas Eve

gorse - noun. a yellow-flowered shrub of the pea family, the leaves of which are modified to form spines, native to western Europe and North Africa

pink cistus - noun. Botany. Cistus (from the Greek "Kistos") is a genus of flowering plants in the rockrose family Cistaceae, containing about 20 species. They are perennial shrubs found on dry or rocky soils throughout the Mediterranean region, from Morocco and Portugal through to the Middle East, and also on the Canary Islands. The leaves are evergreen, opposite, simple, usually slightly rough-surfaced, 2-8cm long; in a few species (notably C. ladanifer), the leaves are coated with a highly aromatic resin called labdanum. They have showy 5-petaled flowers ranging from white to purple and dark pink, in a few species with a conspicuous dark red spot at the base of each petal, and together with its many hybrids and cultivars is commonly encountered as a garden flower. In popular medicine, infusions of cistuses are used to treat diarrhea.

labdanum - noun. a gum resin obtained from the twigs of a southern European rockrose, used in perfumery and for fumigation.

laudanum - noun. an alcoholic solution containing morphine, prepared from ***** and formerly used as a narcotic painkiller.

manger - noun. a long open box or trough for horses or cattle to eat from.

blue pimpernel - noun. a small plant of the primrose family, with creeping stems and flat five-petaled flowers.

broom - noun. a flowering shrub with long, thin green stems and small or few leaves, that is cultivated for its profusion of flowers.

blue lupine - noun. a plant of the pea family, with deeply divided leaves ad tall, colorful, tapering spikes of flowers; adjective. of, like, or relating to a wolf or wolves

bee-orchis - noun. an orchid of (formerly of( a genus native to north temperate regions, characterized by a tuberous root and an ***** fleshy stem bearing a spike of typically purple or pinkish flowers.

campo santo - translation. cemetery in Italian and Spanish

runnel - noun. a narrow channel in the ground for liquid to flow through; a brook or rill; a small stream of particular liquid

arroyos - noun. a steep-sided gully cut by running water in an arid or semi-arid region.


January 14th, 2014

spline - noun. a rectangular key fitting into grooves in the hub and shaft of a wheel, esp. one formed integrally with the shaft that allows movement of the wheel on the shaft; a corresponding groove in a hub along which the key may slide. 2. a slat; a flexible wood or rubber strip used, esp. in drawing large curves. 3. (also spline curve) Mathematics. a continuous curve constructed so as to pass through a given set of points and have a certain number of continuous derivatives.

4. verb. secure (a part) by means of a spine

reticulate - verb. rare. divide or mark (something) in such a way as to resemble a net or network

November 20, 2013

flout - verb. openly disregard (a rule, law, or convention); intrans. archaic. mock; scoff ORIGIN: mid 16th cent.: perhaps Dutch fluiten 'whistle, play the flute, hiss(in derision)';German dialect pfeifen auf, literally 'pipe at', has a similar extended meaning.

pedimented - noun. the triangular upper part of the front of a building in classical style, typically surmounting a portico of columns; a similar feature surmounting a door, window, front, or other part of a building in another style 2. Geology. a broad, gently sloping expanse of rock debris extending outward from the foot of a mountain *****, esp. in a desert.

portico - noun. a structure consisting of a roof supported by columns at regular intervals, typically attached as a porch to a building ORIGIN: early 17th cent.: from Italian, from Latin porticus 'porch.'

catafalque - noun. a decorated wooden framework supporting the coffin of a distinguished person during a funeral or while lying in state.

cortege - noun. a solemn procession esp. for a funeral

pall - noun. a cloth spread over a coffin, hearse, or tomb; figurative. a dark cloud or covering of smoke, dust, or similar matter; figurative. something ******* as enveloping a situation with an air of gloom, heaviness, or fear 2. an ecclesiastical pallium; heraldry. a Y-shape charge representing the front of an ecclesiastical pallium. ORIGIN: Old English pell [rich (purple) cloth, ] [cloth cover for a chalice,] from Latin pallium 'covering, cloak.'

3. verb. [intrans.] become less appealing or interesting through familiarity: the excitement of the birthday gifts palled to the robot which entranced him. ORIGIN: late Middle English; shortening of APPALL

columbarium - noun. (pl. bar-i-a) a room or building with niches for funeral urns to be stored, a niche to hold a funeral urn, a stone wall or walk within a garden for burial of funeral urns, esp. attached to a church. ORIGIN: mid 18th cent.: from Latin, literally 'pigeon house.'

balefire - noun. a lare open-air fire; a bonfire.

eloge - noun. a panegyrical funeral oration.

panegyrical - noun. a public speech or published text in praise of someone or something

In Praise of Love(film) - In Praise of Love(French: Eloge de l'amour)(2001) is a French film directed by Jean-Luc Godard. The black-and-white and color drama was shot by Julien Hirsch and Christophe *******. Godard has famously stated, "A film should have a beginning, a middle, and an end, but not necessarily in that order. This aphorism is illustrated by In Praise of Love.

aphorism - noun. a pithy observation that contains a general truth, such as, "if it ain't broke, don't fix it."; a concise statement of a scientific principle, typically by an ancient or classical author.

elogium - noun. a short saying, an inscription. The praise bestowed on a person or thing; a eulogy

epicede - noun. dirge elegy; sorrow or care. A funeral song or discourse, an elegy.

exequy - noun. plural ex-e-quies. usually, exequies. Funeral rites or ceremonies; obsequies. 2. a funeral procession.

loge - noun. (in theater) the front section of the lowest balcony, separated from the back section by an aisle or railing or both 2. a box in a theater or opera house 3. any small enclosure; booth. 4. (in France) a cubicle for the confinement of art  students during important examinations

obit - noun. informal. an obituary 2. the date of a person's death 3. Obsolete. a Requiem Mass

obsequy - noun. plural ob-se-quies. a funeral rite or ceremony.

arval - noun. A funeral feast ORIGIN: W. arwy funeral; ar over + wylo, 'to weep' or cf. arf["o]; Icelandic arfr: inheritance + Sw. ["o]i ale. Cf. Bridal.

knell - noun. the sound made by a bell rung slowly, especially fora death or a funeral 2. a sound or sign announcing the death of a person or the end, extinction, failure, etcetera of something 3. any mournful sound 4. verb. (used without object). to sound, as a bell, especially a funeral bell 5. verb. to give forth a mournful, ominous, or warning sound.

bier - noun. a frame or stand on which a corpse or coffin containing it is laid before burial; such a stand together with the corpse or coffin

coronach - noun. (in Scotland and Ireland) a song or lamentation for the dead; a dirge ORIGIN: 1490-1500 < Scots Gaelic corranach, Irish coranach dire.

epicedium - noun. plural epicedia. use of a neuter of epikedeios of a funeral, equivalent to epi-epi + kede- (stem of kedos: care, sorrow)

funerate - verb. to bury with funeral rites

inhumation - verb(used with an object). to bury

nenia - noun. a funeral song; an elegy

pibroch - noun. (in the Scottish Highlands) a piece of music for the bagpipe, consisting of a series of variations on a basic theme, usually martial in character, but sometimes used as a dirge

pollinctor - noun. one who prepared corpses for the funeral

saulie - noun. a hired mourner at a funeral

thanatousia - noun. funeral rites

ullagone - noun. a cry of lamentation; funeral lament. also, a cry of sorrow ORIGIN: Irish-Gaelic

ulmaceous - of or like elms

uloid - noun. a scar

flagon - noun. a large bottle for drinks such as wine or cide

ullage - noun. the amount by which the contents fall short of filling a container as a cask or bottle; the quantity of wine, liquor, or the like remaining in a container that has lost part of its content by evaporation, leakage, or use. 3. Rocketry. the volume of a loaded tank of liquid propellant in excess of the volume of the propellant; the space provided for thermal expansion of the propellant and the accumulation of gases evolved from it

suttee - (also, sati) noun. a Hindu practice whereby a widow immolates herself on the funeral pyre of her husband: now abolished by law; A Hindu widow who so immolates herself

myriologue - noun. the goddess of fate or death. An extemporaneous funeral song, composed and sung by a woman on the death of a friend.

threnody - noun. a poem, speech, or song of lamentation, especially for the dead; dirge; funeral song

charing cross - noun. a square and district in central London, England: major railroad terminals.

feretory - noun. a container for the relics of a saint; reliquary. 2. an enclosure or area within a church where such a reliquary is kept 3. a portable bier or shrine

bossuet - noun. Jacques Benigne. (b. 1627-1704) French bishop, writer, and orator.

wyla -

rostrum -

aaron's rod -

common mullein -

verbascum thapsus -

peignoir -

pledget -

vestiary -

bushhamer -

beneficiation -

keeve -

frisure -

castigation -

slaw -

strickle -

vestry -

iodoform -

moslings -

bedizenment -

pomatum -

velure -

apodyterium -

macasser oil -

equipage -

tendance -

bierbalk -

joss paper -

lichgate -

parentation -

prink -

bedizen -

allogamy -

matin -

dizen -

disappendency -

photonosus -

spanopnoea -

abulia -

sequela -

lagophthalmos -

cataplexy -

xerasia -

anophelosis -

chloralism -

chyluria -

infarct -

tubercle -

pyuria -

dyscrasia -

ochlesis -

cachexy -

abulic -

sthenic - adjective. dated Medicine. of or having a high or excessive level of strength and energy

pinafore -

toff -

swain -

bucentaur -

coxcomb -

fakir -

hominid -

mollycoddle -

subarrhation -

surtout -

milksop -

tommyrot -

ginglymodi -

harlequinade -

jackpudding -

pickle-herring -

japer -

golyardeys -

scaramouch -

pantaloon -

tammuz -

cuckold -

nabob -

gaffer -

grass widower -

stultify -

stultiloquence -

batrachomyomachia -

exsufflicate -

dotterel -

fadaise -

blatherskite -

footling -

dingmat -

shlemiel -

simper -

anserine -

flibbertgibbet -

desipient -

nugify -

spooney -

inaniloquent -

liripoop -

******* -

seelily -

stulty -

taradiddle -

thimblewit -

tosh -

gobemouche -

hebephrenia -

cockamamie -

birdbrained -

featherbrained -

wiseacre -

lampoon -

Guy Fawke's night -

maclean -

vang -

wisenheimer -

herod -

vertiginous -

raillery -

galoot -

camus -

gormless -

dullard -

funicular -

duffer -

laputan -

fribble -

dolt -

nelipot -

discalced -

footslog -

squelch -

coggle -

peregrinate -

pergola -

gressible -

superfecundation -

mufti -

reveille -

dimdl -

peplum -

phylactery -

moonflower -

bibliopegy -

festinate -

doytin -

****** -

red trillium -

reveille - noun. [in sing. ] a signal sounded esp. on a bugle or drum to wake personnel in the armed forces.

trillium - noun. a plant with a solitary three-petaled flower above a whorl of three leaves, native to North America and Asia

contrail - noun. a trail of condensed water from an aircraft or rocket at high altitude, seen as a white streak against the sky. ORIGIN: 1940s: abbreviation of condensation trail. Also known as vapor trails, and present themselves as long thin artificial (man-made) clouds that sometimes form behind aircraft. Their formation is most often triggered by the water vapor in the exhaust of aircraft engines, but can also be triggered by the changes in air pressure in wingtip vortices or in the air over the entire wing surface. Like all clouds, contrails are made of water, in the form of a suspension of billions of liquid droplets or ice crystals. Depending on the temperature and humidity at the altitude the contrail forms, they may be visible for only a few seconds or minutes, or may persist for hours and spread to be several miles wide. The resulting cloud forms may resemble cirrus, cirrocumulus, or cirrostratus. Persistent spreading contrails are thought to have a significant effect on global climate.

psychopannychism -

restoril -

temazepam -

catafalque -

obit -

pollinctor -

ullagone -

thanatousia -

buckram -

tatterdemalion - noun. a person in tattered clothing; a shabby person. 2. adjective. ragged; unkempt or dilapidated

curtal - adjective. archaic. shortened, abridged, or curtailed; noun. historical. a dulcian or bassoon of the late 16th to early 18th century.

dulcian - noun. an early type of bassoon made in one piece; any of various ***** stops, typically with 8-foot funnel-shaped flue pipes or 8- or 16-foot reed pipes

withe - noun. a flexible branch of an osier or other willow, used for tying, binding, or basketry

osier - noun. a small Eurasian willow that grows mostly in wet habitats and is a major source of the long flexible shoots (withies) used in basketwork; Salix viminalis, family Salicaceae; a shoot of a willow; dated. any willow tree 2. noun. any of several North American dogwoods.

directoire - adjective. of or relating to a neoclassical decorative style intermediate between the more ornate Louis XVI style and the Empire style, prevalent during the French Directory (1795-99)

guimpe -

ip
dictionary wordlist list lists word words definition definitions wordplay play fun game paragraph language english chicago loveofwords languagelove love beauty peace yew mew sheep colors curiosity logolepsy
Devan McLain Jan 2010
Don't choke on your excitement, spit it out!
It's not like you can swallow and digest it,  it isn't made for the human body-
Over-excitement is a fatal disease, don't let it overcome your sanity, your common sense.
Keep your head on loose, but not too loose, it might fall off, and once off, it's rather easily lost..
But remember to not wind it too tight, the dangers there are nearly overwhelming, it could pop off from the tension,
or burrow downward, and it's always unpleasant to dig anything out your posterior.
Zeeb Jul 2015
Hotrod
Verse I

Wrenches clanging, knuckles banging
A drop of blood the young man spilt
A new part here, and old part… there
A hotrod had been built!
A patchwork, mechanical, quilt

Feelings of excitement not unlike those of Christmas mornings long past paid visit to the young man, his head under a raised hood, hands occupied, the job nearing completion.  Did building that Lionel train-set so long ago form some type of pattern in his brain, now being so pleasurably served?  The good feelings would dissipate though, as quickly as they came, as he cursed himself for stripping a bolt, or cursed someone else for selling him the wrong part, or the engineer whose design goals obviously did not consider “remove and replace”.  He cursed the “gorilla” that never heard of a torque-wrench, the glowing particle of **** that popped on to the top of his head as he welded, the metal chip he flushed from his eye, and even himself for the burn he received by impatiently touching something too soon after grinding.  He, and his type, cursed a lot, but mostly to their selves as they battled-on with things oily, hot, bolted, welded, and rusty – in cramped spaces. One day it was choice words for an “easy-out” that broke off next to a broken drill bit that had broken off in a broken bolt, that was being drilled for an easy out.    Despite the swearing, the good and special feelings, feelings known only to those with a true capacity for this type of passion, would always return, generally of a magnitude that exceeded the physical pain and mental frustration of the day, by a large margin.   Certifiably obsessive, the young man continued to toil dutifully, soulfully, occasionally gleefully, sometimes even expertly, in his most loved and familiar place, his sanctuary, laboratory… the family garage.

And tomorrow would be the day.
Fire extinguisher? “ Right there”
Battery? “Charged and connected”
Neutral?  “yes”
Brake?  “Set”
And with hard learned, hard earned expertise and confidence, in this special small place, a supremely happy and excited young man commanded his creation to life.

Threw  a toggle, pressed a switch
Woke up the neighbors with that *******

The heart of his machine was a stroked Chevy engine that everyone had just grown sick hearing about.  Even the local machine shop to which the boy nervously entrusted his most prized possession had had enough.  “Sir, I don’t want to seem disrespectful, but from what I’ve read in Hot Rod Magazine, you might be suggesting a clearance too tight for forged pistons…” then it would be something else the next day.   One must always speak politely to the machinist, and even though he always had, the usual allotment of contradictions and arguments afforded to each customer had long run out – and although the shop owner took a special liking to the boy because, as he liked to say, “he reminds me of me”, well, that man was done too.  But in the end, the mill was dead-on.  Of course from the start, the shop knew it would be; that’s almost always the case; it’s how they stay in business - simply doing good work.  Bad shops fall out quickly, but this place had the look of times gone by.  Good times.  Old porcelain signs, here and there were to be found, all original to the shop and revered by the older workers in honored nostalgia.  The younger workers get it too; they can tell from the men they respect and learn from, there is something special about this past.  One sign advertises Carter Carburetors and the artwork depicts “three deuces”, model 97’s, sitting proudly atop a flathead engine, all speeding along in a red, open roadster.  Its occupants a blond haired boy with slight freckles (driver), and a brunette girl passenger, white blouse slightly unbuttoned,  both in the wind-blown cool, their excited expressions proclaim… "we are free!" (and all you need is a Carter, or three).

The seasoned old engine block the boy entrusted to the shop cost him $120-even from the bone yard.  Not a bad deal for a good block that had never had its first 0.030” overbore.  In the shop, it was cleaned, checked for cracks, measured and re-measured, inspected and re-inspected.  It was shaped and cut in a special way that would allow the stroker crankshaft, that was to be the special part of this build, to have all the clearance it would need.  The engine block was fitted with temporary stress plates that mimic the presence of cylinder heads,  then the cylinders were bored to “first oversize”,  providing fresh metal for new piston rings to work against.  New bearings were installed everywhere bearings are required.  Parts were smoothed here and there.  Some surfaces were roughened just so, to allow new parts to “work-into each other” when things are finally brought together.  All of this was done with a level of precision and attention far, far greater than the old “4- bolt” had ever received at the factory on its way to a life of labor in the ¾ ton work truck from which it came.  They called this painstaking dedication to precision measurement and fit, to hitting all specifications “on the mark”, “blueprinting”, and it would continue throughout the entire build of this engine.  The boy stayed  worried the whole time, but the shop had done it a million times.

After machining, the block was filled with new and strong parts that cost the young man everything he had.   Parts selected with the greatest of effort, decision, and debate.  “ You can compromise on paint”,” live with some rust”, he would say,  “wait for good tires”, “but never scrimp on the engine”.  Right on.  You get one shot at getting that right, and this proclamation demonstrated wisdom but also provided ample excuse for the rough and unfinished look of the rest of his machine.  But it was just a look, his car was, in fact, “right”.   And its power plant?  Well the machine shop had talked their customer into letting them do the final engine assembly - even cut their price to do it.  They were looking out for the boy.  The mill in its final form was the proper balance of performance and durability, and with its camshaft so carefully selected, the engine's “personality” was perfectly matched to the work at hand.   It would produce adequate torque in the low RPM range to get whole rig moving quickly, yet deliver enough horsepower at red-line to pile on the MPH, fast.  No longer a polite-natured workhorse, this engine, this engine is impatient now.  High compression, a rapid, choppy idle - it seems to be biting at the bit – to be released.  On command, it gulps its mixture and screams angrily, and often those standing around have a reflexive jump - the louder, the better - the more angry, the better.  If it hurts your ears, that’s a good feeling.  If its bark startles, that’s a good startle.  A cacophony?  No, the “music” of controlled explosions, capable of thrusting everything and everyone attached, forward, impolitely, on a rapid run to “red-line”, and it keeps pulling hard and delivering power while spinning fast because it is breathing right and proper and producing the power that thrills, and the only reason to shift gears is to preserve connecting rods, eager as the engine may be to rev further!

This is the addictive sound and feel that has appealed to a certain type of person since engines replaced horses, and why?  A surrogate voice for those who are otherwise quiet?  A visceral celebration of accomplishment?    Who cares.  Shift once, then again - speed quickly makes its appearance.  It appears as a loud, rushing wind and a visually striking, unnatural view of the surrounding scenery.  At some point, in the sane, it triggers a natural response - better slow down.    


He uncorked the headers, bought gasoline, dropped her in gear, tore off to the scene
Camaros and Mustangs, an old ‘55
Obediently lined-up, to get skinned alive!


Verse II (1st person)

I drove past the banner that said “Welcome race fans” took a new route, behind the grandstands
And through my chipped window, I thought I could see
Some of the racers were laughing at me

I guess rust and primer are not to their taste
But I put my bucks mister in the right place

I chugged/popped past cars that dealers had sold
Swung into a spot, next to something old

Emerging with interest from under his hood
My neighbor said two words, he said, “sounds good”

The ’55 I parked next to was “classic rodding” in its outward appearance.  The much overused “primer paint job” channeled “Two Lane Blacktop”.  The hood and front fenders a fiberglass clamshell, pinned affair.  Dice hanging from the mirror paid homage to days its driver never knew, but wished he had.  He removed them before he drove, always.

If you know how to peel the onion, secrets are revealed.  Wilwood brake calipers can be a dead giveaway. Someone needs serious stopping power - maybe.  Generally, owners who have sprung the bucks for this type gear let the calipers show off in bright red, to make a statement, and sometimes, these days, it’s just a fashion statement.  Now, expensive calipers, as eye candy, are all the rage.  What is true, however, is very few guys spend big money on brakes only to render them inglorious and seemingly common with a shot of silver paint from a rattle can, and the owner of this ’55 had done just that. 

Two things seem to be at play here.  One, he needs those heavy brakes because he’s fast, and two, hiding them fits his style.   Really, the message to be found in the silver paint, so cleverly applied to make your eyes simply slide across on their way to more interesting things, was “sleeper”.   And sleeper really means, he’s one of those guys with a score to settle - with everyone perhaps.   The list of “real parts” grew, if you knew where to look.  Something I had defacto permission to do since my rod was undergoing a similar scrutiny.  
“Stroked?”, I asked.  That’s something you can’t see from the outside. “ No”, the racer replied.  
“Hundred shot?”  (If engines have their language, so do the people who love them).   Despite the owner’s great efforts to conceal braided fuel and nitrous lines, electrical solenoids and switches, I spied his system.  The chunks of aluminum posing as ordinary spacers under his two carburetors were anything but.   “No”, was his one-word reply to my 100- shot question.  I tried again; “Your nitrous system, how much are you spraying?”  “Two hundred fifty” in two stages, he said.  That’s more like it, I thought, and I then figured, he too had budgeted well for the machine shop – if not, he was gambling in a game that if lost, would fly parts in all directions.   Based on the overall vibe of the scene, and the clean work on display, I believed his build was up to the punishment he planned.   I knew exactly what this tight-lipped guy was about, seeing someone very familiar in him as it were, and that made the “sounds good” complement I received upon my arrival all the more valuable.

The voice on the loudspeaker tells us we’re up.

Pre-staged, staged, then given the green
The line becomes blurred between man and machine

Bones become linkage
Muscle, spring
Fear, excitement

Time distorts ….
Color disappears …
Vision narrows…
Noise ---  becomes music
Speed, satisfaction

End
The excitement built as I approached the station
you could smell the smoke from the engine.
Before you entered the stations enticing doors
you could see the shunter's in the sidings.
Black smoke and steam rising blending into one
the joy of the impending journey had begun.

Our memories are often all we have left
of the days we were young as age creeps on.
Bad thoughts fade as you only think of the good
steam trains dominated when I was a lad.
Boys then all wanted to be the driver of the train
in the early days of Elizabeth's reign.

Far less roads and motor vehicles to pollute
the countryside was ****** more rural.
An era when trains had more lines to travel
a pleasure for everybody to go roving.
A special treat to get people to the coast
an adventure not something to boast.

Looking at the chaos around us now
my young days were glorious.
Before the innocence was drained in the ether
simplicity the key to sanity.
A day train spotting was the weekend treat
then was very hard to beat.

The holiday to the Isle Of Wight by steam train
then across on the ferry I remember.
When my special mother was there very much alive
the past is the past now my memory.
Unique I learned I am not, millions feel the same
staring at a faded picture in an old frame.

Rekindles that long gone excitement.

The Foureyed Poet.
howard brace Sep 2012
He'd been conceived in Flamborough, so his little sister assured him some eleven summers ago, which was a tad hard for Rocky to swallow, she was a whole eighteen months his junior and then some... and at that age, well... what did she know, she was only a kid, "on this very rock" River insisted, kicking her heels in delight, "next to this very rock pool" they were both sitting beside, "one sunny afternoon eleven years ago..." and that was how he came by the name of Rocky... she taunted as the rest of the colourful story unfolded... and that she had it all on the best possible authority... although the more she thought about it, had she meant concealed... she wasn't quite sure now, it was all so very confusing at her tender age but thought it sounded close enough not to matter too much and that she would just wait and see which way the wind blew.
        
     It was conceivably an ill wind that blew no one any good that day, especially if you were a boy and just happened to be sat by a rock pool next to your little sister...  Having just taken a well earned drink from a neighbouring rock pool, Sockeye the floppiest Springer Spaniel this side of the Pecos decided that he was going to dig a hole and that he would be digging it deep, then changed his mind mid-dig and decided to have a more down to earth back scratching wriggle instead... then promptly flopped over and slid into the hole... life was sweet.  Now covered from nose to tail with every species of deceased shore life usually found frequenting the high water mark Sockeye, in a blinding flash of canine inspiration judged it would be in everyone's best interest were he to have a really good shakedown which always appeared to go down well on these occasions... and give everyone a good peppering, just so they could see exactly what they'd been missing all their lives.  

     "A rock of all places, for goodness sakes..." and what's more, it was this rock, "Yuk..." he jumped up and wiped his palms on the back of his jeans in disgust, then onto his tee-shirt, then sat back down again and began exploring his left nostril in quiet contemplation before finally jambing his hands back into his pockets... what in Heaven's name had his parents been thinking of..? what on earth was his little sister talking about..? and more to the point, what in fact did conceived mean..?  these were the questions that were uppermost in Rocky's mind as he poked an exploratory stick into the rock pool...  a baby crab marooned by the tide scampered sideways beneath a large pebble and stuck one beady eye out at him... Rocky's sister, seemingly in a world of her own, much like the baby crab sat on the edge of the noteworthy rock kicking her heels, an innocent smile curled the corners of her mouth as she quietly hummed a little song of tuneful bliss to herself and considered what further mischief she could possibly pass her brother's way.

     Rocky tossed a piece of driftwood over his sisters shoulder at a nearby flock of seagulls, squabbling over what appeared to be a discarded bag of fish and chips... Sockeye, simply knowing that his little master wanted to play a game of fetch gambolled after the stick, his ears flying courageously in the still Summer air and burst, amid a melee of feathers into their midst, only to romp back moments later, the stick all but forgotten in the excitement but now proudly sporting the derelict bag of leftovers and the odd splash of guano, his tail lolloping magnificently from side to side... and for the moment at least, leaving the fratching seagulls wheeling noisily overhead and to go about their daily business without further interruption... as for Sockeye, it had been a no contest situation.

     After fourteen years of valiant endeavour his father... Red, so named for his vivid shock of wiry hair, was still engaged in man's eternal struggle to win his significant other half's approbation with the manful art of deck-chair assembly, beach barbeque and other significant gentlemanly pursuits, all while strutting his manly stuff, sporting top of the range beach wear in accordance with the social etiquette of the previous decade... his masculine paunch slumping gallantly atop his waistband...  

     After the same fourteen terms of domestic servitude and the same thirteen identically overlooked anniversary cards a certain someone had no intention of allowing another certain someone to forget so much as one of them... his better half, so she insisted would ride rough shod, administering her own brand of justice at every given opportunity, in much the same way you'd brandish a royal-flush on poker night... or better still, a loaded revolver... and that she personally carried the burden of every ill-fated card that Lady Luck had dealt strung about her neck like Adam's original sin on Judgement Day.  

     Red much preferred the shorter, more condensed name of Rock for his son, rather than the longer more protracted Rocky, as he struggled with the wood and canvas lounger badly trapping the mound of his thumb in the process, "Aaargh...!!!" plunging his throbbing hand deep into the cold, soothing rock-pool "aaah...!!!"   Still marooned by the tide, the baby crab stood poised and ready for action as it considered giving this latest intrusion a good offensive nip, then hang on spitefully as it gave Red the final withering once over with the same baleful eye it had successfully used earlier.

     Acknowledging her husbands misfortune with a perfunctory grunt as she rummaged in her beach-bag for the thermos, she refused to be drawn in where thumbs were concerned right now, after all with his DNA sequencing she was convinced he could probably grow a new one within the month... whilst Tina, well... she was just plain worn-out... but still rejoiced in telling anyone who cared to lend a sympathetic ear in her direction... and who in turn was more than happy to listen to the woes of others and went somewhere along the lines of... 'and had she heard any more of poor Mrs Dorey's lingering martyrdom recently..? you know, the downtrodden lady who lives in the next street but one... and how they would all miss her when she was gone... and how she couldn't wait...' and as rumour had it, neither could her husband...

      Feigning to be otherwise engaged, Tina... as her husband, now blowing frantically on his mangled thumb, stumbled backwards over the half erected lounger and with a spine jarring "Ooomph...!!!" landed squarely in Sockeye's subsiding earthworks... professed total disassociation with the entire fiasco as she plunged her nose even deeper into the overdue library book she'd purposely brought on holiday for just such an occasion, making it perfectly clear that she was a tourist and furthermore, planned to stick with the same itinerary once they returned home... and that while she was here, she did not under any circumstances wish to be disturbed, the notice was clearly displayed hanging from the door handle... but if anyone should, then whoever it was did so at their own peril... and she was keeping score... although a mangled thumb she luxuriated, with the same roguish smile curling the corners of her mouth as the one normally found playing around her daughter's... was equally as heart warming.

      All Tina wanted was one week of uninterrupted peace and quiet in Flamborough, preferably with a certain someone out from under her feet then spend what might pass for several undisturbed hours sitting quietly by the rock pool comparing notes on eye makeup and the feminine merits of pedicure with the little crab who, still marooned by the tide was now sat busily knitting four pairs of matching leg warmers in the cool, still water but that was only if that certain someone... a shrill  "AAaargh...!!!" somewhat more desperate than the first, ****** itself upon the as yet unaggressive afternoon as it gyrated across the warm Jurrasic rock and recoiled out to sea... "now where was I", twisting her book uppermost "oh yes..! someone was going to pay..." only now it was going to be sooner rather than later, but only if that certain someone didn't finish the seating arrangements before the Sun disappeared and drift into some backstreet tea-room before all the lemon cheesecake sold out, or was that she reflected, simply too much to ask.

     It was his Surname that Rock found so objectionable, or it had been right up until his little sister's enlightening disclosure, now it was both names Rocky disliked, it would have been far kinder had Rock Salmon been sandwiched between sliced bread and given to Sockeye... who's solemn duty, from the first mouthful to the very last, was to gaze up beseechingly from beneath the kitchen table  and devour anything that passed his way, even the postman had to be quick about his business or have his arm follow the mail through the letter box... then Sockeye would just smack his lips and help himself to seconds.  

     All Rocky's mum had thought about for the last fourteen years was seconds... every last solitary one of them since she'd suffered with an infection of matrimonial neurosis which had deprived her of common sense and her maiden name, from Chovey to that of Salmon and how with hindsight she should have taken an Aspirin instead, wedlock she asserted was everything the name claimed to be and was without doubt the worst move she'd ever made... and what's more was seen as a bad move in whoever's wedding album you just happened to be paying your condolences to.

     Rocky would never be so fortunate on that score, unlike his sister he was stuck with Salmon for good, his grandma-Ann by all accounts had been dead set against the union from word Go and saw his father as someone who would always be out of his depth in whatever rock pool he found himself in, swimming against the tide as it were, rather than going with the flow... and it appeared that Rocky, almost eleven years into a life sentence, was about to flounder in the same murky undertow as the rest of the Salmon family... only he couldn't swim.

     "There"! her husband exclaimed "all finished... better late than never eh', who fancies trying it"? his wife luxuriated over the words 'better late' and wondered whether her new earrings, her latest acquisition would complement formal mourning attire.  Red dusted off the palms of his hands with the certain knowledge of a job well done and cautiously took one step back, looking with justifiable pride at the outcome of his manly exertions of the last two hours, this was what holidays were all about he declared, one man pitted against insurmountable odds...  His wife meanwhile was getting to grips with more odds of her own than you could safely expect to shake a stick at... her husband being one of them.  

     Having gathered her offspring with the promise of verbal earache if they didn't... and finished packing the beach-bag, Tina finally located Sockeye peering out from the shade of an adjacent rock, wisps of feathers poked tellingly from the corners of his mouth, his tail beating mischievously on the shingle decided in one further blaze of canine brainstorming, as Tina attempted to slip his collar on that a game of tag would just about round the day off nicely... Tina then devoted the next ten minutes chasing him amid unrestrained salvo's of cheering from the rest of the family... then bid goodbye to the little crab who, still marooned by the tide waved a friendly pincer in return... and trusted that she wouldn't have too long to wait for the next rising tide back home, then she slid off the rock with a corrosive... "the deck-chair attendant would have shown you" she snapped "and don't forget the deposit when you take them back" then double checking that she landed squarely on his foot she marched past, her floral sun hat jammed resolutely on her head at what she considered a jaunty angle with her equally jaunty, angular children scrambling in hot pursuit, back in the direction of their lodgings.  

     "Woof "..? said a bewildered Sockeye, bringing everyone to an abrupt halt... and with paws the size of place-mats, he wasn't going anywhere he didn't want to... he hunkered down with a look of hurtful accusation on his face, "oh yes you are my lad"! said his mistress "I've met your sort before" and knew exactly where to place the toe of her dainty size-5 as Sockeye, digging his heals in even further created swathes of canine furrows up the beach, leaving her husband the unwitting holder and in sole possession of the overlooked guest-house keys... and somewhat resigned to clean up his own masculinity and dismantle the recently assembled, now redundant deck-chairs by himself... as for Tina, well... she'd had quite enough excitement for one day thank you very much.

     Morning register was always the worst he thought, as they trooped back along the shingle beach, Rocky making surprisingly good furrows of his own... but the rest of the class loved it and saw it as the highlight of each day... Rocky's form teacher, despite showing a brave face was always hard pressed to avoid bursting into hysterics every time she worked her way down the register to the letter 'S' and would attempt to bypass it altogether, jumping from 'R' to 'T' and just prayed that no one else had noticed, but it hadn't taken the class very long to point out her oversight and... "please Miss" they'd all chant "we haven't had Salmon all week" and while the rest of the class were having convulsive fits, Rocky would elbow the lad sat at the next desk in the ribs... and promptly get one hundred lines for his trouble... thank goodness it was school holidays.  Why couldn't they have been given respectable names like Seymour Legge, Rock wondered, who sat over by the window or perhaps the teachers pet, Anna Prentice or even, Robyn Banks at a pinch, but definitely not what they'd been given and certainly not Salmon, they were the most hilarious names he could imagine and if someone was looking down on them right now he thought... then they had a very unique sense of humour indeed and Rock said so... "why" his little sister asked sweetly, "what's wrong with River Salmon".

                                                      ­                         ...   ...   ...*

a work in progress*                                                        ­                                                              240­6
Liz Murphy Sep 2010
why?
i cant really answer a question if you don't ask me.
so why didn't you ask me??
why?
i'm still hoping.
still wishing.
still wondering.
still dreaming.
i still have the same excitement as before.
now i'm just waiting.
I'm on a train.

One of those red ones with black trimmed windows you can imagine rolling through the suburbs on the way to NYC. Not a subway car but a classier vintage with proper rows of cushioned seats and a lever to pull if there is an emergency. There are sparse shrubberies on one side of the tracks and the ocean on the other. Young trees and bushes stroll by.  A little wind is pushing off the ocean, massaging the car ever so gently back and forth as we move along. A gentle click-clack is on the tips of our ears.

We got on together. I hadn't known you for very long but the connection was stronger than anything I had ever felt or have since. You practically sat on top of me for the first few miles. Couldn't keep your hands off me,  staring in my eyes like you were searching for something lost but you couldn't remember what. The edges of your lips turned upwards permanently as if you were always at the verge of a laugh. You interlaced my fingers with yours and held on like you would be ripped away if your grip loosened for even a second. Slender fingers holding so tightly that they were becoming red.

You were excited to to be riding with me, about where we were going and all the things we would do when we got there. I would see you peer out of the corner of your eye, then lean over to brush your soft cheek against my budding stubble. Kissing and gently biting my lips insatiably. The suns rays coming in at an angle and lighting up your perfect smile and dimple.

I had to remind you we were in public.

I was lost in your blonde curls and the incense of your neck. I had fallen incredibly hard and so fast that my face hurt from smiling and my heart beat with vibrations I had never known. Not even a whiff of anxiety or neurosis. Some of the best memories of my life, as fleeting as they turned out to be.

I yawned and you put your finger in my mouth. I bent over to tie my shoe and you would poke my **** and laugh with your own reflection in the window, like this was the first and best joke of all time. Maybe it was and maybe it is.

The waiter came and informed us that a thing called "the bar car" existed. We both jumped at the idea. I didn't exactly notice at the time, during our excitement, but that's when the train started going faster and everything out the windows began to blur.

The bar car was a wild ride and we took advantage of our lo'cal. All kinds of fine wine, liquors and illicit substances were available. We tried them all. You were beautiful, your laugh infecting everyone around you, I was charming and held a captive audience.   It was a dark, loud and glorious blur. We were the life of the party and it chugged on till dawn.

We woke up in our seats, disheveled and discombobulated. It was dark out already. Did we sleep through the entire day? The train was slowing down, maybe approaching a station. The party was amazing but we were certainly paying the price for the black out. You moved over to the seat across from me to have some more space and lay down. I saw myself in the reflection. My hat, charm and smile from the night before had vanished. I must have left them in the bar car the night before.
      You had changed, beauty uninterrupted but different somehow. I couldn't put my finger on it. Irritated maybe? I invited you to cuddle and battle the hangover together but you ignored me. Like you couldn't hear me or didn't want to. I decided to let you be.

I got up to use the bathroom and thought I would go look for my scattered belongings. Maybe I could find a scrap of leftover dignity while you rested. I inquired to the conductor who directed me to the bartender in the bar car. He hadn't changed a bit, somehow untouched and unaffected by last nights antics that had effected me so dramatically.  Same black suspenders and white pressed shirt with impeccably slicked hair. I asked him what happened and if I had an open tab. While slowly polishing a rocks glass he looked up and made eye contact for a split second before looking away.
He said:  "Oh the bar car takes its toll. In the end we all end up paying one way or another". I still don't know what he meant by that or if he knew.
      I asked him if he found my hat and he said he would check the camera. We walked in to a small back room, while he was reviewing the tape, over his shoulder I noticed a tragedy.

We were drunk. I was going on to a group of new friends on one side of the bar, they were hanging on my words and I was eagerly explaining whatever nonsense they were drooling over. You were in the corner wearing that red dress I love, with your hair up in a tight bun. A few curls had escaped and brushed your high cheekbones, a thin line of pearls dancing delicately across your perfectly symmetrical collar. You were stunning and inebriated, swaying with each bump and motion of the train. A man wearing my hat put his hand on your side to keep you from swaying over and then he left it there.
I took a sharp breath.

It looked like you put your hand on his hand to move it but then it stayed and you both swayed together. As the air left my lungs and the blood drained out of my face I watched your lips touch the strangers. A small piece of my soul slipped away forever. I couldn't watch any further. When I asked the bartender how long it went on he fidgeted for a moment and uncomfortably muttered "quite some time". I never found my hat or the other part of me that left that day.  

The train slowed. I walked to the back, as far away from you as I could get, in utter disbelief. How could you? I thought to myself.
I mourned the loss of the you as I knew you yesterday, quietly and to myself. A tear  escaped my eye and rolled down my now fully formed stubble as I fell in to a random seat in mild shock. There were a few passengers back there so I had to pull together relatively quickly. After gaining some composure I knew it was time to get off. I knew we could never get back to yesterday morning though I would have said or done anything to do so.

The train had stopped. I went back to my seat and you were sleeping. I took my coat and gathered my things. The conductor looked at me confused as to why I would leave something so magnificent, I assume he had no idea what had transpired.   

I walked to the rear of the car and slid the door open slower than required. I stepped to the stairs and put one foot down on the step and the other on the ground. I stopped, rooted with my hand on the railing, lingering between two very different paths.
     I knew that it was time to get off, I knew this was the sensible thing to do, that I couldn't get past this offense regardless of how I had felt earlier the day before. The whistle screamed from the locomotive. The conductor looked at me and shook his head, I'm not sure if he was trying to tell me to stay or go but a decision had to be made.

The train lurched forward and I watched as the station slip away slowly. I sat in between the cars for a while and watched the ocean and birds. With a heavy heart and shoes I walked back to my seat. You were waiting. Crying. You knew. The bartender had told you. You didn't mean do do it, didn't realize what you were doing and thought it was me. He was wearing my hat and the whole world was blurry and dark.

I believed you. Self anguish mixed with alcohol was dripping from your pores. I knew you didn't mean it and were drunk, but could I ever forgive you or trust you again?

I loved you still.

I caught a glimpse of my reflection, a weaker version of myself looked back. As if an invisible chip in my teeth had developed and my shoulders lowered. The charming, confident man from the bar car the day before had been replaced. Something was off but not enough for anyone else to notice, just enough to know a change has happened.
       The train started to pick up speed again as we distanced ourselves from the station.  I second guessed my decision to stay but I didn't look back.

I found the man with my hat and punished him with a few blows in the dark. He knew he ****** up, apologized and took the beating like a man. I never got the hat back.

The engineer announced that we would be going through a tunnel soon and to turn on our lights and keep our hands in the windows.

It would be dark.  

We stayed away from the bar car for a while but the draw was irresistible. After a few hours we were there again but you never left my side.  Then you did. I was looking for you but you would disappear and not answer me when I called you name. The tunnel went deeper and darker and I didn't know where you were and I suspected you liked it that way. The train began to slow down again as we exited the tunnel.

I finally found you back at our seat, you had moved one row away from me. I asked you to come back, tried to hold your hands but you pulled away with vehemence. When I came back from the bathroom you had moved another row farther.
I knew I was losing you.
I begged you to return but you told me calmly that it was time for you to get off. At some point in the tunnel you had decided that you didn't want to go anymore . Your mind was made. You were going to catch another train at the next station.

When the train stopped I thought for sure you would reconsider but you didn't. Didn't even give it a thought. You just grabbed your coat and hat with one big bag under your arm. You kissed me on the cheek like a french stranger and were off. Going somewhere else on a different train. Just like that.

I rode the rails for quite some time by myself , many people getting on and getting off, passing me by. Every once in a while I would think I saw you at a station or in a **** though the window of another train. I often thought I could smell you but when I breathed deeper it was always gone. A ghost dancing on the edge of my senses.

A young girl in a headband got on the train. She was listening to headphones and dancing to herself as she bobbed along. She sat down in the seat next to me flashing a smile. She had a wedding ring on and I dismissed her immediately.  She didn't move from the seat or stop glancing my way. Eventually she confessed that she wanted to talk. I told her I wasn't interested but she persisted.  I hadn't talked to anyone on the train for quite some time and after some more mild persistence, I gave in.

We had a lot in common. We were both riding alone, desperately wanted attention and were thrilled to receive some.  After a few laughs she slid her hand in to mine and interlaced her fingers. I left it there. It was warm, comforting and wrong. She was married but I had been riding alone so long it felt good to have some company. She stayed and we talked. She was broken and I had a knack for fixing things. After a few hours of dramatic conversation I fell asleep with her head on my shoulder.

When I woke up  the train was flying up the track on the side of a mountain. Trees and rocks were a blur of green and grey. The engineer must be trying to make up for lost time I thought to myself.

The girl was asleep with her head on my lap. I looked down at her hand and the rings were gone. I woke her briefly to ask where they went. She said she didn't need them anymore and had thrown  them out the window.  She could of sold them, I said, but she said she just wanted them gone so she could be mine and fell back to sleep.  All of a sudden I couldn't breath. This train was roaring down the tracks, the once gentle click clack had become a loud hum. Suddenly too loud. This girl in my lap who had just gotten on the train wanted to stay. I considered her for a while as she looked up at me with big blue eyes, shining and wet, like a puppy in the shelter, terrified of rejection and desperate to be adopted.

At the peak of the mountain, just when the train began to even out, you waltzed back in to the car with a champagne flute in one hand and your bag in the other.

I don't know when or where you got back on, must have been a few stations ago when I stopped looking for you. Maybe you were wearing a disguise, who knows what you had been up to while you were gone. I'm not sure how long you were away but it was quite some time. That you had been through something was obvious, a new wrinkle had formed on your brow and you're once confident stride had changed to a cautious stroll. What actually happened out there I don't know.  I never asked and I don't want answers.

You looked at me and smiled. It was good to see that smile, like sun on my face on a brisk day.  You took a step toward me and then I looked down in my lap at the girl at the same time you did. I looked up. You and your smile were gone.

Everything I had begun to feel for this broken, head banded girl in my lap dried up like a puddle in  the dessert.  I quietly and gently nudged her awake and told her I had to use the bathroom. She put her head down on my coat and fell back into what ever trance she had been in, eyelids gently fluttering, eyes searching beneath them for what I would never give her.

I dashed up the isle and threw open the door, almost shattering the glass. The conductor glared at me and rolled his eyes as I barged past to the space between the cars.

There you were. Standing on the stairs with your head out the opening. The wind was blowing your perfectly formed curls around your head like a blonde explosion of familiarity. I yelled your name and you dove in to me. My senses erupted, my mind went numb as the train was nearing another station and I inhaled your essence greedily.

We moved to another car. I abandoned my coat with the married girl and never looked back. I hope she found what she was looking for. I  never could have been the answer she was so desperately seeking but I know I  helped steer her towards it.

You told me you had encountered some other people out there on the rails and they had reminded you of what we had when we first left the station. I never forgot.  

The train started to rock and get going again. We were back in the bar car and starting to brown out. We had to get off of this train right ******* now. In a desperate moment we looked at each other and put our hands, together, on the emergency brake cord. I looked in your eyes with your hand on top of mine. You kissed me while yanking down on the cord. Time slowed, the breaks squealed and everything exploded throwing luggage, people and the entire contents of the bar car in to a nondiscriminatory chaos . We got up off the ground, ran to the end of the car, dove off the side in to a soft patch of grass and rolled down a small incline. We watched as the conductor sifted through  the mess and interrogated the passengers, trying to ferret out the party responsible for pulling the brake. He spotted us off the side of the tracks and shook his fist while shouting every conceivable obscenity combination.

We laughed, held each other in the grass and kissed deeply.

We watched the train pick up speed and disappear in to the hills as relief spread over me.

You interlaced your fingers in to mine and we both looked out to where the tracks disappeared into the horizon, wondering how far of a walk it was to the next station.
Paul Butters Jan 2011
My head feels dull.
Not even “comfortably numb”.
No mood for rhyme
Yet must cast my soul
Back through time.

No.
No more rhyme.
Just cast my mind back.
Seek that spark.
Call out my Muse.
Be inspired.
Excited.
Yes.

Excitement shines
Like a billion suns.
The merest touch
Explodes
My every nerve.

Magical mysteries
Unveil themselves.
Brilliant, fluttering butterflies
Flash and flicker
Those rainbow colours and more.

Deep inspiration.
Adrenaline rush.
Electrical discharge.
Cascading sweat.

Thunder-drummed tornadoes.
Lightning storms.
Rose tinged dawns,
And silver-ghosted Moons.

Inspirational volcanoes
Of Muse-blown delight.
That’s how it was,
To be in Love.
(C) Paul Butters 2010. An attempt to show the "magic" (James Reeves) of poetry.
My smoke alarm keeps going off
Everytime it does
I feel an ounce of excitement
an excitement of my death

Ī̴̢̞̤̺̤̯̙͍́͌͆͂̆͂͒͊̅̐̈̆̏͛̔̊̀͒̈́́̿̒̃͒̾͒͐͑̀̌͒͂̐͆͂̄͑͗̉͌̈́̌̾̿̉͝͠­̧̡̧̢̭̙̝̤͔͔͕͔͓̲̥͙̮͍̮̠͓̙̼͕͖͈̹͈͜ͅ ̶̧̨̳̻̖̥̲̣̼̬͓͔̭̹͎͎̱̤̘͉̭̍͌̽̄́͛͂͑̀̿̀̀̂̈̈̑̌̓͐̏̽̎̀̐̀͗̒̈́͛́̍͋̕̚̕͜͜͜͝͝͠͝ͅ­̧̻͙̳̝̻͖̯̜w̶̧̨̢̲̻͍̱̯̣̻̺̲͕̲̄̓͒̈̈̃́̇̅̑̔̿̅͆́̈́͋̇̄͊̀͌̑̓̎͆̌̀͑̽͌͂̈͌̈̈́͜͝͝͠­̡̢̧̜̠̯̭͔͓̭͚̺̳̳̗̜̳̤̱̼͖̖͉͓̘̯̱̣i̵̛̔̒̏̌͗͋̆̅̈́̑̇̆͋̎͊͋͂̈́͋̇̈͋̿̄̂̑̇͌̀̕͘͘͠͝­̧̦̪̖̤͚̳̼̣̳̯̼̥͇͙̬̭̹̳̻̖͎̖̬̻̪̯̱͕̫̟͙̣̦̦̟̹̜̣̗̉̒͘ś̸͊͑̒̎̾̈́́̂̌́̃̆̃͑̏̄̀̕͘­̣̫̟̣̮̲͕͈͇͙̤̳̟̜̰͓͓̙̜̗̜̦̘͉͊́̀̓͒̎͋͌́͛͊͂̐̾̌̿̈́̄̔̆̓̀̈́̆̎͛̄̐̈́̑̿͊̕̚̚͜͝͠͝ͅ­̢̯ḧ̶̢̧̨̪̞̣͓̫̪̺̪͈̠̭̜̲́̅̇̓̄̀̽̅̀̏͆̔̽̇̐̀͛́̏̽̎͂̽̐̽̇̀̈́͗́̊̉̎͆̒̀̽͗͘͘̕̕͜͝͝­̨̨̣̤̮͖͎̭̬̘̼͎̦͖͖̹̱̣̦͉̻͍͓̞̼͙̲̝͜ͅ ̸̯̝̭̭͓̲̣̍͒̈́̈́̉̓͌͊͋͒̒͆̋̅͋̓̍̏̀̑͒͐̋̈́́͑̽͐͆̆̃̐̃̒̓̾̂̓̑̈́̓͐̅̄̀̔́̀̐͂̀̃̚͘̚͜͝­͍̞͉̱̼̙̰̪̲Ì̵̢̛͇̯̰̲͕̙̫͕̰̰̗͍̬̦̘̟̫̳͎̺̲̭͍͖̥͇̟̀̓̎̂̽́̌̍́̋̆̈́͑̅̒̀͐̊̄̏͘̚͝­̡̧̧̢̝͉͖̥̜̞̫͓̬̲̞͉̩ ̴̨̨̛̻̼̝̳̲͇̯̩͙͚̣̋̈́̄̀̆̅̂̄̐̒͌̂̅̔̓̇͗͋̉̎̏̔͑͐͊͛̈̈́̅͐̊̆̃͌͆̐͑̅̇̿͘̚̚͘͜͠͝͝͝͝­̨̱̮̰̠̫̺̠͕̗̠̝͉͔͔͜d̷̛̛̆̓̐̆̈́͆͊̆͋̈́̈́̔̔̑̿̍̈́̓̑̒̑̍̈́̄̈̌̎͋̌͊͂̊͆͊̈̆̓̕̚͘͝͝͠͝͠­̢̢̢̧̢̧̙̻̦̪̥̬̠͈̝͇̥͍̞͙͍̦̗̩̭͇̫̩̬̝̲̖̫̞͍͖̝̲̳̹̜̦̰̭̱̭̰̩͒̍͂̀̉̄͌͌́̒̅̄̂͗̐͠ͅ­̬̜̣͎̝i̸̧̘͕̗͉̟͉̹͈͉̩̘͉͖̲̜̘̻̤̥͍͗̀̐̋͑̃͑͜ͅͅe̸̔̋̾̑̍͗̑̆̓͑̉̏̀̆́̆͂̇̅̌̓̚̕̚͠­̧̨̩̮̩̺̭͖̬̣̤͈̜͇͍͈͎̺̣͎̥͔͇̮͈̼̗̞̤̣̮̜̣̜̝̳̪̣͔̤̩̟͈̥̥̈́͗̉̄̂͘ͅͅ ̶̧̧̢̛̛̼̳͈̮̭͇̯̻̱͕̲͕̩̠̹̦͉̺̘͇͙̪̯̬̫̥̉̓̾̓͗̇̑̇͋̐̈̆̿̓̾͌̉̄́̉͊̅̈̿́̋͘̕͘̕͝͠͠­̡̧̡͇̺͉̫̝̝̰̣̞̪̦͎̹̳̠̙
̶̾͑̃͌͐̏̌̃͌̓̚͘̚͝ͅĪ̸̡̞͖͙͉͓̫̯̺̬̱̺̏̓̾̊͆̒̂͋́͑͝͝͝ͅ­̡̩͍͔̠̮̲̤͜ ̷̛̛͖̟͇̦̬͇̩͗̀͒̀͗͆̒͐̄̏̇̍͌̔̄͌̒̇̔̆͒̑̓̽̋̊̀̔̈͘̕͘͝͝ͅw̸̒̋̐͗̏̽̉̆͌̉͊̓͒̌͋̚̕͝­̧̛̲̮̳̱̒̈́̂͋́́̇͒͂̃̒̐̓̀̏͗́͝ͅí̵̡̧̛̻̹͔̱͔͔͙̳̭̗̠͒̄́̈́͌̓̍̅̓̀̉̐̋́̂͗̏̅̎̀̕͜͠­̞ş̷̡̨̡̢͍̱̱͖̣͖̰̬͙̹͇̗̲̠̞͈̗̈́̿̈̈́̑̑̕͜͜h̵͂̌̒͐̅͑̑̍͐̀̓͛̽́̑͗̏̍̑̑̋̉́̇̚̚͘͝͝­̨̛̦̬͓̥͖̟̬̣̜̯͔̩̪̺͖͓̋̃̌̔̃̌͆̚͜ ̶̢̨̢͈̹̦͓͓͍͚̫͓̹͓͙̺̞̬̰̼̳͙̗̤͓͎̗̗̫̙̊̓̿̍̍̄̐̓̅́͛̒͗̋̃̅͑͛̉͑͂̅̌̕̚̕̚̚̕͝͝͠͝ͅ­̝Į̶̨̧͔̹͙͍̪̥͚̟̝̖̦͎̪̗̝̲̖̥̉̇̾̊̾͑͗͑͋̕̕ ̷̧̛̛̖͔̙͔̥̯̯͇̖͉͈̳̫̮̈́͗̈́̓̀͂̓̂̾͑́̈̾̒͒̍͗̒̓̊̌̂͒̾̽̐̆͌̽́͒̂̇̋̃̾͛͛͑͂̍͋͜͝͝͠ͅ­̨̡̧̝̺̥͖̱̰͍̺̭̮͎͖̤̥͈͓̪̬̮̱̣͓̱̗̜͔̫͙͈ͅg̷̳̙̲͖̻̭͓͇̩͎̝̼̘̪̜͙̬̼͔͓̮͖̭̞̤̟͈͖͜͠­̩͉ͅe̷̡̢̡̢͖̬̩̘͚̟̤̜͍̗̳̗̮̗͚͚̩̰̙̱͓͖̻̔͐̊̈́̀̅̅̒́̃̀̊̑̐̚͝͝ţ̸̠͉̖̞̦̣̼̤͗͑̄̋͝­̢̡̬̦̺͇̺̮͚̩͔̬̲͇̬͙̬̤̬̟͍̩̬̹̹͉̬̰͔̮̗̲̝̙̫̟̻̼̣̺̺̦̖̦̳̩͍͜͜ͅͅ ̵̛̞̓̿̿̌͆̍̎̎͂͒̈́͑̀̑̇̄͂͋͋̏̅̈́̂̿̒̃̄̓̌̈͛̾͆̅͆̈́̈͊͗̇̍̈́̃̾̈́̔͒̋͆́̂́̄̇͘͘̕̚̚͠͝͝­̨̡̧̦͈̼̮͔͔̜̱̗̞̤̣̭̗̟͔̼̱͚̦͎̖̳͎̤̞̰̘̣͇̻͓̗̗̯̤̟̖͉̣̬̤̝̪͔̖d̷̂̅͑̈́̿́̔̾̅̾͊̈́̍͠­̢̡̢̢͇͇̮̲̥͓͎͔̙̖͕̦̼̯̜͕̜̘̙̙̼͍̪̖̜͎̞̮̣̮͖͎͒͑̈́̿̈́̈́̒͛̀̂̈́͌̓͝e̸͛͋̈́̏͛̎̌̄̑̏͘̕͝­̨̡̢̢̢̡̪̰͇̪͎̫͈̰͇͎͇̳̮̞̩̙̘̤̞̞̺̟̭͍̭͚̱̺̗̺̹̱̞͌̋́̐̑̐̈͆̽̎̈̎̾̓̓̈́̌̀͐́͂͌̓̐́̕­̧̧̨̱̗̙̩̹̫̳̻͚̫̤̣͔̹̳̬̖̮̝͇a̸̛̾̌͆̀̓̽̇̈́͆̈̍́͌͂̋̂͛̎̂̏͛͋̍̾͋̉́̐̍̓͐͂̋͘͠͝͠͝͠­̛̠͎̥̲͕͚̜̻̖̹̹̰̹͓́͑̐̐͑̿͘t̵͊̉̆̑̊̈́̍́̔̓͋̿̆͌̃̊̈́̈́̂̅̋͛̒̈́̂͆̋́̇̋͗̌͛͘̕̚̚̕͝͝͠­̢̧̡̧̧̨̱̘̤̦̲̥̖̟̰̥̲̭̩̫̯͇͕̘͎͇͔͙̥͚̥̘̦̲̱̯̹̥͔̭̖̯̗͉͆͊́̃́̀̔̓̏̽̄̈́̈́̍̓̓̚̚͜ͅͅ­͉̘͕̲̖͖ḩ̶̢̟͉̼͕̯̙͔̩̻͉͚̥͉͖͕̭͌̂̃̽͛͋͒̀̃̄̓̿͊́̉͛͌̑̉̿̉̆̒̐̊̂̂̎͘͘̕̚͘͝͠ ̴̧̧̛̦̠̩̙̣͙͎̩̯̭̫͍̣̩̣̩̯͓̳͑̒͐́́̏̅̍͆̆̈́̅̕͜͠ͅa̷̛̔̀͌͗̂̓͆͂̊̀̾̑̋̄͋̀́͂͂͑̈̚͝­̜̝̜̘̥̟̯̝̻͈̱̟̬̙͇̙̗̭͕́̐̐̍̈́ț̷̡̮͙̘̮̘͊̂́́͊̿͗̊̒̾̆̾̔͊̔̓͝ ̷̧̧̛͇͕̱̲̱̦̩͎͖͓̞̘̘̇̈̅̎̐̽͛͒̒̀̌͛̐̇̾͌̓̑̑̅͛̒͑̀̔͂̽̇̈́̔̈́͆̿̄̒̇̀͑̾͛̎͂̿̕͘͝͝͠­̧̦̙̺̱̯̯̤͉̭̩̞͙̘̫̗̺͍̩͖̥̳̪͚̙͉͜ṭ̶̛͗̉̇͑̋̀̈́̈́̓̂̏̈́͗̆̀̀̃͝͝h̵͂́͊̔̾̑̂͛̌͘͘̕͠­̡̥̺̦̤̥͚͈̠̠͙̱͚͚̼̠͖͌͆̐͌̃̌͛̽̆͊͋̑́̋͑͆̊̉̏̕͝͝e̴̛͖͈̹͚̼̭̘̋́̓̓̔̎͌͑̈́̔̓̌̈́̎̚̚­̡̡̢̧̧̧̩͓̖̫̫̻̖͖͉̘͚̹̜̗̼̻̘̗͉̳̺̩̯̠̠̪͓̘͉͈̱͎͇̤̹̱̼̹͓̞̖̝̞̮ͅ ̵̛̦͓͖̞̭̩̱̗̘̺͕̟̬͉̫͈̺̠͋̾̏̈́͆̄̌̏̔͑͊͌̎̾̈́͋͆͗̆̌̅̀͘͘͝͠͝ͅm̶̑̊͒̾̂̋̑̌̎̒̕͘̚͝͠­̧̺̪͈̬̰̲̰̼͚̥͕͍̻͓̣̺̼̗̬̥̥̻̰͉̮̲̏̋͗̈͋͆̀͒̓͊̄̋̍̎̑̒̎̋̊̉̀́̓̚̚͜͝͝ͅơ̵͖̳̻͓͆ͅ­͚m̷̧̧̢̝̠͖̙͕͇̝̟̺͓̝̻̼͈͙͇̗̣̥̏̾̿̐́́̽̈̋̆̆͜ę̶̢̧̤̭̪̱͎͓̘̹͚̬͕͙̫̳̥̥̘̯̪͑̋͘ͅ­n̶̄͌̎͋̈̒̓̒͛̒́̑̈͊͐͗̉́̾̿̈́̔̑̊͐͌̃́̔́̌̌̒͆̄̎̑̌͂̄͐̈̏̇̊͛̅̿̓͐̈́̿͘̕͝͝͝͠͠͠͝͝͠­̢͈̟̘̞̜̼̺̬͓̦̺͍̻̝̰̳͚̞̩͖̜̮̖͗͜ţ̸̧̧̡̮͔̲͕̩̜̹̹͓̤̲̬͖̝̮̥͎̘̻̣̞̭̠̱̩̦͔̫̤̮̭̎̚­̡̦̗̗͈̮̤̥̜͖.̶̧͚̤͇̲̳̻̮̯̣̫̹̝͇̥͖̰͓̫͙̮͓͆̓͋̓́̃̈́͌̑̓̄͑͗̄͑̀̓̄͊̕̕̕͘͘͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅ­̢̢̜͚͈̬̜͔̼̹̘̰͎͕̯͇̟̫̯͍̦̲͉̰̫̻̺̗̱͎̩̱̭͎̯ͅ
̴͐͒̀̃̋̂̔̀̎͗͐̌̓̂̅̈́̿̈́͂̈͑̊̓͗̚͝͠­̨̧̧̨̡͍̼̠̻̦̰̳̜͉̭̩̗͔̪͍̬̞͕̪͈̬͎̞̞̞̗͚͚͔͈̺͚͕͇̹͉̼͕̲̓̽̎̈́̀̒̇̆̾́̇̈́͐͛͑̽̾̓̕͝ͅ­̡̡̝̮͓̱̝̥̤̻͚̘͜ͅÅ̶͓̼̲̠̺̳̥͉̥̞̗̞͚̟͉̘̩̹̳̣̙̗̰͚͉̖̺̺̬͔͓͔͓̜̮̣͖̗̓̅̊͘͜͝ͅn̴̔­̢̛̛̠͖̘̔̎͗̅͒̉̔̅̋̀̔̑̾̌͌̊̈́͊̂̊̑̔̒̅̎́̂̇͐̂͒̾̌̉̍͌͌̈́̄̿̌̔̀͑̀̊̆̀̀̈́̃̚̕͘̚̕͠͝͠­̡̧̻͇͓̦͔̝̲͔͖͎̥̟̼̱̜͔̲̯͎̞̜̭̦̻̹̥̝̬͈͎̤̝̘̳̣̰̭̺̗̺͓̳̥̲͎͚d̶̃̓̄̎́̓̊̐̐͗̈́̅̃̌̔­̧̡̧̢̨̖̻̺̫̫̖͔̩̭̪̞̲͎̲̤̮̫͙̫̝̗̪̞̣͔̳̬̫͇̒͆͌̌́̇̾̎͊̒̈́̕͜͜͝ͅ ̵̧̠̲̫͔͍̜̟͍̟̼̹͔̫͑̓̂̀̔̽͌͝͠ͅͅḩ̷͉̩̐͐̐̀͑̊̽̂͆͋͘ȅ̶̢͙̳͈͈͈͊͋̈́̍͋̀̒̀̐́̏̕̚͠­̨̡̯̭͇̹̲̙̞͕͉͍͇̱̩̤̙̗̱̠̳̟̪̹̲̠͜r̶͓̘͙̯͗̈́̃̉͆̓́̄̄͛̀̒̄̽͌́̾̇͛̍̎̃͛̊̕͘̚͝͠͠͠͠­̼̞̪̟̙͚̝͓͖̫̮͎͙̳̬ͅě̴̡̛̺̗̬͍̖͎͇̣̯̯͇̣͓͔̤̼̯̈́̊̅̽̽͑̒͆̇͌͂̇̾͒̋̎̊́̀̄͊͂̕͘͜͝ͅ­̡̢͚͔̱͖͖̻̖̤̝̜̣̻̥͕̣̬ ̴̡̛̥͍͕͙̹̾̍́̇̆̄́́̔̀͛̈́͐̉̏̎̐̑͑̑̒̓̉̉͋̋͐̉̈̌̾͊͒͆͌̓̄͂̄̚̚̕͘̚͠͠Ì̵͐̈́̇͋̂̆̕͘­̹̩̭̬̼̮̠̼̗̗̯̼̞̃͊́́̾̽̂̈͐̆̐̃̄͑̄̋̏̋͛̊͘̚ ̷̨̛̞̟͙́͋͌̓͑͑́ą̶̀̌͂̔̉̃̾̈́͊͂̇͆̍̑̽̄̈́͂̎̌͌̂̾͆͑̂̅̽̔͗̄̐́̃͂͊̒̑̉̒͊̒̚̕̕͘͝͝͝­̧͈̤̙̪͕̗m̶̛̺̼͚͓̬̭͈̖͙̞̹͈̍͆͛̌͐̈́̑̒̏̓̎̉̊̔̔͊͌̆͒̈́̊̋͆͌̌̐̅̓́͑͗͐̑̈͂͌͆̌̄̋͘͝͠­̧̣̝̳͍͖̱ ̴̡̞̳̤̻͚͛͆̽̾̈́̄͂̈́̿̃̂͛̀̈́̀̓̈́̄̉͆͌̔̈́̇̒̊͊̎̓̔̆́͐͑̓̾͐̃̈́̈́̀̈́̇̄̔͑̾͋͒́̏̈́̐̀͘̚͝͝­̡̢͓̯͔̟̣̼̘͖̙̠̹̘̦̝̱̻̦͈̯̹̟̲̩ͅ
̶̽͂̐͌̓́͐̔̇͋̏͊̎͒̍̾̈́̅̍͂̀̇̿̈́͐́̍́͆̋̕̚̕͝͝͠͝­̨̡̨̡̧̛̜͚̫̲̱̳͓̼̪̳̥͓̝̙̯̘̤͚͈̘͓̳̮̺̬̞͇̟̣̖̲̩̯̞̠͕͕̤̭̭̔̆͒̆̈́͛̐͊͊͗͆͊͜͜͜͝͝ͅͅ­̨̢͇͕̭͎̝̺̙̬̬̱̙̪̙Ḋ̵̨̢̛̼͎̞̹̪̺͎͇̟̺̣̗̣̠̦̈́͂̀͐͋́͒̔́̈́̽̑̈́̎̉͂̑̒́̑̆̐͗͌̒̚̕̕͝­̡̡̫͈̣̳̬̘̗͎͈͈͖̝̘̬̙̟͉̖̠̥̘̳͈̮̺̲̹͎̲͎̮̥͍̗͜ͅŷ̷͑̄̓̈͊̋̾̈́̒͊̔̉̏̓̍̈́̏̽̉̽̒͝͝͝­̢̧̣̗̳̺̩͚̖͍̫̰͎͉̣̦̹̰̭̟̦̗̱̱̪̹͎͚͇̟̼͕̟̇͐͐̌͋̓̈́̋̄̊̓͐͆͛͊̑̂̒̂́̈́̓̔̚͠͠͝͠͝͠͝ͅ­̨̡̢̧̖̱͉̺̪̙̹͙̙͕͍̫͍̭̖̣̮͉̭͜i̴͊̽̅͌̓̀̉̾̎̿̓̈̇̇̃̎̋̎̓̓̋͗̀̉̌̌͛́̀̈́̇̽̉͆͐͘̚͝͝­̢̨͖̫̞̟̩̳̻̖̬̬̤̪͕͍̣͔̱̗̮̲͙͔͖̳̭̖̙̜͇̅̓̃͗̊̒̈́͒̈́̃̔͋ͅͅn̷̽̅̽̅̌́̓̈́̈́̇̐͆̀͊͊͘̕̕­̨̨̛̦͎͕͉̳͈̫͈̪̙̝̟̱̣̲̭̤̝̬̱͉͎͇̱̳̳̯͈͍̍̋̌̍̑͗͆̉̇̎̀̄͑́̅̌̈́́̿̊͆̆͆͗̍̃̽̈́͘͘̕͠͠­̨̼̺̺̮̬̭̟̲̙̝̠͈͇̩͕̮̺̱g̶̢̧̝͈̦̪̙̘̰̤͖͍̝̘͉̺͔͉͉̦͎̼̣͕͈̣̥̞̘͚̠͈̝̜̳̍̋̌́̃́̎̎̂­̧̨̧͕̤̘̻̬̳̻̹̪̰̬̜̳̠̼͜
̶̧̦̘̩̑̒̉̀̐̎̀̀̂̒͌͑͌͋͗̓́̄̉͑͐̐̆́͋̔͊̓̀̏̑̈̀͘͘͘͘̚͝͠­̡̧̟̘̲̬̟̙͈̗̩̯͇̰̰̯̩̳̬̘̺̝͖̲̰̰̟͈̭̬̩̼̟͓̙̺̦͖͎̳̳̥̼̤͉͔̫̤͎͉̹͈͈̮ͅS̵̛͋͐̆́̽̐̚­̨̨̛͇̠̙͕͍̳͚̯͍͇̱͖̦͖̯͖̹̬̗̟̩͔̭̼̟̯̥͈̗̰̻̜̭̂̈́̈́̈́́̔̿͛̋̅̉̆̏̒̋͆͂͊̈́̅̎͛̃̈̾̀̌̐͝­̭̣͎̝̮l̵̢̢̨͉̞̥͕̪̱̼̘̙͈̠͍͕̟̰̻̞̩̲̬͖̳̺̝̮̰̪͈̰̱̩͚̇̊̀̈́̃̆͌̂́͂̒̒͑̏͗̉̇̔̃̌̔̕͝­̨̱̦̹̜̟͚̳̙̳ò̵̥̰͉̗̼̯͈̌͒͂͊͒̈̊͌͆͛̾̊̓͑́̐͝͝͝w̷̢̡̲̺̠̤͓̫̭̥̜̖͔͎͎̜͕͆͂̋̕ľ̸­̨̨̛͓̹̳̯̥̯͈̗̩͎̱̮̺̜͎͉͚͍̖̜̩̥̯̱̮̟̟̙̫͔̘͔̩̝̀͊̈́́̊̐͌̄̽̐̄͐̈́͂͒̈́̒͂͂̆̀̊̀̀̄̚͜͝­̨͔̮͍͍̗̘̩̗̠̘̲͓̘̝͙͜y̶̡̠͎̻̩͓̝̰̤̞͇͎̤̳̼̳̗͖̮̱͔̺̜̦̭͙͉͓̳̒͑̍͛͋̽̂̅͘͘͜͜͝ͅ
̵̿­̧̛͇̘͉̥̩̻̠̰̠͕̱̺͚̞̩̪̩̭̹̪̮̽̀̈́́̎̆̔̏͊̾̿͋̾͐̽͒́̓̍̓̈́̽́̀̊̿̍́̏͋͂̌͘̚͘̚͜͜͠͝͠͝­̡̡̡̡̝͚̳͓̜̗͙̬̖̗̙͕̯̜̦͈̯͍͈͖̞̹̗̳͉̞͜I̵̛̛̛̅͊̅̑̾̀̉̍̈̿̉̓̎̈́̽̈́̈́͊̂͗̀͗̕̕̕͘͝͝͠­̡̨̨̧̨̨̨̧̡̫̻̪̥̯͓̮̟̤̯̮̺̪̠̻͔͙̰̘̜̖̹̞͚̝̤̟̙̲̟̳͖̰̯̲̖̦̭̟͉̲̼̥͑͗̆͒́̆͘͜͜͜ͅͅͅ­̨̹̪̬͕'̵̳̪͕̫͇̦͂̒̀̈́̓̐̎̀̄̆̊̃̚͠m̷̨̡̨̨̩̥͖̪̩̫͎͕̲̭̺̙̲͍̼̰̻͖͍̖̦̈́̔͐͑̇́̎̏̽͠­̨̼̜̟͔̗̩̬̰̪̯̜̠͎͎̻̬͜ͅͅ ̵̡̛̥͙̮̤͉̬̭͉̇͐̓͒͑͂̈́͗͊̐̓̀̾͊̾̈̽̈̋̐̋̊͌͌̀̀͛̈́̏̎̃͘͘̚͠͠s̵͋̇͌̈́́̈͐͋̇̏͐̇̆̕͘͘­̧͚̮̟̭̳̬̲͔̖̼͓̖̳̰̮͖͎͍̥̺͙̗̪̲̼̹̪̭̫͓̪̭͖̉̌͊̃̑̐̑̅́̃͆͋̄̀̀͂́̎̽͋̌́̍̂̏̚͝͝͝ͅͅ­̡̡͚̞̖̻̟͓̜̣̯̫͙͚e̵̡͉̪̳̮̯̯̺̭͙͍̠͈̭̹͛è̵͔̦̼͉͓̦̮̺̲̮̯̻̦̤͎͖̤̣̣̹̘̩͓͚͒̓̊̂͜͝­̢̣͕̫̠̣̼̙̥͚͓͇͉̬̘̙̲̞̼͔̱̺͔̭͜ͅȋ̶̛̛̃͑͊͒̋̇̒̂̍̃̓̎͋́̃̊͛̄͋͋̐̍͑̓́͋̍̉̄͗̍̀̓̒­̖̤̣͍̖̙̬͚̗̜̹͙̓͗̎͠ñ̵̛͋͌͂̒̈́͌͆͗̽́̏̓̎̒̈͛̈́̃͒͂̍̈͋̉̇̒̓͛̋̓̿͊̓͗͑̾͌͑͒͑̚̚͘̚͝­̧͖̻̤͚g̵̡̢͚̠͎͈͔̺͕̣̯̬̾͌̈́̈́͌̋̉́̔̊̓̈́̉̆͋͊͛̿̄̈̑̆́̅̿̔̒̌͊́̉̄̔̍̾͘͘̚̚͠ ̷̧̧̢̡̠̮̟̺̝̱̱̻͚͓̭͍̹̰̖̙̘̤̙̳̙͖̞͍̼͈̣͌̿̀͋̎͒̐̇̍̎̒̌̽͠͝t̸́̑̄͐̈́̀̔̽̅̈́̎̎́͂͂́­̨̡̧̡̡̛͙͉̙̝̼̳͈̪͓̤̠̘͍̪͇̥͚͍̩̣͔̟̩̻̤͚̤͍͖̗͓̥͇̦̺͖͛́̀̒̋̾̃̎͊̾̑͋̌͆̒̈̆̄͜͝͝ͅͅ­̢͙͖̻̟̟̼̰̘̰̣͍̤̣͖̮̻̹͉̩ͅh̴̛̛͌̐̓̋̈́̑̌̀͛̆͗͒͒̄̋͑͋̉́̾̎̎̑̎̌̆͒͐̀́̈́͘̚͘̕̕͘͠͝͠­̨̧̢̛̭̤̭͍͔̞̪̯̤̘̥͓͇̤̫̝͉͇̰̮̺̳̥̞̝͔̬̣̘̣̱̙̟̰̼̲͖̫̈̈́̃͐̍̓̓͂̽̄̃̿̽̏͊͂̿͘͘͜͜͠ͅ­̢̥̣̖͉̜̙̖̮̙̲͉̪̼̗͔̮̟̺̼̻͙e̷̡͍͚̲̙͇̪̪̝̹͎͚͔̤̳̱̣̰̩͖̳̮̠̱̣͖̣̲̦̿͑̽̈̑̽͐̎̓́͜͜­̜̰̞̼̗̩̩̮̮̲̦̮̭̜̗͔̙̥̯̥̻̣̪̗̗̠ ̴̛̛̖̙͈̮̯͍̲̬̺̿͗͑̉̅͌̊͒̇́̌̈́̄̈̆͐̏͐́̃̎̅̅̇̓̂̈̅͑͒̈́͊̊̇̅́͑̓̌̂̉̈́̒̑̈͑́͘̕͘̕͜͝­̡̤̝̤͖̥̖͔̖ͅa̴̧̨̫͙͎̼̩̦̦̫͉̯̤͎̱͛̈́́͝͝n̵̛̐̒́̇͛͂̇͂̑̊̂̏̉̉̈́̀̔̑̃̋̊̒͘͘̕͘͘͝͝͠­̢̡̡̡̡̪͈̥̱͎̻͓͕̰̤͕͕̳̲̫͎͔͉̳̳̱͚̳̘̞̫̫̩̝͍͋̋̽͛͊̈͊̌̇̚̚͜͝ͅg̶͆̆̄̒̓̊̎̏̌̈́̕̚̕͝­̛̘̹̈́͂̒̈͌̿͒̅́͗͑̿̾̄̾̈͆̾̿́̀̈́̍͒̀͂̾̐͂̐̈͊̂̐̑͐̀͘͝͠͠è̵̘͕̺͙͕̰̝̳̹̀̇̋͋̓̅́̀̚­̧̢̢̧̢̧̢̟̯͍̫̟̠̗̼͕̤̟̤͔̻̺̤̙̻̩̠̠͈͔̯͉̣͔̩͓̘͈̺͉͍̙̹̪̼̬͉̙͜l̷̬͙̱̞̼͈͓͇̙̖̄̄̈͘­̧̧̫̫̥̣̱̜͉̝̠̗̻̩̘͓̗̣͕͙̙̘͜ͅ ̶̡̨̛̙͖͙̺̰̱͚͍͚͈̦̰̟̠̤̖͔̗̩̝̻̩̑̽̽̓̐̄͗͌̌̎̐̃͆́͛́̆̌͛̓͒́̊̍̏̇̓̕̚̕͜͝͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅ­̱͉͍̺͎͔̪͓̗̩̠͙̗̪̣̝̺̪͜c̴̺̘̤̳͍͈͇̮̳̰͙̲̩͍̟̜̩͇̪̥̼̣̫̬̤̼͐̊̉̈́̈́͛͌͒̓̂͑́͗͌̌͘͘ͅ­̡̢̡͈̲͇̺̦͈̳̮̺̰͔̬̩̮̪̪͕̲̣̲̟̞̤̻̮̠̜̬͜ͅͅͅơ̵̧̢͕͚͕̪̪̠̭̱̭̱̿͛͑̒̀̃͛̇͛̏̔͒̈́̿̑­̨̨̧̡͍͓̗͇̲̼̦͕̻̹̲̻̻̯̘͍̗͓͕̼̘͉̖͚̺̱̲̟̞ͅm̸̛͐͆͂̃̾̒͐́̆́̈́́̄̍̀̀̇̏̓͌̀̒̉̕̕͠͝͝­̢̡̧̦̹̦̗̺̻̦̲̖͈̖͔̝̖̟͙̝̮̬̺͉̣̅̿̊̔̈́̈́̌͛̽̽͗͌̏̇̈́͛̍̅̍̀̄͋͊̾̒̔̽̓͐̑̈́̐̽̆̏̚͜͝͝ͅ­í̸̢̧̭̝̘̞̻̻̤͕͕͖̜̺̘̬̱̥͎̳͍̙̺̇̒͂́̑̿̌͋̈́̌̈̃͒́͆͒̅͗̎̈́͗̈́̽̋̈́̉͊̉̾̂̚͘͝n̵̓̈͝͠­̧̧̧̺͙̞̼̬̜̞̝̼̦̪̘̉̓̿̋̅̌͐̑͌̋̓̄̄͛̅͗̍̓̌̀͑̽͛͐͐͐͌͂̈́̀̾͐͆̈́́̓̒̍̌̓̈́̿̌͆͆͐͑͘͠͝­̬̣͙͍͎g̴̨̡̳̯̬̳̩̰̟̗͖̺̣͍͈̏͂̐͆̓̒̄͂̂̊̔
̸̛̌́̓̅̈̿̇̀̊̈̃̉͐́͐̓̏͆̈̔͌̈́̇̑̕̚͝͝͝­̨̛͓̞̭͇̗̱̫̭̭̺͍̪̣̟͉̺̗̫̲͚̯̥̬̦͇̭̥͚̱͕͗̈́͐̃̅̈́̎̅̀͊͋͒͐̇͂̉̽̑̎̄̃͋̿̎̿͑͑͘̚͜͝͠ͅ­̡̲̠͓̜̼͉̜̺͔̩̬W̸̛̛͛͗͗̇̄̽̃̓̈̉͛͊̂͑̀̀̐͆̄̀̇̎̆̏̍̈́̂̊̈́̀́̔͊͒͐̀̇̏̃̊͛̚͘͘̚͘͝͝͠­̢̡̢̧̫̠̫̱̤̲̮͇͎̹͓̱͇͓̱̤̭̠͉͖̱̝̗̜̼͓͇͈̱̱̲̩͉̠̣̼̩̱̭̳̩͕̞̱͖̳͉̝̪͔̮̻̑͒̈́́͜͜ͅͅi­̴̢̡̛͇͕̱̗͙͍̘̬̳̗̤̂̃͗̈͛̈́͐̾͑̓̀̇͑̀̇̒͋̌́̌̒͒̌͌͒̂̀̊̆̓̾͐͛͗̓̽̽͌̒̽̿̚̚̕͘̕̚͘͜͝­̨̨̢͈̲̝̼ṱ̷̮͙̙͎̭̗̙͓͇̺̯̲̰̣̫͕̩̝̙̼͖̞͎̜̩͇͔͓̤̮̬̟͓̔̅̀̌͐̋́̒̎̔̋̊̂͊̀̃̀̈́̾͜h̸­̨̧̛̟͈̠̦͖̻̲͉̦̦̝͍̘͉̯̳̃̄̿̅̈́̀̃̅̂̌̄̋̈́̀͐̑̔͘͝͝ ̸̢̧̡̢̧̧̡̯͎̗̼̯̩̜̱̻̫͍̥̙̺̜̩͈̳̬͚̩̠̦̺̣̠̩͔̣͕̼͈̩̖̟̼͈̳̹̗̙̳̜͍̻̤̹̬͑̾̂̅̒̚͜͜͝­̝̣̜͙l̸̨̨̧̡̧̺͙̜̳̹̗̳̞̝̺̮̪̮̞̲͖͔͚̙̯̞͙̣̙͎͚̹̩̆͐͗̆̎͆̎̚̚͜͜a̵̅̊̈̆́̌̌͂̆͛͊̏͒­̧̝̼̭͕̼̠̤̙̰̳̣̣̮̜̞͇̔͋̅͒̾̄̈́̓̑̍̈̾̐͐̀́͒́͗̾͑͌̊̍̏̚͘͝͝͝͝͝r̴̛͆̓́͒͛̈́͐̃͗͌̕͝͝­̢̛̟̰̘͇̼̮͈̝͙̘̰̟̪͂̋͋̂̔̽̊̐͆̏̈̈́́̇̑͒̐͗͆̈̈́̌́́̀̈́͑̓̄̍̍̐̾̋͗͂̿͛̀͋̉̐̓̈́̕̚͠͝͠ͅ­͔̬͈̯̯ģ̷̧̡̧̨̛̮͔̞͕̦̞̬̺͉̦̻̱̼̗͇̝̬̝̼̜̺͇̦̭͓̝͎̝̇̃̄̈͐̈́̿̒̌͂̀̾̀̊̌͛̔͜͠͝͝͝ͅͅ­̨͙̞͙͎̙͚̙̯̪̪͕͓̝͍̙̤͍̳̦̭ë̴̀̀́́̿̅͆̈́̏̾͐͆̑̊̽͆͊̀͗̓̆̎̒͗̈́̒̋͐͋̒̅̆̅̇͑̆̕̕͠͠͝­̡̮̩̝̟̦̩̻̜͎͓̞͚̺̟̠̬͖͙͒̒̋͆͊̽̓͑͐̓͋̉̈́̈́͘ͅ ̶̡̨̛̙̮̩̤̮̤͔͈̪̣̞̹̦̜̥̱̻̫̘͍̘͇̻̫̪͈̯͔̹̯̝̪͎̇̈́̈́̏́̎̑͒̿̓̓̑̆̔̿̂͐̓̈́̒̆͜͜͝͝͝͠w­̵̢̢̧̨͓̹̲̫͎̯͇̗̖̞̝̲̪͉̼͖̪͙̲̺̤͕͔̙͇̪̱̯̮̥͔̼̠͈̫̠̙͙͕̰̻̘͉̪͈̽̀̋͊̋̎͂̄̎̈̃͊̐͝͝­̢̡̖̹̪̫͖̖̬̣̬̯͓͜í̶̛̓̓͌͆̉͐͌͋̊̅͋̾̆͒̒́̉̽̋̉̾̽̒̄̑̿̐͑͆̉̈̅͛́̈́̂͊̈́̕͘͘̕͘͝͝͠͝­̢̢͎̩͖̭̞̤̹̺͎͍͇͇̯̰͙̝̫̫͖̭̣͗̔̓̀̒͗̍͒̔̆̊͑͋̍̊̍́͘n̶̛̯̬͔̱͖͖͍͎̮͎͓̟̻̼͈̥̍́̎̚ͅ­̧̧̢̢̬̥̮̖̺̹̼͈͕̰̞̬̲̘͙̪̪̖̪͓̟̣̼̦̼̠̹̼̙̺͓̼͚̻͔͇ͅf̶̛̓͂̏͛͐̆͂̋͒̇́̎͛͋͐̒̽̽̈́̕͝­̨̢̨͈̞͙̝̣̖̬͚̤̝̬̱̫̳̤͕͕̭͈̲̗̝̹̝͔͚͇̣̪͖̺͉̙̙̪̓́̾s̴̛͕̥̗͋̀͆͌́͗̏̌̈͐̓̇̈́̏̚͠
̴­̛̛͙̀͒̽̓̓̾͌̐̏̽̐̅͐̀̅̉̑̓̃͊͊͐̌̍͆̈́̔̐̏́̿̉̓̐͛͛͗̐̍̐̿͛̔̋̽̍̈́̓̄͒̀̈̿̓̐̂̆͘̕͝͠͝­̨̧̢̬̘̥͍̮̺̯̻̟W̸̛̆̓͌̍̔̓̈́͑̽͌̎͆̈́̅̂̓̄̍̓̽̐͊́̊̏̐̾̇͑͆̃̂͂͂̔͋̽̓̄̈́͛́̕̕̚͘͘̕͠͠­̨̧̨̡̢̡͕̳̝̲̜͉̪͖̪̗̹̻͈̬̩̠̦͓̰̻̞̦̯̫̞̺̭͙̭̰͓̜̘̩̺̱̣͕̩̘̯̤̺̙̥̺̩̎́̂̓̆h̴͑̒̑̎͝­̧̨̛̰̱͇͖͚̥͓͗͂́͆̍̂̃̆͋͗̄͊͐̋̐̀̔̂̇̏͋̿͂̒̋͐̅̄̏̾́̀͛̈́͆̇͆̇͌̔͛̆̒̈̐̕̕̚̕͜͝͠͠͝͝­̧̢̢̢̨̢̡̨̡̨̩̩̥̖̙̮̪̼͇̥͙͉͙͈͓͍͓͔͚͈̥̟̱̙͖͎̙̪̙̱̮͈͇̼̳̻̺͇͜ͅe̶͎̮̮̭̭̘̘̼̠̞̲̥̎­̡̨̨̢̻̫̳̟͖̙̦͕̜͇͖̳̭t̶̡̛̪͉̭̙̗̣͕̪͓͍̋̿̓̎̔̄̑̏̽̓̆̌̎̔̇͗͐̋̄͌́̀̈́̊͒̋̎̔̉͂͘͜͜͠­̢̭̩̭ḩ̴̛̳̘͓̱̼̝͎̟̟̮͉̱͔̜͉̙̓̽̍̈́́̈́́̒͐͋͗̌̔̐̈̃̂͐̍̅͛̇́͛̏͋͊̅̓͂͐̋̚͘͘͝͝͝͠͝͝­̧̣̺͇̻̘̱̜͙͔̟̰̪̪͍̪͎̼̦͍̝̭̖̭̫͜ͅê̵̌̒̾͂͗̃̇͛̇͛̎̈́̅͑̂̇̅̍̾̀́͑̉̑͑̿̆̀̕͘̕͘͝͝͝­̛͈͎͙̦̦̣̳̙̟̺͓͚͇͇̑̉̐͗̾͐͒̉̓̇̆̚͝r̷̛̐̈́́̅͋̏̾͌̋̄̉̃̽͑͛͂̂̋͋̇̓̑̑̈̊͂̀̀̂͌̓̚͠͝­̨̢̡̧̛̖̭͙͎͖̯̦̙̘̭͉̱̭̺͉̘̤͕̻͓͇̪̰̱͚̲̩̳͓̩̘̱͈̘̞͓̤̥̞̲̖͐͆̐͒̿͗̔͒̀̈̉͘͜͝ͅͅ ̴̨̛̛̫̜̬͇̤̔̂͑͊͐̔̐̈̋̇̆́̊͐̌̀̿͛̈́̓̿̎́̅̐͗̏̓̚͘͘͠͝͠i̷̛͐̌͑͋̑̐̆͑̓̒̋̂͑͒͆͛͘̚͠­̧̧̡̨͎̖̖͖͈͎̦̩̪̤̤͍̱̗̳͙̤̫̙̲̖̺͖̟̟͎̠͍̣̙̹͖̬͔̻̤̥͈̬͉͙͈͔͚͓̅̔̀́̃͊̀̈́́̐̀̈͌͘͠͠­̞̹̭̼̟̫͙̩t̴̛͋̉̽̍̀̒̍̇͊̊̀́̎̀̏́̎͒͊̒̓͋̂̋͑̽͊̉͗̈͐͗̏̀͒̽͛̅̔͂̏̈́̋̋̌͘̕͘͘̚͘̚͠͝­̜̻͕̬̠͇̳̼̜̱̦̠ͅ ̵̧̡̡̣̗͚̬̭̟̜̱͕̟̭̯͓̤̠̯̠̣̥̠̘̥̰̮͉̤̟̹́̒̐́̐̎̉̊͒̿͛̾͐̆̏̃̈́͐̈́̌̈́̊͒̚͘͜͝͝͠ẅ̸́͘­̧̡̠̣̩̳̬̠̟͎͍̯̟̈́̈́͆͆̈͐̒̀͌̊͐̈́̋̽̂́͂̇͑͛̕͝i̶̛̾̑͐̈̒́̍̌͑̐̃̍͂̐̒̂̈́̿̃̂͆̌̎̀̊͗͝­̨̥̺̗̣͍̫̫͇̖̗̫͓͚̭̤͕̣̠̱̣̃̈́̔̿͗̀̓̍͐͋̆͐͒͒l̷͙͆̎̀̌́̏̈͂́̽̔̽̓͆͗̃͂̎͋͌̇̈́̚̕̕͝­̡̨̧̡̧͇̺̳̩͖̩͇͖̻̜̫̹̺̗̱̝͚̣͖ļ̴͓̰͕̖͇̝͇̙̤̲̩̈́̆́̈͒̌͋͝ ̸̯̤͍̎̍͌͗b̶̨̘̖̱̺͇̫̪̬͕̝͈̪̟̮̺̟͎̪̜̺̫̟͈͕̭͚̣̘̬̼̮̭͉͈͉̥͕̮̯̩̝͕̱̟̑ͅè̵͐͐̔͑͝­̢͎̳͕̬̪͚͚̬̠͇̺̘̺͕̰̜̭̩̹͆͋͒̊͑͑̃̆͋̀̂̽̿̓̿̏͛̀̒͗̔̉̿́̌̐͆̐̎͌͋͗̉̈́̀́͘͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͠­͓̻ ̵̡̨̧̨̛̛̛̛̦̰̫̱͍̦̳̻̱̝͓͈̦̝͂́̑́͋̐͑̎̆͐͛̾̋̏̌̇̉́́̐̕͜͠͝͠H̷͋̅͂̂̎̅̃̓͗͒̔̕̕͘͝­̨̢̧̢̨̤̲͉͕͖͚͎̩̤̥̻̹̭̼̘̻̫̰̙͖͔͕͍̬̹̼̻̳̗̣͈̲̻̬̰̥͂̒͑̌̄̓̀̍̓́̆̈́́͗̓͑̊͛͑͐͘͘͜e­̴̡̡̢̛͔͎̟̘̞͕͉͈͕͚͕̜̮͕̭̰̳̠̲͎̗͓̗̣̟͇̫̬̠̥̘͓̣͔̜͔̤̘̞͍̘̌̉̽̍͜͝ͅl̷͛̓̑͛͑̍̂͘͘͠­̢̟͖̤͕͓̝̦͍͉̠̘̫͖̤̣͖͊̆̍̓̎̌̾̎͗̈́̅̆̐̉̔̌̓͑̓̋͂̈́̆̾͊̈́̇̓̐̉̅͐̃͂͊̓́̓̇̎̀̈̆̚̕͝͝͝­̡̨̡̢̱̯̰̩̝̦̹̗͉̦͕̗̞̭̹͚̠̝̬̟̺̱͉̖̹̜͕̗̫ļ̵̧̬̻̦͓̝͙͍̩͈̝̹͖̌̕ͅ ̷̡̢̛̹̝͕͕̣̦̭̻͈̖̖͔̫͕̱̤͎͕̳̜̲̩̟̰̍͂̌̃͛̏̔̄̌́̈́̏̆͗̅̔̄̀̀͒̎͑̕͝ö̷͊́̃̿̐̐̑͘̚͘­̢̧̢̧̢̢̗̺͙̪̗̠̥̝̣̩͎̺̣̯͈͇͙͎̻͚̬̰̜͕̪͖̯̪͕͉̪͚͕̥͚͇͕͓̯̜̭̰̝͖̞͉̺̻̮̤̗̳̂̃̆̕͜͜͝­͈r̵̝̠̓̿̊͑̏̌̀̆̒̂̊̑̐͗͂̈́̇̅̽́̀͊̑̀͐̅͋̈́̿̌̊̏͛̔̇̂̈́̿̈̋̋͗̾̔̏̽̍͗̿̊͑̚͘͝͝͠͝ ̷̢̛̛͔̂̑̋̂̓͐̿͗́̇̈́̂̉͗̽̈̄̓͑̒͐͆̃̒͐̎́͌̊̎̃̑̐̈̚̕͘͘͘̚̕͘͠H̶̛̃̈́̃͊͌̊̃̃̃̆̏̈́̚͝­̨̢̡̧̞̝̰͔̘̝̺͎͕͎̭͕̯͎̮͈̘̏͌̋̓̈͝e̴̐̉̔̏͑̆̓́̔͒͒͒̂̑͗̌͗̈́̄͗̏̒͒͐̂́̈́̌̌̽͘͘͘͝͝͝­̧̡̢̧̛͉̦̺̝͙͔̙̻͇̻͈͎̤͚̘̫̻̠̻̮̫̮͔̖̫͂̍̑͛͋̐̅̈́̀̽͂̃̔͐̕̕͘͜͜͝ä̷̠͍̹̙̥́̓͛̍̉͋͘̕­̧̢̨̨̯̼̹̮̦̯̣͔͎̱̣̭̩̯̭͓͇͔̙̬̭͉̮̝̭̳̲ͅͅv̶̡̢̨̟̟̯͙̹̱̱̫͉͈̘͚̄̿̿̐̃͊͂̂̇̃̂̀̕͘͘­̧̨̢̢̨̠̜̺̲̬̭͔̩̱̩̖̠͇̗̞͖͇͖͇̗͕̱̮͔̱͇̭͕̗̺̰̲͎̼͜͜ȅ̶̢̨̡̦̰̟̠͉̜̮̥̦̈́̔̾̓̀̎͠͝͠­̧̢̠̹̙͍̺͈n̶̢͖͉̟̙̭̺̙̯͌́͋͊̄̄̉̄̽̍̈́̿̍̈́̿́͘͜͜͝͝?̴̨̨̡͎̖͈̣̭̪͇̝̺̤̭͔͈̺͍̼̰͐͜ͅ­̢̨̭̥͙̮͔̩̟̜͉̟̺͖̭̱̜͕̗̳̜̭͇̩̫͓͎̟͕̦̩͙̠̘̤͜
̴̲͎͇̩̤̯̟̭͚̮̺̜̱̣̰͓͓̏͆̋̈́̈́̉̇͘͜͜­̡̡̧̡̧͖͙̞͚͍͇̗͚͎͓͖̘͚̙̱̭͙̪̩̪̠͜ͅĨ̸̛̛͛̀̈́͑͋̐̒̏͂͐̾̀̉́̆̒̈́̆͋̋͋̈̋͑̿́̽̌̌̐͆͝­̧̢̡͈͎̘̮̻͖̲͔͍̻͈̙̳̙̗̣͓͕̗̙͕̤̈́̀̍̏̄́̆̓̈̈́͒̃͘̚͜͜͜ ̶̡̡̡̡̤̗̹͕̹̰̙̪̘̭̝̯͈͓̪̟̼̺̊̌̅̌͘͜͜c̵̛͑̅̄̽̔̅̃͗͂͊́̇̑́͌̅̇̃͛̊̍́̈̉̎́͘̚̕̚͠͝­̧̢̛͎͔̮̱̭̹̯͎͖̰̯̲̲͈͉͍͖̠̃̅̑̓̓̽́̈͛͌̀̀͋̉́͐̕͝ȧ̵̛̒̄̾͌̋͑̎̆̀͆́̊̿̔̊̑̓͋͆͑̏͠­̯̜̟̋̉́̍̉͊̚͘͠n̵̛̠̪̘̮͎̥̞͍̥͎̳͔̯͖̂̃̄̅̔͆̈́̀̏͒̒̒̔̎̈́̔̔̂̔͗͆͗̿̾̃̈́͛̾͗̽͋̊̈́͛̕͠­̢̯̗̖̜͚̭̺͉̱'̸̛̰̑̋͗̽̽͐̃͂̾̐̋̄͂̉̒͐̋͗͑̈́̍̉́̀̃͐́͌̑̀̒̃̇͐͋̈́̅̉͂͆̋̐̓̈́̽͆͋̕͘̚̚­̨̡̨̰͉͔̲̳̘̩͈̮̣͕̗̠̟̘̪̻͉̙̟͓͙̻̝͈̞̙̜̲̺͇̝͇̤̩̼̣̖ͅt̸̔̅͒͑͐̇̂̑́́̓̓̃͂̑́̍̕̕͝͠­̢̢̯̼̠̙̭̳̜̭̗̱̥̟̝̗̜̠͉̜̣͖͎̙̙̰͈̹͈̱͉̣̼̈̈́̍͊͋̌̒͆̽͒͌͐͋͌͛͆͋̈́̆̅̈̚͜͜͝͝͝͝͠͠ͅ­͙͖̖͈̝̞ ̶̢̡̨̠̪͙̲͖̭̹̦͖̦̣̗̮̤͙͔̠̝̰̮͎̖̘̻̳̝̩͈̯̩̦̜̣̅̐́̏̀́̐̅̂̈́̄͋͒̅͜ͅk̴̪̉̅̐͂̔̿̄̈́̚­͎̜̭͇͖̞̟͓̱͉͈͜n̸̨̢̧̨̧̨̻̠͓̖̮̫̫̲̟͍̩̲̠̺͕̙̯̬͚̮͖̭͇͚̍͋̿̾̆̋̾͒̏͐̑͜͜ͅo̴͂̀͗͗͝­̧̨̢̡̛̳̻͔̥̙͍͇̱̭͍̭̀̈́͂͒͑̓̉͛̔͂̽̑̍̇̋̔͆̏̉̎̂̒͋̒̈́̾͌͒́̑̍͛̍̕͜͝͠w̵̛̍͋͋̅̄̽͘̚͠­̢̢̧̨̛̦̻̗̖͉̫̬͎͙̰͈͕̼̞͙̥̼͖̹̮̦̟͙̲̲̩̜̆̔̊̃̃͊̀̍͂̔̆̑̆͒̓̏͐͌̉̀̅̀͌̅̌̔̐͐̚͘͜͝ͅ­̧̡̼̪͎̟̼̖͈͖͕͔͚̦̣̻̞̺̩̩̼͓̠̤͓̻̘͖ ̶̛̹̙̻̤̩̙̤̙̯̪͙͐̉̅̏̄̋̀̓̋̎͋̽̇̒̏̔̈́̏̋̎̔̈́̈́͛̎̽͗̍̓̄͋͆̂͐̄́̆͌͐̿̎͌̾́̕̕͝͝͝͝͝͝­̧̧̨̖̦̙̤̱͓̻̥̙̘̞̝̩̪̪͇͈̼̜͚͜ṙ̴̛̊̀̂̔͐̉͌̇͂̈́̋͐̇̇͐͂͆̈́͋͂̌̌̎̀̎͐̏̒͌̇͛̀͆͒͘̚͘­̢̧̢̬̼̹͖͚̬͈͎̬͎̟͍̰̬̠̟͈͇̮̱̺͙̟̣̯͎̬͚͉͕̤̥̠͎̭̼̻͚͈̦͚͙̠͚̜̰̹͔̿̐̃̋̓̈̕͜͠ͅͅi̸̓­̛̍̽̀̉̊͑͋̾̄̒̈́͂͐͒̄̇͌̀̐̊̈̑́̉̽͐̆̀͌̔͗̿̎̏̀͛̀̓̈́͒͆̅͛̿̽͑̓̇͒̇̐̇͆̒̊̕̚͘͝͠͝͠͠͝­̨̢̩̠͉̠͚̹̝̺̘͇͉̀g̶̻͗̏̏͋ͅḧ̵̡̡͎̖̙̱̻̲͎̣͖͖͖̪̠͉̳̬̯͔́̇̽͑̐̈́̅̂̍͘̚̚̕̚͜͝ͅť̴̕­̨̧̪̟̱͕̪͎̺̻͎̘̗̰̠̘̟͇̭͔̖̉͌̀͌́͊́̌͋̈́̇͋̓́̑̀̐̈́̇͐̈́͑̊̈́̈̓̽͌͊̑̽̌̔͘̕͘̕̚͠͝͝ͅ ̸̧̨̙͈̣̦̱̳̘̰̪̲͚̺̬̠͙̥̩̮̯̣̼̙̙̬͍̟̖̝̿̋͌͌̾̏̎̌̔͒͋͒͛͑̍̓̎͌̄̄̎̐̇̇̇̓̓͝n̷̈̃͊̓­̡̛̘̰̯͉͙̯͔͑̔͂̓́̔̽͒́̏̓̌͆̎̿͑̈́̈̆̊̊͗̀̐̀̋̈́̂̏̄̾̀̋͊̾̎͒̎͆̀̀̄͘͠͝͝͝͝ͅo̸̎̒͒̏͘­̡̢̡̡̨̧̨̳͚̜̯̖͇̮̫͍͔̮̹͍̯͈̟̗̞̫͍̪̤̱̜̭͎̣̻̺̝̦̮͎̥̺̰̙̘̪̝̱̲͕͎̦̩̙̀̌̃̋́̈́̉̉̃̀͜­͕w̷̨̛̛̛̟̫̲̭̿͒̏͋̈́̈͒͑̈́̽̑́̀͛͛͛̄̐̿̽̓́͆̈́̇͑̿̈́̓̃͊̊͂̽͛̄̍̓̾́͛̀͊͘͘͘̚͘͝͝͝͝͝͝­͓̮͚̘͇̤͔̖.̵̨͖̰̙̗̮͌̈́̀̑̅̄͒̅͋̎͆͊͝
̸̨̢͚̮̱̮̤̱̼̫̦̝̗̜̗̘̖͉͉̜̊̃͋̂̌̎̅̐̒̋͂͘͘͝­̡̧̙̝̙͓̳̘͎͍͔̤͔͜͜ͅẄ̸̨̨̛̮͔͖̙̜̤̮͍͉͇͚́̂̌̽̃̔̽͊́̇͊̏̎̂́̈̅́͌́̅̾͊̈́͆̄̅̈́̿̇͌͝͠­̢̡̨̲͔̠̼̺̣̼̞̭͖̥͇̝̪̣̟͉̠̙̲̖̙͕̥͕̥̤̗̖̱͖̜h̷̛̛̀̇̒̾͗̀̌̈̓́͑͐̌͒͐̂̓͌͋̅͊̔̂͘͝͝­̢̛̬̫̜͖͖̬̥͇̳̘̺͚̪͕̝̪̝̼̗̲̪͇̱̟̜̝̘͚̝̫͙̩̹̰̫̱̻̂̃̄͆̒̌͗̈́̈́͜͜͠͝͠͝͝ĩ̶̋͐̽̓͊̏͝­̗͉̘̋̓͛̍̈́͑̅̈̓͐͒̕͘̚͜͠ͅc̸̛͐̇́̀̊̌̂̄͆̿̐̊̈́́͂̓͆̿̍̈́̂̓̀͌̆̈́͗̐̈́̈́̄̈́̑̄̏̐̚͘̚͝͝͠­̡̧̨̡̡̡̰͚̻̟̤̠̩̻̗̺̱̦̭͙̗̠̘̹̯̫̼̮͉̬͖̱̠̟̯͚̤̲̥̼̳͖̗͚̖͖͇̫͓̟̹̭̠̣̈̏̅͂̽̓̚͜͝ͅͅ­̡̢͕̭̦͙̥̮̥ͅh̴̡̢̢͓̝͎̥͇̬̮̥͓̣͈̼̰̞͕̠̞̤̤̮͔͚͎̤̖̯̺̞͔͍͇͆͒̒̈́̈́̆̉̄̈̆̂̌̆̑̉̕̚͝­̢̧͔͉͚̳̪̗̻̹̱̘̺̩̯͉̖͖̮͕̮̘̩̫̫̫ͅͅ ̵̢̛̛͇̫̼̼̙̦͍͕͉̳̗̹̳̦̜̰̽̉̈̆̄̆́̃́͋̓͂̐͊̋͗̀̓̌̈́́̓͒̓̿̓́̑̊̇̈͗̂̑̑͋̚̕̚͝͝͝͝͝o­̸̡̨̢̨͈͍͖͉͉͚̺̮̱͇̤̘͈̝̥̟͚͖͖̬̣̳̰͍̩̼͎̳̮͔̙̪̜̄̔͊͋̒͌́̌̒̔̄́̐͌͂̊͂̔̃͌̍͜͜͜͜͝ͅ­̨̝ņ̷̨̢̡̭̩̦̪̐͗͜ȩ̴̢̛̥̗̭̘̫̣̣̙͚͕̯͇̘͉͎͙͎̠͌̋͌́̄̔͐̈̋̓͆̎̅́͂̀̒͗̌͂̌́̋͜͜͝ͅ­̢̣̟͓̖̯̳͔̥̟̣̦̥̖̖̣͓̠̩̱̹̞̣̠̯̻͔͈͉̱̣͉̞̟̪̪̝̙͜ͅ ̷̨̛̛̛̛͈̖͔̯̜̮͖̈́̽̓̐̓͊͐͑͐͌͐́̓̇̓̈͛̋̅̍̋͂̐̀̅̃́̽̌̀͌́̈́̈́̀̔̀́̾̿̃̒̚̕͝͝ï̵͌̈͝­̧̧̡̧̨̢̛͖̹̳̗̟̥͍̬̦͙͕̩͕̤̹͙͈͉͓͕̲̱͍̲̞̬̬̩̯̭̜̥̜͚̘͎̄̇̅̄̉͂͛̎́̉̍͆̒̃̄͆̉͂͘͜͜ͅ­̞̻͇̺͔̹s̵̛̘̩̳͈͉͊́̍̑̿͊͗͝͝ ̶̛͖̖͂̀̑̾̂̉̈́̒͂̈́̀̈̔͌̇̊̆́͐̽͐̒̎̃͆͆̊̎̿͘͝͝g̴̈̈́̀́̐̂̋͗̓̉̅̀́̌̎̓̋̓̑̅͂̐͒͛̏͝͝­̡̧̡̡̛̝̦̰̭̦̯͙͇͕̮̟̜̼͇̣̹̗̥̤̖̰̼͓̼̺̟̭̮̫̳̱̟̦͖̹̜͕̮̠̤̩̽̇̒̀̈́͌̉̎̾͊̃̎̚͜͜o̶̿͠­̡̨̢̰̮̦̮̙̦̣̩͎̯̣͔̠͕͛̓̂̓̆̾̎̉̑͑̐͌̅̔͒̃̊̓͛͂̓͛̄͂̾̏͊̄̃̀̀́̃̄̂̑̚͝͝͠ͅi̴̋́́̉͐­̧̢̢̡̢͙͖̬͉͉̭̻͕̮͓̞̫̦̙̼̜̣̫̝̯͉̫̭̫̻̘͙͓̫͕̞̫͇̱̩͚͎̮̻̞̗̮̘͜ǹ̵̛̐̍̈́̈́͛̌͂̊̀̕͠͝­̨̧̧̢̥̯̖͇̼̠̤̻͙͎͙̲̪̗̥͚͕͚̭̯̥͈̜̥̹̥̞̙̹̗̬͇̈́̎͌̂̊̐̆̄͑͋̄͛̓̋̕̕̕ͅg̸̋̈̃̒̄͛͋̀͝­̡̧̛̠̩̟̣̳̿̓͐̋̑̐͑̅̏̓͛͛͊̀̋̽͛̽̒́̊̔͗̅͒̈͗̄̐̓̋̊̇̅͊͛̈́̾̍͆̽̇́̉́̂́̂͑͘̕̕̕͜͝͠͝­̢̧̢̜͈̫̤̻̖̗̖̼̝͔͕͕̠͚̹̗͈̮̞̲̠̩̩̩̝̤̭̫̣ ̶̡̢̨̧̨̨̧̡̛͖͈̱͍̣̳̻͓̜̖̳̤̹͚̪̼̻̠̳͈̥͍̣̻̖̺̝͈̜̺̼̪̩̹͈̣͕̠̜̬͔̬̟̜̟̱̻͔̲̱̒̂͜͜͜­̟t̸͔͎͈̱̻̙͆̇̐͆̌͋̏̉̓̒͌̆̔͗́̽͆́̀͐͑̍̉͆̂̽̍̋̊̀̊̎̐̓͒̌̆͌̑͗̈̌̊̈́̈́͛͐͗͆̕̕̚͘͝͝͝­̡̟̟̣̼͇͉͖̺̻̙͙͓̫̞̝̫̝̰̞̝̗̩̥̙̦̠̗̱̯̪̙̝͎ͅo̸͖̻̟̗͇͂̈̒͆͒̏̀̉̄̈́͌͆́̿̒̐̀̓͐̓͘͝͝­̢̢̡̢̡̨̡̧̢͙̩̹̖͚͖̖̖̺̤̘̮͙̼̤͕̩͙̗͚̤͚͚̙͍͍͔͓͇̱̟̖̗̪͕͚͎̘̪̗̩͜ ̶̛̛̤̝̤̰͈̲͕̞̬̭͇͈̫̟̮͇͚͈̲̖̟̞͎̠̝̾͋̂̀̀͗̒̾̾̃͛̒̊͐͒͐͊̏͆͋̂̃̄̒̐̈́̑̄̽̊͘͜͝͠͝͠ͅ­̢̧̡̨̡̬̮̞̭̥͈͚͈̦̩̻̩̼̙̘̺̩̟̞̰͖̜͚͇̮̬͔͜ͅͅẅ̴͌͂̀̅͛̄͆͂͗́̈́̂̿̐͌̇̀̐̔̍̄̀͘͘̚̕͝­̨̻̪͉̤̲̖̟͙̩̻̖͔̙̗̲̪̼̜̭̙̥̮̫̘̭̳̣̣̭̫͜͜ͅͅͅë̷̛́̒̅̈͆͐̐͛͌̑̀͋̀̄̏̈́̽̄̍̾̐͌͗͝͝­̨̧̡̛̛̘̱̹̞͈͚̪̺͖̠͉̹͕͚͓̪̟̬̖̰̜̮̟͍̤̳͍̜́̀́̒̈́͑̒̀̆̓̏͂̉̂͐͊̇̊̽̊̿͆̆̿̍̚̚̕͜ͅͅͅ­̢̢̠̬̪͔͓̱̞̻̹͓̝͉̲̯͖͓̣̰͙ͅͅl̸̛͊̈́͑͂̀̂̃̊̃̌͛̍̀̎̀͂̾̓̄̆̓̾̎͒̅̒̔̋̏̂́̊͊͒̕͝͝͝͝­̥̜̠͙͙̫̤̥͔̂͒̋̍͋̌̃̔̾̍̉͂͌̌͒̀̕̚͝c̵̛̓́̂̽̑̆̇̐́̒̈̈́͋̓͂͊̌̇̃͗̈́̇͒͋̑͆͋͛͒͐̃̕͠͝­͔͎͌̆͒̑͛̀́̈́̎̈̍͑́̐͋̌̇̔̄̈́̓̌̌͒̓̃̒̕͝͝͠o̸̢͚͉͇̖̺͈͖̰̭̝̣̙̰̹̥̹̥̺̘͔̹͈̬̽͒́́͜͝­̘̜̹͉̩̲̹̤̯͎͉ͅm̸̢͓̲͕̝̫̥̻̤̳̭͚̩͖̳̥̭̬̌͌̈́̐̈̿̀̔̓̏͌͛̑̄̽͌́͆̉͊̓̍̃͂̄͂̕̕̕͝͝͝͠­̨̨̻͚͉̘̫̯͎ȩ̵̛̤̮̟̉̄̎̓̈̿̔͆̿́͊͗̿͆́̎͆̽̍͆̌͗̉͂̐̅̔̋̉̄̀̅͌̈̇̽͂͊̿̍̕̚͝͠͝͝͝͠͝­̢̧̤̞̙̹̪̰͚̗̤͍͖̯͎͎̭͕̹͖͕͈̗̳̜̗̜͎̣̰̳̗̟̪͈̫̹̼͎͔̩̭̭͔͓͕̲̞̙̜̯̻͓̯͖̟̼ ̴̢̡̛̟̗̟͕͓͓̺̗͈͓̜̼̠͇͙͇̖̟̆̉́͆̐́̏͒͛̂͊͐͂̓̀̾̐̔͋̿̀̔̓͂̐͂̃́̑̓̎̃͑̔̈́́̌̀̏͝͝͝ͅ­̧̢̨͉̳͙̻͇͚͕̖͇̮͈͎̻̟̪̙͇̮̬̞̗̘͜m̷̈̿͑̅͌̀̂͒̂̏̉̀͌̾̈́́͛̐̉̂̅̒̋̊̎̈̿͗͆̍̉͛̕͘̕̕͠­̡̨̧̖̦̱̱̻̬̩̜͓͈͎̳̳͎̼̝̻͚̯̘̙̺̖̲̩̰̱͕̲͓̟͚͉̜̆̆́̑̃̇̋͆̄̅̅̚͘͘͝͝ͅé̵͌̄͒̍͐͋̌̑­̢̡̡̧̡̠̞̺͚̦͇̝͈̠̗̗̙̯͉̺̩̩̲͎͉̪̗͇͇͙̹͎̝̪͈̟̞͙̤̠͚̜̻̝͔̜̞͈̗̥͇͍̹̳̲͖́͋̊͜͝ͅ.̸̀­̨̧̡̢̛͎͓̹̟͉̟̼̣͉͚̜̫̣͚̞͖̙̹̹̳̤̀̓̇̄̎̂̎͊͑͗̔̈́̾͛̉͗̾̀̅̌̍͑͐́͂͘̕̕̕̕̕̚͘͜͜͝͠͝͝­̧̣̬̥̰̬̦̤͖̗͔͍̪̺͚̱̻̙̺̙̲ͅ
̸̛̈́̏̃͌͛͂̀̀̇́̍̆̊̐͋̒̽̅̏́̍͊̉̀̄̔̈̾̐͋́̋̇͐̿̎̽̚͘͠­̢̜̰̱̒̇͐͛̏̊̋̽̄̅̎̊͐͌͐͘̚̚͘͝ͅB̷̧̢̩̳͎̺̞̪͍̟̤̤̹̼̗̼̹̥̝͈͚̖̙̺̳̝̀͐͒̈̈́̒̑̊͜͜͝͠­̨̧̧̠̳͙̤̹ͅū̶͕̞̲̙̽t̵̨̯̳̻͇̝̬͇̻̣̯͎͍̰̣̲͙̭̗̗͙̻̤̫͍͓͔̱̝͕̔̉̐̈́̂͐̒͆̇̈́͛̈́͋͘ͅͅ­̢̦̩̻̬͎̩̦͙̬̪͓̼̩̲̝̫͕͍̠̻̱ͅ,̴̊̐́̂͂̽̍̓͑̓̔̈́̈̉̉͐͑̎̇̆̽͑͌͌͋̈̅̔̾̐̓͊͋̈̒̍̋̚͘͝­̨̢̛̬̙̗͚͕͍̮͔̠̺̰̩̥̭̼̲͈̝̣͍̲̞͌͊̿̇̓́̇̑̇̓̀͆̈́̕͠
̸̛̌͐͐͛̎̾̅̍̉͐͐̈͐̊̎̑̃͌̚͘̕͠­̡̛̛͖̱̤̭͎̪̖̙̠̠͔̭̦̹̞̞̼̘͊͋̀̉̉̃̐̈́͊̽̽̆̒̑̏̅̉̏̅͋͂̕̕͠ͅͅt̷̽̌̈́̈̈͆͊̒͂̈́͒̒͐͘̕͝­̧̢̢͇̻̰͍̩̞̯̥̮̼̮̜̮̘̪͍̱̮͉̼̬̖̟͕͓̭͔̯̆̂̓̉̀͂̆̐̊́̿́̍̽́̎̿̋̄̾̊͐̀̓̒̔͆͛̾͜͜͠ͅͅ­̡̨̨̨̖̣̭̙̝̹̻̝̥̥͇͇̰͕͈̰̯̩ḧ̵̛̛̛̛́́̆̏̐͋̽͆̐̀̍̿̌̅̊͆͒̍͆̈̃̔͐̈́̉̐̉̏̅̒́̍͛̇͘͝͝­̧̛̛̛̛̯̺̜̒̈̄̀̿̏̋́̌̄̾̊̓̀̋̈́̚͘͝ͅe̴̒̏͆̆͊̈́͊͗̾͛͑̔̈̽̀͗͌͌̊̾̾̈́̈́́͐̀̀̄̚͘͠͝͝­̢̧̧͇̳͔̘͚̝̼͖̣̤͎͎̻̠̑̀̿̃͐͌̿͗̄̎͛̓́̂̄̌̌̿̿̅̃̓͐̉̽͐̚̕͝͝͝ ̶̢̡̫͇͔̺̠̹̭͎̫͈̂̓̐̊q̸̝̜̻̎̀̅̇͊͗̀̓̎̾͑́̽̈́͌̈́͂̎̍͛̏̃̿̀͌̇̓͆̆̽̃̈͌̎͛̋̓̃́̓̓͝͝­̡̨̨̤͙̻͕̣̰͇̫̜̦̯̻͔̟̝̣̲̝̥͓͙͇͖̥͉̩̝̦̙͔͈͓̟̯̫͖͜u̵̧̠̺̱̹͓̳̫̥̘̘̘̹͕̗̥͙̙̪̟̽͂ͅ­̢̧̡̨͎̻̪̞̫̼͎͓͚͔̲̬̥͎̦̝̩̙̬e̴̢͕̤̮͕̰̱͇̩̮̦͓̣̪̖͕͈͓̦̬̭̙̥̻̔͆̇̂͂͒͋͆͑̒ͅs̴̑͝͝­̨̢̡̢̨̦͖̱̟̭̦͕̹̳̝̜̱̹̣̠̦̙̮̙͈̫͎̺͈̙̉͋̍͛̀͂̋͌͌́̀̓͂̀̈́͑͆́̐̆̍̏̋͑́̒̂́͒̍͑̋͘̚͘­̬̠͇̞͕̳͍̪̗̟̗̮̱͕͓̬̮̠̱̝͔ț̵̡̪̭͉̩̼̗͈̑̊̅̒͒͌̊͛́̀͊̌͗̍́̏̉̓͐̔͗̃́̀͗̋͛̓̽̃̕͘͝­̡̧̤͖̲̩̝̯̖̣̗̦̞͇̟̩͈͓͉̖͈̣̙̦̹̹̮̣͙̖ͅi̸̤̎͂̀͌̽̐͂̉̀̄̐́̈́͂̂͛̈́́͛̂̍̓̒̾̇̽̚͘͠͝͝­̨̧̡̡̧̨̧̧̼͕͙̣͕̯͕̭͚̻̼̙̰̳̘̭͇̹̝͇̬̟͚͕̤͙̝̦̥̲̟͉͈͕̜̗̼̹̖̳̰͚͉̰̤͔̼͈̻̺͙̰͜ͅo̵͊­̢̡̢̨̦̲͈̱̙̭̖̺̺̪̜̱͓̯̲͙͚̰̳̻̬̮̬͎̞̥̺̗̠͈̹̤̣͇̼̹̖̹͙̳̻̘͚͖̪̤̙̮̲̘͕͙̾́̑̀͜ͅͅͅͅ­̟̪͍ń̶̨̡̝̻͉͓̤̫̺̲̫̀͊͆͒̓̀̽̈́͋̔̓͒̈́̌̏̌̂̋̃̊̀̇̇̚͝͝͝͝ͅ ̶̹̺̗̙̱̳͑̃́̆͌̏̐̋͛̆̀̈̎̅̽̏̈̄̓͌̔̿̂̽̓̓̂̾̅̾̀̍͌̔̆̏̏̽̓̅̅͂̂̋̀͆̑̃͂͗̽͘̕͠͠͠͝͝­̨͉͇̜̱̗͇̘͖̮̪̱̜̠̲̜͇i̶̛͊͛̐͌͂͂͗́̿̀̓̄́̑̈́̽̓͆̓̾̊̎̂̓̐̌̓̂̏̂̈́̋͑̋̄͑̑͆͊̅͒̕̚͝͝­̡̨̧̧͕̦̦̗͈̦̘̺̥͖̬̹̳̞̪̮͎̜̪̣̘̮̫̳̖͇͚̞̱̫̞͚̗̖̳̩̫͔͍̣̗̼̯͇̲͙̝̳͎̥͉͉̾͂̽̽̽͜͜ͅͅ­̤̤s̶̡̧̛͔̰̤̝̯̯̰͎̹̱͙̻̯͔̖̙̃̽̽̐̈̓͆̎͌͌̉̌̔̃̒̓͌̋̆̽̔̈́̐̔̍͋̏͋͗͌̌͛̓͛͆̀̀͆̆̉̚̚­̧̢̡̨͍͍͚̲͉̰̗̖̼̖͎̪͕̙̟̻̘̥̭̖̥͖̮͈̙̜̭̬̙̺͚̲͎͉̜̟̭͈͜͜ͅͅ ̷̨̡̢̧̡̛̛̟͔̩̗͔̬̣͔̮̞̤̭̞͍̠̠̥͕̥̺͈̩͓̙̞̈̉̐̈́̍͂̿͛͋͑̂̃̌́͋̾̃́̂̾͆͌̑̾̈́̒͘͝͠͝͠͝­̮̝͉͈͈͕̹͚̳͈̤͇̻͓ͅͅp̷̒̽̈͐̓͐̌̈́̊̓̃̓̄̀̓̑̍̔̄̔̇̄̈́͆̈́̃̈́̋̑̎̆̇́̇͊̂͘̚̚̕͠͠͝͝͝͝͝­̡̡̧̧̜̟͇̟̙̩̥̭͚͉̰̣̠̪̭̗̦̙͚͕̙̦̫̩̹̥̣̖͖̲͋̓́͛͊̎͂̂̍̇́̓̾͘͜͝͠o̸̎̏̒̿̿̐̓̽̃̚͝͝­̡̛̺̩̜̯̣̬͇̹͉͙̠͔̰͈͙̗̞͗͒̔́͒̏͛͌̈́̔͐́̌͐̄̆̂̓̈́͆͂͐̇̌̄́̈́̈͛̈́̿̌̐́̚͜͝͝p̶͙̲͓̮͕̀­̢̡̨̧̨͙̖̦̟͔̦̺͖̫̖̗̹̳͓͈̙̠̲̝̠̘̥͕͕͎͎̖̺̠͓͈̹̙͇̫̫̰͖͓̱͙͍̣̬̲͍̣͍͜͜͜͜ͅp̴͂̍͋̍͠­̢̧̨̢͇̟̩̰̭̙̹̥͍̯̜̪͖̩̩̖͔̯̮͖̖̥̹͇͍̗͈̥͔͙̟͌̊̂̍͆͂̅̇̎͐͂͛̋̎̾͆̐̔̆̐̔̇́̓́̋͜͠͠ͅ­̖͍̬̘͉͎̼͜i̶̡̢̧̢̛̛̠͖͕̼̟̯̖̗͈̹̮͔̩̗͇̋̋̈̉̍̀̽̂́͑͌̀̿͌͌̓͒͆̇̿̒͆̈̈́́̎͗͒͗͋̚͘͝͝­̨͔̼̳͕̬̺͓̬͉̻̰̬̣͇̲ͅn̶̨̧̧̢̧̧̢̧̛̦͙̰̬͎͍̫͉̝̦̣̲̳̬͖̫͇̘̙̗̥̲͔͕̗̠̟͙̼̘̪̍̂̽͜ͅͅ­̥͔͉͉̯̼̬̗͔̰͎̘̞̦̞̻̟̬̮̮̞͎ͅg̴̛̏̍̽̄̾̀̀͊͛͂̐͊́̔̅̀͛̈̋͂̄͂̍̍̓͌̓́̍͂͑̐̇̚͠͝͠͠͠­̨̢̢̡̢̧̧̛̛͈͈̻̲̝͇͖͔̝͈̟͙̖͓̺̗̪̲͇͚͈̟͕̫̰̣̮̙̞̲͍͌̈́̒̿̑̅̉͑͑̿͗̍̉̉͒̔͊̄̏́̚̕͜͠͝­̫̞͉̮͉̹͈̪̱̫̥̣̳̹̤͍ ̵̛͒̆̅̽̌́̀̀́̄͂́̀̏̽̓̏̅̇͒̿̐͐̑͆̈́̈́̈́̑͗͐͋̓̋͋͌̋̒̿̈́̆͋̓͌̄̃̅̊̃̍̄̚̕̚͘͘͝͠͠͠͝͝͠­̨͇̗̘̞̻̤̟̱͎̩̱̇ͅú̷̋̀̋̽̅̾̑͛̌̔̄̌̃̍̇̈́̋̑̍̎̔̄̀̓̂̑̽̿͋͑͛̄̐͋̈̓̏́͘̚̕͘͠͠͝͝͠͠­̨̡̨̡̧̛̤͍̞͔̳̰̗̺̞̣͕̙͍̙̘̟͇̺̞͇̹̜̦̖̰̗̯̩͉̭̺͎̻̳͍͔̯̥͔̯̘̱̀̀̆̅̀̋̉́̈́̎̋͒͋̍͌̚͝­̨̧͖̟͖̲̘͖̥̘̮̘͙͍̤͜p̵̀̏̓̈́̇̂͌͑͊̃͐͌̏͊̓̽̑̀̂͒͑̓̂͛̔̃͌̋̿̈́̉͂͋͛̋̾̒̿̕̚̚̕͝͠͠͝͝­̻̩̲͊̀͘͘͠.̶̖̳̱̮̥͍̹̥͎̼̀̽̿̉̔͊̓̍͐͗̌́̔̈́͑̓̆̓͋̏̌͘͝͝
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Pray for my death!
Pray!
RAJ NANDY Jul 2017
THE LEGEND OF HOLLYWOOD IN VERSE
Dear Readers, I have tried to cover the salient features of this True Story in free flowing verse mainly with end rhymes. If you read it loud, you can hear the chimes! Due to the short attention span of my readers I had to cut short this long story, and conclude with the
Golden Era of Hollywood by stretching it up to the 1950's only. When TV began to challenge the Big Screen Cinema seriously! I have used only a part of my notes here. Kindly read the entire poem and don't hesitate to know many interesting facts - which I also did not know! I wish there was a provision for posting a few interesting photographs for you here. Best wishes, - Raj Nandy, New Delhi.  

                 THE LEGEND OF HOLLYWOOD :
                        THE AMERICAN  DREAM
                             BY RAJ NANDY

           A SHORT  HISTORICAL  BACKGROUND
Since the earliest days, optical toys, shadow shows, and ‘magic
lanterns’, had created the illusion of motion.
This concept was first described by Mark Roget in 1824 as  
the 'persistent of vision'.
Giving impetus to the development of big screen cinema with its
close-ups, capturing all controlled and subtle expressions!
The actors were no longer required to shout out their parts with
exaggerated actions as on the Elizabethan Stage.
Now even a single tear drop could get noticed easily by the entire
movie audience!
With the best scene being included and edited after a few retakes.
To Thomas Edison and his able assistant William Rogers we owe the invention of Kinetoscope, the first movie camera.
On the grounds of his West Orange, New Jersey laboratory, Edison
built his first movie studio called the ‘Black Maria’.   (1893)
He also purchased a string of patents related to motion picture
Camera; forming the Edison Trust, - a cartel that took control of
the Film Industry entire!

Fort Lee, New Jersey:
On a small borough on the opposite bank of the Hudson River lay
the deserted Fort Lee.
Here scores of film production crews descended armed with picture Cameras, on this isolated part of New Jersey!
In 1907 Edison’s company came there to shoot a short silent film –
‘Rescue From an Eagle’s Nest’,
Which featured for the first time the actor and director DW Griffith.
The independent Chaplin Film Company built the first permanent
movie studio in 1910 in Fort Lee.
While some of the biggest Hollywood studios like the Universal,
MGM, and 20th Century Fox, had their roots in Fort Lee.
Some of the famous stars of the silent movie era included ‘Fatty’
Arbuckle, Will Rogers, Mary Pickford, Dorothy and Lillian Gish,
Lionel Barrymore, Rudolph Valentine and Pearl White.
In those days there were no reflectors and electric arch lights.
So movies were made on rooftops to capture the bright sunlight!
During unpredictable bad weather days, filming had to be stopped
despite the revolving stage which was made, -
To rotate and capture the sunlight before the lights atarted to fade!

Shift from New Jersey to West Coast California:
Now Edison who held the patents for the bulb, phonograph, and the Camera, had exhibited a near monopoly;
On the production, distribution, and exhibition of the movies which made this budding industry to shift to California from
New Jersey!
California with its natural scenery, its open range, mountains, desert, and snow country, had the basic ingredients for the movie industry.
But most importantly, California had bright Sunshine for almost
365 days of the year!
While eight miles away from Hollywood lay the port city of Los Angeles with its cheap labour.

                        THE RISE  OF  HOLLYWOOD
It was a real estate tycoon Harvey Wilcox and his wife Daeida from
Kansas, who during the 1880s founded ‘Hollywood’ as a community for like-minded temperate followers.
It is generally said that Daeida gave the name Hollywood perhaps
due to the areas abundant red-berried shrubs also known as
California Holly.
Spring blossoms around and above the Hollywood Hills with its rich variety,  gave it a touch of paradise for all to see !
Hollywood was incorporated as a municipality in 1903, and during
1910 unified with the city of Los Angeles.
While a year later, the first film studio had moved in from New
Jersey, to escape Thomas Edison’s monopoly!    (1911)

In 1913 Cecil B. De Mille and Jesse Lasky, had leased a barn with
studio facilities.
And directed the first feature length film ‘Squaw Man’ in 1914.
Today this studio is home to Hollywood Heritage Museum as we get to see.
The timeless symbol of Hollywood film industry that famous sign on top of Mount Lee, was put up by a real estate developer in 1923.  
This sign had read as ‘’HOLLY WOOD LAND’’ initially.
Despite decades of run-ins with vandals and pranksters, it managed to hang on to its prime location near the summit of the Hollywood Hills.
The last restoration work was carried out in 1978 initiated by Hugh
Hefner of the ******* Magazine.
Those nine white letters 45 feet tall now read ‘HOLLYWOOD’, and has become a landmark and America’s cultural icon, and an evocative symbol for ambition, glamour, and dream.
Forever enticing aspiring actors to flock to Hollywood, hypnotised
by lure of the big screen!

                     GOLDEN AGE OF HOLLYWOOD
The Silent Movie Era which began in 1895, ended in 1935 with the
production of ‘Dance of Virgins’, filmed entirely in the island of Bali.
The first Sound film ‘The Jazz Singer’ by Warner Bros. was made with a Vitaphone sound-on-disc technology.  (October 1927)
Despite the Great Depression of the 1930s, this decade along with the 1940s have been regarded by some as Hollywood’s Golden Age.
However, I think that this Golden Age includes the decades of the
1940s and the 1950s instead.
When the advent of Television began to challenge the Film Industry
itself !

First Academy Award:
On 16th May 1929 in the Roosevelt Hotel on Hollywood Boulevard,
the First Academy Award presentation was held.
Around 270 people were in attendance, and tickets were priced at
$5 per head.
When the best films of 1927 & 1928 were honored by the Academy
of Motion Production and Sciences, or the AMPS.
Emil Jennings became the best actor, and Janet Gaynor the best actress.
Special Award went to Charlie Chaplin for his contribution to the
silent movie era and for his silent film ‘The Circus’.
While Warren Brothers was commended for making the first talking picture ‘The Jazz Singer’, - also receiving a Special Award!
Now, the origin of the term ‘OSCAR’ has remained disputed.
The Academy adopted this name from 1939 onwards it is stated.
OSCAR award has now become “the stuff dreams are made of”!
It is a gold-plated statuette of a knight 13.5 inches in height, weighing 8.5 pounds, was designed by MGM’s art director Cedric Gibbons.
Annually awarded for honouring and encouraging excellence in all
facets of motion picture production.

Movies During the Great Depression Era (1929-1941):
Musicals and dance movies starring Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers provided escapism and good entertainment during this age.
“Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did. She just did it
backwards and in high heels,” - the Critics had said.
This compatible pair entertained the viewers for almost one and
a half decade.
During the ‘30s, gangster movies were popular starring James Cagey, Humphrey Bogart, and Edward G. Robinson.
While family movies had their popular child artist Shirley Temple.
Swashbuckler films of the Golden Age saw the sword fighting scenes of Douglas Fairbanks and Errol Flynn.
Flynn got idolized playing ‘Robin Hood’, this film got released in
1938 on the big screen!
Story of the American Civil War got presented in the epic ‘Gone With The Wind’ (1939) with Clarke Gable and Vivian Leigh.
This movie received 8 Oscars including the award for the Best Film, - creating a landmark in motion picture’s history!
More serious movies like John Steinbeck’s ‘Grapes of Wrath’ and
John Ford’s  ‘How Green Was My Valley’, were released in 1940 and 1941 respectively.
While the viewers escaped that depressive age to the magical world
of  ‘Wizard of Oz’ with its actress Judy Garland most eagerly!
Let us not forget John Wayne the King of the Westerns, who began
his acting career in the 1930s with his movie ‘The Big Trail’;
He went on to complete 84 films before his career came to an end.
Beginning of the 40s also saw Bob Hope and the crooner Bing Crosby, who entertained the public and also the fighting troops.
For the Second World War (1939-45) had interrupted the Golden Age of Hollywood.
When actors like Henry Fonda, Clarke Gable, James Stewart and
Douglas Fairbanks joined the armed forces temporarily leaving
Hollywood.
Few propaganda movies supporting the war efforts were also made.
While landmark movies like ‘Philadelphia Story’, ‘Casablanca’, ‘Citizen Kane’,
‘The Best Years of Our Lives’, were some of the most successful movies of that decade.  (The 1940s)
Now I come towards the end of my Hollywood Story with the decade  of the 1950s, thereby extending the period of Hollywood’s Golden Age.
Since having past the Great Depression and the Second World War,  the Hollywood movie industry truly matured and came of age.

                        HOLLYWOOD  OF  THE  1950s

BACKGROU­ND:
The decade of the ‘50s was known for its post-war affluence and
choice of leisure time activities.
It was a decade of middle-class values, fast-food restaurants, and
drive-in- movies;
Of ‘baby-boom’, all-electric home, the first credit cards, and new fast moving cars like the Ford, Plymouth, Buick, Hudson, and Chevrolet.
But not forgetting the white racist terrorism in the Southern States!
This era saw the beginning of Cold War, with Eisenhower
succeeding Harry S. Truman as the American President.
But for the film industry, most importantly, what really mattered  
was the advent of the Domestic TV.
When the older viewers preferred to stay at home instead of going
out to the movies.
By 1950, 10.5 million US homes had a television set, and on the
30th December 1953, the first Color TV went on sale!
Film industries used techniques such as Cinemascope, Vista Vision,
and gimmicks like 3-D techniques,
To get back their former movie audience back on their seats!
However, the big scene spectacle films did retain its charm and
fantasy.
Since fantasy epics like ‘The Story of Robin Hood’, and Biblical epics like ‘The Robe’, ‘Quo Vadis’, ‘The Ten Commandments’ and ‘Ben-Hur’, did retain its big screen visual appeal.
‘The Robe’ released on 16th September 1953, was the first film shot
and projected in Cinema Scope;
In which special lenses were used to compress a wide image into a
standard frame and then expanded it again during projection;
Resulting in an image almost two and a half times as high and also as wide, - captivating the viewers imagination!

DEMAND FOR NEW THEMES DURING THE 1950s :
The idealized portrayal of men and women since the Second World War,
Now failed to satisfy the youth who sought exciting symbols for rebellion.
So Hollywood responded with anti-heroes with stars like James Dean, Marlon Brando, and Paul Newman.
They replaced conventional actors like Tyron Power, Van Johnson, and Robert Taylor to a great extent, to meet the requirement of the age.
Anti-heroines included Ava Gardner, Kim Novak, and Marilyn Monroe with her vibrant *** appeal;
She provided excitement for the new generation with a change of scene.
Themes of rebellion against established authority was present in many Rock and Roll songs,
Including the 1954 Bill Hailey and His Comets’ ‘Rock Around the Clock’.
The era also saw rise to stardom of Elvis Presley the teen heartthrob.
Meeting the youthful aspirations with his songs like ‘Jailhouse Rock’!
I recall the lyrics of this 1957 film ‘Jailhouse Rock’ of my school days, which had featured the youth icon Elvis:
   “The Warden threw a party in the county jail,
     The prison band was there and they began to wail.
     The band was jumping and the joint began to sing,
     You should’ve heard them knocked-out jail bird sing.
     Let’s rock, everybody in the whole cell block……………
     Spider Murphy played the tenor saxophone,
     Little Joe was blowing the slide trombone.
     The drummer boy from Illinois went crash, boom, bang!
     The whole rhythm section was the Purple Gang,
      Let's rock,.................... (Lyrics of the song.)

Rock and Roll music began to tear down color barriers, and Afro-
American musicians like Chuck Berry and Little Richard became
very popular!
Now I must caution my readers that thousands of feature films got  released during this eventful decade in Hollywood.
To cover them all within this limited space becomes an impossible
task, which may kindly be understood !
However, I shall try to do so in a summarized form as best as I could.

BOX OFFICE HITS YEAR-WISE FROM 1950 To 1959 :
Top Ten Year-Wise hit films chronologically are: Cinderella (1950),
Quo Vadis, The Greatest Show on Earth, Peter Pan, Rear Window,
Lady and the *****, Ten Commandments, Bridge on the River
Kwai, South Pacific, and Ben-Hur of 1959.

However Taking The Entire Decade Of 1950s Collectively,
The Top Films Get Rated As Follows Respectively:
The Ten Commandments, followed by Lady and the *****, Peter Pan, Sleeping Beauty, Bridge on the River Kwai, Around the World in Eighty Days, This is Cinerama, The Greatest Show on Earth, Rear Window, South Pacific, The Robe, Giant, Seven Wonders of the World, White Christmas, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, Sayonara, Demetrius and the Gladiator, Peyton Place, Some Like It Hot, Quo Vadis, and Auntie Mame.

Film Debuts By Rising Stars During The 1950s :
The decade of the ‘50s saw a number of famous film stars making
their first appearance.
There was Peter Sellers in ‘The Black Rose’, Marlon Brando in
‘The Men’, and actress Sophia Loren in ‘Toto Tarzan’.
Following year saw Charles Bronson in ‘You Are in the Navy Now’,
Audrey Hepburn in ‘Our Wild Oats’, and Grace Kelly, the future
Princess of Monaco, in her first film ‘Fourteen Hours’. (1951)
While **** Brigitte Bardot appeared in 1952 movie ‘Crazy for Love’; and 1953 saw Steve Mc Queen in ‘******* The Run’.
Jack Lemon, Paul Newman, and Omar Sharif featured in films
during 1954.
The following year saw Clint Eastwood, Shirley Mc Lean, Walter
Matthau, and Jane Mansfield, all of whom the audience adored.
The British actor Michael Cain appeared in 1956; also Elvis Presley
the youth icon in ‘Love Me Tender’ and as the future Rock and Roll
King!
In 1957 came Sean Connery, followed by Jack Nicholson, Christopher Plummer, and Vanessa Redgrave.
While the closing decade of the ‘50s saw James Coburn, along with
director, script writer, and producer Steven Spielberg, make their
debut appearance.

Deaths During The 1950s: This decade also saw the death of actors
like Humphrey Bogart, Tyron Power and Errol Flynn.
Including the death of producer and director of epic movies the
renowned Cecil B. De Mille!
Though I have conclude the Golden Age of Hollywood with the 50’s Decade,
The glitz and glamour of its Oscar Awards continue even to this day.
With its red carpet and lighted marquee appeal and fashion display!

CONTINUING THE HOLLYWOOD STORY WITH FEW TITBITS :
From Fort Lee of New Jersey we have travelled west to Hollywood,
California.
From the silent movie days to the first ‘talking picture’ with Warren
Bros’ film ‘The Jazz Singer’.  (06 Oct 1927)
On 31st July 1928 for the first time the audience heard the MGM’s
mascot Leo’s mighty roar!
While in July 1929 Warren Bros’ first all-talking and all- Technicolor
Film appeared titled - ‘On With The Show’.
Austrian born Hedy Lamarr shocked the audience appearing **** in a Czechoslovak film ‘Ecstasy’!  (1933)
She fled from her husband to join MGM, becoming a star of the
‘40s and the ‘50s.
The ‘Private Life of Henry VII’ became the first British film to win the  American Academy Award.  (1933)
On 11Dec 1934, FOX released ‘Bright Eyes’ with Shirley Temple,
who became the first Child artist to win this Award!
While in 1937 Walt Disney released the first full animated feature
film titled - ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarf ‘.
The British film director Alfred Hitchcock who came to
Hollywood later;
Between 1940 and 1947, made great thrillers like 'Rebecca', ‘Notorious’, ‘Rear Window’, and ‘Dial M for ******’.
But he never won an Oscar as a Director!

THE GOLDEN GLOBE AWARD:
This award began in 1944 by the Foreign Correspondence Association at
the 20th Century Fox Studio.
To award critically acclaimed films and television shows, by awarding a
Scroll initially.
Later a Golden Globe was made on a pedestal, with a film strip around it.
In 1955 the Cecil B. De Mille Award was created, with De Mille as its first
recipient.

THE GRAMMY AWARD:
In 1959 The National Academy of Recording and Sciences sponsored the
First Grammy Award for music recorded during 1958.
When Frank Sinatra won for his album cover ‘Only The Lonely’, but he
did not sing.
Among the 28 other categories there was Ella Fitzgerald, and Count Basie
for his musical Dance Band Performance.
There was Kingston Trio’s song ‘Tom Dooly’, and the ‘Chipmunk Song’,
which brings back nostalgic memories of my school days!

CONCLUDING HOLLYWOOD STORY  WITH STUDIOS OF THE 1950s

Challenge Faced by the Movie Industry:
Now the challenge before the Movie Industry was how to adjust to the
rapidly changing conditions created by the growing TV Industry.
Resulting in loss of revenue, with viewers getting addicted to
their Domestic TV screen most conveniently!

The late 1950s saw two studios REPUBLIC and the RKO go out of business!
REPUBLIC from 1935- ‘59 based in Los Angeles, developed the careers of
John Wayne and Roy Rogers, and specializing in the Westerns.
RKO was one of the Big Five Studios of Hollywood along with Paramount,
MGM, 20th Century Fox, and Warner Brothers in those days.

RKO Studio which begun with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers in the ‘30s,
included actress Katherine Hepburn who holds the record for four Oscars
even to this day;
And later had Robert Mitchum and Carry Grant under an agreement.
But in 1948, RKO Studio came under the control Howard Hughes the
temperamental Industrialist.
Soon the scandal drive and litigation prone RKO Studio closed, while
other Big Four Studios had managed to remain afloat!


PARAMOUNT STUDIO:
Paramount Studio split into two separate companies in 1950.
Its Theatre chain later merged with ABC Radio & Television Network;
And they created an independent Production/Distribution Network.
Bing Crosby and Bob Hope had been Paramount’s two biggest stars.
Followed by actors like Alan Ladd, William Holden, Jerry Lewis, Dean
Martin, Charlton Heston, and Dorothy Lamour.
They also had the producer/director Cecil B. De Mille producing high-
grossing Epics like ‘Samson & Delilah’ and ‘The Ten Commandments’.
Also the movie maker Hal Wallis, who discovered Burt Lancaster and
Elvis Presley - two great talents!

20th CENTURY FOX:
Cinema Scope became FOX’s most successful technological innovation
with its hit film ‘The Robe’. (1953)
Its Darryl Zanuck had observed during the early ‘50s, that audience  
were more interested in escapist entertainments mainly.
So he turned to FOX to musicals, comedies, and adventure stories.
Biggest stars of FOX were Gregory Peck & Susan Hayward; also
stars like Victor Mature, Anne Baxter, and Richard Wind Mark.
Not forgetting Marilyn Monroe in her Cinema Scope Box Office hit
movie - ‘How to Marry a Millionaire’, which was also shown on
prime time TV, as a romantic comedy film of 1953.

WARREN BROTHERS:
During 1950 the studio was mainly a family managed company with
three brothers Harry, Albert, and Jack Warren.
To meet the challenges of that period, Warren Bros. released most of
its actors like James Cagney, Humphrey Bogart, Oliver de Havilland, -
Along with few others from their long-term contractual commitments;
Retaining only Errol Flynn, and Ronald Regan who went on to become
the future President.
Like 20th Century Fox, Warren Bros switched to musicals, comedies,
and adventure movies, with Doris Day as its biggest musical star.
The studio also entered into short term agreements with Gary Copper,
John Wayne, Gregory Peck, Patricia Neal, and Random Scott.
Warren Bros also became the first major studio to invest in 3-D
production of films, scoring a big hit with its 3-D  suspense thriller
‘House of Wax’ in 1953.

MINOR STUDIOS were mainly three, - United Artists, Columbia, and
The Universal.
They did not own any theatre chain, and specialized in low-budgeted
‘B’ Movies those days.
Now to cut a long story short it must be said, that Hollywood finally
did participate in the evolution of Television industry, which led to
their integration eventually.
Though strategies involving hardware development and ownership of
broadcast outlets remained unsuccessful unfortunately.
However, Hollywood did succeed through program supply like prime-
time series, and made-for-TV films for the growing TV market making
things more colorful!
Thus it could be said that the TV industry provided the film industry
with new opportunities,  laying the groundwork for its diversification
and concentration;
That characterized the entertainment industry during the latter half  
of our previous century.
I must now confess that I have not visited the movie theatre over the last
two decades!
I watch movies on my big screen TV and my Computer screen these days.
Old classical movies are all available on ‘You Tube’ for me, and I can watch
them any time whenever I am free!
Thanks for reading patiently, - Raj Nandy.
**ALL COPYRIGHTS ARE WITH THE AUTHOR RAJ NANDY OF NEW DELHI
Styles Mar 2016
The aching she endures
in her waking
feelings of her body quaking
to sounds of his voice
she quivers

Excitement racing through her veins like lightening
An unbearable desire rushing through her so exciting
entranced by his spell, his words so enticing
with his pleasure
she welcomes his pain
feels like torture.
she yearns for more
her body aching for his taking
her fantasies
he made belief
engorging her soul
her urges
he feeds
with his selfish needs
either way they are
both left, pleased.
MBJ Pancras Dec 2011
(My daughter Suzanna Christy dance on 15th August 2011)
                  
I saw her dancing thro’ the peep hole of my heart,
My person was marooned beyond her person,
She called me thro’ the autumnal breeze,
And I was caught in the stormy wind within.
It was the day that she’d been called for a dance,
And the stage had been breathing fragrance and excitement;
Yet here I was caged not to fly out to witness her dance.
I let my soul float on its wings reaching her dancing arena.
My soul watched her dance ‘midst of tiny blooms,
And she looked the dazzling star of the cosmic garden.
Her jingling steps thrilled my soul and I shouted in joy,
The fluttering of her eye lashes pinched my excitement,
The melody born of heart travelled thro’ her tongue
Reminded of my joy born when she’d uttered ‘Dad’.
Her mom too was in the cradle of joy, yet far from her presence
And she’d been writing words of joy in her heart
For the little fragrant dance had traversed into her soul.
We’d imbibed joy ineffable when we watched her dance with our souls.
For she‘s always God’s Gift unto us to live in joy.
My daughter's dance in the school on Indian Independence Day celebrations.
What if excitement is going out
and hoping to find something or someone
you've never found before?

What if you've already found them?
Where does the excitement go then?
Is it over?
Mahdiya Patel Jul 2015
Someone was once able to create a chemical excitement within me//

Like when I looked at him I could see the power radiating from inside his skin//

And when he looked at me I could feel his stare in the deepest part of my gut//

Or when he touched me the power fled from his skin to mine //

Or when our lips met I could feel the electricity burning my flesh in the most beautiful way//

And when he said my name
The words rushed out of his mouth to create artworks in the air above us

Consisting of the most vibrant colors

causing a rush of energy flowing through my blood stream//

Someone was once able to create a synthetic exhilaration within me//
signs that my mind isnt living. I'm not awake. An insatiable taste for lavish and excitement. something new, no rules nor requirements. Carpe diem to the fullest so I can say I was alive. that I lived, that I dreamed.  Dreaming of dreams bigger than my town, the city downtown where the lights are pretty I want to look up and have a breath in the night air. Gaping at the lights. The lights I dreamt of seeing when I became alive.
Iona Betts Sep 2015
Is it excitement in my mind
That makes me do a little dance at night
That makes me see a bright calming future
Or are those tingles in my stomach alive
Is it excitement in my mind
That makes me glow with happiness
No it's too good to be true
My belly gets big
My feet are swelling
Not much sickness
Although that bourbon did sit badly at the top of my throat
I JUST CAN'T WAIT
Or is it excitement in my mind
Swords and Roses Nov 2015
lifted up inside
eyes and mouth widely grinning
hands clap together
anticipation rising
going through the whole body
Piyush Gahlot Jul 2018
I don't know why,
My feelings have died,
I am a ******' rock,
May be I have felt too much,
That I started to feel nothing.

Nothing seems new,
Nothing appears exciting.
May be this just happens with age,
Or may be I am just too bored of everything.
Everything feels less, everything feels void.

Morning breeze is chilling no more,
Rain doesn't wet me anymore,
Holi appears colourless,
Diwali not so illuminating any more.
Festivals now only means a holiday.
Outings are not so exciting.
***** doesn't effect me much.

What is it , does that happens with everyone or is it just me.!?
Where's all that excitement gone,?
Life has become monotonous and everything is blown!

What I need is a CHANGE.!
Monotonous routine
Jennifer Wolfe Sep 2018
MOMENTS OF MOMENTS
LONGING FOR HIS TOUCH
CLOSENESS OF OUR BODIES
FEELINGS WE HUNGER FOR SO MUCH

WHISPERS OF A BREEZE
TICKLING SIDE OF MY EAR
SENSATION RISES MY CHEST BUMPS
WITH FEELING OF WANTING HIM MORE

AS WE START TO PLAY
HE GUIDES ME IN A WAY
WHERE HE LAYS HIS LIPS ONTO MINE
AND THE PLEASURE IS  RECITED ALL DAY

FINGERS TRACE THE LINES
OF BLACK SILK ON MY SKIN
SLOWLY HE PULLS THEM DOWN
WITH A RISE OF EXCITEMENT STIRRING DEEP WITHIN

I STAND THERE COMPLETELY BARE
PEAKS AT A RISE
THE WAY THAT HE KISSES ME
AS I STARE INTO HIS EYES

VULNERABLE AND EXPRESSED
THE WAY HE LOOKS AT ME
I START TO FEEL COMPLETE
BECAUSE HE SAYS TO ME

“YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL MY LOVE”
“I COULD STARE AT YOU ALL DAY”
“NEVER COVER UP”
“AND NEVER BE ASHAMED”

WITH YOUR HANDS INTO MINE
RIGHT WHERE THEY BELONG
PRESSED UP BESIDE ME
FEEL OF HIS ARMS SO STRONG

OUR BODYS GLIDE TOGETHER
I CAN’T EVER GET ENOUGH
MOVEMENT FROM HIS CENTER
GIVING IT TO ME NICE AND ROUGH

ACTIONS FROM OUR MOVEMENTS
EXPLANATION NOT IN NEED
MOTIONS FROM OUR FANTASIES
I’M BEGGING TO BE FREED

THE GLIDE OF HIS PASSION
EXPRESSED TO ME EVERYTHING
LEAVES ME FEELING FAINTLY EMPTY
SO SATISFIED AND DRAINED

THE TENDER KISSES HE PLACES
ON THE SKIN BETWEEN MY THIGHS
TRACING OF HIS FINGERS
STROKING IN AND OUT OF MY INSIDES

AMAZING ELECTRIC WAVES
AS I CONTINUE TO BEG FOR MORE
WRAPPED IN HIS ARMS
MY BODY EXHAUSTED, PAINFULLY WORE

THE SHADOWS OF OUR BEINGS
GIVES THE WALLS A LITTLE SHOW
WITH THE PASSIONATE MOTIONS WE DEMONSTRATE
IN A RHYTHM WE ALL KNOW


                                                            -BY JENNIFER WOLFE
REALLY DON'T KNOW WHAT ANYONE THINKS OF MY WRITING.  IS IT ANY GOOD?
Jamie Riley Apr 2018
They look out from the terrace.

At the borders of sight
live rocky hills behind brown
and golden and olive crop
under a cloudless sky.

Sun beams brighten motley roofs
on tessellations which blacken beige
in blurry air.



























BANG!





















An artificial cloud.

































“Look,” she points, “Let’s go!”

She takes him and they fly down stairs,
diving like sparrows
into the street.

Boys sprint across pavements and climb;
men vault over fences in time
for news to reach ears.

“They’re coming!
"¡Ya vienen!"

Excitement and fear.

The rattling of cow bells
and galloping nears.

Men bait and dodge horns
and escape through doors
and up and over
red wooden bars.

Sticks beat on the concrete ground
and drive the mute beasts's sounds.

Seconds away –
until the last,
he side steps into a house;

indoors,

apart,

he runs through the foyer
and up the stairs
around a corner.

Long strides

too fast to follow.

She chooses left and
sings soprano
when doors won't budge
and
       a
           beast
                      crashed
                                       in.

She turns and the fear is paralysing.


"FERMIN!"






















He hurdles the stares
and explodes
when it rams her
to and fro,
thrashing her head
against the wall
where horns
sin and gore
cement and brick.

He clasps the tail
and heaves its hide from
side to side as
hooves smash
crates of wine -
they slip and slide
in fractured glass,
he finds a horn
and yanks the head!
He's yanked instead
half dead before the men
arrive down stairs
to punch and kick it;
strike and stick it
smack and hit it;
'til it
fits and quits
and flees the foyer,
fast and frantic,
flying flustered
by the frenzy,
finally finding
pattering

pavement

It


peters


off


into





the







street.





"¿Que ha pasado?
  ¿Quien ha sido?
  ¡El Balbotin
  y la Chicha!
  ¡Que una vaca
  les ha pillado!"





Hands bleed
and flesh breathes.

"¿Estas bien?"

Dizzy, she tends to him
with searching hands,
and scolding words.

"Podria haber sido peor"
This poem is about an incident which happened to my Grandparents, Fermin Yanguas Ochoa and Raimunda Ramos Frias.

It was during a bull run in their village (Fitero) in Navarra, Northern Spain. 1972
Poetic Artiste Jul 2014
Simple words escape ever so parted lips
Voices of the sweetest seduction
My undeniable weakness
“I want you”
Whispers of the finest intentions

The warmth of your breath brushes across my ear
Fingertips glide down the shapeliest of curves
Caressing jewels
Excitement builds
Moans escape...
Drenched in the sweetest place

Passion
Inhale, Exhale
The deadliest of pleasures
My needs, your wants
All accounting for desperate measures

Start, Stop
Location is no matter
Subtract clothes
Divide legs
I speak in tongues your body loves to hear
Tracing lines in ways you cannot manage to bear

I am the worst of teasers.
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2017
Yom Kippur this year was celebrated on Oct. 12th 2016.
Leonard Cohen passed away on November 7, 2016.


~~~

faint knocking at the door to the Tower of Song

the ministering angels, hearing a rhythmic, lyrical rapping,
sigh, thinking the atonement day,
the holiday/holy days, are supposedly over,
the human balancing act, the rush to judgement period,
all tallies totaled, the busy sale season for souls,
at last completed, each fate inscribed & sealed,
in the book of life^

but, always one,
the itinerant straggler, the last reluctant sinner, a judgment resister,
flaunting an expired coupon, trumpeting demands for a recount,
waving it, claiming it, the bearer, entitled to a mercy discount and
an extra 30 days

"who shall we say is calling?"

the Angels are stunned to hear,
a familiar raspy, growling, almost indescribable,
yet, stammeringly, beautiful voice enchanting,
equally asking and answering,  how both,
with a strident humility, "a man in search of answers"

this voice, instantaneous recognizable,
the asking superfluous,
all beating wings now, all in vast excitement,
this psalmist, long awaited, one of His best,
a chosen one, a courtly singer in the Temple of his people,
blessed with the curse of seeing and believing,
the comprehension of beauty of the human superior interior,
never being quiet or quite satisfied,
in capturing, its multifarious variations,
in every language spoken

this is the man who took ten years
to compose just
one song,
one poem,
one word,
Hallelujah,
whose faith was strong,
but still needed proofs,
whose every breath of oxygen inhalation,
brought more questions,
every exhalation, only releasing partial answers,
and yet, still, yes, yes! finding hidden verses inside

a simple, everlasting
hallelujah

the hubbub subsides, the man sings~speaks:
how came I here,
was I one, who by fire?
that fire afeared,  that my finality was spirit consumer?

one voice, answers,
in one voice, the swaying back-up singers answer,
not by fire, not by water, not by stoning or
even drowning
in tea that came from all the way from China

when sing we Angels, the Judgement Day poem,
we alone, on high and above,
we, keepers of the books and records of everyone,
are permitted this to query:

Who by Sufficiency?

you, the sidekick of the creator,
special commissioned by him, anointed to live a life of research,
record in word and song the mysteries of musical gene strings,
that intertwine the skin cells of man and woman,
man and his fellow us-human,
your soul commandeered, ordered, delve deeper,
into the consolable chasm tween divine and mortals,
all those who are poorly constructed
in his image

he, who has earned his place, his best rest,
his works adjudged sufficient,
he, who best answered
this judging,
this calling out,
calling in
incantation,

Who by Sufficiency?

now forward on, write only of answers,
wade in the troubled waters no more,
no more passports, or borders to cross,
no more measuring the days,
the last road trip finale
finished & feted,
fate meted

no more changing thy name, changeling priest,^^
sing songs of solution, salvation,
for the questioning hours of confusion,
the urgency of revolution,
no longer need a hallelujah resolution


                                                    ­| | |
Who By Fire                             Who By Fire, Who By Water:^
(lyrics by Leonard Cohen)     (A Yom Kippur Hebrew Prayer)

who by fire                             How many shall die and      

who by water,                                how many shall born,
Who in the sunshine,                 Who shall live      
who in the night time,                   who shall die,                      
Who by high                                Who at the measure of days,
who by common trial,                    and who before,
Who in your merry                            
                                                          Who by fire
month of May,                                 and who by water
Who by very                                 Who by sword,
slow decay,                                       and who by wild beasts,
And who shall I                      Who by hunger,
say is calling?                              and who by thirst,

And who in her,                           Who by earthquake
lonely slip,                                         and who by plague
who by barbiturate,                      Who by strangling,
Who in these                                    and who by stoning
realms of love,                               Who shall have rest,

who by,                                             and who shall go wandering,
something blunt,                            Who will be tranquil,
And who by avalanche,                  and who shall be harassed,
who by powder,                            Who shall be at ease,
Who for his greed,                           and who shall be afflicted,
who for his hunger,                      Who shall become rich,
And who shall I,                             and who shall become poor,
say is calling?                                Who will be raised high,
                                                         ­     and who will be brought low
And who by brave assent,                  
who by accident,
Who in solitude,
who in this mirror,
Who by,
his lady's command,
who by his own hand,
Who in mortal chains,
who in power,
And who shall I,
say is calling?




^From the liturgy of Rosh Hasanah, the Jewish New Year and Yom Kippur, the  Day of Atonement, there is this truly stunning prayer (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unetanneh_Tokef) in the Jewish liturgy. The Book of Life contents the fate of every sinner. From the first day of the new year, until ten days later, on Yom Kippur, depending on whether the sinner repents or not, his fate is sealed.
Yom Kippur this year was celebrated on Oct. 12th 2016.

Leonard Cohen passed away on November 7, 2016.

^^"A Kohens ancestors were priests in the Temple of Jerusalem. A single such priest was known as a Kohen, and the hereditary caste descending from these priests is collectively known as the Kohanim.[2] As multiple languages were acquired through the Jewish diaspora, the surname acquired many variations." Today, with no temple, the limited role of the Kohanim is to bless the Jewish people on the high holy days with a  special prayer with abeloved tune,  instantly evocative (see wikipedia.org/wiki/Priestly_Blessing) The Kohanim are still revered, honored, and always called up first to the Sabbath reading of the weekly portion of the Old Testament

A thank you to Bex for proofing and encouragement.
Part I of a trilogy
For a  more detailed analysis of the roots of the song, "Who By Fire," and its origins, see:
_____________________________________________
http://www.leonardcohen-prologues.com/who_by_fire.htm

He worked on the song Hallelujah, arguably his most famous composition, for ten years.
Meg Kyffin Jan 2012
In excitement,
What's been said is said.
Unspoken whispers which hide so deep,
Plague the mind.
Diseases included in imaginary tales,
Wishes which shall never become true,
Fade into the shadows.
Turn back time,
Relive the moment,
Make changes.
**** distances,
Make miles seem like metres.
Spaces should be filled,
Shadow of love shimmers,
Behind the one who waits,
Dreams offer fulfilment.
That never comes.
Drew Vincent Jul 2018
I imagine myself with you, M.
I can see myself,  happy with you.

I can picture us on our first date,
laughing so hard we hold onto each other for support.
I can picture us walking together,
admiring all the local shops and galleries our town has to offer.
I can picture us holding hands,
and you holding me as we gaze out at sea.
I can picture us snorkeling together,
and how you'll laugh when I inevitably breathe in the ocean.
I can picture us kissing for the first time,
how our eyes will meet,
and how our hearts will explode with excitement.
I can picture us kissing,
and how our bodies will melt into one.
I can picture myself falling asleep next to you,
and how peaceful I will feel when I wake up beside you.

Most importantly,

I can picture myself falling in love with you.
How wonderful life will be with you to share it with.
I will chase these butterflies forever if it brings me closer to you.
Tonight!
Oh what sweet splendors
of travel that pour themselves out and over me!
Not to exotic lands,
but to those far better
the square foot of land that lays beneath us
when I am wrapped in your arms!
My bag is not packed,
there are gifts to be made,
things to be set in order
But just 10 hours!
10 hours after two months!
And I will be yours once again

The excitement,
the rapture,
one week of playing house with you
in the hot summer breezes
of Western Ohio
flat land,
so different from my home, from what I like
but what does it matter?
In your arms, the place could be bent and folded
painted in the wondrous colors of strata
Rose, gold, deep blacks and shimmering veins
of ground water spurting forth.
Pretty shell fossils
and pink quartz
they all exist in your eyes,
in your arms,
in your kiss
To take my hands the way you do
and tie them tight behind,
I know by looking in your eyes
that to use me you’re intending.
What plan my sir do you have now
I never quite am knowing,
your mind is open to my look
yet a hidden secret’s pending.

Something new I cannot know
the wildest of surprises,
of causing sweetest suff’ring now
and intensifying wanting.
I sense my flow before you have
****** the last knot tightly,
and shudder with excitement in
your fingers deeply finding.

Trembling now and needing
to ****** myself against you,
you know how I do badly want
your deepest pleasure of me.
Your mouth comes down and
brushes mine with touch electrifying
I raise myself to taste you more
but in teasing you’re denying.

Instead you lift your fingers wet
and make me ******* juices,
I lick and **** myself in need
to know I’m ready for you.
We both devour just what I am
your **** who knows herself now
wanting to be disciplined
and used in ways you know how.

A blindfold now so softly closed
heightening of other senses
yet I trust you to take care
of all I am and here laid bare.
A gag is pressed close to my mouth
I open wide to take it
wanting so to please you now
and drive my own excitement.

Now your loving hands are gone
your body heat not beside me
instead I feel another here
fresh hands that soft caress me.
I tense and stiffen of myself
not knowing who this might be
yet in trust I have of you
this is but pleasure for me.

The hands so new in roaming me
exploring all I am now
no protest can I make to you
for I am what you make me.
To know soft fingers probing deep that
rouse me in such flowing
of wanting who this lover is
to force me into knowing.

I sense they are a woman’s hands,
no other could be doing,
of finding places in my soul that
make for such arousing.
I scent her softly warming skin
and hair that brushes ‘gainst me,
a woman is so very different
to that which a man ‘ere could be.

Soft teeth that find my *******
bite with lightest torture
closing hard to make me scream
were it not for gag that’s silencing.
I care not who this woman is
but that she uses me so
and forces me to melt in such a way
that allows me to be so free.

I sense that you are watching
that we two are pleasing you
the creature warm that you have brought
to bring me further pleasure.
But now I am so lost in her
and melt in liquid flowing
her tender hands that now
are finding my body’s treasure.

Her lips meet mine so openly
around the gag that silence keeps
and traces down my throat
brushing with soft caress.
My hands so bound that she
may do with me as pleases her
as down by body follows line
of kisses to her wild desire.

And then her mouth so burrows in
and begins to drink of me,
tongue finding that my body is
responding in wild full flow.
Nothing now can stop my rise
wanting fingernails to grip my thighs
to part them wide for her to reach
deeper inside than e’er I knew.

We lift together she and I
unseen I sense her raging urge,
as we ride the tide atop this surge.
Now just we two are held within
oblivious to but our driving needs
that builds and builds till we know
the ****** that consumes us both
in screams of mutual clasping joy.

*

From the Francesca Anderssen collection of 101 **** Verses 2016
I write novels and verse from my heart, reflecting my own lifestyle, where loving is between two people who care deeply for one another, and give in the fullest sense of the word.
In my writing there is no place for that which is not desired, no matter how it might present to those who do not know.

Crits very welcome---good or bad. I can only tailor my writing to my readers if I know what they enjoy reading about
The Francesca Anderssen book of **** verse  (101 ****** poems)  is available on Amazon in Kindle and paperback
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00VU4CPCG/
together with my **** novel Need
Frankie Gestone Mar 2013
He woke up in a rapid sweat, darkness surrounding him, his soaked pillow was pressing up on his neck as he could feel the uncomfortable stabbing cold run right threw his whole body. His mouth was dry and his body was in great pain. He lay there practically naked, but not just physically, also emotionally. It was like a catatonic state where the person’s body is paused in reality, but the actual person is far away and isolated even from himself. He wondered why he was so comfortable being uncomfortable and remaining frozen in time.  He saw nothing but the subtle moonlight that peaked through the blinds of his window. A point of existence, he feels nothing because all he has ever felt has drowned him. His numbness was being accepted and he embraced that if he remained this way, he would never have to feel hurt or heartbreak again. It’s better this way, he confirmed.

Eventually he got up out of his bed, walked outside to a nearby empty field. He looked up at the infinite night sky and contemplated the moon, the stars, and the endless space that sustained all of its existence. A tear fell down his cheek as he remembered the beautiful wonder of life and the universe; his realization that he is just a small spec of dust compared to all that is and all that is wonderful. Whatever happened to that universal happiness he used to feel? The feelings of the unseen, the cosmos, the mysteries that remain unsolved were all love. He then felt ancient and brand new at the same time-always being around all that is, but recently born into the unknown. The silence of the night swarmed him, and he suddenly embraced all the things he could not accept. The lullaby of the wind put him to sleep.

When he awoke, it was twilight. The sky was a lighter, deep blue and the sun in the far distance was rising in a fiery halo of mixed red, orange, and yellow colors, and the early morning clouds were clear and transparent. He heard the sound of a train horn in the far distance. He followed the sound with his ears as the sound became slightly louder and louder. Then, suddenly he could see the light of the early morning train.

The train had stopped as he approached it, and he hopped on with no hesitation or looking back. This runaway train was going to take him to where he needs to be, and he blindly and faithfully accepted that his fate was out of his hands now. No more heartbreak, no more reminders of the past, and most importantly no more drowning in his tears. As the train proceeded to move forward, he could feel fresh air gently touch his face, and all that he saw and ever knew were now flashing lights disappearing into eternity.

It was hours into the late morning when the train made its first stop. He listened to the train conductor speak out over the intercom, almost incoherently, say, “This is Brightstone Park. Next stop will be Riverhead.” A nostalgic feeling suddenly came over him as he could remember that his very first kiss was in Brightstone Park with Jessica Garzi. That was not his first true love, but his very first heartbreak. Riverhead was a forbidden memory, as he knew a classmate who had committed suicide off the Riverhead Bridge. He had not returned there in five years because of his haunting memories that would always come back to remind him just how cold and frightening the world really is.

While lost in thought, he felt a rough, sand paper-like wet feeling on his forearm. He looked down and it was a black cat, but not all black. The paws were all white like socks, and the chest and stomach were snow white. The loud prominent purr was a very peculiar reminder of a cat he once owned. Her name was Midnight. She was not the friendliest cat to strangers, but she loved him, especially when he massaged her paws. This cat was practically identical to Midnight. Midnight was put down three years ago though. As he began petting the cat’s back, it ran away and jumped off the moving train. He looked out in a hurry, but it was gone. It was just like everything else he loved. There for one moment, then gone the next. The strange thought that has one wondering if anything had actually existed that is now no more. A person, or a thing, could mean everything to you, but once they slip away, they become like the wind: occasionally brushing up against you, but never revealing its form.

On the train he began to wonder how he got where he was, and in general how the smallest decisions he made lead to bigger events and all in all, everything was all connected. There are no isolated events, or isolated people- it is all proven fact and science. Everything depends on each other to survive. The trees depend on the sun to keep themselves alive; we give off carbon dioxide to the trees and in return, we receive the oxygen we need from the leaves of the trees. He thought about the potential of a seed-for example, a tomato seed. Within that tiny seed is unlimited potential of life: The seed may produce one plant of several tomatoes, and within all those tomatoes are countless other seeds. This is all from one seed. Then, one may take a couple of seeds from a picked tomato and plant them throughout the yard creating a garden. That original seed came from another tomato seed inside a tomato on a plant, and that seed came from another seed. When did this cycle of reproduction begin and when does it end? Is it just another form of the infinite? When a person eats a tomato from that original seed, he receives certain essential vitamins his body needs for surviving and sustaining good health. This good health will effect his offspring and so on and so on. When he defecates, that will all return to the earth for potential fertilizer used for other tomato seeds. This is the same when he returns to the earth again. His dust will fertilize the same world that he came from, for all things come from it just to inevitably return to it.

He continued to think about how matter is never created nor destroyed and the same for energy. Nothing ever truly dies; the form changes into something new, like how water becomes a cloud and the cloud becomes water. Though this comforted him, he noticed that a few feet away from him was a former coworker and friend, Natasha Karev. She always infatuated him and they became close friends, but he always wished it had continued and gone even further than it did. One night, only a couple of years ago, they were at a friend’s party. Both were drinking, but not so heavily. That night they bonded and got so close, that she admitted she loved him. He was never quite sure how real that “I love you” was, but it was burned inside his heart ever since. That night there were moments she would tell him how much she wanted to make love to another guy at the party, Kevin, but was afraid to approach him. She told him she desperately wanted to lose her virginity that night to somebody because she was eighteen and only getting older. This was like a sharp knife slowly penetrating into his heart. He remained speechless for quite a few minutes. Finally he decided to go up in a bedroom alone. To his surprise, she followed him up and kissed him. He felt her clothed body up and down, and she touched areas not many have touched before. She told him she wanted to have *** and that she wanted him to rob her of her virginity. He was speechless, but extremely excited. Then, abruptly, she told him she could not because everything was happening way too soon. Why couldn’t she just make up her mind? He sat frustrated in the darkness, again, all alone. After that night, they spoke and remained close, yet that night was never mentioned again. It was as if it had never happened. After about two years of an on and off friendship, they just went their own ways. There were no fights or disagreements. Life just separated them.

“You’re just a figment inside somebody’s dream. So far from reality, you are a dream within a dream within a dream.” Startled by this soft voice, he quickly turned around to see Natasha smiling at him. “Ha-ha! I knew I could scare you. Were you abused as a kid, or something?” No words could come out at that moment, but he hugged her tightly. She explained to him that she is getting off at the next stop to meet a friend. He was sure he wanted to follow her and see where life would take him. She reminisced and told him how she had been away inside her own cave for several months, but is now very happy to meet up with everyone she had lost contact with.

The next stop arrived, but he did not catch the name of the stop he was getting off. As he got off with several others, both he and Natasha met up with her friend, Valeria, who he found quite cute. She resembled Natasha a bit in that they both had ***** blonde hair and blue eyes. They walked right into a giant street fair with a crowd of people looking at the foods and desserts, the trendy clothes, cheap jewelry, and children play rides.

As he looked around, he began seeing many familiar faces. He saw Kevin, a childhood and grammar school mate there with another co-worker of his, Jenny. Jenny was a Colombian beauty in his eyes and who was a flirt and tease to him, but never actually gave him any time alone. Incidentally, he knew both of them at different times in his life and had no idea they knew of each other. Kevin stopped contacting him during high school without any arguments or disloyalties that would tear a friendship apart. Keeping his head down, he walked a few feet to discover another childhood best friend, Jack, who was with a mutual childhood friend, Melanie. Melanie was a best friend of his and also a first childhood crush who also had a crush on him. He thought it was odd because even though Melanie and Jack were also best friends, Melanie never liked Jack in a special boy/girl way. He felt a moment of heartbreak, but quickly turned away and kept walking. A little further up the road, he saw two more childhood friends, Chris and Jimmy, who as children did not get along that well and only hung out with each other in the company of him. How peculiar it was suddenly seeing them together after ten years, and as seemingly best of friends.

That was not all. Things were getting stranger and stranger. It was like all the people who had made an imprint on his life were now coming together around him. He saw his two therapists, one he had gone to as a teenager and the other as a young adult, stand next to each other selling prescription drug samples. Both stared at him with a blank face, but with a prominent smile. He could barely nod at them. Natasha directed them to a local bar. Inside the bar was huge and also had a second floor. He noticed the music playing in the background was, Nocturne In E Flat Major, Op.9 No.2, by Polish born Romantic composer, Frederic Chopin. He became fixated on the elegant eighth note, left hand arpeggios, and the sweet and peaceful fast moving seven, eleven, twenty, and twenty-two notes from the right hand. If he thought about the most beautiful song ever written and all that is wonderful in one, this was the song.

They all took a seat and began looking at people and laughing at their behavior. Everyone was wearing masks. Social masks. They observed how different people act when they are in social gatherings, and how if you carefully study their body language, it will become clear that what they are saying and trying to put out is not what is actually being expressed through the body. One young man was frantically shaking his right leg as he tried to flirt confidently with a young woman he had just recently met. His face began to turn noticeably red, in an embarrassed flush, and he was making sudden hand gestures and quick eye blinking. She, on the other hand, pretended to be interested in what he was saying; yet her eyes would often look around the room and her body was a good distance from him with her arms folded.

Then as they were all laughing, he abruptly stopped and looked ahead to see two drunken women making out two tables away from them. As his eyes focused in on them, he realized they were two of his former crushes, Claire and Veronica, who he had no idea knew of each other because in fact, they were from different time periods of his life. He began seeing former teachers and professors from each stage of his school career, laughing hysterically with one another. Some of his most inspiring teachers and professors were gathered with other teachers and professors he despised. A young, tattooed hipster woman entered the scenery with a little Cairn Terrier that had an uncanny resemblance to his recently passed dog, Petey, who was put to sleep when he was away on a vacation, unexpectedly. His sorrow began to overwhelm him for not being able to say good-bye and see him for a proper last time. Everything about the dog’s high energy, playfulness, and watchdog attitude was exactly like Petey. A tear ran and fell off his cheek from his left eye right into the hand of Natasha. He looked up at her and she said, “Your tears are my tears. For what pain you withhold, I take and share with you.” She then wiped her right eye with the hand that held his tear. Natasha’s friend began to speak slowly into his left ear in Russian. Though he could not understand a word she was saying, it sounded just like a poem based on the pattern and rhythm’s consistency. It made him feel free of melancholy, but then thought of Angela Antonaci entered his mind.

He thought that the last painful experience ended with the break up of his closest best friend ever to play a part in his life. She was his girlfriend for the last three and a half years. They had known each other for ten years before they broke up their entire relationship. She was thirteen and he was fifteen when they first met in a park. She was always all over him like a little schoolgirl and he would often get frustrated with her obsession over him, for he believed he was no big deal. She was the first person to ever make him feel special and important, and even though he would resent her likeness towards him, he could never keep his eyes off of her or stop himself from always coming to her when he felt lonely. After about seven years, he realized he was in love with her. He had always been in love with her from the first time they met eyes. His long road had always lead back to her home in life. Every time he tried forgetting her and moving on, they would meet again. That person people search their entire lives for, he had found.

He rose out of his seat and briefly said goodbye to Natasha and her friend and went upstairs. He wanted time to be alone and walk around until he suddenly saw Jessica walking towards him. He stopped and waited for her to say hello, but she walked right by him, as if he had never existed. He felt a little insulted, yet relieved as any awkwardness that would arise was avoided. Looking ahead, he saw Angela’s two best friends, Kate and Julie, with her high school crush, John. John was playing an acoustic guitar on a lounge chair, singing to the two friends, almost enticing them with his eyes and voice. His jealousy overcame him, as Angela had been infatuated with him on and off even though he had played with her feelings throughout high school and college. John would tell her he loved her and make her believe he was a romantic, then when she fell into his words, he would leave her and keep a distance for long periods of time, leaving her in despair.

The conclusion occurred to him that maybe she was nearby. He searched throughout the entire bar not finding any other clues that she was around. When he went downstairs, he saw Natasha and her friend asleep, as well as most of the bar, except for the bartender. It was like everyone just passed out from the alcohol or possibly inhaled some type of knockout drug. The bartender was watching the news forecast of a tornado watch and dangerous thunderstorms. The bartender looked at him and said, “It’s better if you stay in here. It’s dangerous out there. I recommend you don’t go out!” He just listened, but decided to leave to the outside anyway.

He walked three blocks through the heavy rain and strong winds. He took a moment to stop and look at the black and gray clouds above him. As he looked across the street, he saw her. She was with her mother, sister, and mutual friends of theirs, Chrystal and Mike. He also saw behind them, his own mother and sister. He ran across the street to her and she shockingly with excitement screamed, “Hey!!! Oh my God!! Please stay with us. I missed you so much. You have no idea. We have to get to a shelter away from this storm. Hold my hand…” Smiling, he kept walking with them. They walked for twenty minutes and entered a giant field. After ten minutes of walking restlessly through the field, they all stopped to catch their breath. Angela’s mom ordered everyone to hold one another’s hand. An enormous gust of wind pushed them all to the grassy ground. He began to shake violently as he felt the touch of death nearby. He wondered if this would be the end, as he felt unaccomplished and left with so much left unsaid to her. Thoughts raced through his mind like a speeding highway about how to get to safety. Unable to control and remain focused on one rational thought at a time, he blacked out for a minute.

Then there he was right in the middle of a storm. In so many ways, he realized where he was ending was where he originally began. All the imprints from all he ever knew came back all at once to watch him finally leave all he ever knew from this life. And in the last moments, he found himself with her. He held her hand, while she held his, and the hands of their family and friends. The world was so dark and cold. The wind became much more rapid and an enormous bright light from it came within just miles of them. He kept looking up at the dark black and gray clouds over them, never as frightened as he was now. His focus was on the great strength of the wind. Whatever melancholic thoughts he had of his life, he would not give up hope. Maybe he was just hopelessly hopeful, but holding each other tightly might, in some miraculous way, save them. Then suddenly a deep peace began to sustain his very being. He remembered whose hand he was holding- the only woman to ever understand every level of his being. He looked down at her big, precious eyes pouring out tears. Their eyes locked, as she had been watching him the entire time. No words needed to be said from one another. They knew exactly what they felt and meant. For the first time in his life, everything was all okay. All was beautiful. The whole situation was beautiful, not tragic. In that moment, he understood this was where he was meant to be. This was where he wanted to be, for only in such a life altering moment does one comprehend the very nature of love and life. To just glance into her eyes and see the same person staring back in suspense, while all he ever knew was being born, growing, and dying simultaneously in complete acceptance. They began to fade and disappeared into the light.
Hayley Schiete Apr 2015
If I could have anything, yet only one thing
I would wish to make 7:12 am an act I could
bless upon your body.

The hope intertwined with the tangerine sky
and the excitement that lies beyond.

A kiss that would make you glad to see the dawn,
and eager to lay with me at dusk.
day 8 of npm
a princess sits in her royal lounge
troubled at mind, restless of heart
trembling limbs and parched tongue
the rivers in her eyes betray
the sorrow that drowns her soul
with shaking fingers she struggles
for a firm grip on her quill
her heart pours out in fluid words
to express a love nursed for years

“My Lord, from childhood I have heard
of your courageous acts and kind character
of your handsomeness and perfectness
and I am unable to draw my mind away
from thoughts of you and yours
I am shamelessly besotted by you
Like a sunflower that is drawn to the sun
I am drawn to you
It is against the common notion
for a woman to ask a man
to take her hand in marriage
I break every tradition,
but Mukunda, answer my question-
which woman, high-born
and well-versed in all the arts,
will not wish to be your consort-
and besides I have already considered myself
wedded to you, in thought and spirit
is it not immoral then
when I consider myself a married woman
and when I am already yours
body, mind and soul,
to allow me another marriage?
My brother Rukmi has arranged
a marriage for me, and it is in the morrow
my heart sinks in sorrow
you are my saviour-
it behooves you to come
and claim what is yours
and how to accomplish it without needless bloodshed
need not cause you worry, for I have a plan
tomorrow morning I shall go for my pre-nuptial prayer
at the temple in the outskirts
away from curious eyes
and it is from there
that you can take me
please do come Krishna and save me
from this mockery of a marriage
I have already said that I am yours
and if you do not come, I shall
with no second thought ensure
that I am no longer alive
to be the object of another man’s desire
and if not in this birth, we shall
in another birth be man and wife”


she seals the letter with  burning tears
and entrusts in a priest’s willing hands to deliver
this receptacle of her hopes and fears
a sliver of hope begins to glimmer
as exhaustion finally takes over
and sleep beckons with gentle hands
to distant happier lands

In the morning she awakes
mind no more clouded or deluded
a faith unshaken that strengthens
as her messenger arrives
bearing happy news
her heart gladdens

Krishna will come – of that she is sure
a love denied will now be hers
the blush of excitement gives way
to shyness - kept so far at bay
the letter was written boldly enough
but now her maiden coyness asserts its sway
with eager pulsing heart she awaits
the moment of freedom and fastening
with her love – it seems too long a day!

In her best finery she is bedecked
a bride blossoming like a flower
eyes shining like diamonds
in their excitement
nocturnal hair that falls to her waist
in a tidy plait
lips tinged with a secret smile
an accompaniment to her glowing face
her blush spreads
like a rose amongst jasmines

with slow sure steps
and comely gait
eyes glistening with hope
and conviction strengthened with faith
she proceeds towards the temple
with sincere emotion she prays

“Devi Parvati, with your motherly grace
look upon me with your kind gaze
as once through penance you gained
your true love as a husband
I too embark today
on a quest to find my way
to him who is my very soul- I pray
let Krishna me my husband”


As every minute passes hope grows
and then she hears his majestic roar
like  a dark thunder-cloud he appears
his turmeric vestment blowing in the wind
and like lighting in the night sky
suddenly and nimbly he hoists her
onto his chariot and they are away

and then the powerful anticipation of this moment gave way
to its pure enjoyment, the company of the loved one

and thus it was that the unflinching Rukmini
wedded Krishna one day.

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
        10.9.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Ari Mar 2015
Anxiety
   Fear, uncomfortable
      Haunting, stalking, shaking
          Always following, mixing with every situation
       Laughing, dancing, loving
      Wonderful, desirable
 Excitement
Thia Jones Apr 2014
This is how it goes
your hands will be proxy for mine
my hands will be proxy for yours
your fingers my fingers
and my fingers yours
what I describe, you enact
told in detail so exact

Just to begin
I squeeze your *******
knead and pinch
tweak a ******
give it a tug

Stroke your tummy
work over your thighs
move up the inner
where skin is smooth
circle around, moving in
till soft contours are caressed
through pants that burn
to be removed
that pain you to wear
and I see in my mind
as you describe
the spreading, darkening patch
that fills the gusset

Now they're pulled down
removed quickly, completely
and you are revealed
spread, opened, shameless

Gentle fingertips tease
dance in circles, barely touching
yet the fire within grows
back and forth, round and round
dance the fingertips
as both reciprocate
with growing pace
and firmer touch

I hear you gasp down the line
and your breathing quickens
as you hear mine
as your excitement fuels mine
as mine fuels yours
in our feedback loop of lust

And I tell you how
my fingertip would give way
to tonguetip if I could
that I can taste you
in my imagination
fragrant, salty sweetness
with musky undertones
the tip of my tongue now circling
then flicking back and forth
beating out the rhythm
that you best harmonise with
bringing forth your moans

Then darting down, back
between wet, glistening folds
exploring each ridge and valley
working remorselessly

Breathing faster now
with animal grunts and moans
directions of pleasure gasped
breathless down the phone

As fingers again
take the lead
find the opening
slip readily within
probe, explore, ****
find that place
on your front wall
yes, just that spot
that's a little rougher
and feels sooo goood

Add a second finger
working and *******
licking and rubbing
moaning and gasping
barely intelligible now
...yess...more...yess...ohhh
are all that have meaning

Finger three joins one and two
then the pressure builds
demanding release
and shaking and thrusting
grows to shuddering
and...yes...yesss...sooo clooose

******* faster furiously
till we both explode
hearing each other's
voicing of our ecstasy
in language intelligible
only in this one context

Brains and voices return
as we bask in the afterglow
and what passes between us then
in those moments
is the deepest intimacy of all

Cynthia Pauline Jones 01/02/2014
Connor Apr 2018
-I-

Adoration-
Somnambulists cast
paradise magic, allowing a thimble to fall
upon the floor of our private heaven
(a perfect disquiet to our loving)

We daily reveal our reclusive
sensitivities, a flash (a lowered head, laughing distinctly)
Trailing close behind German poets/path of devotion, a second summit of their passionate influence, rippling generations ago now:

(vineyards caught by grasping suddenness/placating daytime/fig & flame/false tower of Babel, ornamental ruin/he feels owed the sensations of an active spirit, to repent the contrary forces within him/myself)

-II-
                      & upon my reflection in the Cabaret of Hell,
I see a gate perched at the base of my wondrous
Sehnsucht-apparition

                    BLUE MOON                 WALLFLOWER

(or perhaps the other way around?)

Overtaken by oscillating darkness/hall of mirrors (memories)
distorted flashbulb *** and anger

until the acts become indistinguishable from themselves/doubly
******* tigers brushstroked in animal blood... essence of devour/temper/
captivation, incredible lips, pulp teeth, pure excitement all disfigured
& joyous

-III-

My azzurine goddess, faced away in
shame, no wonder why!

(hair let down in a drowsy spill of
uncertain hours, wavering in a sullen high, thickly feeling,
the immensity/pleasure renounced for a cabbalist subliminity)

Mockery of the dead dead dog/blind in boyhood/while
curious ghosts skate across the ice-peripheral of our dreaming

I feel love, and horror/a frigid hand who's body I have dissolved-
-caressing my back tenderly
bordering terrific malevolence

...Later, in another try at my own eternal return, I find my comfort brother, accompanied by an overhead
divination lantern..

pounding! At the sun skull, for you (my cherished)
are of high order
I tempt soaking the cloth,
to steer the intention

..missing black mass, indulging instead
on feverish Damascus perfume

Splash ramp
down. Flesh, wailing
vampire/poet
hidden by darkly earth to inevitably
decay by their self-solitude

(descent writhes in the milk of heartache
and cusps the night firmly in his *****
withering palms)

I refuse this fate, and
in Western-fashion
fire down the city worshipper which was once
I, too        (unmercifully so)

..burying his bones in the Scottish dirt

Terrarium hydrangeas, pale (yourIrises) lipstick daggers
slashing in the white sleeve-
red with epicurean
baptism

-IV-

Big bad wolf
banished to his hole,
I kiss the winter fruit clean from your mouth (succumbing to pinnacles of fire/your lost domain) ******* on pebbles, trying to crack through the surface
like a dragon's egg for pride
(big bad wolf is hungry)
We wear away the season, memorizing the newspapers
which are tossed carelessly to our door. Ah, the kitchen ballet dancers are finally tired..endowed to the triplicate beauty
that we individually define (takes a bit to get there)

You/I privileged to ******* Venice with our mutual
imagination,                              owing to Calvino

To crave eachother
as an Acrobat craves the

trapeze

— The End —