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aviisevil Oct 2014
24-march-1981

Hey sweetheart, it's been a while and I know you are depressed,
Sometimes it takes some time before you can move on and forget.
I wish I could've been there for you but that's not my only regret,
How is our little girl, do you still sing to her like I did,
Before you put her to bed ?.
I've been busy lately, there's just so much goin' on inside my head,
It's been so hard and I've been so stressed lately that sometimes--
I even forget to take a breath.
The time is ugly and I miss your pretty face whenever anger begins to swell,
Last night I tried to take my life, climbed over a chair and put on a belt,
But somehow I don't know how, it didn't work out when I fell
And I am sorry, I wouldn't do it again, I don't ever wanna feel,
How at that moment I felt.
I am sorry I left you guys alone, but know this that I'll never leave you,
I know it's been a ride but yesterday I had a dream and we did pull through,
You wore the black dress you wanted but I didn't have the money to buy,
I am sorry I couldn't get you things, I always hate myself for being that guy,
We are good people, don't you think ?
God doesn't answer our prayers no more and I don't know why,
I pray to him everyday, I want to buy you guys the world before I die.
Oh, it's about time already, I have to leave, see you soon, loads of love.
Good-bye.

3-april-1981

I got your letter yesterday, you sound better then you did a month before,
I hope you are doin' fine, I don't want you to get in trouble no more.
I don't want to speak about your suicide attempt, I have no words in store,
I hope you never think of it again, get those thoughts out of your core,
If not for me, for our daughter at least, I know you won't, I am sure,
Remember we have no one else but you, don't lock away our only Door.
Our little girl is growing way too fast, you should see her before she does,
She doesn't wants me to sing to her, she wants you,
So I don't sing to her anymore.
It's gettin' hard to pay the bills, it kills me to ask you,
But when are you sending the money, winter is around the corner--
And it's getting cold.
They say the winter is going to be the coldest in a decade,
I saw it yesterday on the news report.
I am saving some money, will buy our princess a new coat.
Don't you feel down, we love you with all our heart,
I miss you so much, I miss the way you could make me laugh.
Money is never important, but I guess we have nothing else either,
I still need some time to forgive you and forget what you did,
I don't sleep in our room no more, I still imagine you inside her.
But I guess I don't hate you anymore, I understand mistakes happen,
And out of 'em all, you deserve a second chance more than anyone else,
You were always and always will be a fighter,
I trust you with our lives, they say in darkness even a spark looks so brighter,
I know it's been a ride but we just have to sit it out and hold each other a little bit tighter,
So, I'll wait for your letter, take care of yourself,
I hope things will change now for the better.



17-june-1981



Things are getting bad over here, they are cutting men off,
I don't know if I'm going to be the next, so I am putting in more hours,
I don't know when it's all gonna' stop.
Sometimes I don't sleep all night, I just go out and walk,
It's good here in the city ya' know, every one minds their own business and nobody comes over to have a talk.
I went to a seminar yesterday, it was good ya' know,
The man on the stage told us we should be happy with what we've got
And then there were people crying about the loved ones they have lost,
It got me thinking, what a fool I am, I have you guys and that means alot,
Nothing would mean anything to me if I don't have you guys,
I just want you to know how much I love you guys and want to be with you no matter what the cost.
By the way I sent some money, I hope it would pay all the bills,
If some gets left over, I want you to buy something for yourself, promise me you will.
I know I hurt you so much and the scars need some time to fill,
But you know I love you and I know you love me still.
I don't wanna talk about it today, it makes me feel so sad,
Past couple of days were no good either, i guess I'm going mad,
I never knew things will turn out this way and the time will get this bad,
All I can do is dream about the good times we could have had.
Life is slipping away and every day we are getting old,
Why don't we learn about how much life *****, why is that we are never told.
I don't want rest of my life runnin' around and chasin' gold.
I want to come home and kiss you when I want, touch you and hold,
I hope it gets better after we die, I hope we have a soul,
This world is ******' trash and it swallows everything like a black-hole,
It takes away a father from his daughter, and husband away from his wife,
Dumps you in a ******' garbage land and expects you to survive,
God, it's been so long and all I want is to feel alive,
I am goin' out for a walk, I don't want to make you more sad, kisses to our princess, good-night.


26-june -1981

It's okay to be sad, it's okay to feel hurt and pain,
But it's not okay to just cry about it and complain,
Who are you so angry on, who else should be a part of our blame ?
Tell me, I need a name!.
Life is no fairytale, I have learned to accept it and now I am awake,
I hope you do too, before the lights go out and you have nowhere else to run,
You give up so easily, why do you think everyone else is havin' fun ?
Natalie lost her child a few weeks back, Stan lost his home,
We have both, don't we ? why do you think we are on our own ?
I get it, sometimes all this misery can make you feel alone,
But that doesn't mean you should give up everything and mourn,
C'MON don't give up now, remember when our daughter was born ?
They said she wouldn't make it, but she did, she didn't give up and neither will you for our home.
I know it will get better, most of all, you deserve it more than anyone else,
Even when the goin' got tough, you never once asked for help,
And I am proud of you, as I should be, and you should be too for yourself,
Like every other time, we only get stronger, after all the stuff we have dealt,
I admit, it feels like we're in a ******' hell,
Fate is not in our hands, but we can do our part and give all we have, it will make a difference I promise, someday we might hear them bells.
I don't have anything else to say, I hope you write back soon,
When you take a walk tonight look at the moon, I'll be looking too.

















12-November-1998

Hey Tim, I know we are getting married in a month but I still miss you so so much,
Wish you were her with me tonight, so I could kiss and touch.
But that's not why I am writing you this letter to make myself feel better.
I wanted to tell you about how I feel about it all,
Do you remember that painting I put on the wall ?
I made it when I was six, it was getting colder and it was in midst of fall.
Dad had gone away and mom and me were struggling to survive,
I was crazy too, not a day went by when I didn't pull of a tantrum and fight.
I wanted dad to sing to me every night, see his face before switching off the lights.
I didn't like mom that much, she always scolded me no matter what I did,
But i guess i didn't understand then, i was just a kid.
It was hard when I was growing up, sometimes we had a place and no food,
Other times we had food but no place of ours and trust me that wasn't cool.
I was always the odd one out and everyone made fun of me at school,
I hated my parents for that--
Oh, I was such a fool.
Dad worked night and day just so we could have food on the table every night,
Both my parents never got through high school, and got married when mom got pregnant and was thrown outside--
Of her home inspite of the fact she was the only child.
My dad left his home to support my mom against the wishes of his family,
They were so happy when I was born, they never treated me like a tragedy,
No matter how tough the times got, how low they got, they gave all they could to me happily,
They held me close and away from the gloomy reality.
I still remember how those years went by, for me it was just a blink of an eye
But to them it was a lifetime of hardship and pain,
But you know what they tell me ?
They would happily do it all over again.
They worked hard, both of them and things did change,
But you know what, they still remain the same,
Inspite of how far they have come and what they have achieved,
When it was too easy for them to leave, they stayed together,
Held my little hands and sheltered me no matter how bad was the weather,
I was all they cared about, nothing else never did matter,
They saved every penny for me, even though my dad had so many chances but he never left her.
You must be wondering why I am telling you all this now,
But today I found some old letters, in a box in the attic, now I understand so much better,
It made me sad for a while, but I guess it was a part of our life,
It made us who we are today, I wouldn't want it any other way either,
I don't know what to call it, but I know it makes me feel loved, crazy isn't it ?
To know how far they have come, and how their hard worked payed off,
It almost makes me want to believe in god but I don't have to,
That will only make my parents struggle look less inspiring, god didn't pull us through.
They did, and I owe my every breath to them,
I don't know what made me hold a pen, but I don't want them to know I found those letters,
So I am confessing all of this to you,
I will show them to you one day, when things get tough, maybe that'll help us to find our way,
For it made me realize one thing and one thing only,
Love stays red even if the world moves on to shades of grey,
I guess it all makes sense now, it's such a beautiful day.
Notes (optional)
Akshay Ghadge May 2018
(Hook)

The way we be online,

stocking, posting are our way to spend time…

Be aware from this virtual world,

Its nothing but the drag,

To zero from One…

There are some good to things do,

But fake virtuality on your mind

(1st Verse)

I hate social media

Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat

And all that crap cause Hey?

It’s misleading our ******* Generation

Look at our youth today

They can’t look up from their tabs cause they’re

too much obsessed with what’s going on

Gossips and all that stupidity

Hey, I’ve got a new pair of shoe, I gotta post that

And hey, look at That ******* beach

Ain’t she cool? I gotta double tap that

You see? Our youth are too much engrossed in ‘looking and acting cool’ than in being true

To who they really are

I mean they’re acting rich online buh those **** Kids are struggling offline

And what’s this thing about having friends

You’re never going to meet?

Not now, not ever?

(Hook)

The way we be online, stocking, posting are our way to spend time…

Be aware from this vertual world,

Its nothing but the drag,

To zero from One…

There are some good to things do,

But fake virtuality on your mind

(2nd Verse)

Friends who’ll never be there for you

Physically or emotionally

Friends who will never understand

How you really feel

Friends from the other side of your screen

I mean, **** social media

What’s the use of having Four-Thousand friends buh they will never be there for you?

What’s the use of uploading Thousands of filtered photos just to look cool?

*****, you should get out to the sun, life is perfect, it doesn’t need to be filtered

And so, my dear sisters

You don’t need that crop top to look beautiful

You already are

You don’t need that mini-skirt to look fabulous

You already are

Don’t let social media dictate to you

What should be social

Don’t feel left out if you can’t afford those heels

you saw Natalie with last week

Chances are, they were be borrowed

Don’t feel left out if you can’t come up with

a catchy on fleek nonsense

Chances are, it was copy pasted

And you know what?

Part of the reason why I hate social media

is because it has revolutionized

our thinking abilities

We’re now thinking in terms of likes

comments and shares

(Hook)

The way we be online, stocking, posting are our way to spend time…

Be aware from this virtual world,

Its nothing but the drag,

To zero from one…

There are some good to things do,

But fake virtuality on your mind

(3rd Verse)

**** Social Media

It’s sad to realize that people’s worth

is now measured in terms of likes

It’s sad to realize that you can be a celeb online

But a freaking ******* offline

You can be a ******* player online

But a freaking loser offline

Social Media has become a platform of hiding who we really are

We’re hiding our traits behind those screens

**** Social Media

You ain’t giving us a chance

To be ourselves

Fake accounts, fake profile pictures

**** Social Media

You’re only giving us a chance

To manifest and present

Our alter egos

And you’re getting it all wrong

We’re now more like, who we dream to be

Than who we really are

(Post chorus)

I hate Social Media

But when all is said and done

I’m still gonna post this online

Cause at the end of the day?

I still want you to subscribe
JoJo Nguyen Mar 2016
going down a rabbit hole
of obscure references
really?
Good Times is lost?
are we really in our own Lost World
or Land of the Lost
or deep within Inception?

Who's Jimmy Walker, we now
never knew him
and is he still alive a quick search
says yes!
how can we not know
slanted sitcoms?
and blaxplotation with bad
back running Brown
acting totally different
than wet backs another
brown water should we flush
it down?

at least she knows
Alice in Wonderland
at least she's seen
one version on one
mode or another
book tape movie
there's also the **** version

We're waiting for the tactile mode
coming straight to our head
like Natalie Wood
just before she died following her own
Brainstorm into anther world
off to another lost reference
or obscure rabbit hole
Judy Ponceby Jan 2011
The Notorious Natalie sat in her chair plotting the downfall of Nurse Agnes.  She did not notice her quarry coming down the hall as her mind was absorbed in plots of ******.  Having only recently attained sobriety, she took the picky Nurse Agnes as being a sanctimonious old bat. Startled, she looked up into that very old nurse's face, and lunged at her with her icepick in hand.  Unfortunately for Natalie, being forgetful as she was, she tripped over the walker she was using.  The ice pick entered her easily and put an end to Notorious Natalie's plotting for good.  

Thus Ends a Terrible Story.
And again.  Sanctimonious.  Sobriety.  Forgetful.  Old.  Notorious.  Picky.  Absorbed.
Allan Mzyece Jul 2016
If you wanna get over someone you gotta jump on someone else and move on!
That's ******* true!
But, I jumped on the same person

I must be still blind
cause real beauty doesn't apply to her on the inside
she wont love me
Well, I dont give a ****!
I bet I have ****** more dead girls than her

ROSES ROCK!!!
VIOLETS ****!

Sue I want my ******* heart back

Word! Natalie's the reason there are no fairy tales in real life
Disney's out of business, *******!
Happily ever after goes to the witches!

Oh and Sarah! you can go **** yourself!
I guess Kate will die in church!
Heartless!
I must be still blind
Heartless!!!
But Nat's still one of a kind!

ROSES ROCK!!!
VIOLETS ****!

She wont love me
Well, I dont give a ****!
I am out in the Wild, Tryna make Unicorns Pregnant, cause her Violets ****!
Alexis Martin May 2013
My childhood best friend got engaged
and the first thing that came to my mind
when she asked me to be in the wedding
was that I really hope there is an open bar
-
WARNER BAXTER May 2015
David slings a rock
Cop holsters a glock,  Lizzie Borden packs an axe
Mac he packs the knife, Billy battles with a club, Tommy’s gun is a sub
Kelly’s got 1 too, Bazooka Joe Is Gum, Peter Gun not, Colt 45 is not malt
Nor a horse, hand grenades, canons w/big *****, Doc Holiday had TB
Rock Hudson ***, James Dean crash his car,Hank Williams in his bar
Natalie Wood don’t float, Cain killed brother, Juliette poison her lover,
Whitey Bulger, he  killed and got paid,  deadman walking  gets to eat
Rodney King he got beat, got beat Mama Cass Elliott choked on ham
58,000 gone in Nam, 4 dead in Ohio, Kamikazes fall 1941, again 2001
Iraqi leader w/ a rope, John Belushi too much dope, C. Manson is alive
Michael Jackson isn’t,  Saturday night special is very ordinary
Fast and furious is the crime, **** Clark just his time
Pirate victims walk the plank, THINK,
Next I’ll come rolling up in a tank
Hear the whistle of my missile
***** Harry had the biggest
The  Derringer  is  small
Smokey Bear forest fire
Greek funeral is a pyre
Too many  +’s or  -’s
Is electrical surges
Woman and child
sing the dirges
Walking dead
Are  zombies
Fat man and
Little Boy
Are atom
Bombies
as for me
in a blaze
of glory
BOOM
Good Morning, Miss Natalie
I'm fine, how are you?
A spell of politeness and flattery
Specially written for you.

Holy f*cking ****, Alex
If we get caught, we're so *******
Energy unbound, mischief abound
Spells i cast to keep up with you.

I'm fine, don't worry, Mother.
I love you but you must let me write these myself
Silenced lips, secrets and the curse of respect
Wards protecting the fears i shove in the back of my shelf
.
.
.
hey...you...
i missed you today

you press your face,
mumbling, into the palm of my hand
my grimoire begins melting
the spells dripping from where i stand

i caress your cheeks with my thumbs
small circles,
gentle, light
the utter safety of what i can trust to be true

i have no need for spells around you.
Day after day i have to cast spells on myself to get by. It's gotten to the point where i don't know if anything i do is genuine. Always being on guard, trying to figure out what spell to use, has exhausted me. I'm thankful that i have one sanctuary.
Robin Carretti May 2018
Sounds swarming
But quite alarming

College babes
Like_ Slimfast
Drink
fast
Loves never last
Dorming ****
X box Assassin Creed
Video gifts Elfering
Twitter  featuring
The Rattlesnake
*******

My sweet
surrender
Sangria
stuttering

Big mistake
The sangria
Clever mastering
The place was
bugged
That Drunk
No comedy act
Ben Stiller

All  Gigs **** her
GIF ruff stuff
Gold digger bluff
Hangover cliff
Her bedroom eyes
Tonight the
Holy water
I phone Maria
Sangria suits him
Just the ring fighter

Ratfinks website
White being
creamed
Drink Kahlia

I won't
My dream drink
Sangria
Saint
My love, you ain't

He is singing
Maria
Strong hangover
with mudpack
Malaria

Drink playmate
All geared up
Generous Gina
Montezuma revenge
The Saint lounge
Competition
How she flaunts
her drinks inferior
Writing a poem
missing
some fonts
((His Tatoo))
the bomb drinker
Pineapple chunks
Bayou
water ripe ripples
Leftover drunks
Mon Cheri *******

Acting like a Saint
Terri spiritual Rumi
The drink scruples
relationship
sandstorm

Riders of
Morrisons
Heirs of beer
At the dorm

The ((Psychic Alarm))
Your drink woke
you up
****** humor
potential
Sangria
Someone was singing
I just met a girl
named Maria

((Harry Potter Hogwarts))
San Antonio
Met Maria
What a belly wash

Drinking up
Alcoholic Darts
Sanguine
Difficulty
pregnancy
Two lovers
liking Maria

Optimistic
Smoothing in
Sangria
He has
a Margarita
*
Mexican
Cancun
Margaret
upbeat
down to her
last drink

Sangria tank
Egyptian Army
buddy drinking
Like a
sandbank

Computer
Clickbank
Lions and coins
sandblasting
Morons
multitasking
Bermuda sounds
Sandpipers
And globetrotters
My Saint
of Sangria

Barcelona
Goddess
On her drenched
Sangria
mattress
She could
have done
his Bio

((That SanAntonio))

((Hostess)) Gia
Lollobrigida
Tony was singing
out to Maria

Her wings
of liquor
The Saint moves
quicker
_


Cabaret stripper
Natalie let me
entertain you
Surprise the
sanitarians
Flipping homes
Drinking up
Their Sangria
My Saint
Bella
Mama Mia
You arrived invite
your friends
No Maria
_!!
Drinks on me
Schools out
But Sangria
Stays in we party
Way out
Drinks of so many but we must be the Saint that Godly drink let it be our destined God please don't nod when your down and out Sangria shout
Allan Mzyece Jan 2017
Stranger danger, I am about to make all kinds of poets surrender... how? you wonder why? let me clarify :- let me amplify; my voice is sharper than a knife when I say I love Natalie
Adding a twist between different lives
i magnetise, form faster than they spread there lies
they say that I NEED TO BUY ***** JUST TO OPEN UP YOUR BIBLES
because i am possessed by Love demons
but to all Poets, i stand as a Villain; my messages stay hidden for someone with greater vision
you can't understand my cranium inside, i have a god's insight
I have been painting the future just to fall in love with the past
I miss them all! i miss my soul busked in the devil's mask
this is something that you will never outmatch! this is life vibrating a damb man's uvula
cute babies lubricating toys with saliva, while i am busy kissing a former lover in a world under, but above all you poets that slunder
Your words I plunder!
I am a first class writer
You can't bring me down
because I robbed you of your Crown!
Sara Kellie May 2018
You've been the roof above my my head.
You've been the pillow on my bed.
The bubbles in my bath, the tonic to my wrath.
All this you were and this you still are.
You could've escaped, you could've gone far.
You're the first to call, you make my problems small.
Just one thing though!
You still call me Paul.

Poetry by Kaydee.
Natalie and I were married in January 2007 . . . . and still are!
Mahatma Jones Feb 2015
My friend Gerard, (who is alive), looks like an Arabian slave-boy, though swarthier and longer of hair than Tony Curtis; an olive –skinned Mowgli, ape boy of Kipling’s  “Jungle Book”, although I have never seen Gerard swinging through any trees, nor eating any insects, nor even kissing a sultan’s foot. But looks can be deceiving, or receiving, with the proper pen, the zen pen of a poet, this proper poet who lives upstairs with his multitude of books piled on the floors, walking on Whitman, sitting on Shakespeare; tripping over Ginsberg, sleeping on Sartre; not a single shelf for this Jung man.
“A place for everything, and for everything it’s place”, he stands and stares out of a window overlooking the jungle of five-foot high weeds that serves as our backyard and wonders aloud “whither Oregon?”; questions our alleged enlightened sense of awareness, his disposition toward liberalness in a world gone madder than usual. Have I convinced him yet, my naïve, trusting neighbor? Yes, he realizes with a sigh that it is so, now that he has finally succumbed and bought a thirteen inch, black & white television of his own, now he can see with his own brown eyes in his own living room, far off wars, instant coffee & instant karma, depersonalized tragedies, faceless fatalities, insidious soap operas and humorless sitcoms, adverse advertisements, Howard Stern; “whither sanity?” we both cry and laugh out loud at this mediocre media, the global sewage, the Marshall McClueless, me and Gerard Rizza, my friend who is alive.

Gerard, (who is healthy), is gay, yet straighter than most men, and has been complaining quite a bit about the ferry service lately; contemplating a move off of Staten Island, and leaving his sporadic substitute teaching gig at a nearby high school, a mere six block walk from our house atop Winter Hill, where he is trying to convince me, a wide-eyed cynic, that a blank, white, unused canvas, surrounded by a wooden picture frame hung upon his wall is indeed a work of art; the job is very convenient, but again the ******* about the ferry, not the boat ride per se, but the incongruities of the ****** schedule, which anybody who has ever just missed a three a.m. boat and had to wait for an hour in the Hierynomous Bosch triptych known as the Whitehall Ferry terminal ,will definitely attest to; and Gerard has this thing about Staten Islanders, like the homophobes at a recent anti-peace rally in New Dorp, supporting the carpet bombing of an oil rich yet still poor third-world country, throwing beer cans at him and his companions while shouting “we know where you live, *******!”. Rizz came home that evening, visibly shaken and pale, (not his usual olive-skinned self), knocked on my door and pleaded “whither ******?”. I went upstairs, sat on his couch and rolled a joint. Gerard puts on the new 10,000 Maniacs tape and tries, once again, to bait me in a conversation about his “work of art”, my work of naught; he speaks of the horrific details of his day. “Isn’t this picture of Doc Gooden on my refrigerator door proof enough of my manhood, my patriotic intent, for those *******? The ******’ Mets, fuh chrissakes!” We sit out on his porch, watching the sun set over our backyard jungle as Natalie sings wireless Verdi cries, and I pass the burning joint to Gerard, my friend who is still healthy.

My friend Gerard, who is *** positive, was quite possibly a cat in a former life, probably a Siamese, thin, dark and aloof; yes, I can see ol’ Rizz now, sprawled out on an old tapestry rug, getting his belly scratched by his owner, perhaps Emily Dickinson or Georgia O’Keefe, Rizz purring like the engine of an old bi-winged barnstormer; abruptly rolls over, gets on all fours, tail waving *****, slinks over to lap water out of a bowl marked “Gerard”. He’d sleep all day on books and original manuscripts, and play all night amongst oil & acrylic, knocking over an occasional blank canvas, which he, in a future incarnation, will try to convince me, in his feline manner, is art. Sitting and staring from his usual spot on the windowsill, his cat eyes blink slowly as he wonders, “whither dinner?”; and begins to clean himself with tongue and paw, this cat who might be Gerard, my friend who is *** positive.

Gerard, who is sick, recently moved to Manhattan, Chelsea, to be precise, in with his best friend; and has stopped ******* about the Staten Island ferry, having far more pressing matters to ***** about, i.e. the ever-rising cost of homeopathic medicine and the lack of coverage for holistic and alternative care; any number of political and social concerns (Gerard was never the silent type); the lateness of his first published book of poems, entitled “Regard for Junction”; his rapidly deteriorating health, etc., etc.; and is now a true city dweller, a zen denizen, a proper poet with high regard for junction. That’s all that remains when it’s all over anyway, this junction, that junction, petticoat junction, petticoat junction – “I always wanted to **** the brunette sister”, I’d once told him; “I prefer uncle Joe!”, he laughingly replied; dejection, rejection, reclamation, defamation, cremation, conjecture, conjunction, all junctions happening at the same time, at now, a single place, a single moment, this forever junction with Gerard, my friend who is dying.

My friend Gerard, who is dead, officially passed from this life on a Saturday morning in early April, a mere two weeks before his junction with publication, although Gerard my friend passed away much earlier, leaving a sick and emaciated body behind to play host to his bedside guests, to help bear the pain of his family and friends; so doped-up on morphine, no longer able to remember any names, he called me “*****” when I entered the hospital room, where this barely physical manifestation of what had once been Gerard Rizza was being kept alive like the barest glimmer of hope, and displayed like some recently fallen leader, lying in state;  “whither Gerard withers” I thought, saying goodbye to this Rizza impersonator, this imposter, this visitor from a shadow world, an abstraction of a friend, whom the nurses told us, his disbelieving visitors, was our friend Gerard, who though technically still alive, was already dead.

My friend Gerard, who is laughing
My friend Gerard, who is singing
My friend Gerard, who is coughing
My friend Gerard, who is sleeping
My friend Gerard, who is holy
My friend Gerard, who is missed.
(c) 1994 PreMortem Publishing
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
She rose the lifted gypsy smile
Little women Big-spender
Gimic
Desperate housewives selling
their soulful tears epidemic
This wasn't 666 Satan heart broke
Got to Lee Remick when she spoke
Going to Denmark Gypsy booth

You could feel the white satin
Saturday in the park dictator
with Stalin, her lips moistened
with her watermelon
But why so manic
Zero tears to panic

City frantic the Rose sensual ******

Over a tear-drop dangling
Love waiting anticipating
How she smiles her earring
drops down waves
fight her fear
The big whale
don't flip my tear

Holiday she's the jingle cash
register Knighting meets Gale
nothing didn't register
Let me entertain you, shy tease
Natalie, Clue lounge tears Grunge

So strange they stripped away
scarecrow harvest October
Remember the Nile love
November
The nightmare gypsy
unfortunate events
No comments

The holiday wasn't
exactly a  Supercalifragilistic
*$ ++ monarch
But she wears herself whip cream
lick
Going for the blue crying her eyes
out "Blue-Terry Cloth"  was sick
eye velvet' the men of the cloth

So religiously afraid of the
Goth  Rosy Lee path
Left her aroma mark
The world is a blackout
Her shoutbox rosy boot
So creepy like a fox-trot
So much to upkeep
Memory lane yellow
brick road

Brown-coffee-accident spilled
she yelled demons allowed
  The buyer made me
Accountant clicking tears

Gypsy  tug of war
Doll Raggetty Annie Oakley
Crystal Expensive tear
doesn't come cheap money
50 winks who wants to sleep
Rose Pomedeur widow weeps
What a square Mr bigfoot
Get off of my cloud boot
Moved her rolling stone


Her tear was in the plate he didn't
even have the heart to pick it up
French danish pastry so prim and
proper  
Another naked spy bad romance
Her cry needed to be homemade
like her rose candles
The roaring twenty- she's 13 going
on thirty
Gypsy of forty your getting old
but flirty
  (Shes so Harvard) Sugar daddies
forever young
Help me Rhonda teardrop tipsy
Graduation Cap the eye owl gypsy
Jeremy the beamer drummer
Gypsy Rose hummer
A thousand tears her death card
People have no regard

Living on a crystal tear end
He's her bookend so beat in
her beatnik house
All staged Cher the Gypsy outfits
Cry babes girl product
What conduct Rose -Lee spanked
on her knee tears popped the waterbed
He never showed one tear
Cry me a river crystalline diary
All preliminaries
We missed her lonely sober tear

Mona Lisa Mona Lisa how the men
have met you how death becomes
you
I'm not buying your cry I was deeply
hurt it set such an impact
The -new- Boy George culture of tears
Over-erase she highly medicated
More I see you having affairs
happy, sad, overjoyed,
you have been had

Carribean Depp Pirate rotten teeth
Statue of liberty is crying at birth

I am not going to lower my
standards just skip
Cinderella so sinister to sweep
Wizard at her boutique
Mysteriously eyes unique
Best tear to enhance is always
the antique now start crying
Gypsy take on let me entertain you but this is the tear  like a New Year of all
the envy
David W Clare Jan 2015
Better stop and think, you should watch your step
be careful what you say, don't want to get me upset

just button your lip, no need to leave a tip
time to dummy up, go away now and get yourself hip

better pack it up, go live with your mom
the life i choose is a bit too strong

take on a wild girl like me, the kind they say many just hate us

a **** i couldn't give, hey boy i'm not your waitress

"I'm not your waitress"
hey, get your eyes off me
"I'm not your mommy"
don't touch me. cause i don't work for free
"I'm no not some **** waitress"
no oh whoa ...
"I'm not your inflatable dolly or sweet lovely waitress"


i'm sick and tired of your simple mind

can't you tell by now, you're a waste of time

dont push me around, the envelope you've stretched it


my name's not Natalie Step and Fetch-it

this kinda of scene is ill for mental health

you want something? then go get it yourself

take on a power girl like me, the type they say many only hate us

a crap i couldn't give, hey boy i'm not your waitress

"I'm not your waitress"
hey, get your eyes off me
"I'm not your mommy"
don't touch me. cause i don't work for free
"I'm no not some **** waitress"
no oh whoa ...
"I'm not your waitress"

i'm sick and tired of your idiot mind

cant you tell by now, to me you're a waste of time

dont push me around, the envelope you've stretched it


please dont grab at me or slap my hot **** ***

im not interested in you, an old poor white stupid trash

too bad, you look confused and so hungry fool

i wouldn't serve you well: it takes more than any money can do

listen up!

"I'm not your waitress"
hey, get your eyes off me
"I'm not your mommy"
don't touch me. cause no no no ... i don't work for free
"I'm no not some cheap waitress"
no oh whoa ...
"I'm not your missy prissy kiss kiss kissy  wa wa wa waitress"

fa fa fa fug-off jocko ****!

"I'm not your waitress"
hey, get your eyes off me
"I'm not your mommy"
don't touch me. cause i don't work for free
"I'm no not some **** doh doh waitress"
 no no oh oh whoa ...
...I'm not your waitress!

© 2009 david clare  clairvoyant music / BMI    all rights reserved
My sassy Thai ex girlfriend in Thailand said this title to me...
Allan Mzyece Jul 2016
Flying round and round
with her broken wings
she attracts my ***** eyes

She denied that lovely guy
now a monster walks in his shoes
As she regrets that stupid move
he becomes the unknown
Love me; Sweet Angel Love me!!!
Fix my broken heart and find happiness!!!
Love me; Sweet Angel Love me!!!
Bite my lips and take me abliss!!!
She sees something's wrong with him but plays the silent game
he has become a shame; cause no angel wants to save his soul from the beast that dwells inside
he begins to: ****, **** and steal
after he has done all that he cries himself to sleep
Legend has it, that he is the wolf in clothings of a sheep
Love me; Sweet Angel ******* Love me!!!
she flies up with her broken wings
He calls for her as he is being scolded by earthly kings
Angel!!! Angel!!! Save Me!!!
fix my Broken heart!
before i rip my family apart!
She meets him
He looks straight in her big brown eyes
Falls to the ground says
"Natalie i loved you"
and then he finally dies
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2020
Miracle on 34th Street.
So good, she was terrifying.
Unable to cry on cue,
Mother tore a butterfly to pieces,
And she sobbed and sobbed.

Compartmentalized,
Body and spirit broken
By the hours at
Chateau Marmont.

From sweetness
To restlessness.
From academic nods
To drinking in the scenery.
From charmed head shots
To one too many dry martinis.

Gorgeous and gloomy,
"She clings to things with her eyes,"
And naturally was committed.
Her orchestra played
A signature tune:
Splendor in the Grass.

Picture is in the tank
And so is the marriage.
Again.
Furlough is on the brink
And so is the divorce.
Again.

Charting course,
Casting reels,
Dreaming where the boats vanish,
Drowning in a paradox of watercolors.

Who pushed you over the side,
Russian doll?
Wood drowned off Catalina Island on November 29, 1981, at age 43. The events surrounding her death have been explained by conflicting witness statements, prompting the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department under the instruction of the coroner's office to list her cause of death as "drowning and other undetermined factors" in 2012. In 2018, the man she had been married to was named a person of interest in the ongoing investigation into her death.
wandabitch Nov 2013
The taste is bitter the luck grows thinner, and doubt fills every pore.
Am I to bold to fear the adventures you seek
Outside of gas and heat.

Be wise be free be wild be Natalie.
I know dear friend, I'll see you again.

Revised...

:) you sneaky little *****.
Autumn Mar 2016
I pulled the door open, prayed.
Hoped I wouldn't see your smile
bright and shiny behind the tile.

My breath died a moment, when I
heard my name in your voice,
my feet had to make a choice.

My eyes closed and I walked.
You small talked me,
as you stirred sugar in my coffee.

You asked about my weekend,
how Natalie's hangover faired.
My true feelings were dared.

"You want to know how I'm doing? I am
Livid.
Depressed.
Scared.
Distraught.

"I trusted you, Matt. You promised me! I BELIEVED YOU!

"Good-bye."

My eyes opened and I walked.
You small talked me,
as you stirred sugar in my coffee.

You asked about my weekend,
how Natalie's hangover faired.
My true feelings were spared.

"Thanks for the coffee."

I trusted too much.
Barricaded too late.
It's my fault.

I thought you were the exception,
but who am I to believe
any one would choose me?
He doesn't care. He lied.
Ceyhun Mahi Sep 2020
Night and day I see your face at stores;
A famous one, seen in different shapes,
That does express life, which each fan adores,
Adventures with downfalls and escapes.
Like stars of olden days, in black and white,
In every scene you shine with emotions,
Each smile, each tear a different sight,
Praised for many philosophical notions.
Oh, and my teenage years were filled with you,
Right and left I would see you for a while,
Till I would suddenly find someone new,
Making me feel safe with a lonely smile.
Amongst the loved ones you were then, O star,
Nonstop, while I was always apart so far.
It fits perfectly for a sonnet :)
Sora Mar 2013
My clock is ticking away
Faster then anyone else's
Somehow, I just know

That I'll get a tombstone
Or my own wooden coffin
Way before anyone I know will

And I need you Natalie,
More then I thought I ever had before
More then I thought I would

I'll probably be gone
Before my parents
And I think it's supposed to play out like that

I'm still breathing
Although my lungs are starting to drown
Would you let me sink?

I've needed you Nat,
Even before I knew who you were
More then someone could ever need someone else before
More then I thought I would ever need you

Because Natalie,
You're my life support
taylor kathleen Jul 2014
life can deliver unexpected news
the way you handle the outcome is something to choose.

hazel grace was young when she was dealt her fate
cancer consumed her thyroid then lungs, she deteriorated at a slow rate.

she never did give up, even when hearing her mother's sobbing whispers of believing she would die
hazel regained strength enough to attend activities in the literal heart of jesus with the ball-less, guitar guy.

then one day augustus waters appeared out of the blue
blind isaac's friend without a leg and a half smile hazel viewed.

he stared at this sickly teen with compassion and curiosity in his eyes
hazel stared back wondering why anyone would fall for a person that would soon die.

augustus pulled out a cigarette and placed it in between his teeth
a metaphor that could never **** him but brought comfort beneath.

after the lesson he immediately made plans to watch a movie
he drove like a maniac but hazel thought he was pretty groovy.

the time she shared with this new soul was overwhelmingly amazing
the cancer was soon forgotten and their mutual desires were blazing.

she revealed her one kept secret- an imperial affliction
her favorite book and his the price of dawn- max mayhem's adventures became her new addiction.

he loved her natalie portman style, oxygen tank phillip and witty charm
she loved how he never let his cancer make him feel alarmed.

he was on a roller-coaster that only went up, that was his daily quote
hazel felt intrigued by this optimistic note.

she slowly relapsed when water filled her lungs
telling her dream guy to leave this grenade while their love was still young.

after a youth-cancer meeting, isaac grabbed monica's ***** and repeated two syllables to this pretentous ****
and when hazel and augustus listened to "always"- he knew he could never let his new soulmate run.

monica ditched isaac when hearing he would lose his sight
augustus let his best friend break his existentially-fraught free throw trophies and throw eggs at her car with all his pain and might.

phone calls/texts quickly showed "okay" was hazel and augustus' term
this was a word that portrayed their love could always be reaffirmed.

a swing set in hazel's backyard soon brings her to tears
augustus helps her give it to a new family to use for many years.

they fell in love with the way you fall asleep, slowly then all at once
their love grew unbreakable in those shortly shared months.

although augustus knew the world was not a wish-granting factory
he had a plan that he believed hazel would think satisfactory

hazel's dying wish was used in disney, augustus ashamed but still kept his for the perfect time
to see author peter van houten was a dream for hazel and he made it come true- they would see him in amsterdam while still in their prime.

a night in amsterdam hazel will never forget: drinking star-infused champagne and eating decadent food with a boy who wore a suit for the dead
later they shared intimacy and hazel grace left a diagram for her love- augustus was no longer a ****** with one leg and he chuckled at what she said.

the next day they went to see the genius van houten and hazel dressed like ana trying to contain her emotions
turns out he was simply a rude drunk and after calling him "******-pants" they stormed out but the ****'s stewardess came with a kind notion.

she took them both to the house of anne frank
sharing a kiss words cannot describe, they left and gave thanks.

before leaving back to the states, hazel could tell augustus holds back
he finally states the cancer lit his body like a christmas tree and hazel's heart felt attacked.

back in indiana she cares for her dying lover
she finds him trying to buy cigs and infected from his disease, he was trying so hard to cover.

augustus knows he is going to die so he asks isaac and hazel to meet him in the literal heart of jesus, each with a eulogy
he wants to attend his own funeral, hearing isaac crack jokes and hazel thanking him for their little infinity was stated so beautifully.

a few weeks later augustus dies
no energy for living, hazel cannot remove the tears from her eyes.

she did not share her heart-felt letter at his funeral because she wanted their love to remain within each other's hearts
she dictated kind words then was greeted by van houten, finding out his daughter was ana and died from cancer, drinking eased the fact that they would always be apart.

isaac relinquished to hazel that augustus wrote to her before his time ended
van houten e-mailed his writing and her heart was truly mended.

reading his ideology that he liked his choices of who hurt him and he wondered if she did too
taking in this precious letter hazel whipered, "i do augustus, i do".
#tfios #poetry #summerbook #hazelgrace #augustuswaters #truelove
judy smith Mar 2017
The streets of Paris were clogged by rallies and demonstrations on the Sunday of fashion week. At the Trocadero, a pro-rally for embattled French conservative presidential candidate Francois Fillon, blocking the route between the Valentino and Akris shows; at Bastille, an anti-Fillon demonstration.

The French elections — and ever-increasing security — were providing a tense backdrop to the autumn-winter collections, much like Donald Trump, Brexit and Matteo Renzi did on the fashion circuit of New York, London and Milan this season. Politics and the changing of the guard, women’s rights and diversity may make fashion seem irrelevant until you add up the value of the industry to the world economy. In Britain it is £28 billion ($45bn) — and that is small fry next to France and Italy.

Perhaps politics and social change have influenced the French designers for there was much less street style this season and a lot more tailored, working clothes on the catwalk. They used mostly masculine fabrics but worked in such a graceful way. You need only look at Haider ­Ackermann, Chanel, Alexander McQueen, Christian Dior, Lanvin, Akris and Ellery to see this — lots of great wearable clothes.

Karl Lagerfeld wanted to fly us to other worlds (to abandon the mess here perhaps) in his Chanel space rocket. There were checks, cream, silvery white and grey tweeds, for suits and shorts and dark side of the moon print dresses that cleverly avoided the 60s’ ­futuristic cliches. Silver moon boots, space blanket stoles and rocket-shaped handbags were as space-age-y as it got. There was quiet, seductive tailoring at Haider Ackermann — tapered silhouettes in black wool and leather softened with a knit or the fluff of Mongolian lamb for a blouson or skirt. At McQueen the asymmetric lines of a black coat or pantsuit were ­inspired by the fluid lines of ­Barbara Hepworth’s sculptures, whereas David Koma reclaimed the soaring shoulderline of Mugler’s 80s silhouette for pantsuits and mini-dresses for the brand.

Christian Dior’s uniform-inspired daywear was produced in tones of navy blue with 50s-style navy belted skirts suits, long pleated skirts and some denim workwear. “I wanted my collection to express a woman’s personality, but with all the protection of a ­uniform,” explained Maria Grazia Chiuri before the show.

There was more suiting at ­Martin Grant with voluminous trousers, cummerbunds and men’s shirting. The cut was more mannish at Ellery and Celine with ­Ellery balancing her masculine oversized jacket looks with feminine bustier tops with giant puff sleeves. The mannish look at ­Celine was styled with sharp ­lapels, slim-cut trousers under crushed textured raincoats, whereas ­double-breasted jackets (a trend) and peacoats over loose-cut trousers appeared at John Galliano.

Checks jazzed up the tailoring at Akris where there were more sophisticated double-breasted jackets and swing coats, and at ­Giambattista Valli from among the flirty embroidered dresses a dogtooth coat emerged with a waspie belt and a suit with a peplum skirt.

Stella McCartney displayed her Savile Row skills in heritage checks for her equestrian-themed show. Of course, she is crazy about riding and her prints featured a famous painting by George Stubbs, Horse Frightened by a Lion. It turns out Stubbs was another Liverpudlian, like her dad Sir Paul.

Of course Hermes’s vocabulary started with the horse and there were leather-trimmed capes and coats that fitted an equestrian, or at least country theme worn with woollen beanies and big sweaters, offering a different way of tailoring, in an easier silhouette with a soft colour palette.

The highlight of the week for Natalie Kingham, buying director at MatchesFashion.com was ­Balenciaga. “Great accessories, great coats and great execution of ideas,” she says of Demna Gvasalia’s off-kilter buttoned coats, stocking boot and finale of nine spectacular Balenciaga couture gowns reinterpreted in a contemporary way. “It was wearable, modern and the must-see show of the week.” It was also, she pointed out “the must-have label off the runway with every other person on the front row decked out in the spring collection”.

Although tailoring worked its subtle charms on the catwalk, there were flashes of brightness, graceful beauty and singularity. Particularly bright were Miu Miu’s psychedelic prints, feathered and jewelled lingerie dresses and colourful fun fur coats with furry baker boy hats. Then there was the singular look evoked by Austrian-born Andreas Kronthaler in his homage to his roots, with alpine flowers, Klimt-style artist smocks and bourgeois chintz florals worked in asymmetric and padded silhouettes for Vivienne Westwood — some of it modelled by the Dame herself.

Pagan beauty, the wilds of Cornwall, ancient traditions such as the mystical “Cloutie” wishing tree led to Sarah Burton’s enchanting Alexander McQueen show, which was another of Kingham’s favourites with its unfinished embroideries inspired by old church kneelers and spiritual motifs. “I loved the artisanal threadwork and the spiritual message that was woven throughout,” she says. The artisanal and spiritual she considers an emerging trend around the shows. “It had a slight winter boho vibe but much more elevated.”

Chitose Abe shared that mood for undone beauty with her Sacai collection of hybrid combinations of tweed and nylon for an anorak, and deconstructed lace for a parka, and puffers with denim re-worked with floral lace for evening.

There was more seductiveness at Valentino and Issey Miyake. The latter’s collection shown in the magnificent interiors of Paris’s Hotel de Ville, shimmered with the colours of the aurora borealis and used extraordinary fabric technology to create rippling movement as the models walked.

Valentino was a high point. On a rainswept Sunday Pierpaolo Piccioli cheered us with high-neck Victoriana silhouettes and long swingy dresses in potentially (but not actually) clashing combinations of pink and red in jazzy patterns of mystical motifs and numerology inspired by the Memphis Group of Pop Art. The sheer loveliness of the collection was enough to drown out the world of politics only a few blocks away.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/blue-formal-dresses
M Lundy Sep 2012
come on, Natalie,
there's a heart in there somewhere.
we watched "Moulin Rouge"
and you begged me to sing to you.

now, five years later, i'm sorry.
i know i missed your wedding,
but i just couldn't bring myself to watch
you give yourself to someone else.
you called me during the reception
wanting me to ******* in the church kitchen.
that was the nicest thing you ever did.
now i can hate you.
Copyright 2012 M.E. Lundy
5 | 31 Poems for August 2016

I’m catching feelings, hope you don’t leave and go catch airplanes.
When the universe aligned, our paths and hearts were destined to collide.
You still give my comfort zone endless earthquakes; I wonder how much that is on the Richter scale.
Let me love you unconditionally regardless of how ugly your truths are.
In a sky full of constellations, you know that you’ll always be my favourite star.
It doesn’t matter whether it’s winter or summer, when you are the breeze I can never forget to breathe.
I’ve been digging the soles of my shoes into the ground just to keep myself steady and balanced.
I stood in the rain patiently awaiting your arrival but then, I eventually realised that you were the rain.
Looking forward to the day where your body and mine finally merge into one.
The day when we finally find home and we never ever feel alone because love is all around.
The day when we are able to look back at all the greatness we have both become.
Look me in my starry eyes and tell me that everything will be okay.
I can’t give you the world but I pray that you stay for more than just another day.
I’m Lonnie Lynn with the poetry, Marsha and Natalie with the Floetry.
So all you got to do is say yes if the question is, “Will you be mine from this day onwards?”
I don’t have much but I have you and with God on my side, how can I lose?
When the universe aligned, our paths and hearts were destined to collide.
I’m catching feelings, hope you don’t leave and go catch airplanes because my heart is really growing fond of you.
Falling in love with someone is a beautiful thing. Becoming so in love that you never want them to leave.
Ruben Hayward Jul 2015
Pain
  Pain
Pain
  Pain
Pain.
Pain,
Pain
Pain
(Pain)
  Pain--
Pain
        Pain

Pain
    Pain
Pain pain painpainpain
  Pain pain pain
Pain pain
   Pain.
Pain with pain
  Pine and pain
    And sick
Pain-Ill death-clock
Tick tick ticks
   Nothing to say
    Anymore
Pain pain. Pain
  Pain with feathers
      How pain and why pain
  And will be and never was pain
   Pain in your shoes,
In a shower
  On a floor
Pain
  In a garden
Pain
   With your tea
Pain in your eye
As you drive
   Along
We must be terrible
  We must be heinous
Viscous, meticulous,
   We are not.
But pain pain pain
   I.  Can not sleep
As they sanction drone
Strikes on children
   I. can not sleep
     As a
Ghostly ether summons
Across lakes in dream
   I. Can't think
      I. can feel like a Cyprus
Upon a grave
  Love love love
Love love love love
Love love love love
   Death exists
Life is in brief moments
    Where the dead
Drag in front of you
Bleeding, broken
Forever lost in this abyss
  Grafted from a tree
In another world
Oh, my love.
   Oh my love,
As I know it true
  In bent knees at dawn
Whispers evermore in my ear
   Beyond graves and atom bombs
     Test pilots
Test tubes
   Test
Pain in your chest
  In your mouth
Rotted flesh
Rotted fits of aging
  Agony which
Is pain, exquisite
Like a needle
Precise like
  A
Nuclear accident
  I. Can't sleep
As things fly above my head
   My eye
Leaving me in the dark
Leaving me in a tub
Leaving me in a gas task
    Mustard gas and Venus
Drowned in calm water
  Out, out, out,
Number 1.
  Nitrous oxide
Psalms, palms,
  Save little girls
  In dresses know
   As I walk by a snowglobe  
    Oh, my love
  How
I am sick of questions with an
Answer I know
But not quite
Not, quite
   And death will solve
All power
  Like forks
In an outlet
   u r a beautiful dawn
At sunset
  My eyes are tired
   It needs to heal
It needs to heal
   D. E. A. (D)  
In a straw or dollar
O.K.
oh, Kay
   Oh, Natalie
I dot the "I" in your
  Name in my brain
In my bones leaving me
Aloft in dream,
   I dream and weep
I dream and weep
  Pain
Pain
  Pai. N.
Kiev
Leaving
  Pain
Pain. Pain. no. 1
always one to garnish wounds with cyanide (and a hint of sage), the Poet insists here that love is the inverse of pain--the same side of the two coins. Or, as the French would say, in a rather English idiom: To get ****** with two birds.
natalie anderson Mar 2013
deadbeat
by Natalie Elizabeth (Notes) on Thursday, April 7, 2011 at 10:42am

the knowledge i hold

neatly stacked inside my head

makes me want to *****

and laugh my *** off

disgusted

smells nasty like moonshine

fermented

rotten

taste bites the back of my throat

pulling up unwillingly, bile

clear bitter bile

turn my head and casually spit

**** kid you make me sick

but all i can do is laugh

pitiful

it came down to this
natalie anderson Mar 2013
not suicidal lol
by Natalie Elizabeth (Notes) on Friday, February 4, 2011 at 3:49am

plotting my own demise

waiting to be surprised

tired of all the lies

watching as he dies

you meant everything

staring at the sun

sun spots clouding my vision

red haze

fury and rage

locked in this eternal cage

anger so high i cannot gage

if looks could ******* ****

as i take the next handful of pills

thinking of you makes me ill

scraping my fist against your grill

i dont know what to think of you

holding my breath turning blue

you used to be my steadfast glue

i should have expected this

its nothing new

i love to hate

and

i hate to love

am i holding on to only wisps?

you in my mind is something ive missed

there yet unattainable

i cant count on you to remain stable

whats a girl supposed to do?

when she constantly comes unglued

due to only you?
cleo Jan 13
i look for you in the faces on the street
i ache for you in the songs that i sing

an out i didn't take
the memories unmade
a life we didn't live

he hurt me
but i hurt you
that's just the way it is
Nat Lipstadt May 2017
sheesh Eliot,
half the poets miffed at your
unintended deriding,
but sexism in poetry a knife made
from a man's rib dividing, again?
too cruel to contemplate for defending

perhaps the site hijacked by the NSA,
doing the bidding of ten old white men?

as recompense go to thy server,
code in an alternating name starting today,
ShePo somehow springs to mind

Mother's Day an excellent commencement
to begin our regendering

P. S. everybody knows I am a girl, right?

It occurs to me,
perhaps not everybody aware
of the inside joke,
the e-joke,
Nat is short for
Natalie
veritas Nov 2018
im wrapping these lights around the balustrade? of my stairs and i thought they looked beautiful but now that
im stepping off my chair they
don't look that nice um
they look sloppy and tacky
like the ones off the side of a Mexican restaurant
i wonder how natalie portman decorates her christmas lights.
they must be nice.
i used tape
she probably gets someone else to stick it up anyways but
the tape is pretty when the light hits it and the
colors blend and stutter like it's trying to short circuit the tape but
the tape is swimming in it even though there
is only light in glass in light
i stick the tape on the wall.
there is something psychedelic about holding a handful of rainbow lights alone on a chair until they start spilling over and you tilt your neck to see where they go but
there is only the ground there is only the ground there is no where to fall into but
the light is moving again because
you are the tape
and you are standing on the chair where the glass blooms with filaments that you
touch and suddenly you are
swimming in colors that don't seem sloppy and tacky anymore.
you pull the plug.
the house is bright again.
...i really was hanging lights
nick armbrister Feb 2018
Natalie. Basic
Basic flight training was like dancing to The Elementals. Basic, scary and fun. Did Nat know that in a year she would be at the controls of a deadly multi million dollar warplane in the wrong war, with the wrong enemy? No amount of gothic looks would appease her situation over the coming months. Was it all real? That was a distant question, not for now.

The girl danced and flew with equal passion and ferocity. Her brown hair was all over her face and she danced like a spinning airplane. Eyes shut, she was somewhere else. In her mind, she was in the cockpit of her red coloured training plane. Her flight instructor, Alberto, allowed Natalie to acrobat the little plane. She flew it with wildness that surprised everyone, including her.

Rolling upside down and pulling the control stick to her guts, the red airplane moved like a kid’s toy. Diving straight downwards, picking up speed. Alberto was going to take over before top speed was reached but Nat second guessed him and pulled back into a half loop. Up they went into the blue, a hawk in the heavens. Free. Natalie screamed in joy. Looking over at Alberto, her smile said it all. She was a born pilot.

When the record changed, Nat went to the bar and ordered a glass of red wine. Joining her friends, they chatted on guys, music and Nat’s new air force career. Several of her friends had nice boyfriends or lovers with them. In close embraces, they kissed and made small talk. Nat chatted to Katie, on the fundamentals of aerobatics and flight, demonstrating how to loop and roll with her hand. Her other held her wine. Time passed, music played, wine was drunk and Nat slow danced with Roberto.

Being Catholic and part of a close knit family, the girl was a bit of a rebel. Her mother wanted Natalie to marry and have children. Nat was having none of this; it was music, flying and the air force. Not even men like handsome Roberto swayed the girl for marriage. He was local and conscripted in the army. His passion was films and he had to give up college to serve his country. After a year he would finish off his film studies, if fate allowed. Both were friends and occasional lovers, now they danced in Sacha’s.
Tori D Dec 2013
You look at me like you're dreaming.
Like I'm your personal Jesus.
Like I've been sent to begin you,
to start you again.
You look at me like I'm a ray of sun,
like you've never seen something so
transcendental.
Like, 'I could die right now.'
Why?
Why am I that to you?
How can I be that to you?
I'm not that.
I'm pretty, but not Natalie Portman,
smart, but not Stephen Hawking,
kind, but not Mother Theresa,
talented, but not YoYo Ma.
So why are you looking at me like that?




Quit looking at me like that.

— The End —