I feel at one with sweethearts
Through the years,
With the wartime lovers
Who went overseas,
All the shattered hearts,
All the rivers of tears,
I feel them all.
Verses of love,
Lovers who must part,
Portraits of love
Worn so very close to the heart,
All the lovers lost,
Loves that never even start,
I feel them all.
I've got a lot on my plate these days.
I glance around, find an empty booth, and slide in.
I hate my job.
The owner, an older Chinese man, smiles and brings water and a menu.
Money is tight, it's always tight.
Mongolian beef today, I think.
I have no passion for life, my dreams just confusing mashups of the past.
Wonton soup like always, the fried strips melting into the broth.
My friends are gone, lost to time and distance and I feel so alone.
The owner brings me a gorgeous looking plate full of food, I thank him.
The love of my life finds more excitement in his computer than in me.
Tender beef, saucy peppers, perfectly steamed rice.
I search books for romance, fiction won't tell your secrets or get jealous.
Half the meal goes in a box for later.
My bed is as cold as my heart, no sleep will deter my exhaustion.
An almond cookie makes the check easier to pay.
Maybe I should be on medication. Maybe I should break up with my boyfriend. Maybe I should cut my hair. Maybe I should stop eating. Maybe I should move back home.
I pay at the counter and thank the man for an excellent meal as always.
I tuck my credit card into my wallet, my feelings into the deepest part of my mind so that I can make it another day without falling apart.
At least I have enough leftovers for dinner.
On the train to Haifa
I think about my father
in wartime Palestine,
a different time, a different name
but the same place.
His memories of oranges and beaches
and warm, Mediterranean swimming
are the times he chose to rescue
from the six years when the world
was drowning in its own blood.
The weather is blue and grey
but the sun shines
like my father’s medals
on his blue-grey air force uniform
that entranced me as a child.
As the helicopter gunships prowl over Mount Carmel,
speeding north to Lebanon,
I wonder what times I will choose to rescue
from a land built out of longing,
but paid for in blood.
MELANIA TRUMP WONT HOLD MY HAND
I LOVE YOU MY DARLING ITS TRUE
WE ARE ON THIS IMPORTANT TRIP
I WANT TO HOLD YOUR HAND I DO
JUST KEEP YOUR MIND ON THE JOB DONALD
AND LEAVE MY HAND ALONE
JUST CONCENTRATE ON YOUR DUTIES
YOU CAN HOLD IT WHEN WE GET HOME
PLEASE DONALD YOU MUST MAKE A GREAT SPEECH
YOU MUST ALSO PRAY AT THE WALL
AS I SAID BEFORE DON'T HOLD MY HAND
JUST PLEASE FOLLOW THE BOUNCY BALL
It's weird not having you here, daddy
I know you would've rather had mom and me along overseas,
But you're going to be busy out there
No time to see the sight-lines or soak in the foreign air.
Just come home soon, daddy.
I don't like it when you're overseas without me.
To know he is my soulmate
Is the same as to know,
That the grass under my feet is green
There is no trace of doubt in my mind
As if the world is yelling “yes” to my very being,
Into every fiber of my body
His love trickles in more and more each day
Like soft rain soaking into my hair
Everything I say to him he must already know
For something magical has told him so
To explain is so simple, yet
From the outside world misunderstood
To feel this way which never once
I have felt before, so in love is one thing
But in love and so free
My body misses him so, as he says to me
Yet our hands have not yet touched
Reaching from across the sea
Like we have been in love once before
Many times is my only guess
I have never felt so calm and in love,
Like the same feeling you get when holding
Something so pure and innocent like a newborn
I feel a flow of love which will never disappear
Probably the most prolific Singaporean designer, Gn graduated from the renowned Saint Martins School of Art and Design in London and the Domus Academy in Milan before joining Emanuel Ungaro in 1992. He launched his namesake label in 1996, establishing a fan base among the Parisian high society and A-list celebrities such as Jessica de Rothschild and Sarah Jessica Parker for his luxurious fabrics and exquisite embellishments. Gn was awarded the President’s Design Award in 2007 and is stocked in all the major continents, with his atelier based in the Le Marais district in Paris.
The other Singaporean high fashion designer to hit big time in the international circuit, Isham established his namesake label in London in 2000, and is a show fixture at London Fashion Week. The label is known for its sharp, contemporary tailoring and high-octane glamour, and is a hit among film, TV and music stars as well as British royalty.
Self-taught designer Danelle Woo creates easy-breezy, ultra-feminine pieces in sustainable fabrics. Aijek is stocked at multi-label boutiques in China, Hong Kong, Malaysia, Indonesia, Latin America, the Middle East and the United States.
The neo-Gothic ready-to-wear label’s stark, minimalist designs are stocked in Hong Kong, Belgium, Japan and the U.S., and counts celebrities like Adam Lambert and The Black-Eyed Peas as fans.
The feted Singaporean designer stocks her easy-to-wear pieces from her namesake label at multi-label boutiques in the United States, the Fred Segal store in Japan and a London-based online store Not Just A Label.
The avant-garde label features experimental silhouettes and a contemporary artistic flair, and is stocked in Europe, the Middle East, San Francisco and Taiwan.
This stylish menswear brand founded by designer Nelson Yap in 2009 now has two stores in Melbourne and offers custom tailoring as well. It also offers shipping to Australia and New Zealand via its website BenjaminBarker.co. .
In Good Company
The well-loved minimalist label with unusual silhouettes fronted by designers Sven Tan and Kane Tan is stocked in Hong Kong at Kapok, at various departmental stores in Jakarta, Indonesia, including Sogo, Seibu and Galleries Lafayette Jakarta and in New York’s Saks Fifth Avenue.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-sydney | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-brisbane
the cost is cheaper
in those destinations
yet medical tourist
can acquire those many unforeseen
infections after operations
the theaters of surgery lacking hygiene
our health services need to act quickly
surgery should be made affordable
then folks from here wouldn't require
cost saving operations
in countries overseas
those staph infections
would cease pronto
our jets not
In the past, my country
cradled me in her bosom.
Today, I held her in my arms,
felt her slip away.
I lost my country today:
gave her up to synthetic medicine,
and pie-charts, overseas.
I prayed while watching attempts made
at her resuscitation—
impatient hands held out pens,
prodding me to fill in the proper forms.
The world is on lithium.
My country was on lithium;
for her, vibrant colours turned
into a monochromatic spectrum of grays.
In the end, her heart gave out
from having spent too many decades
within a capitalistic cage.
She had an organ donor card—
her organs were sold off one-by-one
while she was still alive.
Her organs were replaced
with nationalistic flags,
and roaring stadiums.
Men from every standing,
groped Motherland's body.
Many men had laid with her.
Oh, how they did.
At least some men displayed decency,
graced her with loving caresses;
they were few, between the rape
that led to miscarriages,
and live-births of degenerates
Lithium is slipped into my drink,
so I purge daily,
horrified by my country's overdose.
She looks decrepit, laid out in the morgue;
a cardboard tag hangs from a big toe
like a foreclosure sign.
I will have to give her a proper burial
within my heart,
for they are going to have Mother embalmed,
encase her in a glass coffin,
and put her on display.
Our Mother passed away,
yet her corpse-land remains behind.
I will walk across clear-cut ridges
and through neon-lit distractions
as a gypsy vagabond.
From now on, the territorial lines
mean nothing more to me than rules to follow,
maintained by a system turned empty-hollow.
I lost my country today:
gave her up to synthetic medicine,
and pie-charts, overseas.
As I held her in my arms,
I felt her slip away.
April 30th, 2012
"Your Mac battery is running dangerously low."
It made me laugh that they used the word dangerously.
Just how dangerous could a low computer battery be?
Stall your Netflix watching or your Pinterest spree.
But then I thought about skype calls cut off as a father overseas is watching his baby being born.
Or a start of the wedding march as the bride in white stands adorn.
I started to think about how something innocent can become the most dangerous thing in the world. How the usage of the medium decides the power it stores.
Like a Mac battery being dangerous, another thing which is not to toy.
Three words put together and said in one accord.
"I Love Pizza." is nothing to remark.
"I love you." can start a dangerous.
Disenfranchised nation, stand together, hold your brothers up!
Advantage lies overseas!
Third world work ethic can keep profits from plummeting!
Eat in the restaurants you work in!
Pick up your trash, along with the city's!
Buy the books your students need!
Employee discount is considered a raise!
Wrap your third-degree burn with your third degree!
Start to think about getting a job overseas!
#occupyboston The BPD respects
your right to protest peacefully.
We ask for your ongoing cooperation.
The BPD asks reporters to leave
the inside of the camp
they don't want them to record
and report on what they're about to do.
Cops give Occupy Boston
five minutes to vacate.
Nobody is leaving.
The police are beating the Veterans for Peace
Cops arresting everyone.
We are being beaten.
KEEP TAKING PHOTOS.
I walk there as my legs will cary me...
All quiet on the western curb
Over 100 arrested and spread amongst
more than five separate jails—none close by.
Camp two is gone and camp one intact. for now;
The ecstatic crowd, arms linked, chants
"Who do you protect? Who do you serve?""
Hyperbole all around.
Injustice or public safety?
...It hardly even matters.
The people are on the streets again
The military is overseas but
this time, the war is at home:
Men and women in blue,
likely just doing their jobs,
fighting people without them.
I fear the 99% fights itself
Rumors flit about. Crackdowns abound
Dallas, Atlanta, St.Louis, Seattle, &
San Francisco: from sea to writhing sea
The chickens have come home to roost and
The pigs are bringing home the bacon
The professionals were cleared out,
but the media wasn't. The talk is on
line by line, it is lively, ever-streaming:
blogs and tweets; statuses, state by state.
Rumors created. Rumors dispelled
Proof offered. Faith destroyed.
Anger engendered. Assumptions reinforced:
The people are connected
but the disconnect remains
Between rich and poor, yes, but maybe worse than that:
this movement is only as United as these states
The basic principles the same, the practice not so much
Peaceful, yet violent; Pro-capitalist, anti-corporate
"a laughable gang of disorganized, confused Nazis.
an ill-disciplined, highly-trained, weed-smoking,
First the Tea Party and now this,
Demonstrating the strength & flaws of Democracy
even as they protest the flaws of Republic
Still, they are not so different
They sit in parks by day and sleep at night
in dorms, apartments, houses, tents. Uncomfortable
Wrapped too tightly in sheets of red, white, and green.
Trying, desperately, to wake up from the American Dream