Fashion, fun and entertainment will feature on August 1 when Hospice West Auckland and national business networking organisation BNI New Zealand partner to present the Absolutely Fabulous Fashion Show, proudly supported by major sponsor Douglas Pharmaceuticals.

Returning due to popular demand, the outrageous fashion fundraising event features upcycled outfits sourced from donations to West Auckland Hospice Shops. Included in the evening is a ‘Designer Clothes Sale’ featuring garments seen on the catwalk, which will be available to purchase on the night. Modelling the clothes will be celebrities, prominent Aucklanders, Hospice staff and professional models.

Award winning ‘Comedienne of the Decade’ and celebrity host for the evening Michele A’Court was delighted to be asked to MC the event. “It just sounds like tremendous fun and I am a sucker for Hospice fundraisers, so I jumped at the chance to be involved. Also, I am a massive fan of op shops, so how could I resist?”

CEO of Hospice West Auckland, Barbara Williams said, “We know the audience is in for a very special night for a great cause, with lots of laughs. We also want to showcase the fabulous range of designer clothing that donors so generously give us, and to highlight the quality of garments available from our Hospice Shops. Op shopping is good for your wallet, the planet and your community and we are keen to show that it can also be brilliant for your wardrobe.”

Barbara is delighted to welcome Douglas Pharmaceuticals as the major sponsor this event. “Douglas is a key supporter of Hospice West Auckland and Founder Sir Graeme Douglas has been our Patron since 1996. We are thrilled to have Jeff Douglas, Managing Director, continuing their support and appreciate his commitment to this event.”

Barbara acknowledges the support of long-time partner BNI NZ as a major asset for the event. “BNI’s networking groups up and down the country have supported Hospice for many years and raised over a million dollars for Hospice nationally.”

“Our long standing relationships with Douglas and BNI NZ and are very important to us, not only financially but also in terms of engaging with the communities their businesses operate in.”

Graham Southwell, National Director of BNI NZ, says BNI has a strong presence in West Auckland with a lot of local businesses participating in its networking groups. “Hospice West Auckland approached us because they know that we have active local business members in the community that could provide resources and help make this event even bigger and better this year,” Graham says. “It’s exciting to work with Hospice and use our expertise in BNI to help collaboratively put on the event. At BNI we are all about creating strong relationships in the community and Hospice have come to us because of our network and assistance with logistics as well as getting the word out about this fabulous event.”

Guests will be able to purchase some fabulous fashion, bid on a range of exciting auction items as well as enjoy wine, canapés and live music. All proceeds from the event will go to Hospice West Auckland, who provides free palliative care and support to patients and families living with terminal and life-limiting illness.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-2015

Beatle Bomb  (a tribute to the Fab 4)

I should have known better, but if I fell, can you tell me why?
I'm happy just to dance with you, anytime at all,
you can't do that, if you love me do,
I want to hold your hand, and your bird can sing too,
said you was a taxman, it was a hard days night,
you can drive my car, but you wont see me,
I'm looking through you, but you're nowhere man,
had  a ticket to ride, eight days a week,
it was only yesterday, when I met the day tripper,
we can work it out, with the paperback writer,
we called Eleanor Rigby and Penny Lane,
and now it's getting better, with a little help from my friends,
You say “Helllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllooooo­oooooooooooo”
I say “Goodbye”,  
You say “Helllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllooooo­oooooooooooo”
I say “Goodbye”,  

I was living in a glass onion with Dear Prudence,
I said help! Lady Maddona, won't you just let it be,
Martha my dear, took her Blackbird and Piggies
while Rocky Racoon and Bungalow Bill had wild honey pie
Julia and **** Sadie  had honey pie for their birthday
while there was a revolution back in the U.S.S.R
it was helter skelter but everybody's got something
but I'm getting better, fixing a hole, using Maxwell's silver hammer
and mean Mr Mustard was chasing Polythene Pam  
so she came in through the bathroom window
guess it is time to just Let it be

You say “Helllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllooooo­oooooooooooo”
I say “Goodbye”,  
You say “Helllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllooooo­oooooooooooo”
I say “Goodbye”,  

Gomer LePoet...

Building Blocks (Spoken Word Poem)
5/15/2014

I played with legos when I was young.
What I didn't know was the value of those building blocks.
Putting tiny pieces of plastic together,
all different shapes, sizes, and colors.

For what?
For fun?
For structure?
For a challenge?
Because my mom told me to keep busy?
Or because that was how legos were supposed to work - together.

As I grew up, I gradually upgraded.
My legos got traded in for classmates,
for co-workers.
for bar buddies,
and even for the occasional stranger at the mall or movie theater.

They started telling their own stories:
About their first day at lego high school and making new friends.
About falling in love with their first lego boyfriend.
About going to lego prom and putting the pieces together at the after-party, if you know what I mean.
About getting dumped, but then landing their first job at the lego factory.
About shedding priceless limited edition lego tears, on stressful days.
About going through struggles where all they could do is pray to lego God.
About dreams of a nice big lego house with lego children someday.
About lego suicides, resulting from bullying in every worst kind of way.

Eventually it felt like I had opened up an expert level pack,
containing a variety so vast that I never would have guessed anybody could piece them all together.

These building blocks started to feel pretty heavy,
like bricks building a house,
I could only carry a couple in a fistful at a time.
Except they've been worn down from a life full of misuse.
Their colors faded,
edges jaded,
teeth serrated,
like an adapted mechanism for survival.
And what's worse - no mortar to piece them together.
because it all got burnt up.
A casualty of angry tempers' crossfire.
The constant collisions of verbal bullets bullying the building blocks,
bulldozing them over.
With the strength of slurs,
societies seems to blur,
all the inadequacies faced.

Without solidarity to support,
these building blocks are beginning to contemplate giving up.
But Stop!
But I don't like that.
I'll shout, "Hey little legos, remember the plan?
We should work together with your manual instructions in hand.
You were built with a scheme to be put together.
So in unison you can create an amazing structure to cherish forever."

Building blocks are resilient anyways.
Remember that time you left a lego alone?
Detached from its peers,
abandoned out on the carpet,
without the safety of its pre-fab box home?
Well the lego didn't seem to mind, I mean it turned out just fine.

Remember when you stepped on that seemingly small, insignificant lego?
Yeah, don't step on legos.
I'm sure you remember how much that ******* hurt your foot.

I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite
thankfully not in a medical way
i don't have to pop pills everyday
to keep an essence of danger under control
and to stop my head doing backward flips and forward rolls
to curtail bad thoughts and contain OCD
wake up and think "what's happening to me?"
but sometimes i'm full of mazey bomb blasts
and crazy contrasts,
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite
I say work i'm not even gonna give 50% percent never mind double
but i'll stay just below the warning threshold so i don't really get in trouble,
i do see my sick days as extra days of annual leave
but my bums on my seat most of the year and at least one Eve.
I'm always ducking and diving, i hide and they seek,
but i hit my targets every week.
They can say put down your pens,
strip your pencils of lead,
you can't stop me writing in my head
But you'll sometimes dictate what time i go to bed.
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite
Nearly every road i walk down i've got a ***** cat friend
there meowing never drives me round the bend
but if me owing then just a letter i'll send.
I’ll rescue  spiders from the bath, without any exception,
But I’ll clean their webs and evict them when I have a house inspection.
Giving up pork, on a parity with pigges at last
But then i broke my faste with bacon for breakfast
Watching lambs a gamboling there frolicking is fab,
but i'll see you on a plate later if i'm craving a kebab.
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite.
Money and the capitalist structure baffles, no thanks, no ta
but before i go out a quick sub off Ma and Pa.
I'll pay for a taxi, i don't care about the amount,
while checking fervently the statement from my bank account.
Cash cannot be eaten it just gets you into Eton
but i'll rifle through my pockets for pennies to get an eat on
i don't adore you, i'll say your the means to an end
but then i spend some more and ask for a lend.
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite.
I'll say anarchy  is everywhere, petition and abstain
then  read in the late edition who i think should take the reins.  
I scream smash the system without any regrets
but then start stubbing out where they deem no cigarettes.
I'll say **** big business they are always looting tons
while cutting out Asda coupons to get the soup with croutons.
i'll say **** materialism, to that i am adverse,
"ohh if you want to get me some trainers Mum can you make em Converse? "
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite
One Saturday i found it hard to move
crying out for water, more than needing food,
stomach emptier than the packets in my pockets
Early winter scribble
spoiled by the ripple of rain,
deadened and dull
on a precious day,
the time I crave
passes through a husk
full of caves.
Each inhabitant curses
and burns
the stagnant soil under their feet,
I want something to eat.
I need to drink.
The cold slab of sink
lures flesh to rest,
unsatisfied
with retched offerings
flung from a scorched earth
so next Friday, a few beers and l I’ll hit the hay
Ten beers later, where’s the MDMA?
And my staunch resolutions go up my nose
Chatting through the night, striking a pose,
Music accentuated, stars sparkling hard
World’s discussed in magic back yards,
Focused and fraught in tumultuous thought
Ten cigs in an hour
An hours too short,
As the morning comes, I start feeling a mess
It slowly disintegrates the treasure in my chest,
Feelings of strength crumble to a feeble frame,
Spears in my head, WHOOPS I’VE DONE IT AGAIN.
You’ll stop this time, I curse and lecture,
Two bottles down next Friday etc etc,
I’m a schizophrenic hypocrite
I remember an uneventful Tuesday when i wasn't working
belly full of rice
and i saw you twice,
two times a day,
on a day in lieu,
time stood still,
smiling at you
i thought i'm gonna have to write about you,
so i park myself in a bar after a joint in Netto carpark
and start using words to build an arc
and if you you do wanna walk in two by two,
can i walk in with you?
Is it this green ride that's getting me high
or the regret i seen in the gleam of your eye
that as soon as we said hi we said bye,
as disappointed as the catcher when he dropped the rye.
If i may be so bold,
if you were cold
i wouldn't hail these stones
i'd pummel Jack Frost until he knows he's lost,
i'll leave all the lights on to hasten global warming
make Obama declare winter a season of mourning,
If you met an iceberg of Titanic  proportions
i'd cut through it quicker than the Ripper does back street abortions.
If you were in prism
i'd try to unrangle the science of triangles
so i could build you a pyramid with all the right angles,
my stomachs in knots;
the most tranquil of tangles.
Then i saw you get out of the lift
and i wanted to play you a rift
until you exposed your midriff
because you set me adrift from chains and shackles
my mind goes crazy and fills with cackles,
i crackle with lightning, my energy heightens
my heart tightens
and not cos of cholesterol
cos i think you're special
and celestial!
I got dreams from naught, my head feels taught,
i prised a lesson from your eyes,
love is the greatest prize.
But now that's gone, all things
pass evolution in transience
faces that were everything lost to balance
blue it merge
but seldom a residual surge
and your bark today was worst than your bite
it said something softly,
i sow the seeds for the sycamore trees
we can carve our names on next summer.
Under an endless stretching sky
you wrote you
and i wrote i,
the lights in our eyes don't lie
they are gateways to the suns inside,
our hearts couldn't hide from this brightening tide.
I'm a Schizophrenic hypocrite
I remember this guy from work, cooed to me
look at the **** on this page 3
he drooled over Nuts magazine like he belonged in a zoo
i bet he frequented strippers too.
He said seen this clip, it's ******* great,
it ad turn a couple of queers straight
it was these two twins with rouge lips being rude,
the way she chomped on her like food
and they defo loved it,there is  no doubt
it's just just ***** Eskimo ******* kissing snouts
and sharing with her sister the joy of getting licked out.
Wonder how they looked in the family car?
giggling about some exciting destination,
like all kids displaying a lack of patience,
“are we there yet” chorused with glee and duality,
dressed in the same clothes to ensure parity.
Ice cream for tea.
Maybe they might be way into drugs
or addled with addiction
lacking hugs
and sore from the friction.
Not liking the glare
feeling scared.
maybe?
He said nar they love it up them baby.
But then,
i have it
about 3 or 4 times a week
after the 5th time of hitting snooze,
or a heavy night on the *****,
or sometimes no beer,
even after a sonnet of Shakespeare
a sudden urge comes over me,
GET THE LAPTOP!
GET THE *******!
Then it's
Japanese teen lesbians spitting,
finger ******* wearing mittens,
****'s ******* Britions,
oap creampies
***** covered eyes
***** flicking,
extreme suction,
**** destruction,
Captain Birds Eye gobbing
Batman ******* Robin,
A ten inch plumber ******* in a kitchen sink drama
Robert de Niro unpeeling Bananarama
Marty doing the Doc
a gimped up Kirk whipping Spoc
Rita  ******* Norris
Gail licking Fizz
Sally doing Dev
and Kevin doing ki.............Kevin, get out of the room.
Back to
a **** doing a ******
a pre op pleasuring granny
two ***** one *****,
then i chuck my muck all over my tunic
flip over and continue reading The Female ******,
I'm a Schizophrenic Hypocrite,
i've gotta split.

I like to dab
It makes my day
it is so fab
I have to say

If I'm ever feeling down
I do a dab, and do not frown

It is the cure for all all sadness
And the method to my madness

I like to dab,
it makes my day
it is so fab
I have to say

This Day, two Biped Ponies each of you ride,
Strolling along the lane Lovers enjoy
To watch this Sweet Scene from way far behind,
A Cheque I'd like to cash-in this Friday
Yes, for Pence-Tales of Romance and Success
Thinking to Follow is easy enough
How many, do those Squirrels squeak at-less
The Time which Currency states on the Rough
I guess Luck's Fair in Friendship does depend
On a Brisket-List sorted in custom
To where each of you in Common does spend,
Well, better than sulk out of sheer boredom.
The Bullseye's paid, admitting my Defeat,
Licking my own Fab's whilst hugging the Street.

We were all together once.
A wall of friends, ready to help each other
to slay and protect.
The Fab Five/The Passionate Pentagon...
The Dark Side.
What happened to us?
What we once were,
we are no more,
and we look back at the Dark Side
like the same way we reminisce old memories-
but we are not old memories.
We will always be the Fab Five,
The Dark Side.
We are tied together
by bonds unseen but there.

But yet we are all reaching out,
stretching our flimsy arms to everyone around us
people who never were a part of us,
longing to be held and heard-
to not be forgotten.

There is no need for that.
I promise you,
you are not forgotten, and never will be.
So maybe...maybe let's try again, eh?
Let's get the old gang together
remember we exist to each other,
take away all the walls built up between the bonds,
all the anguish squished in between us,
and let's
Reunite.

six-inch heels abandoned
in lampless corner       grimy pennies embedded in carpet

rent's due

wedding band girl "fab polka dot frocks"
waterfalling past knees        outta place
on casino bus destined for rest under Ft. Worth stars
now, now    ******* borealis speckled dice

true love waits

socialite lip balm and bourgeoisie hips compete
in bidding war over which black face triggerpulls
which black face eyes the ground
passerby the red light      the green light
all night diner    egg on chin   coffee-stained porcelain   teeth

"I forgave, I think. I forget."

crowded and paranoid in the left lane    the right lane
empty and weak and surrender and soiled underwear in ammonia nursing home
children is a word     time is a lie the polka dot and the interstate ain't selling
divorce the consequence of acoustic shadows

reblog   undo   #sotrue    reblog

living through x-ray radiotherapy the dotted gown
never the veiny calves or the blush or the eyeliner
somewhere in North Texas shawtys are in the club
shawtys are backin' it up    shawtys are dropin' it down

hit me+hit me+hit me=blackjack mishap

the marvel of the wind and of wind turbines
cognac decade brides     the epitome of class and natural elegance
standing like oil derricks and treated like oil wells
so secretive and philanthropic

this taxon remains nameless

casino turned dance hall   dance hall   skinny ties still a thing
this wine is good. is it a merlot?    no.    this is purely recreational
for birthdays   for weddings    and Ft. Worth missionaries
10-50 passengers   we've got 53, no 54 #hahahaha #whoops #party

who needs unprescribed drugs? me, me (!)

decomposing mascara sweat on brow the interstate no longer lit
polka dots has got the suicide by Manet pulled up
on her iPhone the financial stress   which shudders warm-blooded moms
on her lips    every mother a librarian   every mother a swing-pusher

but digression    next to bitterness   the lowest sin

edging the cultural gateway of the old west
miracles in and miracles out of tradition following
the slender bends of middle ancient Trinity River
children a word   pattycake a game

and time   time a lie we left to museum panoramas

My grandmother used to bake pies
in the kitchen where I lived as a boy.
She would spend all day mixing
          and kneading,
singing her old lady songs to herself.
I would get to lick the bowl.
This was my prize.
Back when the world was psychedelic
and hippies wandered the streets.

My sister and I would play outside
        almost every sunny day.
Magic kingdoms made of mud and bricks.
Toy soldier citizens of mock empires.
Barbie doll victims of terrible wars.
Bubblegum music from the top forty
       traced the pattern of our lives.

Our country had a new flag and boys
         in school still had short hair.
Little girls wore skirts and dresses and
pony tails were still the normal fashion.
Black and white television set turned to
the latest American sitcoms. We would
laugh at Granny and marvel at Endora.
Mr. Sullivan would present the latest rage,
the latest quartet or singer from England.
Back when the world was psychedelic
and hippies wandered the streets.

We wore peace buttons on our coats,
and drew "smiley's" on our books.
We talked about what we were going
to do to make a difference in the world.
We admired the Fab Four and worshipped
        at the altar of glorious possibilities.
We knew it was going to be beautiful,
because that is what we were being told.

Every morning at school we would sing
"God Save the Queen" and "O Canada",
say The Lord's Prayer and
      hear the announcements.
Teachers talked about the future
       as if it was a land of possibilities.
We did not know the black and white visions
would be transformed into colour horrors.
We had no idea that the dreams of peace and love
were going to be forgotten. Who could predict
the grey soul of adulthood? Where have
         all the beautiful people gone?

My grandmother used to bake pies
in the kitchen where I lived as a boy.
Back when the world was psychedelic
and hippies wandered the streets.

He had just sat down to dinner
at the Heart Attack Grill.
The fab Las Vegas nightspot
where the fatties eat their fill

A place where the morbidly obese
and Summo wannabees
can chow down to their heart’s content
cause Fatties eat for free.

Nurse Bridgette brought his burger
and he started feeling ill.
As he slurped his triple milkshake
did he feel a sudden chill?

Was it the unfiltered cigarettes
He went through by the pack?
Or the triple bypass burger
that brought on his heart attack?

He started turning purple
and was rolling on the floor.
He was regretting his decision
to bypass that health food store.

Nurse Bridgette practiced CPR
and dialed emergency.
Thanks to her ministrations
He'll make a full recovery.

Death descends like the statement of a credit card;
life goes on in eight columns, sometimes six,
dropping out should have been an option, instead my
world is turning pages while I am just sitting here
listening to atrophy whisper through a megaphone:
“It’s better to fade away than to burn out, let
champagne supper turn to bile by breakfast, bark up a
fake plastic lemon tree till she hurls pomo grenades at you.”
The streetlife serenade is recklessly tempting,
in the club the girls in ***** shirts come and go,
talking of Felu, Neru, Derri… da, what inertia!
Sitting in a club with so many fools(,) playing to rules,
Hell is a blank generation with no vacancy,
I’m doubting Thom: meeting people isn’t easy,
Them clones in rubber souls from fab India
try to impale me right next to the paintbox,
In she walks, head going nowhere close to the oven,
eyes me like a Pisces riding shotgun on a WAG,
says growing older in the rain ought not be done all alone.
Bring on the moonshine, dancing days are here again!
Happiness was Scotch Mist, now it’s suddenly a goal,
It’s past AM on a holiday, do I wanna know if this
isn’t, like always, just un-certain platonish bromance?
Or will she journey with me till the end of the night?
Optimism is fleeting, afraid to commit, tends to elope,
Pray that she lingers long enough: I need a feel-good poem.
There’s a restaurant at the end of the universe,
I’ve heard the well-done steak they serve is actually rare
but their awesomesauce can make us live forever,
we can make it there in time if we slide away right now,
and if in the morning we don’t know what to do,
I’ll toast the bread, I’ll make the bed, she can make my day.

Fava Bean, but from Latin Faba.
And it is a fab flour, it is what
gives French bread that perfume
one encounters when first visiting
La France. With a mere 2% as an
additive, this encounter with the
aroma of freshly ground coffee
beans, fills the air with an *******
eloquence of which is more seductive
than anything Chanel has ever produced.

his name was Hamilton
my name was Caleb

the dude was on the outside
inside was more from his film

also in the bunch,
the duke, the doctor,
the fab 4, the dogs
in neon and inverted
colors

it was not all Hamilton’s
but his work was some of the best

weird stuff on the back wall
but still some awesome pieces
from a man obsessed with
movies

Hamilton was my friend
If only for my visit
Hamilton was my dad’s friend
(My dad’s good at making them)

but in the end
I was there for
art work

and though I bought something not of Hamilton’s
I think he appreciated me and my dad and my mom
(she likes the dude too)

but Hamilton told me
I’m looking to propose to a lady like your mom
and I laughed
that’s good
but Hamilton
we’ve got to
go

thus is the fate of the artist and the
customer

What are the words cooking?
The flavor you add
Telling the story your fab
Your words being the ingredient on the grill
The concept you set at will
The emotion captured being a thrill
Your words having a roast
The dialog that everyone will boost
Imagine your poetry being the cookbook known coast to coast
This is an outstanding achievement at most
It’s a feast illustrating in your own words
You heard!
Just bring your words and the reader will bring their ears
A chance to open the reader’s mind
Having a strategy all combined
Win the reader over
Your confidence the reader will discover
A discovery at the BBQ that everyone will be talking about
It won’t be a theory perhaps stuck in a bout
But it is words that can
Assurance that will
Yet confident still
Words grilled to perfection and just right
Having those very words that will crave the reader’s appetite.

Is this the place where garland grows,
Among the olive branches low?
Splattered, cindered, clay abode,
Am I so alien?
Encircled those, in khaki drab;
Paying homage to the bags;
Which hold remains of brave, young lads;
Will I feel again?

Surrounded, chains of un-lit lights,
Which only shine in day, not nights;
Illumination betrays the plights,
Should we become aglow.
A tree of polypropylene,
Adorns the tower, so serene;
A branch of steel hid in-between,
That only gunner knows.

The air of diesel, not of Myrrh,
As pre-fab dwellings start to stir,
Indifferent as they observe,
Fading of the Star.
A failed attempt at lone ‘SandMan’
Adorned with boots, bayonet in hand,
Iraqi winds displace his stand,
Re-formed in Kandahar.

T’was yesterday, on Christmas Eve;
A day ahead of promised leave,
When Paul, Eric, Mark and Steve,
Took leisurely patrol.
In Tikrit, where he was born,
Some sixty years before this ‘Storm’,
They’d set-out on this early morn.
Assessing evening’s toll.

Among the buildings, scattered ruins;
Charred men, like shadows, on the dunes;
From temples soar cremated plumes;
One hour had gone by.
In the distance, beyond the spire,
Come ‘reports’ of skirmish fire,
Incessant screaming of the dire;
Then screams dissolve to cries.

Approach, inside a city square,
Where once a fountain teemed, right there,
Smoldering flesh, low burning hair;
A family splayed together.
Rank and putrid pieces strewn,
Mother’s face, shrapnel-hewn;
Attending Allah far too soon--
All their hands were tethered.

Domestic dogs, now on their own,
Fight for human flesh and bone;
Such holy image sets the tone,
As chorus strikes ‘Jihad’.
Eric stumbles, exploded knee,
Bearing witness to comrades, three,
Souls reclaimed near instantly;
Christmas in Baghdad.

Is this the place where garland grows;
Among the olive branches low?
How I miss New England snow,
This Christmas in Baghdad.

my foot is so fab
with all of those toes and stuff
wait that is my face

why's my face got toes
that's seriously messed up
I should lay off drugs

it always comes out of america, it really does!
  you start listening to these guys
in the 21st century talking about psychedelic
"pioneers" from the 20th century...
- hey man! like take this l.s.d.
- n'ah man! d.m.t.! 15min of fab!
- magic mushrooms!
               to be honest, i wouldn't do that -
i don't know why i wouldn't...
       maybe because it's no longer a secret?
carlos casteneda's anthropological study
of a yaqui shaman, don juan -
and don juan says: keep it to yourself!
but no... the americans in the 20th century
had to write poetry... shout the mystic experience
from the rooftops!
and i'm like: well... that's ruined, what's the point
of doing these eywa roots?
              eywa? the avatar planet goddess...
i'd love to have tried those things,
but these fungi have been contaminated by
other people's experiences, which they noted down...
is it really that bad? someone might ask...
                                               yes!
it's a bit like disrespecting other people's privacy,
the term privacy? should anyone attempt it...
          you can easily create junkies that way...
i was watching this video once...
  this american girl went in search of ayahuasca
in south america...
   she posted regular videos...
                             after a few videos, and she's
back home in america...
                   she's no longer eating / smoking it...
whatever... she's injecting it...
             move it back to europe...
                                    well, compared to you
"cool kids" in america... (apart from the dutch)...
  we're still going: give us enough *****
and a good song, some tobacco and we tell you
of mysticism of another kind: the type you see
with your naked eyes.
            i can't remember how many times
i had mystical(?) experiences drinking and listening
to music... usually nordic, but also germanic
music... ok even some slavic music...
                               english music?
                          you trying to bribe with candy
and a heart-numbing anesthetic?
                    you think i'd emotionally get-off
on english music? some henry the 8th greensleeves
suite?                        but, it's, only, alcohol...
   i'll mystify alcohol for you... end up feeling
so much that you have to burst into tears
    without any "enlightening" images,
geometric geriatrics...
                                i base everything on sounds,
**** the images, if there's a heaven i want to be
sitting next to homer, blind as a bat, as he ended
up being.
                  you want to know a mystical
experience from europe?
  well... yesterday i woke up with this unforgiving
pain in my neck, like i might have popped a ******
and it got stuck in my neck...
                 i blame the builders making a racket
too early in the morning...
                      so last night i was like: that's it! i've had
enough! **** this *** is good...
      so first it was 70cl of capn' morgan's white ***,
not bad, not bad at all...
              and then onto the pièce de résistance
   capn' morgan's original spiced gold -
                    making up about a litre of ***: in m'ah belly...
i'll be doing an apache yawn in a minute:
   ap ap pa pa pa - lazy onomatopoeia, i know:
i can't be bothered exacting that battle cry...
      but the zenith of this mystical experience came
after i butchered some food (ate it like a ravenous
wolf) - but i said to myself: not tomorrow!
   i'm not going to lie in bed with a neck-ache
like i might have popped a ****** and it got stuck
in my neck (austin powers' ref. third movie?) -
   and lo! behold... i woke up today chirpy like
a sparrow... chirp chirp! chirp chirp!
                                   and did the oddest thing
imaginable... i watched a "movie" -
                      watched batman: arkham city...
the walkthrough... up to chapter 20...
                                  now i see the funny side of professional
gamers... i can sorta start to build up a respect
for them now, before today i thought they
were a joke...
                               it felt like: the opposite of an audiobook?
in my life i might have listened to about 10minutes
of 1 audiobook... couldn't stomach it...
       but these game walkthroughs? now that's an
area i'm really going to discover after today -
they're practically movies (games these days) anyway -
   i remember times when playing games
meant you had sore fingers... like the first
time you pick up the guitar and one of your arms
starts aching because your fingers are getting
fried on the copper strings...
                           for some reason i can't imagine
myself playing a game like the one i ref. -
                     i prefer the game of hacking google...
but yeah... these games are great to watch,
but actually play them?
                        i'd rather shoot myself in the foot
before i start playing them...
    so yeah, the zenith of yesterday's mystical
experience...
    a. about a litre of *** (white and amber)
        b. 25mg of amitriptyline
   and crucially    
                                    c. 500mg of naproxen.
and this is for you, *******, having ruined
       the potential of having a psychedelic experience!
i didn't want to know... but thanks for telling me...
    **** yourselves, 20th century buggers
                                      and your poetic buggery.

T- Take all his rules and directives on board
H-Heed them well or he'll put you to the sword
E-Edicts he announces mustn't be ignored

S-Stay within the definition of his pit
I-Indent it into your mind's memory fit
T-Test not his patience nor his fab wit
E-Enter good work that will be a great  hit

M-Mad as hell he'll become when he sees a bad post
O-Ousted you'll be if he doesn't like what you boast
N-Niggling him will obtain a certain kind of verbal roast
I-Irking his upright position means you'll be put on toast
T-Travel within the hallowed guidelines he prefers the most
O-Opposing him means debarment at a far flung coast
R-Riling him over his rule's will disappear you as a ghost

How cool I was with undercut
pretending then Mohawk
playing rugby pretending
brunching with fab hipsters
pretending enjoying arcane debates
about particle physics pretending
and social justice pretending
loving tall beautiful black boy
pretending and playing Tetris til dawn
or napping on the couch pretending
in fashionable Old City coworking
space pretending cuddled alone
as rain struck clear panes windowed walls
facade pretending that was my life once,
author in a zine pretending, cheese day denizen
pretending amid all that a sprawling
vacuum of identity pretending
and isolation pretending despite
lunching with a priest I met
pretending online or long, meandering
walks to the park pretending
with Mr. Wiggles and biking up
Passyunk pretending through the market
that smelled of live chickens and grease
bemoaning my loneliness pretending at
row-house holiday parties hosted
by midlife fairies & queers pretending
with dreams with drugs
pretending alcohol *** and roof deck
skyline views pretending pop up gardens
live music filling midsummer streets
pretending same streets
filled with seasonal dirt
artisanal water pretending
bottle cap eyes cigarette **** nose
garbage mouth snowman melting
away pretending going
the way of brotherly
love. How cool I was inhabiting
my urban life pretending
I was there.

RIANO ALLIANO PERFORMING AT JUPITER MOON
A BENEFIT CONCERT TO CREATE PEACE ON EARTH


HI EVERYONE AND WELCOME TO JUPITER MOON AND HERE IS THE FIRST SON

YA SEE THERE ARE A LOT OF TERRORIST THREATS

I WANT TO HAVE POWER TO STOP THEM ALL

WHY WOULD PEOPLR SAY RELIGION IS BEHINF ANY OF THIS SORT OF ****** ****

THERE ARE PEOPLE DYING, AND EARTH SHOULD RALLY TOGETHER LIKE YOU ALL DO

WE SHOULD BUIL;D A BETTER PLACE ON EARTH FOR YOU AND ME

YOUR **** IS MINE, I WILL SELL YOU RIGHT

YOU SEE WE’LL PARTY RIGHT INTO THE NIGHT

YOU SEE WE ARE HELPING PEOPLE UNDERSTAND

AND WE’LL PLAY GREAT MUSIC IN OUR ROCK AND ROLL BAND

YOU KNOW I’M BAD I’M BAD, REALLY REALLY BAD

I AM BAD I’M BAD, REALLY REAYY RAD

YOU SEE I WILL WANNA PARTY, TOO LONG IN CIVIC YEAH

I DON’T CARE WHAT PARENTS SAY, I WILL DRINK MY CELEBRATION CHEER

YOU SEE, I’M BAD I’M BAD REALLY REALLY FAB

I’M BAD I’M BAD, REALLY TOTALLY FAB

IT’S CLOSE TO MIDNIGHT, SOMETHING WEIRD IS LURKING THROUGH OUR BRAINS

IT’S LIKE A PARTY IN OUR MOUTH, AND EVERYONE IS INVITED, OH YESEREE

YOU SEE, IT’S CLOSE TO MIDNIGHT, AND I JUST MISSED THE LAST BUS HOME OH YEAH

SO I HUNG AROUND CIVIC ALL NIGHT LONG

YOU SEE IT’S A THRILLER, OOH OOH YEAH, WE’LL PARTY ON TOWARD THE NIGHT

YOU SEE IT’S A THRILLER, COME ON DUDES,

WE HAVE TO SWING OUR HIPS, TO THE PERFECT BEAT

YOU KNOW IT’S ABC, IT’S AS EASY AS 123, JUST AS SIMPLE AS ABC DO RE MI

COUNT ‘EM DOWN TILL THE END

YOU KNOW IT’S ABC, IT’S AS EASY AS 123 JUST AS SIMPLE AS ABC DO RE MI

EVERYONE IS READY TO PARTY

AND NOW HERE IS ANOTHER SONG BY THE TERRORISTS

WE WANTED TO CAUSE SO MUCH HASSLE, YEAH WE WANTED TO SHOW SO MUCH STRESS

WE CAME INTO THE CAFE, AND INTO THE GROCERY STORE AND MAGAZINE

TO OPEN FIRE, NOT CARING ABOUT OUR FELLOW HUMANS

WE ARE TERRORISTS AND WE ARE PROUD OF IT

AND WE **** SO MANY PEOPLE, NOT CARING IF THEY ARE INNOCENT OR NOT

WE NEED TO **** THEM, YEAH MATE YEAH

WE ARE TERRORISTS, WE ARE WILLING TO ****

AND WE ARE FIGHTING OUR WAY, YOU CAN’T DEFEAT US

DEATH DOESN’T SLOW US DOWN, IT DODESN’T SLOW US DOWN, OH NO

AND YOU SIT IN THE CORNER, DRINKING YOUR METHANE

KNOWING THAT WE WILL PROVIDE TERRORIST ATTACKS ALL OVER THE WORLD

AND THEN BRIAN ALLAN JUMPED UP, AND TIPPED METHANE ALL OVER THE TERRORISTS

AND THE TERRORISTS SAID, WE WANT A LIFE OF KILLING, WE WANT A LIFE OF KILLING

WE WANT A LIFE OF KILLING, AND THAT SOUNDS SO RAD

WE WANT A LIFE OF KILLING WE WANT A LIFE OF KILLING WE WANT A LIFE OF KILLING

AND A HAPPY NEW DAY

YA SEE THE WORLD YELLS OUT, TERRORIST TERRORIST, YA KNOW YOU RAISED ME WITH NO PERSON OH NO

SO WE WILL TAKE OUR MACHINE GUN TRIGGER, OUT FOR GIVING US LIFE

AND NOW HERE IS A CHANT FOR THE WA FIRES


UMMMMMMMMM PUT THE FIRES OUT  UMMMMMMMM PUT THE FIRES OUT

UMMMMMMMM THEY ARE THREATENING LIVES UMMMMMMMM THEY ARE THREATENING HOMES

UMMMMMMMM SEND THE RAIN UMMMMMMM SEND THE RAIN  UMMMMMMMM TO MAKE THEM HAPPY AGAIN

AND NOW WHAT I AM GOING TO DO, IS TIP, THE METHANE SMOOTHIES ALL OVER

EACH TERRORISTS, TO TRY AND RID ALL EVIL UMMMMMMMMM SO FUTURE GENERATIONS CAN BE SAVED

AND NOW HERE IS FRANK SINATRA

I AM SINGING IN THE RAIN, I AM SINGING IN THE RAIN WHAT A GLORIOUS FEELING I AM HAPPY AGAIN

WE WALK DOWN THE LANE, AND WE HAVE A HAPPY FACE AGAIN

WE ARE SINGING AND DANCING IN THE RAIN

LET THE STORMY CLOUDS CHASE, EVERYONE FROM PERTH

COME OUT WITH RAIN DOWN IN PERTH, TO GET RID OF FIRES

AND PUT A SMILE ON THEIR FACE

WE WALK DOWN THE LANE, FEELING HAPPY AGAIN

WE WERE SINGING AND DANCING IN THE RAIN

LET THE STORMY CLOUDS CHASE, EVERYONE FROM PERTH

COME ON WITH THAT RAIN IN PERTH TO PUT OUT THE FIRES

SO INSTEAD OF BURNING, THEY CAN BE SINGING AND DANCING IN THE RAIN

AND THEN ROBERT PALMER CAME OUT

HOW CAN IT BE PERMISSABLE, YOU COMPRIMISE MY PRINCIPALS

THAT KIND OF LOVE IS MYTHICAL SHE’S ANYTHING BUT TYPICAL

YOU SEE IT’S A PHRASE YOU WILL ENDUCE IT’S A POWERFUL FORCE

AND YOU WILL FIND IT, SIMPLY IRRESISTABLE

AND NOW, MY DAD SAID, IN MY DREAMS, MUM IS DEAD, AND I SAID OH NO

IT WAS A FLASH BACK, OF WHAT DAD WU=ILL BE LIKE IF HE LIVED LONGER THAN MUM

OK BYE FROM BRIANO ALLIANO

Oh pillars of power.
Sentinels, guardians of our mother sun.
We come forth to relish your wisdom.
To revel in your all revealing light.
Stones standing eternal, forever immortal.
Brothers, sisters, come stand before them.

Worshipping lovers , embracing the sunrise.
Banners flying, rainbows held high.
Holding the night time at bay, as we play.

This is the time of your life, my friends.
World without end.
Two solstices.
.June and December.
Join us good fellows ,come be free.

Each year be different, pray always remember.
Monolithic structures, bathed by the rain, savouring the sun.

Festival goers come along.
Party inside the fence for free.
Open your hearts.
May your minds eye reveal such truths.
Yet unknown.


Vernal equinox.
New life.
Most venerable equinox may we feel the source of the changes you bring.
We feel them as we kneel in your honour.
Respecting the vibe.
Come together, as one, let us all be alive.
Souls and spirits intermingle as the moonlight blesses them.
The sunrises lifting hearts and vibrant minds.
Vernal equinox, heralding spring.
Of the spring buds and bees and the tickling breeze.
Fab to be free.
Bearing flowers of pink red and golden, with garlands of green.

Summer solstice, she wears the dress of summer's sun.
Warming, protective.
Midsummer's  night,
Blessed be the longest night.
Glory to the longest day, where fairies flit and pixies play.
Pagans and maidens, come dance in delight.
Height of summer, vibrant and wild,
In the moonlight, the dance of the flowing haired child.

Autumnal equinox, reliever of  leaves.

Solstice of midwinter, brings forth the shortest day.
Ivy boughs and holly trees.
Magical mistletoe borne of the wizards, the pagans and mystical ravens.
Be kissed by winter's finger  tips.
The touch of the chill as it nibbles the lips.


Come brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers.
Come seeks us and find perchance, romance.
Romancing the ancient ones.
No rhyme or reason not to come.
Brothers and sisters be blessed by the sun.
Mystical season.

These all entrancing stones,  placed to be revered.
In line with the rising sun.
As seasons change, we shall be as one.
Souls and spirits intermingle as the moonlight blesses them.
The sunrises lifting hearts and vibrant minds.

You stand, we dance.
Ride the spirits, feel the vibe.
Festival goers are coming, they're thriving.
Buzzing with glee.
Welcome us with open arms.
Amulets and magic charms.
Romancing beneath our holy moon.
Magical, mystical, sense airs and attitudes.
Standing stones.
Worshipped by many.
Revered sincerely.

In mode of festival, vibrancy pulse.
People, powerful people, come watch us dance.
To the beat of the drums and the carnival air, in bright spirited revellers together, so  shall we share.
Druids and hippy folk together.
May they relish the joys of freedom.
Life is short.
Breathe in the passion , bathe in the love.
One love forever.
Respect our stones.
Our blessed mother earth.
Sensational rhythm of love and peace.
Flowing, spirit release.
Essence of the stones.
We are free spirits.
May our free spirits to mingle with those of the stones.
A past, a present and future.
Eternally yours.
Love and peace.
(C) LIVVI

Twenty five years
tomorrow,
a quarter of a century but
dad's been there
behind me
watching out for me,
it never seems to me
that he's not here,
Woodbines and a pint of beer,
the scent still lingers
fingers on my shoulder
guiding me and
I got older
suddenly by
a
quarter of a century.

Guep seeb do fug
Uptoob queev buh
Luft goo dub ug
Fleeg dahs luh

Obku *** qwuarsh
Fab go mud marsh

Me go fabroso
Egvar seeg lu
Xybahso
Imba go mu
Cabbo de
Ogg be

Imagining the perfect girl
Is a fantasy of mine.
Every feature perfect
in proportion by design.
I’d have to start with
Elizabeth Taylor’s
captivating eyes.
Anne Hathaway has perfect skin
and is the perfect size.
Emmy Rossum’s flowing hair
Attracts some envious eyes
J-Lo is most bootyful.
Sweet Scarlett has nice thighs.
Mila Kunis gams are fab
And she is worldly wise.
To make her warm and welcoming
Add Julia Roberts’ smile

Of course this perfect girl of mine
Would want some change in me..
Six inches taller would be nice,
Then I’d be six foot three..
I’d then be perfect for my weight
The abs would come with time.-
I’m sure they’re somewhere buried
underneath this flab of mine.
I’d have to dye my hair for her,
to hide the tell tale gray.
Some dental work to fix my smile.
And keep bad breathe at bay……

It seems a lot of work to me.
I’d not enjoy the rack.
I’m better off right where I am
than having to deal with that!