Dead Ringer

As Janey’s coffin was lowered onto the ground Adam Graham looked away. The funeral had a been a small affair, twenty-five people showed up. An 8 year relationship was now over and buried into the ground, along with his dreams. No, their dreams to move forward. There would never be a white wedding in the Himalayas now or a  house made from wood and glass in front of the beach. Adam did not want to talk to anyone so he decided to excuse himself and search for his car. He just hated funerals.  

Adam picked up the pace. Once he got in, he began to search for a small flask filled with something called “fireball” a warm orangish liquid that burned the throat. Adam took a few quick sips to steady himself and put the metal flask back into the glove-box. After what seemed like a long time his mom knocked on the window to be let in. She took off the black feathered mess that sat on top of her head, buckled up and was ready to go home.  Flora lived in Veudreuil-Dorian,. A suburban in greater Montreal. It was home to approximately 38,000 people and was a great place to raise a family. It was a small looking house that had three bedrooms, 2 baths and a newly renovated basement complete with sound-proofing walls, and a bar. Flora got out of the car and quickly started for the steps of her house. After fetching a brassy looking key underneath a false rock, the old woman walked inside.  
She shed out her clothes and locked herself inside the bathroom. Water and wine always made her feel better. Her son opted for the same thing except he hid another flask, this time full of Jack Daniels. No one felt like cooking that night so Adam dialed for pizza along with other fried favourites, in an attempt to eat away at his sadness. It did not help very much but he went to bed around 1 am while his mom stayed back. Flora sneakily  logged onto Adams navy blue HP laptop  and surfed the net for a bit. Tonight she was not looking through her emails or shopping for planters Flora was going to make multiple profiles of her son on various dating sites like Ok Cupid, eHarmony and maybe even Tinder. She could not find too many that suited her but his had to be done. She uploaded a recent picture of Adam, one taken during her 55th birthday party. She had typed out the following onto his profile

“ A scorpion 38 year author looking for friendship romance and fun in a woman who loves to go out long walks, eat thai food, read religiously and save the world one day at a time”

It was 4:42 AM and something went “ding” multiple times in his room. Adam sat up in bed and reached for his Iphone.

“ What the—’’ Multiple requests were coming in from Ok Cupid, Tinder and something called the Escape Adam rubbed his eyes and dismissed everything. He was not ready to date! not even the women his mother approved of.

“Good morning mom, Is there anything you want to tell me” “

Flora had her back to him and was busy frying something on the stove. The kitchen smelled like fresh batter, fruits and coffee”
Adam got straight the point.

“ I do not want to date any time soon Ma, I am going to take this time to work on my latest manuscript and see where that takes me, so don’t bother introducing me to any of your friends daughters or nieces.

Flora sighed and piled his plate with food. He ate in a hurry because he wanted some peace and quiet. He was going to drive to the nearest Starbucks and spend the remainder of his day there.
Adam walked out of the house and towards the car. He was about open the car door, when a 5’4 amber haired, doe eyed woman blocked the way.

He had no time for this but she looked like she had all the time in the world.

“ Hi are you Adam Graham? ”

“ Yes I am and I have no—”

I am  Nicole and I noticed your profile on Escape this morning. I was hoping that we could talk or go out for coffee”

“Get in” Adam gestured towards his car.

Nicole squealed and talked non- stop till they got to Starbucks.
Niciole was 29. They had gone to the same high school. She completed university in Toronto in Psychology, masters as well and was now working as counsellor for people who suffer from eating disorders, addictions and ****** trauma.  She ordered the drinks and he found the perfect table but something told him he was not going to get much writing done today. She was very talkative and made him laugh. Over the course of the next few hours, well until closing time. Nicole and Adam talked about everything. There was just something about her that put him to ease, she was very insightful and pretty too… Adam got to know that she was into water sports, loved to travel like he did, had fostered a kitten and wrote in her spare time.  

There must have been something in the coffee because Adam let Nicole know about Janey. She didn’t say anything but left him, her number. It was 10pm when they departed. Adam was feeling better and he had agreed to meet Nicole again the next morning.
Flora was no where to be seen the next morning, She left a note saying that she was busy with a friend and hoped that Nicole was worth his time. His mom had done research on the girl after she pried every detail out of him last night.

Nicole decided to see him that morning. She wore no make up and had on a lilac coloured dress. Janey loved lilacs. They had brunch at “Allo mon Coco” Adam settled for crab cakes Benedict and she happily munched her way through a tower of apple and cheddar pancakes.  Janey loved the combination of apples and cheddar too.. after brunch Nicole and Adam spent the next few hours at a flea market looking at bits and pieces of practically everything.
Adam went straight to the booth that sold movies and books and Nicole was skimming through romance novels and necklaces. At the end, Adam bought all the DVDs to underworld and she a necklace made from black pearls.
Adam paid for the necklace and dropped her home.

Nicole and Adam had become a couple at this point and they spent as much time as possible. Date night now happened 3 times a week and she was slowly helping him overcome his grief. Adam believed that he will always love Janey, but it felt nice to have her presence around.  Nicole in return hoped that he really and truly liked her. She never liked Janey very much but she was determined to become a better woman then dead Janey. Nicole paid attention whenever he spoke very fondly of his wife with that look in his eyes and took notes on what she was like.
Nobody liked it when she was herself, but maybe Adam will like it if she was more like Janey.

After 6 months of dating Nicole texted Adam to meet her at Le Colbert, An Italian restaurant.  He did not ask any questions. Life was great, his mom finally stopped pestering him, she approved of her and his book was really coming along. It was about two lovers who died a tragic death but meet again in the afterlife. He dedicated it to Janey.

Adam got there at 8:00 and she walked in at 8:05. Adam did not know what to say. Nicole had changed into somebody else. She dyed her auburn hair black, wore grey contacts, had on a leather dress that brought attention to her assets and walked around in a pair of black platforms. Nicole looked exactly like Jamey when he first brought her here six years ago. He was suddenly feeling very nervous but she looked confident as hell. She kissed him on the lips and opened the bottle of wine.  She had already ordered “Surf N Turf” for him

She filled up his glass with Sauvignon Blanc and then hers, repeatedly.

“Do you like it Adam?” Nicole asked

“ I have liked you for so long but I couldn’t tell you that night, you brought Janey in here and I served you that evening. You were going to ask her to marry you and all I could do was just watch.” So I left Montreal that same night and decided to only come back after I’ve made something of myself” I’ve lost all that weight, people notice me now and I know you like me too” This was how it was meant to be …

Adam gulped down the wine in seconds and felt very dizzy, he was suddenly experiencing chest pains and his heart was racing

“Are you alright darling?”

Her voice sounded very distant and then everything went still.

the day when my uncle ray became sunday rose kidman urban




you see when my uncle ray pocock died in 2006, buddha was having a hard time trying to put him in

another family, and then uncle ray asked cronus to force keith urban to have *** with niciole kidman

to create a new life, and ray has been trying to search for a way to enter nicole’s body, it was like a

blessing for my uncle ray, you see my grandma who died in 2004, 2 years before ray, decided to

hold a sunday roast when her family went to bed, you see they had methane plants and chicken

and potatoes, and uncle ray decided to die and enjoy this sunday roast of the cosmos, ya know like help make it

and my grandma said, ray, how about when you reenter this world, your earth bodies name will be sunday rose

but you will force barry to hate the name, trying to explain that it sounds like sunday roast, which is cooked by me

and then my grandma invited cronus and buddha and athena to the sunday roast, so that uncle ray can be reincarnated

into nicole’s ******, with the help of keith and when they did the initial bit, it was a good wait, and then in 2008, sunday rose

was born, and it was ray pocock, and ray brought on the roast in her name, sure ray is a girl in his current life, but whether

he is a she or vice versa, it doesn’t matter, you see from the day that sunday was born and then named, this was going to

be a bumpy ride, seeing that ray pocock was a reverend, and died to be apart of the celebrity life, you see from that day ray and

my grandma has been hosting a big nightie conference with the whole family, to reform violence in the family unit, and ray brought

barry allan up there to get him to change the way he talks to brian, and also ray would invite nicole and keith in to meet his

previous life’s family, you see as nicole and keith are preparing to be good parents to their two kids sunday and faith, and ray

was given a job as our family’s joining, so he can make sure we are alright, and that is why sunday rose, is just walking around with keith and

nicole instead of being big youtube junkies, you see they were famous, but they wanted to be there for sunday and faith, for every turn

of their lives, ray was brought toward nicole in a party on jupiter and they bonded, just like mother and daughter, and ray went to buddha

and said, i want to be nicole kid man’s daughter, i want to learn how a famous person goes about living their lives, i like to bring barry allan

closer to liking the famous way of life, and i want to be named sunday roast, and force barry to get puzzled, so the name was not very long away

as the name was sunday rose and then ray was given the new life and buddha and cronus said i now pronounce nicole and keith’s new daughter

as sunday rose kidman urban and in the rose, r meaning ray and o as the second letter of pocock, but nicole and keith has a better meaning to the word

rose, and now sunday rose is 7 years of age, and ray pocock is considering himself the new GOD, flying around keeping all the families together, but the

problem is, families aren’t perfect as we are still having kids being kidnapped and people being stabbed or murdered, and ray has a lot to do

and another thing ray wants to do, is reform brian allan, by getting into his mind and telling people what is going on, even if it destroys other families

but if it destroys the family, ray explains to brian to write with a messed up brain, so you don’t reveal much about what cronus is doing, but if it makes

you as messed up as a hooligan, you must tell, and expect people not to like it, and then ray said, he is the NEW GOD, he is trying to keep domestic violence

and aggression out of his old family, now every time a picture of sunday rose goes on the internet, you can feel that ray pocock is at peace, you see sunday

is enjoying her life on earth, and i suggest to nicole and keith, that they have a little angel amongst them, and this was the sort of angel to lure brian away from

his old mate, because he was too negative, and from that moment  brian’s mate was getting panic attacks, and ray and ivy forced brian not to help him, as

he was a little negative ****, and he needed to stand on his own two feet, as ray got another mate to tease him and getting another mate to make ******* comments

driving him mad, and ray knew this was a hard job, so he made brian rave on about sunday rose and forced a conversation about when celebrities have babies

and then ray teased my mate, by making him think he controlled the world, to, i don’t know, lure him away from brian, because brian was trying to keep positiveness

with his mate, and then as it was hard to get his new mate out of his life, ray pocock forced an old friend to tease brian in his mind, treating brian like a little negative ****

to get rid of his negative friend, so that ray, can enjoy life as sunday rose and ivy can enjoy life as annie from brattayley and lucky can be baby **** and barry can enjoy life

as betty campbell, and not worry about, brian’s stupid mate unleashing his negativity onto brian, because what ray was thinking, brian would be positive without his mate

constantly around sprouting negativity in his head, and hopefully find out what brian really wants to do to keep positive, and one thing brian likes to do, is write out his hooligan

and cronus is a hooligan, because he is old, and brian needs to tell us all what is going on with cronus, to clear his mind, and one thing is, to never have brian and his mate dan

walk past and ray pocock is watching over his old family as well as watching over his new earth body sunday rose

At the mailbox, again:
“Who loves me, baby?”
Well, let’s see: there’s a flyer from Mercury Insurance,
Reminding me that most middle-income customers
Save an average of $4 million smackaroons when they switch too.
The Penny Saver USA.com is here,
Thank God, almighty!
So now I know that Thomas Roofing & Paving
Is having a special on 20-year leak-free flat roofs;
"All work guaranteed & insured.
No job too big or small.
Free estimates/Emergency services/License # I8U-69."
And thank you, Jesus,
For another $4.99 Farmer Boys 3-Egg Breakfast
Combo with Coffee coupon, and that
Little Caesars Hot-N-Ready, $5.00 cheese or pepperoni,
Mae-West-“why-don’t-you-come up and see me sometime?”—mailer. And, of course, another technology Siren’s song:
Verizon FiOS delivers entertainment this big,
Dish me up some dish NETWORK, $19.99 a month . . .
Are you ******* me?
For 12 ******* months?
AT&T;: whack me off on 120 channels.
DIRECTV.com - DIRECTV® Official Site‎
Worry-free 99.9%  . . . cue Joe E. Brown,
"Some Like It Hot“ Osgood:
"Well, nobody’s perfect!"
Time Warner/Sprint/T-Mobile;
And ******* Leather, Polk Street, San Francisco.
******* leather?
Must be for my neighbor: that ***** ****!
And here’s the weekly 8-page color fold-out from Stater Bros:
Lowering prices every day, large cantaloupes
(Jessica Lange, are you back?)
10 for $10.00, 32 oz. Gatorade
Or 24 oz Propel in 30 assorted varieties @ 79 cents
+ CRV: California Redemption Value?
Nice euphemistic cover-up for a TAX.
Nice, nice, very nice, CA elected state officials;
Nicely done, Sacramento.
Everywhere else in the country you get real money—
A fixed number of pennies, nickels, or dimes—
For your plastic bottles and aluminum cans.
But in California, the licensed recyclers
Get to pull the market price out of their *** each morning.
California Redemption Value?
What ******* genius government kleptocrat thought that one up? Conspiracy Alert: who gets all that CRV money?
And what are they doing with it?
Feeling plain, Jane?
Marinello Schools of Beauty, want you,
Offer you hands-on training in cosmetology,
Skin care esthetics, manicuring and vaginal deodorizing—
Just kidding, Babaloo.
Food tip for the Third World:
Never try to write poetry on an empty stomach.
Sizzler 6 oz juicy & succulent.
RENEGADE DEAL:
El Pollo Loco guacamole chicken sandwich,
Coupon free, small drink and small chips,
When you purchase a guacamole or jalapeno sandwich,
includes pepper jack cheese and a southwest sauce.
Gardenas sandia con semilla, 7 lbs 99 cents.
GARDENAS: “en precios, servicio y calidad, nadie nos iguaia.”
Bud Gordon’s Quality NISSAN:
One at this price after a $1500 factory rebate.
TERMINIX: get them before they get you!
The Kingdom Animalia, Phylum Arthropoda, Class Insecta
Bug up my *** again.
And a form letter from the VA
Asking me to please update my whereabouts.
And a form letter from the VA asking me
To please update my whereabouts.
And miles to go before I sleep.
Bite me, Mr. Frost!

An outing, at last.
I am going for a walk around the inside of my gates.
I live in one of those gated over-55 lunatic asylums.
There are gates. It is gated. Get it?
GATED! We feel safe here.
Probably a good thing at our age:
Self-imposed institutionalization,
Putting oneself in an asylum to ferment and die.
The fact that so many of us
Need it so bad at only 55
Says something itself about the current state of
Baby Boomer metal-fatigue.
I am now standing at the far end of the golf course.
I wait at the far end of the 18th Hole.
A ball bounces past my head and
Rolls off past the green into the far rough.
The 18th Hole is perched atop a small plateau,
Out of sight, far above the horizon for anyone teeing off.
I am Puck, invisible and impish.
I pluck the ball up.
I scamper to the green.
I pop the ball into the hole.
Which is better than popping a hole in the ball,
Surely, kind of a drag,
As we were once fond of saying.
Deflated Ball.
Deflator Maus.
OPERA can be ****.
Bodice-ripping corsets, whorehouses and naked ******!
Hardly what you might expect from
A night with the Welsh National Opera,
But they found their way into this production of "Die Fledermaus."
Ripe language, contemporary jokes and
Toilet humor thrown in, adding immensely
To the pleasures of Strauss’s operetta.
"Die Fledermaus," or The Bat’s Revenge,
Is all about drunkenness and adultery.
Despite being written in the 1870s,
It remains equally pertinent to today’s pub culture of excess.
Daring; Colorful; ****: PGA golf.
I steal a golf ball on the far end of the 18th Hole.
I pick up the Titleist and stick it in the hole
(Steady Jessica, not yours.
I hide behind your bush.
(Cue up PSA, First Lady Bird Johnson’s 1960s
Nationwide Beautification Campaign:
“I want everyone in America to plant a tree,
A sherrrr-rub, or a booosh.”)
The golfer now searching frantically:
Why is the cup always the last place they look?
Then, wham, bam, he looks:
A legend is born.
A hole in one,
His name forever immortalized
On a plaque over the bar, the proverbial 19th Hole.

As you know, I speak for all mediocrities,
Safe in my 55+ gated-community.
I go next to the Club House,
"The Lodge" as it’s called.
Each afternoon, the usual suspects
Claiming first come/first serve tiered mini-theater seats
Where Netflix matinee gems are screened.
It is two minutes to DVD show time.
I walk to the front of the room.
I stare at my audience.
I count the house slowly,
Making meaningful eye contact with each wrinkled face.
I cup my hands behind my back and speak:
“I assume you are all here for my lecture on Kierkegaard.”
No one reacts.
I turn to leave but do a double-take and smile.
One old woman in the top right corner of the amphitheater laughs, Perhaps the one other human being within the gates
Who has also smoked a joint today.
For an instant, I am overwhelmed with paranoia,
Perhaps I’ve gone too far over the line:
No longer “oh-he’s-a-character;”
I am now “that creep is ******* nuts.”
Is it time for someone to approach my family,
My next of kin, my “who-to-contact-in-event-of-emergency” number? Who will make the call on behalf of the HOA—
The Homeowner’s Association—
The Tsars, the Duma, the Supreme Soviet in these parts?
They are the power inside the gates;
Those who determine the state’s enemies,
Who govern its community norms.
Power within the gates.
Law within the asylum.
Little Hitlers one and all.
Hopefully they reach my sister first.
She’s been briefed.
KEY POINT IN THE NARRATIVE:
The new narrative is non-linear.
We can no longer sustain a narrative understanding of ourselves;
We are each an individual stream of consciousness,
All of us random, non-linear and disconnected.
We grow more and more disconnected from others.
We may be neighbors in space and time,
But we remain deprived of any significant human contact;
Any spiritually significant human contact.
Our social circle narrows to what can fit in The Telescreen;
We become more intimate with a legion . . .
Did someone say a legion? SPQR:
Am I having some sort of genetic-linguistic seizure here?
Am I channeling Benito Mussolini again?
Il Duce speaks to me from the grave,
Still blowing smoke up my Hopi-Jew-*** ***,
Filling in my insecurities,
Plugging the holes in my character
With delusions of classical Roman grandeur, glory and empire. Hmmmm? Quite an appetizing pitch for the average *****,
A message so completely, so ethnocentrically slick,
Olive oily, and so seductive.
A non-Italian would have thought
American Legion or Legionnaire’s disease,
Or The Foreign Legion, The French Foreign Legion.
The French: a virulent, promiscuous people.
Do you want fries with that, Simone?
No, I don’t get out much.
Only an occasional brisk walk around the asylum,
In and around the golf course, around but inside the gates. (LINKS) Bill Gates. Daryl Gates. Billy Bathgate’s Gates? Ghiberti’s Gates? The Hot Gates? Thermopylae? 300 Spartans/700 Thespians:
“The noun causing idiots to think of
Two girls sloppily eating each other’s mighty vaginas,
When they hear mention of someone being an actor.” http://www.urbandictionary.com
Not even close.
No, I rarely venture out.
This is Hemetucky.
There are methamphetamine-stoked
Teenage zombies at the gate.
Note to costume control:
Perhaps camouflage clothing is the safe choice?
No loud red Hawaiian.
No garish Indonesian batik.
Fleet of feet are these Hemet tweakers,
These cranked up Riverside County teenage barbarians,
These Huns & Visigoths,
These amped up, ravenous jackals.
And why stop there?
These Vandals & Vandellas.
A Motown flashback:
“Nowhere to run, baby, nowhere to hide.”
With or without Martha—
They remain dangerously lethal.
Yes, let it be camo clothes for me.
Those **** heads may be young.
They may be fast.
They may be able to run me down
On a dry grass dog-legged fairway savannah,
Tearing the meat from my carcass.
But the sons-a-******* have to see me first.
Besides, we know who are real friends are.
Hooray for our media peeps!
We become more intimate with a legion
Of television personalities on 125 different channels.
Most of these we know by name and context.
We know their families, their friends,
Their histories, their tragedies,
Their favored hyperbole and manner of speech.
Sometimes we establish intimacy with celebrities
Strictly on the basis of universal body language.
At times–in the absence of any other
Empathetic facility of identification–
We connect on instinct alone.
Instinct: perhaps animal at its core,
An animal kingdom affinity group,
Connecting on a bio-linguistic level,
Particularly when the Korean, or Spanish,
Mandarin, or Arabic,
Japanese, or even Hebrew language version is broadcast.
All languages cryptically alien,
A dense boundary, a barrio border wall,
Undecipherable, impenetrable concrete.
But we’ve never spoken to our neighbors,
Nor do we know their names.
Celebrities are the neighbors we know best;
Although the intimacy is an illusion,
Permission to invade their privacy presumed,
Tacit in the relationship between celebrities and their fans.
I am an independent contractor now,
An outside consultant to the NSA.
Try as I might I cannot crack the enigma,
Kim Kardashian remains far beyond my code-breaking prowess.
I repeat myself:
We can no longer sustain a narrative understanding of ourselves;
We are each an individual stream of consciousness,
All of us random, non-linear and disconnected.
We are more and more disconnected from others.
We may be neighbors in space and time,
But we remain deprived of any significant human contact;
Any spiritually significant human contact.
Our social circle narrows to what can fit in The Telescreen; we become more intimate with a legion . . .
Back to you, David Ulin:
“Sometime late last year—I don’t remember when, exactly—I noticed I was having trouble sitting down to read. That’s a problem if you do what I do, but it’s an even bigger problem if you’re the kind of person I am. Since I discovered reading, I have always been surrounded by stacks of books. I read my way through camp, school, nights, and weekends; when my girlfriend and I backpacked through Europe after college graduation, I had to buy a suitcase to accommodate the books I picked up along the way.”
Thank you, David L. Ulin.
I cannot help myself.
I grow more eccentric each day.
My eyeballs glued to that flat screen!

Cosmo Kramer: "The bus is outta control.
So I grab him by the collar, I take him out of the seat,
I get behind the wheel, and now I’m driving the bus."
Jerry: "Wow!"
George Costanza: "You’re Batman."
Cosmo Kramer: "Yeah, yeah, I am Batman.
Then the mugger, he comes to and he starts choking me.
So I’m fighting him off with one hand,
And I kept driving the bus with the other, ya know.
Then I managed to open up the door,
And I kicked him out the door, ya know,
With my foot, ya know, at the next stop."
Jerry: "You kept making all the stops?"
Cosmo Kramer: "Well, people kept ringing the bell!"
(Share this moment with a stranger.)

I speak for all mediocrities.
I am their champion, their patron saint.
Boom Chaka Laka. Boom Chaka Laka.
Boom Chaka Laka. BOOM!
Isn’t it time Salieri tempted Constanze–
Frau Mozart–with a plateful of Capezzoli di Venere:
“******* of Venus.”
You had me at hello, Kidman.
I know you too well, Nicole.
I knew you from before,
Way before Tom’s Oprah couch freak show.
Listen to me, Nicole:
We are face to face
With the most profound question in American literature:
"What is the grass?
The flag of my surrender?
The flag of my disposition?"
I resort to Socratic maxims: Know yourself;
The un-****** life is not worth living.
Is it stress? Is it lack of conviction?
Everything Jeff Lebowski neither wants nor needs in his life?
I watched you *** in "Eyes Wide Shut," Nicole.
Now I know you with my eyes and your legs wide open.
Thank you, Sidney Pollack.
Sidney knew.
Sidney dealt us cards
From his Hollywood Tarot deck.
We are intimate, Nicole.
I watched you squat.

Her poem
"Take Me Home"
Meant so much to me

How I have often wondered
Why my life is
The way it is

As I wander the streets of my city

I am a lover of the light
Whether it be daylight
Or moonlight

I would walk a 1,000 miles
Just to see a glimpse
Of her smile

To be honest Nicole
You are incredibly beautiful

I hope you find someone
Worthy of you
Someone to treasure you

I would gladly be your scribe
Recording your words
Of wisdom
On parchment if I could

Nicole
You are a true Goddess
In every sense of the word

I bow down before you
The most beautiful women
Of the ages
Cannot compare
To your radiance

Truly, A Goddess
In every sense of the word
Thank you
For your beautiful poetry

She's been enjoying her time while living and working in London.

And Nicole Kidman was clearly thrilled to be one of the star guests at The 60th Women Of The Year Luncheon & Awards in the British capital on Monday afternoon.

The 48-year-old actress - who is currently starring in West End play Photograph 51 - cut a beautiful figure in a multi-tonal lace dress as she arrived at the prestigious event, held at the InterContinental London Park Lane.

The willowy beauty covered her slim figure in the mid-length dress, made up of several different lace panels in pale lilac, purple, yellow, black and white.

Cinching in at her slender waistline, the dress billowed out into a full A-line skirt, and also included long sleeves.

A Victoriana-style high-necked black lace section finished off the gorgeous garment, giving her a serene, ladylike air.

The Australia actress teamed the eye-catching dress with a pair of strappy black heels with pointed toes, and a tiny black box clutch.

Her pale red locks were swept back into a chic updo, her mid-length fringe framing her face.

The actress' bright blue eyes were highlighted with just a touch of mascara, and her beauty look was pulled together with a pretty pink shade on her lips.

Nicole was one of many star guests at the annual central London event, held to honour amazing women across all industries.

The famous event, which paid special tributes to six remarkable women from all fields, saw plenty of other star guests in attendance, with 400 in total at the luncheon.

After rising to fame as the winner of this year's The Great British Bake Off, Nadiya Hussain was one of the star attendees at the highly-significant ceremony.

The talented baker and busy mum, 30, rocked a simple and chic ensemble of slim-fitting black trousers and a crisp blue blazer, and bright turquoise heels.

Another familiar face was singer/songwriter Katie Melua, who opted for a cool androgynous ensemble.

The Call Off The Search hitmaker showed off her lovely long legs in a pair of black leather trousers, teamed with a sheer white blouse, a blazer and a cute black ribbon ******* around the collar.

Writer-comedian-actress Meera Syal rocked a typically unconventional ensemble as she arrived, cutting a striking figure in a bold patterned shirt dress with a lovely long black scarf and a jacket thrown over the top.

Princess Diana's glamorous niece Lady Kitty Spencer channelled a power-dressing 1980s vibe in a standout black shirt dress with bright, colourful buttons donw the front.

The pretty blonde finished her luncheon look with a chunky white clutch bag and perspex heels.

Choreographer and former Strictly Come Dancing star Arlene Phillips was a chic addition to the guest list in a figure-hugging red dress, and TV presenter and journalist Julie Etchingham wowed in an understated taupe dress with an origami-folded skirt and matching cropped jacket.

Also in attendance were the likes of Dame Esther Rantzen, TV's Lorraine Kelly - who was glorious in a gold lace frock - Maureen Lipman, Mary Nightingale, Jo Brand and

The Women of the Year winners were whittled down and chosen by a panel of notable, accomplished women: Sandi Toksvig CBE, Sue MacGregor CBE, Dame Tessa Jowell MP, Baroness Doreen Lawrence OBE, Jane Luca, Ronke Phillips, Eve Pollard OBE, Lisa Markwell, Gill Carrick and Sue Walton.

And viewers of popular morning programme, ITV's Lorraine, were also able to vote for their Inspirational Woman of the Year via a phone poll.

Sandi, President of the Women of the Year Awards, said: 'Women of the Year has celebrated the wonderful achievements of women since 1955.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/mermaid-trumpet-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth

(This is a group poetry slam. The bolded lines are said in unison. I was in charge of the "yellow" sections)

A technicolor finish tainting paint on hate drenched signs
Alex: picketing picking away bits of lips, slicing silence into arms and hips
rainbows were not always so black and blue
Brigitte: yanked from the sky by a brood of vipers, dragged through mud and fire, pummeled until we see double.
Nicole: Poison placed on children’s tongues, “******” never tasted as sour as when describing
Audrey: translucent half circles shamed into not showing their true colors
Allie: We hide the private parts of ourselves, but what if our sheer existence clouds some sets of eyes with rage?
Even the speed of light can’t escape lids clenched tight like fists.  

Red
Brigitte: First crush is a hot sweat and perpetual throat lump
Molten shame gurgling beneath the tender flesh of your candy apple cheeks
Stains memory like spilled red wine
She was intoxicating
Red flecked rosacea readily recalls
Her name a cherry aftertaste, berry sweet yet crimson thirsty
red is the color of metamorphosis. of hormones misbehaving. of flushed ******* and a wish dancing on another girl’s lips.
Of bullseyes tattooed on wrists
Red is a warning of children’s taunts and old, wary eyes. It is the hue of thought blind hatred

Orange
Allie: The shade of autumn leaves slowly passing on
Grim reminders of slowly approaching school hallways that sneer taunts
Orange the color of names thrown into aching ears
******
Thrown into breaking hearts
Queer
Thrown into minds full of orange flickering bonfires of shame
Orange
The color of beautiful things slowly dying

Yellow
Alex: Like the caution signs on winding roads
Barely illuminated when the sky is too dark
Seen too late before a crash
Twisted metal ringing in our ears like
Twisted thoughts ringing in our ears like
When we recognize a crush that sets us apart
That tells us we're
Not normal, not right
Like fading bruises as we tell ourselves
That we're just yellow bellied cowards
As we tell ourselves
That on straight roads we wouldn't crash
And with straight hearts we wouldn't bleed

Green
Nicole: I feel sick
“A little green around the gills”
as I swim away is that why I’m drowning
in these murky waters of
“What if”s and “i don’t know”s
I have always been certain of the leafy canopies and garden inside of me
but this vine of uncertainty sprouted
and is choking me
I should not feel afraid for what I am because
this life is green and sprouting but there are
forest fires of hate spreading
We see the smoke signals all around us
our magnificent green fading to ashes

Blue and Purple
Audrey: Blue curtains block out the world that lurks just outside
Waiting to hurt me.
8 pm.
Purple dusk is gathering outside my walls
The same way the bruises on my heart threaten to eclipse the sun.
I'm scared.
I don't look at the veins  beneath my skin because they
Remind me too much of the purple-red blood
That spills too often from my arms,
Reminds me of my father's face
Purple with rage
When I told him
9 pm. Navy skies I will not see again
Purple pen writing apologies
Heart pumping blood too fast,
No time,
Can't breathe, face purple,
Can't breathe, face blue
Can't breathe.


They took away our rainbow. Let’s take it back.

Purple and Blue
Audrey: I love the way the sky turns lavender before the sun rises
I love the way your long hair and pale curves look
Against the blue sheets
I love not hiding who we are.
We should get Purple Hearts for all the times
The missiles of queer and butch have landed in
The midst of our embrace,
Launched by an unknown enemy before we were able
To twine our hands and hearts on small-town sidewalks
Laying under the lilac bushes,
Watching the day slip into purple dusk with firefly stars.
I love not hiding who we are.

Green
Nicole: once a cowering seed deep underground
Sprouting up through a crack in the slab of
concrete hate concrete rejection
because fresh life will destroy hate
even if it is slowly, one seed at a time
we are not weeds in your garden
green
a safe place the sun shining
fresh sprouting buds anticipating something beautiful
the prelude to a symphony of colors
green
sprouting from the earth
we do not need to prove that we are not unnatural
but grown from the same soil

Yellow
Alex: Somewhere in the middle of the rainbow like I'm
Somewhere in the middle of the spectrum
Associated with the sun and the stars but
Not with day and night
Because things are never quite as black and white as we make them out to be
Yellow, in the middle of pink and blue on the pansexual flag
Acknowledging that there are people out there
Who could love people like me
And yellow like dandelions
Changing daily into pieces drifting away
To end up regrown in dirt
Just like anything else

Orange
Allie: The shade of sunrise
A beautiful dawn of hope and opportunity
Peeking over the horizon
The passage of time and hopefully some ******* laws
Orange the warmth of a new day pouring some happiness into what once was a seemingly endless night
Orange the color of change

Red
Brigitte: sunshine ray burn cozy in your proud heart
blood rush, fire burst, lovesick intensity smoldering in your eyes
Red is a love fusion ignited inward and radiating out like a star
illuminating the night regardless of how dark the nothing is around it
Red is grown up, a rubicund shamelessness sewn with time into the marrow of your bones
Roll out the red carpet, paint roses on the town
Blood is not only death, it’s also life

Audrey: Acceptance!
Nicole: Life!
Alex: Hope!
Allie: Change!
Brigitte: Love!

**Pride comes in ALL colors

This isn't a poem, just a letter for anyone who cares of the poetess Nicole dawn... Whether you know her or not, she wrote a simple poem yet saddening titled- ( goodbye) all the poem said is " I'm done" ... So for any one who has read this please try messaging her, and support her.. There's another poet, human being. And more importantly a soul's life on the line.. And I see this daily.. Not just with miss dawn but with so many other poet's, who aren't just writing what other poet's consider "depressing poetry". Simply its a suicide note.. Yet others didn't seem to know this. And others may see poems like that daily.. But instead of skipping the poem, remember half of you who were down and out and lonely at one time , and maby suicide even crossed your mind. Wouldn't you want someone there? Some may say no, only due to the fact misery speaks that to one, and demons are good at tempting people to not want to live anymore, though fact is even those that say no I wouldn't want help, NONSENSE!!! we're all soul's, we cry out. We laugh, we love, many cry, some hurt. Some are tortured by very real demons ( not just something in ones head or in stories ) this is reality what's going on.. So instead of passing the next poem you read saying ( goodbye) how about messaging the person saying that, and put aside your issues for the day, and give your self to another.. And your time to them for one second, love is the answer. Not selfishness, not wantonness, not greed. Or all about us. It's about that person's poem you read ( goodbye) the soul you passed by. The poet, a poet like you. That you passed by.... Please give Nicole dawns poem a look. And message her. Because surely, any dying soul would respect and maby still be alive from your message... Thanks for reading, and btw, God wants us to help another, listen to another,love another... Not ****** another with words, or hatred, or envying, or back talking. We can choose to help another, which helps your soul, or we can burden our own souls, and turn away from another soul, that could be you...

God bless,
Brandon Nagley

Earth
Worth
Darth*  777* Goth
Whats worse both
Even Steven Universe
Will I ever find

  *Peace/ Curse

Coming to terms with
Cancer doesn't care
Did Heaven
become
A disease ending up
Absolutely nowhere

Lotto like death
Poison mushroom
Exit button mushroom
Alarm
Claustrophobic
Thanks for space

Comic.com race
Demonic
Shrooming
Baby mushroom
cooing
Fantasy Island of
Alice in Wonderland
mushrooms to chew
Rabbit hole stew
What a mush
washy of lush
Being taken
Stroke of a brush
All our money-losing
Clouds white and brown
chairs
One mans poison Pubs is
cute baby cubs pleasure
Moving Buffy slayer City
Jungle  Jane single
Poison *** in the city
Pollution give me

My London Fog
Poisoning mushroom
The Prince the princess
being kissed by a frog
What! the magic mushroom?
for migraines
Herbal cure
medicinal
remedy taking planes

LSD healing drive
Mushroom for the brain
The Godly tribe


Trees are being
chopped down
Everything from
generation
Handed down
Laughing stock of
Computer clowns
I am not feeling the vibe

Shitake what does it take
Like a fungus
Tasting someone's poison
Mushroom soup he is
wearing his graduate cap
What a mushroom head

Ladies of Venus group
Coastal storm in my
wedding bed

Riders of the storm
Stan the evil door or
Jimmy Morrison
Nicole with her Kidman
Are you kidding me
I am assuming
The good earth
Is being devoured
Every hour I feel
like writing
Who is buying mushrooms
Slivered like a snake
Making room for Go Daddy
Poisonous suits of Grooms

Healing hand is
Godly skywriting
The silence of
the Lamb
Moms Lambchops
Steamed fresh mushrooms
Stranded with most
expensive lipstick
Money withdrawal
My Drugs like a
good book fictional

Only in my dreams
Did I ever see poison
mushrooms
Something is being
planted in my showroom

Artwork Arsenic and lace
Whole place faces of mushrooms
Homemade Butternut squash
Nose of a button mushroom
  Near the vegetable
Stand his hand
lands he started
Eating my mushroom's
Marsala mushroom
sauce
Grilled Chicken and
bacon salad overload
of mushrooms
I never promised you
a rose garden
In our College Dorm
Pool games no drugs
of mushroom

Trees and Snow White
poison apple she is cute
as a button
Throwing apples compared
To oranges who would
be glad they got stuck
with poison
mushroom
Good earth what is possible

Poison brain watching
Cable whats accountable
Midterms all nasty germs
The world is poisoning
our mind brainwashed
I left one nasty mushroom
behind I won't bite

The 9.6 million followers who tune in to watch Miranda Kerr having her hair done on Instagram — for this is how models spend most of their time — were treated to a rather more interesting sight last Thursday: a black and white photograph of a whacking great diamond ring.

Across it was the caption “Marry me!” and a twee animation of the tech mogul Evan Spiegel on bended knee. Underneath Kerr had typed “I said yes!!!” and an explosion of heart emojis.

A spokesman for Spiegel, founder of the Snapchat mobile app, who is 26 to Kerr’s 33 and worth $US 2.1 billion to her $US 42.5 million , revealed “they are very happy”.

At first, the marriage seems an unlikely combination: a man so bright he founded Snapchat while still at Stanford University, becoming one of the world’s youngest self-made billionaires by 22, and a Victoria’s Secret model who was previously married to the Pirates of the Caribbean star Orlando Bloom (she allegedly had a fling with pop brat Justin Bieber, leading Bloom to punch Beebs in a posh Ibiza restaurant).

Perhaps the union indicates that there is more to Kerr than we thought. More likely, it reveals something about Spiegel — and the way the social status of “geeks” has changed.

Since Steve Jobs made computers cool and Millennials started living online, nerds are king. Even coding is **** enough for the model Karlie Kloss, singer will.i.am and actor Ashton Kutcher to learn it. Silicon Valley has become the new Hollywood, as moguls and social media barons take over from film stars and sportsmen not just on rich lists, but as alpha men.

Being a co-founder of a company is this decade’s equivalent to being a rock star or a chef. And, if their attractiveness to models and actresses proves anything, then being a Twag — tech wife or girlfriend — is a “thing”. Sources tell me Twags are also known as “founder-hounders” because they like to date the creators of start-up companies.

Actress Talulah Riley was an early adopter. She started dating the PayPal founder Elon Musk in 2008. Riley, then fresh from starring in the St Trinian’s film, met Musk in London’s Whisky Mist nightclub after he had delivered a lecture at the Royal Aeronautical Society. I interviewed her shortly afterwards and she told me they had spent the evening talking about “quantum physics”. A month later they were engaged. Their on-again-off-again marriage lasted six years before she filed for divorce again in March. Currently Musk, worth an estimated $US 12.7 billion and focused on Tesla cars, is said to be “spending a lot of time” with Johnny Depp’s estranged wife, Amber Heard.

Model Lily Cole dated the Twitter founder Jack Dorsey in 2013. Later she had a son with Kwame Ferreira, founder of the digital innovation agency Kwamecorp. Actress Emma Watson is going out with William Knight, an “adventurer” who has an incredibly boringly sounding job as a senior manager at Medallia, a software company. Allison Williams, Marnie in the HBO television show Girls, is married to Ricky Van Veen, co-founder of College Humor website.

Could it be that these women are onto something? Dating a bro certainly has its appeal. They are innovative: how else would they invent apps that deliver cheese toasties or match singles based on their haircuts? They are risk-takers who must be charismatic enough to inspire investors and attract crowd-funding. They may not be gym-fit, but they are mathletes who can do your tax bill. They are animal lovers: every start-up is dog friendly. And they are fun: who would not want to date somebody with a ball pool in their office?

There is a saying about dating in Silicon Valley: the odds are good but the goods are odd. Nerds are notorious for peculiar chat-up lines and normcore clothes. Still, if geeks can be awkward, that is part of their charm. Keira Knightley, complaining that Silicon Valley was all men in hoodies and Crocs, described how one gave her his card, saying she should get in touch if she wanted to see a spaceship.

One Vogue writer recalled a Silicon Valley man messaging her via a dating app, in which he noted: “In 50 per cent of your photos you’re holding an iPhone. It may interest you to find out that I invented the iPhone. More accurately I was an engineer on the original iPhone . . .”

Most promisingly, some guys are astoundingly rich. It is suggested Kerr’s engagement ring is a 2.5-carat diamond worth around dollars 55,000. She has already moved into Spiegel’s dollars 12m LA pad. Between his money and her Victoria’s Secrets bridesmaids, no wonder sources claim they are planning an “extravagant wedding”.

It might rival even the Napster founder Sean Parker’s $US10m performance-art bash. He married songwriter Alexandra Lenas in a canopy among Big Sur’s redwoods decorated to look like an enchanted forest. Some 350 guests wore Tolkienesque costumes created by The Lord of the Rings costume designer Ngila Dickson. They sat on white fur rugs and were given bunnies to pet. Presumably rabbit babysitters were on hand when the disco started.

If such fantasies inspire you to become a Twag, the great news is you do not have to be a supermodel to be in with a chance. Such is the dearth of single women in Silicon Valley that one dating site, Dating Ring, crowdfunded a plane to fly single women to Palo Alto from New York.

Be warned, though: guys are single because they are married to the job.

No wonder most meet their partners at college or work — the Facebook chief executive Mark Zuckerberg met his wife, Priscilla Chan, at Harvard.

The Instagram co-founder Kevin Systrom met girlfriend Nicole Schuetz at Stanford. Melinda met Bill Gates when, in 1987, they sat next to each other at an Expo trade-fair dinner. “He was funnier than I expected him to be,” she said.

Kerr began dating Spiegel in 2014 after meeting him at a Louis Vuitton dinner in New York. You can bet he was networking. Shortly after Louis Vuitton showcased their cruise collection in a Snapchat story. Last season Snapchat went on to become the biggest new name at NY fashion week.

If you want to meet tech guys, you might catch them at Silicon Valley parties, which is how the Uber chief executive Travis Kalanick met his partner, Gabi Holzwarth, a violinist hired to play. Or they might be schmoozing clients downtown in a swanky Noe Valley club in San Francisco or a boring Union Square hotel in New York. In London you find them around Old Street, aka Silicon Roundabout, in bars, at hackathons, or start-up meet-ups. In the day they are coding at Google Campus or practising their pitching in a co-working space.

Some tech boys date the old-fashioned way: on Tinder. Airbnb founder Brian Chesky met his girlfriend of three years, Elissa Patel, through the app. When I interviewed Instagram co-founder Systrom he admitted that when he had been single he had signed up.

Dating agency Linx — presumably a play on operating system Linux — is dedicated to making Silicon Valley matches. Amy Andersen set it up in 2003 after moving to Palo Alto and being “flabbergasted” by the number of eligible men. She claims her clients are “extremely dynamic and successful individuals’’: tech founders, tech chief executives, financier founding partners of large institutions and “tons of entrepreneurs”.

Andersen says tech guys make “fabulous partners”. Romantic and chivalrous, they write love letters, plan dates, “even proposing on Snapchat!” If you want to marry a tech billionaire, she says, “you need to bring your A game.” Her clients look “for women who are equally, if not more, dynamic and interesting than he is!”

There are drawbacks to dating tech guys. Before Google buys your amore’s business, he will be living on *** Noodles waiting for the next round of funding — and workaholics are dull.

Kerr says Spiegel is “25, but he acts like he’s 50. He’s not out partying. He goes to work in Venice [Beach], he comes home. We don’t go out. We’d rather be at home and have dinner, go to bed early.” Which might suit Kerr, but is not my idea of a fun.

You had also better be prepared to share your life. When Priscilla Chan miscarried three times, Mark Zuckerberg wrote about it on Facebook, while Chesky used a romantic trip with his girlfriend to promote Airbnb - uploading a picture of her in bed, with a note saying “f* hotels”. Besides all of which is the notorious issue of Silicon Valley sexism.

It has a chief exec-bro culture that puts pick-up artist/comedian Dapper Laughs to shame. Ninety per cent of women working in the Valley say they have witnessed sexist behaviour, 60 per cent have experienced unwanted ****** advances at work, two thirds of them from their boss. Whitney Wolfe, a co-founder of Tinder, took Justin Mateen to court for ****** harassment. Her lawsuit against the company alleged that Mateen, her former partner, sent text messages calling her a “*****”.

Spiegel has tech bro form. He apologised after emails from his days at Stanford emerged: missives about stripper poles, getting black-out drunk, shooting lasers at “fat chicks”, and promising to “roll a blunt for whoever sees the most **** tonight (Sunday)”. After one fraternity Hawaiian luau party, he signed off emails “f*bitchesgetleid”.

No wonder some women are not inspired to become Twags. Especially when you could be a tech billionaire yourself. Would you not rather be Sheryl Sandberg, chief operating officer of Facebook, than married to the boss?Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/evening-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/black-formal-dresses

Remini also reveals in the book that Nicole Kidman’s adopted children Bella and Connor only spoke to their Australian mother when forced to.

The New York Daily Newsobtained a copy of Remini’s exposé, Troublemaker: Surviving Hollywood and Scientology. In the book, Remini claims that Suri, who was then seven months old, could be heard crying throughout the pre-wedding dinner.

Remini writes she went to see what was going on, only to find Cruise’s sister and an assistant staring at the child as she screamed on the floor.

Remini says the women were staring at the child as if she was [Scientology founder] “L. Ron Hubbard incarnate”.

Remini also writes about Bella and Connor Cruise’s strained relationship with Nicole Kidman. Sharing a ride to the airport with the then-teenagers after Cruise and Holmes’ wedding, Remini asked the two if they’d seen Kidman.

“Not if I have a choice,” said Bella, according to the book. “Our mom is a f*ing SP.”

(Within Scientology, SP is reportedly a Suppressed Person and designated enemy.)

Remini says that Cruise and Holmes’ lavish nuptials at Odescalchi Castle in Italy was the beginning of the end of her involvement in Scientology. Prior to the 2006 ceremony, Remini — whose mother and stepfather were Scientologists — spent 30 years in the controversial religion and donated US$2.5 million ($3.5 million).

But Cruise and Holmes’ wedding reportedly pushed the actor over the edge.

In the book, Remini recounts how she finally convinced the women in the bathroom to pick up Suri and give her a bottle of warm milk.

Remini reckons her actions infuriated Cruise, and she was then treated like an outcast for speaking up. Tensions reportedly flared as church workers tried to separate Remini from close friend, Jennifer Lopez. Lopez was the daughter of a Scientologist, and the church hoped to use the Cruise wedding to recruit her to the cause. According to the book, Cruise reportedly even pressured Remini to invite longtime friend Lopez and husband Marc Anthony.

When Remini failed to co-operate, she writes that she was very publicly snubbed in the reception line by the famous couple as punishment.

The actor also describes in the book how Cruise was left at the altar for 20 minutes, waiting for Homes to show up.

As the 150 guests grew increasingly uncomfortable, Lopez whispered to Remini, “Do you think Katie is coming?”

Remini recalled the reception as being like a high school dance filled with amorous teenagers.

She writes that Norman Starkey, the Scientologist who performed the wedding ceremony, was “******* Brooke Shields on the dance floor”.

Remini was also outraged to see Scientology’s married Chairman David Miscavige treating his assistant as if they were on a date.

And she reported the high-level Scientologists attached to Cruise and Holmes, Tommy Davis and Jessica Feshbach, “were all over each other” at the festivities.

The two later divorced their spouses and married.

Remini also revealed that Cruise had seemingly replaced Hubbard as the church’s new figurehead. “Tom Cruise seems to be running our church,” she said.

After the event, Remini was summoned to appear at Scientology headquarters in Clearwater, Florida, to explain her wedding behaviour, with the most damning accusation made by Holmes herself.

In a report so punctuated with exclamation marks that it looked liked it was “written by a seventh grader,” Holmes contended that Remini’s wedding behaviour “disturbed me greatly. [She] made the party all about herself.”

Holmes recently apologised to Remini in a statement saying: “I regret having upset Leah in the past and wish her only the best in the future.”

After months of interrogation and a US$300,000 ($420,000) bill for the “auditing,” Remini was forced to launch an apology campaign.

She sent expensive gifts to all the important guests, including director JJ Abrams, who were reportedly upset by her attitude.

Remini also apologised to Kevin Huvane, Cruise’s powerful agent who also represents the likes of Julia Roberts, Meryl Streep and Jennifer Aniston.

She called to personally apologise after hearing that he was telling others how “disgusting” her behaviour was.

Remini considered leaving Scientology at the time, but didn’t as it would have meant cutting ties with her mother, stepfather and the many friends central to her life since joining the church as a teenager. Ultimately, Remini’s family would also leave the church alongside her.

After Holmes left Cruise in 2012, Remini aggressively ended her relationship with Scientology a year later by filing a missing persons report on Scientology boss David Miscavige’s wife.

In Going Clear, Lawrence Wright’s damning HBO documentary on Scientology, he dates Shelley Miscavige’s disappearance from public view to 2006.

Los Angeles police closed the case with a statement that Remini’s report was “unfounded”.

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

www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses

I like to make lists,
of things I've lost, assignments I've missed,
Of people I want to meet.
And I admit, most of those people are poets.
And I know how typical that might seem,
aspiring poet looks to understand a greater inspiration,
be enlightened by the sound of their voice as humans,
not the voice they use on stage, a made-up persona, a super hero.
And all of that? Is true.
I want to ask questions, I want to hear about their triumphs and their regrets and try to match each one with things I've heard from other poets, relate it to myself.
I'd think maybe I can be great one day, display one of my own poems on a trophy shelf.
And for every person on that list I have another someone,
on another list labelled People I am Proud to Know.
And all of these people are poets.
People you will probably never hear of,
And if you have, you still can't possibly understand the origin of their stage names,
The inspiration for their concepts.
And I will try, with every ounce of my being to spill out the trivia into a fishbowl as if these people were goldfish. As if I could ask you to stick your hand in and try to grasp the idea in your bare fingertips with my muck of explanations as your only net.
But its hard, because not all poets have pens, not all poetry is built with words.
It is built with sweat and and laughter and pride.
In name calling I wish I could go by on stage.
There is poetry in the way she kisses her boyfriend,
There is poetry in the way Malawi still sparkles in her eyes,
There is poetry in our long nights and jokes and the way they tell me to shut up simultaneously.
There is poetry in our dances on the sand.
I will forever follow in their footsteps.
When we were little, they they used to make me cry just so they could be the ones to tell me it was okay.
There are still days I cry. There are still moments I feel homesick no matter where I am and feel like it'll only get better if they let their baby sister crawl between their sheets.
I follow in their footsteps because it makes me feel like I know where I'm going,
through sand or snow or mud,
there will always be poetry there.
I feel it. Its all I've learned to know.

I guess I just expected
Something else

It happens every year,
I get excited
Hopeful
Giddy
That maybe
This year will be
Different.

Maybe I'll find an awesome friend
Who does my nails
And answers calls at two am
Like Nicole did
Before she moved to California

Or she could be like Kayla
Who would be silly with me in
Drama class
And use chocolate sauce for blood
In our Black and White movie
Before her dad died in combat
And she went to bury him in
Some foreign country
Where cell phones
Don't count

Or a boyfriend like Louis
That I could see a future with
Sitting listening to Relient K
In a college dorm
With a million years to spare
Before he left for London

But the girl in front of me
In English
Pops her gum for the boy
In the next desk
And could poke my eye out
With her fake straightened hair.

The girl in my drama class
Cakes on her mask and
Participates in pageant after pageant
And calls her anorexia
A diet

And I heard the rumor
That the boy I thought was cute
In chemistry
Was caught ******* his
Girlfriend
Under her desk in
Español Dos.

I didn't think my standards were too high to meet.

I think I'm losing you, but I will never regret choosing you
Because I am in love, and for now that will be enough
And the ones around me convince me that I was the only person who was dumb enough to believe that you and I had hope.
But now I know even after you began to let your emotions slow the only reason I stood alone was because I was the only one who knew our love was never going to let go.

Everyone wanted me to see that we could not thrive, so gouge out my eyes.
Because if this is reality then I guess I'm not alive,
Because I don't know a life in where I can't make things right.
And when life teaches you to drive and you finally say goodbye
And you won't let me stand by your side
Ill know that though some feelings are hurt, none will have died.
Cause I used to stay up at night and picture myself looking into your eyes
Shouting as you would sigh “how dare you think you can fall asleep with water dripping from the kitchen sink, how dare you think you can fall asleep with all these little leaks in this home we built in our dreams”

A picture is worth a thousand words or whatever people say to me.
It's hard to believe when your mind is lost and in need,
And all you can picture is a memory inside of someone else's sheets.
A prayer that nothing will keep,
A hope that light will seek before the dark sinks too deep.
Or at least the sinking feeling inside of me will decrease when the release of perceived dreams burn in the flame of feeling free.
So feel free to be free if that's what you need.

And if someday you feel alone and everything caves in when you try to breathe,
Know that you are not alone as far as I can see,
Because you were everything to me.
Through this I have realized that if I were God we would have all just died,
Because darling you were mine and now I feel so dead inside,
And what good am I if all I can create is a projection of my own mind.
A dream of finding time to remind you that I'm still here and I'm not fine.
And darling if you're going to leave just remember who you are,
And do what you can to remember me.

Maybe someday we can talk about our past and we can talk about the weather.
Whenever you leave I don't care what I'm remembered for,
I just want to be remembered.
Because even if I failed you at least I tried,
And maybe our lives don't add up now but someday our graves will look the same when we both die.
And if I had a chance I'd give you one last kiss and I'd bite down on your lip
And I'd try to puncture it so you'll never forget that time,
But you'll always regret.
And darling I know sometimes life will take a turn for the worst,
And sometimes life will even hurt.
And I know some days, some days you'll be afraid of the lessons you'll have to learn
And some days you'll even feel burned,
And I want to let you know that I want to love you through them.

But I always get what I deserve.

Brandon Bless you brother for your Holy Spirit filled poems.
Bless you Elsa , for your heart and God is using your poems.
Bless you Just Melz, Marion,Nicole,Dark and beautiful  too.
Wolf Spirit,DC Raw,Ignatinus, David, Timothy, Joshua..
Joe Kevin, Gary L, Traveler, Mike Hauser, Anto MacRuaridh.
Soulsurvivoe, weeping willow,Hilda.Emma, MargotDylan.
I want to name each and everyone of you that I follow/
Beth St Claire, Nicole, Elizabeth Squire,Mark Cleavenger.
Forgotten Heart, Haley Madison, Eudora, Ann M Johnson.n
Vanessa Gatley, Beryl Dov, Mercie B, Paul Butters, Emma.
Nateive Son,Dopperganger, Cecil Miller,My cup overrunth.
Sweetpea, Frank Ruland, olestory teller, Ridicule, Tivonna.
Carolin, Anu, Nicole Dawn. plus so many more inspires me.
Please forgive me if you are not on here I love you all.
Everyone of you inspires me , I see your courage and your love.
May Christ always bless you all abundantly with his blessings.
I see the courage in all of you whom have my life here on HP.