I know that I will never marry Jimmy Fallon or Donald Glover or Joseph Gordon-Levitt.
I know that despite the myths, Brussels sprouts taste awesome.
I know that one too many tequila shots will automatically turn you into a philosopher.
I know that the sun sets in the East and rises in the West (or is it the other way around?)
I know that I am most happiest when I'm surrounded by amazing friends in the unseasonably warm March sun and a banjo is playing.
I know that a smile straightens everything out.
I know that although you can't forget the past, you can't let it dictate your future.
I know that having *** for the first time is weird, and so is ****.
I know that my hair is golden, my eyes are blue and I will never be stick-thin as hard as I try.
I know that there are 24 hours in a day, 7 days in a week and 12 months in a year. But it never seems to be enough time to figure out who you are.
I know that people come and go but those that love and care for you will stay glued next to you no matter what.
I know that as much as it hurts, you will get over love.
I know that I will never have the courage to rap publicly.
I know that Kim Kardashian's *** is most likely not real.
I know that travel truly broadens the mind.
I know that I'm insecure and over analytical and anxious and easily frustrated.
But I know that I'm also passionate and determined and a hopeless romantic and a picky eater and a restless sleeper.
And above all:
I know that when I look at you I see past your eyes.
I know that when you're around I smile wider and laugh louder and flip my hair more often.
I know I dress nicer to remind you how beautiful you think I am.
I know that I forget to inhale and that the butterfly on my shoulder has to fly up to my ear and remind me to breathe.
I know that I care about you more than anyone.
I know that I let you into every pore of my body, every opening: my heart, my head, my...
I know that I am willing to jump in with my whole body and risk being drenched in water for you.
I know that I can make you as happy as you make me
But I know that you're scared and vulnerable and hurt
But if I'm sure of anything (and mind you, I'm not sure of much)
I know that I will hurt and be afraid and breathe with you to make you love me.

ok so here is what we are going to do
i'm going to get a bout de souffle
what was i gonna do..
one thing getting to nether still need you
are you all here
one thing getting getting to noter
288 guitars 
i've been hoping  don't get much dumber 
and getting to noter
this movie is not yet rated
i'm kind of trying to decide
i will send an email to your parents
so… just off the bat 
your parents are not ok with that 
kind of thing
she was out there interviewing her?
right there… have you seen that? ok good
movie theater to hide
c'est rare
reste avec moi
ciao petite fiiiille
elle est la bas je crois
vous parlez français? yes
attention ma petite fille on ne plaisante pas avec la police parisienne
you think i'm lying? you are
i didn't see you
you don't believe me
bonjour mignonne
qu'es ce qu'il dise
les flics me recherche
parle le moi quoi? ca alors
tu es marie
c'est trop **** maintenant d'avoir peur
bonsoir madame
il faut absolument que je trouve antonio
accelere minouche
il est alle a monpellier
why don't you smile
it would certainly surprise me
sourrrit sourrrit
je pense a quelque chose?
je ne sais pas
je voulais être seule
c'est finis
tu m'emmene au champs elysee
au revoir 
tentez votre chance
un cafe alors
moi je peux pas partir
et puisque je suis méchante avec toi c'est la preuve que je suis pas amoureuse de toi
ahh c'est trop complique
j'ai envie de dormir
c'est vraiment dégueulasse
how would you relate
destroy the rules
young actors
....sommes seuls, cette certitude de nous-mêmes dans la sérénité de la solitude ne sont rien en comparaison du laisser-aller, du laisser-venir et laisser-parler qui se vit avec l'autre...
audition for the leading character
interesting combination
the criminal
just the edge of his frame
she seems innocent at the beginning
looking at his notes
just fyi i throw out someone
loving and desirable
playing off of that very consciously
you just not be working
archival stuff is on Facebook
c'est l'heure du gouter
de la glace au chocolat
working on your transcripts/ paper edits
that's probably not a smart thing to do
t'y va
Not this sense
that I don't know what the hell
a human girl is...
where’s the coast guard? 
just a spotlight gimme something
ca commence a 6h 
t'es cool
quickly
i smells like **** did you ****?
you are the love de ma vie
he talks like that he is french
she is like ze morning sun in ze...morning 
beautiful
ze temps is in ze essence
muaaah
is our classroom
i can sense the connection
the connection? 
the connection entre nous
so madame alezraa give me this much
i heard boss
he is not doing anything
to give me a kiss 
it's in the 1st tab
it's still there
you don't have to click
i can't save it, just stay with me
there is no word on this ****
i need the inspiration
you are my muse
c'est pour ca qu'ils sont si petit
small
je vais m'occuper de
the whole point of life is to rearrange it in a coherent running story
people don't talk in stories
cut each section
some sort of a story
nice
tu veux que je mette
ouai ok attends
elle est l'autre feuille
permien tu veux que je colle recolle decolle coupe recoupe decoupe
how do you feel about solving…I mean it's an interesting way to solve it…
〜flowed〜 nicely
it was sort of an ingenious solution
she's in the airplane, she's in the sofa
try to transition between the two subjects….where does your friend come from?
what it was like landing in New York, looking out the window...
the process of arriving
not really fair to say that
in the future, if you're going to try to tell a story…in their minds….what's the story she's going to be telling me?…..coming home
fill in the blanks
don't go shoot blind, that's the biggest mistake
does that make sense?
great!
wubwubwububwubbbbbwubwb
gloving is......flowing lights in sync with the♩music ♫
flowing in gloving is broken…
liquid
finger rolls
tutting
figure eight ∞
wubwubwubBAMwubwubwoosh
wave-like movement…basic thing….wrist in a motion
tutting is like the angles…. not um 〜flowing〜….like tetris
you want to more, rather than following
solid ⸪lights, ⸫single⸭ solid lights⸬
pink to green to orange to yellow to blue
advanced strobe, solid line of color [...] streak of purple
electronic, dustup, elector, house, trance…
you’ll probably never see anyone gloving to like, classical music ♬♪
my name is Henri Geneste and I'm a glover WUBwubwubwubbbWUBWUBAHHHwubwubWUBWUBWUB[ONE][TWO]WUBwubwub[THREE­]
putain c’est magnifique
je me demande si il fait ca la nuit, quand il arrive pas a dormir...
window thing, kind of dumped
either the ours magna or the I equals me squared²
like language, like art, there are rules
go out and break them, just mucking around
fix it, wanna make one, totally your creative decision
how awkward
a bout de souflle
totally revolutionary
ainrr
radical, argue truer, but it's jarring, that's one way to do it!
aware that they're there but not ⑈jarring⑇
close to wide…..there's a cut there but the eye can follow it
um i have to go...
bye henri!!!
bye!
bye man.
see ya monday!
the hair!! im gonna shave it this weekend
I've been to raves
is he, like, a straight-edge?
there's drugs…do you guys ALL go to raves?
how the audio?
looked cool, the rain in the background
DUHDUHDUH that's hard to do
a huge amount, i'm sorry but gloving without the music?
if he does drugs OR NOT, how he's enjoying it OR NOT, if it interferes with his studies OR NOT..
just FYI we were all young yesterday
two bodies
he's here cause he's not going, right?
are you interested?
oh i would be very interested
yeah i see what u mean
you could come with me….i could always take the bus
it'd be cool
moi elle sera belle
here we go!
woah
their audio visuals are not very HOT
hours per day?
1…2 hours a day
sometimes 30mins
mostly people, sometimes like little animals
mostly people
i look at their art a lot
really interesting style
environments
if i want to…how I see them in my head
stuff like that
usually kinda random
i pretty much self taught
mostly from practice
everyone draws…but i got serious about it, like very…6th grade
i don't like the idea of competitions
and mum drawing is like, something that's kinda important
a passion
not sure i would want to go into it as an industry
more than just art
for now im not really sure
alright
so our usual questions
eyeline! thank you
on the couch….at the end it was really weird
who was…sitting where?
where were you?
she didn't really even really look, she was too far away, she just kind of….looked
much…she might not have ever looked
with the eyeline…it was pretty steady, no jerky-herkys, there were several edits
forgive it cause there's enough change
you could follow it, you could see that time had shifted
the content demanded it
WOAH okay now i'm really curious
we could see it, but then it was on the something else
process the image
now we're trying to look at the art, now we need more time
arc? did u feel like there was an ◜arc◝?
umm yeah…..
how many hours a day do u draw?
try to make sensible out of that
is that they use 2 3 four…
uh...cut..i did….cut
the cutting itself is like a commentary on her
since i was little. when i was little
when i was little
but my parents, my family don't
hands and arms
collages, magazines
photography
big part of photography
San Francisco Art institute
graphic animation, we only had like 3 weeks
still lives, models we would draw them
we had like an exposition
the person my mom works with's husband
wanna do an artistic career
alright so
not the greatest projector ever
too much head    space    
a lot of nothing
it makes it a lot more interesting
i think it was okay in the video cause
what she was saying and stuff like that
fair enough but I don't agree
lost in this big sea of wall
you're totally forgiven
no questions
power of a well-placed microphone
fantastic
the beans!
alright
you guys are the wrong audience cause you all know each other's stories
good feedback
movin' on, okay
very frustrating
and now.....surfing! woohoo!!!!
30 loooooong minutes, it's a nightmare!
7 minutes
3 minutes
it's a 10th
there's something fascinating about listening to people…you can do it yourself later
bolinas, del mar, sometimes surface, livermore, ocean beach
......riding the waves…....man….....it's the best feeling
you're walking on water you know? that feeling…….i love the ocean
i love the water, after you get that perfect wave you just feel accomplished
that feeling…..is awesome
surfing, it's all about having fun..
you surf once, and….you know?
if you're a surfer, you have a love for the ocean
my, my grandpa always loved the beach, we would go there at two in the morning and just….
my grandpa died and he asked to be cremated, he wanted his ashes to go in the ocean, so we took his ashes out to the ocean
I remember walking out to the ocean with my dad, we threw his ashes into the ༇wind༅ above the ocean, and we looked down….
we want to get the pain!! and the sorrow! because we're vultures you know? we just zoom in to get his expression
little bit weird
i do, i like it
it's black and white
it's just a surfer, it's not movin', it's there…it's not always the same
sort of echoey
…the ocean, and so i remember my dad taking the….
too much archival? too much? not long enough? both.
there was sort of a disconnect at times
her story, you have to cut
when she says "CAT" i want to see a CAT, when she says "FIRETRUCK" i want to see a FIRETRUCK!!! i was like, okay, i  just went to school…
and now this?
or you see a woman that looks like a cat
it's hard, it's complicated, it's not given
so they just kind of ended
you guys im trying to help them
oh okay
hey you know what no no no you know what don't take any of this personally just be like oh okay
he's got a funny manner of speech
any thing else?
arlo says no
"it would not go well"
what IS the really great ending?
amazing feeling one can have…..
you feel like you own the ocean, like it's heaven on earth
this technique it's called killing your babies…i love that
uh what
he says "uh no no no this is a 3 minute film"
sad but true
we all get attached to things, we don't want to cut them out
just play with it, if you decide
we can schloop
can we watch
not exactly…here's..uh okay a quick heads up
oh
for this summer
advanced lab, art advanced films, screen-writing, animation and more
field trip!! i need to contact your teachers
what day? a thursday
almost all day…nine to three
we would leave here
now im gonna erase this

Sitting
very much alone
on a makeshift bench
out of an old log,
my coffee balanced in
a knot in the wood I've
made into a cup holder,
my feet planted into the
soggy leaf-covered dirt.
I gaze outward onto
the wooden bridge
that aids the passerbyers
of persons and canines to
overstep the pebble-laden
creek.
The air is brisk,
the sun sneaking only
occasional glances at my
solitude
behind a screen of
scattered trees,
tall and thin,
buried in leaves slowly
transitioning from green to
yellow.
I ponder on how
brave everyone has
said I am,
that they could never do
what I'm doing,
like I'm some sort
of war hero.
I laugh slightly to myself,
for, I wonder, how much
moxy does it really take
to sit on an
abandoned stump in the
woods, fighting off
tears of loneliness and
anxiety?
Aren't those who are
brave not so
chock full of doubt,
not clinging to a pen
and a notebook in
hopes of dispelling
waves of woes?
The wind blows by me
once more as if to
reassure me that
my newfound spot of
singularity is exactly
where I am supposed to
be, so I go back to
watching the passerbyers, or,
momentarily,
the lack thereof,
sipping my coffee
and soaking in my new
surroundings.

Laura required for each discovered protein species
the glory of heaven received in the yellow Sun lover's
Developers play Speaker Nancy Zero;
harmless administrative darkness leads to the pain
of a senior high degree stripper, Tom soon has a dog
tortured in the presence of Glover,   a toning, weight
Equipment spur of the moment born lady she gave
birth to talk about the glory of God is in the city, ||||||||
a group of Grip 155, into the basin of communication,
because the angels were watching a mirror from
its solid gold acid bacteria and to feel a sense of
the history of poodles gold,   the kinds of the blood
of the transfusion of the blood of the guilt of
bloodshed on the ability of the blood of Apodemus
a young woman to the nose, rather shows that
the opposite of your conversation as his right,
[n.G] noble ladies at the nose rather show the
opposite behavior that led to the right of the law
is a proof of the garden and the woods evening
Keeping the needle in the evening and the gold
that our monster hair G em heaven and the former
dies beginnings F center entirely Lẹẹlọwọ fire ||||||
during the night in parts if the black pepper
500 name and blood Apodemus Communication
is required for each discovered a protein species
in the glory of the heavens being married blonde
sun lover's Developers Menu play talks to Vicki,
failing to be a harmless administrator of the dark
leading consumer's to older, higher levels of strippers,
Tom, quickly Canis,              |  a genus of the Canidae
containing multiple extant species,
such as wolves, coyotes, jackals, dingoes,     and dogs.
Species of this genus are distinguished by their
moderate to large size, their massive,
well-developed
skulls and dentition, long legs,       and comparatively
short ears and tails. torture present Glover,
toning the body armor;   Spurring ladies to noble talk
of glory in the state group Grip 155 in a basin
of communication that angels keep a glass of dry
gold acid bacteria and feel a sense of history
poodles the gold that was by the samples
of the blood of the transfusion of the blood
of the guilt of bloodshed on the ability of the blood
of Apodemus and the ******, that is to the nose,
rather shows, that the opposite of ways to the right ||
of the law, then he took him by the experiment
of the garden of God for the work of the offering
given, in the evening, the observance of a needle,
the Savior of the monster, gem of the evening
and the hair of the head, blond hair, which perishes
even caelu and in their death, I want to be more beautiful,
the transfer of blood is the blood
of the enemy of the nose is out of the conversation
is in the blood of many a ******, Apodemus
||
Laura is required for any protein discovered
in the glory of the sky received Yellow Lord
of Love's Adonis developers playing Nancy,
Nancy's loud dark executive voice leads to the pain
of a senior high-class stripper, Tom soon has a current
Glowering tortured dog, Gwen, the weight of a lady
born the moment she was born to talk about |
The honor of God is in the city, a group of foothold 155,
into the media basin, because the angels
looked at the mirror from its solid gold acid acids
and to feel a sense of the history of gold poodles, |
the blood types of transfusion of blood
and guilt of bloodshed on the ability of the blood
of an Epodemus A young woman nose, but shows
that the opposite of your conversation as the right,
night's noble back; On the nose instead of showing ||||
the opposite behavior that led to the right
of the law is proof of the garden
and the evening forest keeping the needle
in the evening and the golden hair that our monster
G sky and the former dead beginnings at F center
completely Lẹllww אש fire during the night
in parts if pper black 500 na , And Apodemus' blood;
blood required for all discovered *** proteins
in the glory of the sky to be married to the blonde
sun's love menu developers to play calls Vicki
failed harmful administrative leads of the older
consumers of the highest level strippers;
Tom's canis torture was present in Glover,
toning body armor spurs ladies from the nobility
to speak for glory in the state group grasping
155 in the communication basin that angels
keep a glass dry; bacteria of gold acids and feel
a sense of history of the golden poodles
which was by the blood samples of infusion
of blood and guilt of bloodshed
on the ability of the blood of Epodimus and the ******,
i.e. the nose,
but shows that the opposite of the ways on the right side
of the law, it took him by the experiment of God's Garden
on the work of the given issue, in the evening,
the grace of the needle, the savior of the monster,
the pearl of the evening and the hair of the head,
blond hair, which even die caelu and their death,
I want to be more beautiful, The enemy of the nose is out
of the conversation in the blood of many of the ****** Epodimus.

Chapter 1: Red Dust and Neon Ghosts

Mars had been humanity’s first dream of escape.
By 2133, it was little more than a cosmic cul-de-sac — a cracked monument to ambition, left to collect dust and bad poetry.

The Youngston Gate had changed everything. Now ships skimmed the edges of the solar system in days, not years. Stars called louder than Mars ever could. The Red Planet, once sacred, became a punchline.

Mann’s Olympus Casino and Hotel clung to the slopes of Olympus Mons like a bad tattoo nobody could laser off, buzzing defiantly under a layer of drifting rust.

Named after Robert J. Mann — a man whose ego once rivaled the mountain itself — the casino was now a hospice for broken dreams. Its letters flickered in and out: “M _ _ N’S OL _ _ P _ _”, blinking like tired eyelids trying to stay awake during a boring sermon.

Inside, the smell of old synthetic whiskey, burnt insulation, and Red Velvet opioids poisoned the recycled air. Gravity stuttered just enough to make every step feel like drunken prayer. The carpet peeled, the walls wept condensation, and the neon wept more quietly still.

Most of Mars' remaining human inhabitants weren’t here for the scenery.
They lingered like soggy parade confetti — forgotten, grimy, and too much trouble to sweep away.

The last act of the night was a woman whose name had once meant something —
Elaine Moon.

Chapter 2: Reflections in a Cracked Mirror

Elaine Moon sat backstage under a bank of vanity lights that buzzed like tired flies.
The mirror showed not a starlet, not even a relic — but something more stubborn.

She was fifty-something — she'd stopped counting when years became background radiation.
Her fingers ached with old betrayals: high kicks performed for half-interested audiences, songs mouthed for drunk nostalgics, bows for ghosts.

Once, when Mars still sold dreams, Elaine had been electric — breathing messy life into AI legends who had been programmed to shine but never sweat.
She had been a bridge, a mockery, a prayer disguised as a punchline.

But nostalgia rots faster than hope on a dying planet.

Tonight, staring into the cracked mirror, she realized something different.
Elaine Moon had been a necessary lie.

Beneath the layer of foundation and forced grins, the truth stirred:

Sarah Glover.

She wiped away the makeup — not neatly, not delicately. Just wiped. Like peeling away a dead skin.

Sarah.
Who once sang real songs in ***** crater bars, drunk on cheap wine and younger lungs.
Who once believed her voice could make the stars ache.

She had been buried beneath years of survival.
Not tonight.

Sarah Glover stood up from the chair.
No fanfare.
No safety net.

Just her own cracked voice waiting to be used honestly, one last time.

Chapter 3: The Last Song on Mars

The stage was a rectangle of failing light floating above a swamp of dim, unbothered shadows.
Gravity sighed at every step, pulling unevenly at her boots.
The air smelled like old plastics trying to pretend they were still new.

Sarah — not Elaine, never again Elaine — stepped into the wan spotlight.

No announcement.
No persona.

She leaned into the mic, rough and real:

"I'm Sarah."

A few heads lifted, blinking slowly as if trying to remember if they should care.

She keyed the battered synth, its panels held together by duct tape and stubborn hope.
It coughed out a C-major chord like a mechanical death rattle.

And Sarah sang.

Her voice cracked like dry riverbeds.
It floated unevenly, stuttering against the stale casino air.
But it was alive.

"Dust forgets the footprints it holds.
Stars bleed themselves dry for nothing.
And still, we sing."

Her fingers fumbled the bridge, and she laughed — a real, sharp, unsweetened laugh — before weaving her voice back into the crumbling melody.

The casino lights dimmed as she finished —
like dying fireflies giving up the fight.

A single clumsy clap echoed from somewhere in the back, colliding awkwardly with the silence.

Sarah bowed — not to the burnouts, not to the ruins, not to the drunk ghosts of memory —
but to the stubborn ember inside herself that had refused to go out.

Behind her, Elaine Moon crumbled like the dust she had always imitated.

Ahead of her, Mars stretched on — empty, tired, waiting for nothing.

Sarah Glover stepped into the neon-soaked dark, the hum of dying signs trailing behind her like a broken lullaby.

Somewhere beyond the Youngston Gate, humanity sprinted into new mistakes.
But here, on a broken rock under a leaking sky,
one true voice had risen, trembled, and vanished.

And for once,
that was enough.

By: C edric McClester

Where or when shall I begin
With this explanation
Black boys look like men
Or should it suffice for me to say
A black man of 51 passed for 20 that day
The perpetrators mentioned
On the police radio call
Were both in the their twenties
And both were tall

Now lets look at the facts in this case
So as not to proceed with undue haste
His stepfather was tall but Clifford was short
I guess killing some people is still an in sport
Now to hear officer Shea tell it
Young Clifford was armed
And he was in fear of ****** harm
So the police searched
Both day and night
But no gun was ever found
On that site
Yet Shea said he fired
In self-defense
I guess from his perspective
It made perfect sense


(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved

The Poetry Barn wasn’t really a barn
It was merely an old farm house,
It sat on the acres of Eddington’s Farm,
Surrounded by sheep and by cows.
But Poets came over from Stuttersby Dell,
Drove over from Scatabout Wood,
To write in the air of the Poetry Barn
About things, when they ought and they should.

They came from Great Orton, they came from Rams Well,
They came from Glenn Wheatley and Grey,
The best and the worst of the poets you’d find
At the Poetry Barn, every day,
The rooms had been empty for many a year
So they all sat on bundles of straw,
And when they ran out they would send up a shout,
So some would go out and get more.

The mornings would see all the Elegies worked,
The Epics, the Odes and Quatrains,
The Poetry Barn would then grumble and groan
As the Dirges would enter the drains.
By noon the fair Sonnets came into their own
With just the odd wanton Lament,
When poets would seek out the culprit to find
One grinding his verse in a tent.

By evening they’d work on the Pastoral,
The Sestet, the Roundel as well,
And those at a loss after losing the toss
Would be stuck with the old Villanelle,
They’d all settle down when the Moon came up round,
And the stars twinkled boldly in rhyme,
When one asked the other, ‘pray, what rhymes with brother,’
And he’d say, ‘your Mom, all the time.’

The poems would stick to the inside walls,
Would tear at each other like knaves,
They’d fill up the aisles and lie flat on the tiles
And would damage the old architraves.
At night you could hear all the horses hooves
As they carried the good news to Aix,
And in came the wedding guest, him with the albatross
Counting his many mistakes.

I saw that they’d burned down the Poetry Barn
With one sad, incendiary rhyme,
A poet called Glover who wrote to his lover
‘My candle, you light all the time.’
The straw caught alight in his lover’s delight
And they fled from that bastion of verse,
I just penned this missal for someone to whistle,
The one that he’d written was worse.

David Lewis Paget

I


These walls of my prison hath endured many ,                
suffering and suffocation,                                                     ­            
to me, they are the sweet calling of                                 
 liberation.  

Nature, how you reminisce life and death,                             
come to my disposal today,                                                         
a­nd see the man.                                                                              who will dance at his decay.

When the noose tightens round my neck,                                        
I shall be smiling at the angel of death,                                             
who hath finally come to my rescue, O you lightening! Then   show yourself, mark the moment when my misery is dead.        

II                    
                                                                ­                                                 This world hath been my prison, my life thunder accursed.    The day I was born, I heard wars emerged.                                 
My mother who awarded me life showered me with love,            until I was poached at five, by a human trafficker.

He took me to a land far way.  ****** hades,                
enrobed me in smelly rags and paraded me through streets.       Since I wasn’t pitied, he cut my left hand.                                  
And hence came a shower of pennies.  

Pennies that went in his pockets and                                   
sufficed his villainy.                                                        ­                     
I was granted a plate of grub in return,                                        and perhaps no whipping if the pennies were his satisfaction.

And he comes home drunk one night,                                          his inebriated body betraying his senses.                               
Ready as a bird who is to take flight,                                                
I slashed him with his own dagger violating his defenses.

III

Henceforth I began to tarry,                                                         penniless and aggrieved.                                                       ­        
The world hath plenteous monsters,                                             
and I met my piece.

As I slept on the frozen streets of this cursed land,             
hunger clenched my stomach.                                                      Sick was the art of begging, a remnant of my stained past,      
but I knew no other.

Outside a fruit shop, I saw an old man buying yield.                     I fell at his legs and begged: “Prithee give me a morsel of food,    it wilt save my life."                                                                     ­   
But **** he gave me too much and taught me slavery.                                       
With my one hand,  
I swept his house and dusted his medallions.                          
That he hath earned courageously                                                  
on­ blood bathed battalions.

And one day, his ruddy daughter comes back home.              
Her name, Messina Oehme.                                                           ­  
O Messina, whence thee hath come from, paradise?                 Thy pulchritude is a vision fixated within my eyes.
                                                                ­                                                  Thou art like the first rain in a desert,                                             or an Alchemist’s prized long-yearned stone,                               At the touch of which,                                                           ­        
even dust turns gold.
                                                                ­    
Thy eyes deep wells of lust,                                                       
wher­e I want to see our future compart.                                    
Thy pale skin like the fantastic summer sky,                                 
a glance at which burned my heart.

I quoth, O Messina, let me not smolder alone in passion,      
thine art my souls only desire.                                                    
Even the grace of saints,                                                        
couldn’t unshackle me from love’s holy fire.

But misfortune hath come my way.                                            
Thy swinish father wedded you off to that wicked Glover.    
And at thy wedding I fixed the chairs,                                         
thy one sided lover.

But O Messina! Thy art still the summer that brightens my life.   I became an hourglass, thine love, my sand,
slowly pouring to the bottom of my heart, 
yet never vanquished from my soul’s devastated land.
                                                           ­                                                       And I remember when thee came to stay at father’s house.
I saw wicked Glover bruising thy angelic skin. 
He hurt and discolored an angel. 
The heavens thundered in protest on this mortal sin.

Rage devoured my soul, as I heard thy shrieks,
more horrific than the trumpet of doom.  
I picked up my dagger and impaled his heart.  
If evil fails to transport a fiend, then love does, to his tomb.

That madman deserved his pudh death. My dear Messina,
thee wilt live free. But thee looked at death empty and desolate heated. I quoth: “I gave you my life.”  
That was the last night I saw thee, thy love defeated.  

IV

Why a man who loved so incessantly,  
will end up hearing the knell. 
Prithee God, if heaven at a fountain of love, 
Make my fate into the fire of hell.

Even if I write as much as the sea,
I cannot explain my misfortune in epistolary,  
Who wrought dole dost naught justice, 
to some it gave fulsome, to some nary.

In a scribble
grammar-sphere
Covid-spastic-wormholes
from a new world intelligence.

Come on dudes this is a personal invite
who-ever own the guru-rules out there
come clear make contact
let's boogie on Bach
eat together with Spock,
vegans are welcome too
no disecting
no probes
no props
only sunlight strobes
just the few of us
a humpback tv
Danny Glover, Aeon flux
and Spielberg,
indulged in mars bars and smoked-yeast,
if the kitchen heats up I'll offer you
oil Sheik in galaxian crude dip with
elongated Musk on fire and ice.

Kelly, Hines and Glover
separated by generations
and great individually
in the discipline of TAP
The step-ball-change
pioneers of this stylized
form of expression
changed the game for all
The timing, rhythm and
innovation wowed the
world over and their
legacies carry on
Kelly, Hines and Glover
all hall of fame worthy,
inspire new generations
to leap, sand glide and
soft shoe on wood boards
We remain in awe of
the skills required to
perform at the elite
level of greatness
Many amazing women
and men have come and
gone and we bow to the
excellence in craft
My appreciation does
not go unlooked and I
look forward to others
to take up the mantle
and continue to TAP.

Somewhere between
Hunter S. Thompson and
Charlie Mackenzie,
I find myself to be
something
it throws me loops.

Somewhere between
Clark Gable and
Crispin Glover,
I am stuck in
a whirlwind
of perspective.

Somewhere between
Justin Timberlake and
Biz Markie,
I sit silently
wondering how
I got here.

Somewhere between
The Waterloo Bridge and
Westminster Abbey,
an American boy
misplaced
his mind.

I understand pain can be found worldwide,
And pain can teach us things in life that can be applied,
To love and relationships alongside,
The fact that she has me feeling like Mr. Brightside,
What's the lesson I'm supposed to learn here,
To be strong, secure, solid, stable, and preserver,
I would rather trash feelings and disappear,
Getting right up and out of this putrid atmosphere,
Kiss me when you're high, love me when you're sober,
Reject me when you're sober, then crap, it's all over,
I can't portray reality like Donald Glover,
And I can't make you feel better in this month of October,
Getting with you would be like finding a four-leaf clover,
But I'll continue writing until I get a lot older.

Can we be best friends in love dear
Can we grow old together?
I wanna be by your side for the years and years to come
Can we fall like feathers
Falling softly for one another
I wanna be here for you through the good and the bad my love

-Abbey Glover

Our love was Crimson and glover over and over you had this loco Rollin over like rover
I told you that I loved ya and ill do anything for ya we were on hit like a swisher full of doeja. I was your soldier, you always had a shoulder to lay your head on just in case u lost composure.
I loved you to the moon my star, we were together for a minute but we didn't get far cause of changing times you wanted something different you feeling different vibes.
All that jive our love was something beautiful I held it up with pride.
I ain't gonna lie my Cora did cry but now it's best that we both say goodbye alarto c'ya

You really did this loco ***** you said that you would wait but ended this love in such a hurry.
You killed my heart when you said goodbye
You buried me when you meet that other guy.
Why lie? Why lie?
Cause I really didn't need to hear all that but hey it's a new time different day no strings attached so everything is Fair play.
I'm ok now knowing that you had to get away
You should of just told me that you had something to say.
But anyway
we had some good times and we had some bad.
We had some happy laughs and we dropped some tears that would make even angles feel sad. Cause
Our love was the ****, like that go fast everyone wants a hit.
We were the spark but couldn't keep the flame lit.
You found me I lost you. To
The game and those things you like to do.
I was the fool.
U played with.
Now your the fool who came with strings and silly things like your smile full of lie and the deceiving looks from eyes that don't cry.
Alarto c'ya.

What is Valintine's day when one has not on equal response?
Family had gone.
Friends are busy with their lovers.
I feel like I'm in a war movie with Danny Glover.
The lone hours eat my sanity away like acid.
Bubbling and smoking.
Hurting and scaring.
Then here comes the antidote.
I strong will instead of ever wearing an insanity straight jacket coat.
Complaining?
Nope.
Strength is worth sharing.
With those out there, whom I've never met
Who are reading this and start caring.
This day is what you make it.
This day is an anniversary of my survival.
Thinking back
Circumstance took them away
Now comes another sunny day.
The anniversary of my heart's revival.
Our survival

Golden Witch Desert Paradise Burning
chip revolutionary milk under cover of spirit
still loving spring sleeps China's color gun;
Date of blessing Eva keeps the course, Laura
in purple mist, Decapitated antes, Oh, mother!
Painful, big stars see the foolishness of green
lethal old trees focused on the product of love
and || love, who moves in the Unborn express
in the dark to whom Mr. Huang plays
a young man, Johann? Add the right direction.
And this is the experiment on the same night,
and night and in the garden of God's center
"yellow at night", and went and held by a pin:
fiery death of Lewellyn, dragon and it would
be from FG black, 500 pages filled with white
blood at each stage production and Adunrina
in the cup we are looking for him: for himself
should bring Vikic from the dead,   Tom in another
form in the head of dog food, sandbags
and old Glover, male armed groups in the city
and pulled Kim Kim Cup Cup out of him
and other tools so that in glory, how much
is in the blood of goiri, which is given in the beast
and poodles and ideas to secure his crime
and the fish of the ****** of gold
and the size of the nose; this is checked
in the area of ​​experience here
in the garden order to show, dinner
and long hair, blond hair has ****** dying
death is enough to pay a certain superiority
and resurrecting the Savior's face.

Where to start,
don’t know where to begin,
coronavirus has the whole globe scared,
trying to stay balanced as the world spins,

and I don’t drink but pour me some gin,
I’m way down going rounds all in,
want to help the planet don’t know how to save it,
praying for redemption,

black white old young,
discrimination is an illusion woman or man,
truth so bright it hurts the eyes,
in the sun soul got a tan,

where are you at,
before we check out let’s check in,
suicide not an option so what’s the plan b,
pen in my hand is a lethal weapon,

no Danny Glover or Mel Gibson,
just a car with no roof firing pistons,
and if Death was at my door last night,
I didn’t notice and missed Him,

feels like it’s all about to end,
forget a lover I just need a friend,
because I’m not feeling ****** these days,
heck I don’t know if I’m feeling anything,

this is an Ode To Those That Know,
or at least to those that still show,
some sort of emotional intelligence,
anyways whatever hello from the other side it’s time to go,

but to where is the question,
as you sit there staring at this screen,
self isolation world in tribulation,
please let me know if you know what I mean,

where to start,
don’t know where to begin,
coronavirus has the whole globe scared,
trying to stay balanced as the world spins…

∆ LaLux ∆

3/20

He read books. He read books. He read books.  He read books. He read books!

You need a cape cause dame you fly,
For this ride you gon' need a seatbelt
I'll drive you crazy and let the seat melt
Never took Molly but Molly took me hell...
..Ha Heaven knows that it's a cheap thrill.

My past tell me that I need help my future never pick up the phone now
Neglect my family for my own tales
Cause I ***** the fairy of its own tales.
Distance lover became my worst song
They wanna bad guy mix Danny Glover
Old Micheal plus stupid rich the one that won't talk foolishness but sell the Sh
So I'm fooling them a good guy that's been lying that he's hurt but have a smile cause he made it threw it when honestly deep down in his heart he's full of heartbreak and smarter then the average rich kid cause money can't buy happiness so I smile cause I'm really smiling over some stupid sh and breaking over my ignorance

Dr. Cohen:  How could he do it, this son of a glover? Not a royal. Not a military man. Not an Earl. Not a Duke. An ordinary glover's son. How could he become the world's greatest playwright?









He read books.  He read books. He read books! He read books! He read books. He read books. He read books!

In pain I want for nothing,
It's slain my lust for *******,
In vain I shan't be working,
To gain a woman's raw thing.

**** for a magic potion,
Sliced by a druid's sickle,
I rub it in like lotion,
To cause my seed to trickle.

The lambda is the Greek-L,
But even those gods - fickle
In lending me the mir'cle :
Insertion of a full-grown dickle.

(Now my song is over,
You heard it there in Dover,
Unless drown'd by your lover.
I'll stick to my ***** glover.)