For the fifth year in a row, Kering and Parsons School of Fashion rolled out the ‘Empowering Imagination’ design initiative. The competition engaged twelve 2016 graduates of the Parsons BFA Fashion Design program, who "were selected for their excellence in vision, acute awareness in design identity, and mastery of technical competencies." The winners, Ya Jun Lin and Tiffany Huang, will be awarded a 2-week trip to Kering facilities in Italy in June 2016 and will have their thesis collections featured in Saks Fifth Avenue New York’s windows.

The Kering and Parsons competition, which is currently in its fifth year, is one of a growing number of design competitions, including but not limited to the LVMH Prize, the ANDAM Awards, the Council of Fashion Designers of America/Vogue Fashion Fund, and its British counterpart, the Woolmark Prize, the Ecco Domani fashion award, and the Hyères Festival. among others.

In the generations prior, designers were certainly nominated for awards, but it seems that there was not nearly as intense of a focus on design competitions as a means for designers to get their footing, for design houses to scout talent, or for these competitions to select the best of the best in a especially large pool of young talent. Fern Mallis, the former executive director of the Council of Fashion Designers of America and an industry consultant, told the New York Times: “Take the Calvin [Kleins] and the Donna [Karans] and the Ralph [Laurens] of the world. Some of these people had money from a friend or a partner who worked with them, but they weren’t out spending their time doing competitions and winning awards to get their business going.” She sheds light on an essential element: The relatively drastic difference between the state of fashion then and fashion now. Fashion then was slower, less global, and (a lot) less dominated by the internet, and so, it made for quite different circumstances for the building of a fashion brand.

Nowadays, young designers are more or less going full speed ahead right off the bat. They show comprehensive collections, many of which consist of garments and an array of accessories. They are expected to be active on social media. They are expected to establish a strong industry presence (think: Go to events and parties). They are expected to cope with the fashion business that has become large-scale and international. They are expected to collaborate to expand their reach, and while it does, at times, feel excessive, this is the reality because the industry is moving at such a quick pace, one that some argue is unsustainably rapid. The result is designers and design houses consistently building their brands and very rarely starting small. Case in point: Young brands showing pre-collections within a few years of setting up shop (for a total of four collections per year, not counting any collaboration or capsule collections), and established brands showing roughly four womenswear collections, four menswear collections, two couture collections, and quite often, a few diffusion collections each year.

The current climate of 'more is more' (more collections, more collaborations, more social media, more international know-how, etc.) in fashion is what sets currently emerging brands apart from older brands, many of which started small. This reality also sheds light on the increasing frequency with which designers rely on competitions as a means of gaining funds, as well as a means of establishing their names and not uncommonly, gaining outside funding.

The Ralphs, Tommys, Calvins and Perrys started off a bit differently. Ralph Lauren, for instance, started a niche business. The empire builder, now 74, got his start working at a department store then worked for a private label tie manufacturer (which made ties for Brooks Brothers and Paul Stuart). He eventually convinced them to let him make ties under the Polo label and work out of a drawer in their showroom. After gaining credibility thanks to the impeccable quality of his ties, he expanded into other things. Tommy Hilfiger similarly started with one key garment: Jeans. After making a name for himself by buying jeans, altering them into bellbottoms and reselling them at Brown’s in Manhattan, he opened a store catering to those that wanted a “rock star” aesthetic when he was 18-years old with $150. While the store went bankrupt by the time he was 25, it allowed him to get his foot in the door. He was offered design positions at Calvin Klein (who also got his start by focusing on a single garment: Coats. With $2,000 of his own money and $10,000 lent to him by a friend, he set up shop; in 1973, he got his big break when a major department store buyer accidentally walked into his showroom and placed an order for $50,000). Hilfiger was also offered a design position with Perry Ellis but turned them down to start his eponymous with help from the Murjani Group. Speaking of Perry Ellis, the NYU grad went to work at an upscale retail store in Virginia, where he was promoted to a buying/merchandising position in NYC, where he was eventually offered a chance to start his own label, a small operation. After several years of success, he spun it off as its own entity. Marc Jacobs, who falls into a bit of a younger generation, started out focusing on sweaters.

These few individuals, some of the biggest names in American fashion, obviously share a common technique. They intentionally started very small. They built slowly from there, and they had the luxury of being able to do so. Others, such as Hubert de Givenchy, Alexander McQueen and his successor Sarah Burton, Nicolas Ghesquière, Julien Macdonald, John Galliano and his successor Bill Gaytten, and others, spent time as apprentices, working up to design directors or creative directors, and maybe maintaining a small eponymous label on the side. As I mentioned, attempting to compare these great brand builders or notable creative directors to the young designers of today is a bit like comparing apples and oranges, as the nature of the market now is vastly different from what it looked like 20 years ago, let alone 30 or 40 years ago.

With this in mind, fashion competitions have begun to play an important role in helping designers to cope with the increasing need to establish a brand early on. It seems to me that winning (or nearly winning) a prestigious fashion competition results in several key rewards.

Primarily, it puts a designer's name and brand on the map. This is likely the least noteworthy of the rewards, as chances are, if you are selected to participate in a design competition, your name and brand are already out there to some extent as one of the most promising young designers of the moment.

Second are the actual prizes, which commonly include mentoring from industry insiders and monetary grants. We know that participation in competitions, such as the CFDA/Vogue Fashion Fund, the Woolmark Prize, the Swarovski, Ecco Domani, the LVMH Prize, etc., gives emerging designers face time with and mentoring from some of the most successful names in the industry. Chris Peters, half of the label Creatures of the Wind (pictured above), whose brand has been nominated for half of the aforementioned awards says of such participation: “It feels like we’ve talked to possibly everyone in fashion that we can possibly talk to." The grants, which range anywhere from $25,o00 to $400,000 and beyond, are obviously important, as many emerging designers take this money and stage a runway show or launch pre-collections, which often affect the business' bottom line in a major and positive way.

The third benefit is, in my opinion, the most significant. It seems that competitions also provide brands with some reputability in terms of finding funding. At the moment, the sea of young brands which is terribly vast. Like law school graduates, there are a lot of design school graduates. With this in mind, these competitions are, for the most part, serving as a selection mechanism. Sure, the inevitable industry politics and alternate agendas exist (without which the finalists lists may look a bit different), but great talent is being scouted, nonetheless. Not only is it important to showcase the most promising young talent and provide them with mentoring and grant money, as a way of maintaining an industry, but these competitions also do a monumental service to young brands in terms of securing additional funding. One of the most challenging aspects of the business for young/emerging brands is producing and growing absent outside investors' funds, and often, the only way for brands' to have access to such funds is by showing a proven sales track record, something that is difficult to establish when you've already put all of your money into your business and it is just not enough. This is a frustrating cycle for young designers.

However, this is where design competitions are a saving grace. If we look to recent Council of Fashion Designers of America/Vogue Fashion Fund winners and runners-up, for instance, it is not uncommon to see funding (distinct from the grants associated with winning) come on the heels of successful participation. Chrome Hearts, the cult L.A.-based accessories label, acquired a minority stake in The Elder Statesman, the brand established by Greg Chait, the 2012 winner, this past March. A minority stake in 2011 winner Joseph Altuzarra's eponymous label was purchased by luxury conglomerate Kering in September 2013. Creatures of the Wind, the NYC-based brand founded by Shane Gabier and Chris Peters, which took home a runner-up prize in the 2011 competition, welcomed an investment from The Dock Group, a Los Angeles-based fashion investment firm, last year, as well.

Across the pond, the British Fashion Council/Vogue Fashion Fund has awarded prizes to a handful of designers who have gone on to land noteworthy investments. In January 2013, Christopher Kane (pictured below), the 2011 winner, sold a majority stake in his brand to Kering. Footwear designer Nicholas Kirkwood was named the winner 2013 in May and by September, a majority stake in his company had been acquired by LVMH.

Thus, while the exposure that fashion design competition participants gain, and the mentoring and monetary grants that the winners enjoy, are certainly not to be discounted, the takeaway is much larger than that. These competitions are becoming the new way for investors and luxury conglomerates to source new talent, and for young brands to land the outside investments that they so desperately need to produce their collections, expand their studio space, build upon their existing collections, and even open brick and mortar stores.

While no one has scooped up inaugural LVMH winner Thomas Tait’s brand yet or fellow winner, Marques'Almeida, it is likely just be a matter of time.Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses | http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-sydney

I know that there is a table
in a Catholic high school in my local town
with an etch of the letter "G"
next to boredom-inspired vandal,
jagged lines, circles,
perhaps a few ******* shapes
as silly high school boys
are prone to draw.

An Advanced Maths textbook sits on a shelf
with a little doodle
of a peace sign next to an emo smiley
from a time where I was caught
between two phases,
tight black jeans and a flowing turquoise shirt.

Tobacco stains smeared
over the wood of a sealed off door
just outside my bedroom,
evidence of the first time
I tried a cigarette, seven years old,
and then panicked and tried to
flush it down the toilet,
only to have to fish it out and stuff it
in a little crevice, to be hidden and
remain there for seven years.

We leave all these little marks
and stains
in places we've been.
Spilled food, spilled ink, spilled drink,
tobacco stains and pools of blood.
"The marks humans leave are
too often scars."

I have scars.
Left forearm. Right calf. Right wrist bone. Both kneecaps.

A scar across my ribs and chest I was
so desperate to be rid of,
I bathed myself in oils and it was
the first scab I
never picked at; but a couple of weeks ago
I dreamt it was there again, fresh.
It tore open in front of everyone, bled out,
and I woke up gasping, drowning in my fear,
agonised, clutching at a wound that'd long since faded
convinced I could feel it splitting me apart again.

I have evidence all over my body
and more buried deep within the recesses of my mind,
scars so jagged they put knives to shame,
shining, pale, like diamonds in moonlight
not half as precious
but still invaluable.
Evidence of the marks humans leave behind.

I'm not innocent.
I don't pretend like I am.
I know there is a man out there
who gained another scar to add to his collection
when he was fourteen years old.
I know my hands carved it into his skin.
I know I used to use my fists
when others used their words to hurt me.

When I die, I know that I will leave
pieces of myself
everywhere
I've ever been. Whether people know it
or not, whether they
remember me
or not. There are ink stains
and coffee spills. My blood
is still on the floor of his house.
The high school cafeteria
has a circle of red
from a nosebleed I didn't realise I was having.
There are parks wearing my graffiti
and children donning my old clothes, and people overseas
still alive because of me

(or that's what they'll tell me, but
all I did was talk.
Give yourself the credit you guys deserve,
you're the ones who chose to listen.
You're the ones who had the strength to
pick your head up and carry on)

There are exes who still think of me
and friends who will one day
come across some article of clothing
or a piece of technology
I left behind after a sleepover.
Teachers who will remember
that smart, sarcastic student
who had panic attacks in their classrooms
and drank coffee in the mentoring hub with Mrs. Hume
whilst buttering bagels and functioning on no sleep.

Maybe our place in the universe is
insignificant. Or maybe it's the
most significant thing
of all.
Maybe the Buddhists are right.
Maybe we are the universe, together
as one. I sure think it makes sense.

Streams of consciousness
and spirits that need healing.
We work the sun
without even realising we're doing it.
We destroy it, too,
which is perhaps why we
are so self destructive in turn.

Maybe we're
smaller than specs of dust
but that's okay.
You don't have anything
without the particles required
to make things up.
Everything is a collection of atoms:
the tiniest things of all
yet they're the centre of everything,
the beginning of everything.

So when the end comes and
we burst back into the sky,
stardust and souls and
blinking little lights,
we'll have left our marks on the earth
regardless of who remembers
and we'll still be there, twinkling,
a collection of atoms that came from a supernova
essential to the makeup of galaxies
and life itself.
What could be more beautiful than that?

I stand alone in the dark Fulton Street subway station,
Breathing in the *****-scented air,
Breathing out clouds of steam,
A subway train rushes along,
Not stopping,
Biting at my eardrums,
With the painful percussion,
Of thousands of people,
Silently screaming,

I don’t want to see,
     I don’t want to see,
          I don’t want to see,

The air fanned by each subway car,
Rushes against me,
Pushes the ozone and the smell of burnt brake linings,
Into my nostrils,
Along with the air,
****** through the iron gratings,
Along miles of Brooklyn sidewalks,
Carrying the odor of a *******’s festering sores,
And the cries of a hungry, fatherless child in ***** diapers,
And the hoarse moaning of a city councilman mentoring a young intern,
And the cheap perfume of a fourteen year-old runaway,
Turning $20 tricks in an alley,
Smelling of stale Chinese food and wet dogs,
And . . .

I don’t want to see,
     I don’t want to see,
          I don’t want to see,

. . . the smell of spoiled cabbage soup,
And the rancid remains of a hotdog buried in sauerkraut,
And putrid lilies lying in a gutter,
All assaulting me, forcing me backwards,
Until my back presses against,
The grimy once-white tiles,
That coldly burn their graffiti on my spine:

God is dead,
Bake a ****,
Whitey *****,
**** the *******,

I don’t want to see,
     I don’t want to see,
          I don’t want to see,

The train finally passes,
Its red eyes receding into the dank,
Dark tunnel beyond the platform,
The screeches and screams slowly die out,
Their echoes ******* behind them,
The smell,
Of my,
Warm
*****.

My concept of the issue concerning Cemeteries has been maintained for many years under a remarkable process falls recoup credibility. Unknown worlds to which we do not know what to believe, are usually put into question.

Constantly let the silent fields were to lie the dead, but it is not, rather than me think so. Surely Quantum Theory indicates a basic unit of the whole universe, showing that it is possible to decompose the world into independently existing smallest units. This theory shows that the dynamic is in the matter in such a way that solid objects are constantly moving rasterizing relationships between different parts of a unified whole.
As we believe that matter is inherently sterile, we think the Cemetery is in the same condition, and therefore inert bodies are also just turned into a pile of bones scattered.
My conception of the world of subterranean acting aims to support the theory of Quantum, and at first glance, it seems that under these masses of cement no putrefaction and eternal solitude. Well, I do not think so, I think there is a tremendous activity, above all tends to seek fulfillment in a world of her competence, and also has the infinite grace of thanks from all lurking diseases that shake us. That is, each inhabitant of the subterranean acting receives as a Franciscan noblest worship existence, and not falter from the destructive effects of all known diseases.
Near the garden of heroes, they are the remains of those who died in this output. It was a legendary struggle for the libertarian revolution of 1821 in Greece, Messolonghi exact-mind. Markos Botsaris tomb and the statue of Lord Byron great Hellenophile found in this garden.


Once, I was looking for a book, and this trend was unavoidable East. I used to remind my teacher, the monk talking Virajánanda Given the processes of time, yesterday, today, and tomorrow; all at once was a pure unity. That physical death had to be spiritual satisfaction so that the spirit can not disconnect your disposable body. As a child, I saw my family go to leave my garden flowers home to their loved ones. But noticing that my grandparents were still alive, and then would leave, looking for ways to inhale the smell of the earth to prepare for the farewell, that someday would come from the dark beyond. It never was painful to see them go because I've always been with them. Besides always our body, which would be living in a merger with spirits vague, vague minds to not blame his interest in spirituality as a way of life, often making us climb through dark passages of ignorance.


Etréstles, the protagonist; It is staged one lineage that marks limits warriors of ancient Greece, since fighting with neighboring nations. Thus, generation after generation, he meddles in successive reincarnations that are to be transported in time to different spaces.  Its Vitabión and Regma Mother, father, and as Staktos and Esaedt, both from different eras. His company monogamous sentimental is linked by the presence of Drestnia; the woman he had to get out of her womb, better said from his rib, emulating the biblical account.

While it is noteworthy that the secondary characters are related to Greek mythology such as Eurydice, and real characters as Botsaris Markos, who was a great hero who drove the Turks. The famous Florentine sculptor and architect Lorenzo Ghiberti, is present in the action so that its image is immortalized in the eternal cemetery. Equally noteworthy is Ashurbanipal, king of Assyria (667-626 BC), the Auriga; Coachman, and the truck driver where he had his blacksmiths over time to release the Greek descent.


Other memorable as Aristotle and Hesiod Praxitle, which are knowledge to every reader of Greek literature. The judge presiding over the classroom in session from time to time, trying to relive the rituals and reject severe efforts of Lucifer, trying to have a place on earth, then God expelled him from heaven.

In the chapter of the onslaught of Lucifer, is he accompanied by his minions and Phosphoros Heosphoros; they are the ones who brought Lucifer from heaven to Messolonghi. Also appear hostile Mesopotamian demons of the world, were the Annunaki who were the guards of the dead in hell. The Etimmu were the ghosts of all those who had died unhappy. The Utukku lived in desolate places or cemeteries; they are all part of the presence in the malignancy as oppressive manner and form of presence to the exuberance of good all-encompassing.

Kanti Botsaris steed is not above his super consciousness, which leads as a link between different dimensions physical and dreamlike. It notes that Kanti is a Cretan horse and belongs to the fallen in battle, as Botsaris.

Eulalia and Zultina, both courtesans who spent their lives with Ghiberti and Botsaris.
And it could not ignore the Menopause, puerperal, and Inamorada, since they and female members alone your friend beyond earthly life that had consequences that affect the desolate silence of death camps.
And to top it, the arrival in Valplacci was with a world and an unusual man, a dimension Etréstles unknown. Then arriving at Patmos, where St. John the Theologian, to regain some of its lost soul by the intrusion of Lucifer. This achieves discover is not necessary to combat warriors who always speak of physical war, because many of them tend to succumb to the same battlefield. Discovering, so the mentoring Mind is the best ally to overcome any difficulty, wherever it is that the human race you are, or infrahuman.


Finally, Etréstles is discovered in a way that would inaugurate a new paragraph cycle to initiate a new era and a new physical space where the projection of Messolonghi would stand; nothing less than Nineveh, Ashurbanipal land where the winds blow, as a priest in his insufflation do to remove the demons that inhabit the world.
The "Zero" is the initiator of a new era, the basis of the only means available to the new life that awaits ruinous residents Messolonghi, after the invasion of Lucifer appears.

My concept of Cemeteries, they are seeking long an answer that I think I can approximate now that huge efforts are made to understand fully. The cemetery remains for me a scenario of hideousness and terror, seen from the observation point we all have of it, however, I think that in a strange world where you're not supposed to govern ethics, aesthetics, law, and the professional economic and social status; It is where more wealth is the multi stimulant vitality, "I think in any place inhabited earthly souls, will be able to find more life here in the cemetery of Messolonghi".


José Luis Carreño Troncoso.
Copyright all rights reserved

Towering over the rocky shore,
mentoring the intractable,discordant waves.
Rigid and stubborn,over which the eagles soar
"They" come here for absolution,the murderers,the soothsayers,the knaves.

Tweleve kilometers away from the tower,she watched,
living in sweet sardonic solace,in an ancestral cottage.
how "they" climbed the crumbling earth,body and soul parched,
desperate to be purged,freed from guilt-driven *******.

Ruminating over the storm swept silence,
she loathed man's dependence on belief.
Comatised, mentally enervated in its absence,
The belief commands discipline, our obedience.

Scrambling over the jagged rocks,
she climbed to the base of the dominating column,
A vulture sitting high above,looks down to mock.
the blinding circulating light,an eerie feeling she could not fathom.

Ascending the two hundred and forty eight iron spiral stairs,
as surreal force encompassed her, she instantly felt possessed, her mind awakened by last night's nightmare.
As she stood high above,adjacent to the vultures,
She acknowledged her mind grow vacous,empty , free.
There was something calming or demanding about this structure,
exterminating her inner thoughts and memories,reaching an ******* apogee.

When I walk into a place
Amidst busy people in haste
Heads turn to me I wonder why
As if they have seen a thing in awe
So I am oblige to smile and say hello

I think:
Maybe it is because I look neat and fresh
With a gentlemen haircut and shaven face
Or because of my manly aura and sharp look
Wearing rugged garb with a macho image I took

When I speak most people if not all listen
Though they are doing something in between
I raise my hand or move further they follow
I rant a phrase they also echo with pleasure
They love me each time I give them a lecture

I say:
These people must have seen something interesting
In my being that myself do not discover or forgetting
Maybe because I am cool and pleasant when spoken with
I inspire their imaginations taking the time with weight

When both men and women great me with esteem
I reciprocate to their acts with kindness as a friend
Many are receptive to the ideas I share without flattery
They ask for my opinion and request to meddle on something
To resolve their problems by giving them practical mentoring

This prove:
That I am a person of wisdom which has importance
I possess charisma that can convince with substance
My presence reassures those individuals who lost hope
My bold appeal excites the broken souls to stand and cope

When I just relax and calm in recollection
I think of the humankind and God's relation
I do not instill paradox clues about any religion
As I'm a sinner like everyone else who are mortal
I shouldn't be praised by those who think I'm moral

I confess:
I am only human and not a son or perfect father
I may have provided my family enough being a provider
Of simple things which I work hard to become upgraded
As what others have seen in me is what I am best rated

When women begin to act quite intimate with me
It is because I'm amiable and complaint as can be
I show no sign of abuse of their frailties but respect
I'm open to their innate expressions about love and men
To prove that I am not bias or against all sorts of women

In my heart:
Like all men I have a mother, sisters, wife and daughter
Females to whom I have to give respect, love, care with laughter
Also for whom I work hard to provide their all basic mundane needs
Thus, I want them to feel secure and happy by giving them good deeds

When some families gather together inviting me as guest
I heartily join them in their merriment with myself at its' best
With poems I give to them as complimentary act of my gratitude
Sharing them some sentiments about on what family should be like
Or innate expressions of love for others as legacy I want them to excite

In retrospect:
I have had some detailed episodes about a family life
I experienced it as a son and father both good and strife
In having to cope with the burden i raising a big household
That being a son and father I have innate duties to act bold

When at work with different kind of associates to deal
I am focus on my duties and react to colleagues quite real
They come to confer or ask to assist them finish their work
With all humility I conform to their requests with compliance
I believe harmony should prevail in a workplace to keep balance

I uphold:
I can generate cooperation by initiating support
I can be of significance by showing a good effort
I shouldn't complain if I don't like to be detested
I should mind my own business if I am not requested

When troublemakers come to confront me face to face
I hold my sanity and act accordingly without malice
I stand to reason with them on basis of truthfulness
To stop, look and listen then argue to reach a verdict
Hitches can't be solve if none settles the conflict

I insist:
Any battle can be won if willing to set an open argument
Existence with harmony is the essence of our earthly event
Why set fire if one can talk it out expressing sentiments
Pray and ask God's mercy and forgiveness than just laments


When acquaintances visit me with encouraging words on my bed
In moments when I am sick or sort of disheartened they do heed
They all wish me fast recovery and good well to come on my way
Maybe they have recalled I too have empathized for them somehow
In times of trouble that they have experienced in the past I vow

I understand:
Because these people may have thought I deserve attention
To reciprocate what I have done when they too need affection
As human I also understand the sentiments of the ordinary people
I undergone some burdens in my life but surmount those I hurdle


When my parents and children solicit adoration
I can't refuse to do my best to give consideration
Just like any good son and father I should do my part
They are my inspiration and reason why I desire to live
Longer than my lifespan that my love for them I can give

To my mind:
I owe my life to my parents for their sacrifices and affection
I want this legacy to pass on to my offspring as an inspiration
That when I am done they shall inherit the willingness to do well
In all aspects of mentoring their own families with innate goodwill

When friends and enemies gather for my own sake
To extend heartfelt condolences for my family on my wake
I can't count how many have sincere conscience being there
To console my family feeling lost of my presence with them
I can only wish that none shall be glad that I reach my end

I am thankful:
To have bold six children who are quite independent
A wife having a strong character for me is a complement
Surely I have shown them how to tackle all the life's tasks
To equip them with character to survive as courageous casts

Not one to give advice but willing to help others.
Coaching has taught to lead a team
Mentoring peers to helping them excel
Giving pointers on writing many talents
The best way to master is teach
Multiple repetitions an practice
Skills aren't natural they are learned

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She was so little
Yet so much as oppression could be
Discovered in her ribs
Pressing ******* the heart
Revealing spark of distress
captured in the beams that cause happiness yet discontent.
Mentoring her own soul
The deep thoughts she wasn't able to bowl
The words that would neither roll
The body kept inside of 4 walls
Angry Phone calls
that came crawling in through her veins
Pleading dismissal
Knocking on the bruises that remain
It still rains
Thundering tears that remain
Unseen.....Unspoken
yet  sensored through damaged parades
She grew up hating herself better than anyone else
Connecting each thought with an elixir
Of confusion
Haunted her own mind better than the demons that lifted off the shelves
Reaching deep into her body
Fracturing the foundations
Remaining each fragment
Shattering the blizzard of joy and
Draining all its impetus
Only as figments of its magination
Her actions that coincide with the alchemist's heartless box of incarceration
but a souless body is one with no purpose

What was her life if she had no control?

I personally don't believe you have to change fully, but it's not about that, living this life is about changing or adjusting aspects of ourselves to fit the needs and desires of who we choose to be, and to continuously make ourselves better through creating who we can be.

You are doing it and you know I have faith in you. I appreciate that you have helped me realize certain attitudes I have had as well. I have become less afraid to speak your mind. What is meant to be must flow.

Bonds develop differently between people depending on their past life.
But they are malleable and they are shifting.

When we see racism...
be BIGGER
stand up to the bully
When we witness crime...
be BIGGER
be that snitch and level justice
When we see hunger...
be BIGGER
feed a soul that is in need
When another needs help...
be BIGGER
give what you can in aid
When a child need mentoring...
be BIGGER
give of your knowledge
When your mate needs compassion...
be BIGGER
be silent and give love.

The rhythm of life so fast, the beat so contagious.
The harmony wonderfully ear-pleasing, the note on one accord.

The waves of life turbulent, the motion so changing.
The ride a beautiful crashing sight, the current a fierce pull.

The color of life so varied, the lens so resolute.
The shade magically mobile, the hue slightly wavering.

The heartbeat of life so steady, the lungs so pink and full.
The brain magnificently retaining all, the body fully functioning.

The possibilities of life so many, the opportunities so endless.
The experiences psychologically mentoring, the stages slowly passing fast.

The pen of life so permanent, the pages so stained.
The story so irreversibly absolute, the book a never ending continuation.

The reality of life so hazy, the consciousness so unforgetting.
The love so heartwarmingly touching, my existence fleeting.

And when dust returns to dust, I  pray that I am remembered.

I should warn you right now
That you probably should go
There are secrets about me that you will never know

I'm not a girl to love
Because my love doesn't last
I fall so deeply in love so quickly
And fall out just as fast

These secrets are everything to do with it
And they have complete control
So don't ask me to let you in
Because they force me to say no

These secrets are demons
Who tricked their way in
They turned my pure and innocent heart
Into darkness and sin

This numbness is the best friend
That I never asked for
The one that I never realized
I bargained for

In exchange for the pain
That I felt every day
The numbness came in and asked if he could take it away

There were no terms or conditions
In exchange for relief
Just pure satisfaction
That I was no longer weak

But as time passed on
I realized what he had done
Not only did he suppress my pain
But he also stole my love

The ability to love so deeply
That pain could break me
At times I have thanked him
But more often I feel lonely

I fell in love with you
I've never had love so pure
Why my best friend, this darkness
Let it happen, I'm not sure

He's never been one to share
So I'm worried about what he'll do
That's why I'm scared to let you in,
Because he never makes room for two

I think I gave him my soul..
And he ate it with a smile
As he kindly burned the pain away
And swept the ashes into a pile

He showed me how to live without love
Sometimes I feel like I owe him
For mentoring me as I grew up
I used to be thankful to have him

I realize now that I messed up
And I made a mistake
I can't be happy without your love
And I can't have love without pain

I shouldn't have let him take over
My soul became nearly black
I can survive on your love
So I'm accepting all of the pain back

Your love is strong enough
To carry my dark and regretful past
I trust you with my life and my heart
I believe that we could last.

Finding Peace

My heart is restless Lord I am searching
For joy when I should be looking for
Peace. I should be asking more of you and saying less of me. I know you have me here right now and it’s where I’m supposed to be. I don’t know how to try and I feel like I’m doing this only as a last resort. I want joy, but it’s peace that I need. I find peace when I am here in adoration and the grace that I receive. It’s hard to let go of trying to find joy, because I love joy and you have given me a joyful heart. Remind me not to love joy more than I ought to love you. Let Your Will be done Lord in and through me. Allow me to speak love and life into all I encounter and may the work be fulfilling. Perhaps I already have the answer in front of me even now. I am at peace when I am with you. If I am with you, I will know peace and there is so much good I can do as a priest. Poetry and prayers, mentoring, connecting with all people especially our young people, being a councilor and confidant and all these things give me joy. Maybe being a priest isn’t where I want to be, but maybe being a priest is where I need to be for me, for you, and for others. Please Lord, help me to discern ever more this big decision and I pray that wherever I go and whatever I do, I may find or be led to a place of peace. Help me find joy in all the things I have peace with and may i never lose the joy and the childlike faith and love that you have given me. Amen.

They sit in the humblest of frames,
Faux wood-grained plastic grotesqueries
Purchased long ago from some doomed Grants or Bradlees,
Though one or two enjoy something nicer,
Left behind by some long-timer taking a buyout
Or a sympathetic youngster denied tenure
(She has, for the better part of three decades,
Cleaned up the detritus of middle-school children,
A bit stooped from the work,
Not to mention the burden
Of any number of she’s just  or she’s only
Tossed like so much bric-a-brac in her direction.)
The approximations of old masters equally eclectic in origin:
One or two gallery-quality reproductions
Blithely abandoned by some haughty faculty matron
Mentoring children through noblesse oblige,
The odd promotional piece from a scholastic publisher,
Mostly things she has cut from magazines or discarded texts.
She studiously avoids pieces tending to the dark or muted,
No Stuart portraiture or pensive Vermeers;
She has a strong predilection for bold, boisterous Gaugins,
Mad cubist Picassos, lush Cezanne still-lifes,
Even the odd blocky *******.
If you pressed her to explain her fetish
For the brightest of the great masters,
She would likely be at a loss to explain,
Having no academic bent for such things
(Though she has been known to curse the shortcomings
Of lithographers and pressmen under her breath)
And, as she freely admits, I’m not much good with words.
There would be the uncharitable suggestion
That their purpose is to mask cracks and pockmarks in her walls
(She has, to be sure, lived in a long series of such places)
But she has never, consciously or otherwise,
Used them for such pedestrian and utilitarian purposes;
They are, to her anyway, beautiful, and that is all they need be.

That morning mentoring – to me,
Once upon a time- when I’m your son,
Was just a baby schooling,
For now, I thank you,
In today and its fruition,
Whether it’s just suspect
Or manifests at all,
Without my asking,
There is welcome on the door,
On faces, feet, rugs, walls and curtains,
Which speak about dwellings of bodies.
Yet at Horn-Bill Hill nearby, still pretentious teeth
**** chins that die of pain, fret of sense-vity,
Even Deers of South Hill village,
Compete with this gem,
Will those two find an escape route?
With an array of A.W.O.L’s for you,
So many meanings and beamings M.I.A,
But the irony is here,
In the Centre of this mammoth city,
Where I found reality,
At least I saw you.

There but for the grace of God go I.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There but for the grace of God go I.
Having reached the age of six n seventy
Eagles of the sea have taught me to fly
Rich rewards await if you reach a land o plenty
Expectations under wraps but you have to try

By loving and giving the passport to nobility
Unless you keep a faith you’ll never know why
There but for the grace of God go I

Fortune favours t’ brave my Daddy w’ so wise.
On those winter nights he reads to my delight
Rubicon of literary giants was my prize.

The works o’ Rudyard Kipling kept a boy alive
Hidden hero’s mentoring a child with a desire
Every Sunday church attend all were s’advised

Granted there but for the grace of God go I
Running clear of all the gangs Im traumatised
Atheists n sinners ridiculed looking in my eyes
Call yourself a Christian ?Well we are amazed
Even with such provocative faith held for years

On life threatening occasions it never wavered
Faith holds the key as friends fail to survive

Gladly ,there but for the grace of God go I
Oh grant me that grace to be of your PA
Diligence and devotion t’ serve you all my days

God channeled me my words for love of man
Only wish to perpetuate the joy of poetry.

In an age.When fake news is everywhere .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
November 10th 2018.

When days are becoming colder
when nights are getting longer
when enemies are becoming bolder
when to lean on there's no shoulder
I still continue with all my might

when every breath is of despair
when life is not at all fair
when no one **** cares
When it is all too much to bear
I still have an urge to fight

when darkness is battering
when sorrows are centering
when evil is mentoring
when dreams are shattering
I still want to make things right

for I see the side that is bright
for I never lose  my sight
everything will be allright
for I still see light

Mothers are always there
For they are gentle hearts that are sincere
Mentoring you with life's lessons
Along with guidance and protection
Encouraging you to give it your all
So you can stand up tall
Monitoring results at everything you do
They want the best for you

Between the ones who have perished...May your weary souls rest in peace
To the ones still living...continue your race to become Illuminated and be clothed with Holiness...be peacemakers, be meek and humble, Don't judge your peers nor the ones mentoring you
Live and Learn, Enjoy Life to the Fullest, Don't listen to the rehearsed television programs...News or Mass Media Productions constantly being thrown at our heads by the Media Giants
THEY LYING TO YOU!!!
Do your research and learn about what it's truly going on in the World but what is NOT seen with  your mortal eyes awaken your spiritual eyes, check your energy signals your sending to others in inaudible, unwatchable, untestable, undeniable, undermining the masses by The Control Of THE WHOLE WORLD by constantly transforming yourself into an Angel Of Light...How Dare you violate and deceive the Entire Planet under your constant intrusion and invasion of the carnal beings known as "Humans" and slowly turn them into your pawns and then even more deadly slowly but surely killing them OH so softly...so smoothly, placing your snares and hexes, tempting humanity with your disobedient insolent and seductive indulgences that are being presented to US daily everyone running around the world worried about PETTY ****!!!
Wake up worry about your SALVATION you and everyone who says...God won't see...for all your works and all your toils here on Earth are MERE small repetitive trials that we face the powers of a World within this World the World of the Unseen the Spiritual World...Be Observant nearly everyone in this entire planet has heard about the "WORD OF GOD...the Gospel Of The Living Word Of God...THE HOLY BOOK...which if you look carefully and follow the Blueprint Of The Spiritual World...with Your Spiritual Eyes Observe this Evil & Monstrous  Size Of The Vast Immense Darkness we are facing TODAY!!! Wake your *** UP Ladies and Gentleman...Soon Religions will slowly merge between each other concluding each strong point of the Book Of Sanctification has long ago ordained to become our encompassing reality. Sadly, Every event here on Earth is being slowly staged to glorify the Flesh and The World and Leave God out of everyone's lives...Hence they love to point their fingers and grab each other by their throats saying I hold The Complete Truth to ALL of YOUR problems and ailments Carnal, Spiritual and Beyond. Oh You Brood Of Vipers Clothed in Sheep Clothing confusing and causing dissonance between The Carnal & Spiritual working with many people to continue to contribute to desensitizing human beings slowly with indoctrination and control of the majority of people that are Spiritually Asleep still....Living and Breathing people who are Alive and Thriving Materialistically who seem to others as Good and have NO Intentions of planting the seeds of Corruption, Self Loathe, Self Destruction and Perdition towards others yet...Deep inside this is exactly how they LOVE to masquerade  themselves and "Call GOOD...EVIL...AND EVIL...GOOD" beware among ye those are the False Teachers and False Prophets that have come to deceive in the end of times ..but yet I know I speak no blasphemy when I say my words here in this piece of my heart and me speaking from deep within the confines of my inner being conversing to the reader in ways other than the ordinary or mundane I speak eloquently about the extraordinary the surreal the imaginary or spiritual experience that comes along with every passing thought every passing action every practice that we are doing either in the light or in the dark just know NOTHING is hidden from GOD...who reads our hearts and signs our souls who is the author of everlasting life and salvation who had to pay with his precious and perfect, holy, righteous, meek and humble, becoming The Embodiment Of Every Human Male or Female...Here today or yesterday or 2000 years ago...or the Generations to Come...We must know he came to Earth to be Subservient to The Heavenly Father's Will and TOTAL submission of his own Life to save the Lives Of ALL HUMAN BEINGS. In the Cross He Bleed To DEATH till the Reaper took the Prince Of Peace To Hell for 3 days and 3 nights to roam around that hellish place we call hell...Yet Was Resurrected First Among the Dead To be In the Right Side Of The Heavenly Father FOREVER. Amen