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Michael W Noland Oct 2012
I rise alone

Rise alone
In lieu of

In lieu of love

Its all fine
Its alright
Undefined
I step outside

I'm alive

Alive

In lieu
Of love

I live
In lieu of

Everything's great
Its just fine

In lieu of
Nothing
Nothing

I still rise
In lieu of
Something
Somewhere
Sometimes

I still rise
in closed eyes

I still speak
in closed minds

I still think
in stillness

I still rise
In lieu of
Life
It is meant to be about a ghost but didnt come off too well.
marriegegirl Jul 2014
Il ya seulement deux jours restants dans cette jolie petite année.nous avons eu .et nous célébrons en grand style ici sur SMP Sud-Ouest.Je parle d'un hiver répond photo moderne tournage de certains des meilleurs vendeurs que vous rencontrerez jamais .Pensez Allen Tsai Photographie .Linge de lit BBJ arcs et de flèches à venir ensemble pour un tas de moments magiques de style à la perfection par Keestone événements .Téléchargez votre joli dans la galerie complète .\u003cp\u003eColorsSeasonsWinterSettingsHistoric VenueStylesModernTraditional Elegance

De Keestone événements .Notre objectif était d'avoir quelque chose que vous ne voyez pas souvent dans les mariages d'hiver .The Venue au robes demoiselles d honneur Nord 400 Ervay était l'endroit idéal pour essayer quelque chose de ce genre.car il est situé en plein cœur du centre-ville de Dallas .et dispose d'un toit spectaculaire qui pourrait mettre en valeur les gratte-ciel en toile de fond .Anecdote: C'est également un bureau de poste historique à l'intérieur!

Les couleurs or.argent.champagne et bleu turquoise ont été utilisés pour évoquer ce sentiment d' hiver .Cependant .nous voulions que les fleurs soient en mesure de se tenir debout sur ses propres et d'apporter une pop joyeuse à la création ainsi .Les arcs et les flèches épargné aucune dépense et utilisés pivoines de vol de Nouvelle-Zélande de faire ces arrangements !Personne ne dit un mariage d'hiver doit seulement être faible - il est une occasion joyeuse .après tout!

Nous voulions aussi apporter quelques éléments de la salle extérieur.ce qui a entraîné ES événements enfiler un lustre pour évoquer ce sentiment d' intimité

http://modedomicile.com

et d'élever le réglage en même temps .L' accueil doux venu avec des friandises délicieuses pour le tournage .Ils ont fourni des tireurs de chocolat chaud trempées dans le sucre .macarons avec des flocons de neige sur eux.des petits gâteaux et un simple mais élégant gâteau de mariage deux niveaux de lier le tout.
Ces tireurs de chocolat ne sont utiles aussi!Dallas avait un front froid venu ce jour-là et il gelait en particulier sur ce toit qui vient d'être ajouté à l'authenticité de celui-ci !Nos modèles sont mariés et d'énormes soldats pendant ce temps.La mariée a dû robes demoiselles d honneur avoir son maquillage pour les yeux constamment appliqué de nouveau parce qu'elle déchirait à cause du vent mais vous ne serait jamais en mesure de voir sur les photos !

J'espère vraiment que vous aimez ces images autant que nous faisons .J'espère que vous restez au chaud .aussi bien!

Photographie : Allen Tsai Photographie | Fleurs : arcs et des flèches | Papeterie: Les genoux de l'abeille | Réception Lieu: Le Lieu A robe de soirée grande taille 400 Nord Ervay | Éclairage
marriegegirl Jun 2014
<p><p>Vous ne seriez pas normalement penser à un jour du mariage de l'Alabama dans un 30 degré cadre hivernal rapide .Mais je vous assure .cette soirée douce de couleur simple est chaude comme ils viennent .Enveloppements Pashmina pour les « femmes de ménage .les liens de la laine à la main.une cérémonie et la  <p><a href="http://modedomicile.com/goods.php?id=2187" target="blank"><img width="240" height="320" src="http://188.138.88.219/imagesld/td//t35/productthumb/1/2340935353535393799.jpg"></a></p>  réception éclatante à Stone Bridge Farm鈥c'est une galerie que vous aurez envie de s'acoquiner avec n'importe quel moment de l'année !\u003cp\u003e<p>ColorsSeasonsWinterSettingsFarmStylesModern De la belle mariée .J'ai épousé mon mari douce journée d'hiver le plus parfait à Cullman .Alabama à Stone Bridge Farm .Alors qu'il était un frisquet 30 degrés le jour de notre mariage .la chaleur de nos amis et de la famille ( et beaucoup de danse ! ) Nous a empêché de congélation !Mon inspiration pour le mariage était tout confortables et élégantes .Je voulais aussi de lier des éléments de Noël sans trop le thème des vacances .Lorsqu'on pense à la demoiselle d'honneur les couleurs de robe .je voulais éviter rouge ou vert .j'ai donc choisi une palette neutre .J'ai donné mes demoiselles d'honneur des options d'habillage et leur a permis de choisir leurs propres robes .Je voulais qu'ils se sentent à l'aise et très beau!Je leur ai aussi donné pashminas et robes crème pour les aider à rester au chaud tout au long de la journée.Ma robe de la collection Anne Barge Blue Willow a été faite d'un matériau de point suisse que j'ai tout de suite tombé en amour avec .Le matériau unique.doux complété le thème du mariage .<p>La cérémonie a eu lieu à la chapelle en bois magnifique à Stone Bridge Farm .Arbres de Noël et de cyprès ornés de la chapelle .ce qui porte à juste la bonne quantité de touches de Noël .Les bancs en bois et des bougies dans les fenêtres ajoutées à l' agrément !La musique de Noël douce a été joué par le pianiste et violoniste comme invités étaient assis .Mon pasteur nous a mariés avec les douces histoires personnelles sur Tyler et moi dans le sermon .<p>La réception a eu lieu à côté.dans leur belle salle de réception.Tout <b>robe ceremonie fille</b>  sur la réception dégageait une ambiance chaleureuse et confortable .Mon mari .Tyler .était un ancien mascotte de l'Université Auburn .si naturellement .Aubie Tigre dû faire une apparition à la réception.En outre.le gâteau du marié sélectionnée Aubie assis sur le dessus de l'enseigne Auburn University .un monument bien connu dans la communauté Auburn .Nous avons tous dansé toute la nuit de la musique fantastique de Az Izz.who dansé tout autant que nous avons tous fait !<p>Mes choses préférées au sujet de notre mariage étaient les contacts personnels dispersés dans la journée.Maman super talentueux Tyler fait arc les liens des garçons d'honneur de laine gris .En outre.son cousin  <a href="http://www.modedomicile.com/robe-demoiselle-d-honneur-fille-c-2"><b>robe ceremonie fille</b></a>  en fait le gâteau génial Aubie !Mon meilleur ami .et dame d'honneur .esquissés toutes les images pour le programme de mariage .mon mari et talentueux conçu le programme lui-même.Le pianiste qui a joué lors de la cérémonie a également joué dans le mariage de mes parents .Toutes ces touches personnelles ont rendu notre journée encore plus spéciale .Au lieu de regarder en arrière et de voir un jour froid d'hiver en Alabama .nous sommes remplis de souvenirs chaleureux de notre famille et les amis qui nous entourent sur ​​le plus beau jour de notre vie Photographie <p>: Couleur Brandon Gresham - Simple | Fleurs : . Avagrâce Designs A Stone Bridge Farm | Robe de mariée : The White Room | Invitations: Frappée | demoiselles d'honneur robes : ASOS | Restauration : Stone Bridge Farm | Cheveux Et Maquillage Bretagne Benton Massey | Calligraphie : Sarah Tate Designs | Band : Az Izz | Bridegâteau : Gâteaux créatifs de Cullman | demoiselle d'honneur Robes : Cible | Cérémonie et réception Lieu: Stone Bridge Farm | marié et garçons d'honneur Tenue: M. Burch Tenue de soirée | gâteau du marié : cake Creations Hannah Whitner | Robe de Réception : BHLDN | planification de mariage et conception:Stone  <a href="http://www.modedomicile.com/robe-de-soir%C3%A9e-grande-taille-c-58"><b>robe de soirée grande taille</b></a>  Bridge FarmBHLDN est un membre de notre Look Book .Pour plus d'informations sur la façon dont les membres sont choisis .cliquez ici</p>
In Lieu of Abuse
1
I have problems with letting go, moving on, losing people. Nothingness is recurring nightmare. It seems like events around me aren’t good, but I get used to them, then ground pulls from under me, and I’m supposed to adapt, which I do too slowly, and grow accustomed to not good situations getting worse, when ground pulls from under me again, and here I am in recurring nightmare, only it’s reality.
2
I watched exquisitely lovely girl picking her nose and eating boogers. Wow, I thought, this girl is *****. What I mean by men are pigs, imagine old homeless lady tripping and falling on street, and her skirt flying up exposing naked ******. What is the male hesitation quota?
3
So let’s just say, for argument’s sake, women are wiser tougher gender, and men are boorish dunces. Reasons for enduring patriarchy are fear, or personality weakness, or female longings for daddy worship. So let’s just say, for argument’s sake, I’ve just signed my own “Satanic Verses.” I hate quarreling. It’s not nearly as much fun as making-out. Up, down, up, down, I love you, miss you, love, love, love you, yes, I do. California is definitely due for another earthquake. My guess is two to three weeks. Didn’t the Giants win the World Series this year? Yup, my guess is two to three weeks.
4
Respect is directly linked to gratitude. Sometimes respect is easy to forget, mindless drifting easier, degrading life’s worth a breeze. ****. If I was a fish, swimming in a bowl, blowing bubbles, flapping fins, splashing around tank, trapped in cramped space, I think I’d go crazy, and bang my face against aquarium glass, smash my head to bits, floating to water’s surface.
5
Pretend you were never born, not a trace anywhere, and you have no idea what existence and consciousness mean, or anything, or nothing.
6
What resolve? Dance the dance, drift to sleep, dream neverland, nevermind, nevertheless endure recurring nightmare. Okay, let’s try again, make a plan, build a house, and leave all this negativity behind. Okay, okay, so I talk to myself, somewhat incessantly. I think obscene ill thoughts. I fantasize a woman tied to bed. Do you still want to make a plan and build a house? I asked my shrink, “Why did you become a psychiatrist? Did you originally intend to be a doctor in another field?” She replied, “I’ve always only wanted to be a psychiatrist.” I wonder why.
7
Man walks into a woman. He says, “It’s dark in here.” She says, “Maybe your eyes will adjust to the light, maybe not.” He stumbles out into night. The moon eclipses.
Criss Jami May 2014
Lately
What I do is a vacancy with
A disposition made just for me and it's
In a position that they can't see, you see
In deep blue seas
There's the place where a vacation is free for me

And then you dream in peace

So call me maybe the ghost protocol where most of those photos of all the things I do
Are used as prototypes, baby so-called clues of my new call to move where-
In everywhere and wherever and with whomever and whenever which
Is whosoever or whoever's whichever of whatever, for all of you
Whether the weather's a typhoon in-
Cluding the SoCal blues but
This isn't all I do
It's just that it's my call of duty
On a mission for all of what's true
But without bailing, balling or brawling in her suit
And then failing, falling, bawling and calling and then crawling in pursuit

Like some other subliminal, minimal flukes
'Cause it's done much better than those "lyrical, miracle, spiritual, individual and criminal" dudes
Or bitter, fritter critiques with the use of twitters
In order to refute the fullest of all hippo-critical fools and critters sitting and fitting
Itching to switch to snitching about this glitch
Which is hitched to renewing, stitching and gluing our fitches to truth and
And yes without twitching to their witch's magical, musical flute

Then in lieu of the altitude of the attitude rude of my pirate-like crew's mood
Whether longitude or latitude and more than impractical platitudes
I'm not as irate as I seem al-
Though it ensues that right on cue in due
Time with an aptitude of gratitude and exactitude in
Solitude throughout fortitude or servitude, to allude what you elude and dude
To intrude what you conclude with certitude in an interview interlude and now
Then out of you, under coveralls to view the overall outerlude
I rate the magnitudes of the habitudes it seems you take for granted in dreams and all types of things

And though my soul is a hologram
Hollow weight and zero grams
Hero traits with a villain glam I'm
The man of love and that of
One of the toughest clams above
Or below, I should say
Like Poseidon
Oh baby we ride on
Or sail on, should I say
The ghost of Poseidon

Then in lieu of the attitude of my pirate-like crew
I'm not as irate as I seem or
Even irritated as they deem nor
Norse, Thor or a heart of granite
I rate the things we take for granted, granted far asleep
Stereo-hyped in dreams with all heights of wings and

Although my soul is a hologram
Hollow weight and zero grams
Hero traits with the chill of a villain vibe or glam I'm
The anti-hero, champion of love and that of
One of the toughest clams clamping it above
Or below, I should say
Like Poseidon
Oh baby we're riding
Or sailing, I should say and it's

It's the ghost of Poseidon that's
That's trailed night and day
The ghost of Poseidon that's
That's trailed night and day 'cause
They say, I did it my way then they're
On my tail right away
On my tail right away
Cné Nov 2017
Rise and shine, first thing in the morning walking past the mirror.
Avoiding its reflection, not wanting to see its reflective picture.
Kneeling in the shower, hands pressed tightly to her ribs.  
Who is this frightened child?  Does she even exist?  
She took a step back from the world, no one knew she was alive.  
Now she’s grasping at her life, just trying to survive.
A tainted childhood in shame now fragile bones from self abuse,
don’t blame her though, she was only a child confused.  
How did this happen?  When did this begin?  
She seemed so happy, or was that all pretend?  
She had started at 130, or so,
but felt as if she had lost control.
What happened to this dear sweet innocent child?  
Her idea of beauty and perfection had driven her wild.
Minus 25 later she was so close.  
Almost 100 without any clothes.  
No one would touch her, they thought she would break.  
She told herself she was content with that trade.
I was 18.
~
I’m much better now in my adult discipline
eating healthy 3 meals a day purely for consumption.  
Yesterday, I skipped dinner in lieu of drinking wine.
Today at noon, hovering over my breakfast, I resign
Some days I struggle. Some days I am not fine.
But ...
I will eat my breakfast, lunch and dinner.
And paint my pretty pictures.
This was a therapeutic write.
howard brace Oct 2012
Stood rigidly to attention either side of the hearth, the two bronze fire-dogs had been struggling to maintain that British stiff upper lipidness, which up until earlier that evening had best befitted their station in life... indeed, for the last half hour at least had become brothers in arms to the dying embers filtering through the bars of the cast-iron grate, passing from the present here and now, having lost every thermal attribute necessary to sustain any further vestige of life... to the shortly forthcoming and being at oneness with the Universe... only to fall foul of the overflowing ash-pan below.  This premature cashing in of the coal fire's chips could only be attributed to the recent and prolonged thrashing from the Baronial poker... and a distinct lack of enthusiasm from the family retainer, whom it appeared, required spurring along in a like manner... and while unseen mechanisms were heard to be engaging, then resonating deep within the Hall... that unless summoned... and quickly, the housekeeper had little intention of making an appearance of her own choosing and re-stoke the Study fire while the BBC Home Service were airing 'Your 100 Best Tunes' on the wireless, leaving the heavily tarnished pendulum to continue measuring the hour.

     An indistinct mutter and snap of a closing door latch sounded in the immediate distance as the unhurried shuffle of domestic footsteps... not too dissimilar from those of Jacob Marley's spectral visitation to Scrooge... echoed ever closer along the ancient, oak panelled hallway without.  Their sudden cessation, allowing the housekeeper ingress to  the book lined Study, was by way of sporadic groans from unoiled hinges, door furniture that voiced the same overwhelming lack of attention as that of the fire-grate set in the wall opposite and presumably, from the same overwhelming lack of domestic servitude.
                                        
     "Had his Lordship rang...?" the Housekeeper wailed dolefully, giving her employer what might casually pass for a courteous bob... and in lieu no doubt, of Marley's rattling chains, padlocks and dusty ledgers... "and would there be anything further his Lordship required..." before she took her leave for the evening.  The notion of a sticky mint humbug warming the cockles of his ancient, aristocratic heart gave her pause for thought as she rummaged through her pinafore pockets, then thought better of it, after all, confectionary didn't grow on trees...  In bobbing a second time she noticed the malnourished, yet strangely twinkling coal-scuttle lounging over by the hearth, whose insubstantial contents had taken on an ethereal quality earlier that evening and had now transferred its undivided attention to the recently summoned Housekeeper, who was quite prepared to offer up a candle in supplication come next Evensong were she mistaken, but the coal-scuttle's twinkle bore every intimation of giving what appeared to be a very suggestive 'come-on' in return... and had been doing so since she first entered the room... 'and did she have any plans of her own that particular evening', the coal-scuttle twinkled suavely, 'perchance a leisurely stroll down by the old coal cellar steps...'  Now perhaps it was the lateness of the hour which had caused the Housekeeper's confusion that evening, or perhaps an over stretched imagination, brought on through domestic inactivity, but it wouldn't take a great deal to hazard that a lingering fondness for Gin and tonic played no small part towards her next curtsey, which she did, albeit unwittingly, in the unerring direction of the winking coal-scuttle.

     With the household keys as her badge-of-office, jangling defiantly from the chain around her waist, the housekeeper began inching back the same way she came, back towards the study door and freedom... and back into the welcoming arms of her 1/4 lb. bag of peppermint humbugs and the pint of best London Gin she'd had to relinquish prior to 'Songs of Praise...' and which was now to be found... should you happen to be an inquisitive fly on a particular piece of floral wallpaper... half-cut, locked arm in arm with the bottle of Indian tonic water and in the final, intoxicating throws of William Blake's, 'Jerusalem...' hic.

     "Ha-arrumph..." the elderly gentleman cleared his throat... "ah Gabby" he said, lowering his book and placing it face down upon the occasional table set beside him.  The flatulent groan of tired leather upholstery made itself heard above the steady monotony of the mantle-piece clock as he stood and chaffed his hands in the direction of the bereft fire, "Oh! I'm sorry your Lordship, then there was something...?" as she maintained her steady but relentless backwards retreat unabated, the double-barrelled bunch of keys taking up a strong rear-guard action and away from the well disposed coal scuttle... "and was his Lordship quite certain that he required the fire stoking at such a late hour..." she dared, "perhaps a nice warming glass of port and brandy instead" gesturing towards the salver, long since tarnished by the half hearted attentions of a proprietary metal polish... "and would he care for..." then thought better of offering to plump the chair cushions herself, having discovered Mort, the household mouser in the final stages of claiming them as his own, deftly rearranging the Victorian Plush with far more than any noble airs or graces.

     "Poor Mrs Alabaster, you will recall Sir, I'm sure..." a pained expression crossed the Housekeepers face as she collided with a corner of the Georgian writing bureau and bringing her to an abrupt halt... "her late Ladyships lady" she continued, indiscreetly rubbing her derriere, "whose services your Lordship dispensed with at the onset of last Winter, shortly after the funeral, God rest her late Ladyship... when you made her redundant... and how she's been unable to find a new situation ever since on account of her lumbago flaring up again, seeing as how it's been the coldest January in living memory", which in all likelihood meant since records began... "and SHE didn't have any coal either... or a roof over her head for all anyone cared... begging yer' pardon, yer' Lordship", letting her tongue slip as she attempted yet one more curtsey... "and it's wicked-cruel outside this time of year Sir, you wouldn't turn a dog out in it..." and how ordering the coal used to be Mrs Alabaster's responsibility...

     "Oh no, Sir", as she unsuccessfully stifled a hiccup...she would be only too delighted to rouse the Cook, especially after that dodgy piece of scrag-end they'd all had to suffer during Epiphany, but it was only last week that the Doctor had confined Cookie to bed with the croup... "as I'm sure your Lordship will recall..." as she attempted a double curtsey for effect, the despondent coal-scuttle now all but forgotten, "that below-stairs had been dining on pottage since a week Friday gone... and it tends to get a little moribund after almost a fortnight your Honour... and that Mrs Cotswold's rheumatism was still showing no signs of improvement either by the looks of things... and was having to visit the Chiropodist every fortnight for her bunions scraping... and how she's been advised to keep taking the embrocation as required".

     As a young woman, any disposition her grandmother may have had towards sobriety or moral virtue had quickly been prevailed upon by the former Master's son taking intimacy to the next level with the saucy Parlour Maid's good nature.   Shortly thereafter, having been obliged to marry the first available Gardener that came along, she was often heard to say "a bun in the oven's worth two in the bush" for it was with stories 'of such goings-on'  that made it abundantly clear to the Housekeeper, that it was far more than old age creeping up... and that if she didn't keep her wits wrapped tightly about her, as she threw a sideways glance at the winking philanderer... then who would.

     As for the Gardener, "well... he couldn't possibly manage the cellar steps at this late hour, yer' Lordship, wot' with the weather being the way it is right now Sir, seasonal... and him with his broken caliper... and bronchitis playing him up at every turn, even though his own ailing missus swore by a freshly grown rhubarb poultice first thing each morning", but oddly enough, "how it always seemed to work better if the young barmaid down in the village rubbed it on, especially around opening time..." even his brother, Mr Potts Senior, ever since their Dad passed away... "God rest his eternal soul", as she whirled, twice in as many seconds, a mystical finger in the air... had said how surprised he'd been to discover that it could be used as a ground mulch for seed-cucumbers... it was truly amazing how The Good Lord provided for the righteous... and even as she spoke, was working in mysterious ways, His Wonders to Behold... "Praised-Be-The-Lord".

     And how the entire household, with the possible exception of Mrs Alabaster, her late Ladyships lady, who doggedly refused to be evicted from her 'Grace n' Favour cottage...' the one with pretty red roses growing around the door, that despite a string of eviction notices from the apoplectic Estate manager... had noticed what a fine upstanding Gentleman his Lordship had steadfastly remained since her late Ladyships sudden demise... "God-rest-her-immortal-soul..." and may she allow herself to say, "how refreshing it was to have such a progressively minded and discerning employer such as his Lordship at the helm, one filled with patient understanding and commitment towards the entire household..." much like herself...

     Fearing an uncontrollable attack of the ague, which invariably took the form of a selfless and unstinting dereliction to duty and always flared up at the slightest suggestion of having to roll her sleeves up and do something... which incidentally, was the first mutual attraction by common consent to which her parents, some forty years earlier had discovered they both held in tandem... and "would his Lordship take exception..." feigning a sudden relapse as she gestured towards the nearest chair, were she to take the weight off her feet... she plonked herself solidly upon the Chippendale before his Lordship could decline... "perhaps a recuperative drop of brandy" she volunteered, "just for medicinal purposes", she swept her feet onto the footstool, then crossed them with a flourish that would have caused Cyrano de Bergerac to hang up his sword... "the good stuff, if his Lordship would be so kind, in the lead-crystal decanter... over in the corner by the potted plant", she caught sight of the adjacent cigarette box, also tarnished... "just to keep body and soul together, may it please 'Him upon High'..." and just long enough to brave the coal cellar steps and refill the amorous scuttle... "if only it were a little less chilly", she gave an affected cough... on account of her diphtheria acting up again, she felt sure that his Lordship understood...  Moving over to one of the book lined alcoves, the elderly Gentleman lifted several tomes from the shelves... 'My Life in Anthracite', an illustrated compendium' "to begin with, I think... followed by... hmm!" 'The History of Fossil-Fuels, a comprehensive study in twelve breath taking volumes' "and we'll take it from there" as he threw the first on the barely smouldering embers...

                                                      ­     ...   ...   ...**

a work in progress.                                                        ­                                                         1859
In search of what we do not know
desire what we cannot know
she seeks strange desires inflames.
Strange is the only life I’ve known.

When I was young
I thought for sure
Some girl would marry me
And we’d be happy.

I didn’t know
evils in this world,
tasks of aging disease death.
Under duress I vowed

to be good boy
Most of the time I’m scared.
Life is risky. Everyone
is so treacherous

including myself.
I read somewhere
or someone once told me
poets originate from jesters jokers

hawking insults for king's amusement.
Undress
Before I speak another word
Reveal yourself

Will you swear you’re true faithful devoted
never cheated on a boyfriend
promise to marry me
then run back to you ex?

Take your ******* clothes off
please.
Are you terrified yet?
You are an object

to fiddle with, my exquisite
fetish. Sashay round room
sway hips strut. Sit.
Scoot down. Stay.
Bow your head.

Bend your knees.
Closer, show me
your most intimate
soggy swollen dark

down there. Put it
on the table.
Look into my eyes.
Good Girl.

Between you and me
this doesn’t feel like poetry anymore
hawking insults for king's amusement.
actuality I prefer flip-flop
sometimes tied, other times knotting.

Here’s the routine
She gets ******* at me
And I say *******.
Later I realize how much I need her

Beg forgiveness offer anything
Just to crawl back into her arms.
As far as I can tell
You’re all a bunch of tidy

*******. No one wants to own up.
What is the matter with you?
Accidents happen.
You’re not safe here.

Pendulum swings
ditch gets deeper
trusting what we know not
cannot know.

Intelligence is delicate thread
Other times knotting.
Scoot down
A little bit more for me, please.

“If there is no god than what do you believe in?”
“Nothing.”
“How do you pray to nothing?”
“I don’t pray.”
“What do you do when everything turns horrible, and you’re loved ones are endangered?”
“I make plans.”
“What kind of plans?”
“Lunch, dinner.”
“But what if meals are not a consideration? Like if your loved one is anorexic bulimic?”
“I make other plans.”
“What kind of other plans?”
“Plans to make enough money to get free of people like you who ask too many questions.”
“Oh.”

I forgot what I was thinking. Maybe I was thinking about love and loss. It is nearly 3 am. She is long gone. Memory is the biggest **** of them all, lying, betraying, reinventing everything, making passion with anyone, laughing hysterically crying.
jane taylor Sep 2016
hints of auburn drift creating a soft cadence against the autumn wind
almost heard in lieu 'tis felt somehow awakening souls buried long ago
giving birth to falling crimson leaves tinged with maroon and gold
abandoned dusty roads transform under enchanting spells cast by fall

burnt orange pumpkins standing solitary on wooden porches threaten to reveal
hidden secrets held by dusk’s luscious cinnamon seasoned air
once fulgent sunflowers begin to slumber softly beneath the harvest moon
whilst autumn’s trance brushes all it touches with honey colored hues

i stand pensive as an amber leaf gently twirling falls to the ground
bewitched by thine supernatural powers; thine gifted artist’s hand
who with one stroke turns to butter amber all that once was forest green
and imbues my soul with thine exalted essence forever ripening

©2016janetaylor
Carl Halling Jul 2015
Until recently, I had the impression
Of decaying
Along with the moral standards
Of contemporary Europe,
With London as the lieu
To which all Autoroutes lead.
                                                           ­         
In my room, I was surrounded
By debris
Of my existence,
Lacking the will even to clear
The carpet, whose colour,
Incidentally I came to forget.
                                                         ­           
I ceaselessly tampered with my hair,
Growing it long,
Having it cropped, hennaing it red,
Dyeing it blue-black, bleaching it near-white;
It fell out in bunches,
Desiccated and exhausted.
                                                      ­              
My face grew sallow and haggard,
With bloodshot, inflamed,
Glazed, blue-ringed orbs,
And bitten, bloated, ravaged lips.
My body lost its athletic aspect,
And became shapeless and emaciated.
"London as the Lieu" first existed in prose form in the 1980s as part of an absurd - which is to say entirely fictional - unfinished story.
River Apr 2014
To be the sun and kiss your skin
To be the rain and dance round you
To be the moon and watch you dream

I long to be most anything

To be the breeze you pray will come
To be the cloud you gaze in awe

In lieu of the star in the sky
Far too dim to catch your eye
Sa Sa Ra Oct 2012
White.. Doves  Are   My ..Shadows
All Color's  Hued Within.. ..your
prisms casting no doubt to.. ..
There She lays  In Sleeping
Greens furling about Her
Great Serpent slithering
  stalking a darkly prey
already in mourning
great spirits balking
walks talk of surely
withering this way
fearing  rememberence
of dying.. ..dear Blackness
Serpent's Heart of Loving
Our breaths cast away
in lieu of the fight's
in lieu of the flight
in lieu of the fear
of the..Shadows
in love..cast as
lights chill to
Soul's hued
with..eye's
lie to soil
a'bout
'your'
me's
see
E
Y
E
'
        Dye'd
  to
'I'
Sally A Bayan Nov 2013
same setting from a year ago...
i am not sure why, but
before the clock strikes twelve midnight,
my eyes would surely open
no matter what.
coffee in bed right now,
with a few cookies to munch....
my bifocals, where are they?
i need them now...i could vaguely see
something crawls on the carpet,
making rounds, circling my bed...
oh, no, it is hopping towards my comforter...
I stretch a leg beneath the pillows
something moves very near my toes.
i withdraw my leg, alarmed,
as it quickly disappears...
...then reappears!  now stationary...
this is starting to annoy me...
I poke it with a pencil,
fear no longer present,
now, with my bifocals found.
but it hops.....and hops...
and hops into hiding
down.....down.....below,
somewhere inside my comforter.
In lieu of me, it is now the  comforted.
it is taking too long to come out.
.....something i realized just now.....
could it be possible, could it remember...
i was kind enough not to use a swatter before....
why, i feel like i am being welcomed!
we are playing hide-and-seek,
a welcome dance it is!
here and now, just like before
from last  autumn,
we are finally reunited,
my cricket friend and i....

  S a l l y
  Copyright  2013
     Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Could be I’m on a mission:
Convince the entire world
I am the World's Greatest Living
English Language poet;
Of course, genius such as mine
Goes generally unrecognized until
The posthumous crowd weighs in.
And yet, wouldn’t it be nice?

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Yes, wouldn’t it be nice?
(The Nobel Prize,
Tribute at the Kennedy Center,
A MacArthur Grant,
The Presidential Medal of Honor,
Reverent BJs from hipster groupies . . .
The Poet Laureate in his vicarage,
Enjoying my sweet twilight celebrity.)

(Cue “Guys & Dolls” soundtrack: “What's in the daily news?
I'll tell you what's in the daily news.”)
23: Beheaded at Nigerian Election Rally!
Amanda Knox Gets Away with ****** Again in Italy!
Kung Pow: Silicon Valley Penisocracy Crushes Ellen Pao
German Crash Dummy Co-pilot Flies Jet into the Alps!
Hilary’s Emails Are *****!
Sierra Leone Ebola Lockdown!
Iran: Kooks with Nukes!
Sri Lankan President’s Brother Dies from Ax Wounds!
Saudi Diplomats Evacuate Yemen!
Stampede at Hindu Bathing Ritual, Bangladesh Kills at Least 10!
Simply put:  THE WORLD IS IN A STATE OF ****.

Perhaps it’s time we turn again.
Seek solace in poetry—
“Yeah, chemistry,” insists my Sky Masterson,
My “Guys & Dolls” alter ago.
Surprised? You shouldn’t be.
All poets are gamblers & moonshiners.
We polish our chemical craft,
Sweet-talking the distillation apparatus,
Getting us, getting at linguistic essence.
Cunning linguists are we.
(Colonel Angus, are you back?)
Oyez! Oyez! The gavel raps:
“The Curious Case of Sam Hayakawa.”
We open this hearing to determine
Whether or not S.I. Hayakawa—guilty of
Numerous crimes against humanity & other
Professional Neo-Fascist “entrechats.”--
Whether or not he merits a kinder, gentler
Wikipedia BIO.
(Wikipedia ( i/ˌwɪkɨˈpiːdiə/ or  i/ˌwɪkiˈpiːdiə/ WIK-i-***-dee-ə) Wikipedia)
We open this forum, focusing on his
Courageous stand against the
SDS & Black Panthers, part of
An unlikely coalition: The Worker-Student Alliance
& It’s rival, Joe Hill Caucuses.
Da Name of the Place:
(“I like it like that!” Hot Chelle Rae-“I Like It Like That” lyrics| Metro Lyrics www.metrolyrics.com Lyrics to 'I Like It Like That' by Hot Chelle Rae. “Let's get it on, yeah, y'all can come along/Everybody drinks on me, buy out the bar /Just to feel like I'm.”)
The name of the place: San Francisco State,
1968-69, the longest student strike in U.S. history,
Led successfully to the creation of
Black & Other Ethnic studies programs
On campuses across the country,
And, one could argue,
Gave the green light to
Osama Hussein Obama,
Our first Uncle Tom President.
But I digress.

ACTING SFSU President, Dr. Hayakawa—
Perpetual audition, the pressure on,
Feisty, independent-minded & combative,
Screaming at that skeevy student mob:
(Skeevy as in “He bought the thing from
Some skeevy dude in an alley.")
Declaring “A State of Emergency,”
Calling in the SFPD, whose
Inexplicable slogan says”
“Oro en Paz,
Fierro en Guerra.”
Archaic Spanish for
Gold in peace,
Iron in war, by the by,
For you holdouts,
Those of you who still
Think the “English First Movement”
Breathes life still.
I’ve got more news for you:
That crusade died long ago,
Locked up, dark & shuttered,
Bank Repo thugs, their thick
Neck muscles flexing from side to side,
Sashaying across the parking lot,
Like John Wayne on steroids,
Right up to the front door.)
The SFPD: San Francisco city fuzz,
(As they were known at the time) &
The California National Guard, as well,
Obstreperously, generously catered by
Governor Ronald Wilson Reagan,
(Early stage, Alzheimer’s at the time.
But still very much “The Gypper,”
Still chipper in Sacramento.)
Ronnie--keenly interested in
The Eureka State’s congressional clout,
Lassoes a seat in the U.S. House of Lords:
AKA: The U.S. Senate, SPQR.
It’s still hard . . .

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Still hard to believe that California was once
Rock solid in the clutches of the GOP,
Gripped tightly in the Party’s
Desperate talons. But the grip slipped,
Slipped in the slip-sliding 1970s.
It got harder and harder . . .

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Harder and harder to remind
Leroy & the rest of his ebony posse,
That it was Abraham Lincoln—
“The Great Emancipator” himself—who was,
Our first Republican President.
The Emancipation Proclamation:
That toothless rhetorical flourish,
Based solely on Abe’s
Constitutional authority as
Commander-in-Chief,
Not on a law passed by Congress.
It was just Abe blowing smoke
Up their ***** again,
Just an egalitarian blast from
His Old Kentucky past,
A youth spent splitting rails,
Busting his *** just like
Any plantation ******,
A stark plebeian commonality,
Too deeply etched to be ignored.
Poor Abraham Lincoln:
Probably a **** Creek crypto-Jew,
Neutered by the opposition:
His very own Republican majority Congress,
Another example of the GOP
Shooting off its own foot, right up there
With Mitt Romney’s "47 percent of the people,”
The rhetorical gaffe which cost him his
Second & final shot at the White House.
But I digress.

Senator Sam S.I. Samuel Hayakawa:
That inscrutable Asian fixer, is now U.S. Senator,
Republican, California, 1976-83
Pulpit-bullying his Senate colleagues,
Fiercely opposed to transfer of the
Panama Canal & Panama Canal Zone to
Panama: a diplomatic no-brainer; Duh?
Their freaking name is on both of them.
Senator Sam, obstinate & blustering:
"We should keep the Panama Canal.
After all, we stole it fair and square.”
And Hayakawa, later the driving impetus
Behind the Far Right “English Only” movement.
His co-founding an "Official English"
Advocacy group, U.S. English;
Their party line summarizes their belief:
“The passage of English as the official language will help to expand opportunities for immigrants to learn and speak English, the single greatest empowering tool that immigrants must have to succeed."
That’s how they sold it, anyway.
In sooth: just old-fashioned nativist
Anti-immigration hysteria.

Hayakawa: always the high achiever.
Hayakawa: The Great Assimilator,
Preaching his xenophobic Gospel:
“Immigration Must Be Reduced!”
Aryan rhetoric, of course,
A bi-product of radical authoritarian nationalism,
A movement with deep American roots.
Senator Sam: a Japanese-Canadian-American,
Always tried too hard to fit in.
Sam, comfortable in Chicago during WWII,
Not personally subject to confinement,
Advocated that Japanese-Americans
Submit to FDR’s 1942, Executive Order 9066.
“Time in camp, will eventually work to Japanese advantage."
Later, during the Congressional debate over
The Civil Liberties Act of 1988 . . .
(Passed the House on September 17, 1987 (243–141)
Passed the Senate on April 20, 1988 (69–27, in lieu of S. 1009)
Reported by the joint conference committee on July 26, 1988,
Agreed to by the Senate on July 27, 1988 (voice vote) and
By the House on August 4, 1988 (257–156,
Signed into law by President Ronald Reagan 8/10/88.
He opposed $reparations for WWII internment:
“Japanese-Americans should not
Be paid for fulfilling their obligations."
Some guys, I guess, would say, or
Do anything for Bohemia Club membership.
Plagued by night terrors, nonetheless,
His Manzanar nightmares, his vivid
Imaginary experience at other Japanese
Internment Sites: Tule Lake & Camp Rohwer.
Stalag (German pronunciation: [ˈʃtalak])
Stalags, infamous still,
“Stalags ‘R Us,”
Still palpable memories for
Issei ("first generation")
& Nisei ("second generation").
See: 323 U.S. 214. Korematsu v. United States
(No. 22: Argued: October 11, 12, 1944.
Decided: December 18, 1944.140 F.2d 289.
The opinion, written by Hugo Black,
Chief Justice Harlan Stone, Presiding.)

Hayakawa: a strange duck, of course,
But we mustn’t ignore his strong credentials,
And I’d like to disabuse anyone here
Of the notion that it was anything
Other than his academic record
That got his case to this Forum.
Oyez! Oyez! The gavel raps:
“The Curious Case of Sam Hayakawa.”
So begins this fractured Pardoner’s Tale,
This petition for forgiveness,
The Capo di Tutti Capi,
Presiding: the original Italian mafioso,
His Eminence--the Vicar of Jesus Christ,
The Supreme Pontiff
Pope Paparazzi of Rome!
Roma: the only venue large enough to
Dispense dispensation of this magnitude.

Hayakawa: everyone says his C.V. is “impeccable.”
But did anyone ever freaking Google it?
Just where did Professor Sam go to school?
Undergrad? The University of Manitoba,
Truly, by any Third World Standard
A great bastion of intellectual rigor;
Grad school? McGill and U Wisconsin-Madison.
He was a Canadian by birth,
His academic discipline was Semantics.
(As in “That’s just semantics,”
That all-purpose rejoinder in any argument.)
Professor Hayakawa, The Semanticist,
He taught us: “All thought is sub-vocal speech.”

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Hmmm? We think in words.
The medium of thought is language.
If you grok this for the first time,
Let’s stop to celebrate our enlightenment,
With a cultural nod of respect,
We salute our Islamic brethren.
Radical Islam: the new bogeyman,
Responsible for keeping lights on in Alexandria,
Paying the defense & intelligence bills,
Sustaining that sinister
Military-Industrial complex
Ike warned us about.
Hang in there, Mustafa, old buddy.
Like the Cold War, this insanity
Will eventually blow over.
Orwell’s Oceania will reshuffle
Its deck of global grab-***, and a
New enemy will suddenly appear.
Big Brother, as always,
In the full-control mode,
Simply put: on top of the situation.
So Hurrah!
Allāhu Akbar. “God is Great!
The Takbīr (the term for the
Arabic phrase: usually translated as
"God is [the] greatest.")

“All thought is sub-vocal speech.”
What a simple, yet profound insight!
Just a short hop, skip & jump to the
Realization that, perhaps, the clarity
& Power of our minds can be groomed,
Improved upon by mastery of—
In Sam’s case, anyway--the English Language.
Was this, perhaps, the germ of U.S. English,
The political lobbying organization
He co-founded, dedicated to making
English, the official language of the United States.
Hayakawa: a wooly conservative of his own design;
No wonder Governor Reagan loved him.

Dr. S.I. Hayakawa, a colorful and polarizing
Figure in California politics during the 1960s and 70s.
Can we forgive his daily afternoon naps.
Asleep on the floor of the U.S. Senate,
Leaving California so pathetically,
So ostensibly under-represented.
Senator Sam’s comatose presence at
Washington-on Potomac; the
District of Columbia.
A long time ago,
In a distant galaxy . . .
Far, far away.

TEAR GAS.
Alas, long before he got to Washington,
Long before ever setting foot off campus,
He called for tear gas to
Disperse those pesky college kids.
I repeat myself for emphasis:
He authorized the use of tear gas at SF State.
Tear gas: a lachrymatory agent?
Actually, a potentially lethal
Chemical agent . . .
(Yeah, Chemistry!
To wit: Sgt. Sara Brown,
Referencing “Guys & Dolls” again.)
Outlawed for use during wartime,
Banned in international warfare
Under both the 1925 Geneva Protocol; & the
Chemical Weapons Convention;
“Tear gas:  a weapon of war against
The people. We believe that
Tear gas remains a chemical weapon
Whether used on a battlefield, or city streets.”

Thus, history will be your judge,
You unleashed tear gas on college kids,
So I wouldn’t expect a rep makeover
Any time soon, Ichiye-san, my ichiban friend.
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2014
Two ****** loving each  .  .  .
In lieu of gnats and peacocks,
  .  .  .  Pathetic poetasters.
Cana Aug 2018
Ripples riddle the mirror,
Below, faint shapes shift
Elegant forms float here and there,
Little legs thunder, leaving a gentle wake
in lieu of turmoil.

The air is thick, the sun falling,
Already lost behind billowing storm clouds
Etched chaotically on the horizon.
Invisible but for the ubiquitous light.

It is the dragonflies time,
A darting zip and an effortless flutter.
From surfacing **** to towering Reed,
Searching for something we can only pretend to know.

Determined housewives, faces set,
Arms pumping and hips swaying
Their Anatidean waddle so fitting
Their quacks, a wall of stereo.

A lone rusted sign warns of gators,
but of signs, there is that one alone.
No rogue bubbles or beady eyes,
no ticking of swallowed clocks,
no suspicious splashes.
nothing.

My battery is now as low as the sun,
and my pen is as empty.
A not so subtle poke in the ribs
from a universe in protest of the
bad poetry being inked.

c'est la vie
or as we say in English
**** it
Tuesday evening park sit. Waiting, watching, and stuff.
I wrote his sober, so I cannot be held accountable.
Gourab Banerjee Oct 2015
The Sword of Non-Violence
The time we born
Is a age of war-mongers
East to West
South to North

Throughout the World
There's not a single moment
You can't heard about a war
It's a must in our daily life
May be in lieu of civil war
But it exists
None can disobey it's presence
And,where there is a war
There must be a weapon
And,in true sense war can't be without weapon
There're so many varieties of this weapon
Even may be countless
But,once a person made exception
Yes,he invented a sword
The SWORD OF NON-VIOLENCE
Strange it seems to be
But,it's fact
And,we should proud of him
Because,he's an Indian
We all know him as Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi
Also renowned as Bapuji i.e Father of Nation
We celebrate his birth anniversary as a holiday
But,did we even use his weapon once in our lifetime?
Surely,the answer would be no
But,if we really respect him
We should do so
Isn't it?
Think it off!
And,last of all I would like to conclude with
If he can so we too-Written on 02.10.2012
marriegegirl Jun 2014
<p><p>Les environs magnifiques de Squaw Valley .les détails classiques avec une touche rustique par Summit Soiree.jeunes mariés tiré à quatre épingles et Virgile Bunao faire ce qu'il fait le mieux ;prendre un beau cliché après l'autre .Ce mariage va tirer droit vers le haut de votre liste de favoris .je vous le garantis .Voir beaucoup plus ici .\u003cp\u003ePartager cette superbe galerie ColorsSeasonsSummerSettingsOudoorStylesAl Fresque <p>C'était un régal pour capturer Sarah et la session d'engagement de Daniel pendant Thanksgiving 2012 à Charleston .Le temps était maintenant en train de refroidir et de s'installer de l'apogée de la chaleur fou nous avons tendance à obtenir ici .mais qui ne les empêche pas de regarder si frais et si dans l'amour .Je comptais les jours avant leur mariage  <a href="http://www.modedomicile.com/robe-demoiselle-dhonneur-c-60"><b>robe de demoiselle d'honneur</b></a>  .à photographiez des scènes qui ont eu lieu .Je ne savais pas comment époustouflé je serais au milieu de ces montagnes .Lake Tahoe est un endroit magnifique et la joie de leurs familles et l'excitation Sarah et Daniel présentait à chaque fois mon appareil photo et j'ai regardé les faits Squaw Valley incroyablement picturesque.Being si élevé .chaque centimètre de cet endroit avait une lueur intense .Tout brillait .Sarah brillait .Daniel brillait .La verdure brillait .Lors de la cérémonie .la petite niche dans les bois .nous étions à eu un peu de lumière magnifique .À ce moment .il était clair que je devais laisser à Sarah .Daniel .leurs invités .et le soleil de faire toute cette journée mémorable .Ils ont fait Photographie <p>: Virgil Bunao | planification de l'événement: . Sommet Soiree | Robe <b>robe de demoiselle d honneur pas cher</b>  de mariage: Monique Lhuillier | Cérémonie Lieu: Plump Jack Inn | Réception Lieu: Plump Jack Inn | Restauration : Plump Jack InnMonique Lhuillier est un membre de notre Look Book .Pour plus d'informations sur la façon dont les membres sont choisis .cliquez ici .Virgile Bunao photographie est  <a href="http://www.modedomicile.com/robe-demoiselle-dhonneur-pas-cher-c-20"><b>robe de demoiselle d honneur pas cher</b></a>  un membre de notre Little Black Book .Découvrez comment les membres sont choisis  <p><a href="http://modedomicile.com/goods.php?id=2423" target="blank"><img width="240" height="320" src="http://188.138.88.219/imagesld/td//t35/productthumb/1/4187435353535396606.jpg"></a></p>  en visitant notre page de FAQ .Virgile Bunao Photographie voir le</p>
Francie Lynch Aug 2014
Columns of water smoked over
The lake last evening,
Leaving a sun-soaked
Wet-dog pungency. But wagging.
Fatted newborns are
Claiming trees, digging holes.
The worms are doomed
Beneath the green.
Snouts are grovelling
Where they belong.
This was a blithe storm
Passing through.

My sun is eclipsed by you.
After a calming period.
Especially after seeing
You again, seeing you're happy.
That's a rising barometer
For you.
I see it in your hands,
On your ring finger.
Being congenial is different now.
But I am persistent
With my lieu time.
I will be resistant
In my windbreaker.
I have learned
To wait in queue.
Carlo C Gomez Jan 14
incubator
technological mother
wi-fi our blood vessels
to your eternal link
make us passionate machines
symbiotic connections
programming a love
continuously on update
in lieu of heartbreak
in lieu of heartbreak
in lieu of heartbreak
in lieu of...
fail
buffering
abort
retry
error
RA May 2014
Two things I had never
asked for, not these things
not from you. Honour
and loyalty are pledges
oaths taken to one whom fealty
is owed, a king or master. Loyalty
and honour, not always given
willingly, freely. Honour and loyalty
are stiff, hard, formal words-
a debt you feel you must pay.
If this is how it is to be, know
your debts are paid, you are
absolved. I once had your love
and friendship, but in lieu of those
do not endeavor to fill this space
with what you think is necessary. Your honour
and loyalty, save, for those
more worthy, for those who want this
from you, for those who do not know
how infinitely more you are capable of.
May 9, 2014
2:35 AM

And no, I don't usually spell honor with a U. This being a response poem, it matches the original text and felt fitting.
In lieu of you,
I take an image of
my minds eyes vision.
A perfection
of such delusion,
In lieu of you.
Simon Soane Jul 2013
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.
marriegegirl Jul 2014
Je sais que vous venez ici pour votre dose quotidienne de mariages .mais je suis tout aussi certain que vous êtes ici pour votre dose quotidienne de plaisir aussi .Valerie Barnes film a livré .parce que le couple au centre de ce mariage a à la fois un amour et un bonheur qui sont contagieux !\u003cp\u003eS'il vous plaît mettre à jour votre browserColorsSeasonsFallSettingsBallroomHotelStylesTraditional

D­e la photographie .Même si Suzanne et Carl se sont réunis et maintenant résident à Boston .elle a choisi de se marier dans sa ville natale de Pittsburgh parce qu'elle voulait se marier à la cathédrale Saint- Paul .l'église où ses parents se sont mariés en 1972 . " Je ne peux pas attendre pourêtre dans cette église . C'est si beau . "

Quand elle a Carl à Pittsburgh pour la première fois.elle l'a emmené à l'église pour le mariage d'un cousin et lui dit: « Je vais me marier un jour dans cette église . "

Le matin du jour de son mariage .elle s'habillait à la maison de ses parents à Fox Chapel .Bien que sa robe a été conçu par Monique L'



huiller et ses chaussures par Badgley Mischka .at-elle ajouté quelques objets personnels pour compléter son look - le voile qu'elle portait était mariage voile de la mère et le bracelet qu'elle portait a également été emprunté à sa mère .
La réception de mariage a eu lieu à l' Hôtel Omni William Penn ." J'ai adoré qu'il était robe courte devant longue derriere au cœur du centre-ville de Pittsburgh et a également pensé qu'il était parfait pour la sensation de notre mariage . "la pensée de

Susanna de son mariage ." j'espère que notre mariage que nous sommes en mesure de tenir dans nos cœurs et nos esprits l'amour et de l'admiration et l'appréciation que robe de mariée 2014 nous avons les uns pour les autres aujourd'hui tous les jours .et que nous continuons de plus en plus non seulement commeindividus.mais comme un couple "

Photographie : Goldstein Photographie | vidéographie : . Valerie Barnes Film | planification de l'événement: Le groupe d'événements | Floral Design : Hepatica | Robe robe courte devant longue derriere de mariage: Monique Lhuillier | Gâteau : Vanille Pâtisserie | Cérémonie Lieu: Saint-Paulcathédrale | Réception Lieu: Omni William Penn | Chaussures : Badgley Mischka | Bijoux : Tiffany | Restauration : Omni William Penn | robes de demoiselles d'honneur ' \ : Amsale | Linge de maison : linge de lit mosaïque | Tuxedo : Tophat TuxedoAmsale .Badgley Mischka et Monique Lhuillier sont membres de notre Look Book .Pour plus d'informations sur la façon dont les membres sont choisis .cliquez ici


http://modedomicile.com
Lily Mae Oct 2012
I'm blind to love
let your body
be my braille
Within each and every one of us
is a unique culture:

Ethnocentrism
reaches just as far inward
as it does outward:

Just because
academia
has imposed it's own
fascist, totalitarian, absolute
definitions
does not mean
that it has final say:
i postulate
such adacemic-fetishism
is merely a byproduct of
propaganda
pushed by Big Money
rather than
a genuine insitution
of respectable edification:
that is
i see it as
a mere appeal
to authority;
a well-known logical fallacy
to those who are in the know.

Tread lightly.

Modern Academics
seems to be
yet another
corrupt branch
of Business;
little more.

Academic achievement
is not equivocal
to intellectual worth:

a graduate's degree
is moreso
a status symbol
than it is
a credential
anymore.

'T'is vile idolatry
in lieu of
an individual's personal philosophy;
that's not to say it's
absolutely worthless,
but it may as well be
in today's job market
(unless it's a business degree!)


Then again,
that's just my opinion.
i guess i oughtta shut up
before Edu-nazis shut me down.

Oops, did i type that out loud?
I'm so sorry, you see,
vhat i meant to say vas:
Heil Stanford!
Heil Harvord!
Heil Berkley!
Heil vhat i am told zu heil!
Heil zhe publishing companies!
Heil zhe holders of student loans!
Heil egredious student debt
in lieu of philosophical discourse,
let alone progress!

Heil vhat i see on TV!
Heil *******!
Heil alkohol!
Heil gasoline!

Do not qvestion zhe dogma;
go back zu sleep, you sheep!
Yet another write intended to be easily digestible by the masses, without any sort of difficult, contentious, or otherwise thought-provoking material so as to preclude any sort of discomfort or disagreement.
Written solely to be popular and to reinforce the status-quo.

Maybe I should stick to music. Y'know, something everyone can agree on. ;)


-
PrttyBrd May 2017
4X6 inches
of perfection on a screen
a hint of tortured possibilities
carried in the pocket
of a life built
through blinders and
the most beautiful denial


4X6 inches
of hope undeniable
the foundation of dreams
dragging rough
through cascading walls
of a substandard fairytale
that twisted joy unhappy


4X6 inches
of a smile through a hurricane
bleeding pain through evaporating tears
a reality forged through time uncountable
landing in the rays truth created
when love proved
the existence of fate


4X6 inches*
of peace over pain
a wand in magical medicinals
crashing through solitary anguish
with eyes piercing armor
weaved in passive aggression
leading the lost home
52317
Kewayne Wadley Oct 2018
At the end of the day I can't think of a better place.
A solemn moment.
The clutter of all my favorite things.
I lay uneducated, amassed in comfort.
In lieu of scented furniture.
She's with me where ever I go.

A populous of
Things which I notice, not being home in a while.
Conscious to where I lay my head.
A notion only the homeless truly understand.

A nostalgia of born necessity.
I am ignorant.
Realizing only now.
I needed not wait to feel,
The clutter of all my favorite things.
Auntie Hosebag Feb 2011
“Those who do not want to imitate anything,
produce nothing”.  Salvador Dali -- Dali on Dali

Dreamrise.

The sliced steep slopes of those cliffs could be anywhere--say, Yosemite--buttered by
the same sun, not battered by these calm seas, or bothered
by melting timepieces draped about the landscape.

Why does the artist’s head melt, deconstruct, feather into foreground loam— teeth, tongue,
lips fading nearly without notice, nose pillowed on his own ear?

Is there a reason a single housefly struggles against sky-blue stickiness--imperiled heroine
awaiting the locomotive crush of the sweeping minute hand--or why the bottom
of her golden prison melts in the sepia heat, its silver sisters hung limp
from a branch long dead, or laid carefully
as a blanket over the sleeping
focal face?

What of the copper watch, alone in original form, though a cluster of ants spews from its center
in lieu of hands?

The artist provides no answer, perhaps presuming the question sufficient.

That dead tree—
the only thing vertical, unless you stand beneath the cliffs;
the only thing anchored, unless you allow the cliffs;
the only thing obviously dead, unless those buttered cliffs are someone’s skin—
that tree is Watcher and Scribe, the Presence of the World, and at its base
a face is embedded, of some Bosch-spawned horror, gaze trained beyond
borders, back to the Middle Ages, or maybe on its own shadow.

Straight lines are few enough to count.  The horizon is one, or four, depending on how you tally.
Plain plank painted every hue of blue on the canvas numbers ten—again, depending—could be seven.
And the platform: four, or six?  Are these tricks of the eye or the mind—or math?  By the magic
of perfect draughtsmanship it works out to just the right number.

Note the placement of pebbles—gold right, gray left—for each side of the brain, he dreams; for balance,
for focus, for scale and distortion, placed with precision to escape first notice, the better to manipulate
mind and eye to see what isn’t there:
                                                          ­          the dark,
                                                           ­                          the void,
                                                           ­                                          this universe collapsing,
                                             ­                                                                 ­                                     howling open emptiness,
no stars, no cliffs, no clocks
wormhole of sleep which draws all from there to here,
bloated, belligerent Babylon of black consumes the bottom corner, far removed from ants,
beckoning the dreamer homeward--or Hellward?

In every direction lies fear or fulfillment,
each boundary spreads wide to possibility,
from this static domain where no breeze exists
to mar the surface of an ocean
so vast.
Another ekphrasis piece, this on Dali's *Persistence of Memory*.  Yeah, the one with the melting watches.  That one.
Onoma Mar 2016
The blueness of
this sky...has
championed
the suddenness of
things.
Emboldened of color,
as thy will be done.
Godspeed in brilliant
lieu of...
though may come
evils as the bare
necessities of peace.
murari sinha Sep 2010
in this world of the limped nuptial
i’ve appeared as a power-missile of the lac-dye
that is used by the hindu women
to paint the border of their feet

the tooth-ache of some-one pumpkin
that grows on the thatched roof of a hut
has wringed spirally  
my mythological birth with corporate death

managing and arranging  my thoughts
on what I was in the past
what I would be in the future
or what is my dos at present  
the wonder-paintings of the altamira cave
unfolds its wings beside my painful in-growing nail

and in her own sky of miss marry  
my hands become so much condensed in every drops
as if within that moping smog
without any speech
speaks the twinkle twinkle little star…

beside  that labour pain what awakes then
is the patronage of a one-horned idea
along which while walking  without much preparation
i can enter into any e-mail

though our love pulls a very long-face about itself
and in the opinion of the married women
the sigh of the sin θ of our love wants to cultivate
mustered-seeds on the soil of the inhabitants
of this human-life
with a stick by which the monkeys are driven out
what more can i say in lieu of
a piece of red-salute written in green ink

if i say in the dawn of the 52-cards
i touch your face
by the hands of a school-boy
your calmness and earthly perfume
make me stunned

then in this field of sweat and war
the explosion of logic and intellect
of your top-floor
seems more famous anchor than the milk
that spilt over on the fire

and more to say
when daubing all over the body
all taste of the path of joy
enter into then fort of gold you can notice there
when in some unknown moment
my pajama dies socially
by the bite of the snails and oysters

to keep the heart of the break-kiln always move
this form-less interactions are so well
in the harvest-arrangement of the late-autumn
we are all uttering the name of cherry-flower
and begging shelter from the mango leaves

the cause of spreading over of the fragrance
from our secret myrobalan to every side of the pillows
is not only such that in the morning
an empty ink-*** says to the rain-water
you are beautiful

it is also remarkable that
coming to our half-articulated  travelling
the writings carved on the granite stone
become very much ashamed also

and  taking the busy market-price of the sun-glass
in the fold of the **** cloth tied at the waist
my both hands are also marked very much
in the omnibus of the dancing-bar

such is just because it is the art and science of navigation
that pastes some earth-wave
having no number-plate
with the public
rolling down  on the mat of the summer

it is impossible
to memorise the history of  those
so much contended-hunger
so much contended-sleep

it is all right that the staff-members
of our vibgyr university are all alive  
but they are the existence of some
bio-data only

arrangement of so much smiles and tears
in the nomenclature of banana-bed of mrs sofia
is not to tell the directionlessness of her fishery products
but if the culture of the wild trees assuming figure
then there remains no separate entity of the rbcs
inside or inside-up of the veins and arteries

all are the world of cosmetic-surgery
all are the arena of displaced national integrity
that is the only way to get admitted
into the still water of the horse-race

so the making of this self-portrait of the tip-cat game
by own-hand
so is the fancy of the engagement ring of the bursar

as a result of the headache in the au fait knee-joint
all the rats on the rice-*** of margaret  
become very angry
and when they make their performance  
you can’t catch them by extending your hands

so there is this sky-blue printed sari of desdemona
now take refuge under her perfumed disaster
and it is feared that there may be the drops of sweat
on the lobes of her nose extremely devoted
that the trees become to reside in

how much confusing is that cascade
in each of whose earings the dark fortnight
and whose eden garden is so large
that all those  people with crevasses dwell there

they stay in a group of nine
neither eight nor ten
just n for 9
n is also meant for the nancy
and the narcissus
and the sensational appearance of the
nereid  

once again we rub green-chilly after pouring water
in the parched-rice on the ancient plate made of brass
it is right that the peak is separated down from the temple
but it does not hurt the priest

by the right of our walks strewed outside
we too when hiding ourselves in the regime of fire
with our intention and activities
with our standpoint
with our conduct and  behaviour
or any instant rule or direction
or our deeds
that compel the rotation of the deodorant

thus after the eye-operation
the love between you and me is now
seeing more week-ends than before
to her knee has been submitted many caws
painted in water-colour

in every corner and every hole of the body
that pulls the rickshaw the wind enters
and in every root-cause of the sufferings
the ripple of annihilation of love

from the shop of dip-swimming now
you can also purchase soundlessness  
to feel  the spirit of  chrysoberyl

now you need the work for 100 days
to gain the power you need to keep pace
with the graph of the terracotta
that may also be a long day of fasting  

then on the back of that hungry conch-shell
a globe shouts
the other’s world puts its office-water
in the fountain of cactus the roaring of which
pours so many telephone-calls into the ears

then in our market the ear-bursting sound of the generator
then in our forest-land
the bullet-fight between maoist and the joint-force

then with the enlarging and waning of our moon
are the bright fortnight the dark fortnight and the leaves of wood-apple

you may say now
those demerits relate to the seeds of the gm oranges
but just think the scanning of hibernation of the philtre
or of the kite the thread of which is cut off
they can’t escape their responsibility too

then tell me to whom i could give
my sad melting point  

but then to do any work means
this trigonometry
outside the territory of copyright

then the connection of the biscuits
with the thoughts of the fire-works
is clearly dismantled

the border-zone of all relations thus keep themselves apart
and due to a sharp difference in the chromosomes of sand-stone
our dwelling-house becomes a museum

to build a hospital with a big moustache
at last within the hypnotized company
the shadow of our bed-room appears

then the light of the social moon  is like the materials
with which the inner parts of the sorrows of the pomelo
is made up

it may be well for making great
the art-work of the horse-rider
that is wrapped with the handkerchief of ocean  

it must be waiting for my shampoo-power too

some cure may be offered by the paraffin
and her open hair

but one deed of the rose-petals
and the convex sweet drops of molasses  
is the flame of thumb-impression
that is born and brought up by the pan-cake
in-between sauce-pan and peter pan

in this all-pervasive panorama of slang-opera
Oh, how the caged bird sings...
From the nest made of  fallen earrings, flattened rings, and tangled wiring.
Is there a difference between a cage and a nest?
Is a home a shelter or a prison?
I guess it just depends on who has access to the door.

Are you tired of boxes or tired of moving?
My nomadic experience provides definition to previous gleanings.
Death Row is still living, while Hobo Bo yearns for the meaning.
Feed the dog first and then get your filling.
Expanding your consciousness, but how far are you willing?
Your pupils can only expand so much before your eyes are nothing but black holes with no floors or ceilings.

How old is this feeling?
Your camera lens will fracture if you don't stop twisting.
Pretty soon you won't be able to view anything.  
Your tree houses how many rings?
Did you really free yourself or is the cage just disappearing?
How close can you get to flying without batting your wings?
How close to the sun can you fly be before frying? What good does that bring? Let freedom ring.

So sing, little bird, sing your song of searing madness.
Whether I'm shackled to this perch or flying in circles out in a clearing,
As long as I'm listening to these same sweet melodies there is nothing to be fearing,
For I'm listening to the most beautiful song that I can ever remember hearing.
A bird lives a simple life, and in the end that is what is most endearing.
Sing freedom, sing.
Brian Oarr Feb 2012
Outside the miner's shack Joshua trees stand silent vigil,
expecting his imminent return, or perhaps his ghost.
Horn silver, weathered by rainwater from volcanic rock,
no longer strews fallow ground to lure the miner back.

In lieu, small succulents feed tortoise and jackrabbit,
replace the metal which only men could value.
Nevada gains a confluence of life in the exchange,
dry-lake flora and fauna bartered for chlorargyrite.

Barren mountains surround this desolation,
where nothing more than fungi lie in vapid dissipation
before the relentless punishment of the sun,
a lattice-work of valleys dissecting their *****.

I ventured here to purge my body of poisons,
exhale the vapors and biles of city living,
to rid the alien presence in my mitochondria,
and let it go the way of Silver State.
ryn Feb 2015
)
       o    (              (             (                  
O   )     (                      )        
            )                (      o
    (              (      (                       O  
   )     o              )   O       )        o
(    O              (     o      (         ) 
)    o                              )    (
**make me a cauldron of a witch's
brew•let it bubble and boil...;
simmer and stew• allow the con-
coction to churn•feed it with raw an-
guish and spiteful spurn•whisper my wi-
shes into shady ingredients•scatter them in
to render it potent•stir it wild...with an iron
ladle with a wooden haft•raucous incanta-
tions of a long forgotten craft•...now give
me a vial of the witch's brew•let it
**** me or grant me the gifts
promised in lieu•
Aaron Kerman Jan 2010
“Everybody has won, and all must have prizes.”- Alice in Wonderland

“Everyone knows it’s a race, but no one’s sure of the finish line.”
        -Dean Young, “Whale Watch”

1a
Children rarely listen to any armchair advice from their immediate family, relatives they commonly have contact with or anyone they haven’t known for more than a couple years because in kindergarten or day care they often got gold stars just for showing up… Little glittering prizes plastered on poster boards in elementary school classrooms regardless of grades or mistakes…


1b
On the windy day when you lower the green jet-ski instead of the good one, race it to the north end, out of the safety of the bay, into the choppy waters, you’ll get bullied by the wave’s splash like the cattails of a whip. The lake will overwhelm you; you’ll inhale some of the water,  a sharp pain will course through your body as you try to breathe those short shallow breaths, which you will force yourself to do as seldom as possible. You will cough and keel over on the craft; It’s not uncommon to spit up blood; you will have to return to the dock and raise the jet-ski back onto the boatlift.  You will stub your toe on the cracks in the planking, stumble and get a splinter in the ball of your foot heading towards the deck but won’t notice. All feeling numbs against water trapped inside your lungs.


1c
Jackie Paper’s mother made him a hotdog with potato chips and served it to him on a plastic plate outside so he could enjoy it on the newly refinished deck while he watched the schooners and speedboats, stingray’s and ski-nautique’s jet in and out of the bay. He didn’t wait five minutes after he finished to fly from the deck onto the dock into the water where he free styled too far and got a cramp. His mother almost lost a son that day.



2a
If wet some recommend running around the shore of the lake until the air has thoroughly dried you off. Listening to the gulls dive and racing through the varying levels of grass on the neighbors’ unkempt lawns, in between the oaks and elms, keeping ever mindful the sticks and stones and acorns that litter the ground in lieu of stubbed toes or splinters. You will most likely fail, but you will get dry.


2b
When you **** your big toe on the zebra mussels while wading in the shallows, near the seawall beside the dock, trying to catch crayfish and minnows darting between the stones underneath the water, and the blood doesn’t stop flowing for 10 minutes and the H2O2 bubbles burgundy on the decks maple woodwork, instead of that off white color it usually bubbles, and stings something awful, don’t be a little ***** about it.  It’s your own fault for leaving your aqua-socks on the green marbled tiles in the foyer closet next to the bathroom; where you changed into your bathing suit and got the bottle of peroxide.


2c
Last winter Christopher Robbins drove his red pickup on the ice (near the island, towards the North end, where even when it’s been freezing for weeks the frozen water seldom exceeds six inches in thickness) at night and fell through.  He felt the cold water enter his lungs.  Although it was snowing and no one had noticed he survived; it took him the whole of an hour to reach the nearest house and call home; he lost his truck and suffered from severe hypothermia and acute pneumonia. At the hospital it was determined that while there was ample evidence of the early onset of frostbite in his extremities, amputation would not be necessary.


3a
While sitting Indian style on the dock next to your friends, settled on the plastic furniture, sipping whiskey and beer, comparing scars assume, no matter whose company you’re in, that yours are the smallest. Those cigarette burns running down the length of your right forearm are self-inflicted and old- reminders that you haven’t had to force yourself to breathe in quite some time.

3b
When you jump off the end of the dock you’ll forget to keep your knees loose because you were running on the wooden planks trying to avoid the white weather worn and dirtied dock chairs and worrying about getting a splinter. The water is inviting but during the summer the depth is only three feet four inches. You will roll your ankle at the very least and probably sprain it because, Like an *******, you locked your knees and jumped without looking.


3c
Two summers ago Alice was tubing behind a blue Crown Royal when she hit the wake at an awkward angle and flew head first into the water in the bay a few hundred feet off the dock at dusk. The spotter and driver simply weren’t watching and the wave-runner didn’t see her due to the advancing darkness.  She cracked her head open on the bottom of its hull; swallowed water.  She needed 70 stitches and several staples but Alice made a full recovery.


4
Mothers often tell their children to should chew their food 40 times before swallowing to aid digestion and to wait a full half hour after eating before engaging in physical activity. Especially swimming.


5
When you’re at the lake house this summer skipping stones swimming and running on the dock remember not to listen to any advice.  

If this were a race to get dry you’d be much closer to first than last.

The internal bleeding eventually stops.  The splinters all get pulled out, staples and stitches are removed, lacerations heal and the feeling returns to the fingers and toes.

The water eventually drains from the lungs and only the scars remain:

Gold stars on poster boards;

because everybody has won, and all must have prizes.
Celeste Traxler Jun 2013
please do,
i'm practically begging you
walk through the cafe front door
that one i apparently broke your heart in.
here i still sit
writhing and writing
drinking milky hearth to calm my shaky nerves.
i'll act like i don't see you
and maybe i'll be happy
you best not sit next to me. ******* it
because the only thing i will formulate in words is the sentenve
"I told you so."
going back once again to my writing and writhing
while my ego feeds off of your love lusting stare.
marriegegirl Jun 2014
Bien que la pluie le jour de votre mariage est l'une des choses les mariées stressent le plus.la neige le jour de votre mariage .bien disons juste que c'est magique .Surtout quand c'est une de ces belles neiges d'automne du Colorado.où les feuilles sont encore accrochés mais les petites averses de neige descendent du ciel .Brinton Studios capturé un jour et c'est tout à fait un euphémisme de dire que c'est parfait .mais là vous l'avez .Il est excellent.\u003cp\u003e

ColorsSeasonsFallSettingsRanchStylesRust­ic Elegance

De la photographe .Elyse et Chris ont.Avez- ce robes demoiselles d honneur que vous demandez ?Ils ont ce facteur X dans une relation où vous pourriez presque tangible

http://modedomicile.com/goods.php?id=2778

de ce lien mélancolique derrière leurs mots et le langage corporel .Nous鈥 檝e n'a jamais eu plus de facilité à obtenir un couple pour nous montrer comment robe de soirée grande taille ils se sentent sur l'autre .De plus .les amis de ces gars sont juste amusant !Nous avons eu un temps à robe de soirée grande taille danser incroyable et obtenir au milieu d'une petite bataille de neige impromptue qui a éclaté .Thumb Ranch du diable et de la planification enlacés fait un travail fantastique réglage de la magnifique toile de fond pour cet événement magnifique Photographie
: Brinton Studios | Wedding Planner : planification enlacés | Cérémonie Lieu: Thumb Ranch du Diable | Réception Lieu: Thumb Ranch du
Paul d'Aubin Feb 2014
L’épicerie «Mozabite» d’Akbou

S’il y a un lieu dont je me souviens,
C’est de l’épicerie d’Akbou,
située dans la rue centrale.
J’y accompagnais mes parents,
et pénétrais dans cette échoppe
avec tous mes sens en éveil,
surtout pour humer les senteurs mêlées
des jarres d’olive et de piments rouges.
L’épicier était Mozabite,
avec des pantalons bouffants.
Le roi des commerçants du lieu,
car dans l’espace resserré
jamais rien ne vous y manquait
dans cet incroyable fatras
où le «Mozabite» faisait ses choix.
vous tirant toujours d’embarras.
Il y avait des tonneaux d’olives
vertes ou noires dans leur saumure
avec ce goût qu’elles ont : «là-bas.»
et puis ces senteurs mélangées
de menthe, paprika, cumin
des parfums de fleur d’oranger.
et à la belle saison des dattes
pendaient les «reines» : «Deglet Nour»
Parmi toutes ces friandises
Il en est deux qui pincent mon coeur
Cette galette ronde et si tendre
la «Kesra» plus tendre que le pain.
et les sacs remplis de semoules
qui sont la base du «Couscous» Kabyle
Alors que l’agneau est son prince
Merci à l’épicier d’Akbou
qui sut si bien aiguiser nos sens.

Paul d’Aubin (Paul Arrighi)
Toulouse - février 2014.
Paul Arrighi was born to "Bougie/Bejaia" in 26 february 1954 any month before of the beginning of the Algerian war
A microcosm of the world was what I would say
and the hurt kept coming in every way
Money religion and all that can divide
it was all used to hurt my pride
Friends, parents, and heritage were to blame
When love is not love  its all the same
Where is the "for better" where is there "for worse"
believing more of what's out there, that's the curse
Lied about, framed, and hurt deeply with neurological drugs
aligning herself with common thugs
Thousands of magical moments they really did bring joys
even though they are  now used for other people's toys
Deep in our hearts they'll never go away
How I love you in every way
I don't care what anybody will say
More Roses from me to you on more of your special days
your are of my greatest gift s in my life and our moments I will always cherish
there are no words, no actions, no charades that can blemish
our bread is buttered today that's what we say
some creativity will find another way
so many things remind me of you
not the worst human being alive deserves what happened in lieu
In my mind I gave more than I ever I could
The drugs made hardened feelings do what they would
stock market losses another reason to blame
moving and changing lost much more just the same
but all the justifiers come out to make sure she disapproved
when all our lives were changed with her horrible moves
when all chances taken were for love and generosity
and all she could see to make her right was animosity
No human being could ever bare to hear the pains I suffered
and to even reveal the truth takes all I have to muster
but the truth is that I would do it all again
if that was the price for you to see
the beauty beyond all attachments and the splendor in thee
Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King, Socrates, Galileo and more have been jailed
and what were the greatest truths ever and how they later sailed
Unconditionally loving you and that is what will always be in me
and for that I am the luckiest person I can be
Hers Aug 2014
I love
Pushing your hair back

I love
Kissing your cheek
And locking lips with you
In dark theater halls

I love
Telling you that you're
B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L

I love
Telling you little secrets
About me and my little world

I love
Explaining how the world works
To you
In all of its intricate details

I love
When I see you
It feels like it's been centuries ago
Since I saw you under the moon's glow
I love holding your hand
And wrapping my fingers around
While you accept me as your one
Wrapping your around me

I love
Knowing by the sweat on your hand
That the first time we held hands
You really didn't want to let go
I could tell
You were trying to mesmerize me
Every inch of my soul

I love
Pushing You against a wall
And being rough as I like

I love
You don't just let me hold you
You also hold me
Too

I love
That you take joy in touching me
Not ashamed of my flaws and features

I love
How your hair smells
When I get to hold you so tight
That it hurts

I love
How funny you are
How you take all my jokes
With a warm heart

I love
You stay up with me
Way well pass dark

I love
How your eyes glow
And shine in any light
And make me speechless every time

I love
Your eyes are burned into my mind
Calming me down when I remember
My traumas daily

I love
That you protect my heart
No matter where I am

I love
How you stick up for me
And tell me thing's will be alright

I love
How you breath
Gentle and soft
While we're laying in bed

I love
How sweet you are
And loving
And kind

I love
How cute your nose is
And want to kiss is over and over
While you blush as red as roses

I love
How you kiss me
Without caring who's around

I love
How you help me
Find out who I am

I love
When you stare at words
And somehow make them not bland

I love
How you sing for me
And play me a lullaby on the guitar

I love
That you kiss my head
Helping me feel cared for

I love
Knowing that you are mine and no one else's
Your hands, your waist, your lovely ice-blue eyes, your curves,
Your shapes, your edges, your perfect imperfections

I love
How you snore at night
Sometimes while we sleep
I find it so cute and adorable
That I always kiss you on the cheek ^_^

I love
How soft your bed is
How warm and welcoming it feels
How soft pillows
Warm covers
Keep us warm
In our lovers' den

I love
How your voice rang
The first time I met you
Like an Angel who came from heaven
And became my dream Valentine

I love
How your voice still rings
Calms me and makes me feel strong
You have no idea how powerful your voice is
Even it your speech made no sense at all!

I love
How you kiss me
Tongues wrapped and all
How you refuse to not touch me
And give me your all

I love
That you always want to explore me

I love
How pretty you are
Especially when you cover up your face so well

I love
When you smile
Right before I kiss you back

I love
How my whole body tingles
While you kiss me

I love
How our eyes shut
Right as we kiss

I love
Our first dance together
Right in the little school hall

I love
How you wrapped your arms
Around me
God, only me

I love
That I'm your first
No matter what you've done
Or seen

I love
How you forgive
Even after how jealous I got

I love
That you were patient with me
Despite how I don't deserve it

I love
How your accent sounds
Even when you hate it
It makes me wanna kiss your more
I could never hate it!

I love
How much
You love my various accents
From around the world
Loving each Darlin'
More than the last

I love
How I can make you laugh
At the "small stuff"

I love
How lovely you are
Looking in your wedding gown

I love
How you snuggle up our Buster
In blankets and jackets
How much you play with his feet
And watch him play wiggle wiggle beep beep

I love
How you love our Baby Girl
Going to tea parties
And teasing her sweets

I love
How your body's shaped
Easy for me to grab
And touch
And love
<3

I love
How you make me
Repeat
The words
I Love You
Daily

I love
How you look at me
And regret nothing
You've done for me

I love
How you inspire me
To write and release emotion

I love
When you pull your hair back
And smile so shyly

I love
How we kiss and moan
Especially if we're alone

I love
How you press up
Against me completely

I love
That you enjoy how
Big and Strong
I am

I love
How I can tickle
You all over
And you never get mad
At me

I love
That you care for me
More than anyone else

I love
How you rub my nose
With yours
And let me
Be kissed all over

I love
How you let me
Hold your cheeks
And kiss you
With my all

I love
Sleepy you get
Out of nowhere at all

I love
How you even pickup the phone
To answer a telephone call

I love
How you had back pockets
(You know what I'd say ;P )

I love
How you have me
By any means necessary

I love
How we can talk about our future
And not become scared

I love
How honest we are
To one another

I love
How you loved me
Last time
By giving me something special
<3

I love
How we sneak away
To break everyone's sight
To kiss on paths away
To wrap ourselves so tight

I love
How devoted
And loyal
You are to me

I love
How you'd "**** a *****"
In case they'd try to hit on me

I love
How special
You think I am
To You

I love
All the cute names
You've given to me

I love
That you were my Valentine
And will be mine next year

I love
How we care for each other
Even when life is tough

I love
How you make my heart
Want to write all these endless tales

I love
That by reading this whole "poem"
I've made you
Smile
Blush
Cry
And love me again
After one whole year

Happy Anniversary
Baby

I hope you love this
In lieu of what I can get you
Hopefully someday
I can give you more
Than just words
*My Schatzi Baby
Now kiss me god ******!
^_^ I NEED SOME LOVE!!! ^_^

PS
For you
Pacifically

Oh and I pronounce Maryland
Like "Merryland"

And I thought applause was pronounced
Apple sauce

PSS
I ain't dancing with nobody else
I'd rather wait for you
<3

PSS
Now I challenge you guys to do something like this!

— The End —