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L B Oct 2016
"There in the midst of it so alive and alone
Words support like bone..."  Peter Gabriel's  "Mercy Street"

Orion abandons the sky
dropping his club
casting his belt toward the horizon
Just once, for a moment, he glanced away
from exalted ****
his vanquished prey

He’d seen the picture—
A girl of sixteen
lying awake—muses in her head
eyes shut, arms thrown back
behind pillow
Tee shirt stretch across lean chest
Hips mingle with blankets
She is scattered there
among the minions of her hair
behind her mouth of unkissed words
____

McCaffery's Coffee is open late
He’s seen the picture
Muses in his head
His arm almost around her
Hers on his shoulder
Small—feather-light fingers
lift the hair of his neck
Reaching around her
his hand searches and slides
along her silk-draped hind
...and the view he has is amazing!
___

Music— and waves pounding and lapping
at the life he fears....

Little boat stranded in gray mists
till a thousand tiny birds alight
in a peppering and fluttering
stir of time
in greens of brine
as the sun pries through….
___

McCaffery’s is ready to close
but the owner, knowing
douses the overheads and turns away
leaving candlelight to crouch and duck
and blink in circles

How long and free we
are allowed to gaze....
so full of wind and riffling water
Stars above and stars below
blooming on the floral silk of night
Vespered lilacs exhale
Votives of warmth
beneath his hand
Silk sweating—
familial in their rocking

Distant lightning loosens eternity
You might listen to this music with it:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYw9UrsFJa4
"Swear they moved that sign...looking for mercy"
"I am with the Father.  I'm out on the boat, riding the waves--riding the waves--of the sea"
neth jones Mar 2022
begin the day ; a **** taught of features
in need of clean linen,
    unswallowable meds
    and a diaper change
routine ; that'll teach ya !

they ask her the day of the week
   her name
what year it is
   when is your birthday ?
do you feel any pain ?
   do you know where you are ?

flailing in memory
they just turn off the overheads
  and let her settle into her senility
attend to the physical basics
whilst she's suckered into her own storage unit
  operating like a humming fridge
   with its door slight ajar
    and the small hot bulb
     finking on and winking off

                      - perish well 
                       & in comfort Dear
judy smith Sep 2016
If anyone can make a feral animal print cool it’s Arabella Ramsay. The designer, who skipped the city in favour of the coast a few years ago, has launched a new lifestyle brand in collaboration with her dad Dougal Ramsay, an accomplished artist who has designed ranges affectionately named after all things Aussie; Hello Cocky, G’day Love, Veg Out.

Burnt out from more than a decade in the fashion industry rat race where she had amassed a cult following among adoring 20-somethings and private school girls for her unique apparel, Arabella shut her Melbourne shop five years ago and moved to Jan Juc where her husband has a yoga studio, her daughters play with bunnies and organic eggs are collected from the backyard coop.

Yet the fashion industry has come calling again, albeit in a different guise born of her slower lifestyle and rearing two children. A born and bred farm girl from Kyneton, she has forgone on-trend collections and retail overheads for family-friendly leisurewear and an online boutique.

The print-heavy collection features irreverent Australiana imagery created by her dad: “Bonza” bunnies, cheeky runaway gnomes, larrikin cockatoos, and come summer, a “******” croc print. The coloured sketches run across all-over yardage on leggings, hoodies and T-shirts for men, women and kids.

Dougal says his brief comes from his daughter who then “weaves her magic so the next time I see those drawings they are transformed into cute frocks and tops”.

She has a great eye for pattern and scale. “I enjoy seeing the finished product where a small crab on a skinny leg can grow into a giant monster crab on a rounder leg.”

A successful illustrator and author, Dougal has been fascinated with Australian culture for years, his nostalgic pencil sketching idiosyncratic scenes of country town lifestyles and coastal culture; seedy caravan parks, fishing hamlets and an architectural vernacular that “sadly has pretty well gone now”, he laments.

It was these scenes and Arabella’s own wholesome rural childhood that inspired the father-daughter label. In the spirit of Linda Jackson and Jenny Kee, Arabella wants to “show people the exciting things our country has to offer”, she says of her desire to “celebrate what’s in our back yards and in doing so, tap into the tourist market with a bit of style”.

Manufacturing is done in Australia where possible; a favoured maker is Cheryl, a woman Arabella’s nan found years ago while shopping at Spotlight in Ballarat. “She works from her small shed and has been making my clothes for years. It’s nice having quality control so we don’t overproduce.”

Lighthearted and a little bit kooky, the Dougal range is cultural cringe re-imagined as contemporary cool. Its Instagram (@wearedougal) is a feed of everything from Aussie idioms (Stoked! Strewth!) to summer vacations in Menorca, photography honouring Rennie Ellis, Dougal in the home studio, surf reports and Arabella’s idyllic beach house that has graced the pages of international magazines. Her own sartorial style is an inimitable mix of “70s vintage, preppy, **** and even a bit dorky” that’s equally at ease with the yuppies and the grommets.

“You can basically wear your pyjamas to school pick-ups and your wetsuit to the supermarket,” she says of the local surf town look. “But I still love high fashion and just bought a pink lace Gucci suit for my best friend’s wedding.”

An online purchase, it arrived via the dirt track leading to her secluded beach house. Fair dinkum.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-sydney | www.marieaustralia.com/blue-formal-dresses
Out on the breakers,
In early morning sun
We ran, making near
The villages at dawn,
Laughing in opening
Cafés, steaming with
Our coffees and teas
And broke for beach
The windings of sea,
Breathless of midair,
Brimming with gulls
Overheads and nip,
Love token musics,
Bathed us unto light
And the golden day
Was never endings,
Until next true song,
We sang in low grass
Above the sleepy hill,
Green stones, woken
Towns, we loving so
And so young, where
Birds ringing always
In the pathways brisk
Of newfound dream,
Sailing without to us
Into the Skye touches
We blew eyes of tear
Open, alive, held shy,
In whispered psalms,
Birthing into heavens,
Wings loosed, set free
Two silver cloudy birds,
We flew in old embrace,
My curved hand in yours.
Man Aug 2021
in a Serbian hospital ward
the dingy overheads blink in and out of existence
i wished i were dead
bedside, my mother weeps
saddened by what remains of her boy
what doctors had been able to save
my eyes weigh heavy
the morphine they have me on is strong
stronger still is the pain
radiating, like heat off the hearth
and the woe from my brothers
interred in the earth
you can live
to still die
you can live, dead
but no horrors can you see greater
than the ones in men's heads
Ben Jones Feb 2015
What's new? Have you heard?
Bad statistics up a third
Someone said a naughty word
Candid shot with ******* blurred
Terrorists and pirate fleets
Politician/Mango tweets
Weather bombs, infernal heats
Docu-dramas and repeats
How to drop a size for spring
A kitten with a ball of string
Arguments from either wing
Adverts selling everything
Striking blows, legal highs
Diplomatic compromise
Close ups of the royal thighs
******* wins the nobel prize
A baby drinking anti-freeze
Retention fighting llama cheese
IMFs and IEDs
With overheads and hidden fees
Settlements and legal action
Kidnap by extremist faction
Cartoon dogs and brief distraction
Now, about your next transaction
Shorter cash and longer queues
Horoscopes and cryptic clues
Underpayment overdues
I wonder why they call it news?
JP Jun 2016
In this world, Business often fails are not due to the market conditions but due to the ideology of the person behind the business. The two main factors causes the business unsuccessful, whenever a person proven to be unemployable, he chooses to start a business. To be a successful business man one need a great vision, ambition, thick skin, immunity to discouragement, ability to live in isolation, and should have enough capital to bring in when their is no business to meet overheads. Here, in this world, the business are treated as refugee by some people and as an alternate to employment  Some people enter business to compensate rather than to execute their skill.. The second factor was when a person entered the business they still work like a employee not as an entrepreneur. They never delegate the work, never look out for consultants to guide them, never attend seminars to gain knowledge on their respective field, the participation to the development of Entrepreneur skill is totally absent. They do the entire work, feel tired and loose interest in the short term. The very urgency to meet the success without applying necessary tools are the main cause of failures....
Thomas Steyer Jul 2021
I had an electrician come last week
to fit a light above the back door.
when I got the bill today
my jaw dropped well-nigh to the floor.

I rang up his boss to clarify
why on earth the huge amount?
He promptly explained to me
what I must take into account:

There're expenses to consider
not to mention social security and health
operational overheads and holidays
last not least a plan of accumulating wealth.

It's a free world and up to you, he said
when in need of a professional again,
try find someone cheaper or else
risk your life DIY-ing it. Amen.
Tuffy Mutombo Apr 2022
War
We are on the brink of war, Russia ready to create new scars, NATO promises getting missed, Global leaders afraid to send aid

Families falling apart, painting ****** scenes, on tv screens. Hearing mothers screams, helpless fathers helpless, as they are force fed more stress

Missiles flying overheads like rain showers dropping towers all because a leader is hungry for more power
David Bremner Oct 2016
She doesn't care, Felicity
Which side of the M25 she was born
But I do as the rain
Hammers down the asphalt

The poetry of the concrete collar
Exit ramps, overheads,benzene
Subtly turns me on
As she removes her high heels

'London Orbital' she slowly mouths
while lighting another cigarette
It has three 'O's
Not unlike myself

I watch her from behind the wheel
The motorway's pulse fills the space
Between us and the world
As we wait for the night.
IDK
Dopamine are running low
Black and whites are all I saw
This emptiness
This loneliness

Lying at my bed till 3pm
Never took lunch nor breakfast
I felt like I was drowning
Drowning on regrets
By what ifs and how
I wanted to die right now

Confused as ****
Because luck was never at my side
My mind tells me to pull the trigger
But my body tells me dont

Wearing this fake smile
To ward people off
It was never okay
To be asked if your okay
In my mind I was a warrior
but my brain says I'm not

Oh god please
Praying, let this thing go
This darkness that overheads me
It feels like it was always
a stormy weather everyday
But just clouds and no rain
Am I going insane?

Always fighting
Always troubled
Always seeing this shadow
Always grasping what it is

Then I saw you
and the sun finally came
I didn't even took the blame
It was blinding
But it was warm
and the happy hormones began to swarm

I wanted to make memories again
I wanted to live again
Never did I recognized myself
After you changed me


For it was summer all again
After the long harsh winter
It was warm
and I was happy again
wordvango Sep 2017
meet you in the tender shoots
of weeds growing in the cracks between
the hardest concrete
we'll dine on sunshine peeking through
the tallest man-made mountains
expect  the people walking by to shy away
from us
like we are roaches
and subsist on subway blasts of gas
get ruddy hungry because we are ******
and everyone else is better
cardboard boxes overheads and lonely curled up
rags our pillows
and once a while we find perchance  
a chicken leg thrown out
you are right though
society
you don't want to encourage us with free ****
like food or water
we might breed
Norbert Tasev Apr 2020
For a long time, in a sure, deceptive consciousness, I too believed: Man is a central link in the courtyard of pearls, and his irreconcilable Robinson's instinct drives and drives him into uninhabited realms of ever-new adventures to guide his conscious and evolving intellect to his desired, achievable goals,

whose shores of Atlantis are lined with immortal familiar footprints. - In the age of long-standing eras, a “happy time of peace”, when a person could still have a secure retirement job and did not have to lie down and lie down every day; to hide the coming of executive executioners specializing in eviction, judges of dirt money.

With brain explosions in science, too, new nuclei proliferated and germinated every day, and if you could be a flame instead of an easily forgotten beautiful butterfly, even a bird could easily absorb your happiness - but did you even guess and know how long you could stretch? How long do you get there? "Because your existence, like your tomorrow, is Uncertain!" And the dragged everyday life pierces to the bone, penetrating to the barrier of blood vessels: Overheads and bills are waiting for you as commissioned assassins, they threaten you. - Do you still give up the happiness that can be achieved in return for ensuring your intentional security,

for you were a cautious coward and an alamus: You gave up and did not seek? Like you're a lost fly: You buzz aimlessly, your fleshy wings soaked with buzzing Kematok until finally the scorched resin smell of fly paper and the omnipotent human hand spread it out. Yet to rebel someday: Don't just tolerate that you can't be an equal party, just an emigrant, and resting in foreign conditions, - fidgeting

connection - and you have not been here for a long time Here is just silent, silent despair - Yet every day, as long as your body allows you to greet the first explosive rays, hold your head with your waist outstretched, your luminous brain-torch: Don't despair dust off many times!

Stubbornly, even among unbelievers. As a stubborn Sisyphus, do not stop, and in your selfish wisdom, do not forget it; if your career breaks at your waist, shouting heat-frog behind your back, your new firefly belief
Norbert Tasev Apr 2020
They would hide behind the folds of maternal skirts that protect us for eternity, but there is no forgiveness! Approaching fear and loneliness follow the murderous way silently, destroying it with sudden silence! - On the other hand, you see the happiness of compromised, cynical gazes while tearing yourself away of tears

you hide behind forests! You are looking for a secure ground between the Janus-faced sky and the earth, and you will be afraid of being swallowed up by the alluring mud, the swamp swamp! For whoever can pay what he owes to inferior powers today: Overheads, bills, complicated calculations of statistical mazes - tomorrow he will be degraded into an extramarital alien, and his family will think of the futility of his existence as a lost bachelor like a lay philosopher!

But it's good to hide: With unnoticed and invisible pressure! No one can upset you, on the ruins of your loneliness: It would be good to find yourself back in the captivity of creative kills, to dive back as long as you can - the experience is fast spreading - the last stars of hope, the love Dawn of Love - are always by your side.

Even in your heavy dreams, treated with nightmares, they are easily liberated and comforted - yet you are more and more withdrawn, more and more half-hearted and distrustful: Your winged angel, although constantly watching, intervenes only in exceptional moments! You feel the impending, dull rumbles of people's vengeance: but then we have all sworn to PEACE as a vow of Holy and Inviolable vows, guidance in the total annihilation?

Meaningful, unarticulated responses nowhere; great, sunken, and suspended thought connections of the brain, - lips bang with wide-ranging, obscene words, and echo!

— The End —