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"oprah" poems
Gender is just an invention by society I'm a strong independent black woman and I don't need no man Oprah Michelle Obama Yoga Pants Hilary Clinton Breast Milk
0
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 5:06 AM UTC
Down With The Patriarchy, Up With Tomato Soup
Wussup, professional Latina? Diversity been good 2 U? Water warm enough 4 U? Shaking down enuf rich gringos to fund your Non-Profit? (*speak against capitalismo here*) Got time for la Revolución after your pedicure today? (mention the border here) still watching Oprah, Abuela? heard from your third ex-husband recently? Wussup consummate professional. (*turn on NPR here*) Got nail polish? Got car waxed? Got investments? (take a networking business lunch here) Have you streaked your hair enuf? (mention indigenismo here) I hope you are caring well for all the nietos and still have time to be a tiburona (insert italicized Spanish word here) How are all your gente ? (*mention mujeres fuertes here*) Hey Latina - when did you move out of the barrio ? (*mention La Raza here*) Mujer Latina—wussup. how is Gringolandia workin' out 4 U ? (turn off Univision here) 'cause if the oppression gets too bad you could always move back to Venezuela or Chihuahua or San Juan,  or... (*mention Trump here*) ...Miami?
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Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 7:01 PM UTC
Latina en la tina
Albert Camus Kept an Emu Tied to a potted, Portable wisteria To keep him company Whilst he kept goal For the University of Algeria. As Albert was fishing The ball out From the back of the net The Emu mused On the conversations they'd had About The Oprah Winfrey Show, The significance of suffragettes, Adam Smith's Wealth Of Nations And the ****** orientation Of Sir Galahad. Whilst discussing the plots of The Plague and The Outsider Warm feelings would suddenly Well up inside her. Why should such intellect Elicit so much love And even more pain? My thoughts for this man Aren't getting any vaguer. Then Utrecht University Scored again. There are no happy endings With Albert Camus - Decades later he dies In his publisher's Facel Vega. When she heard of Albert's demise Her initial reaction Was hysteria And it comes as no surprise That a few weeks later She died of diphtheria Which is so much easier to do When you're an existential emu.
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Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 2:53 PM UTC
Albert Camus And His Existential Emu
Heard a hip-hop anthem today BOSS “Michelle Obama… purse so heavy… getting Oprah dollars…” A rhythmic dance beat spelling out Confidence And Respect A baller banner of pride Flung to the ceiling, waving Women’s independence Black women’s power I see it… But Is an album adorned with 5 sultry females Clad only in a man’s shirt and high heels Singing show me the money Sold to the club scene to inspire ***** shaking And Yeager bomb throwing So we forget the work week challenges Relationship pains And Embrace vicariously our entitlements HELPFUL?
0
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 3:02 PM UTC
BOSS NOT
Talk-show queen Oprah Winfrey with her entourage is going to Australia and it’s timely now for a quick Colbert Report on the state of the colony of Australia Colony? Yes, that’s right Australia is still a British colony - How else do you explain it? as the Head of Government in Australia is still the British Monarchy and her Majesty, the Queen of Great Britain, has her representative a Governor-General in Australia; and the Aussie national media faithfully reports that Prince Philip is a God in some remote island and the TV stations broadcast visions of which British Prince kissed which of their latest fancy And so, Oprah, welcome to the Colony Ah, yes, and the Chinese migrants coming in are surprised to learn of Australia’s status at citizenship ceremonies and the young man explains to his grandma: “Oh, Foreign Devil still control Australia; sad, Chairman Mao did not Liberate Australia.” And Indian migrants, much to their disappointment are heard to remark: “Oh no – does this mean we still have to go through another fight for freedom as in 1947?” But then they are consoled by the fact that a Gandhi only comes once in 200 years so we can all still get on with our lives and the nation will continue to eat burgers and enjoy barbecues and hop like kangaroos until such things may happen… Ah well, dear talk-show Queen Oprah Winfrey and her entourage this ends our report on the sovereign nation down under: Happy Stay in Her British Majesty’s Colony
0
Sep 23, 2010
Sep 23, 2010 at 12:16 PM UTC
Colbert Report: Australia
Talk-show queen Oprah Winfrey with her entourage is going to Australia and it’s timely now for a quick Colbert Report on the state of the colony of Australia Colony? Yes, that’s right Australia is still a British colony - How else do you explain it? as the Head of Government in Australia is still the British Monarchy and her Majesty, the Queen of Great Britain, has her representative a Governor-General in Australia; and the Aussie national media faithfully reports that Prince Philip is a God in some remote island and the TV stations broadcast visions of which British Prince kissed which of their latest fancy And so, Oprah, welcome to the Colony Ah, yes, and the Chinese migrants coming in are surprised to learn of Australia’s status at citizenship ceremonies and the young man explains to his grandma: “Oh, Foreign Devil still control Australia; sad, Chairman Mao did not Liberate Australia.” And Indian migrants, much to their disappointment are heard to remark: “Oh no – does this mean we still have to go through another fight for freedom as in 1947?” But then they are consoled by the fact that a Gandhi only comes once in 200 years so we can all still get on with our lives and the nation will continue to eat burgers and enjoy barbecues and hop like kangaroos until such things may happen… Ah well, dear talk-show Queen Oprah Winfrey and her entourage this ends our report on the sovereign nation down under: Happy Stay in Her British Majesty’s Colony
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39
here’s what they don’t tell you in sunday school. no matter if you make it to heaven or hell, you could still be sitting next to the elementary school shooter depending on whether or not he prays to the right god. my father always said that if he meets jesus, he’ll apologize. “sorry, man I didn’t know. if it’s any consolation, I believe in you now.” two weeks ago a friend grabbed my steering wheel and she turned me into the next lane. she believes in god more than she believes in saying sorry. if I ever prove her wrong and meet god, I’ll ask him if he watches over malala and why he had to let those three children get hit with a semi truck on the way home from the fair. giving their parents triplets of the same gender as before wasn’t good enough even if oprah called it a miracle. we always tell each other that the murderers are going to h-e-double hockey sticks. is this wishful thinking? are we just incapable of picturing adolf with a pair of angel wings? even if I didn’t know it then, these thoughts might just be the reason that I used to get panic attacks when I thought about heaven. I’ve always been a restless soul and being stuck somewhere forever was never my style.
0
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 1:55 AM UTC
the beauty pageant question
RiFF RaFF pullin' up with five ace-cards. Maybe five jokers, your ***** playin' strip poker. I'm outside eating fried okra, with Oprah. Diamonds on my piece and chain, looking like Mufasa. Look like Lion King, drive a Sebring. Fifty thousand dollas, bought myself a wedding-ring.
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Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
RAP GAME BILL GATES
A title, from the "Best of the Alternative Press" After reading I realize I'm not a woman after all She can talk about the cruel things men do to women **** and ****** Then discuss draperies in the next breath how to organize your closet Female Genital Mutilation in Africa and her favorite appliance: a Panini maker I am supposed to rush into my kitchen to make sure I have the same brand "She understands how much women care about their houses" I look around I am happy here but A new cake of soap doesn't send a thrill through my body A fresh towel doesn't make me ****** I could make a grilled cheese sandwich The way my ancestors, male and female have done In a skillet with bread and cheese If I squish it it, it becomes Panini I check the mirror I'm naked, and I see I am a woman
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May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 9:39 PM UTC
"What Men Don't Get About Oprah" (?)
Dear America, I was built on a loose foundation A table with three legs to sustain the load of a table with four. To make nothing from something but For something to come from nothing you need some thing. The most terrible thing to waste The superlative of Man’s tools What makes us as individuals unique, On the contrary defines us as a social order The mind, The M.I.N.D. My Intelligence Nurtures Divergence Always accepting of the opposition, A bloodthirsty cheetah digging its fangs deep into the flesh of a wildebeest, my mind feeds off of their ideals, Further amplifying my intellectual power. Expansion within the human intellect, builds on experiences of failures and success Be afraid of failure, but unafraid to learn from defeat The world is a frigid place, and even colder when you squander your most valuable weapon. “A weapon? What beats an M16, double barrel shotgun, 9mm, Smith and Wesson, or Desert Eagle.” Young blood, the divine power is in your head Gandhi, Malcolm X, Socrates Gone too soon due to minds considered Weapons of Mass Destruction, Weapons of Mass Enlightenment to others Since 1992 I’ve embarked on a journey A journey to educate myself A journey to realize the man I want to be A journey to reach my full potential Universally familiar words of my grandmother “You can do whatever you put your mind too” The future poses as an unknown force, But within me fear is absent as my MIND is fully equipped for the ongoing battle of life. I was built on a loose foundation Tupac Shakur, John D Rockefeller, Oprah Winfrey, Chris Gardner, Christopher Wallace, Richard Branson, Steve Jobs, Walt Disney, Michael Jordan, Michael Jackson, Henry Ford, Bill Gates. Expected to come from nothing to something but had that one thing to become something Utilize your strengths and bury your weaknesses For with a strong mind the word weak is without purpose
0
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 12:05 PM UTC
The Letter
Dear America, I was built on a loose foundation A table with three legs to sustain the load of a table with four. To make nothing from something but For something to come from nothing you need some thing. The most terrible thing to waste The superlative of Man’s tools What makes us as individuals unique, On the contrary defines us as a social order The mind, The M.I.N.D. My Intelligence Nurtures Divergence Always accepting of the opposition, A bloodthirsty cheetah digging its fangs deep into the flesh of a wildebeest, my mind feeds off of their ideals, Further amplifying my intellectual power. Expansion within the human intellect, builds on experiences of failures and success Be afraid of failure, but unafraid to learn from defeat The world is a frigid place, and even colder when you squander your most valuable weapon. “A weapon? What beats an M16, double barrel shotgun, 9mm, Smith and Wesson, or Desert Eagle.” Young blood, the divine power is in your head Gandhi, Malcolm X, Socrates Gone too soon due to minds considered Weapons of Mass Destruction, Weapons of Mass Enlightenment to others Since 1992 I’ve embarked on a journey A journey to educate myself A journey to realize the man I want to be A journey to reach my full potential Universally familiar words of my grandmother “You can do whatever you put your mind too” The future poses as an unknown force, But within me fear is absent as my MIND is fully equipped for the ongoing battle of life. I was built on a loose foundation Tupac Shakur, John D Rockefeller, Oprah Winfrey, Chris Gardner, Christopher Wallace, Richard Branson, Steve Jobs, Walt Disney, Michael Jordan, Michael Jackson, Henry Ford, Bill Gates. Expected to come from nothing to something but had that one thing to become something Utilize your strengths and bury your weaknesses For with a strong mind the word weak is without purpose
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41
"Yell that one out when you get it" she said in what she considered her most calm and gentle tone. Her calculations were wrong though. What she considered calm and gentle still seemed animated and intense to her audience. By this grade and age most children have been trained to raise a hand to answer class questions or request the floor. She began realizing more and more that she spent her days within a room of tiny robots, in a building of tiny robots, in a town of various types of robots... situated in a galaxy of dust that accumulated on the surface of the Great Petrie Dish. This was not where she wanted to be. All along his path he grabbed the sticks that called to him. There were many in this area which was surrounded by concrete yet, enough nature inside to forget the dull grays.  Still along the way he traded these sticks and twigs for other sticks and twigs that he placed earlier in naturally occurring hammocks cradled within the bark of an old tree knot or between two inviting branches. Each stick and twig that he moved was followed by a message of gratitude and the intent to do no harm.  A pinch pull of hair from his arm was placed here in reverie of balance and reciprocation. Walking by, I noticed this and waved to him thinking, "wouldn't life be a little better if we all ran around in a circle and enjoyed the healing power of play. It feels good to let go." Then I thought to myself, "that was totally awkward. I just waved like a guest walking onto the stage for a visit with Oprah". I was fat non- hippie backwards hat fried from acid tabs and Hendrix Stuttgart posters for hours while rewinding the instrumental track that followed the song "drug store cowboy" on a dubbed Justin Warfield tape over and over again. Those years floated me from the village on my floor to adult ADHD and a far off gaze. The neighbors hate when I run around my back yard shirtless chanting and banging a drum on rainy evenings.
0
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 7:39 AM UTC
Primitive Inhibitions: sour sunflower, so what!
"Yell that one out when you get it" she said in what she considered her most calm and gentle tone. Her calculations were wrong though. What she considered calm and gentle still seemed animated and intense to her audience. By this grade and age most children have been trained to raise a hand to answer class questions or request the floor. She began realizing more and more that she spent her days within a room of tiny robots, in a building of tiny robots, in a town of various types of robots... situated in a galaxy of dust that accumulated on the surface of the Great Petrie Dish. This was not where she wanted to be. All along his path he grabbed the sticks that called to him. There were many in this area which was surrounded by concrete yet, enough nature inside to forget the dull grays.  Still along the way he traded these sticks and twigs for other sticks and twigs that he placed earlier in naturally occurring hammocks cradled within the bark of an old tree knot or between two inviting branches. Each stick and twig that he moved was followed by a message of gratitude and the intent to do no harm.  A pinch pull of hair from his arm was placed here in reverie of balance and reciprocation. Walking by, I noticed this and waved to him thinking, "wouldn't life be a little better if we all ran around in a circle and enjoyed the healing power of play. It feels good to let go." Then I thought to myself, "that was totally awkward. I just waved like a guest walking onto the stage for a visit with Oprah". I was fat non- hippie backwards hat fried from acid tabs and Hendrix Stuttgart posters for hours while rewinding the instrumental track that followed the song "drug store cowboy" on a dubbed Justin Warfield tape over and over again. Those years floated me from the village on my floor to adult ADHD and a far off gaze. The neighbors hate when I run around my back yard shirtless chanting and banging a drum on rainy evenings.
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9
I sit amongst rampant consumerism, Yet I smile as I sip my Starbucks tall Pike Place. To my left, old ladies decked in Tiffany decry their neighbours folly, Even while they sit blind to their own. To my right, Chapters! Book store that offers so much more, A perfect monument of society's needs answered in one storefront. We don't shop here for a read, or for the escape some unknown author's words spell for us. No, this masterfully crafted shop answers our shared need of empty spending on soulless items that will lift us from the mire of our meaningless lives for one instance, Before that scented candle or witty greeting card is left to collect the dust of our fallen gods. Behind me the street is full of noise but no one is listening, Busses carry the many but each is a world onto themselves, Thoughts not of their making wrestle for attention with smartphones, Before long the thoughts echo what the eyes read on the digital screens glowing below them. The enemy of my friend... Don't let consciousness wake! Combined the noise without and the noise within will drown whatever chance we had at relevancy. And so Oprah wins, Look under your chairs, It's your new life, Not to be mistaken with your old one, This one comes with a shiny new automobile, trip, ring, dress, shoes, Anything but enlightenment. Before me, Possibilities. You?
0
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
Society
This morning brought to you by a lack of everything. Also forgiving every customer solely on the basis that they haven't had coffee yet. Like Oprah Winfrey is in my blood handing out second chances. "You get a smile!" "You get a smile" "Go **** Y!~ ou get a smile!." Because we've all been there. Pre-Java grump at everything. So I guess what i'm saying is... Rich white people who probably won't read this.... I get you.... you're welcome for the coffee and optimism. I hope you pay it forward in some way... May my smile and My compliment of your expensive jewelry transmorph through your ears into your brain and out your mouth at... A fellow employee Or Your children Or Your husband. May they see you significantly after you drink this coffee. Which I did not. could not. possibly tamper with. (Hehe. Tamper) Because this is self serve. So, "Go S*rve Yourself." And have a nice day.
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Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 12:13 PM UTC
This morning brought to you by a lack of everything.
I like to drift aobut the oprah show with my laptop open, sipping bourbon, it smokes my eyes and stings my tounge I like to drift about like this, I like it when the benches to the barstool are sepraated by groups of three and I like itwhen the tender leans towards my direction I like the  laptop open in a giant kazooo, in an inredibly modest church I like the laptop open while I'm searching for pens and pencils while I'm picking roses Iwhile I am farting now listen, I like the laptop open because I am flawless, yes
0
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 10:39 PM UTC
poem-y poem
Ooooooprah... it is time for us to have a little chat: i have heard you say, on video, that opposition to Obama is based on racism. Haters gonna hate, you say. i disagree. While surely there are some who feel this way, since America is such a big and diverse place, i think you have discounted a much more appropriate reason for opposing the O: incompetence. If not that, how about lying? If not that, how about hypocrisy? There are more, but my space is limited. Do any of the above do anything for you, besides racism? Keep in mind, Oprah, that as a percentage of population, white folks still are the majority. And you are now filthy rich, thanks in part to those same white people, some of whom dislike the president. So...being pro-Oprah and anti-Obama are mutually exclusive? An awful lot of white folks helped you get rich, does that mean to you that they are race traitors? Are you trying not to be? Race sure does seem really important to you. And yet America (even white America) elected a black man twice to the presidency. It wasn't important to most Americans what color he was. They are mad now because they were duped by an incompetent lawyer. And now they know it for sure. So when you, Oprah, fall back on race instead of logic, you are playing your last card of desperation. It has no merit. You know that. In fact, Oprah, to my mind YOU are the racist. The only other alternative i see is that you are ashamed of how wrong you were supporting him, and too prideful to admit it. But you certainly seem to think that white America owes you or the president some debt other than our money and our dwindling rights. Because you think that you both are superior. That is called racism, Oprah. Look it up sometime.
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Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 6:48 PM UTC
The Phantom of the Oprah
Ooooooprah... it is time for us to have a little chat: i have heard you say, on video, that opposition to Obama is based on racism. Haters gonna hate, you say. i disagree. While surely there are some who feel this way, since America is such a big and diverse place, i think you have discounted a much more appropriate reason for opposing the O: incompetence. If not that, how about lying? If not that, how about hypocrisy? There are more, but my space is limited. Do any of the above do anything for you, besides racism? Keep in mind, Oprah, that as a percentage of population, white folks still are the majority. And you are now filthy rich, thanks in part to those same white people, some of whom dislike the president. So...being pro-Oprah and anti-Obama are mutually exclusive? An awful lot of white folks helped you get rich, does that mean to you that they are race traitors? Are you trying not to be? Race sure does seem really important to you. And yet America (even white America) elected a black man twice to the presidency. It wasn't important to most Americans what color he was. They are mad now because they were duped by an incompetent lawyer. And now they know it for sure. So when you, Oprah, fall back on race instead of logic, you are playing your last card of desperation. It has no merit. You know that. In fact, Oprah, to my mind YOU are the racist. The only other alternative i see is that you are ashamed of how wrong you were supporting him, and too prideful to admit it. But you certainly seem to think that white America owes you or the president some debt other than our money and our dwindling rights. Because you think that you both are superior. That is called racism, Oprah. Look it up sometime.
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66
They cry turmoil thru my web-pages, pages on pages of Tribunes and Suns and Times and Quarterly "Free Burma!" it's all turkey and pig-latin to me, just "dunno!"  like a dunce-capped miscreant, inept of their vitriol as i was not so great at geography i got by before junior high. Where-the-tarnished-nation is it? "Free Burma!" Notice the elephant in the room like a whale named ***** attempting to escape brothers of all of ours engulfed in war some ocean somewhere someone is dying; notice that elephant in our laptops ivory and blue tooth and iphones telling me, showing us to care i do / want to we should and we must yes "Free Burma!" will i need to donate a dollar, two, three? will i receive a correspondence of a child i am saving a face of a country i'm ignorant to...            will it's big sad puppy eyes be commercialized? i am no less as educated for not following the strife of thousands    my own is as heavy here as an orca's leap "Free Burma!" what cage, bear or mouse trap have they gotten themselves and ourselves into? if it's anything like Yayo or Martha business i have a better "good thing" to do but if it is like famines in Africa, Mendelson, or Tibetan Monks on strike with kung-fu skills i will join U2, (and if she's aware) with Oprah power activate! (fist to fist) "i will be a well of spring-water!" and she a holy cow, a worshipped saint "Free Burma!!" free water free of fear free everyone, i pray, under this sky wipe away all tears free you of your worries free of all chains free of mines free of lies and borderlines. Free to be together free to live and choose to see A planet a place A peace "Free Burma!" Freedom as one community. For you, for me. Home. Free...
0
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 9:15 PM UTC
FREE BURMA! (Spoken Word)
They cry turmoil thru my web-pages, pages on pages of Tribunes and Suns and Times and Quarterly "Free Burma!" it's all turkey and pig-latin to me, just "dunno!"  like a dunce-capped miscreant, inept of their vitriol as i was not so great at geography i got by before junior high. Where-the-tarnished-nation is it? "Free Burma!" Notice the elephant in the room like a whale named ***** attempting to escape brothers of all of ours engulfed in war some ocean somewhere someone is dying; notice that elephant in our laptops ivory and blue tooth and iphones telling me, showing us to care i do / want to we should and we must yes "Free Burma!" will i need to donate a dollar, two, three? will i receive a correspondence of a child i am saving a face of a country i'm ignorant to...            will it's big sad puppy eyes be commercialized? i am no less as educated for not following the strife of thousands    my own is as heavy here as an orca's leap "Free Burma!" what cage, bear or mouse trap have they gotten themselves and ourselves into? if it's anything like Yayo or Martha business i have a better "good thing" to do but if it is like famines in Africa, Mendelson, or Tibetan Monks on strike with kung-fu skills i will join U2, (and if she's aware) with Oprah power activate! (fist to fist) "i will be a well of spring-water!" and she a holy cow, a worshipped saint "Free Burma!!" free water free of fear free everyone, i pray, under this sky wipe away all tears free you of your worries free of all chains free of mines free of lies and borderlines. Free to be together free to live and choose to see A planet a place A peace "Free Burma!" Freedom as one community. For you, for me. Home. Free...
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75
How you know him: Gurung’s label, established in 2009, reimagines traditional textiles with a sportswear attitude. January Jones, First Lady Michelle Obama, and Oprah Winfrey have taken memorable turns in his fiery red gowns. What’s new: Gurung is teaming up with Toms this month with exclusive designs to raise funds for Nepal’s recovery from the 2015 earthquake. For each pair of shoes sold, $5 will go to Gurung’s Shikshya Foundation to support education and relief efforts. What does heritage mean to you? When I left Nepal and told people I wanted to be a fashion designer, they thought I was crazy. I didn’t know anyone here. But I still remember coming up to the Midtown Tunnel and seeing all the skyscrapers for the first time, and I finally felt that I was home. I became myself in America, but Nepal gave me my core. The reason I am grounded and pragmatic is simply that I was brought up this way. What was your childhood like there? I was born in Singapore and grew up in Nepal, where I went to an all-boys Catholic school. I was different and made aware of it. It was a challenging time, but I had an incredible relationship with my family that helped me. Trekking became a kind of escape, and I was always inspired by the Patan Museum, near my house. I still go back for the memories attached. How is Nepal reflected in your designs for Toms, and also your foundation work? The ikat pattern is called dhaka, a hand-loomed weave that I wanted to modernize as a digital print. Black, white, and red are very typical of Newari women [from Kathmandu Valley] and my favorite colors, which I used in my first collection. Five years ago, when I started getting all this attention, I started Shikshya with a focus on education as a way to give back. Since the 2015 earthquake, we have raised more than $1 million to help rebuild, but the process is slower than people think, and the world’s attention turns to someplace else. So it’s my job with everything I do to keep awareness alive.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/vintage-formal-dresses
0
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
A Leading Force in Fashion’s New Guard
How you know him: Gurung’s label, established in 2009, reimagines traditional textiles with a sportswear attitude. January Jones, First Lady Michelle Obama, and Oprah Winfrey have taken memorable turns in his fiery red gowns. What’s new: Gurung is teaming up with Toms this month with exclusive designs to raise funds for Nepal’s recovery from the 2015 earthquake. For each pair of shoes sold, $5 will go to Gurung’s Shikshya Foundation to support education and relief efforts. What does heritage mean to you? When I left Nepal and told people I wanted to be a fashion designer, they thought I was crazy. I didn’t know anyone here. But I still remember coming up to the Midtown Tunnel and seeing all the skyscrapers for the first time, and I finally felt that I was home. I became myself in America, but Nepal gave me my core. The reason I am grounded and pragmatic is simply that I was brought up this way. What was your childhood like there? I was born in Singapore and grew up in Nepal, where I went to an all-boys Catholic school. I was different and made aware of it. It was a challenging time, but I had an incredible relationship with my family that helped me. Trekking became a kind of escape, and I was always inspired by the Patan Museum, near my house. I still go back for the memories attached. How is Nepal reflected in your designs for Toms, and also your foundation work? The ikat pattern is called dhaka, a hand-loomed weave that I wanted to modernize as a digital print. Black, white, and red are very typical of Newari women [from Kathmandu Valley] and my favorite colors, which I used in my first collection. Five years ago, when I started getting all this attention, I started Shikshya with a focus on education as a way to give back. Since the 2015 earthquake, we have raised more than $1 million to help rebuild, but the process is slower than people think, and the world’s attention turns to someplace else. So it’s my job with everything I do to keep awareness alive.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/vintage-formal-dresses
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8
The Wizard Of Because I live in a lap of luxury, never again will I go hungry. Life has been good so far, big house and a fancy car. Fame, fortune and power, ten heads in my giant shower. Can't remember last time when, I slept at a cheap ****** inn. Once was lost, now I'm found, just like a dog in a pound. Used to be naked, now fully clothed, my whereabouts are undisclosed. Every day is a new adventure, cash only, never a debenture. I have powers beyond belief, some say, I'm just a common thief. Can cure sickness, with just one touch, if you have a broken leg, drop that crutch. The future passes before my eyes, I have unlimited amounts of supplies. Not a disease, I can't cure, cancer and aids are no more. Been on Oprah, been on Ellen, neither bought what I was selling. Won the lottery sixteen times, I've prevented many of crimes. You can call me what you will, my face is on the million dollar bill. People pay to see me in action, I love seeing their ****** reaction. Now that I have your undivided attention, ruling the world is my true intention. Put people and things, in their rightful place, **** half the world, we need the **** space. No more busy streets, no more money or stupid receipts. Not a single crowded mall, handicapped people standing tall. No more standing in long lines, no more tickets, no more fines. No more government laws, it's good to be the wizard of because.
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Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 8:13 PM UTC
The Wizard Of Because
I weigh 1/4 of a blue whales heart I am as tall as Napolean Bonaparte I am as old as Oprah's Book Club When I do not like myself I think of these things And suddenly, I look very different.
0
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 11:49 PM UTC
Perspective
"we never touch people so lightly that we do not leave a trace" (peggy tabor millin). watching daytime tv, oprah yelling at audience members for going through the express checkout with fifteen items, your hand rested my thigh, keeping it, keeping me, warm. you lifted your hand. tiny lines left in my skin. pressed from your palm. mirror image palmistry.
0
Feb 4, 2010
Feb 4, 2010 at 11:35 AM UTC
touch me lightly
tease and taunt pick and poke scratch and maul stab and choke bring us this bring us that hello brother fill my hat merry christmas help a ****** seasons’ greetings stuff your monkey i want i pad i love i mad i spend i fly i live i die text me facebook email me twitter **** champagne and roll in glitter where is love an epic fail why is lindsay not in jail give me more give me more i want to be a retail ***** mommy mommy why is santa burping loud to **** mylanta shred the paper back to work new year’s yay go beserk another year of joy and love return this item push and shove was here first you stupid **** wait there’s oprah let’s all hug holiday wish from me to thou holy hell shoot me now
0
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:26 AM UTC
noel
Everything is just an act-thing. A game piece, a character. Essence of the game, the play, the poem, the joke is the ego. Our genetics together create consciousness, The ego. Every code, every instruction, every message from the genes is not in selfishness, but in selflessness, in laughter. Witty humors they possess, They know you need an uncertain situation, to be called attention to, to be reminded that it's all just a joke in the end, and not one has a bad sense of humor. There is the dark, poor-me, my-life-is-miserable jokes to the bright oprah's-monkeys-shit-shit, one-day-i-was-tripping jokes because the Spiral Source Polarity Is. The yin and yang do not swim after one another, there is neither tail nor head. They flow as river-wind. Fire and water, energy and matter, Ego and truth are genes' Set ups punch lines laughter. Set that to infinity at 98.6 degrees now, the questions rise how do I act after realizing all of this? How can I keep playing this role? The point is to understand the answer is to die as the world knows death. Your eyes will blink Your heart will sync with another's beat Your tongue wil taste You will die as the ego knows it. You will think You will feel You will realize You will die as You know it. Why would I waste my time in a place like this with people like this and not in the warm, bristley buzzing glowing meadow grass in a tree playing whistling lips to the soaring peer bubbling out air in the ocean's riptide treading soft chilled down on montana mountains being able to meet soaring peer in source element and inevitable intimate relations with earth or sea.
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Jun 26, 2010
Jun 26, 2010 at 10:09 AM UTC
Everything Is
Everything is just an act-thing. A game piece, a character. Essence of the game, the play, the poem, the joke is the ego. Our genetics together create consciousness, The ego. Every code, every instruction, every message from the genes is not in selfishness, but in selflessness, in laughter. Witty humors they possess, They know you need an uncertain situation, to be called attention to, to be reminded that it's all just a joke in the end, and not one has a bad sense of humor. There is the dark, poor-me, my-life-is-miserable jokes to the bright oprah's-monkeys-shit-shit, one-day-i-was-tripping jokes because the Spiral Source Polarity Is. The yin and yang do not swim after one another, there is neither tail nor head. They flow as river-wind. Fire and water, energy and matter, Ego and truth are genes' Set ups punch lines laughter. Set that to infinity at 98.6 degrees now, the questions rise how do I act after realizing all of this? How can I keep playing this role? The point is to understand the answer is to die as the world knows death. Your eyes will blink Your heart will sync with another's beat Your tongue wil taste You will die as the ego knows it. You will think You will feel You will realize You will die as You know it. Why would I waste my time in a place like this with people like this and not in the warm, bristley buzzing glowing meadow grass in a tree playing whistling lips to the soaring peer bubbling out air in the ocean's riptide treading soft chilled down on montana mountains being able to meet soaring peer in source element and inevitable intimate relations with earth or sea.
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63
Banging heads upon the wall all ***** Scrunched up in a corner with dust falling For it must Tomb tickers break open their beakers Feeling what it must be like to be a God Goading over fools gold discovered at the Bottom of the ocean Remembering their pasts, praying that it Never existed A fortune cookie lightly breaks And a tear falls from it Leaving a small watery mark in the hot sizzling dirt Fortune smiles as men run amok with guns, blood and prayer beads Blazing Blazing Blazing Fancy hearing the siamese cat and alla' that She and he were oh so great at the party Weren't they Molly? Name that means nothing says everything But everything is the bottom of the barrel The watermelon harping over a sail boat Dirt speckled pomegranetes listen intently In the rotting afternoon showery sun Solioquoy membrane meters with a piano balancing In a full swing and in teter Atop the highest feather, a fire eater Nonsensical romance that blinks their eyes and it is gone So gone So far and so long Ripped tendons tenderly sell their wares All buttons, miss matched pieces of tore out hair She was the one I loved best, the one at the fair Oleander olives had hung from her wretched head While the television played Oprah I was in Ethipioa praying for another month of rain Reeling through the season in treason A prisoner in my own mind The foggy ruins of time Off and far away She said just couldn't obey what the Lord wanted her to say Oh Joan, you burned so fast, so quick, so steadily Never screaming, only beaming Members of the church swore their were moments That you were balanced and the opposite of torment A letter opened But never read A letter received But quickly thrown away as though secretly deceived Pole dancers show their goods as they should Much like drinkers whom some believe To be great thinkers But I ask the wind what she thinks She doesn't hesitate As she coyly Winks
0
May 15, 2011
May 15, 2011 at 11:06 AM UTC
Resigned
Banging heads upon the wall all ***** Scrunched up in a corner with dust falling For it must Tomb tickers break open their beakers Feeling what it must be like to be a God Goading over fools gold discovered at the Bottom of the ocean Remembering their pasts, praying that it Never existed A fortune cookie lightly breaks And a tear falls from it Leaving a small watery mark in the hot sizzling dirt Fortune smiles as men run amok with guns, blood and prayer beads Blazing Blazing Blazing Fancy hearing the siamese cat and alla' that She and he were oh so great at the party Weren't they Molly? Name that means nothing says everything But everything is the bottom of the barrel The watermelon harping over a sail boat Dirt speckled pomegranetes listen intently In the rotting afternoon showery sun Solioquoy membrane meters with a piano balancing In a full swing and in teter Atop the highest feather, a fire eater Nonsensical romance that blinks their eyes and it is gone So gone So far and so long Ripped tendons tenderly sell their wares All buttons, miss matched pieces of tore out hair She was the one I loved best, the one at the fair Oleander olives had hung from her wretched head While the television played Oprah I was in Ethipioa praying for another month of rain Reeling through the season in treason A prisoner in my own mind The foggy ruins of time Off and far away She said just couldn't obey what the Lord wanted her to say Oh Joan, you burned so fast, so quick, so steadily Never screaming, only beaming Members of the church swore their were moments That you were balanced and the opposite of torment A letter opened But never read A letter received But quickly thrown away as though secretly deceived Pole dancers show their goods as they should Much like drinkers whom some believe To be great thinkers But I ask the wind what she thinks She doesn't hesitate As she coyly Winks
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56
I take my knowledge from architects, medieval painters and galore. I walk along the stretch of times, Read the Canterbury Tales from folks of yore. I've written literature in my own dialect, through the beautiful English language. I find awe in the act of creation, new etymologies where old writers anguished. My words: symphonies of the beloved and dead Beethoven; like the arias of Wagner. I am the high priest, the new catholicicist propogandising as your Cardinal. I am the spiritual technology, provided to the ailment of what we call society. I am the new Ghandi, the Dalai Lama deservedly inspiring your piety. I am the Luciferous angel of life, breathing heaven through the cesspool of Earth. I am the post-modern Romeo and Juliet, Warhol's 15 minutes of fame and worth. I am the Alexander Mcqueen, the metaphilosopher of fabric illusions. I am the lyricist of society, speaking through the castrated eunychs. I am Stephanie Myer, inspiration of vampiric genius to adolescent impressionables. I am Jane Austen, author of new age thrillers such as The Secret and Lesbian Misérables I am the eclipsing of twilight, the post-mortem autopsy of a rotting cadaver. I am Heath Ledger and Michael Jackson, legends inspiring a race of sleeping pill grabbers. I am the Blockbuster, the Titanic Avatar, $4.9 Billion to children in poverty. I am Gangnam Style, 2.5 Billion viewers of the Palestinian Bombings. I am modern philosophe, the birth giver of Socrates, Plato, Nietzsche, Derrida. I am Steve Jobs, terrible father, tyrant and billionaire technological reliever. I am God, the predeccesor and successor of all eternal life. I am Satan, damnation and strife. I am Tupac, rapper of gangster warfare. Inspirational to first world degenerates. I am Oprah, most powerful black woman with white hillbilly aesthetics of Ellen Degeneres. Thank you, to world's only true Genius. Hail Kanye West, our one and only revered Yeezus.
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May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC
I am the next Shakespeare, inspired by Kanye West.
I take my knowledge from architects, medieval painters and galore. I walk along the stretch of times, Read the Canterbury Tales from folks of yore. I've written literature in my own dialect, through the beautiful English language. I find awe in the act of creation, new etymologies where old writers anguished. My words: symphonies of the beloved and dead Beethoven; like the arias of Wagner. I am the high priest, the new catholicicist propogandising as your Cardinal. I am the spiritual technology, provided to the ailment of what we call society. I am the new Ghandi, the Dalai Lama deservedly inspiring your piety. I am the Luciferous angel of life, breathing heaven through the cesspool of Earth. I am the post-modern Romeo and Juliet, Warhol's 15 minutes of fame and worth. I am the Alexander Mcqueen, the metaphilosopher of fabric illusions. I am the lyricist of society, speaking through the castrated eunychs. I am Stephanie Myer, inspiration of vampiric genius to adolescent impressionables. I am Jane Austen, author of new age thrillers such as The Secret and Lesbian Misérables I am the eclipsing of twilight, the post-mortem autopsy of a rotting cadaver. I am Heath Ledger and Michael Jackson, legends inspiring a race of sleeping pill grabbers. I am the Blockbuster, the Titanic Avatar, $4.9 Billion to children in poverty. I am Gangnam Style, 2.5 Billion viewers of the Palestinian Bombings. I am modern philosophe, the birth giver of Socrates, Plato, Nietzsche, Derrida. I am Steve Jobs, terrible father, tyrant and billionaire technological reliever. I am God, the predeccesor and successor of all eternal life. I am Satan, damnation and strife. I am Tupac, rapper of gangster warfare. Inspirational to first world degenerates. I am Oprah, most powerful black woman with white hillbilly aesthetics of Ellen Degeneres. Thank you, to world's only true Genius. Hail Kanye West, our one and only revered Yeezus.
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26
If I had the body of Nicki Minaj The voice of Beyonce, The dance moves of Ciara, The acting skills of Cameron Diaz, The brains of Oprah Winfrey And the creativity of Tyler Perry, I'd be totally FaKe!!!,Yes you got me right! Why?because I wasn't born to be alike with anyone, And neither were you, So don't compare yourself to anyone, Give yourself a break! You're different from everyone else,so why bother being like someone else?its an impossibility anyways,. Embrace your individuality.
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Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
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September 24, I sat in the passenger seat of your silver BMW as we talked about Oprah, and you pretended not to know the song “ Red Solo Cup.” Two strangers conversed as if they were old friends catching up. You placed your hand on my knee, and without skipping a beat I rested mine on yours. When we parked I kept talking hoping it would calm the butterflies in my stomach, but it was too late you lifted my chin with your curled index finger and placed your lips on mine. The butterflies exploded sending an electrifying shock throughout my body. My brain was on fire, as my lips melted into yours. You pulled away with a smile While I examined your eyes, to know if you had felt it too.
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Jan 11, 2020
Jan 11, 2020 at 12:58 PM UTC
That first kiss