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"manufacturers" poems
Industrial love, western manufacturers, they **** us over.
0
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 12:44 AM UTC
Haiku #1
Off the train I hit the streets and start laughing. This is ridiculous, incomprehensible. How can innumerable bipeds have individual inner lives. Why are they doing what they’re doing? I have no answer New York City but to also go about my business in this case prepare for surgery, survival. But why survive with so many exact replicas to replace me? A swarm of ants or hive of bees, social organisms they’re called, climbing over each other, avoiding bumping and amazingly making way, anticipating the sudden turns and straight paths of others, strangers but brothers, sisters incubating, the cells of a small ***** nodes of a single semi-conscious organism. The concept of a higher power that cares for me is also risible yet how else can I explain the surgeon and his team, robots and magnetic resonance imaging machines, all primed and trained to save my life. They are not particularly interested in what I do with my time. I am immediately in love with the Irish brogue of the head nurse, the Indian skin of the physician’s assistant. The long extraordinarily thin fingers of the famous surgeon. All mine to savor (and the other cancer patients). Despair, lose all hope that’s what the sign says at the gates of hell and at the Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center the sign says Be kind to our customers who are waiting and suffering. Yesterday’s suicidal thoughts: the mind is a clever servant, insufferable master. Therefore, meditate on this: absolute need, dependence on the Other. I still like Hombre, The Shootist and Ulzana’s Raid but realize those dead heroes were subordinate to society: the gun manufacturers who armed them. Thus, I go for cancer tests, accepting, not predicting results. Hero accepting help. A torrential rain following five days of flooding, tornadoes out west busting up wooden towns all because too many of us are hoarding plastic, herding electrons. None of us know how it will end, what the outcome will be (of our surgery). The best that can be said is Don’t forget to breathe. And you might as well believe in that higher power.
0
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 6:00 AM UTC
Upper Manhattan Medical Group
Off the train I hit the streets and start laughing. This is ridiculous, incomprehensible. How can innumerable bipeds have individual inner lives. Why are they doing what they’re doing? I have no answer New York City but to also go about my business in this case prepare for surgery, survival. But why survive with so many exact replicas to replace me? A swarm of ants or hive of bees, social organisms they’re called, climbing over each other, avoiding bumping and amazingly making way, anticipating the sudden turns and straight paths of others, strangers but brothers, sisters incubating, the cells of a small ***** nodes of a single semi-conscious organism. The concept of a higher power that cares for me is also risible yet how else can I explain the surgeon and his team, robots and magnetic resonance imaging machines, all primed and trained to save my life. They are not particularly interested in what I do with my time. I am immediately in love with the Irish brogue of the head nurse, the Indian skin of the physician’s assistant. The long extraordinarily thin fingers of the famous surgeon. All mine to savor (and the other cancer patients). Despair, lose all hope that’s what the sign says at the gates of hell and at the Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center the sign says Be kind to our customers who are waiting and suffering. Yesterday’s suicidal thoughts: the mind is a clever servant, insufferable master. Therefore, meditate on this: absolute need, dependence on the Other. I still like Hombre, The Shootist and Ulzana’s Raid but realize those dead heroes were subordinate to society: the gun manufacturers who armed them. Thus, I go for cancer tests, accepting, not predicting results. Hero accepting help. A torrential rain following five days of flooding, tornadoes out west busting up wooden towns all because too many of us are hoarding plastic, herding electrons. None of us know how it will end, what the outcome will be (of our surgery). The best that can be said is Don’t forget to breathe. And you might as well believe in that higher power.
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46
So tired yet so awake I sit at the edge of an ellipsis crimping the charred innards of my tattered soul to make a masterpiece of gore and internal war. over the years of self loathing I finally love myself but getting ****** up feels ****** perfect and watching this world unfold anew with each hit or shot rocks my mind unkind but exemplary in it's own fortitude to prevail my own veils aside they're cast and fumbled with as thick smiles seed and the pace is set for the evening I can't help but think that leaving could do me good but who backs out before the last shot? who leaves before the deafening toll of midnight? Cinderella's umbrella of security and purity is at jeopardy and with great haste she wastes away the good looks for late night ***** and nicotine forgetting to clean her closet of supreme validity on the functioning teen trying not to be mean, but completely obscene in gestures with the barbie's manufacturers groping for caspers in the utopian disasters of the girl they forged many decades back, but lost track of the track that played that summer night in the moonlight of immaculate humor and love above all the oozing essence that manifested now tested, for virtual ****** your cerebellum will tellem the positive credo that we all know is hooked on the days drift wood with byzantine benzodiazapines to guide her haunted spirit till the cracks turn to crevasses and prehistoric protons mate with electrons in the vat that is abrewing to plot the lies watch the skies fade to grey as it may be about time for the ecliptic rhymes to find reconciliation in the bladed grains of mortality and sigh for being high in this lowered juncture of subsisting future buys you time to mull over such a daydream as your last breath
0
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 7:51 AM UTC
Track 1
So tired yet so awake I sit at the edge of an ellipsis crimping the charred innards of my tattered soul to make a masterpiece of gore and internal war. over the years of self loathing I finally love myself but getting ****** up feels ****** perfect and watching this world unfold anew with each hit or shot rocks my mind unkind but exemplary in it's own fortitude to prevail my own veils aside they're cast and fumbled with as thick smiles seed and the pace is set for the evening I can't help but think that leaving could do me good but who backs out before the last shot? who leaves before the deafening toll of midnight? Cinderella's umbrella of security and purity is at jeopardy and with great haste she wastes away the good looks for late night ***** and nicotine forgetting to clean her closet of supreme validity on the functioning teen trying not to be mean, but completely obscene in gestures with the barbie's manufacturers groping for caspers in the utopian disasters of the girl they forged many decades back, but lost track of the track that played that summer night in the moonlight of immaculate humor and love above all the oozing essence that manifested now tested, for virtual ****** your cerebellum will tellem the positive credo that we all know is hooked on the days drift wood with byzantine benzodiazapines to guide her haunted spirit till the cracks turn to crevasses and prehistoric protons mate with electrons in the vat that is abrewing to plot the lies watch the skies fade to grey as it may be about time for the ecliptic rhymes to find reconciliation in the bladed grains of mortality and sigh for being high in this lowered juncture of subsisting future buys you time to mull over such a daydream as your last breath
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53
Crap-tastic manufacturers thicken molasses, While the turkey workers burn by the boss shoppers. Consumers pay your bills and spit out your will, After they chew up the crews and disrespect the efforts turned black. Good intentions don't exist and content is what they expect. So take pride that your worth dies when your work is defined by the consumers ability to think they're always right. And remember that reason takes a slumber when consumers choose the seasons of the year they want to see.
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Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 11:12 PM UTC
Take Pride In Your Work
My name is not romantic neither is it fantastic I am in the midst of men commanding all human I caused  man a lot Many suffer because of me Others die because of me Nothing Can be done without me Everything is done by me I break the chain of unity Mean couples divorce because of my absence When my voice speaks it shuts all the mouths of truth Those who have me in abundance Turns to command respect and prestige from those who search for me with courage without knowing I disappoint the trust of a man My searchers are my manufacturers my lovers are those I lynched silently I pray people don't recognize my inner self because I am toxic and made from that which I am Am I not like the light? makes the path clear in the dark for all human to follow I can't forget myself that All that glitters not gold It would have been better for man to search for love and wisdom than wasting precious time killing and dying for me I am only a deceiver of souls making them believe my absence is a curse so they can hurt and hate to purify  their souls but it is difficult to wake up the person not sleeping How I hate those who handle me with their conscience Helping others to recognize they can be happy without me How I hate those who think I am not all about the world Making others not to value me I am the only voice of the world and I am the only killer of the body and soul
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Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 1:55 AM UTC
My name is Money
The machinesed drones droning ozones made of homogenised genes by replicants from clinical doctrines and empirical indulgences Soulless and efficient, bred for duties destructives Capitalist fodder, programmed ready for earth's **** Regulate as required, inputted subs with pigs hearts Made followers with voracious appetite for blood mechanised barbarians on leash with one track mix Human shire horses in designer shods and faulty gauges Manufactured manufacturers limited and corollated Factories, dormitories partnered with like, watered and bedded till tomorrow, audiod to the Sterling whip Given ample ales, keep blinded and chained Distract and cater to baser instincts, *** *** *** Free 'love' free *** valueless values, what values Enjoy kids must return to work desk seven on the dot Time is money, clogs and production waits for no man, do or your pleasures denied Money, money money, honey for bees, honey for drones Soulless, dehumanised, pale, aged at thirty, heart attacks next Vacuous ghost programmed dunces Malfunctioning entities devoid of humanity Superficial plasticated robots, destruction default Industrial pieces with industrial minds Chemicalized drunks with wired brains They roam around screaming freedom and power!
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Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 8:28 PM UTC
Our Erstwhile Robots in Gucci......
somethings really gripe customers to excess and in the griping they seek redress a box with five tablets of soap isn't as it used to be the size of the tablets have been reduced quite considerably in years gone by a bar of soap had a fuller dimension but nowadays there is only smallness in a tablet's dimensions the customers are paying a mint for an undersized lathering bar manufacturers of soap must bring back the larger bars as customers are voicing their valid nah nah nah nahs
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Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 8:59 PM UTC
Soap Rant
Let us awake from the decay of strategic costumes where the incestuous fragrance of madness permeates golden dreams of eclectic strokes. Bureaucratic self-enhancement nurtures docile manufacturers of laborious compliance, whilst social conscience plummets to depths of callous and entrepreneurial versatility. Enduring imitations of an unsatisfactory kind is like pairing mint fondant with rich and savoury gravy which is acquired with strategic dishonesty. Oh, negligent wakefulness – will we ever arise and discern those lobotomised representatives in this legislative brothel of excessive absurdity? Shake me at one minute to midnight in the House of Lords.
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Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 10:44 PM UTC
Monarchical Slumber
THE FINE cloth of your love might be a fabric of Egypt, Something Sinbad, the sailor, took away from robbers, Something a traveler with plenty of money might pick up And bring home and stick on the walls and say: "There's a little thing made a hit with me When I was in Cairo-I think I must see Cairo again some day." So there are cornice manufacturers, chewing gum kings, Young Napoleons who corner eggs or corner cheese, Phenoms looking for more worlds to corner, And still other phenoms who lard themselves in And make a killing in steel, copper, permanganese, And they say to random friends in for a call: "Have you had a look at my wife? Here she is. Haven't I got her dolled up for fair?" O-ee! the fine cloth of your love might be a fabric of Egypt.
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1.6k
They Buy With an Eye to Looks
It's the next best thing! It's a scream! It's got a screen! and a million little buttons that won't ever do a thing to erase that feeling that you're feeling. why you are always waiting. like the Rockie's or the Canyon. like Columbus and the the great depression. like Woodstock and world wars. like the Illad and the Odyssey and The Beatles. something more than The consumer generation. a definition through epic episodes. a defining moment. The revolution has been sponsored by manufacturers and broadcasters and warmongers and pundits and people getting paid to tell you what you think. and what do you think? Why are we content with being incomplete? unfinished and beat? What the **** is so Comfy about that seat? You are not generation X or Y or Nothing or Nowhere. or any of these false names they've created to make us believe we are less than we are. we've been duped. the youth is not the future anymore. It's firmly in the grip of the old and accomplished. Your fate is their whim for a dollar. Your life is fuel for the fires. crass entertainment inspires your desires. And well, **** that. pull the wires from your brain and we'll fight to regain. what territory they've taken away. Make decisions for ourselves today.
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Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 2:32 PM UTC
And Now, These Non-Commercial Messages
Dear Grandma, Yesterday on Broadway I thought I saw your face front and center on the Times --- it was Margaret Thatcher, she's passed away! They say she was hatred; ruined the British manufacturers, the miners, and the arts; forgot the Irish freedom fighters, watched them die from a distance; they say she failed the English poor, even fulfilled the Belgrano's fate... Grandma, I thought of you in your garden, picking ripened Early Girls --- you so resemble Mrs. Thatcher; what will they say of you when you've gone? No more than brief obituaries printed in the weekend papers? Murmurs at the memorial during your eulogy? Although you've wronged me once or twice I can sympathize with your point of view; I hope someday they'll forgive Mrs. Thatcher, as I've forgiven you.
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Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 12:27 PM UTC
After Reading a Letter on the Daily Beast
As excited to return as he was to leave Bright eyes such bright eyes He senses my pain We enter... .... He skips to his drink Downs it in one Plods off to corner Flops down in the cool shade Raising a quizzical eyebrow Then doses off with a contented sigh .... Click, click of the mouse The key to the asylum gate turns The inmates scream out beyond my screen Some live in heaven others in hell Perversely I sit here Omnipresent My fingers jabbing at the keyboard Harvesting the daily cruelties of mankind Kind of "men" I'm sick At least sickened I SEE WAR LOTS OF HIDEOUS WAR TWISTED CORPSES INSANITY GRIEF I see twisted politicians pretending to care Banks rubbing their hands with glee Arms manufacturers celebrating bonuses I see death equals money for some Lots of death = Lots of money Kids shelled on a beach, hospitals destroyed "well they use human shields" So that must mean those humans are worthless? I see a death toll of 1400...and RISING! I see no God I see genocide Clicking and typing just makes it worse Calling each other "dogs" a repeated curse Dogs! Dehumanizing the enemy For the purpose of easy slaughter. The devoted mother and father The innocent son and daughter Where is this God? Either/ any version will do Or is it all about NOTHING! Nothing but ********** and greed. Click, click... ISIS When will humanity wake up
0
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
Dog (Part 3)
Eyes wide open, mind tightly shut, we play victims to the postman slotting news and letters where little light filters through, only as he sees fit. Grotesque, gross manufacturers spewing out page after page after page of page three scandals - of rich brats waxing lyrical, American hip-hop DUIs, fat cats cat-fighting. Media breast-feeds her gullible men and milks the misfortunes. We are part of the orchestra - synchronised puppets looking to our Master to tell us how to read the notes. Outside there are flimsy flyers advertising freedom that have morphed into paper-planes, but are impenetrable of ignorant masses, flitting around the heads of the blind - like cartoon characters after being beaten up by fists. It is injustice. Peel the scales from your eyes and open the flood-gates, let forth the criticism! Ask why an American singer's ten minute jail sentence is more important than an Afghan girl's sentencing to be gang-raped. Ask who the ten percent of the South African population are that receive sixty percent of our gross national income and how to alter that socio-economic gap. Ask what is to become of learners who pass with thirty percent and if that is even possible when books aren't being delivered to schools. Ask where one can find manifestos instead of accusations from each political party. Do not let them dictate your truths as CAPITALISED LETTERS with no urgency. Do not let them confine your insight to the ink on a page. We are worth more than glossy sensationalism. We are worthy of urgent honesty, transparency and enlightenment - herein lies true freedom. The liberation of the mind. The uncoiling fist of a freedom fighter revealing the truth held within. Amandla awethu.
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Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 4:09 PM UTC
Amandla
Eyes wide open, mind tightly shut, we play victims to the postman slotting news and letters where little light filters through, only as he sees fit. Grotesque, gross manufacturers spewing out page after page after page of page three scandals - of rich brats waxing lyrical, American hip-hop DUIs, fat cats cat-fighting. Media breast-feeds her gullible men and milks the misfortunes. We are part of the orchestra - synchronised puppets looking to our Master to tell us how to read the notes. Outside there are flimsy flyers advertising freedom that have morphed into paper-planes, but are impenetrable of ignorant masses, flitting around the heads of the blind - like cartoon characters after being beaten up by fists. It is injustice. Peel the scales from your eyes and open the flood-gates, let forth the criticism! Ask why an American singer's ten minute jail sentence is more important than an Afghan girl's sentencing to be gang-raped. Ask who the ten percent of the South African population are that receive sixty percent of our gross national income and how to alter that socio-economic gap. Ask what is to become of learners who pass with thirty percent and if that is even possible when books aren't being delivered to schools. Ask where one can find manifestos instead of accusations from each political party. Do not let them dictate your truths as CAPITALISED LETTERS with no urgency. Do not let them confine your insight to the ink on a page. We are worth more than glossy sensationalism. We are worthy of urgent honesty, transparency and enlightenment - herein lies true freedom. The liberation of the mind. The uncoiling fist of a freedom fighter revealing the truth held within. Amandla awethu.
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50
The turning dials of that old car radio, Metallic, as the rubber coverings fell off. What had once protected, lost by the twisting of that radio's lifespan. In a car, old as it's manufacturers who are all dead, Her strength is still strong on this long journey to the bigger city. I fiddle through that plastic box of old cassette tapes. My finger picking out a title to fill the radio's mouth. To fill it up with so much music; that it's old speakers ***** out noise. Choking the engine of the car's battery, the lights on the gauges flicker, And I pull over the side of the road, it's dark outside and cold. Not of the night but of the music's chords. _I'm alone._ Waiting for a stranger to stop by, and jumpstart my car. But only a God, could jumpstart my heart. As I reminisce on what it felt like being in love. A station I had once tuned into, with all it's cheesy love songs. And their catchy hooks. _I miss the sound of the music._ A small car pulls up beside me. Yellow as the sunflower open to the sun. Bright as a smile; of someone you're glad to see. 'How long has it been,' you'd ask them. The window went down; as a girl with a smile greeted me only by a gaze. 'Do you need help stranger,' she asked. 'Help with a lot of things, I doubt you could come up to. But you're welcome to try,' my heart replied. I nodded slightly, hoping this could be a quick fix. The quickest way for me out of a conversation. _But my car was dead._ The stranger offered me a ride to the next town, to grab a mechanic. I reluctantly agreed. And before I hopped in that box Sunny, I had to grab my plastic case of cassettes. She seemed keen on what contents I had at hand. Insisting I put a tape inside her radio. 'Hey that's my favourite band,' she said. I never smiled as real in that moment, than I ever did before. With so much in common, we fed our ears on good music, with our similar tastes. Making it to the next town, I gave my thanks. _Not expecting much back._ 'Here's my number. We should hang out sometime to listen to some good music. I'll trade you my number for a couple of tapes,' she said. She drove off leaving me with a smile, a number, and a reason for them both. As I wondered where next this story would go... __I'd love to tune into that.__
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Feb 27, 2022
Feb 27, 2022 at 1:10 PM UTC
Old car radio
The turning dials of that old car radio, Metallic, as the rubber coverings fell off. What had once protected, lost by the twisting of that radio's lifespan. In a car, old as it's manufacturers who are all dead, Her strength is still strong on this long journey to the bigger city. I fiddle through that plastic box of old cassette tapes. My finger picking out a title to fill the radio's mouth. To fill it up with so much music; that it's old speakers ***** out noise. Choking the engine of the car's battery, the lights on the gauges flicker, And I pull over the side of the road, it's dark outside and cold. Not of the night but of the music's chords. _I'm alone._ Waiting for a stranger to stop by, and jumpstart my car. But only a God, could jumpstart my heart. As I reminisce on what it felt like being in love. A station I had once tuned into, with all it's cheesy love songs. And their catchy hooks. _I miss the sound of the music._ A small car pulls up beside me. Yellow as the sunflower open to the sun. Bright as a smile; of someone you're glad to see. 'How long has it been,' you'd ask them. The window went down; as a girl with a smile greeted me only by a gaze. 'Do you need help stranger,' she asked. 'Help with a lot of things, I doubt you could come up to. But you're welcome to try,' my heart replied. I nodded slightly, hoping this could be a quick fix. The quickest way for me out of a conversation. _But my car was dead._ The stranger offered me a ride to the next town, to grab a mechanic. I reluctantly agreed. And before I hopped in that box Sunny, I had to grab my plastic case of cassettes. She seemed keen on what contents I had at hand. Insisting I put a tape inside her radio. 'Hey that's my favourite band,' she said. I never smiled as real in that moment, than I ever did before. With so much in common, we fed our ears on good music, with our similar tastes. Making it to the next town, I gave my thanks. _Not expecting much back._ 'Here's my number. We should hang out sometime to listen to some good music. I'll trade you my number for a couple of tapes,' she said. She drove off leaving me with a smile, a number, and a reason for them both. As I wondered where next this story would go... __I'd love to tune into that.__
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63
Renault and Ford have joined forces to create the perfect small car for women. Mixing the Renault 'Clio' and the Ford 'Taurus' they have designed the 'Clitaurus'. It comes in pink, and the average male car thief won't be able to find it - let alone turn it on - even if someone tells him where it is and how to do it. Rumour has it though, it can be a real ***** to start in the morning! Some have reported that on cold winter mornings, when you really need it, you can't get it to turn over. New models are initially fun to own, but very costly to maintain, and horribly expensive to get rid of. Used models may initially appear to have curb appeal and a low price, but eventually have an increased appetite for fuel, and the curb weight typically increases with age. Manufacturers are baffled as to how the size of the boot increases, but say that the paint may just make it LOOK bigger. This model is not expected to reach collector status. Most owners find it is best to lease one, and replace it when it becomes troublesome.
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Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
Ya Gotta Laugh 2
(1) "Gimme" cap(billed cap with a manufacturers name on it-         found at truck stops" everywhere.) (1) Pair of bibbed, denim, overalls (with enough pockets to carry who knows what!) (1) Folding Buck Knife with 3" razor-sharp blade (1) Pair of scruffed boots(with steel toe - in event the knife is dropped) (1) Batch(more than three) hardwood tree limbs(pre-trimmed)18" long (1) Park Bench(seats at least three)-Strategically placed in front of the       county courthouse, or other municipal facility (1) Bottomless bag of stories, tales, yarns, opinions, etc. Blend together, stir frequently, START WHITTL'N! ENJOY the DAY!! (Weather is not a factor) copyright: richard riddle-February 09, 2015
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Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC
Recipe for "Peace of Mind"
Today shed I a tear for every lost soul Lost in the furtherance of ill-conceived war Lost at the hands of a political goal Lost now to good health, consistently poor. As refugees they travel to find peaceful land Relying on handouts from a charity trough Reviled by so many who don’t understand Who deny there’s a problem or just shrug it off. Would a family not desperate get in one of those boats And set sail over seas that so frequently **** And give all of their money to who promises the most Who manipulates their misery with such deadly skill. Yes, shed a tear for humanity’s sake Have we lost all compassion and good grace Let us recognise the pain and the risks that they take And be grateful that it’s something that we will not face. But politics the ***** whose behaviour is arch And the arms manufacturers and their riches Mean more refugees will set off on the march While so many lie dead in quickly dug ditches. Man is truly his own worst enemy. ©Joe Wilson – Today shed I a tear…2016
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Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 11:57 AM UTC
Today shed I a tear...
While The negativity Manufacturers On this wonderful planet at an alarming rate The Greatest Love and wisdom comes from the CHILD! Not History Science Theology or Those good and bad, BUT, From those Who Speak The Truth And utter JOBBY!
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Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 8:04 PM UTC
The last breath from a dying beetle/wren.
UKFT has launched Made It, a collaboration between the trade body, Graduate Fashion Week and Marks & Spencer designed to bring together graduate designers and UK manufacturers. As part of the initiative, which was launched at a reception at the Houses of Parliament last night, Marks & Spencer and the UKFT will sponsor a number of Graduate Fashion Week winners to have their collections made in the UK. In addition, to promote a better understanding of UK manufacturers and to encourage designers to use them as their preferred source of manufacturing, the UKFT, Marks & Spencer and Graduate Fashion Week will host a series of Masterclasses at five select universities across the country. Hosted by Damian Collins MP, UKFT and Graduate Fashion Week, the reception included a catwalk show and was attended by key policy makers, industry influencers, major retailers, leading brands and UK manufacturers, with special guests including Graduate Fashion Week ambassadors Alesha Dixon, Mandi Lennard and Caryn Franklin as well as designer Zandra Rhodes and fashion critic Suzy Menkes. “The UK has some of the best designer graduates in the world and some of the most talented manufacturers – Made It brings them together. Not only will we see the creation of some stunning collections, the project will also help to ensure the success of the next generation in understanding the business of fashion, which is a fundamental part of UKFT’s purpose and key whether you are developing a new brand, working with manufacturers or growing business overseas,” said UKFT chairman Nigel Lugg. Graduate Fashion Week managing director Martyn Roberts said the initiative was “a wonderful opportunity” for GFW students to get first hand knowledge and experience of working with British manufacturers. “These are vital skills for fashion design graduates and essential for keeping Britain at the forefront of design,” he said.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
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Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 1:31 AM UTC
UKFT launches Made It to support graduate designers and UK manufacturers
UKFT has launched Made It, a collaboration between the trade body, Graduate Fashion Week and Marks & Spencer designed to bring together graduate designers and UK manufacturers. As part of the initiative, which was launched at a reception at the Houses of Parliament last night, Marks & Spencer and the UKFT will sponsor a number of Graduate Fashion Week winners to have their collections made in the UK. In addition, to promote a better understanding of UK manufacturers and to encourage designers to use them as their preferred source of manufacturing, the UKFT, Marks & Spencer and Graduate Fashion Week will host a series of Masterclasses at five select universities across the country. Hosted by Damian Collins MP, UKFT and Graduate Fashion Week, the reception included a catwalk show and was attended by key policy makers, industry influencers, major retailers, leading brands and UK manufacturers, with special guests including Graduate Fashion Week ambassadors Alesha Dixon, Mandi Lennard and Caryn Franklin as well as designer Zandra Rhodes and fashion critic Suzy Menkes. “The UK has some of the best designer graduates in the world and some of the most talented manufacturers – Made It brings them together. Not only will we see the creation of some stunning collections, the project will also help to ensure the success of the next generation in understanding the business of fashion, which is a fundamental part of UKFT’s purpose and key whether you are developing a new brand, working with manufacturers or growing business overseas,” said UKFT chairman Nigel Lugg. Graduate Fashion Week managing director Martyn Roberts said the initiative was “a wonderful opportunity” for GFW students to get first hand knowledge and experience of working with British manufacturers. “These are vital skills for fashion design graduates and essential for keeping Britain at the forefront of design,” he said.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
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6
We are the pretenders, the decievers I am a lover, a believer We are the manufacturers of wrong, of wrought I am a man who has preached, and also taught We are providing the means known to divide I am a man that can't be bought, I put no price on pride We are a formation formed from shadows, from shrouds I am a man that has woken up and saw my country, my town in flames and fury, baked by the disease of propaganda We have tried, failed, and thrown our hands up I am a man who you cannot corrupt
0
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 9:30 PM UTC
We Are, I Am
Mao Tse Sorry you misunderstood me, I didn't mean to mislead Mao Tse you can be a world leader by setting an example Mao Tse how 'bout cleaning a ***** planet Mao Tse I hear your plea but, you are heading in the wrong direction    Mao Tse over here we have cars that run on water    Mao Tse they even cost less then pollution makers    Mao Tse popular mechanics magazine gave us the plan [schematic] more than a decade ago    Mao Tse thank you for working overtime to save the world Mao Tse we love your solar panels Mao Tse not enough time to retrain thinking? Mao Tse oil men of greed have destroyed us again Mao Tse oil and water don't mix Mao Tse you can not die from spilling the power of the wind Mao Tse did all of your pollution maker manufacturers er, gas guzzling ISIS supporters really bounce back after less than one year Really? Mao Tse Really? I'm sorry you had closed your ears
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Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
Dear Friend
**** refuses to use DPA, nationalize producing, distributing accurate testing, PPEs, not saving taxpayers billions over-spent, 100,000's of their lives, while preaching his 'corona schmorona' policies at disease super-spreader rallies, exterminating republicans. "...We(e),..." can inspire billionaires: replace our 'shoulda, coulda, woulda' situation with a win. Loans can purchase combining of medical manufacturers to supply States with testing, PPEs, stop carnage.
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Jul 16, 2020
Jul 16, 2020 at 6:36 AM UTC
Be The Citizen, Country, That Could, Instead (II)
We are against the death penalty, and so Of thoughtful caritas one recommends Life sentences with no chance for parole (And endless-loop re-runs of Lost in Space) For 1. The manufacturers of this new computer 2. The famous software company who couldn’t          Program their ///es out of a pay toilet 3. And the electronics chain who replies         To emails with “Dear Valued Customer” And vaporous words which say nothing at all And now may Olivetti Underwood Have mercy upon their polluted souls
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Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 4:16 PM UTC
If God is Love, Why Does He Permit Software Developers?
Green Stars - FBI, Black, Brown, Black, Six Hours HD - km 31 - Ohm Ghemegius Vatniji 2786 in 5 minutes - HD - Greece 10 -10 - 495K - - 10 Printed Kingdoms - May 1283k Award 10 MINUTES - HD ~ KB: 5 minutes and 10 minutes as a new device key - 3851 2153 kg 582.3K silent - 206 100,000 - 10 minutes, 10 consultants 10 to 12 minutes, 10 minutes, 10 minutes, 81 minutes, 10 minutes, 10 minutes, 10 minutes, 10 minutes, 2.4 minutes, 3 MB - HD 10 Intermediate - 16.35 Saudi Arabia 400, which is black and white, 7 Jamaican pocket speaker ******* I, in other words, is not easy. Despite global competition, the ARP 2029F L25 is Robinson's secretary for the EU, Brazil, the United Kingdom and other health services in square meters. The center is 120 meters deep, all merchants work. In New York, greens are black and white, black and white, black and white in the United States and Australia. South Africa, stars and federal investigations of clerics continue in the world of Western **** cadres. - 3.1 km - HD polyethylene and black, white, white printed ink - HD 6 Jamie's Gold Mining brings small flowers 278.6 amazing dreams 5 minutes. 10-10 ~ 5 hours HD HD - 495C children - 10 minutes. 10 minutes after the hard drive 10 hours of silence 5823K consultants - blocked and ***** - 3051k - 2061k shots - 2.2 feet tall - well - 2 hours and 10 new standard movements in seven minutes 5823K HD - 26 minutes - 10 - 81, 3 MB - 16.35. 400 right 10 HD Multimedia: the simple Yeek model is not easy. This is due to the fact that the period of five years was determined by the African region. Note: Armageddon in 2029 1 Samuel, Samuel standing. North Robertson Road, North America, Robertson Road, North America, Robertson Road, United States, United Kingdom, Cichy Camera CAV 1200800000, but manufacturers: black, black, white, black, black, black, white and many others. - Jamie Gold took 5 minute breaks 278.6 dreams, black, gray, HD, gray for six minutes - United States, Russia, South Africa, stars Graham - Ruidoso and stars in New York, Jane's America Western Union 3, 1K. - Easy, sweet and Greek 10-10 - New HD ~ 5 MINUTES - C 495 Travel - Around 10 minutes - April 04 Only 10 sunny rooms. 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes, negative emotions - 26 min x min - 81.3 minutes, MB - black and white, black, white, Hair from Saudi Arabia 400 16.35 Liquid plate for ten minutes in two minutes. Dr. Jack is not easy in African countries have information on 2029 attacks 1, Sam goes on to page 1. In Europe, Robertson formed in 2050 the fourth Brazilian testing program and the Black Sea, the governor of France, Tupiline and many others. The first great British thief is a British farmer born in 2001 with billions of dollars.
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Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 12:50 AM UTC
Ishikirikiretochi Beauty [Armageddon in 2029: 1 Samuel]
Green Stars - FBI, Black, Brown, Black, Six Hours HD - km 31 - Ohm Ghemegius Vatniji 2786 in 5 minutes - HD - Greece 10 -10 - 495K - - 10 Printed Kingdoms - May 1283k Award 10 MINUTES - HD ~ KB: 5 minutes and 10 minutes as a new device key - 3851 2153 kg 582.3K silent - 206 100,000 - 10 minutes, 10 consultants 10 to 12 minutes, 10 minutes, 10 minutes, 81 minutes, 10 minutes, 10 minutes, 10 minutes, 10 minutes, 2.4 minutes, 3 MB - HD 10 Intermediate - 16.35 Saudi Arabia 400, which is black and white, 7 Jamaican pocket speaker ******* I, in other words, is not easy. Despite global competition, the ARP 2029F L25 is Robinson's secretary for the EU, Brazil, the United Kingdom and other health services in square meters. The center is 120 meters deep, all merchants work. In New York, greens are black and white, black and white, black and white in the United States and Australia. South Africa, stars and federal investigations of clerics continue in the world of Western **** cadres. - 3.1 km - HD polyethylene and black, white, white printed ink - HD 6 Jamie's Gold Mining brings small flowers 278.6 amazing dreams 5 minutes. 10-10 ~ 5 hours HD HD - 495C children - 10 minutes. 10 minutes after the hard drive 10 hours of silence 5823K consultants - blocked and ***** - 3051k - 2061k shots - 2.2 feet tall - well - 2 hours and 10 new standard movements in seven minutes 5823K HD - 26 minutes - 10 - 81, 3 MB - 16.35. 400 right 10 HD Multimedia: the simple Yeek model is not easy. This is due to the fact that the period of five years was determined by the African region. Note: Armageddon in 2029 1 Samuel, Samuel standing. North Robertson Road, North America, Robertson Road, North America, Robertson Road, United States, United Kingdom, Cichy Camera CAV 1200800000, but manufacturers: black, black, white, black, black, black, white and many others. - Jamie Gold took 5 minute breaks 278.6 dreams, black, gray, HD, gray for six minutes - United States, Russia, South Africa, stars Graham - Ruidoso and stars in New York, Jane's America Western Union 3, 1K. - Easy, sweet and Greek 10-10 - New HD ~ 5 MINUTES - C 495 Travel - Around 10 minutes - April 04 Only 10 sunny rooms. 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes 10 minutes, negative emotions - 26 min x min - 81.3 minutes, MB - black and white, black, white, Hair from Saudi Arabia 400 16.35 Liquid plate for ten minutes in two minutes. Dr. Jack is not easy in African countries have information on 2029 attacks 1, Sam goes on to page 1. In Europe, Robertson formed in 2050 the fourth Brazilian testing program and the Black Sea, the governor of France, Tupiline and many others. The first great British thief is a British farmer born in 2001 with billions of dollars.
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