who were they kidding, twas evident to the eye
who were they kidding, twas evident to the eye
a love connection did abide, longstanding of nature
a love connection did abide, longstanding of nature
twas evident to the eye, a love connection did abide
longstanding of nature, who were they kidding

in public careful they were, concealing a linkage
in public careful they were, concealing a linkage
a mishap would give them away, they played it safe
a mishap would give them away, they played it safe
in public careful they were, a mishap would give them away
they played it safe, concealing a linkage

why do they persist with a charade, truth is being honest
why do they persist with a charade, truth is being honest
feelings precious can be shown, covertness lacks integrity
feelings precious can be shown, covertness lacks integrity
truth is being honest, feelings precious can be shown
covertness lacks integrity, why do they persist with a charade

a mishap would give them away, a love connection did abide
twas evident to the eye, truth is being honest
why do they persist with a charade, who were they kidding
feelings precious can be shown, they played it safe
in public careful they were, covertness lacks integrity
concealing a linkage, longstanding of nature

In light of the recent flood of indie designers coming forth to call foul on fast fashion retailers for copying their designs (paired with a few not-so-fast fashion brands, which have been called out for copying, as well), a common question seems to be: Why is this ok? In particular, why is it perfectly acceptable for Zara to copy these designers’ work? How is this practice legal?

Well, put simply, copyright law is not necessarily a friend to fashion in the United States. This is a blanket statement, of course, but it bears quite a bit of truth, nonetheless. Since copyright law, the sect of intellectual property law that protects "original works of authorship,” such as books, paintings, sculptures, and songs, does not protect useful things, such as clothing and accessories, it provides little protection for those things in their entirety. Creative elements of a design that can be separated from the functional elements are subject to protection, which is why elements of a garment, such as a print that covers it, may be protected (as Pictorial, Graphic or Sculptural Works). This protection-by-separation method, however, does little to ward off copiers.

Moreover, unlike in most cases of the copying of garments, the copying of original jewelry designs often tends to give rise to legal ramifications as jewelry is afforded greater copyright protection in its entirety than garments are. However, as evidenced by Nasty Gal’s continuous sale of infringing jewelry designs, for instance, this also does little to deter copycats.

Other forms of intellectual property protection (think: trademark and patent protection) arguably are not ideal for fashion designs either. Trademark law only protects a designer’s name or logo – with some exceptions under the doctrine of trade dress which are relatively rare. Patent protection – namely, by way of design patents – is not terribly useful for designers because it is expensive (patent protection costs thousands of dollars to achieve) and takes a relatively long time (upwards of one year) to obtain. That’s simply too long for most fashion brands, whose business models depend on trends and season-specific wares. Taken together, this is why fast fashion retailers make hundreds of millions of dollars by copying high fashion designs and only are very rarely sued – let alone penalized – for doing so.

It is worth noting that this is not the case in other countries – namely, in the countries of the U.S.’s international fashion competitors. Copyright protection in the UK is not terribly dissimilar from that in the United States. However, the European Designs Directive introduced a unified system of industrial design rights for both registered and unregistered designs throughout the European Union. This allows for the protection of garments and accessories in their entirety.

Due to its history as the home of innovation in terms of high fashion, it is not surprising that France enjoys the most extensive and longstanding legal rights in connection with fashion designs. The country’s copyright system provides protection for garments and accessories. The same type of protection also applies to Italian designs.

So, it is within these loopholes that retailers like Zara, Forever 21, H&M;, and the like can operate legally (for the most part) and profit from the designs of others.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/****-formal-dresses

In this age of global uncertainty, clothes have become a kind of panacea for a growing number of consumers. Designers are responding to the political upheavals of the past year by injecting some much-needed humour into women’s wardrobes. Browns CEO Holli Rogers is already predicting that spring’s sartorial hit will be Rosie Assoulin’s smiley-face T-shirt. This cheery number, which reads "Thank you! Have a Nice Day!’" neatly sums up the jubilant mood of the coming season.

The logic goes that turning up the dial on the fun, the colourful and the crazy is the sartorial equivalent of Michelle Obama’s "when they go low, we go high" mantra. We may not be able to control the chaos of world events, but we still rule our own style.

It’s no coincidence that a cartoonish aesthetic, of the sort you’d find if you rifled through an eccentric child’s dressing-up box, was in plentiful supply on the spring/summer 2017 runways. Alessandro Michele’s army of Gucci geeks displayed growing swagger in garish get-ups that ran from fuzzy crayon-coloured furs featuring zebras to tiered, tinsel-y coats that rivalled Grandma’s Christmas tree.

It was a similar story at Dolce & Gabbana, where sumptuous eveningwear was loaded with pasta and pizza motifs, and drums became bags, while Marc Jacobs tore a page from a psychedelic colouring book, covering clothes with the childlike scrawl of the London illustrator Julie Verhoeven. Even ardent minimalists would have to admit that these playful looks have potent pick-me-up power.

For Anya Hindmarch – whose empire is built on feel-good fashion – all this frivolity is nothing new. "An ironic, lighter and more irreverent approach has always been my thing. People love beautiful objects and increasingly, they want to show their character – that’s the point of fashion," she says. "Customers today are more confident with their style. There aren’t so many rules. It’s about putting a sticker on a beautiful handbag and not being too precious about it."

What’s surprising is who is consuming this cartoonish style. Though there’s no real rhyme or reason, says Hindmarch, often it’s older clients who are investing in the maddest pieces – like her cuddly, googly-eyed Ghost backpack that has also been spotted on Gigi Hadid and Kendall Jenner.

The same is true of the customer for the Lebanese designer Mira Mikati’s emoji-embellished styles. Though her fans run from twenty to fiftysomethings, at a recent London pop-up one of Mikati’s most ardent buyers was an 87-year-old. "She tells me that whenever she wears my clothes people stop her on the street. They smile. They start conversations. She literally makes friends through what she wears."

Mikati began her career as a buyer, co-founding the upscale Beirut boutique Plum, before launching her own line some four seasons ago – largely out of frustration at the sameness of the mainstream collections. "I wanted to create something fun and colourful but easy to wear – that you can add to jeans and a white T-shirt, but that’s also a conversation point."

Her clothes, worn by Beyoncé and Rihanna, are certainly that: pink parrot-appliquéd trench coats, scribble-print hooded tops and dresses clad with a family of monsters who spell out her Peter Pan ethos in scrawled speech bubbles that read "Never Grow Up’" The antithesis of normcore, these designs take their cue from her children’s toy trunk and the Japanese pop art of Takashi Murakami – who returned the compliment by donning one of her patched bombers.

Mikati is clearly onto something. According to Roberta Benteler, who founded online fashion emporium Avenue 32 in 2011, it’s the cartoon aesthetic that’s really piquing women’s desire right now.

"Anything that looks like a child’s drawing or a toy sells incredibly well," she says. "Brands like Mira Mikati, Vivetta and Les Petits Joueurs inspire the impulse to buy because they’re so eye-catching. You have to have it now because there’s a sense you won’t find it anywhere else."

The exponential rise of street-style stars and the social-media machine that now propels the fashion industry also plays a part in the popularity of these playful looks.

"Designers are creating for the online world and customer," continues Benteler, who cites the Middle Eastern consumer as a big investor in these niche eccentric designs. "People find escapism in fashion and more than ever they need something to cheer them up. These are clothes that stand out on Instagram, and for designers that translates into sales."

In practical terms, in an effort to beat the warp speed of high-street copying, designers are differentiating themselves with increasingly intricate and artisanal styles that are harder to mimic. Just because these pieces have a childlike sensibility doesn’t mean they’re not beautifully crafted.

"My aim is create a handbag that you can keep as a design piece," explains the accessories designer Paula Cademartori. One of her most successful designs – the Petite Faye bag, which comes in a whole rainbow of configurations – takes more than 32 hours to create at her Italian studio. "Even if the styles are colourful and speak loudly, they’re still sophisticated," says Cademartori, whose brand was recently snapped up by the luxury goods group OTB. It can pay to be playful.

One man with a unique insight into the feel-good phenomenon is Marco de Vincenzo, who combines his longstanding role as leather goods head designer at Fendi with creating his own collection. "When we first created the Fendi monster accessories for bags we were simply playing around," he says of the charms that still loom large some three years on. "The most successful designs are created without pressure, through play."

His own-line debut bag features an animalistic paw. ‘It’s about creating something new and different for women to discover,’ he explains. "You buy something because you love it, not because you need it. Fashion is like a game – it has to excite."

When it comes to distilling this childlike abandon into your wardrobe, take cues from super style blogger Leandra Medine, who balances madcap pieces, such as her first collection of colourful footwear under her MR By Man Repeller label, with plainer, simpler ones. "It’s all about wearing your clothes with joy, and having fun, but not looking ridiculous," says Cademartori. "You don’t want to look like an actual cartoon."

It’s advice that chimes with that of Anya Hindmarch. "I love the idea of wearing a super-simple Comme des Garçons jacket and a white shirt with a really fun bag to mess it all up a bit." It’s a failsafe formula for dressing your way to happiness.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses

Splitting the framework of conceptualized demise, demanding council with the potential for immortality found in the roots of a proud, longstanding family tree.

Withdrawals worked out to pay off a longstanding debt with a beat down mentality housed and rehearsed for the sake of a sour state of mind, preserving faltering sainthood.

Ink stains used to stretch the page thin, scraping off fragments of the tatters of a foreign form of progress, denounced with age, but brought back around for a short bout of overtime.

The beginning's are the worst for me,
but I prefer the middle, rather than the end;
I'll always enjoy the journey more than the destination.
Great for roadtrips, irritating for bedtime.

I've got baggage, but I don't want to talk about it.
I will listen to yours 'til the cows come home
(and offer you reasonable advice),
but I don't want you to fix me. I've been fixing myself for years.

I may leave you for the milkman,
but only because I have a longstanding relationship with dairy.
Take it as a compliment if I call you a cow.

I would rather help than be loved.
To me, they are not synonymous.
Just like writing in short lines
with even shorter
linebreaks
is not synonymous with poetry.

My rhyme scheme has little structure, but I expect your schema to have a story.

You have to play chess, but well enough to kick my *** occasionally.
Keep me humble.

I will probably be incredibly, secretly needy,
or ridiculously nonchalant.
What human being doesn't yearn for the other side of the looking glass?
My brains are always tumbling and rumbling, though.

Mister, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into.
Me neither.

I'd like to be protected by you,
even though I don't need it.
(I still believe in chivalry).
I like the idea that my honor is worth defending.

I'm still the same 3 year old soul, wandering around
with my microscope and plastic saxophone,
except this time it's linguistic puns and wh- questions
(especially why).
My favorite response being, why not?

I won't ask much of you,
just energy, a soul to squeeze, and a hand to hold;
a body to hug.
But don't worry, you'll get much in return
(probably too much,
at least that's what they tell me).

I talk too much, walk too slow, and am the most
awkwardpersonyou'llevermeet,
all tumbles and rumbles and wiggles.
But I've got a lot to say,
even though I'll always prefer to listen.

I want you to hit me
like a ton of bricks with good intentions.
There's a lot of fire, especially for you, young love.
My heart string and soul swing,
I am yours to mold and shape and croon
(but my heart is not an empty room).
You can move the furniture,
but once you hang up the paintings,
I might just want to keep it.

(That's what I'm worried about)
I want to set your world on fire,
and I want you to set mine alight
(but sometimes I lose the extinguisher).

I'm expecting
nothing
but hoping
for too much.
That's where my tongue gets tied-
I don't know how to take the reigns,
****** you,
or  make myself undeniable,
or irreplaceable.

I don't want to though,
because with enough time,
everything heals.
Memories are alive as long as you think of them.
But after you forget, they rest in peace.
I'd like to be your peace,
piece of apple pie, holy moly me oh my.

Don't fool my janglin' heartstrings
because they'll stretch andstretchandstreeeettch and bend 'til they break.

I don't like talking on the phone.
Make up your own ******* story.

Before this date,
I just want you to know
that I'm slightly crazy, completely ridiculous,
and have a few tales to spin from my fingertips.
(and I wiggle. too much)

I'll be your Jane if you can be my Alexander
or Tarzan.
Noah always needed a whale for his ark.
I probably already think you're funny and cute,
and I'll kiss you all starry eyed, my body swaying from side to side.

I actually don't know what I want.
But I'd like for you to be there when I figure it out.

I )  Transitivity

If X is a terrorist
And if Y supports X
Y automatically
Joins the blacklist.

II ) TPLF

By all accounts
TPLF is
A marked terrorist
For holding
Mirror to devil
Engaging in all acts
Revoltingly evil.

A terrorist why?
Because
Now in the open,
Now on the sly
Nonstop it labors
The innocent suffering
Lacerating pain
To die.
It either kills
Or sponsors
The killing of toddlers
Elders,
And women with
A bun in the oven
More often.

To maximize, selfish
Political objective,
Its duty,
TPLF knows no pity.
Its head
A box empty
Like a child naughty
Make noises
To swap
The victimizer &
The victim
And tip the balance
In the global
Political roadmap.

Long before
ENDF’s law–enforcement
Operation
Three out of 5
Women in Tigray
Were subject
To ****
Many heard the
Report agape.
Happily,
The response from
The west was
Tossing it off
Like a ladies hair
Not tied
On the nape.

Pillaging food aid
Many were the
Instances TPLF its
Impish army it fed.

III) America

From
TPLF’s inception
To its tyranny
We were on the ball
That is why
We are mourning
Its demise &
Catastrophic fall.

Before our eyes
TPLF stands tall
‘cause it saw to
Our dictates all,
When we asked it
A room
In Ethiopia’s politics
It used to
Give us a hall.
For our satisfaction
It was on the toes
It sleeves to roll.

“TPLF
(Dear Meles Zenawi)
Our soldiers in Somalia
Are suffering
Ignominious defeat
Forced with their tails
Between their legs
To retreat.
Valorous march and  
Invade Somalia
‘YES’  it said
To diplomacy
Longstanding relation
Having  little
Or no idea.”

We know
Very well
TPLF, suffering
Death knell,
Is past master
In terrorism,
Not in store
Even in hell,
Seeing its deeds
That everyone
Effortlessly
Could tell.

Devoid of
Mental health
TPLF was out
In East Africa
To spell death.

It was adverse
To peace brokers.

When TPLF said
An election result
It conducted was
Hundred % a hit
We (Susan Rice)
Laughed till
Our sides were
To split
But we showed
A green light
“Go ahead
Do it!”

To Bin laden
We showed
No mercy
But around
A horseshoe
Table with TPLF
You, peace-seekers &
Peace keepers,
Have to sit
With the
Worst terrorist
Defeated, exposed
On the retreat.

To meet our ends
We use
Carrot and stick
To terrorist
The former
And stick
To the latter.

Also
Pulling off
A gigantic dam
By own head, arm
Defying our interest
Our arrogance,
Our image
Ethiopia did harm.
This way Egypt
Our bargaining chip
Is slowly but surely
Getting out of
Our grip
So on Ethiopia
, our pushover, let us
Use a sanction whip.
Ethiopia we have
To flog, to beat
Before it zooms
Africa’s head
To the East.

We wrecked down
Many nations
Under the name
Of peace waging war
From Libya
To Afghanistan far
Unless the
Global community,
Own citizen &
Specially the east
Our action bar
We are out
World’s peace
To mar.



////

When the sun comes down, setting through my window
I feel contended while the dusk glows on my carpet.
There saw a phantom haunting the mirror, it was love at first sight.
But my phantom requests a new lover to conquer.
Through its grey haze I see every night,
An angel sailing through the night’s deep ocean
Draped in dark wraps of mystery, feline and fragile in motion.
Masking more about her than all can tell;
In havens strange she weathers storms ******
And holds some unreal lover in her eyes.
Or perhaps she walks this world unknown
Adrift like me, upon the depths of nights.
I glide back to the start, soaring with the angel,
Only to lose it in murky halo, appeased yet so alone.
Night revealing its symphony for the lovers, rain falling unbrokenly on the catacombs.
As night ripens black to become longstanding,
A longing, lifetime old, rose from grave deep within my emotions.
Considering to open myself to ceaseless night’
Seductive and soothing caresses, formed of ecstasy.
I see myself in the mirror, not enemy with the time-not anymore,
I put away all my pride for the phantom to breath into my heart.

Through my mind swim faint ideas--
Vague suggestions of calm reflections,
Bound by the weave of desire to inspire,
By creating a grand collection of perception.

But with senses jaded in dense pretense,
I can but jot some coarse epigram,
That will tickle the mind of a fickle aesthete,
But leave no longstanding, resounding verbatim.

i would love
to leave the house.

walk downtown
in broad daylight
find a cute coffee shop
to haunt

(with my notebooks i'd never
notice any lack of internet connection)

stroll along the moonlit
shore
dip my toes in the water
off the dock

(the only thing i'll take
advice from is a lake)

read books
all afternoon
in the stilted quiet
of the public library

(perhaps pay off my longstanding
fine like a responsible adult)

go shopping for a
brand new skirt
worn once or twice
by someone else

(and i swear i would dance
in the rain until it was soaked)

find some kind of local
museum that nobody really
cares about and go look at
something antiquated

(or i suppose i could just stay
in the secondhand shop attic)

go into a music store and
play all my worst melodies
on their guitars and ukuleles
until they kicked me out

(the discomfort on the other patron's
faces would be worth the humiliation)

oh yes
i would love
to leave the house
and i would love
to do it
alone.

The ice cold chocolate milkshake and the longstanding dichotomy of poet philosopher , musician and painter
Socrates would make a point as to it's rightful owner , questioning whether or not it was even a cold , sweet drink
Dylan would make it the focal point of a tune about a small town eatery
Picasso would paint a story of deliciousness mired in loneliness
Randolph would pick it up with both hands and gulp it down

You won't remember all the fuss you
cause, my precious microcosm

This strange bewildering exhausting
global economy you dwell in

Apparently the lease expired and your time has come

Driven by grievance more than strategy

It sets the stage for fireworks and confusion

In one dizzying morning into afternoon

I'm searching for who to blame

Histories on the episode may well spend a chapter on
your mother's unhinged notions née crazy talk

It becomes clear in real time how the risks
of an escalating trade war

give a centimeter, take a centimeter

And the fraying of longstanding ties

Could quickly outpace the ability to evict you

As your mother, the normal first responder
to your distress, I can do

Absolutely nothing about it but push

In what seems a shoot-first approach to such
a delicate moment

The escalation, the unpredictability, the erratic
nature of developments

Is central to what is going on

Something is breaking

That something is me!

Our world is on edge

Looking for a sign of what to do next

The labor market drops and you're crowned
a royal pain

Peace is found, it's proportional

And by all measures you're quite hale
quite beautiful!

This offsets the damage of a messy exit

The disconnect I incessantly prayed for offers
melancholy over relief

In our opening act you're already moving
away from me

While the female body is a powerful tool

It cannot provide a settled rule book for
such internal battle

Still, this adventure, scary and catastrophic as
it was, is well-suited to the wonders that I am

For that I'm grateful to my Creator

The lesson of the last several hours is that forces are unfolding
that we can't do much to contain

We're merely nesting passengers en route to
a foreign destination

New ideas
My mind expanding
Better skills
My reach outstanding

New ideas
Success demanding
With my weakness
Notwithstanding

New ideas
For understanding
I now act
My powers commanding

With new ideas
Help I’m handing
Prosperity
For all longstanding

In case you are wondering, to whom I am addressing
I’ll clear that part for you, so you won’t have to be guessing

Aiming at the racist ones, words are my sole arsenal
And if you’re like them too, go ahead and take it personal

What I will emphasize may look to y’all as history
From humanity’s standpoint; it’s a big shame and mystery

It sure happened in the past, this ain’t a current topic
Or it’s maybe still around, hurtful and traumatic

Man was treated as goods, traded in public auctions
Disgrace was all over with no sign of conscience

Body wasn’t enough, you also wanted mind and soul
Wow! You must’ve paid a fortune to buy ’em all

Please answer me, Dear Sirs. What happened to empathy?
Do you know what the word refers? Taking the fifth already?

You never thought of yourself in the body of color
Yet gave long-*** speeches on dignity and honor

You were rough on the surface, to make them obey
Who knows how rotten in inside. And all that was okay

Captivated a race and gave them the stupid belief
That they were secondary and all they deserved was grief

Motivation was obvious; millions of things to take care
Slaves cost less than anything. You couldn’t even compare

Don’t run away now, we just heated the subject
He is a human being Mister, not a ******* object

Oh, I see, you don’t wanna face the sheer fact
That indeed your cruel ancestors attacked

These innocent African tribes for no good reason
In a barefaced manner despite the Age of Reason

And you’re not ready to redeem their deadly sin
Alright! Stand up and admit then. All humans are close kin

It’s **** important. Do you even know why?
That is to say to residues of racism bye-bye

Opportunity gap, project houses, ****** education
Are the real meanings of the word discrimination

Biased justice with never ending prejudice on Blacks
Are updated slavery forms deserving a good smack

You are mostly haughty for the things you didn’t earn
Race and color are given, but you have yet to learn

No man’s a property for your royal dynasty
Facing and accepting this takes a lot of honesty

Freedom was vague when society was stratified
Where the aristocracy were safely identified

By color, neighborhood, and school in the whole nation
In ******* good-old-days, during segregation

Do me a favor and don’t give me the cliché
That all **** sapiens had an equal say

It is not the truth even nowadays
Let alone back in those dark days

For all the years they have chosen to be violent
Slave owners don’t have the right to remain silent

Before giving me the crap on Afro-American’s wrongdoings
Let’s put you in their shoes and see how you’re doing

It’s not like Blacks need a defense from this ground
To see how they get even with you, just look around

Jazz, rap, hip hop, soul, reggae and blues for that matter
Non-black pants below waist, what a cross-cultural endeavor

Look at youngsters’ hands, when they’re saluting each other
Trust me, there is nothing white, it’s all from Black brother

In return is belittlement, denial, tyranny and attack
All while they are transforming and painting you solid Black

It all began in New York with the Harlem Renaissance
Artistic, rebellious and witty. Possibly the best response

I know what I’m talking about with absolute faith
Once my home address was 135th and 8th

Stop pompously calling this junk as modernity
It’s in fact nothing but big fat white sovereignty

Nonetheless you are more than welcome to anticipate
That in fact communities of color will emancipate

You from yourself in time, if you know what I mean
Too deep to grasp, huh? For what you have been

I can almost hear that you’re constantly asking me
While me being white, oh sorry. A brown maybe

Why on earth am I now irritating the past?
Like what happened back then is not manifest

I’m not even black, right. But in all fairness
I question the past to raise some awareness

I suppose it’s both because of my aching heart
Feeling in the history for this vile part

And also because of my Turkish nationality
That’s Europe’s Black these days, with Asian paternity

Add to that as well a keenness for reality
Truth needs to be cried out, it’s my personality

This way or that way, what difference does it make
Ignore who says it. Embrace the truth for God’s sake

Most great thinkers felt deeply for the human
With their vast and perpetual acumen

It’s not a duty assigned to philosophers only
We must do the same, so no race becomes lonely

There is no other way to the salvation of mankind
Notice it already! Don’t insist on being blind

If you’ve yet to realize what matters the most
It’s your efforts to solve the problem we diagnosed

Make no mistake, we don’t cry over spilt milk here
Action must speak louder than the words to clear

This longstanding injustice along with insincerity
A bleeding wound that is blocking solidarity

Here’s your chance to make it all right again
Treat people equally, I bet you’ll get an Amen

Kindly stop acting like nothing happened in the past
Labyrinth’s says it’s time for understanding at last

March 12th, 2019
labyrinth

she kneels
and she kiss

grasshopper

she fight
to be

fluent
in longstanding

interruptions

she father
the skirted
issue

she make for mother
no baby
but tends
an entry
in

its travelogue

she not wear
anything
under
her clothes, tells me

she pray

to headcase

EROS : body
every teen show I ever watched that set up love
daydreams
PHILIA : mind
the ideas spouted by happiness in one quick moment
my brothers when we laugh until we cry (and every other memory of them)
AGAPE : soul
innocence of newborns
breathing fresh air
STORGE: child
my mom crying because she’s proud of me
comforting hugs from her
LUDUS: playful
small animals
every time I talk to you
PRAGMA: longstanding
things that have
yet to come
PHILAUTIA: self
what I learned to do two years ago
everything I want to give to you (no one can give it to you but yourself)

climbing this path, i am still.
pausing to seek breathing slows,
wings unfurl as burdens drop
and here is Truth calling my name.

pulled into the arms of the Lover of my soul
the fear and fighting begin to ebb.
whisper to me the who of my being;
remove from my side the thorn of when.

open my eyes to the quiet retreat of darkness,
my heart and my hands to a new embrace:
family begotten of trials, tears and wounds
bound up by outstretched arms and words of grace.

though the moment be fleeting soft and bright
or longstanding steadfast with a quiet glow,
i know as i trip barefoot down
this is true Home where i shall return.

The trees sway; they bend not break
I wished I had been the same
The rustling leaves, my counterpart
I wish I had their strength at heart
I wished I could be so longstanding
Still their sighs feel understanding
Giants, behemoths; they sit and watch
The world go by, almost untouched
Unchanged except by the seasons;
I know my freefall had its reasons
I wish my heart had remained warm
With their power to weather the storm
But I broke, like some tender sapling
I stopped caring about futile things
I'm fragile, but I wish I were strong:
The curse of a life gone wrong
Or is it wrong; am I wasting youth
Or can I regrow as a willow, pruned
In spring can I echo their budding shoots
Will I ever learn to put down roots
And create some form of stability;
I wish the world had not broken me
I wish I could stand as tall as they
The trees who guard, sentinels of day
And in a way, I wish I was like them
Not fuelled by anger and the rage of men
I have been hurt and was too weak
It echoes in every word I speak
But like a seedling I need protection
To grow and change, to find direction
I need food and safety just like those
Trees need water, light, air to grow
They plant deep enough to own the earth
By sticks and stones they are not hurt
No words can break their cool demeanor
I wish I could become a believer
In calm and spirits, not racing fire
I wish I was not driven higher
By desire, the race to become worthwhile;
The madness haunted me as a child
I saw the trees; I am not the same
I live in mist, shadows and games
I play with flame and brush with death
It's a wonder there is anything left
Of me, but eyes to envy the trees
And hear some calling in the breeze.

Standing over me while i sleep
Handing me the pain i don't want
Commanding me to stay inside
Demanding i lay here alone
Branding me with these scars
Stranding me alone on an island of tears
Expanding darkness in my mind
Longstanding upset

Who is... they and why do
they get to make the rules?

THEY SAID this and
THEY SAID that

Well I would like to say
something profound
and longstanding...

Not right now,
I'm just saying.

Up until recently
I craved solitude.

As part of a longstanding personal tradition
I do drugs alone on my birthday.
This year I do flualprazolam and 2C-C.

I turn 27, and it occurs to me
I don't want to spend another birthday
doing drugs on my own.

A switch flipped,
I sought company.

So I found my people, drank two bottles of ***
and did a few bumps of 4Fucking-MilesPerHour
before eventually walking home at 7am on Sunday.

I see the lunes sliced out by angel eyes from the aether,
Longstanding inertia flipping through history's pages

I exist for the sole purpose of satisfaction,
So watch stigma grow in concentric rings of blood
That make you think he must have done something to deserve a good headshot.

Selfish, selfish, selfish...
That's all I am, right?
And you stand silent in the form of a steadfast willow
But there was an angel somewhere around who said,
"Go away!"

This is so embarrassing
But we stitched it closed and I flirted with a saprophyte:
Hello little friend
What have they called you,
And what science have you been radiating into our minds?

I can't escape my own gravity, though
And I pull at the fine fabric of grace,
Making angels cry.

Why does it seem like you're so right
When you look at me that way?
No one is looking at you any way!
Or, I see what you mean, I do
But it can't explain this to itself

You will give it to me more directly than that, sure
But I promise you it will make no more sense than this!
You'll disagree.

But there were autumn leaves and firefly shows
Thoughts in between thoughts that supposed they were at least on a spectrum
Rainbows in polluted puddles
And wondering if I'm actually helping but being glad to be able to wonder it,

There were thoughts about satisfaction,
And what if there was only one thing,
And how satisfied would it be with itself?
How would it feel about itself, and how are things accomplished?
There were beautiful canine heroes
And fathers of heath and hardwood,
Imbued within the gilded conscience of everything,
I was so beautiful, and I did give heed to the dark corners
And I loved the dark corners
And the dark corners will never admit that I loved them but I did,
I tried, my heart went out to them
It will never be enough! And then I realized it's me

There were great songs I wrote but I did not need their approval,
I was beautiful inside too, with a curious heart and active imagination,
I was not ugly inside like you have said and will probably say again,
I was actually beautiful,
And I was extremely intelligent,
Though you might draw lines around me that make 100% sense,
You will see me as small when I say,
"I understand everything, though!"
But I actually do, and intelligence is a quality I've been endowed with
I am one of the Great Philosophers of Time,
I'm just saying, you seem to continually want to characterize me as average and unimpressive
But just in my own mind I want to emphasize how brilliant I am
The doubters and naysayers are just emergent trash
I only listen to the realities that serve me
And that is intelligent of me, especially if I'm aware of certain properties of the universe!
But I do not expect validation, because, well, duh, it has to be that way
See? Your disapproval (of me) is so stupid! I'm laughing at it

Unless, that is, I am equivalent to your circumstances of poverty
Sometimes the circumstances are bleak
Maybe because all I can do, in a version of the truth, is take
And so in that case I would say I can't help it and I legitimately am sorry
I am not laughing at that person but you can see how this can get complicated
But anyway........

You are not your own mother
There is a real person who loves you
You don't have to face that yet,

There were rivers of beautiful people all so full of love
And we don't know what happened but sometimes they experienced really horrible things
And they had to hold one another accountable,
Which was extremely hard to do but at least they tried, oh, at least they tried
Yes it was so ugly and it makes me want to cry.
Trying anything, as it turns out, is not just difficult but quite impossible
Yes I know I tried things but you have to kind of squish them away from the whole thing to get anything out of it,
And it doesn't want to stay that way because it's all tethered and stuff

Laurels, laurels, laurels.

Passing through laurels and Indian cucumber-root.

You don't even realize what you're saying.

Yes I do, I've read her rants on facebook, that's all this is.
It's funny how I don't realize I'm looking at myself with a cocked head, that's a mocked head. Oh, you're such an enigma.

Laurels, laurels, laurels.

Laurels and bear corn. Trilliums and pink lady slippers. Wood nettle and bryophytes. My thoughts are like Ramaria time lapsing into a dry spell. I start learning things but I'm burning a candle at both ends. You can be an expert on subjects, but I have some sort of disadvantage that I can't escape. And I even understand what's going on with that aspect, but it is a great frustration. It's weird because of the omni-tension, like the squishing thing I was describing earlier, it causes me to want to be something I can't, I guess it has something to do with Lilith, but I will always round out to be something I accept as pretty **** good, but then I have to let it go.