"Wagons East (1994) - IMDb www.imdb.com/title/tt0111653/ Internet Movie Database Rating: 4.7/10 - ‎3,545 votes (stylized onscreen as ‘Wagons East’) is a 1994 western comedy film directed by Peter Markleand starring John Candy and Richard Lewis. The film marked one of Candy's last film appearances although it was not his last film release. His last film, Canadian Bacon which he had completed before “Wagons East,” had a delayed release in 1995. The film was notable for its leading actor Candy dying of a heart attack during the final days of the film's production. A stand-in and special effects were used to complete his remaining scenes and it released five months after his death."

And it’s Wagons East!
John Candy’s last mega-bomb,
Released 5 months postmortem.
Alas, even the sympathy vote stayed home,
Reject the we-owe-it-to-him-for
“Planes, Trains & Automobiles”(1987, IMDB).
The role, like money in the bank,
Earning diminishing returns,
Yielding interest but losing value over time.
The myth of INTEREST:
Das Capital, 2015.
The Prime is at 0%,
Yet, Inflation soars at, well,
At inflationary rates,
Digit-pounding inflation,
Higher food & shelter prices,
Masked ever so cleverly,
So deftly obscured by benevolent gasoline prices.

“Planes, Trains & Automobiles” (1987, IMDB)
Meet Del Griffith,
An obnoxious slob,
A complete schlemiel
(Also shle·miel (shlə-mēl′),
A serene shower curtain ring
Salesman and tour de force.
A film illustrative of everything
We love about farce,
(Merci beaucoup, Molière!)
And love about any
John Hughes/Steve Martin collaboration.

Needless to say,
I watched “Wagons East”
On TV the other day.
It was ten o’clock in the morning.
Will-o'-wisping in the ashtray,
Smoke from my first joint of the day.
The ashtray, a mosh pit carbonara--
Actually, an inverted exoskeleton dome--
One of dem big muthas,
I once free-dived for,
Offshore Mendocino Coast,
Back in the day,
Back when THE FRENCH LAUNDRY . . .
(The French Laundry: Thomas Keller Restaurant Group, www.thomaskeller.com. Chef Thomas Keller visited Yountville, California in the early 1990's on a quest for a space to fulfill a longtime culinary dream: to establish a destination for fine --314 Google reviews · Write a review 6640 Washington St, Yountville, CA 94533 (707) 944-2380. Daily Menus - ‎Make a Reservation - ‎Restaurant)
Back when THE FRENCH LAUNDRY
Paid beaucoup bucks for
Well-tenderized,
Sledge hammered slabs of illegal,
Black Market abalone.
Most assuredly, I digress.

So where else would I be?
My laptop was open & willing,
Legs spread, wet and waiting for
Whatever comes what may.
What came was a film
Earning pitch perfect
Dramatic chops for Candy.
We owe you, Del.
We owe you for this Anthem:
“You wanna hurt me? Go right ahead if it makes you feel any better. I'm an easy target. Yeah, you're right, I talk too much. I also listen too much. I could be a cold-hearted cynic like you . . . but I don't like to hurt people's feelings. Well, you think what you want about me; I'm not changing. I like . . . I like me. My wife likes me. My customers like me. Cause I'm the real article. What you see is what you get.”
But that was then,
This is now.
Wagons East:
A disastrous ****** bomb.
A vapid character jambalaya:
(1) A defrocked doctor
(2) A sagebrush *****.
(3) A queer book vendor.
(4) A Donner Party Survivor
Sounds can’t miss, right?
Or was it a classic Broadway/Hollywood sting?
Redux: “Spring Time for ******.”
N'est-ce pas?
Four *******
Heading east by wagon train;
Giving up on The West,
Heading east for Saint Louie,
Where freaks & geeks go undercover.
Down go their guards.
Camouflaging the chimera,
Transits the urban Wasteland,
Vast & nasty, as it were.

St. Louis, Missouri:
A much more tolerant
Hideout place.
THE WEST:
Just too much of
A hassle, I guess,
Too much for one’s
Flat-lined human mind,
Bored too shitless by
Buffalo turds to venture thought.
THE WEST:
Neorealismo italiano.
Complete Jolting-Joe reality,
A veritable wake-up call
Devouring any & all
Residual romantic fantasies . . .
THE WEST:
Struggle & Drudge,
Life lived west of the Mississippi.

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That’s right: another advertisement,
Smack dab in the middle of
Of the ******* poem!
My invention, by the by,
Putting herein another plug for
A preferred memorial gravesite,
The Shrine To Me!
Situated in Scituate,
(Always wanted to say that.)
Scituate MA (www.scituatema.gov)
Knowing my kryptonite crypt,
My not-marble-nor-gilded
Princely-monument,
Had no chance to outlive
This fakakta rhyme scheme . . .
The Shrine To Me!
My final resting place:
My very tony, exclusive
Sub Zip Code?
The South Transept
Westminster Abbey
The so-called Poets’ Corner,
Of course!

Which brings me to my true purpose:
My true intentions for you this morning?
To publicize the strange Case of
CHARLES ROCKET:
(Go ahead, ******* Google him!)
“Charlie Rocket, found dead in a field near
His Connecticut home on October 7, 2005,
His throat had been cut.
He was 56 years old.
The state medical examiner
Later ruled the death a suicide.”
And if you believe the Coroner,
A Medicine Man &
Master of Self-Interest;
If you give that sharp-dealing,
Proverbial Connecticut Yankee his due,
Then you will probably also think
That millionaire Robert Durst
Didn’t **** Susan Berman,
Even as we see him
Getting away with ******.
Again.

How can I ever tell you that
in the 21st century,
as innocent as you are,
you will be sexualized.

It started with
one peak under that skim cloth
that made you an icon
Halloween costumes
turned your baby face into
the mask of a "babe"

There are no more dogs
struggling to tear your short shorts
now only mutts scattering clubs
hands dangling onto your belt loops
as if they were in the middle of a hurricane

You, Coppertone Baby, didn't know any better
you were minding your own **** business
vacationing on the beach
when somebody had the audacity to snap a picture
of your ***.
Sweet little girl,
you are us.

You are society's expectations of innocent women
so easily willing to publicize our bodies
printed on billboards
sold in magazines
You put your hair up for vanity
but we tie our hair back to avoid
violent hands
You, Coppertone Baby
will never be known as Cheri,
just like today,
we are branded into the clothes made to hide our bodies
but couldn't do it enough
we are the voiceless

We are the shadows hiding behind anatomy
we are nip-slips
we are on the front cover
of ******* magazines
You grew up not expecting it
merely existing
only knowing the words,
"mommy and daddy."

Welcome, Coppertone Baby,
to the present, not so much a gift
where your first words are now,
"thank you"
the camera is constantly pointed
constantly asking you to sit pretty
you will learn to avoid beaches
and only buy the clothes
that suffocate your skin


I know you were meant to sell sunscreen
but how can I ever buy your product
if I can't even hardly
go outside.

Astonishingly! This poetry analogy is partially of a prodigy poet! It is of his endearment and endeavorment in our great Government that desecrated, medicated, sedated and segregated him. Doped! Desperately copping and hoping he made it! To add, no dad! An artistically rad-lad through the bad, the glad, the sad and mad. This destiny of a poet is also of apologies, felonies, formalities, legalities and theories.

Furthermore it’s of mournful and scornful-laughter! Capture and rapture, dreamingly and seemingly, chapter after chapter... Pondering and wondering is there a happily ever after? This destiny of a poet is heavenly,  randomly and religiously, tellingly of lots of many thoughts! Some adventuresome, awesome, burdensome, fearsome and gruesome! Some loathsome, lonesome and wholesome!

Some of dreams, schemes and many themes! Some deemed and seemed differently, discriminately, indecently or racially true, from some views. Some askew and blue! Some of clues, of Jews, of taboo, tattoos and voodoo! This destiny of a poet; stunningly who could’ve and would’ve thought once, twice or thrice of this price? Of the cheers and peers, the jeers, the leers,
the tears and weary years... Therefore I say, some artist’s

clever art may create, dictate, relate and translate similar-thriller craftsmanship with negative, positive or relative penmanship. However, typically some probably will publicly criticize as a travesty. Some will harmonize, some will publicize or socialize, some will disrespect as imperfect, some will neglect, some will respect as perfect! Hark! I remark; brethren, children and women keep and upkeep that

creative spark! For in the dark or as you embark. Literally, morality and reality is in my poetry and story. Expect excellent, brilliant, decadent, resilient talent and testaments! Basically on final note! I positively devote, quote and wrote these eccentrically optimistic, rhetoric and theoretic poetically lyrical rhyming notes. Finally and bluntly, do not negatively amend, bend, pretend or transcend this end. Amen...

I wrote something that I did not mean
When I write that, I feel it’s unseen

In real, I make someone else’s thought mine
Publicize it and leave others to opine

These actually are one liner’s lifted from popular text
I dissemble and exude that I take my life at best

I am the ideal of all humans in my words
For similar situation in real, I am truly reverse

My online life is most beautiful on earth
Whereas offline, I am rehashing in vain to cover up dearth

My posts are full of inspiration and energy
If you meet me in real I am full of lethargy

Why dupe to be a connoisseur and be a commonplace
At least quote the source, give true author some space

Be eclectic and original in expression
Write such that it’s never been done

*Bharti

(footnote)

2100 years ago a band of Jews defeated the Greek army
And drove them off their land, reclaiming the holy temple
In Jerusalem and rededicating it to the service of god.
when they sought to light the temples menorah
They found only a single cruse of olive oil that
escaped contamination by the Greeks.
Miraculously the one day supply lasted eight days.
The sages instituted the festival of Chanukah
To publicize these miracles.
The Dreidel which is a four sided top with a
Hebrew letter on each side which means
“ a great miracle happened here”
was used later on in the years to give thanks to god
Without the enemy knowing that they were praying.
Chanukah, the Jewish festival of rededication, also known as the festival of lights, is an eight day festival beginning on the 25th day of the Jewish month of Kislev.
Chanukah is probably one of the best known Jewish holidays, not because of any great religious significance, but because of its proximity to Christmas. Many non-Jews (and even many assimilated Jews!) think of this holiday as the Jewish Christmas, adopting many of the Christmas customs, such as elaborate gift-giving and decoration. It is bitterly ironic that this holiday, which has its roots in a revolution against assimilation and suppression of Jewish religion, has become the most assimilated, secular holiday on our calendar.

Christmas and Chanukah are known world wide
But these two faiths do not collide.
They walk hand in hand
For they came out of the promised land.

You see : the son of god was born a Jew
The Romans felt this was taboo.
No other religion could exist
This was controlled by the Romans fist.

JESUS preached in synagogues throughout the lands
Something that the Romans did withstand.
His own people wanted his death
But little did they know
That with this- a new faith would grow.

The cross on which he died became a symbol
Of Christianity, and that’s the way
God meant it to be.

Chanukah is eight days of giving while  the Christian
Holiday is just one day ,but during these
holidays we all kneel and pray.

We give GOD thanks for all the beauties of the earth
And for family and friends, and it is something
That will never end.
As long as man holds a belief in their hearts
And faith,-then all will be overcome and
Let GODS will be done.

© L . RAMS

You, you are a
Thermodynamic
Buoyant
Force
******* like the
single-minded
Octopus
that takes and takes
Strong energy,
mild energy
Inhales the organically-grown
Petals
of all flowers, regardless
Good intentions.
that sure is nice
What humility,
Artificial
Plastic
Egotistical
Manufactured
Trademarked
Birthed  
Regurgitated
and
too thoughtfully acted by
You.
But I see it.
You have
not landed.
The world needs your
footprint but
it does not need your self-indulged
hunger.
Be humble.
Your success is not
marked if
You are not humble.
Keep your tentacles
in your depths and
Be
Poised
Poised you seem to be and success is your process but
Humility is my truth.
We float on
neighboring clouds of
public service
that have not the same hue.
Take a step back.
I see you mean
No harm
like a dinosaur with no arms
Good intentions.
Take a step back.
You desire to envelop others yet
You do so
so
mindlessly
I see it.
Let your brain rest from the throne.
the world does not serve you
It serves nothing
and no one as
We are all lucky.
You say that you’re lucky
For all
to hear
just to endear
And that is the problem
My dear, be poised.
Publicize your life for
documentation?
No
Take a step back.
We need your
love
compassion
independence
ambition
Real
not fake.
Transform this and
Good intentions.
The world is not yours
You walk on its leaf
and repeated, recycled
identities
Take a step back.
The world is not yours.


Cameron Bell, Copyright © 2019

They publicize Education with promise of security. Falsifying all your leizure and reward.
Yet,
While you drown your accounts with tallies and numeric rallies they develop the technology to summarize, tax, bill you with your debt and fill your mold in the position you strained and craved for.
Broken and stacked back rattling
You stand on a pile of panic and,
Manicly fade into the grave they plotted, and you dug.

Technology is our downfall.

We see the button and push it
Free of refrain.
Curious, instantaneous passionate trust in all the oncoming waves of silicone information.

The image is cast;,..
It attempts and so succeeds in including you in this performance
This, plastic
These fading lights.
Everything
              Burns
                     Out

So it seems our nation is fueled by a finite flash.
With the filaments finally finkled out, the bright idea gone,
The shepard is shot and the sheep are frenzied.

As the population grows great in numbers alone, the engine is fixed with rusted parts and the plan...
A long, smooth drive with the emergency brake cranked the whole way.
We'll see just how far mediocre runs,

We'll see...

Dear Gwen Stefani Circa 2006,
The first music I chose to like that wasn’t
just my mom’s tuning of the radio was

Your solo CD, the first and best of two, which
I made sure to get on my twelfth birthday, after
I made sure to get my first kiss.

We were not rookie sixth graders anymore,
In soggy bathing suits teeming with pubescence,
So I publicized my plans to plant one on

Yeorgios Mavromatis, the new seventh grade boyfriend,
The first boy to buy me jewelry I would not like,
The first boy I used to make myself infamous.

Our hallway bottlenecked with twelve year olds,
Alone we sat on the bed, legs dangling above
The stained beige carpet. The kiss was damp and boring.

But the crowd that pressed at the door was an ******,
Surged voices told me my dad was walking up the stairs,
I arched around to throw the boyfriend in the closet,

My father caught me, and I wore the walk through them
Like your scarlet lipstick. The album of
My first kiss was not passion, but gossip.

I’ve seen you in red lipstick, bindis, and blue hair,
A pink wedding dress, and a Platinum Blonde Life.
I knew you were making art meant to publicize.

The songs and the clothes and the Harajuku Girls,
The boys and the clothes and the Children’s Theatre,
The day I made a scene was the day I knew.

Catholic guilt and couture gilt and creative goals
Took two West Coast girls, only twenty three years apart
And turned them into people you paid attention to.

the world relentlessly confuses
Tragedy with Art.

We commercialize anxiety
and weigh the profit margin after the cost of therapy.

So that we can play again
and repeat.

So that we can feel whole.
Understood.
Real.
On the backbone of another's suffering.

On the bloodied palms of a fist held too tight.

On the dry cheeks of a face ravaged by tears.

We hold onto this pain.
We publicize it.

Push it like crack in the streets.

people mistake our breaks in reality
For redemption.
Corrosive acid.
that you can hold in your hand.

(footnote)

2100 years ago a band of Jews defeated the Greek army
And drove them off their land, reclaiming the holy temple
In Jerusalem and rededicating it to the service of god.
when they sought to light the temples menorah
They found only a single cruse of olive oil that
escaped contamination by the Greeks.
Miraculously the one day supply lasted eight days.
The sages instituted the festival of Chanukah
To publicize these miracles.
The Dreidel which is a four sided top with a
Hebrew letter on each side which means
“ a great miracle happened here”
was used later on in the years to give thanks to god
Without the enemy knowing that they were praying.
Chanukah, the Jewish festival of rededication, also known as the festival of lights, is an eight day festival beginning on the 25th day of the Jewish month of Kislev.
Chanukah is probably one of the best known Jewish holidays, not because of any great religious significance, but because of its proximity to Christmas. Many non-Jews (and even many assimilated Jews!) think of this holiday as the Jewish Christmas, adopting many of the Christmas customs, such as elaborate gift-giving and decoration. It is bitterly ironic that this holiday, which has its roots in a revolution against assimilation and suppression of Jewish religion, has become the most assimilated, secular holiday on our calendar.

Christmas and Chanukah are known world wide
But these two faiths do not collide.
They walk hand in hand
For they came out of the promised land.

You see: the son of god was born a Jew
The Romans felt this was taboo.
No other religion could exist
This was controlled by the Romans fist.

JESUS preached in synagogues throughout the lands
Something that the Romans did withstand.
His own people wanted his death
But little did they know
That with this- a new faith would grow.

The cross on which he died became a symbol
Of Christianity, and that’s the way
God meant it to be.

Chanukah is eight days of giving while the Christian
Holiday is just one day, but during these
holidays we all kneel and pray.

We give GOD thanks for all the beauties of the earth
And for family and friends, and it is something
That will never end.
As long as man holds a belief in their hearts
And faith, -then all will be overcome and
Let GODS will be done.

louis rams

THE MARRIAGE DAY
Marriage  in human life
Brings a man a wife
And a woman a husband
Who make their lives grand

It adds honour to one’s personality
And brings clarity to our duty
It brings joy to the bride, groom
And to every body in the betrothal room

It is not to unite two bodies
But to ignite two souls
It may give the couple a son
Who shines as bright as the sun

It may give them a daughter
Who is as useful as water
And makes their lives better
Why don’t we celebrate it on twitter?

We may celebrate it in peculiar ways
In different countries
The rituals may be variant
But the bond should  be permanent

Marriage makes the two people one
And makes their life a fun
It makes the civilization run
Why don’t we publicize it as  much as we can?

Enhance discreet insanity,
Step onto the balcony.
Vent through your lungs,
Leave your skin behind.

Everyone desires
A dancing fool. Publicize
The art of embarrassment.
Ears are simply an attachment.

Branding opinions mouths,
Shooting out tension through
Distinct fingertips. Let your
Hair wave naturally.

Only one knows what you are:
Bolts, metal exterior, flashing eyes.
Give up the truth and scream
Your mind. Fall for your own kind.

I will spread my opinions like a plague,
which is exactly how they'll paint them.
By "them" I mean the proverbial "they."
The ones who will color me as paranoid and insane.

They'll say not to listen;
to disregard it all.
It's the nature of the games they play.
They push us to the edge,
Then publicize the fall.

Do not watch the news.
Ignore all commercials.
Pursue beauty and truth;
embrace the controversial.

"Any book worth banning is a book worth reading,"
so read them all with zest.
If you get the feeling that I'm preaching,
remember,
only you know what is best.

Onward Christian soldiers
Off to ****** more.
With the cross of Jesus
Adding up the score.
**** as many as you can
In the name of Him
He, the guy who taught you love
Whose light is going dim.

Take the words that Jesus said
Twist them up your way.
Make the talk of prejudice
Throw the book away.
If someone is different
Make a joke of them.
Make up lies to publicize
In the name of Him.

Call the Christian soldiers
To put down the poor
If they dare to congregate
At the nation’s door.
Teach them only Christians
Get to share the loot.
And they have to be the right
Kind of church to boot.

Bless you Christian soldiers
God is on our side.
Fight against those other folks
Please keep back the tide.
Good people are like us;
Stand behind the cause.
Christian white and Protestant
Just like Jesus was.

they massacred my
words, little infants,
reduced a family into the
most valuable survivors
to publicize, capitalize
upon, and, once seized,
demolish all tangible
ties to its siblings its
heritage its truth its
web of conversations

A cherry fencing: Croton hedges.
Pile wood and bricks made up the circumferences:
I have seen rooftops rusting after weeks of heavy rain
Shirtless cyclist speed passes the old brick house

Where no children seem to exist on the main road;
Where the lambs can be seen grazing on dry lawns,
As the sun ray reflects on your camera lens:
I promise to call you back later
before you drift deeper into a slumber.

Depression, confession and denial,
Reality never seems to exist in your world
There is no solution for chronic unhappiness:
only daily words of kindness to ease the madness

Love does not claim possession, but gives freedom.
Quote - Rabindranath Tagore

Did you deserve it, did you deserve to be treated this way
You should have marry the good daughter,
She would have eventually
Turn out to be the good wife:
I am in another town
Thinking of you day by day, hour by hour
Composing a poem while observing,
the good, the bad, and the ugly
Of what family does to each other mental impairment?

A family in harmony will prosper in everything
As the stories were told
Where the beauty used to grow now hatred follows
by the village carpenter putting bolts on the front door
To keep the enemy within: as it was broadcast in the recording:
“There wasn’t any bolts were on the front door Burt, you said”.
The law is that nothing should be done so on the property”

The rose petal crumbles back to the soil, as she said that he was
sick in his head: just like the dead locks on the carpenter head
The garden hose slowly rolled back in a circle. By the sound of her voice
The suffering was so obvious, the abuse was publicize

You drifted back in time: To a place where you felt happiness
You drifted back to me: back to lovely memories
Never mind our outlook on life leads to two different journeys
Broken hearts, and disappointments
We encounter so many injuries and they heal
But broken hearts never mend:

*The more I begin to suspect there is no such thing as unhappiness; there is only ungratefulness.”

A little not to Kiri Petro Sino*      

Some phantasms are like my lovers
Neither faithful nor trustworthy
My memories of them is slippery
Not kind, but phantasms
This left a bad taste in my mouth
Sad as it might seem:   I do not sympathize

Not all phantasms were my lovers
I think of them on bad days,
Some are losers, wearing the badge of shame
Not publicize, but hidden like a crouching tiger with it hidden sword:
They hid behind the skirt of their new loves:  griping,

They defeats and their regrets in life shows in their everyday life

Forgiveness is an act of self-love and respect.
- don Miguel Ruiz

My kind of forgiveness might be an emotion
Its turning that page of my life:
Without reading the Contents to the end smoothed me

Some of my phantasms are my everyday peers
  I think of them as lost poets without words
deep with their thoughts: individuals who are
afraid to express themselves to the fullest.

To empathize and sympathize
Rather than criticize and publicize
Issues that cause fissures in his foundations
Keeping him upright and safe from tribulations
Is so much more rare.

To listen and disengage
From all else but whoever is speaking so he has the stage
Will help release him from the cage
Of hopelessness, loneliness, and ridicule;
Doing so shows you care.

To comfort and support and love
Will demolish all fears and rise above
What bogs him down so far into his heart and mind
That he feels he is lost, he can't find
His breath, choked by a lack of air.

To provide and subside
All of your own problems, to let them slide
Even if momentarily, for another human being;
In doing so, you are growing, learning and seeing
That love and compassion were meant to share.

This tributary
Happy accident
Shyness
Flagrance
Deeply inspected

This notorious
Dearth, designed my life
So why
Not write
Why not paint pictures?

The donor with the ink
The spread recipient
Left and stayed

The ink that he left fades
The fade that he left stains
She made the mistake of
Looking for love as an anchor

Two lovers' worth or lack alike
Fabricate their draft designs
I'm incomplete, a mess
Two lovers' worth or lack alike
Fabricate their draft designs
A complete mess

Best if I reverse design
and I publicize
notorious dearth as proper opulence

please do not publicize my spiral:
my dying wish, the epitaph i've tattooed on my chest.
please be quiet. i do not want to be a cautionary tale- a naked body on the edge of a highway; caked blood and stilettos
i don't want a story
let me fade. please, let me fade.
something to be exhumed later,
renamed after someone i'll never meet.
i want found-in-the-forest-please-come-and-identify
remains. a shell, a corpse,
but not a body
not something that held a person.

i want to distance myself from myself.

My scars are not ******* beautiful
The thought of someone carving into themselves just to feel something should not be romanticized The numbness that ran throw my veins and made my blood run cold is not something to publicize My body shame is not something that i take pride in.
Boasting about hurting yourself is so unethically wrong it makes my skin craw. Now spreading the word and making these problems known is appropriate. In fact it is necessary. So many young adults and teenagers go through this horrific battle alone. They think they're going absolutely insane but little do they know that there is someone a phone call away that can safe them from this treacherous addiction.

Having these thoughts
Of why?
Why do I have to publicize myself as ****?
So a boy can sweep me off my feet?
So I can have thousands of followers,
Who tell me all the time I look beautiful
With all these
false lashes, fake weaves, cake on my face
Why is this beautiful to you?
And why am I shamed if I don't do it?
I'm sorry if I'm "old school",
But I'll happily prance around in your long t-shirts.
Make up free,
Wind kissing my scalp as my natural hair blows free,
Sun radiating off my skin,
Melanin issued by the Gods.
Thank the Gods I'm just me.
Carefree, eventually.
Until then I'm part one versus part two.