People write down New Year resolutions in a variety of categories like health, happiness, family and so on. I think beauty deserves a spot on that list too.

It’s my job to be beauty obsessed and I love it, but there are always areas of improvement for me, and maybe for you too. I think there are a few things we all need to do more of this new year. Some of them are things that you have heard me say over and over again (and yes, i’m not going to stop), and some you’re hearing for the first time.

But a new year should bring ideas, practices and habits that will make you who you want to be. Here are my (and some of your) New Year beauty resolutions for 2016.

1. Wear Sunscreen Every Single Day

I’m pretty good with this because I never leave my house without sunscreen on my face.

I use it underneath my makeup and then use my primer on top. I’m great with applying SPF on my face and all over, especially if I plan to spend long hours under the sun. But one thing I know needs improvement is being more aware of my neck, chest, hands and other areas that one might forget.

If this resolution needs to be on your list, I would suggest you apply sunscreen all year round. It is also important to add an extra coat of sunscreen on your hands when getting a gel manicure because of the UV lights often used to dry the nails.

2. Washing My Makeup Brushes

Speaking of brushes, I’ll like to mention their somewhat high maintenance nature. If you don’t wash your brushes regularly, not only are you leaving them open to bacteria, which leads to possibly breakouts, it also means that your brushes won’t pick up pigment and work as well as it should. I know, washing your brushes seems like an huge task, but if you use a brush cleaner, it is much easier and faster.

Personally, I’m going to set aside a specific time – Sunday afternoon at 2PM to do this chore every week. This will give my brushes enough time to dry properly before the start of the week. To help you remember every week, you can set a reminder on your phone.

3. Being More Adventurous with Makeup (and hairstyles)

It’s so easy to get into a makeup routine, but people like MakeupShyla do a great job of switching it up. Celebs on Instagram are a great inspiration for trying new things, gold eye shadow, bold red lips and more. Amrezy always mixes it up; glossy lips, matte, dark lips, Coloured eyeliner she isn’t afraid to try it out.

And why should she be? It’s makeup she can wash it off! We should all be more out there with out makeup looks and try out new looks. Bold red lips, more shimmer, cut crease eyeshadow – the beauty world is your oyster.

4. Book in for Regular Facials

Looking after your skin is a bit like looking after your teeth. While you may brush and floss regularly, you still need to see the dentist for a deep clean and check up.

I have a fantastic ****** routine and really good products I use on my skin, and even though this might seem enough, it just isn’t. I know that times are tough in this economy and it’s undeniably smart to cut back on extraneous purchases. However, here is my opinion on why a monthly ****** is a good investment.

Your skin is always on display and often has the power to dictate how good we feel about ourselves. Investing in proper skincare has a value that can be arguably more important than buying a new dress or going out to a fancy restaurant or even taking an expensive vacation (a ****** is a mini-vacation).

A ****** will cleanse the pores on a much deeper level, extractions/cleaning out the pores can help to maintain clear skin, stop acne formation, as well as help to change the pore’s size. Often times left unchecked, pores can start to stretch and widen with the accumulation of oil and dirt. So I have decided to get a ****** monthly, and I think it wouldn’t hurt if you did too.

5. Using Hair and Skin Masks

Hair and skin masks are fun to use and make a huge difference for soft, shiny hair and clear skin. I really love the dead sea mud mask from Pure Body Naturals at the moment. I love the way my skin feels after I use it – it’s simply amazing.

And I also love the Cantu hair masque – it leaves my hair moisturized and soft. I think I would use this once a month going forward, and also apply a facemask once a week at a time that’s perfect for me.

6. Take Care of My Natural Nails

As ridiculous as it sounds, a manicure is one of the first things people will notice about your appearance, especially if you work in an office.

For a while I have been using nail extensions and acrylics. While it looks beautiful, it also makes my nails underneath very soft. I would like to take a break from nail extensions and grow my own nails. Strong, long and healthy! This is also something you can adopt, your nails need the TLC.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-brisbane

You rode an airplane horse
Like Joan of Arc and her hope
With Princess Julia and Prince Justin,
Flew away from our bleak archipelago,
Across this continent of the smooth-skinned
To meet the King, your love,
For a quest to raise again our royal family,
And brought rain to Dubai.
You have rained on Dubai;
Brought the ocean to their deserts,
Watered their artificial plants,
Glistened their rough highways,
Bathed the Arabs,
Moisturized their dry skin,
And taught them to dance in the puddles.
You have rained on Dubai,
And took with you my Philippine sun.
Now I sit here in my desk;
A withered bud in the Land of the Orient Pearl,
Staring at this snow globe you left
With glitter orbiting the Burj Al Arab,
Watching over you from this crystal ball,
Waiting for you to leave the Gulf States,
And bring the rain back here.

Picked freshly from the
garden of my newfangled
burning infatuation for you,
a fine blanket of lettuce,
to suit my modest request
This evening holds meaning,
accented with wine of white
over candlelight,
delicious Italian dining tonight
You do me well,
you know you do

Scorching days
turn to chilly nights
We are but two spoons,
failing to convect heat
to warm each other’s souls
and hands, which I kept
moisturized, for us;
scented fingers of vanilla
caress uniquely speckled skin
Genuine fascination
in everything
that is
*you

They didn’t like my naked body.
My roughed up, pale skin
My nestled dark hair on the sides of my armskins
My tiny ******* peeking, cusp of womanhood

“The naked body isn’t natural, you’ve misunderstood.”

Oh okay, so today I’ll put on my miniskirt.

“You clearly hold no respect for yourself and are conforming to these Hollywood standards that a woman must look like a ****. How un-feminist of yourself.”

Oh, then today I’ll put on a dress.

“What are you doing? Conforming to patriarchy? To this idea that you must be the epitome of innocence and revel in this idea a girl must be a silly fool?”

Fine, today I’Il put on a T-Shirt.

“Goodness! No sense of style! No sense of class! No sense of taste! As a woman, you should be trying to look the part of one that is polished!”

What a ******* mess.
FINE! Maybe I should wear a nun’s dress!

“Oh no, today that’s suggestive, a costume for Halloween,”

Waxed
Shaved
Scrubbed
Plucked
Trimmed
Moisturized
Se­xualized
Materialized
Labelled
Packaged
Stored
Selling
Sold

You, girl, surely are no standard lip balm.

Uncapping joy – the end not often reached.

What that was said about kissing girls with cherry chaptstick:
It is surely truer than is a smile being contagious.

Yonder eyes, oh, my greatest of demise.

With you gone,
I am without life’s swan.

Of wavering size, warm, and safely claimed in my pocket.

Steadfast and moisturized, you bring life through the cold.

I have been branded, and rightfully so.

Her son was asleep
She was relaxed now
As she stepped out the shower
Her dripping body
Her brown skin
Naked, she looked as beautiful as a flower
Sweet as brown sugar
They called her
She thought that was so corny
She moisturized her long legs
Which made men oh so *****
When she thought about it
As she moved up her body
Her son stirred
Her hands were on her *******
She softly cursed
Her ******* were like soft ebony basketballs
She admired them
No wonder she got so many catcalls
And those buns
Those buns
Those sweet firm cinnamon buns
They speak for themselves
They’re the perfect balance
She looked in the bathroom mirror
And looked back at it
And touched it
In silence
Soon that silence was no more
Her son wasn’t asleep anymore
She had to cut short her body admiration
Due to her dedication
To her son
They called her Brown Sugar
She knows why
Now all her Brown Sugar is devoted...
For her son.

Everything was dreary
...And bleak.
And my skin happened to look red and splotchy.
All I had wanted
Was to binge on coco flavanols and overdose on caffeine.
I hadn't moisturized my skin after my shower, or put cover up on while it was still moist and warm. My veneer had not been established.
I told myself it didn't matter..
But really this issue was the cultivation
The turning point of my day.

Then I put my face on.
The grey, somber mask turned to Lovely, Feminine Pink.
As I spread the beige cream across my complexion, I felt something shift; insidious.
I felt the ******* I had been enslaved to.
I had been the one
With no friends and no sellouts to lug around with the rest of her baggage.
I had been the one
Who gawked and sneered
At the self-medication of the lonely girls who looked oh-so attractive
With their gleaming, hair~framed faces
And popping eyes.
What have I become?
I now claim this self selling drug
As my own.
What does it mean? What does it say about me?
Even more importantly, what does it say about you, and your stand point?
Do you put your face on, or do you let your soul bubble out of the surface of your complection?
FACE
A FACE
A million faces, pretty ones.
It's time to face the place of natural grace and replace the superficial first impression we chase.

I miss you in between life
I have been a good girl, I have not stopped living
I have fun, quite often
Have not stopped going out into the sun in the afternoon to examine my mother's petunias
And admire the bougainvillea basking under the sun
I take the dog out for the evening walk, try to love like she loves me
I accept love, I try to love back but never force myself
I am gentle with myself as I am with others
I start art projects and finish them
I start cooking elaborate things and finish them
I clean up my mess
I oil my hair, wash it every two days
Keep my skin moisturized
Drink enough water till my *** is clear
I eat fruits, I eat pomegranate
I wash my clothes and put them back on time
I take my meds on time
I don't take too much cough syrup
Don't drink iced coke on cold days
I am gentle with myself as I am with others
I try to neither be afraid of time running out nor having to wait forever
I do not stay up too late on the internet
Wake up early enough to have breakfast and still have room for lunch
I have fun
I go for movies, take photos everywhere, talk to my sister, talk to my friends, talk to the neighbors, say hello to every dog I pass, try to identify every bird I see,
I am living well
But the catch is, I'd rather be doing all of this with you

This morning I slept in an extra hour,
I made a large *** of coffee,
and took a long shower.
Rubbed oil on my split knuckles.

I shaved, and moisturized,
I combed, and gave myself a haircut.
I made a smoothie, blended with peanut butter.

Looking myself in the eyes,
one of them black.
Wrapped bandages around my knuckles,
counted my bruises, 14.


Last night was wild,
the bar wouldn't serve me,
but I stayed for the fight.

A group of nazis in the corner,
yelling at a Moslim,
me and three others,
invited them outside.

It wasn't a good fight,
although it were fair.
Skinny **** punks,    vs
me and three Cowboys.

I think I broke a knuckle on my right hand,
I know I broke a nose, but not mine,
I know I broke a finger, but not mine.
**** punks watch out,
Denver Antifascist Action is growing,
and we're not sleeping

Eyes huddled in fear,

That paralyzing fear  in front of bullets mercilessly sprayed,

Deep sprayed by the cruelty, which  must be fed

With victims,

Those defenseless victims of hate,

That dreadful hate ,which  is fed  with love  

As well as

Pleasure is fed with pain,

That extreme pain ,which embellishes the madness,

That round madness like a cold moisturized rosy-red,

A rosy-red ring-shaped patches and giant  Quincke swelling

And a boisterous cooling noisy  breathing,

Snorting breath like groaning a song ,

A love song for the dance of death,

A painful death for the warm puppets,

Beautiful puppets becoming cold wax mannequins,

Bleak mannequins  screaming in their red rain

Of feelings,


Red feelings coloring their sad moments,

Cool moments  of winter fires

In caves of shadows.

Love me tender
Love me sweet......

My lips were dry
But you moisturized them
With your kisses.

I let my body go upside down
Only because I was in your arms
So there was no falling.
But perhaps I am falling.

Perhaps I'm dragging you with me.
But is that so bad.

Our legs go perfectly intertwined
My ***** sits well in your concave
My breast fall gracefully on your chest.
And our minds interconnect.
I think we fit.

So continue to....

Love me tender
Love me sweet

Would he still feel comfortable
in brooks brothers felt trousers or those loafers
with golden ornamentation or with pale white
business cards being traded between moisturized

fingers. With hands clutching a cold metal
pole on the subway and swaying to coltrane
from his headphones would he still trade glances
with the woman in good humor whites with two

black babies and a clear tub of windex and fresheners
and rubber yellow gloves. Or just stand tall and straight
and rigid and lifeless and keep his eyes
on the black floors and the loafers
and the illuminated emails shining from his palm.

With a newer suit and pay raise and the snarling of his new office and the desk with his middle aged secretary, would he still treat her kindly and keep her father's cancer in mind or instead, (next month), ask for a younger blonder girl from a better school (and bigger ****),
after the man finally makes his seven figures.

World's in hesitation across the nation
No need for an explanation
Negroes still playing in the field plantation
They call it the corporation
Can't argue with fools cuz they in gestation
Of sin and wickedness look at this world
We living in skin is my sin
Can't even heal even if the remedy was to settled in
Wake up my folks and hear me clear
Don't be a slave to this game called fear
Rise up like the sunshine open ya mind
Even if it cost ya ya own life line
Just remember what I told you
We natural born soldiers made to fight
We are earth soil and ground
If ya don't believe me look around
And look how many of our ancestors
Blood moisturized the ground ?

Pepper heat moisturized to cayenne treats, quite a tale you can speaketh of when the barrel's gone your way,
Thine heart burns, and stomach churns, to fabric of hand made clay!

Exodus routes will temp the ill-hearted, the still guarded wear patches all sown on!!! Collect all thy pleasures, for you've sown all your sins....

Unjust you say? All mental, none okay? What a disturbing image of Castro like fear's!!!

Oxidations own filing cleans thy palate, pass keys to and in between bricked mortar!!!!state borders with trooper's to seize full control!!!!

What a fool we all were to be told!!!!

Waiting is far more intense than what you have been made to believe, the sky plans to decieve all who gave its futuristic view!!! Some flights are old, and some are new!!

For art thou in a trance?

Have they left thine wounds open?

Are have thou been lanced?

Are you vulnerable to groupie teams, to hustler phenes?
Who rob God's own ark.....

The 34-year-old Russian model has admitted she applies beauty products to enhance her cheekbones and jaw line when she has to attend a formal discussion to make her look "older" and "more mature".

Speaking to Elle.com about her beauty regime, the blonde beauty - who has starred in fashion campaigns for luxury designer brands including Givenchy, Prada and Calvin Klein - said: "There's no particular routine. I keep my skin clean and moisturized. A product I swear by is [Guerlain] Super Aqua Serum, so maybe this is my secret.

"It's also genetics and a healthy lifestyle. I think it's really about using the right products and looking after your skin. And putting on makeup that doesn't make your skin look like it's caked on. My two favorite products are Lingerie De Peau BB Cream, and in the winter I use Météorites Baby Glowfoundation. It smells so good. The pearl powder is what gives it this really incredible glow. The secret to applying my makeup is that I just put it where it's needed.

"Sometimes I wear just a little pencil and a bit of mascara to make my eyes stand out a little more. And maybe a bit of color on my cheeks. If I'm going to a meeting, I will contour my face to make myself look a little older. I have to look more mature."

And Natalia - who has sons Lucas, 14, Viktor, nine, Maxim, two, four-month-old Roman and 10-year-old daughter Neva with her husband Antoine Arnault - has admitted motherhood impacts on her daily routine.

The Gorky-born star explained: "Keeping up with everything I do requires some sacrifices, but once and a while I need to take some time to myself."Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/princess-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/****-formal-dresses

They come and go as they please.

There goes Summer,
Here comes Autumn.

Next is Winter,
And finally, Spring.  

Then the process starts all over again.
Oh, the beauty, the beauty of the seasons.

Spring brings life, warmth, and love.
Flowers of all colors will dot the landscape,
The grass will grow green,
The trees will bud, leaves will appear,
The bees and the birds will return,
Hope of a good life high in their little hearts.

Summer brings freedom, joy, and heat.
The grass will loose it's moisturized texture.
It will yellow over time.
But it doesn't stop there.
Fruit will ripen.
New animals will be born.
Flowers will remain in full bloom,
Until Autumn comes along.

The leaves on the trees and the grass all around,
They wither, crumble, fade away,
But that doesn't take the beauty of the day.
Lovely red, yellow, orange leaves will fall to the ground,
Creating a painting, a feeling of bliss.
One day soon, the first snow will fall,
And winter will follow soon.

Watching the beautiful snowflakes,
Each one unique,
Sipping my hot cocoa,
Feeling the warmth down to my feet.
Dancing in the snow,
Creating angels all around,
Making a new friend,
Naming him Mr. Snowman,
Enjoying days off from school,
Whether it's from snow or due to seasons,
But then it starts to warm,
And Spring is in full bloom again.

They come and go as they please.

There goes Summer,
Here comes Autumn.

Next is Winter,
And finally, Spring.  

Then the process starts all over again.
Oh, the beauty, the beauty of the seasons.
I love each one!

What seems like yesterday
has turned into years

There are days where I can still remember the clicks of your fingers touching the letters on your keyboard
Your eyes glancing up to me to see if I was staring again

In your room it was just us
The slams of lockers and chatter seemed miles away
Even when on occasions students will come in
it still felt like just us

I remember your eyes
Blue like the color of my backpack

I remember your hands
the roughness of them when they touched mine
I always thought you never moisturized
You should.

Sick with it
Spun and done
Get on with your negative nature
Spew insults after being kind
Swallowing others’ egos
Creature posing as a man
needs to work on posing stance
Deceit seeps through pores
glorified saying you’re moisturized
Burn you down eyes gouge out
Realize that fake are made of plastic
Puddle of a little man, where’s your ego now?

~kb

I washed my hands
but like waking frantic from a dream
I stopped,
and observed the knuckles.
They were so smooth.
The skin was even, white, and moisturized.
The sound of water splashing porcelain seemed so quiet,
and the soap... it was just soap.
The water did not thunder in my ears and linger hours after,
The soap did not feel like acid on my skin,
each pump no longer a breathless affliction,
and my skin was not red,
it was not violently cracked and scraped and bleeding and stinging my hands were not these raw bones that split apart with gritted teeth at my every movement.
And like falling back asleep I went into a daze,
curious how one could forget such a thing,
but on further concentration it did seem so long ago,
when the tear filled affliction plagued every moment,
my teenage life filled with
washing my hands washing my hands washing my hands
but now
I could not remember how many times I left class to clean them until I forced myself from the sink.
Perhaps my hands are clean, finally, perhaps they are washed of what I desperately tried to purge them of.
Or perhaps I remember now, because they have once again begun to feel unclean.
so curious.
how long ago that seems,
how long ago indeed.

Our twin eyes peered blankly into a plug store that was Joan Rivers
of 81 spinal years on blown vinyl chairs & oak-knotted bone slivers
that scratch the front of her **** like cameras beaten by drone livers
with relish, reliant on the fairest blessings of toe-errant crone givers
crushed by avalanche & made salt-mine deaf by rod & cone shivers
Joan moisturized new plastical scar slits with needled sewn quivers
just like big boys do; like the toady of Mr. Burns, Waylon Smithers
durin' break, shakily swooning to a crooning of a Marvin Gaye tune
after Marvin junior was shot by Marvin senior who was a luny loon
Bein' married to you is better than pluggin' drains too big to expand
the number of turbo jet flights to affable Disappointment City Land
near a region-4 F.E.M.A. death camp where all parsnips are canned
'cause prisoners demandin' fresh parsnips are going to get beheaded

I baptized myself  
In the shower this morning

It sure didn’t help any though

I’m not
Repenting my sins
And I’m
Still too stubborn to ask for forgiveness

It’s like I moisturized myself
With gasoline
And ran into a fire

old faces.

new experiences?



I was expecting

when I

moisturized the soil

when I

shined upon it light

and planted

the seed....



I was ready.

It didn't grow.

But I'll give it time.

For I know it

takes it

(Even though I can't

stand it)



So I'll just wait.

I have patience.



I'm still waiting.

Southampton vs Leeds
today at Wembley

yesterday the whole of
Manchester came
to London (also Wembley):

there's something infuriating
about the spirit of the north
especially in England
some old tale of Vikings

because the north like
the north Norway and Finland
is: well
the Polacks had a long ago
allegiance with the Norsemen

but the spirit of the north
in England
that land between London
and Scotland
because i don't think
i can relate to the spirit of the dragon
of the west of Bristol

no: much different
but in the same vein:
i think i should travel for a weekend
trip to Manchester
or Newcastle
or even perhaps Leeds

but i'd need to own a car for that
and not use trains
get out
experience a driving holiday
across England
and write...
i think i need a writer's holiday
unlike what could never
have been promised on Kauai
in terms of writing
and growing:

i think i need to grow intellectually
and for that i need alone time
perhaps i will not philosophy
maxims or aphorisms because
i find that when writing
wisdom is cheap because not actually lived
counter to the wisdom invoked
none of it is ascribed to a life

only from word of mouth
sorry therefore
but from word of mouth i find the accounts
of Socrates more involving, inviting,
sensibly middle Buddhist path...

but i don't even have a driving license...
that's plan B
so plan A is to travel to Poland
and get a driving license
and from there look in on Martin
in the care home now
walking
but obviously the mind regardless: fried
scrambled or i best
like to think an omelette...

there's this favorite Indian place of mine
just in the shadow of Wembley
with great great Samosa
vegetarian
something i see too much meat
i want to try some ape-thinking
or rather

     koala in an eucalyptus tree
like some birch standing upside down
but no
the forest shifts to bamboos
and a panda
this forest this river this sea of people:
the people: regardless of the social
construct of sobering democracy
rather than the drunken ripple into time
en masse
like circling around the Kaaba
in Mecca
or circling around the Pitch (Pi)
or Wembley in London...

sporting events replaced the failed
christianity in Europe
the failed christianity in Europe:
which is not to say that
Christianity isn't thriving in Africa
Asia
South America is the New Europe
of Christianity
and pockets of insanity in the North
of the Americas...

but Europe isn't dead: it simply turned
covert...
there is a narrative i need to be part of
and this cannot invite an Edie
and a Reyla when i am of the "class" of people
that need to hear people
speak
and i need to listen and watch and record
but unlike journalism
poetry is a question to the butcher:
would you butcher a meat twice
by overcooking it?
beef is safe
but dare to under-cook chicken? no...
would rather eat raw fish
than under-cooked chicken...
TEXTURE...
a problem with texture regardless of those
allergic to peanuts
and all the microcosms of what if Darwinian
laws were in place
not nature's as ontological specific to man
but rather as Darwinian laws
of appropriating the stasis ontologies
of animals
to the singleton humanoid-hood of mankind

Darwinism is an Ontological Disney-Magic-Place
then some recoil back
to basics of: morality as prejudice...
not as something crippling
but as a prejudice of character...

one shift we were singing Champagne Supernova
then i got high
when i was alone at home
and listening to headphones
i'll still drink in public
but alone
at Marleboune...

a new lease on life...
took a different route than my usual
using the stop ahead
of the crowd
going back to Preston Road
on the Metropolitan Line
then ahead to Liverpool St
and perhaps chance the express Greater Anglia
two stops to Romford
otherwise speeding to Shenfield
and then onto Southend

Diamond Boy Diamond Boy said this one
Leeds fan...
another promised me to jug jug down a pint
of beer
before me and then kissed my clenched
fist with a wet kiss of charcoal ego of the sun

now  i feel the love of humanity
like it's a welcome burden
it truly can be i can allow myself to differentiate
the good from the bad
only today i passed a man
lying with head exposed on the pavement
outside Romford station
to later come home
and find him sitting in decent clothing
and temporarily homeless
because clearly he broke someone's heart
and not all rough sleeping
is a horror but the same sun and same
moon in the sky
and by so transient and glass like
to the everyday mirror be behold
those homeless men peering at themselves
in glass
to those homed and baron with silver spoon born
looking at themselves
in mirror
and even in the future now of the photograph
and movie and what used to be the arena
of the artist's self-portrait...

                   more in the idea of riding
my first worm of steel
if any myth the metal worms of the geology
of a planet equivalent to a desert sea...
yet in the ultra cold
less the fiction of Dune and more the Reality-Mars...

but the original plan is to travel
to Poland to get a driving license...
then probably buying a cheap car
and travelling alone across Europe...
that's more realistic
than anything concerning Edie as far as i am concerned
that is finished...

i saw Warren send heartheartheartheart
emojis...
out *** has returned to quick(s) and quirps
and talking points
we still have talking points of wonder
and bewilderment
but i know: those several days have been long
and thorough on the observant i

Mary Le Bon! that's it!
i found her...
                 she was hiding in my favorite places
of London
less a trainspotter but but but
more an aesthetic appreciator
notably when it comes to the London Underground
but more so
i wondered there are poems plastered across
the worms
and people get bored and sometimes even read
or rather start to write not having
read enough to bury gems among rocks...
better still
the aesthetic of the Bakerloo Line
a living museum in transit...
please do not update the Bakerloo Line
petition.... 1st signature: X
please do not update the Barkerloo Line
the Jeckyll and Hyde Station that is Baker Street
while sorry:
Sherlock Holmes will have to move
in with Shakespeare's Shylock somewhere
on Bond Street...
to give us James, King and Country...

                         but Mary Le Bon station is just
another weird ******* beautiful
ginger cat story
especially after having your hands kissed

but a holiday like that
to live a life my uncle should have lived
but instead didn't
probably he didn't love just yet
a woman who could perform both
******* and absolute freedom all at once
by every ounce of one more once
and how this memory and her as memory
will mold me i don't know
but if i'm not seeing women differently
then i don't understand why women are
looking at me differently...

i do wonder: the CCTV rat network
and couple in the cult of the soap opera...
well: mismatched with a football sulk hug-out
of a ghoul: pelican -
if i can't solve be-done crossword
puzzle i think i just wrote
a question:

football sulk hug-out
of a ghoul: pelican -

          i.e. a hooligan:

   ave maria ave maria
now i want to understand christianity but only via christ
or perhaps
socrates' life through his ****** sons?
and the younger argumentative seller of **** potions
of a wife?
well:
perhaps islam can be understood through Maria...
just saying:
lost - no annals of children of christ
although i'll admit: i'd like to see a book made up
of little words and little nouns
with no names of people and no history...

              for the aesthetic...

but a holiday for myself...
getting a license and exploring further further
that only oar and boat could
but couldn't solve on Kauai
and no Polynesian dream then
but such good ****... it wasn't about the ****
although that was a learning curve
away from the brothel...
a ******* was nothing like having ***
with this woman,
this fruit of carnage from apple juice
to cider of 55 springs moisturized...
into a glowing Aladdin's rub rub rub rub rub
*** up blind
hurt
definitely hurt

definitely a life ahead of me
still talking to parents
about relationships
and opera
and they seemingly know i'm planning
a solo trip and
this trip alone
no i'm not going back to Ilona
come on
some new treaty of not from Versailles
but adventures with cats
the two gingers will gang up
on that brutal thung
who is ****** himself into a spirit
of the culled pets
who have not been given the snip
yes
pets
pets can be given special treatment
as pets
as petted-animals
only if there is the imposed cruelty
of castration
leaving the best genes in a harem pool
which doesn't translate into humanity
employing this already human maniability
of: cats and dogs replaced
angels and demons
because they could become more real

i have a life here too
i don't mean
a girl wants to live in London type of life
whereby i meet my dad for
a football match and we patch up
on our commute but ****'s going
wrong and the conversation drops off
as: we can't relate
by the glass wall of people gorging
on burgers at the Five Guy's of Baker Street:
genius marketing think-tank of solo-tank
periodical that ought to be
written about:
because saved up so much on adverts....
just glass and people eating
best "anti-AI" advert
because it's also a real place... ha ha...

                   yes....
on Kauai i'd experience true schizophrenia:
premature dementia...
what i experienced as god
in my 20s early beginning at 21
was probably me readying myself to the future
that would encompass me aged
38
her being 56
me fulfilling all my wanking
******* watching fancies and fetishes
oh god this was anti-Oedipal
seriously she looks nothing like my mother
oh my god
she was like
a breach of justice for me being attracted
to black and asian girls...
Sudanese though... now you have me curious...

concerning Ilona but there was
not real breakdown because of her
no... even when i remember it now
she was a ghost
i was 21 and my peers were seriously afraid:
this has nothing to do with Edie
we live several lives apart
i mean she throws away Depeche Mode vinyls
while i collect them
and now
i think i'm so calm and the breakup was
so amicable in my mind
that i know that i want something more
and this argument is not based on who used who
or who gained what
we gained and lost some time...
that's it...
we gained and lost some time...
could i would i should i...
first two yes
but on count of three?         no... *****: me just a man-child:
no sorry mate...

       ha ha: sorry mate...
middle aged women still desperate
are only allowed Harry Styles...
last time i heard the butch-*****-slap was single:
a name a persona
i know his tenderness does not speak
FREAK PR HERNANDEZ gaPPa...

i experienced something with Promis...
of the three names:
Promis, Ilona, Edie..
these are my free...
what? how many i ****** like the ****
actually meant a hug?
do i want, to?
don't think so...
but if i'm 3D and i'm currently 38
and i have no ring on my finger
and i'm still to have a driving license
because i preferred
horses and bicycles
to traffic jams and M25 songs by Chris Rea
and Grandma
and the sexuality of pedophiles as
as i die he will **** you
and **** Reylah
then yeah
you have, dear Edie... dementia on your side
and brain-freeze on my side:
oh so Martin my mother's brother
is ******* "JARGON" TO YOU?!
EDIE! *******!
******* EDIE!
FOR TREATING MY MOTHER'S BROTHER
AS SIMPLY MY UNCLE!
******* EDIE!
*******!

f.y.f.r:n.t.y.

for your future reference: no thank you.
you ******* north americans
and your shenanigans of acronyms...
******* too! you Ginsbergs and Olsons...
you shoved Ezra into a mental
asylum...
he's the only sane America left...
and the joke being:
he's the DEAD, SANE, AMERICAN...

******* America...
i think i retain my Europe...
well 2000 years of yids...
tickled by Mongols and Turks
who aren't Arabs...
so it's not we didn't like in Serbia
side by side
i don't understand this awe-shocker
who's who and who done what?

it's a... LIFE PROJECT
or a life projection
me?
i've been readying myself for this
break-up
since i was 21
i didn't experience god
i experienced this break-up
in advance:
and no i was not out on a look-out
for a replacement model
this was my epitome
my va va voom
my all **** and all thigh
girl
this was my girl we're talking
about
i mean my EX
like something out of her
sprouted in me...

like i was never a guy for dating apps
but poetry website ruined that
avenue for me
never a poetry website
relationship
not come to think of it
i can replace the bicycle and the horse
for the car

standing on my feet for 12h
it feels comforting
to kneel and "break the shins"
because sitting down
is a fake comfort
to be honest,
kneeling best
after 12h of standing...
this dodge-god giddy style
like i envy the possessors
of both wings and tails,
regardless of halos and horns...
regardless...

wish you were here
with a question, an exclamation mark,
colon, full-stop:
pinkish piglets in a yellow ring of fire
so so
calm
i managed to speak human with the crowd
from Leeds
i think i need to head outside of London
maybe even move to these lands
and accept: goosebumps 2nd or 3rd spring
chicken...
or see an opera or a musical
with me and
at the same time take off all that make-up,
or are you too afraid?
i can understand fear:
but there's a you in between
that conjures the fear of you
and the horror that's you...
how far part
in geo-psychology
is woring: OF from THAT'S...

i ask out of sincerity but no sicerity
here if there's talk of sardines
and the itchy train
and Dover my point of entry
and not Southampton...
because Devon, Heavenport,
some made-up thingy-madzit...
Sir Majid
like aging guitarists
a Layla on the ukulele...
   **** tested sweaty *******...
salt to sprinkle salt to sprinkle...
like goosebumps with an itch:
hard to thrill the... breeze...

                 all these hazards of trees
in the stretching cats before snooze
squeeze: extending by parameter
and parameter and no excuses
for a bad hair day...
all the fringe and paws
like i some vague hello and a vogue of
goodbyes
in the grey and silence...

what bothered me was her reaction
to my mother's brother
and that's what ended it for me,
like my mother could never possibly
have a brother...
like it would forever be
her and her daughter and her mother....
and some future nuisance of
inheritance tax of a sister
from the same mother but a different father.

Our twin eyes peered blankly into a plug store that was Joan Rivers
of 81 spinal years on blown vinyl chairs & oak-knotted bone slivers
that scratch the front of her **** like cameras beaten by drone livers
with relish, reliant on the fairest blessings of toe-errant crone givers
crushed by avalanche & made salt-mine deaf by rod & cone shivers
Joan moisturized new plastical scar slits with needled sewn quivers
just like big boys do; like the toady of Mr. Burns, Waylon Smithers
durin' break, shakily swooning to a crooning of a Marvin Gaye tune
after Marvin junior was shot by Marvin senior who was a luny loon
Bein' married to you is better than pluggin' drains too big to expand
the number of turbo jet flights to affable Disappointment City Land
near a region-4 F.E.M.A. death camp where all parsnips are canned
'cause prisoners demandin' fresh parsnips are going to get beheaded

I scroll through those dust filled pages,
Reminding myself of those bygone days
When the face glowed with sharp sun rays
And the rain moisturized the skin all the way.

I see those little fingers
Still learning to write
And those small chubby legs,
Still trying to take their first step.

Better did I know,
That life would take me to such a junction
Where giving those legs some rest,
would become a rather rusty function.

I stare at myself, laugh and smile
But just then, a tear rolled down my left eye
I search for those lost smiles
In my high end mirror glasses
But the only comfort that I find
Is in those dark empty shadows and glasses of wine.

What fun do you find in those two second mirror selfies
When I still remember the endless
wait for those good old
Vintage camera clicks with
members of each family

Better did I know,
That these vintage memories
would one day make me cry
While I search for that
behind the scenes little face,
Still learning to mould clay,
No matter she failed at each try.

I know that it's too late,
But I still recall those days
When I left those safety hands
And walked on my own big legs.
Now, that I have this good old stick,
I scroll through those dust filled pages
With my trembling hands for weeks..

No wonder I can still smell that old baby talcum
So glad, that I finally found this
Good old, Lost Album..

                   ~NIKITA MANSINGHKA

He was so sexually suave and strong,
a shimmery dream with high rising scenes,
overflowing with spectacular adjectives
and swagger, his eyes a paradise of vowels
bright diction with friction, sensuous nonfiction
with a descriptive definition.  His lips were softly
pink as the roses that bloom in the summertime
gardens, his distinguished beard growing
so beautifully, his hair filled with deep black
waves that I could gaze at for days and escape
inside his awakening nation.  I was engaged
by your exquisite sweetness, the urgency
of your verbs so firm and flawless, streaming
in his extensive content, his body and soul
written in prose, his dreadlocks swaying
in harmonious motion, so fixated on his manly
creation, the way his supreme scent streamed
in my nose, drawing me closer into his kingdom.
I enjoyed his serene warmth, his deepest desires,
his moisturized skin so satisfying, smelling like
dove, all clean and crisp, your golden earrings
And necklaces shimmering like a green gem.
I took in your dark eyebrows, your pieced nose,
your oval-shaped face so addictively gratifying,
finding delight in the way your physique glides
and spellbinds my thoughts, just turn off the lights
and let me linger in your life.  Surprise me exciting
treats, let me hit the blunt with you, let me get
essentially high, take shots after shots of Hennessy
as we become dizzy, our heads spinning in the wind,
covered in luscious sweatiness.

i used to know all your best friends,
just so you know
we used to giggle together in intimate classrooms

     but forget that, right?

i forgot the richness of politeness
the sweat dripped off my body
and your eyes dazzled like crystals.
a rose grew from the slight smile on your lips.
you awakened a fight or stay response in me

you reached out and touched my palms
and yours were not hot coals as i expected them to
be
they were violet and soft and smooth and moisturized
you didn’t have the crocodile disposition i dreamt you would

i felt like an animal that accidentally broke the glass of its confinement
and didn’t know what to do
with the scattering crowds and screaming children
so it just ran.

in your arms,
you caught me.
not too harshly,
but so i felt safety.

i owe you some serious debt for giving me
the simplest little smile along with
the tiniest little gestures

the claws of the lion dug into my spine,
razor-sharp and cruel

i didn’t deserve the kindness you showed me
i was scared you would hate me if i talked to you,
i didn’t know what to do.
the roses wilted inside my palms
as they stayed clumped from under the weight of my hands.

i pray that you blossom in your future
and i aspire to give the same kindness
as you have gifted to me.

You may think that your scars are healed, dormit. Well contrary to popular belief they aren't. Scars need constant rejuvenation to stay sealed and keep you from bleeding out. I know this because today my scars opened. The scar you left without another word or another look in my direction. I thought it healed. I heard your ****** name and the stitches I made unfurled. I take out my needle and my thread, and is it pierces my moisturized skin I curse myself for allowing this to happen. I curse your name for breaching my secured mind. The sanity I glued back together shatters at the very sound of your
voice. I thought that I was okay but after all that effort to forget and the red door that holds my memories of you away, away from my consciousness and away from the world, breaks. Like a dam too full or a kidney working to exhaustion. The cut that always bleeds. So ******* and your perfect face. ******* and your soothing voice. ******* and the memories we have. Do I miss you? Would you care? I hate you for what you did and I love you for what you didn't.