"pioneering" poems
I had a gf that used to get called a feminazi,
but no one ever called me a feminanarchist;
I think what we really were is Feminihilists.
FFP opposed ***********
defined as the sexualized degradation,
********** humiliation, objectification,
subjugation, violation, psychological
annihilation, exploitation, & violence
against women as distinguished from
erotica based on the mutuality
of power and pleasure.
According to FFP's pioneering founder Page Mellish,
*********** provides the training for ******
assault & **** results in the objectification
of women; affects women's ability to get equal rights
& equal pay, & encourages men to associate
*** with violence; Page ultimately claimed
that _all_ feminist issues | [ , ], [ ]
are rooted in ***********
& in a 1986 letter to the editor of The Wall Street Journal,
she asserted that FFP is "not against love & not against ***
Page held that all men or women
who did not fight against ***********
were accountable for the violence
against women, claiming that women
who enjoy *********** or rough ***
had internalized the male [gaze] & |
male definitions of power
Page's positions on ***********
have been debated outside FFP,
including with respect to porn's agency
on crime & feminist & gay definitions of ****
Legislation alone was not a solution,
according to Page; it was also necessary to remove _"the need for ****
vehemently anti-censorship & pro-sex,
Page taught me to show everything from
all sides; my other feminista professors
were pro-monogamy [patriarchy] while
Page was a combat boot wearing girly-girl;
she had these cute little doe-eyed Q's following
her around carrying the placards [ ] for her
spontaneous demonstrations against underwear
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 5:54 AM UTC
She stood, amidst tutts, wore a mini skirt...
(From the first decade). Took a
Step forward, pioneering the teenager
Long fair hair, parted mid section
Cascading over her cherry cupcakes
Remembering first impressions aren't always
Accurate, they still berated her without
Knowing her. First appearances were all
They knew and could rely on...back then
Why would she wear a skirt so short if
Respectability meant anything, closed off
They too had been judged, time dulling
Their posture straight backed. Space lacked
Room to be filled with meanderings of another
Era, balancing her book atop red curls and
Speckled egg skin. Recalling the longing
Admiration of someone who dared to wear
Their inner choice on the outside
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 12:25 PM UTC
I do not like the architecture of the mall.
It's discordant and lax. The architects
dismissed all Edwardian charm
and even the Gothic grace.
When crossing my field of vision,
the mall concedes defeat,
whimpering against a prismatic sky:
"I am a hodgepodge of ambition distressed,
resolute on pioneering a style unlike anything past,
but locked off in dead history, trapped
in a monologue whose audience is myself."
I presume it's the same across the world,
architecture molded into something impulsive,
something so forced it falls flat.
Where have all the artchitects gone?
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
Liberating the pixie wings
Swirling ribbons brushing the sky
Running in the ocean's breathe, you the wild horse no man could ever tame
You, The gypsy wanderer trailing the night
huddled in tiny cargo ships pioneering the sky - living on a tin can - in sheer ardor - to be outside from shackles below
The widen gap and the cracked stary sky
Your hands lodged through trying to find;
The teachings of the higher powers
Wisdom, philosophy's power, truth....
And you do, you stand upon a flower bed of knowledge - sharing to the world beyond
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 6:08 PM UTC
The electrification of powerful shocks shoot through me, must be some unworldly connection
I'm the ruler of rebellion, invention, revolution sitting in my palace as I sip from my glass tea cup.
My mind is a whacky world of ecentric waterfalls.
One day the universe drops in my hand
Universal peace and harmony - is my profound calling
I whack out the world - shake it on it's feet - wake it up from it's mindless sleep
Pioneering the stars that those will follow - may you come by my side one day
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 2:47 PM UTC
Dear Poet Friends, I hope you like this slice of Early History presented
below in simple verse. Please do read the short notes at the end, before giving your comments. Thanks, - Raj
ARCHIMEDES : THE PIONEERING
STREAKER OF HISTORY!
There lived in the Third Century BC, in the Sicilian
town of Syracuse, then a Greek colony,
A Greek mathematician named Archimedes.
He was tasked by King Hiero of his town,
To find the purity of gold in his crown;
Suspicious of the goldsmith having mixed
some material of inferior kind,
Which the King wanted Archimedes to find!
So, Archimedes lost in thought one day,
Entered the public bath on his way!
And as his body began to get submerged,
He happened to notice perchance,
Water spilling over from the tub!
The answer suddenly flashed across his
mind,
And he jumped up leaving everything
behind,
Wearing only his birthday suit,
Running through the street of Syracuse,
Exclaiming - “Eureka! Eureka!”
(I have found it! I have found it!)
Perhaps to become the first known streaker
of History!
While establishing the Principles of Buoyancy!
@ (see notes)
Archimedes, son of the astronomer Pheidias,
studied at the great Alexandrian city,
Remembered even to this day for his many
pioneering works, -
In Hydrostatics, Mechanics, and Geometry.
With his ingenious mechanical discoveries,
He held the great Roman galleys of Marcellus
at bay,
For more than three years, as Plutarch the
Roman Historian says! + (see notes)
Later one day, while lost in deep thought,
When some intricate problem of geometry
he was trying to resolve,
Refused to hear Marcellus' bidding,
To be slain by the Roman soldiers who had
come to fetch him!
O those Romans, with lesser brains and more
brawn!
And some hundred and thirty years after
his death in 75 BC,
Cicero, then the Roman Governor of Sicily,
Found the tomb of great Archimedes, near the
Agrigentine Gate, over grown with bushes and
thorns;
Where he lay buried in the scented dust of History!
- Raj Nandy, New Delhi.
NOTES:
@ Principle of Buoyancy = any floating object displaces its own
weight of fluid. So weight displaced by a crown of pure gold and
the one already made could be compared to find the truth!
+ Archimedes designed large stone throwers, & crossbows, and
also grappling hooks using large cranes to grab Roman ships and
capsize them!
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 9:04 AM UTC
We can dream...
"Donald J. TrumpVerified account
@realDonaldTrump
China steals United States Navy research drone in international waters - rips it out of water and takes it to China in unpresidented act."
** Emphasis mine. Trump's misspelling: all his, baby.
**un·prec·e·dent·ed
ˌənˈpresədən(t)əd/
adjective
never done or known before.
"the government took the unprecedented step of releasing confidential correspondence"
synonyms: unheard of, unknown, new, novel, groundbreaking, revolutionary, pioneering, epoch-making;**
Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 5:23 AM UTC
Passionate Prince sitting on a deluxue throne
Shhh.... The rumble of impact comes with exhilerance
Patience will come with practice....
Painting the skies in permanent flames as you tread new horizons
Sticking in your fist in the earth first
Pioneering in motion - your stick is first to rightfully land
You're the child-like star
Shooting forcefully -Disturbing the noise
Your name rumbles in the sky
Standing in your prescence you gleam in the luminescent spotlight
Breathing in power essences that equal of a forest fire
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 12:47 AM UTC
out-seeking the world in
crave of ascertation. to
crave realization of know-
ledge, of others’ wisdom.
seeking experience via lack
of self-preservation, but
the sun rises for this land
of the Old Settlers.
[/thesis]
force settled the young to
drybed rivers. all with killer
statement epitaphs, that is,
words to remember as
darkness follow’d rifle blast –
white shame’s legacy.
images of barbarism as
a means of civilizing, of settling,
pioneering. and cowboy is
racist to the non-farmers of
Texas. (are farmers a race?)
doesn't matter when
they write the epitaphs.
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 10:32 AM UTC
The frequent phenomenon of this empty place,
Gathering energy it cannot replace,
Submerged in darkness, foreshadowing night,
Paroxysm shook, stirring up light,
Out from the chaos four beings stood,
Together infused, singular brotherhood,
Light blends them all mistaken into one,
Thirty-five times stronger, than the power of our sun,
Welcome to the dream; a death omen quartet,
Witness the rider, perceive his regret,
With a single companion, and a crown forged in death,
Perpetually doomed to a violent last breath,
Pioneering our concept of constellations,
Bent at the handle, insidious oscillations,
Corruption was constant, like a plagued medallion,
When he collared his confederate, a maniacal stallion,
Couriers of desecration, colonial devastation,
Oxidizing nations, burning depredation,
Lord and auxiliary, imperial arrogation,
And with a single voice, they declared themselves king,
Welcome to the dream; a death omen quartet,
Witness the rider, perceive his regret,
With a single companion, and a crown forged in death,
Perpetually doomed to a violent last breath.
Jul 24, 2010
Jul 24, 2010 at 7:50 AM UTC
Hordes of mangled marionettes hoard so many histories of mystery,
That I beg in blank brandishing tongues, hounding the hordes most swiftly.
Because I am a puppet master pioneering such a broad pallet of poetic pleasure,
That surely the most silent shamans will sound their poignant sighs in solitude.
And we've accosted such armies--allied only to destruction,
Only to be found in fruitless dust.
Demons will someday antagonize them in blissful anarchy,
But for now we’ll pass an ancient altruistic remedy
And leisurely lull the pull of destruction.
Apr 20, 2012
Apr 20, 2012 at 9:10 AM UTC
Adapted from pg. 571 of Alcoholics Anonymous, 4th Edition
The Black Swan Sanctuary will become a unique and highly successful approach to that age-old public health and social problem, following the crowd... In emphasizing Black Swanism as an integral component of the human genome, the social stigma associated with this condition will be blotted out... "Historians may one day recognize (BSS) to have been a great venture in social pioneering which forged a new instrument for social action; a new therapy based on the kinship of common suffering; on having a vast potential for the myriad of ills of (hu)mankind."
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 3:03 AM UTC
we seesawed on sallow vines,
it gripping the crux of me
mid-swing,
pioneering through overcast intuition,
yet seemingly nearer to the light.
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
Its paralysis in wonderland
Ignoring all the things you can
Building a soapbox out of buried hatchets
On which you finally hope to take a stand
Will you ever be this young again?
I don't know, but don't get mad
when I ignore your gender, man
We split the toll for the long road home
We find ourselves questioning things
that they never wanted us to know
Pioneering sinking ships,
- still being told to 'row!'
A routine change of quarters,
Pushing on every border,
Until you finally feel you've found a home
Where is your light?
Where is your soul?
I guess we've got a ways to go
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 7:47 AM UTC
Tracks by the creek
lead the charge,
a path for future pioneering troops,
boys aged six, seven, eight,
footprints made by me
and our gang
years ago,
running through the woods
chopping our own way
through tall grass, anthill fortresses
crushed by nikes, branches as swords,
sticks as arrows, grenade rocks,
a longing now to return
with them to backyard wilderness,
battlefields and armaments,
and rush forward
as a child soldier, fearless
in fantasy fray.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 12:47 AM UTC
We live in a world with so much to impress us
so many ways to say things that are interesting or deep
but it's really all just pioneering a finite surface
much like the Earth
We may run out one day
with these short lives of ours
we try to take it all in
and hold all the beauty we can
At least most of us do
many people choose to ignore it all
dying having never lived
so sad....
Either way life is a short moment
and it's best to know your own potential
I never feel like I've tested mine enough
and I suppose that's a good thing
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC
deep and wide
this river i must float
(though fording i'd prefer)
swirling eddies
mark its dangerous
course
and how long to reach
the distant bank?
traversing these sharp rocks
and slippery stones,
i must tread carefully.
and having arrived,
will i find
my wagon train's
moved on
and their trail grown cold?
--bruised orange
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 2:32 AM UTC
Outside, night grew darker; stars retracing their paths and the hooded **** riding through the countryside in search of the diabolical olive-skinned female. They circled their horses around a burning campfire with two covered wagons. These weren’t ******* but a clan of Romany pioneering west. Dismounting the robed and hooded Klansmen came out of the darkness and surrounded the lone man sitting at the small fire.
Whoreson’s voice muffled by the thick cotton fabric, said, “We’re hunting a witch, boy. You see any strange women?”
Getting to his feet the man picked up the simmering pewter coffee *** and pouring the contents onto the fire black night was immediate. Men at the rear of the pack were carrying torches that no longer cast any light; the Klansmen blind and unmoving. There was no sound; the explosion silent if that’s what it was. Robes aflame the Klansmen ran berserk and screaming into the woods. The fires wouldn’t go out as some managed to drop and roll; the forest catching ablaze the flames growing precipitously hotter; trapped by walls of white flame the men no longer seeing night were engulfed by the swelling light and heat.
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 5:24 PM UTC
it can be hard to assess necessity in a cesspit,
calculating and scouring different ways to find respite.
it can be hard to commit time against the heart.
finding access to hiatus just to breathe,
it's never been easy to be lazarus.
unsure of consequence, skirting bereavement,
reborn doesn't necessarily imply previous demise,
what's almost new cannot be considered unwhole,
nor can it be trusted as a reprise.
it's an artful venture to learn the cadence of presence,
not an effort or a movement, but something of a lucid sweven,
something nestled in the stitching of the seventh heaven.
autonomously authoring my perception,
desecularizing my intense intent and conception.
understand that the brain is a somatosensory mech pilot,
no shame, no rhythm, just an absently-go-lucky organism,
chasing imaginary crystalline butterflies into the background,
thriving in the quietness, malaprop to say forever semper-vivus.
i consume my need to separate ideas as fuel for philomathematics,
pioneering new tactics, new habits, through acts of active practice,
emphatically denouncing the topical, the maladroit, the labels,
let me sing my own mantra,
humming to the hymn of my own humble tantra.
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 6:12 AM UTC
International designer Vivienne Tam is known for her culture-bridging, East-meets-West concepts in her collections. Her looks are global, often pioneering collaborations that marry fashion with technology. Her knack for blending her cultural roots with a modern design vocabulary in her looks is recognized. Often, her designs are sheer artistry.
Tam is also the author of the award winning book, “China Chic.” Pieces of her collection are a part of the permanent archives of the world’s most prestigious museums, including the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York and the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. Tam also loves the space program and cowboy themes. Inspired by her recent trip to Houston, Texas, she utilizes the NASA logo in her collection. There are also soft suede jackets with fringe and chrome metallic flares, and a ruffled blouse in a blue and white motif. Pretty dresses in beautiful prints and patterns are enhanced with embroidery, sequins and appliques. Some of her looks reflect styles seen on folks at the rodeo. Tam’s signature 3-D butterflies were apparent on her garments. A black Western belt cinched the waist. Good show!
Rhode Island School of Design’s Apparel Design Department showed a rugged, yet fashionable collection of menswear on the New York Fashion Week runway. RISD prepares students to meet the demanding requirements of the fashion industry. The program is built on the philosophy that design and technical skills are mutually enhancing. From functional to experimental clothing, the course is structured to take students through all aspects of apparel design and construction.
RISD’s technical classes proceed from basic to advanced drafting, draping and construction and incorporate the use of computers as a tool for design and product visualization. RISD has offered programs in costume, clothing and fashion since 1918, and established the Apparel Design Department in 1952. Their graduates include such top designers as Nicole Miller, Sari Gueron, Sally Lapointe, Robert Geller and Nicole Romano. Many students have found success with designers such as Michael Kors and Ralph Lauren.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 1:34 AM UTC
In this unknown world of knowledge hilly,
You came as a Mozart in disguise dolly
To teach all teachers how to teach fully;
Benefitted though sad – not meeting daily.
Daily meeting not possible, gave a pulley
Of google drive and we see, hear our folly.
Giving a chocolate, taking note of us, O Alley.
A corollary we get makes us gorgeous frilly
No obfuscatory with him: sometimes chilly,
Times cold, but a hunky-dory, a true deli.
An accurate hortatory for English holy,
Teaching precise pronunciation alley
To improve us from state utter nugatory.
Encouraging, gave chances to all my folly;
Novel, pioneering, predicatory. Never did dally.
Blessed to have such a trainer as lovely lily
Had been an orator, excellent energetic filly.
Marwadi University is blessed with hilly –
The persons so high, so intelligent, O Molly!
Wish to have such a guide in my life daily
So that saccharin be added to life’s chili
And lethargy, fatigue, lassitude goes dully.
Let it be Surat or Morbi or Rajkot or Delhi
Dhanajay, Viral and Brij sir be with me fully.
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 8:36 PM UTC
I'm done with firsts;
I'm done being Eve
and wickedly foraging my way forward.
Pioneering is dangerous,
pawns that went first
had to be slashed down by still others
or their betters,
and those who returned to their familiar land
were cast like Raleigh into prisons of mental standstill
unfulfilled.
The rewards of adventure are great,
But I'm done looking at the world with naive wonder.
I will no longer
be naming new findings after people I barely knew,
like myself,
as explorers before me have done.
I don't want another journey-
to set out in the hopes of finding another place
that resembles home in the smallest way.
I don't want another conquest-
burning the homes of others
so that I might find
an ounce of worth among their possessions,
hoping to define myself
by what I leave left of them behind me.
I'm far too comfortable,
have far too much at stake
to set out again,
uncertain of my return.
I've decided to settle in this wild land-
this New World full of wonders
that I hope will one day become mundane,
but I know they won't.
This land has such heights-
mountains shining in the setting sun
orange and red halos burning on their edges like forest fire passions
and they are reflected
shimmering
on the water's surface
as it lazily rolls tiny hills to lap at the mountains' feet.
That landscape was such a welcome sight
after so long spent on black seas,
nothing but empty grey skies
and my lonely vessel.
Storms beat their drums in ominous rhythms,
the reverberations of their peals on the surface
wreaking havoc,
ripping wildly at sails and heart.
I had feared mutiny
only to be betrayed
by gods in much larger battles.
But I entered the cove, calm,
and its glass comforted me
as the arms of its coast encircled my battered life boat.
Soon the strange sounds of the forests,
that rustling at night at the forest's breath,
animal calls
and the sound of footsteps behind me
were normal.
I would not soon trade
the stability and comfort of this solid bedrock
For the tumult of that sea
No.
I've built my home
out of the strong trees here
that have sheltered me from wind in my journey.
I've harnessed my uncertainty
when faced with this new environment
and now sit in front of a warm hearth,
warm of heart,
and say goodbye to the sea.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 10:42 PM UTC
Pacific, pacifist pampered papa
parading par excellent paragon
parent (parenthetically parochial
particularly partisan) parvenu
passive, passionately paternalistically patient,
paunchy, peaceably pepped, perfectionist,
perceptive, perennially perky, permissively
persevering, persistently personable, perspicuous,
pertinent, phenomenally philanthropic, philharmonic
picturesquely pious, pioneering, piquantly pithy,
playfully pleasant, pleasurably plucky, plummy,
poetically poignant, politely pontificating, popular,
positively potent, powerfully practiced pragmatist,
praiseworthy, prayerfully precious, precise
predominant, preeminently preferable, preparedly
preponderant, presently president, prestigiously
prevailing, priceless, princely, principally pristine,
privately privileged, prized, proactively procreative,
prodigiously productive, proficiently profitable,
progressively prominant, promisingly prompt,
prophetically propitious, prospectively protective,
proudly proven provocative, prudent psyched, puissant,
punctilious, punctually purposeful.
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 1:07 AM UTC