My lipstick

My lipstick a deep shade of burgundy
Traced outline of my imprint on the inner most part of your thigh
Excites me!
Thoughts leave me lingering rolling around in your bed
Kisses like foot prints of a path to your navel
My lipstick compliments your skin tone
He grabs the delicate
Splendor the curvature
Which is ***?
Mounted upon strength
Switching places a dispiteous
Gaze of disambiguation and a subtle smile
Might be here for awhile
My lipstick
Smeared along your neck deep crimson
Leaves intricate detail of mouth on
Caramel colored skin. Sweet like a work of art
My lipstick traced outline on the inner most part
Of your thigh.


Written by MONICA CHRISANDTRAS HINES

Men give less value to a Promiscuous or immoral woman, and sometime she’s a victim not the circumstance, why do men hold less value to the hurt that is caused because they heard you get around or you trusted them with your secrets?

Some choose to pursue a faithless, unworthy, or idolatrous desire only to find out this person  this ***** does have a heart and *** is not meaningless ,to scurry around and bounce from bed to bed giving disregard to the countless broken hearts laid by a path of deceitful pleasure should you be so lucky??
Who gives a **** about a ***** or ***** or *******, they’ll get over it, there used to it, does it not come with the job or there easy! Not always true even a ***** needs love or the ******* needs genuine affection.
Why do you not care enough to hold them and or ease their pain if their hurting as well ,defined love and what’s valuable to you ….I don’t care about her I hurt my family but you cared enough to slip your **** up in her …and or have it ****** !
****** have feelings too!
You took your time and played out the situation, found a vulnerable place to lay you head even enjoyed getting in between this *****'s legs ,now you’re feeling some sort of way and she has to go because after all she’s a ***** and the pleasure was mutual, she was your refuge an open ear in your time of need ..But she still a *****!
WHY bother??
written by Monica Chrisandtras Hines

There is a song, each of has one.
It is that song that you listen to not once, not twice,
but over and over again.
This song I loved, and put it aside, 'lost' it,
and this afternoon, on a drive to Monterey a year ago,
it found me again.
Below are the words.
Find a video of Richie Havens (see the notes) singing it.
It is a song that you will listen to not once, not twice,
but over and over again, for when he cries out
follow, you will.

Why today?
For a number of reasons.  Primarily, because the first rock festival to change the nation was the 1967 10th Anniversary of the Monterey Jazz Festival, a crossover, because, Richie and Janis Joplin were included and exploded the world, paving the way for Woodstock, the festival heard round the world, where Richie was the opening act!

The headliners were: T-Bone Walker, B. B. King, Richie Havens, the Clara Ward Singers, Dizzy Gillespie Quintet, Modern Jazz Quartet, Ornette Coleman Quartet, Carmen McRae, Earl "Fatha" Hines, Richie Havens, and Big Brother & The Holding Company w/Janis Joplin.

Teach your children well, their father's hell will slowly go by...Crosby Stills and Nash

Soon it will be six months since Richie passed (April 22, 2014).
Patty M. reminded of Van Morrison today, and it in turn, brought me to this place, where my heart resided a year ago today.


*FOLLOW
(Words by Jerry Merrick)

Let the river rock you like a cradle
Climb to the treetops, child, if you’re able
Let your hands tie a knot across the table.
Come and touch the things you cannot feel.
And close your fingertips and fly where I can’t hold you
Let the sun-rain fall and let the dewy clouds enfold you
And maybe you can sing to me the words I just told you,
If all the things you feel ain’t what they seem.
And don’t mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream.

The mocking bird sings each different song
Each song has wings - they won’t stay long.
Do those who hear think he's doing wrong?
While the church bell tolls its one-note song
And the school bell is tinkling to the throng.
Come here where your ears cannot hear.
And close your eyes, child, and listen to what I’ll tell you
Follow in the darkest night the sounds that may impel you
And the song that I am singing may disturb or serve to quell you
If all the sounds you hear ain’t what they seem,
Then don’t mind me ‘cos I ain’t nothin’ but a dream.

The rising smell of fresh-cut grass,
Smothered cities choke and yell with fuming gas;
I hold some grapes up to the sun
And their flavour breaks upon my tongue.
With eager tongues we taste our strife
And fill our lungs with seas of life.
Come taste and smell the waters of our time.
And close your lips, child, so softly I might kiss you,
Let your flower perfume out and let the winds caress you.
As I walk on through the garden, I am hoping I don’t miss you
If all the things you taste ain’t what they seem,
Then don’t mind me ‘cos I ain’t nothin’ but a dream.

The sun and moon both are right,
And we’ll see them soon through days of night
But now silver leaves on mirrors bring delight.
And the colours of your eyes are fiery bright,
While darkness blinds the skies with all its light.
Come see where your eyes cannot see.
And close your eyes, child, and look at what I’ll show you;
Let your mind go reeling out and let the breezes blow you,
Then maybe, when we meet, suddenly I will know you.
If all the things you see ain't what they seem,
Then don’t mind me ‘cos I ain’t nothin’ but a dream .
And you can follow; And you can follow; follow…

*****

Men sometimes put no value to *** and the sacred decision a woman might hold dear for the reason to
Submit options of letting you indulge in her essences. See some have had men all over the world and there is one thing for
Sure that ***** has a name never a face, Mumu , myse ,kisse, pepita, catellus, passera, mita it  all mean
The same thing *****, *****, *****. And the truth of the matter is your sometimes not remembered or
Even thought about once you give the ***** up!
So guard and respect your ***** and you’ll be wiser for not giving it up, I thought of all the times I
Gave up my ***** and grieving the next day he was gone, nothing but a memory of the ****** he either didn’t
Or did put on! I have disrespected my body for a moment of pleasure far too valuable to get rid of, and
The 15 minutes or less or if I’m lucky an hour of pleasure soon will be forgotten as he’s on to the next one
Or back with his main love or the one whose holding out, but she worth waiting for.
***** is abuse sometimes tainted with the smell of ***** left inside you with your naïve ***, I’m not going
Anywhere imma be here for you, trust me so the ***** stinks reeks of disappointment!
As they get dressed to leave a delicate kiss on the forehead and a polite thanks for the *****!
Don’t be this chick (hold out on giving up the *****, be known for your worth)
You’re so much more than *** or *****! I now know my worth!

Written by Monica Chrisandtras Hines 9/16/2014

Broken Spirit

As I watch the water flow from my hands
A glance in the mirror reminds me that I’m still human
& the heart must break to heal.
Graphic and detailed memories
Of a broken Spirit. I’ve succumb  to the darkness & of the pain I felt, losing my breath was the easiest thing to do. Walking amongst the crowd pity was not felt! Truly deserving ROARS of laughter
Foolish Broken spirit
The L on my forehead would depict a loser so I was marked and shamed named a *****
For a performance held behind closed doors
Embarrassed and Broken
Cause lack of knowledge furthered the humiliation of this woman
The anticipation of anxious hands grasped this angelic ***
And once more giving into a lie as I laid there naked and confused
Broken Spirit
A mouth full of *** not swallowed bothered me as his lips curved happy
Was he, I lost my respect somewhere on bended knee
And so unsure was he as he pulls his pants up and walks out
The door leaving me with this Broken Spirit…

I’m keeping my head up!!!

Thanks for the advice(M)
Written By Monica Chrisandtras Hines

I Use To Love Him
To remember love the way it had been, in the beginning of it all.
Our first kiss, holding hands, our first-morning breakfast together
And the memories we created, the pictures imprinted
In our minds of happiness, the sheer wonder of new love & how good
It felt to love somebody.
To argue & makeup, cry and suddenly feel the temporary sting
Of disappointment & heartbreak just to get back together again
Unconditional  love.
I use to love him
Leaving clothes around the house & watching the T.V way too loud
As annoying & distracting his presence was felt, a smile crosses my ******* face
As he manages to make me laugh
I use to love him
The way he held me close as we cuddled on the couch, I’d fall asleep in his lap or the
Private moments of loves embrace, his caresses soothes my childlike mood and my
eager enthusiasm to remove his clothes he reminds me, patients was essential
In reaching my goals, I fell in love with him
The one I let get away!
I use to love him!
Written by Monica C. Hines

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.

it is a relaxing place the library,
free rental on a dvd if you borrow
books.

a barry hines. all creatures great
and small.the enemy within, a short
history of witch hunting, recommended

by the boston globe, and a guide to
the king james bible, the english language,
words like begat, horribly afraid, goats and swine.

a lovely children’s illustrated for inspiration, delight.

we built blocks, read jokes, talked of mending,
forgot our toys.

i read asher lev….

the dvd didn work.

sbm,

I came from abuse, I came from sorrow.
What happened yesterday doesn't determine tomorrow.
I remember the past so vividly, peoples preconceptions about who I was gonna be
People in my old city thought they knew me
We in a world where we believe in fixed reality
The person you were yesterday isn't who you have to be
Ignorant people talking about , "It's just your destiny"
Stop complaining about life and be free
Do what you want, be who you want to be.
Went from the streets to a student at Seattle University
Nothing is fixed, transform your reality
-Kim Hines

I'm Possible
I am possible because of God
I am possible because two forces or unacquainted love, was brought together to create greatness ME!
We are all possible and uniquely designed, Fat, tall, skinny, short, ugly, cute who are you to judge we are possibly the greatest thing God has ever created and powerful.
I’m possible and exonerated from the sins of my past in fact was told I was lazy, I'd amount to nothing, poor with no class……. Low self-esteem stupid giving up the ***.
It’s possible to change and be someone of good character, however, those demons never let you forget what you were & who and perhaps  what you did.
I’m possible, God changed me and I will admit I have my setbacks, I backslide but it’s possible to ask for forgiveness and move on.
We are all possible and anything is possible if you believe that your dreams and our goals are attainable.
Be possible be great
We are here because God made it possible.
Thinking out loud, written by Monica Chrisandtras Hines

I was born 6 lbs. 9 oz. with blond hair and blue eyes.
I was also born gay
Soon after my uneventful birth
I was given the name Ember Hines,
but this wasn't the only name I would be called.
As I got older,
and came to terms with my sexuality ,
people started replacing Ember with ****** or *****.
Constantly ridiculing me for something I had no control over.
I am anorexic.
And you would think people would ridicule me for this instead of me being gay.
Surely they would see how unhealthy it was
and see that in comparison liking girls was no big deal.
No, they applauded me complementing my toothpick wrists
and porcelain bones peeking through my too thin skin.
How could I not fall in love with my illness?
Every calorie I counted
and every pound I dropped made me feel prettier.
Every meal I skipped,
every sip I didn't take,
got me closer to perfect. 
Every day that I felt fainter  
was a day that I could celebrate being thin,
And forget that I was gay.
Halfway through my freshman year
I had come out, recovered, and collected my being once more,
but
By that same summer I relapsed.
Riddled with anxiety and pain, realizing I may not be the gender I was born as, being home alone for days on end,
I sought after an old friend who brought me comfort even in my own bruised skin,
anorexia.
Everyday I felt dizzier,
was a day my mind couldn't  register the gay thoughts.
Instead of spending time with my "boyfriend" or friends, I spent hours googling how many calories are in a stick of gum and how many calories you burn chewing that gum for an hour. It burns 11 calories while the gum is only 10.
-1
I became so obsessed with that negative number, because something in my mind had changed.
Positive became negative.
Being gay stayed in the back of my mind   And as the number on the scale took its place in my focus
Anything I gained soon became guilty cries
Anything I lost became a celebratory glass of water.
And I got lost in the victory, because who doesn't like to win?
In between my nonexistent meals I watched anorexia documentaries like church sermons.
I wasn't supposed to go to church anyways, I liked girls
I watched them over and over
Not deterred by how unhealthy these people were,
but entranced by how their bodies  were so sharp and how they seemed so frail.
How each of their pale figures were slim enough to wrap an arm around
In my time at private school I knew what loneliness felt like.
I was the poorest and
Weirdest.
I was the only one without a dad.
So I got bullied, by middle school I had thought about killing myself
In 8th grade things looked up
But when I looked down,
I saw a chubby body destined to be with another girl.
I never forgot how alone I felt
Now I feel that feeling in my stomach
Stomach acid accompanied by small morsels of low calorie foods.
Small body shaking from the cold of emptiness.
A lot of times anorexia has a nasty side effect of depression.
In most cases one causes the other
You feel depressed and not good enough so you starve yourself to feel better
Then comes the brief happiness of accomplishment
Then tumbling fall of
"What have I done to myself?"
So now I ask you, would you spend your days counting your calories just to see your bones?
Would you starve yourself to forget you were gay?
Would you lose yourself to be perfect?

the **** kids gaol  episode 1




today the **** kid met up with billy marcus, who was the most evil serial killer in

this country and this was mighty hard for him to figure out the right reforming tool, because

despite killing all these people, billy showed no remorse for his victims  and the **** kid got

on the computer to search for ways to make billy perform to reform, and that made the **** kid

so devious and cunning in his plan, yes, the **** kid thought, billy will host a game show and

each week he will meet the families of each of his victims, and boy they were so ******* with billy, the

**** kid had to nail down the furniture and when the first episode of the show came, the first guest was

margaret roe, who was the aunty of harriett roe, who was the 12 year old girl billy bashed and murdered

and to revenge the death of harriett, margaret threw 25 tins of spaghetti all over billy, and the second guest

was rodney palmer, who was victim’s louise hines best friend, and everything he wanted to do to billy was illegal

so rodney threw red paint  all over billy, which made billy stink of turpentine but there were many more victims, but

the **** kid said, that is it for the day, and then the **** kid brought out george and brad, who were the brotherly love team

who robbed banks all over melbourne and sydney, and the **** kid put them in a drama group so they can learn how not

to be antisocial, and this was a fun time for the terrible two as the **** kid got them to write their problems out of them

and there was a lot of fake nice in the stories and the **** kid knew they were fake nice, just for reading it and then said

how about next week you act these stories out, and i will edit them and put them on AAA TV and we’ll start the day with

brad in the morning and i can see you should prepare your work and then robert noristine who killed 44 people in various bank robberies

was brought in and straight away the **** kid thought straight away that he could do the weather for brad in the morning and while

brad read the news, robert did the weather, telling each person know the weather forecast and brad had some great guests

like the lord mayor, yetta timpson and at the end of each show brad and robert were pelted with oranges and lemons, and boy did

they hurt, and it got so wild, the guards had to break it up and the **** kid took the prisoners back to their cells to get ready for dinner

and talk about life behind bars being famous, the **** kids way

The Pandemic in Six-Word Memoirs
“The world has never felt smaller.”

By Larry Smith
Mr. Smith is the creator of Six Word Memoirs.

Since 2006, I’ve been challenging people to describe their lives in six words, a form I call the six-word memoir — a personal twist on the legendary six-word story attributed to Ernest Hemingway: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

I’ve found that some of the most memorable six-word stories arise in the extremes — during our toughest and most joyous moments. So over the past several months, I’ve asked adults and children around the country to use the form to make sense of this moment in history: one person, one story, and six words at a time.

Not a criminal, but running masked.
— Stella Kleinman

Every day’s a bad hair day.
— Leigh Giza

Home ec: rationing butter, bourbon, sanity.
— Christine Triano

Cinemagraph
Can’t smell the campfire on Zoom.
— Melanie Abrams

Deserted crowded Manhattan, my own island …
— Elisa Shevitz

Eighth hour of YouTube. Send Help!
— Leela Chandra

Cinemagraph
Messy hair, messy room, messy thoughts.
— Lily Herman

I regret saying, “I hate school.”
— Riana Heffron

Read every book in the house.
— Francesca Gomez-Novy

Cinemagraph
Never-ending, but boredom doesn’t faze me.
— Lily Gold

Required school supplies: screens, screens, screens.
— Darshana Chandra

Won scrabble; smile breaks through mask.
— Abby Ellin

Cinemagraph
Tuning out parents, under my headphones.
— Lukas Smith

This is what time looks like.
— Sylvia Sichel


Bad time for an open marriage.
— Rachel Lehmann-Haupt

Cinemagraph
Sun-kissed lips? Not kissed this year.
— Twanna Hines

Avoiding death, but certainly not living.
— Sydney Reimann

Social distancing myself from the fridge.
— Maria Leopoldo

Cinemagraph
Dream of: heat, limbs, crowds, concerts.
— Amy Turn Sharp

Teacher finding inspiration through uneasy times.
— April Goodman

Slowly turning into a technological potato.
— Jad Ammar

Cleaned Lysol container with Lysol wipe.
— Alex Wasser

Cinemagraph
Hallway hike, bathtub swim, Pandora concert.
— Susan Evind

Numbers rise, but sun does too.
— Paloma Lenz

Afraid of: snakes, heights, opening schools.
— Michelle Wolff

The world has never felt smaller.
— Maggie Smith

Cinemagraph
How do you make sense of this moment in history?

Share your own six-word memoir in the comments. We’ll feature some of our favorites in a future article.

Good old "******* pills." You can't **** without them. No one cuts
bulls in flight; cracking sassy in Tiffany's China shop on a Saturday
night. I want to wolf barbecue pork rinds in bed with Cheryl Hines;
use my prong-horn to ram her; nail a dolphin with a sledgehammer.

It was a dream I always had
Being the Star and under the spotlight
I always had the rhythm
But it was a gift being talent
I would often practice hour after hour
In between, I would often tire
Regardless of sweat and aches, I refused to expire
Every dance step had to be toned to perfection
On Broadway, it would be the dance moves in reflection
The thought of Broadway being applause from the audience
Once I felt comfortable with my dance steps
It would be time to step out and audition about
A new Broadway Musical was coming out called “DANCE HOUR”
It would be music from JAZZ to R&B DISCO
So I auditioned
When I was called, I danced to many combinations in smooth dazzling ways
Props being my own
After I finished, the Director shouted, “WELCOME TO BROADWAY”
I danced being the star performer having appreciation in my heart being gratitude
Broadway that was meant for me
My talent for all to see
The Great White Way with entertainment that is sure to stay
But it was Maurice and Gregory Hines that led my way.

Back on the attack
Bookstore blue
Black dancers, White Nights
              
          Doin' Alright!

My brains mushy turkey leggings in the freezer out the box and waiting 3 months rotting in the summer suns running lean from the gnawing marks that carve the brittle bones into witches hex crowns
Now we create the sated space for cattle-brain pacers following infinite prompts paved pavements ending in a death that's somehow sooner than intended
Wretched runes of wretched wretches'
Held higher than I've flown remember
Glow down softer touch the ground
In slender light it feeds the being the beacon is centered on seeing receives relieving reloquaries of recollections recieved frequently tieing up the process of feeding.
What now do I need
Asked heathen skull seething from hulk to steeple creep peekin' I scream at these demons with treats and some healing I'm dressed in vermillion not sequence barely a squeel to my zealous request now a feeling.
I'm not that excitable.
I usually dress in work clothes
And wear the next days pair to bed
I just got excused, from life for two weeks in quarantine. Even my probation officer won't
See me now. So this drunken poetry fumble tumble quickly to it's end in 10 minutes since we've met my bedroom surroundings -Atchoo-  nice this time of year I treat the -Atchoo- season with a-h-h-h sense of -Atchoo- respect, mainly because of the perfect -Atchoo- weather. I Hines. .. Honeszszs....
A-Atchkooo. .
Honestly can say that I love this cold weather with my warm heart. I don't get paid leave either. Yay chrismas.

Having trouble sleeping
O  dark thirty
Cpl. David Markson
Patrick Air Force Base

Mrs. Dewey's class
A.E. Houseman
By profession a professor of Latin
Contraria Sunt Complementa

Volkswagen bug
Surf Ohio
The University of the South
**** voice, pretty face

All Walls Fall
Mr. Gregory Hines
Mikhail Baryshnikov
Homecoming gown magenta

                Say you, Say me

the desire to influence the world
and the desire to be left alone

I remember her as a teenage girl
and I lay awake with my cell phone

memory lingers long
that first kiss at night’s ocean

even decades later
despite time’s travail and motion

White Nights and Gregory Hines
then alone just near the beach

taste still on my tongue
but perhaps I overreach

an ordinary first date
an ordinary teenage boy

but her brown hair beauty beckons
decades later still summons joy

A DANGEROUS WORLD OF VIOLENT ******* runs honkies

from Harlem; wipes the **** away with Charmin; buzzes my smoke

alarm man! I'm in a seated position when I sit, below a monkey pit.

Good old "******* pills." You can't **** without them. No one cuts

bulls in flight; cracking sassy in Tiffany's China shop on a Saturday

night. I want to wolf barbecue pork rinds in bed with Cheryl Hines;

use my prong-horn to ram her; nail a dolphin with a sledgehammer.

I'll love you Cheryl when your 9½ toes rot off, when your hair curls

to 1 undertone, puckered like a crone, sacked through a ***** bone.

White Nights
Florida memory flights
Baryshnikov and Hines delights

Yes, the world is cruelty
Yes, the people hate

No, there isn't much hope
No, America is not Great

Yes, I like books
Yes, Shakespeare shines

No, I don't like Republicans
Yes, I like Gregory Hines.

Gregory Hines returns today
My long ago White Nights
Dear God, the memory delights!