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judy smith Aug 2015
First of all, if you think I watch Bachelor in Paradise, you’re nuts, so this week’s UnREALfinale came at the perfect time — ending almost alongside its inspiration — exactly one week after, as perhaps an attempt at upping last week’s insane finale. Between then and now, we even heard what host Chris Harrison had to say about the Lifetime homage, and it went something along the lines of, I am super-jealous that it’s good and smart, and my show is neither of those things. Just kidding! He didn’t say that, but I just spelled out the subtext in case you happened to miss it.

Speaking of subtext, one of Quinn’s first lines to Adam this episode unknowingly predicts what is about to unfold. They banter about what went down the night before (you know, just Adam rejecting Rachel after she leaves Jeremy’s bed to run away with him on that private jet of his), and she assures him: “That’s why I’m here. To protect Rachel from herself.” That’s some honesty, I think, despite this show’s attempts at spinning you around so quickly with reveals that you aren’t quite sure who is trying to do what.

She had just left her own version of the Carrie Bradshaw Post-it Note on the pillow next to Jeremy — ”I don’t deserve you!” — but a note so manipulatively vague in its brevity, it could be read a few different ways. But as Perfume Genius plays, it’s clear Quinn got to Adam with some sort of deal-breaker information that we discover later: She tells him about last season’s breakdown, that Rachel checked into a hospital. Rachel denies the second part, but the first is totally true: Quinn knows Rachel is unstable. Sure, she’s warning Adam for her own selfish reasons, but in retrospect, she also knows this fling is a horrendous idea for both of them. “This thing we have? It’s ******,” Adam tells her. Is it a line fed by our “concerned” executive producer? Possibly. Either way, it certainly feels true.

And it’s unbelievably hard not to watch this finale without imagining theories for season two. It puts you in Quinn’s mind-set, and who’s planting the seeds for her next season. And just like us, she needs Adam and Rachel. She doesn’t need Chet, but thanks to our new field producer, Madison, and future featured cast member, Dr. Wagerstein, he goes straight to Brad and makes sure the deal Quinn had with him behind his back isn’t going to happen. “You know who I am,” Chet says to Quinn, excusing his cheating. Quinn answers: “She was me 15 years ago. So now I’m the wifey and you need a new side piece.” It’s the Circle of Trash, and she’s out of the game.

.. Despite the eye makeup, Rachel’s back to unreadable. It’s safer that way. She’s also going to produce the big wedding finale. Quinn’s basically like, Whatever, as long as we take down Chet. Rachel’s fine with that, and if these two can’t craft this guy’s downfall together, they’re not cut out for this business.

When she enters from stage LOL, we assume the return of Brittany is Rachel’s finale showstopper — but it’s not. Chet brought her back to act insane and say wonderfully catchy, ****** things. If you’re a Bachelor/ette watcher, you’ll recall this also being quite accurate in the canon — runner-up creep Nick from this season was a returning “character.” Bringing someone back for a second chance at love is a good way to rile up the remaining hopefuls.

Not that it bothers Grace at all. She promises Adam exactly what he wants to hear: He’ll get laid and get out after next season. She says something about being a “hot-blooded Latina temptress” — words that no human would ever actually say — and you wonder if she’s been fed a line or if UnREAL’s writer’s room got a little overzealous here. I guess one of the magical things about this show is that it’s pointless to try and tell. But is he into it? Rachel isn’t — she tells Grace that even she’s slept with Adam — insane admission, considering she’s trying to keep things up with Jeremy. Doesn’t matter: He gets it out of Adam, who confirms that Rachel is a cheater. It also confirms that Jeremy isn’t a total idiot, something we all previously had assumed.

This Royal Wedding will take place in London at the Cromwell castle, which is all done up, Everlasting style. Adam’s grandmother is not only as obnoxious as he is, she’s also a total racist — telling Adam after he mentions Grace: “We don’t marry brown people.” She puts his reputation back in play and he buys it, ultimately choosing Anna as his bride-to-be. When it comes down to it, he’s a truly ****** guy. Rachel’s Big Plan is basically to trick Adam into “telling” Anna that he’s not really into her. It works, and she plays runaway bride. It’s live TV, so Chet looks bad in front of Brad (nice one, Quinn!) and we end our season of Everlasting with Anna majestically walking down castle stairs, calling Adam “a cheating ****” (true) who is “not that smart” (also true). At first guess, it seems Anna just earned herself a Bachelorette-style spinoff.

And to think that before this episode, so many of you were Team Adam. Not that the other option is a great one — Jeremy got down on one knee and ... nope! He didn’t propose; he told everyone that Rachel is poison and a cheater. He then went straight to her parents’ house and told them that he’s worried about her and thinks she should be institutionalized. Now, that’s cold.

The only relationship worth rooting for by the end of UnREAL season one is between Quinn and Rachel, who are surely a match made in hell, but the best match we’ve got. Rachel knows Quinn ruined her plans to run away with Adam, but after watching how he handled everything, I’m not sure she really cares. “You should be kneeling down thankingwhatever that you didn’t end up as Everlasting’s ultimate tabloid idiot. This was a gift,” Quinn says. She’s right! Imagine the fanfare. If anything, it would give the show major attention and ratings. In a way, she sacrificed that to keep Rachel around and — gasp — be the mentor figure Rachel so desperately needs. They further agree not to **** someone again (RIP, Mary, although I’m sure the producers of UnREAL aren’t holding them to that, exactly), and Quinn brings up a show they had discussed earlier on (The Whole Package, a show about “girls with jobs”). But just as season two of UnREAL will have to stick to the perfectly ****** drama we’ve grown to love, so will the fictional Everlasting.

“I love you. You know that, right?” Rachel says to Quinn. “I love you, too ... ******,” Quinn answers. This is as close to “I do” as we’re gonna get. And if by now you’re not on Team Quachel (I made that up, you’re welcome), you’ve been watching a totally different show.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses
Sethnicity Jan 2021
She did not intend to be with to him
Though she did care for many of them
She's refused many and few
But She'd never fall for Don Quinn

She'd been to many places and many a ride
She'd seen many faces and broke mini man pride
She paid no mind to the attention of men
She did not desire the hand of Don Quinn

They would jump and trot and stride
Speak and shout And whisper lies
They were merely entertainment for her eyes
A trail of dead hearts lay broken that tried

Still steady was the stature of this man named Quinn
All ready from levies he battled within
With family with money and with the closest of friends
He weathered and learned and discerned to grin

While others were eager to dash in front or behind
Don Quinn had a plan he thought worth the time
For she never took pleasure in being pushed off her line
Don Quinn for the win had a plan more divine

While others took leisure and gusto to sway
Her focus was steady and kept on her way
So Donny took heed while walking this day
Still she was not looking she need not be saved

He tightened his noggin and sharpened his eye
He gathered his dignity and he leveled his guide
She continued to dismiss the distractions of guys
He paced himself on this path he would try

What was his secret or his future demise?
Would he falter fluster or fall before her thighs?
No. Because his aim was the same as her prize
He was becoming by running towards the Skye's

So when she got there he found her right by his side
She was not looking for Donny or a handout freedom
All she needed was a companion with whom to share a sunrise
Dr. Quinn practiced medicine while building a horizon
he was willing to walk wait and work towards their golden Skye's
Mr Quinn out did many a men simply by fixing his vision
Random thoughts and dreams I have for my daughter's and my daughter's daughters and of course for amy son and all of our future sons!

Also remember watching this show with my mother as a child and was struck by the beauty and grace and power of this single female trending to everyone in this old west community. Unfortunately a very fictionalized show but dreams become reality...right?
Anais Vionet Jun 2023
It’s a holiday weekend, all of the ‘fellows’ have Monday off.
At lunch Wednesday, Lisa said, “We need a throw-down.”
So, we made some invites and started spreading word around.
“You know, we all work hard enough, we need to get down!”
We asked for RSVPs, and got 43, for the effort, a decent payoff.

My sister’s apartment has a balcony and plenty of space.
We spent Saturday shopping and rearranging the place.
Early Sunday, we hid all the breakables and decorated,
As people settled in, things took off - as we’d anticipated.

I was surprised when I saw Quinn come in
I quietly turned to Lisa, mouthing, “Who invited him?”
The blush on her face, gave her instantly away,
“We couldn’t NOT invite him, we see him every day.”

More people were arriving, laughing and smiling, the party was thriving.
Everyone seemed to bring something, a bottle of Canadian goose,
a bucket of KFC, another of Popeyes, some glowing aurora jungle juice,
taco dip and chips, a Boston Creme pie and a cake with purple icing.

When you feel right, you let the music ignite you,
the beat seems to drive you, the vibe helps excite you,
the bass starts to thump and, well, you’re only young once,
you forget all your cares, for a delirium that’s shared.

In this ocean of joy, I saw a sad and reserved boy.

It was Quinn, in the corner, slouching on the couch.
a model of insecurity, watching the party self consciously,
I looked at Lisa, rolled my eyes, and said, “Why ME?”

I maneuvered over and took Quinn gently by the shoulders,
“Come ON, Quinn, you’re among friends, so embrace the funk,
these GIRLS wanna dance, give ‘em a chance, you’re not a monk!”
I pulled him to his feet, and dragged him over to Monique.
“Quinn, Monique - Monique, Quinn - let the dancing begin!”

By the end of the night Quinn was doing all right.
He has a quirky, awkward style, reconciled by a nice smile,
he’d danced with every girl, leaving them a little beguiled.
“Do it Quin, DO IT!” A girl, at one point, had laughed.
“Oh,” he’d said, gyrating in his herky-jerkily away, “It’s being DONE!”

Who could have known our stuffy, Harvard Quinn could be fun?!
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Reconcile: “causing the acceptance of something unusual.”
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2020
pop culture... yeah... that yawn...
borrowed from the t.v....

   belle delphine... makes a comeback:
                                                       ­    i'm back...

       i must be a real riddle...
                                              though...­

      there i was thinking:
sorry... i was on auto-pilot...
i started to think of...

                harley quinn -
ava max - sweet but a ******...

trouble: i know what a tease
of regret looks like...
i also know what...
a make-shift...
nazgul harem of bulgarian
looks like... too...

        a tease of regret:
a former girlfriend...
striptease of a follow-up
narrative...
very nice... oh oh so nice!

but this one is clearly not beyond:
being a push-over...
belle delphine is no harley quinn:
i.e. ******* seriously sober...
**** your entranced: drunk...
******* sober overtly sober twice...

but... for the bathwater...
and... no...
i am the omega man...
on the list... of... allowed...
men... to *****...
into a genocide tissue
of... banking on genes:
without a ****-up
mother and father sort of
narrative...

         for the drunk:
the sobering whirlwind of reality...
because when rich people
like... should... i... inject...
myself... with some... broown show-gar?!

like i once asked an aesthetician:
i guess in reverse...
i was put under the scalpel and:
the selfless dictum of medicine...
he asked me: what books?
i asked him: quo vadis?

                i thereby managed
to burn the bookmark...
who was sane enough to salvage
the book i was reading?

    clued in on the: beside the brothel
antics...
   this clearly aesthetic girl...
this money making
crazy wheel this buttocks of
supra-roulette...
   when man and death...
the trough... the rhine valley
of trenches and brick-making
tactics for the ***** pederasts
on top...
those cherries those readily...
and thereby... easily...
cusps of iced cream...

                prostitutes speaking...
their gimp and limp-sidekick...
hard-on...       "procrastinations"...
to rhyme to rap...
by the way it looks like:
to rhyme is to rap:
to rap is to rhyme:
  
cookie dough oh oh *******...
and crisp-et... cookie ok: dunking...
slippery and swoon... and sweat...
   boy george fickle...
somehow browning... and none of that...
best dead before:
there was ever a best before date...

and then....
                      MA-GI-C!

playing a game of caesar's thumb:
      versed... in pollice verso?
          how do you play a game of
caesar's thumb?

oh... well... you will require a female maine ****
cat... and some... adamant moth...
the game works... like:
you proving to the beast:
you are not... toying with the moth...
the moth is a lesser creature
to both of you...

how does one play a game of caesar's thumb?
when one only has...
an agitated moth to catch once in a while...
and a maine **** cat:
to give attention to...
with a clenched fist:
with the entombed moth trying
to wriggle its way with
a fluttering of the wings...

   there's also that female
mosquito...
clenched onto by a pinch involving
one of her leg-work limbs...
and being a female...
she pulled and tugged and made
a "dialectic" of the verbs associated
with that limb extension...
a male maine **** cat would
have made a feast of her...
like he would of the cobwebs...

she escaped with 5 legs... to her original 6...
but a month...
i can't disfigure...
too quick for the lassy...
i held the moth in my clenched
fist like a rattle of fluttering
wings teasing...
not enough...
top bored from having
the impossible catch of the night...

the moth always remains: intact...
alive...
either cat catches the moth...
or leaves ones bedroom:
with a blooming gloom
of boredome....

but that's how to keep intact
a "sanity"...
a visit to the brothel...
becomes... a typo-
       for a shop only butchers are only
allowed to... inhabit...
    the sentencing of meat...
the clarity of heaving a life
of a moth in one's clenched fist:
and there's a thirst...
of the fist: to draw that lost samble
of: the begrudged familiarity
of language: and given that...
it's all in 21st century crude / rudimentary...
and rhyme...
            
       no caged beacon of the heavens...
of a lost circumvent...
caged lottery of the rhyme
of being perpetually caged...
       for the loot of **** and cockrel loitering...
like: morn is the cry to whine!

a game of caesar's thumb...
there was once a clenched fist: and a thirst for
blood...
now... a maine **** she, cat...
and a moth... fluttering...
like... an agitated petal-wing-and-rose...
too many "bored"
marihuana junkies stalking these
english streets come twilight...
one almost bumped into...

agitated by my poker facing
the already agitating grey-ish...
by the number...
by the number:
                   what-what of...
if he be not the king george:
having to give up h'america...
then he's no helen mirren...

          a game of caesar's thumb:
any and if all be owned:
that antithesis of a game of chess...
a game of both
kings and paupers...
3D dynamic: and madmen!

"revision": belle delphine...
cold... hearted... capitalist at... brain-sizzle...
but... gravitating toward
two outlets of fiction....
   belle delphine ≠ harley quinn...
a little ******... oh so hot...
hot tender me oh my ***:
posion the daisy...
poison rose should... a rose be all
the more... already... poisoned...

a visit to the brothel:
a visit to the butcher shop:
for the cho- chop and chopping assurances...
the crooked crown on an already
crooked head...
the statue of charles II
in soho sq....
        
              i most certainly paid for much
less than this ****-tenure-of-a-tease....
but then... to have an argument...
you'd need to mingle with a bunch
of thieves... murdering slob-gatherers
of phlegm...

            poisoned red-bunch of
a wholly rosed-up affairs of loiter...
and time: such a prized dead-end of
eventuality...

            the father the god:
the sacrificial lamb...
because... god forbid she was
ever to somehow burden
a deity with a: one first...
once and a daughter...

                  ****** fun-fair for
the riddled ghosts...
       blank shot shrapnel...
                     better suited...
midnight blue of the alias black...
then at least:
best... towing two gaylords
with everyone's bet on
typo and a bullseye!

   but never... the sensibly...
      hetrosexual normative...
goody twice-tied...
shoe-and-shine:
pwetty: that girl and:
you best forget to whine!
that girl and you'd wish...
            her father was a shtalin....
because...
crude and rude...
and all that's ****...
before Lucifer peeks with
a... siamese cranium...
              
      death to all...
who have made it concise...
in making life:
hardly... a... pardon....

  yes... best equipped it making it:
magic! and all the more difficult...
but never difficult enough...
difficult enough...
when... somehow... never... citing...
an... albert fish...
needle in my pelvis...
to... exfoliate... with any...
and more... addition of...
pain as an... ******...

      i guess the plead of the shawshank
sisters drops...
it always drops...
when there's a "conflation"
of evidence...
surrounding... the lower-base...
extremity: the crab genus...
       crustaceans....
    child- this-and-that...
       ****-fiddler...
             but a cannibal to boot?!
you... talk...
or simply... electrocute said:
individual...
since... your... ******* 'ed...
is already fried by the magic
of norm-frequence...
and the already: herd... estasblished...
Norman?
you with me...
sptunik jimmy...
               you with me... cream-soda joe?
you with me...
finding aliens already bigger
than flies... the widow mantis...
blessed joseph josephine?!
*******-numb-wit?!

oh yes! all conession: avowed
to you!
               because...
who isn't...
      in russia... they vowed
to keep these cain canine brood phlegm
of an *******: freely to roam...
siberia... that was the promise...

when they would **** a birth-firvolity
of a: devil and the "by chance"...
when converting man to
the stature of elevating wolf or bear...
and all the better...
rather than... caging the odd-ball
parody of... lacklustre joke and...
moth-ball-rolling...
****-wits the: future!
supposed! narrative!
******'-h'america...
              celebrated feature of culture
most involving... a horror...
      and... bull-wrapping!
               a ******* for a skinning!
Ashley Chapman Sep 2017
In pubs with bar flies.
Kronenburg, Becks, Carling, Stella Artois and Fosters,
Dancing in our blood,
Utterly inured; we are endured by all:
The solipsism most profound.

And when Johnnie, Jack and Jameson join,
The sentimental and the morbid
Are conjoined.

And ****!
In the custody of beer halls,
The shadows that draw, fade,
And calls – e’en Death’s! -- are put on hold!
No time; instead, before the last, another pint.

For in this hallowed inn,
Drinking what’s in the glass,
And espousing the glow within,
Cares regress.

No woes,
Or loaded psyches,
For when the pressure builds,
The best: a jet of yellow bliss,
Relieves the pain,
On Armitage Shanks' porcelain.
Quinn's is pub in Camden. Armitage Shanks a ****** & toilet manufacturer.
What we have is nuts, crazy, mad
But it's just that
I like to laugh instead of being sad
I like to giggle so people know I'm not that bad

Mr.J knows that
He gets what they don't
He sees what they wouldn't
When I'm with him I feel warm

Not alone
I'm damaged but so is he
I find it hard to manage
But not with him

You see?
Do you see he just gets me?

My 'Puddin makes me happy
Even tho I'm the baddest bady
We're meant to be

Sometime we paint white roses red
Each shade from a different person head
Don't look at me
Or you'll lay in your dead bed

Don't dream
Dream is a killer sometimes we get drunk with a blue caterpillar

He's peeling the skin of my face
Cause I really hate being safe
The normals they make me afraid
The crazies they make me feels safe

I'm nuts baby I'm mad
The craziest friend that you ever had
You think I'm ******
You think I'm gone
Tell the psychiatrist something is wrong

Over the bend entirely bonkers
He likes me best when I'm of my rocker
Tell you a secret I'm not alarmed
So what if I'm crazy... all the best people are

He thinks I'm crazy
He thinks I'm gone
I think he's crazy to
I know he's gone

That's probably the reason that we get along
Suicide is one of those movies you watch over and over again. And I kinda wanted to share my thoughts of it. From the way I show everything go down really. But watch the movie! It's pretty cool <3
Hannah Gaines Apr 2016
Hiya!
You wanna hurt Mistah J?
Sorry bozo but you'll have to go through me first
You'll never lay a finger on him

My name?
Not tellin' ya until you play my game
If ya win, then I'll tell you
If ya lose, lets say that there's going to be a mess

Mistah J is my puddin'
You wont ruin his fun
Not while I'm around
Sorry if I spoiled your fun

Guess you lost, but I'll tell you my name
My name is Harley Quinn
Aztec Warrior Jan 2016
Not A Poem: A Personal Message to Hello Poetry and A Pledge**

None of what has been going on here at Hello Poetry makes any sense but it is hurting many poets here and driving many poets/friends away (8 and counting)... my only thinking is that it is a deliberate attack not only on poets but poetry, and these web sites where poets gather and is part of a growing american culture of barbarity.. it's like those U.S. drone attacks done from behind closed doors that no one sees coming and then everything and everybody gets destroyed... it must stop and we must stop it!

For all those who are interested, I will do the same as Quinn has done and post ANY and ALL private messages that are character attacks or personal attack on me or my friends (if they allow); or ugly comments left on my poetry... Walt Livingston’s  comment on Quinn’s poem should not be tolerated here at HP, and called out for its inhumanity. It has nothing to do with poetry or the poem he left it on. Not one thing he said can be verified and this kind of thing has to stop. It’s like watching Fox or CNN news- ******* opinions posing as news and training us on what to think.

Also, for the record, if anyone receives a message claiming to be me do 2 things, first ask me if I actually wrote it sent it and 2 send it to me... I do not really know (that is I do not yet have the proof needed) who or how many are behind this, BUT I WILL NOT ALLOW THIS TO CONTINUE AS LONG AS I AM AT HP. And this goes for any other site I may visit. So please block me now all who think I will not stand up against plagiarism, attacks, harrassments, trolling, stalking, and any other form of oppression.

I also know that I may lose a few friends in doing this. To them, I can only say, that this is not a reflection on or directed to you in any way and I am sorry if this has hurt you, deeply sorry...

Aztec

PS  Oh, and by the way, the friends I am referring to know who they are, so if there are any questions about this,  message me and ask me.. no one has the right to declare friendship without my say so...

Wish I didn't have to say this, but since part of the sneak attacks have been done by people using other people's names to pick fights and attacks... yes it has gotten that bad.. That insidious...

So poets of HP, Let’s write poetry, support each other with mutual respect (even if and while we debate the content/ideas of a poem); build a community of poets that is a MODEL for the way human beings should and can treat each other, with mutual respect and listening to and seeing our diversity of ideas and nationalities as a great advantage to art and society and to ourselves... this is not a call for love and peace, since this will have to be fought for, nor is it a call to live and let live... there can be no place among human beings for these attacks... as well as no “free speech” for wreckers and attackers..
Let our language be poetry
Let our words be open and honest debate over poetry and art
Let our hearts be filled with fresh new ideas about life
Lets create wonderment and awe with our pen!!!!  
Come on HP poets, Lets Go!!

Aztec Warrior 1.25.16
Well, this post has sure caused an uproar. I am tempted to say, ya'll deserve each other, so *******, but that would be foolish and wrong of me and get us no further, and the attacks on each other would continue and the real poets, those who want to actually write poetry and have it read and appreciated are leaving. So the first think I want to add to this post is: Quinn, and the rest of you (Rick who is "r'and also "woody", a few others; along with Gary L, Nagi,and I think Jack and Vicki were named in Woody's comment that is not gone) STAND DOWN!! No more poems, comments or messaging spreading rumors or attacking people for who they like or block or what happened  months ago or at another poetry site. STOP.

Look everyone who actually cares, someone (and all admit they do not know who he is or was) by the name of Walt Livingston posted and ugly attack. It 's one of the reasons why I posted the above post. This WAS NOT a defense of Quinn, as it is a method being used in several poetry site to create dissention and havoc.  No one knows who this is and yet everyone thinks they know and they spread this rumor far and wide to anyone who will listen. It has to be Quinn he just wants attention. It has to be 'r" he's been attacking me forever and on it goes round and round until it is almost impossible to find the truth. The truth is someone created that account and look at the results Instead of pointing fingers and coming up with all kinds of conspiracy theories, lets put or know how together and find out.

I do not know who this is nor will I speculate. But I will say this, all of us at this point are being played!!! And attacking each other is not helping to get at this problem.

No matter what Quinn did or didn't do at WC that got him kicked off, there was continued trouble at WC that Quinn had nothing to do with. Does this mean Quinn is innocent, no, it just means this mess we are dealing with is bigger than one individual. Look I know you all don't agree with me on this, Which leads me to the main point.

I put the center or heart of the above post last for a reason. To make it stand out from the part where I was saying what I would do to prevent attacks on me and friends (if allowed). Maybe I was wrong in doing this because you all have ignore it. Or at best gave it some general nod and then went right into attacking each other trying to prove who was the real hero/heroine and blah blah. Why?? Why couldn't these points be the glue that can help sort out this "sad state of affairs at HP"  as someone put it. They certainly do not detract from the "Rules of Conduct" Eliot has posted. and everyone "agrees" they will abide by. They could actually act as a banner of sorts that people could come around and express why they like or dislike them and as a means of determining disputes. But I am also convinced that if these points do take hold it will be much easier to root out and identify anyone or someone who is provoking bs on the site.  Are they perfect? hell no. And that is why it will take many many of us to do this including CRITIQUING THE POINTS. But there will be no tolerance of knocking at people for any reason.   It's easy: critiquing points, yes; critiquing people, NO..
I hope I am not talking to the wind here...
Anais Vionet Jun 2023
It’s Friday night and a group of us, the ‘university summer fellows’ (Quinn, Jammie, Monique, Lisa and I) are going groovin’. Quinn, a Harvard man (we’ve shed our jaundiced opinions of him), assured us he knows the Boston bar scene. We’re going to test that.

We told him we wanted to sway to whimsical beats and chase vivid, neon lights across dance floors, like a bunch of cats - till the hours get wee. His plan is for us to pop-in the “touristy” places, like ‘the Havana Club’, ‘the Manray club’, ‘Garage Boston’ and ‘The Grand’, we’re so 111. As usual, Charles is our party mom, escort and driver.

When Peter and I were in Saint-Tropez, earlier this summer, there were beach clothes - dresses, skirts and men's shirts - where they’d woven micro-LEDs into the flowered, dry-wick, fabrics. I think the effect is amazing, friday, and joyous. I got two skirts for everyone (all of my roommates). Tonight Lisa and I are wearing a couple of them.

Funny. I’ve mentioned it before, but Lisa‘s an audrey. Her school friends and roommates are all used to it, we’ve been exposed, we have built up immunity. But Quinn’s a newbie, when Lisa came into the living room, LED glittered and lookin-right, he was literally stunned. He froze, for a microsecond, his face went blank and his fingers wiggled, as if disconnected from his overloaded central nervous system.

“***! Jammie said, having just turned around, “holla at ya brooke!,” he declared, shaking his head in admiration. “Umm mmm,” he added.

“I’m sure.” Lisa said, starting to transfer things from her everyday bag to her glittery clutch, the girl cannot accept a compliment. Quinn, coming out of it, cleared his throat.

We’re ready. Let Friday night begin!
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Jaundiced =  “influenced by feelings of distaste, or hostility.”

Slang..
pop-in = drop in, visit
audrey = an absolutely stunning girl
lookin-right = dolled-up, dressed to the nines
111 = excited
party mom = the sober person on a bar hop or party.
friday = fun, fun, fun
holla at ya = respect
brooke = beautiful
Robbie on Drums Sep 2019
With your "PUDDIN" choker, and me, your lover joker...
Us two up to no good, the most badass couple in Gotham's neighborhood...
One means nothing without the other...
One is nothing without their lover...
Your hair in pixies, mine in green...
White pallid faces, a lovin' **** team...
You and me, The Joker and Harley Quinn...
Lovers of destruction and mortal sin...
Harley and Joker, without peace and only violence...
Chaos and bombs, disturbing the silence...
Let us play a game, trapping the Batman, like a moth to a flame...
Crusin' cars like rolling thunder...
"OH #$!@" here comes the Bat and Boy Wonder...
A swift swing of Harley's bat...
And the big Bat goes "SPLAT"...
"I need a machine gun"...
"Here you are Puddin', ***...
"Thank you, Harley, the itch in my crotch"
Harley Quinn, beating the Boy Wonder...
Her bat, earning another notch...
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
Axt would I, I sed yah soyam

Signing a song played in the white noise that surrounds me

nights like these past 7043,

Who chounted en chant em, enchantemgood

So no we are at what is a befinning place.
beginning (90's too ****, U2 too Northern Euro,
Green Day, Coolio,
Noise to a message dying to be heard
welcome to another
imaginary garden in an ever expanding mind

field of unthinkable things,
back then

we have whiteout but it doesn't work here

My culture had near simultaneous eruptions of supermarkets

and Fords.

This guy, his culture had near simultaneus disruptions of progress and
interruptions of information
some os were lost in the middle synchrony
instance if I cationic plus or minus
simaltan

Oh, I get it. You, dear reader, have been
out of it.
We went public with the entire plan for public
key distribution,
through six palanced stacks of energy stores

Chakra, chi, science make ya think eh. Polarize, see

everything groovy --no
[contemprayery idle intense ify AI keep us current]

lie, good, no lie is always safe. Don't wanna stumble any souls.

I was mentioned, my being a speaker in a story, I was said
to have said something, upon a time,
on the cover of the Rolling Stone,

I witnessed a lie being told and said my ears weren't garbage cans,
like a brainwashed cult

no, **** I was a cultivated follower of a confessed
follower cultivator.

I bloom when I imagine being treated as a mushroom,
I never paid much attention,
I never felt
insane
but
I can imagine
wee whatifs crept in… aha

The Olde Deluder, Satan, Act

that, a tiny gleam, a single ATP gone ADP

but there was light. A story I lived is now being told
without me,
oy vey Jah knowaddamean.

There was a wiseman, who,
by his wis-dom saved a city, and no one knew
that same wiseman's name,

proverbs are intentional games, the rules,
hiding a thing, done by God, glory ifies him
seeking out a matter, done by a being translated king,
transmutes that seeking into honor

Honor is hard to compare to the war flavored twists,
knots and tangles where woof and warp held

long long long before war was imagined, honor was.

A medal of honor for valor, what does it mean?

Leonard Wood got one. For his part in solving
the Apache problem.
He also,

Flash I had my wires crossed, in a way, it may
enlighten.
You see, I had thought that I had read Leonard Wood,
be cause I had imagined he was in New Jersey, but that
was Lord Amherst, Jeff

He tweerted ( wrote in a letter on paper we've a fact simile):
"to try Every other method that can serve to Extirpate this Execrable Race."

From <https://www.umass.edu/legal/derrico/amherst/lord_jeff.html>

Could be the source of the whole shores of triple ease retirement lure/trap/moneymoneymoney makeit fakit

I asked once, who's to blame and whose to blame,
samesame came an answer, I sware, quick as

next, twixt being and being possible,

realize

we do change things, in time, which,

if we can agree, is limited for us,
to now, no thens behind

mere, mere, mere ifs and whens ahead

be

--so there's been music all along
life's the song

skip a decade, like skippin' a grade

grad Harvard at a prepubescent 12

If I had a Hammer time, one message

one valiant try to be will smith,

Live and Learn, old man, say the dude on the radio
in he's hammaheadphones, cain't touch

Bomb. Jesus lent me Jael's hammer,
radioman nailed it.

If I had a hammer was the prayer,

MC, he was the Godsmacked nail in the coffin

Dark inside gothish messages hurgle and gurgle
guts twisted in freak pride love hate list lust

dichotomies of choice in ever learning
good citizenship worth honor and glory

of the sort men dare to die for, facing darkness,
the NULL set ***** and ***** and *****

This ain't gravity tuggin me,
this is that monster who lives forever in top forty radio

When/then Radioman emerges, Like the Mighty Quinn from

deep beneath Gibson's darkest ever imagined ICE wall…

What's on? (ellipses, do those mean POV shift or selah?)

I forget, s still all alchemistry t'me, if allyagots ahammass,

realize, if it matters, t'me, bubble bustin' need no nail.

I gotti'd a hamma, gonna hamma in the moan

O.G., mighty man of valor, where'dyew arise from?

We, the integrated us, non autonomous, inarrogant
We were dancin' to that I'm a Loser, Baby

so why don't cha killme, knowwad i'msayin

This old man been wandern in the desert far far far
side the madding crowd
making minced
meet
broken spirit. we goin together to a re-pair place

at the center of you'n'all you know, yo bubble but

--- everlearning everclear outlawed, good lawed
--- moon shine spiritment lauded out loud
--- the world all ways works when a garden is

beyond the pale,
Irish
rye whiskey, wheat bread liqui
if I were an
old gay ninties guy drinking ***** laudnum
singin'

on the corner with the hourus girl's c

Making the Con Next Ion, watchathank,
is it The Nineties A to Z , ending wit, it’s a hard
knawks life, or

a Bohr-TED talk or
a video of Schrödinger's  
verdamte dead cat?

Or am I surrounded by so great acloud of witnesses that some times I spend

simply hummin' along, life's beat me to the ground,

which gladly,
I'm so glad, I'm glad, I'm glad which

loses its meaning if you never experienced such a fall
ending in absorption of it all.
Ginger Baker, slam that cymbal, CRASH1

Life, in every key, there's a clue. Some where,
there's a lock on a true thing we need

to, eventually, know all things.

Keywords lost givitawaygivitawaygit it back tenfo'

Black spirit-filled tongue talkin' grandpa friend of
Johnny Walker, Red not Black,

He challenged me ye see. I recall what was on TV.
Nixon sayin' he,
honest he,
anti-****** he,
bombin invadin he was Notacrook, the super hero
he imagined

Bio is building energy, all the time does is
test the effort.

Is life lived this way worth the effort?
if/then/else

Who chose, integrated me, all the masks and voices I have accepted as ideas that can have apiece of me.

BTW, kids, even if an angel of light asks you to take a little piece of my heart, don't

yer killin me and I know where the next story started,

you are lost without me, fretnot, I'm the way

I heard that, that's no claim I mist'tok as my response.

Deeper, are we absobbing any thing, deeper tincture
of time, t'me see

POV
SameYesTodayForever (SYTF) protocols have been in place, as far as we know,

since words made sense naturally, eons ago, at least.

If you want my future then forget my past
musing medium messages sayin

what the hell? A game, you sayin' life's a game?

Ja, was oder vice nicks versus universal soldier godlet

Jump when I jump, remember… don't cry

I woulda danced with wolves to have changed
one mind that followed me

beyond that point,
no return, is such a mortal POV, you see
as far as you cansee

Deep. the gem. all the meaning ever was was
in that gem.

Dare me for no reason? Is that reasonable,
ration my tears to test my mettle

I went mad in 1995, have I made that plain?
Things crumbled around me for ten years,

I was helped by hoping I knew a truth about those
manifested imaginary gems
given kings and potentates
said to possess great powers and the meaning og every mystery unknown to man

eh, say again
gems
given kings and potentates
said to possess great powers and the meaning OhGEE every mystery unknown to man

lies lies lies they all were lies lies lies lies

I told you so, and it is still sweet to say
you know

You heard it all before, greatest test story ever told.
That was no test.
this is.

Jump when I jump, remember… don't cry

Epic stories deserve more than mere words,
but, you know, click,

words are what we make things from.

Tell me your stories,
she woulda seemed to whisper, woulda drained me drownd me
in just if I'd love linked

to the money machine of your dreams

had I not rode the grey dog outa Nashville,
back in '82,

I'da missed seein' flyover country that feels like mine,
when I take this POV.
I wandered into a sattelite radio 90's A-Z, kinda like those histories of philosophies old people listen to when they're ******. Oh, the moonshine experiment worked, FYI
John F McCullagh Aug 2013
Christina Quinn
has made Quality condoms
a focal point of her campaign.

That Anthony ******,
he of modest demeanor,
would be happy to model t'is plain.

As a Lesbian, Quinn
doesn't care for what's in
The condoms she touts on campaign.

If abstinence matters
put her face on the wrappers
and no one will be glad that they came.
Christina Quinn, Democratic candidate for Mayor of New York City and a lesbian, is campaigning on the issue of the quality of the condoms that NYC distributes free to school kids. She demands better quality condoms!
stirred deeply with joy
enthralled with the spirit
we return to Elysian fields
to live autumnal reveries

we prance once more
onto blue sky diamonds
with hometown heroes
to pitch perfect games
knock long grand slams
to honor and embrace
the semblance of siblings,
parents, lovers and friends

life's teammates
our dearest playmates
passed and still here
sustaining our spirit
filling the void of
riven hearts
with nothing more than
a smiling presence,
compliant ear
a warm embrace

keeping a
season of sunshine
alive for one more
golden day

in a resplendent moment
Measy’s youngest son
stood before me
as if it were him
five decades ago

his impish smile,
mischievous eye
and olive skin
wrinkled when
he grinned

your Old Man
was a hell
of a ball player
a great hitter
he always swung down
at the pitch, hitting
nasty line drives

I remember that
summer afternoon
when we first met on
the Washington School
Merry-Go-Round...
Measy just up
from Carolina
he spoke with
a slow Tar Heel drawl
we didn't know what
to make of him
so we made him
our friend

Sifford's Esso, B&D;
and Bulldog teammates
I marveled at his athleticism
but the thing I remember
most was the soft joviality of...

“ ah hoot,
ah hoot.
ah hoot”

his laugh would send
a soft almost *******
shudder through his body

Measy lives in me,
forever in my heart
I embraced young Roy
touched his cheek
a transcendent moment
that spans a half century

At first base
Gail “Peppermint Patty” Q
was scooping up grounders
and not letting anyone past her
without giving them a smile or a hug….
asking each player if their shirt fit right…

the way Gail played
she could start for
the Lady Gaels today...

on the mound
Moons was wearing
a Schmeds shirt
lobbing lollipops to the hitters…..
making sure everyone got on base…

at short Screwball
covering half the ground
he once did..
(never a ss but a classic junk baller,
never threw a pitch that you could hit)
but on this day his heart was filled
overflowing with the karma
of good works and his love for
Rutherford and its favorite
sons and daughters
who have gone on before….

other stars abounded on the field and off…
Noons cracked everyone up
with an endless stand-up routine
Skip walloped a few dingers
BL looked sharp in his Foster Grants
and Andy was looking good
destined for the next cover of GQ….

Coach Way gave a resounding pep talk…
the need to grow up and show up
with an attitude of gratitude will
always make one a winner
regardless of the score

in the stands I heard a hundred stories
about the prowess and foibles of departed friends…

Bay Bay’s HR smash that put Flash Cleaners
into the World Series

A cool Moose bringing the ball across
half court, driving and dumping one off to Head
for the go ahead points against Queen of Peace

Minnow ruling a territory that included Morse Ave,
Wood Street up to Chopper’s House and
half of the Washington School playground

Fic being the smallest Bulldog with the largest heart
ran over linebackers and tackled fullbacks twice his size

Weehawken Joe draining a jumper
from the top of the key to keep it close
at the Union Hill pit…

as the list of the departed was read by Gail, Pat, John and Jimmy
the depth of our loss was only exceeded by the magnitude of love
a caring community extends to one another….
Rutherford is indeed a very special place….

so many caring friends
so many good thoughts
the blessing of friendship
the grace of presence

as I turned to leave
I thought I saw
Nick and Joe
hanging with
Sweet Lou
the hog was
humming
his red bandanna
was flapping
in a rising breeze

Aaron Copland:
Our Town

Righteous Brothers
Unchained Melody

Whitney Houston:
I Will Always Love You

Oakland
Dia De Muertos
2015


Thank you Pat Francke, Jimmy Noonan, Gail Wilhelm Quinn and John Mooney for putting this beautiful event together….

My apologies for not mentioning all the beloved souls so honored at this game…..Know that all are deeply loved and equally missed…..

If anyone has a memory they would like included please add in comments section and it will be incorporated in future versions…..

Also if anyone has a list of the names would like to add that to this….

God Bless
an annual autumn softball game played in my hometown Rutherford NJ...
we gather to honor and remember passed loved ones......
James M Vines Feb 2017
I want to live my life like the devil may care! I want to wear my clothes in a way that makes people stop and state. I want to get you excited just by casting an evil grin! Oh how I would love to be Harley Quinn!
Vijaya Balan Feb 2017
You should have been the soul that Edgar Allen Poe loved,
So that he wouldn't have died miserable and alone,
You are the Morticia to my Gomez; deadly in love,
We would make a quirky Addams family, bar none,

I love the nerds in us and the banter of annoyance,
I love the moments of radiant love and our nature of being different,
'Cause we did meet exceptionally over persistence,
And we accept each other regardless of difference,

I wish that our love will remain eternal,
Narrated by Obi-Wan,
With a theme song by John Williams,
Directed by Lucas, nah, we don't need direction,
I do know, we need a Queen, and that's you my puddin'!
Leia to my Solo,
A Queen-B-lovin'-Quinn to my Joker,
A die-hard Drake lover with a heart for the Dark Side,
This Vader loves his Amidala, xoxoxo,
We would revel on any side but the holy!
May this love never fade, and be full of surprises,
But not the kind where there is nasi lemak with no ikan bilis!
But you make the best **** nasi lemak, sigh,
I'm forever grateful for my Babloo
I'm forever grateful that you're by my side,
My Annabel Lee, I'm grateful Poe never met you,
'Cause you're all mine!
A poem dedicated to my wife.
You are my light
As well as my darkness
For you shine bright
And I venture in total blindness

Not knowing where to go
You guide my feet with a hurtful spike
As I step, only Pain I know
And my tortured scream you so much like

In winter's cold you kept me
In a hug so tight I gasped for air
But It doesn't matter to me
As long as I have you there

You kept me warm
With your freezing touch
A stinging burn on my arm
A frozen heart I loved so much

Your harsh words
Whipping me scars of hurt
They cut deep like driven swords
In where I wake and make them worth

In every scar I receive
In every bruise to me you give
I still cherish every pain on your shiv
With you by my side I'll forever live

For we are in harmony
Like the equal yin and yang
Our hearts singing a sorrowful melody
In where our hearts in thorns are strung

I am hopeless *******
Loving the pain and torture you provide
For you are a relentless sadist
In which your punishment is deliciously divine

For what might have been my inspiration
Inside my heart's totally hollow room
You are my Salvation
You are also my Doom
I remember putting up in this kind of relationship once, not the physical beatings but the emotional ones but in the end I still can't bear to lose him so I ended up putting up with his sh** all for 6 whole months until I met someone who I felt loved with.
Let me know if you ever went through this kind of relationship :D
AavelinaJaden Apr 2014
"Face it," she said. "You're in love with a psychotic clown."
But what with a face that's not a frown?
While she sits him upon a throne and hands him a crown.
Only his deep spirits could bring her down.

Upon his face sets a wide grin
His true hearts malice lies deep within.
A love like this must be a sin
The love of the Joker and his Harley Quinn. ♥
(And don't call me puddin' )
Lara M Oct 2013
'you've felt it, haven't you? those feelings that seem to get so big in your chest, like something is so beautiful it aches.' - Heather Anastasiu

'you have a place in my heart no one else ever could have.' - F. Scott Fitzgerald

'i knew he didn't love me, but i adored him anyway.' - Patti Smith

'i like people with depth, i like people with emotion, i like people with a strong mind, an interesting mind, a twisted mind, and also people that can make me smile.' - Abbey Lee Kershaw

'most days i wish i never met you because then i could sleep at night and i wouldn't have to walk around with the knowledge there was someone like you out there.' - Good Will Hunting

'i have a million things to talk to you about. all i want in this world is you. i want to see you and talk. i want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning.' -Haruki Murakami

'i love you in that crazy, stupid, i want to rip your throat out and kiss you at the same time love.
that love where it's so overwhelming i hate you for making me feel so vulnerable.
that love that takes over your mind and i end up thinking about you so much i drive myself into complete and utter insanity.
that love which where i put my heart on my sleeve, took everything you could throw at me and still loved you with the little pieces you left.
the love that i'll tell my kids about, the 'what if' kind of love, the one i'll never forget.
the love of my life.
that's the way i love you.' - Chippylou

'i am holding your name
underneath my tongue
in case you ask me
to make my favorite
sound.' - Stolenwine

'i need to rip your
name off my tongue;
it no longer taste
sweet. - a.w.k.jones

'i keep thinking you already know. i keep thinking i've sent you letters that were only ever written in my mind.' - Iain Thomas

'i guess what scares me the most is knowing that at any moment, you could rip my heart out of my chest, tear it into pieces, throw it on the ground and stomp all over it. and that i'd just pick it up and hand it back to you.'

'i romanticized you
to the point where
the knives you pressed
into my skin
began to look
like cupid's arrows.'

'i'll never be busy enough to not miss you.' - m.k

'i never really liked
my name
much
until i found out
what it tastes like
when you sigh it
into my
mouth'.

'i have tried to let you go and i cannot. i cannot stop thinking of you. i cannot stop dreaming about you.' - Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus

'your heart and my heart are very, very old friends.' - Hafiz, Persian poet, "Your Mother and My Mother"

'she hated that she was still so desperate for a glimpse of him, but it had been this way for years.' - Julia Quinn
Vince Chul'Theg Mar 2013
I taught English as a Peace Corps Volunteer on a small island in the Federated States of Micronesia. The following is an account of one of my student's most treasured memories.**

'''

My most treasured memory was very sad.
We were at the hospital, everybody crying
and I just couldn’t breathe

I looked from my mother to my father
and they were both out of words
with tears streaming down their faces.

I felt like my heart was gripped so tight
I could not move a single joint.

We watched my little brother struggle
through the pain of his last breath.

I was not close with my brother;
we fought all of the time and sometimes
he just scared the hell out of me when he
lost control.

He threw everything he could reach
and hit me with anything he had in his hand.
I was just a nuisance and an annoying girl
so we were different people because
he is so speechless and very shy.

He had a very bad temper and it ruled him
when he got mad.

He was such a handsome young boy.

I stood there crying with all the other people
and he called my name.
I knelt down beside his bed and took his hand,
crying so hard I could not talk or see him
with the tears pooling and sliding down my face.

He looked at me and said
“I’m sorry about fighting and hurting you,”
barely in a whisper.

I clutched his hand even tighter.
He said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you,
I just got mad and couldn’t stop myself
from doing so.

Q, take care of mom and dad,
I can’t because I think I’m going to die.”

I was screaming at him by then
saying that he is not going to die.
Every word he said he struggled to get out.

My mom was pulling me away
but I could not be led away.

She was pleading and begging me
but I would not budge.
He was having a seizure by that time
and the doctor was with my mom pulling me away
and, for an instant, I thought my dad was going to slap me.

But he held me in his arms and told me not to cry
because everything was going to be alright.
I calmed down and knelt by the bed with my dad next to me—
he held my hand and squeezed it.
I held my brother’s hand with my other hand
and he looked at me with sad painful eyes
and everything went still.

My mom screamed and my dad froze
and I just cried even harder.

I pulled my hand from my dad and gathered
my brother in my arms and started to cry,
scream and shake him.

It took both my mom and aunt to loosen my grip on him
and my dad pulled me into his arms again.

This memory is so attached to me because
only once in my life have I been held by my dad;
slept in my mother’s arms.

And for the first time, my brother told me
comforting words and asked my forgiveness.

Everything was first-and-last because my family
blames me for my brother’s death.

I was treated so badly after that
but those moments were so comforting
beautiful and sad.

I love my family.
They just don’t love me
as much as I love them.

       My most treasured memory
       Happened when I was eleven.

       No one knows what tomorrow will bring.
       Maybe it will change.
Hal Loyd Denton Jan 2012
Her life can’t be denied
First to vent then try to understand then accept death of innocence first seething anger only more enflamed by people trying to
Politicize and lessen the loss of innocent American lives especially little one, long before face book there was basebook evil’s network
This country has rings of evil a year after the bombing in Oklahoma I flew back here and then drove a car back home I stopped and
Videoed the bomb site and then many miles later and much video of this great country I pulled up behind a pickup in Kingman Arizona
Still videoing I was surprised and angered when he had a bumper sticker up on his back window over from his lariat and high powered
Rifle that said something to the effect you haven’t got all of the explosives this wasn’t the only comment there were other signs of a
Gun culture what made it so offensive was it was well known McVeigh and Terry Moore had used Kingman as a base of operations
Arguably this was just a bunch of jerks not real disturbed people like the one in Tucson I understand because while running production
In a chemical plant we had a big government contract which involved a lot of piecemeal work we hired in thirty temps and one was a
Carbon copy of the shooter in Tucson we already had two deadly chemicals everyone knows cyanide but phenol is liquid poison it has
A couple of tricks it freezes at eighty degrees and it absorbs through the skin and when it gets to the blood your dead one guy
Unloading a tanker the line froze he breaks the hose but when he does the chunk of ice flows out hitting him with a load he was dead
before he hit the ground I got a face full of it deluded to fifteen percent when the electric pump transferring to another drum caused the
Plastic hose to jump out the force of the pump shot the deluded phenol against the rim across from me I saw it coming all I could do
Was close my eyes as tight as I could get them instantly ten thousand bees were stinging my face I staggered around until one of the
Guys led me to the emergency shower that was there for this very reason I was taken to the hospital my wife walked in and stated
Crying my brother in law said I looked like Anthony Quinn in the film requiem for a prize fighter they told me as they continued to
Steadily bathe my face with water if the phenol got to the blood there was nothing they could do I survived but then one of the temps
Named randy was a skin head so now we had three deadly poisons it was the hardest thing to interact even simple conservation was
Really impossible like the scene with two polar bears it followed their lives from cubs to three years old and they were being shipped
To another zoo how cute but something triggered the one he became pure bear instant raw aggression at a level that was unnerving
Even from watching it from Television it was like it was crazed just like Randy in an instant he was back in his room with his swastikas
Barely coherent and defiantly not cogent being around him was like getting high on some of our bad fumes I’m interested in helping
People the most powerful drugs couldn’t get you in line with his thinking delusional twisted into a knot of hate and violence he had a
Another thing he liked to brag and had a habit of drinking weird stuff he poured our H B Fuller industrial strength glue into a Pepsi can
And drank it we never seen him again although we watched with keen interest all the entry points to the building for the next two
Weeks incase Randy was paying us a visit with his AK forty seven rifle that is the only reason I have any concern for the shooter in
Arizona again all the warning signs were evident he is disturbed others must protect him plus others he would harm but they still
Wait until yet again as a nation we bleed with profound sorrow from innocence lost.
Madness slays a princess, love of country brought her to the place it would be so harshly violated
In her face America shines with what it should be perfected in innocence raised with all the colors of our vibrancy as a nation then the
Dark foreboding it steals light and life at only nine but she was far ahead of that measurement of earthen time she was endowed with
Power that lives in highest possibilities that are only possible in true unaffected innocence her country was the true country not this
Unrecognizable one that every manner of evil is allowed to flourish and then when openly shown its true depths of departure from
Its true excellence we fail to take the reigns as men and women of character we let drugs alcohol and *** rule without raising the least
Bit of a challenge our enemies spit and scoff at our claims of being a moral ceat for the rest of the world we seek only rewards never
Stopping to be sacrificial givers I know our troops and there are a select few that are this noble but the scale is tipped in evils favor
We are weighed divine justice and peace withdraws behind our ways that are filled with greed and failure at every turn measures taken
From our history shows such gaps of even the smallest vestures of righteous endeavor is tossed as backward living out of tune with the
Times Tucson is the product of the new standard of thought that guides us as a people you can’t wallow in filth and then go out to
Be a force and an advocacy for truth you are breaking down all moral restraints and wonder why we are in a flood of insanity you sow
To the wind then you reap a whirlwind each step each day distances us from divine defenses we invite only trouble as long as we
Pursue the course we are on all who is weak in our nation bare the blunt of this misguided thinking the world has never been this
Close to the brink it’s beyond human control that which is to be played out get in line or see more innocence perish right before our
Eyes this tide can be turned but it takes us all not a grand few that are ignored and steam rolled as a new advantage is gobbled up
For a short temporary season our founding fathers talked of posterity we talk of prosperity and everyone else be dammed.
Megan Parson Sep 2017
Her hair is dyed, red and blue,
Her looks give not a clue,
Of her part in Joker's dark
paradise,
She rid her old self a lively
demise,

A dangerous mind she does
possess,
She's worse than Joker, they
confess,
With your cool bat & ornated
revolver,
You're the best problem
solver,

She's made of mischief, & she ain't
hidin',
She's a darlin' with her dear
puddin',
Her life's not an open DC book,
But more, care to take a look?

Locked & chained, was her heart,
Until, one day, came Joker's dart,
& so he's her one & only,
Now she nor Gotham will ever be lonely,

The queen of Arkham is a feat,
Her suave style, none can beat,
Harleen Quinzel, well played,
I don't mind comin' to your aid!!!  
                                             THE END
Inspired by my favourite DC icon, Harley Quinn. © Megan Parson 2017
Jocelyn Jul 2018
It’s okay….
I'm just tired.
T-Torn
     I-Insecure
    R-Ruined
         E-Emotional
        D-Depressed
No amount of sleep can get rid of the tiredness I feel.
I’m really happy.
   H-Hiding
     A-Anxious
         P-Pretending
  P-Pained
     Y-Yearning
My smiles are faker than the popular kids
When people try to ask what’s wrong and I tell them, it makes me feel selfish.
           S-Self centered
       E-Emotional
L-Low
F-Fake
       I-Intolerant
       S-Shameful
      H-Horrible
All my friends look so perfect in my eyes
          E-Encouraging
     M-Marvelous
       M-Magnificent
       A-Astonishing
Emma
   
 Q-Quirky
    U-Unique
      I-Incredible
N-Nice
N-Neat­
Quinn  
  
     M-Magical
                E-Extraordinary  
    L-Loving
        ­    E-Exceptional
Mele
    
    L-Loyal
             E-Empathetic
         A-Amazing
       R-Radiant
            S-Supportive
        I-Inspiring
And Learsi
I want to be as selfless and amazing as them but this thing inside my head says I’m not good enough to be.
   J-Jealous
          O-Obnoxious
     C-Clumsy
           E-Exhausting
L-Liar
      Y-Yielding
        N-Nuisance
These are more than just words.
j.b
Merlin Dec 2011
Handsome face chiseled by a Greek sculptor
Your bass guitar I could listen to forever
Deep, resonant music like that of a cello
I suppose what I'm trying to tell you
Person, friend, in this letter
Is I would like to know you better
Since my identity I am hesitant from just giving away,
Identify me not by name rather by the instrument I play:
A silver and black woodwind.
This poem I conjured for a certain somebody and gave to him. I have yet to hear his response.
Kida Price Jul 2014
Tangled up again...I couldn't keep myself from the haze and lift that it brings me. I channel thoughts. Giving my addiction excuse to focus on one thing or nothing at all. I could do both. The bowl in my hand is fading. Knuckles bleeding. Stomach wrenching. A life left me. Expecting it to leave maybe 8 months from now but things change. So do people. Let the smoke fill the space between my ears...take me to my little boy. Let me see his smile in my mind. I need it after tonight.

Losing sight of love and this was one I crippled myself for. I loved him for 7 years of my youth. My sparring partner and greatest obsession of the opposite ***. He taught me how to take and give a hit. In more ways than one. Denounced Mormonism and traded it in for something that I thought would last longer than faith. Futile love is always the craze in any generation. Who was I to deny that right of passage? See where I'm getting at?

First to fall for and first to chase. This boy and I took refuge in each other's warped sense of affection. He loved others, of course, while keeping a watchful eye on those I would converse with. They could look but not touch what he had claimed as his. And I was, for all intents and purposes. He was my first for it all. His eyes were the first to glance past the baby fat and crooked teeth. His voice was the first to laugh at the awkward things I'd mumble out. He'd tell me that he loved me before I was pretty.

I became pretty? In the mind of who I imagined to be flawless. Even in the spiraled trap of puberty, he was coveted by the raging hormones of all teenage girls. I wasn't spared. Yet, grateful that I eventually could contest with the face I was consistently in awe with. I let him in me when I found myself to be worthy of his complete touch. He waited 6 years so the boy had been through enough to be rewarded by my maiden's head breach.

God, it wasn't what I expected. I ached and squirmed but not out of pleasure. It hurt worse than getting kicked in the face. I struggled, asked for patience and found that he could choose not to hear me. And out of love, I bit my tongue and closed my eyes. Find a happy place. Find a happy place. Turns out the things I tried to forget from childhood resurface in the most familiar ways. Felt the same but different face. Smell of sweat and iron grip. I braced myself to keep the memory in and I managed.

After that it was no more than just a rip. Healing took faster with each ****** of desire he blessed me with. I know I sound like an idiot. Only because I was back then. I also cringe at who I was. Thinking of forever and the like. Blah blah blah. He filled me with more than just his light. Unknowingly accepting it. How could something as sturdy as latex tear? The mystery of the century.

Right around the time he lit up my first joint was about the time I came down with an illness...of sorts. His magic cure was herb. Helps with the nausea. I puffed and held like a champ. Never coughing and receiving the initiative background laugh. I was apart of his pack now. Who needs family anymore when you surround yourself with strangers with an itch and a twitch that can only subside with powders and pills? I could be one of them. Scars and bruises already proved me in.

They never saw a chick hit the way I did. I had the humor of a brother and the swing of a boxer. Perfect combination of a couple. He would show me like a bleeding trophy and I stood proud to be his. Until the sickness got worse. You could guess why. Took me by surprise when the *** stick sentenced me to impregnation. I remember being in shock but smiling none the less. Not even 18 yet and was going to have his namesake in my belly.

Still, I knew him well. Loved and accepted him all the same but...I knew how that game was played. I was pro choice, but loving the child too much to choose that alternative, I saved as much till as I could. I would make a break for it and tell no one. Nothing in my minor name so it'd be easy to leave without a trace. And telling him was already made clear as a bad decision. I would do what had to be done...run to have a chance with my son. I always knew he'd be a boy. Overjoyed and I named him prior to him fully growing. Dillon Quinn Lane. It was perfect for who I'd guide him to be in my imagination.

A month passed without showing and my bank account looked less empty. Downsizing slowly the belongings I had to make the extra cents rise a little without doing the same with my parents suspicion. Or his. Kept my distance as much as I could considering the life I had been recently welcomed to. Confided in one person...it should have been less than that. Word travels fast but I didn't give blunt details and I was safe in saying maybe and not definite. The one I loved wouldn't have any part of it and I would ask for nothing. Turned out his fear started to churn to reclaim his youth before I'd steal it away.

Confronted. Denying and screaming louder with each pulse of sound. He suspects my womb to have opened for vacancy and I show him my ******* in response. That's all the answer he needed without a solid statement from my end of things. A fist to the gut....
No...
Hunched over, cradling who was too small to cradle. Too blind with tears to see the stairwell. He nudge and gravity did the rest. Classic miscarriage. I guess we went as far as we could go in this relationship. I thought quietly at the bottom of those steps.

Afterwards, I gave myself permission to lose my mind. Joined the **** life for fun but now I lived it to die. Tried anything I could get my hands on and grieved numb. Small stretch marks left behind from my little one...he left a small part of himself on me to love. Dillon Quinn. His conception was wanted by only one and I would loved him enough for 100 or more.

Every year around this time I think of him still. Curly hair? Crooked teeth or straight. Would have just turned 6. I now realize the life I wouldn't have been able to give and still I'm wishing and willing him to at least live. Reincarnate to others. Both a mother and father who loved him like no other child could fathom love. He would deserve it after what his previous parents had done. And now I'm too scared to even try again even on purpose. Feeling like I betray him when I don't speak his name aloud.

Clearly, I have some issues to steady out and stabilize. I'm a cynic now and most things I've done and seen no longer phase me to drama. I know who I am and I don't plan on becoming anyone different. Still, if you see a little boy like mine, tell him mommy says hi.
I use this site as a diary of sorts. Clears my head and keeps me from other things I could be doing. 7 years past a memory. Reoccurring but long gone. Sleepy phantom thoughts rise and I write. It's not going to change anything but if it's out of me maybe I'll sleep.
Richard Riddle Jun 2015
In my "Thought for the Day XLIII" (43), I spoke of poets that have been with me, and supported me for quite some time. Sally and Pradip have been with me since my first posting, "1894", nearly two years ago, and I have  "adopted"  Vicki, Catherine, Ryn, Deborah, Pamela Rae,and others along the way. There is Quinn, Phil, Pradip, Francie, Frankie J, Mike, John, Nat, SE Reimer, Sverre, "The 'Ole Storyteller!" and,"Larry, Moe, and Curly Joe!"  
Unfortunately, I cannot list everyone, in fear of overlooking writers who, collectively, mean so much to me. Please forgive me for that.
I will continue to "do my best" for all of the poets/writers/contributors to the HP site. I do not write for monetary remuneration, but for relaxation and recreation, with the end result, hopefully, bringing a smile to my peers. I thank all of you for allowing me to attempt, and occasionally, reach that goal.

Sincerely
Richard Riddle- June 03, 2015
Àŧùl May 2013
Starting from the newest, these are my first fifty followers on Hello Poetry.

1. Hailey L May 5
2. Elizabeth Squires May 4
3. Tim Knight May 3
4. Morgan Hanchulak May 3
5. Vi Snicket May 2
6. Jessica Applegate Apr 30
7. Himanshu Koshe Apr 30
8. Mike Winegar Apr 29
9. Joey Lapiana Apr 29
10. Christopher Munro Apr 29
11. Raffi Kaftajian Apr 26
12. Shari Forman Apr 25
13. Jessica Who Apr 24
14. RedWritingHood Apr 22
15. Adreishka Moonlight Apr 21
16. Rocky G Apr 19
17. Sarina Apr 18
18. John Moffatt Apr 17
19. Izisfat Apr 9
20. Leila Apr 8
21. Marian Apr 5
22. Star Toucher64 Mar 30
23. Michelle Mar 26
24. Kristo Frost Mar 25
25. Ra Mar 20
26. Jacqueline Melissa Woolums Mar 15
27. ennyo Mar 11
28. Ellen Menzies Mar 9
29. Jodi Casavant Mar 8
30. Jillyan Adams Feb 20
31. Hailey Scomet Feb 2
32. Pete Taken Alive Jan 17
33. Md HUDA Jan 6
34. Joshua Ohmer Jan 1
35. Quinn Puwang Dec 30, 2012
36. Rissa Ann Dec 10, 2012
37. Hilda Dec 9, 2012
38. Rena Julleitta Dec 7, 2012
39. Emily Rose Williams Dec 7, 2012
40. Abdosh A Dec 5, 2012
41. Naveena Vijayan Dec 4, 2012
42. Kristian Alexander George Dec 1, 2012
43. Oliver Delgaram-Nejad Dec 1, 2012
44. Chessnie Lea Nov 27, 2012
45. Ugochukwu-Charles Onyewuchi Nov 25, 2012
46. Timothy Nov 24, 2012
47. Who Am I Nov 24, 2012
48. Matthew P Hill Nov 23, 2012
49. Tomas Nov 21, 2012

I gained inspirations for my poems from all my followers, those who I follow and especially my lovely little one who brought me here to Hello Poetry first, to a safe haven of like-minded people with a poetic niche each.
Thank you all.

First of all I thank you Eliot York for creating this wonderful poetry blog.

(-: And how can I ever thank you enough for introducing me to this wonderful website, just like Krishna guides Arjun in grand Mahabharata epic. You are my Krishna and I am your Arjun. :-)
(-: You share the place with Eliot York and the family of Timothy sir for inspiring my poems & helping me define my poetic style. As you are a kid for me, your heart is a crystal to me from where I can see the world more clearly in a different way. :-)
Thanks to all,
Thanks Timothy sir for you inspire me to develop my own style of poetry,
Thanks for the introduction to Hello Poetry.
This is not exactly a poem,
Thanks note it is.
My HP Poem #219
E B joined me at Hello Poetry on this day itself.
©Atul Kaushal
letters to basil Feb 2020
dear quinn,

it's okay
to tell people

how to make
you feel
okay.

they'll call you
by the right name
and the right pronouns.

and if they don't,
they will have lost
a part
of what it is
to be
human.

and that isn't
your fault.

love,
quinn

— The End —