Get out your sponges, stippling brushes and pens,
It’s time for makeover-Monday-night to begin.
Think Winky Lux, L’Oréal, Urban Decay,
Maybelline, Armani and Fabergé

It’s a black magic realm where brushes are wands,
where a carnival of colors are carefully crayoned.
We have palettes aplenty, in kaleidoscope hues,
to create fashion looks, both bold and subdued.

In the realm of makeup fashion, where trends never end,
we remodel each other - for fun - when we can.
Tonight, our new friend Jammie has come to watch us play,
and he even brought two bottles of chardonnay.

Lisa has a ‘Miss Rose’ case, like she saw in Bernadette Peters’
dressing room, on a backstage tour of the Shubert Theatre.
Konjac, Kabuki, Doe foots, Spoolie, Lisa’s got legit tools to use.
“When it comes to makeup,” she says, “always avoid dupes.”

That night I was the chosen face, the excited living canvas.
Lisa’s a practiced artist, her process is brisk and never tedious.
She painted my lips a crimson cherry, alluring and brightly sensuous,
my brows were moonlit art, my cheeks a midnight adumbrated edifice.

Lisa created a special look, where rebellious edge met elegance.
We took some snaps, then I washed it off - but Jammie was impressed!

We used to say goodbye like it was a ritual
Then it became tradition
And as we found ourselves
in future generations of our self
we can't remember the last time

We tread on broken water
the spout in her neck
running dry
No more, no more goodbye

..Who’s ana?
Ana…. why, ana is something special.
no one can hear anna or see ana but me.
Anorexia Ana.
My mom say’s i'm ill...and that Ana is the reason i have guilt…
but i still take Ana’s suicide pill.
She say’s skip dinner, you’ll be thinner, skinnier
thinner.
skinnier….how she desired to conspire and let Ana rewire her...but she was too blind to see that shes a liar.
she didnt know, it acquired diet pills and that as her blood spills, she would think she would be like the beverly hill models…
but little did she know, what she was remodeling.
it wasnt enough…
never good enough…
shes had enough… when will she feel like she’s good enough?

skinnier..
thinner…
Ana wants to be the winner, and so far, shes devouring the inner beauty of a teenage girl.
but darling...what she didnt know, that the search for perfection would **** her.
days go by…..she becomes weaker…..people call her a pleasure seeker when they dont see her on the school bleachers.
the teachers worry, and even the preachers in the church of god still nod and pray to god she wont earn a pair of wings too soon.
her scale that whispers “you’re 90...and still not tiny.”
weeks go by, fragile like a antique….while her tiny body i oblique.
shes cold….but shes proud.
shes proud of the gap between her thighs and how her jean size doesnt show her ***** secret that underlies.
she cries, her body shuddering, her hearts fluttering…..shes suffering…
Anna says “keep pushing. if you want to be skinnier, and thinner. slender and bony only.”
the world bowed down thier heads in shame. shame to the family name.
you’ll go to bed hungry tonight,
telling yourself you dont need to eat.
ana’s telling you that you’re fat agian
that you’re imperfect,
from your eyes down to your feet.
you’d think you’d feel beautiful,
because look; you’re finally thin
though your not skinny yet, and you wont be until you see the danger that you are in.
even then it wont be enough,
because beauty is a drug, and addiction is tough…..she refuses to see ana is making her life tough….but she see’s that when the scale drops, ana says “fair enough”
a 15 year old girl with a lifeless 70 pound body, and still doesnt think she has “thea perfect body”.
bony ribs, and a pointy hip bones…..“she looks like a bag of bones”
as if sticks and stones would describe her mental break downs ….
but she never makes a sound…. Ana says “now you’re hell bound. dont make a sound ….now you belong in a hole in the ground…..ive win and you’re mine now.”
she called Ana, her friend. she was one of the few. she saw in her things that no one knew.

but before she knew, when she knew she couldnt break through,
when she couldnt pull through,
she withdrew her cold poor soul ….and was now in gods view.

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Toothaches in the early morning,
a bitter kiss that woke me up.
Toothaches trees in the garden,
I rely on Rose's but she refuses.
so many blackberries and apples on the street
I'm waiting for the next mangoes.

                              Prosaic, sometimes i wonder the need for
                              education if i will still follow the ethics of
                               my grandfather, without remodeling it to
                               suit my time.

But, when I look pass it i see Lavender

The death tolls have risen
three to four lost to bombing each day
I still see Lavender.

Even the most negative mind can become a shining Light.
For we all have options on what we want to fill our minds.
We rely on the Holy Spirit to work on us, changing us daily.
Remodeling us into the likeness of Christ himself daily.
The more that we seek his positive example filling us with it.
The brighter the Light within us shall shine revealing true Hope.
For only he can give to us true Hope here on the planet earth.
For he is the True Living Savior , whom speak Life into us.
Thus transforming us , into his people and use us to reveal himself to others.

Like an old abandoned house,
I have boarded the windows
So no one can see out or in.
The door is locked and double bolted
And the furnace is unlit
Because nobody has gotten close enough
Or close at all,
To the fireplace in the center, slightly to the right
To strike a match and ignite it.
Its cold and dark,
And the ghosts of the past float around,
Warning whoever comes near
That I'm only good for a demolition
Not a remodeling team.
The attic is clustered and filled
With regret
The euphoric sense that I have longed for
Was packed in a box,
Which the previous tenant took
When he left.
The floorboards creak with melancholy
And the deafening silence
Echos the loneliness of a mind
That is both too empty and too full
All at once.
Its beautifully strange
And there's a certain mystery
That draws people to me,
But not enough to make them stay.

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my delusional mind has committed vacancy
for not quite a while, yet i've grown dull of it.
three to four years ago i was always thinking
don't get me wrong, i think twice as much now
but not like how i used to, just empty thoughts.
i've had people come and go, renovating areas
leaving permanent fixtures
that unfortunately, cannot be replenished
i just hope for a full remodeling someday
a new outlook on this whole forsaken catastrophe
mistakenly, im just lucidly dreaming
a thriving desire of mine that's too good to be true.

- m.n.

Straining your neck to get a second look
At distant locks
Shaking "I tried"
Turning door knobs inside out

Anxious patterns spinning ties
Sweating for warmth
Stepping into socks, enclosed travels
You're too cold to exist

Grabbing anything you can grab in sight
Twisting your mind
To escape living ecstasy
Dreams of you and me

The moon falls upward
The sky falls below while the cars fly
Like a limousine to me
You used to be considered fancy

Six feet under, in my mind
Forgotten parts of cringing discoveries
Lost and found inside miscellaneous medicines
Remodeling harsh eyes

Confused expressions set on autopilot
Degrading, regenerating
Organs and miles of dusted feet
Lost between them that are you

Emotions trample your face
Tracking slush in the cracks of your flaws
Where is the army fleeing?
Desire to feel them burn

Spines form to given foam
But as you lose yourself they trade for former homes
Laying themselves down, unaligned
In different storylines

Dictionaries have answers to everything known
Owning all meanings, meaning nothing at all
Labeling individuals and all things
From avalanches to eruption of mankind

Fix my eyes on you
Scribble languages on napkins
To bring education from there to near
Forget this just to remember.

The day I visited my country of origin let me begin, I crossed the U.S. border dividing Mexico & The United States. It was kinda a long journey, but really exciting. The mission was to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ, and have a good time visiting. I met very humble, respectful people, maybe the streets needed remodeling although things were a little under construction the plain sight was amazingly beautiful. The road was rocky, houses on cliffs, up and down road ways, unknown streets, beautiful city town mall, diverse groups of people, tasty candy, great food, original coca cola not like the U.S. coca cola, good meat and great sunny view I wanna go again some day :)...

i'm constantly piecing myself together
rebuilding and remodeling
gluing, stitching, and stapling
myself back together
so i don't easily fall apart
as i did once before

GM

The eyes of beauty truly stare at me
Working magic on my old cold heart
Erasing all pain I’ve felt with true glee
Remodeling me into a beautiful part
Knowing my pain I walk hand in hand
Inside I feel pure true indefinable love
No one woman or girl can truly stand
God’s gift to my life a true bird, a dove
Greatness awaits our new future as two
Infinity and eternity is boundlessly short
Ripped torn pieces now she is my glue
Lonely never more we are one support

Robin Rambles ridiculous rhyming rippling rainstorms red raincoats. Red hot mouth your mind expanding reinventing your brain blowing in all directions like a "Hurricane." Your so upset everything in your life you feel such a fret. All regret the same thing on R for replaying the same song if I only did it differently.
R for reruns or trying to regain useful design features too many glitches. I'm feeling under a spell those witches. Something is sharpening like a knife R for so relevant getting closer to zoom in I need more space and R for the room but no time for having fun.

Too many floods we need Vitamin R for plenty of "Rest Time" let's wrap it up for talk R for rambling on we need to move on.Too many sounds railroads and board meeting noises are so loud cannot concentrate human brain so wired. Wondering why so many people get fired. Time for R and R.R for rest relaxation, Rock and Roll  Hall of fame getting hammered red flame.R for rudely interrupted too many distraction and emails. Social networking once put on a pedestal razor sharp uniquely driven in our own portal. R for real or change of pace racing mortal. Think less you will get more things done "Razor Sharp" Mind of a list feeling more responsibility. Staying calm more focused trees to your path of tranquility.

So young and restless. Time is rambunctious so unruly wake-up and smells come through the coffee get more ambitious.
Razor Sharp looking Reindeers riding. Reentering your Royal home best royal plates flooding. So rich redesigning your words you must save your reputation. Looking radiant warm welcoming aloha everything is R for restless no time ha ha well it hit me like a hurricane  Hawaii. the revitalized roar of waves big need for a vacation. You are recovered feeling renewed like the rock star like Romeo no Julliete. You regret how many clouds of smoke of cigarettes. Another red hot eye of the storm roommate. Remodeling your new sublet.

Everything is computerized you always on your tablet. Razor sharp knife wishing you had another life. Walking on the red carpet.Pictures rule like French kiss red grapes and wine moment of Monet. Something went flat like a crepe Suzette. You tied your hair back French barrette. Ravishing but he's the Rebel he gave me a run for my money like the Ramon noodle devil. He sold your ring big diamond baguette he put you in the highest ramble of debt.You started to gamble like the rebel of roulette.You got another ring to reset romancing the stone. The phone keeps ringing you scream Red Devil leave me alone no R words again only the Author Robin.

One last kiss
One last dance
I walk this miserable, lonely, dark, grey, awful, life
In a trance
You broke my heart
I broke yours first
I think the memory of my selfishness, greed, lust, disloyalty
Hurts the worst
One day I'll build a home
One without my past life's mess
Even though we've grown apart, distant, away, separately
You'll always be my princess
I hope that one day I'll be given the chance
To give you that deserved romance
But if you had left me yesterday
I can't say I'd blame you anyway

Producing a liquid with so many meanings,
creating pictures right before your mind,
expressing happiness, anger or even facetiousness.
How small can something that essential be?

They will break you so easily, without a doubt,
remodeling every thing you held so dear.
Giving so many wrong impressions
but such a small amount of right ones.

So helpful but never really helping.
Just a simple glance, a glimpse, a quick look,
sold, to the boy with the very dark pair.

you rub them, you close and open them
Capturing this moment, maybe forever
In the end, they'll never let you down.

They always say not to let your happiness
Be dependent on something
Or someone
That can leave in an instant
But that's exactly what I find myself doing.
You are the cause of my smile
And the repellent of my frown.
The way your touch covers me
In a seran wrap layer of
Happiness that warms me
Both inside and out,
The way your voice ignites
A fire in my cheeks
And unlocks the cage to a million insects
That fly around my intestines
Bumping into the walls of my organs,
That is something I have become dependent on.
I don't do this,
I don't let down my walls
Usually.
But then you came in,
And knocked them down with every sledgehammer of a smile,
Every bulldozer of a kiss,
And now you're the remodeling team,
Repainting
And heating
The darkest room in the house.

excess rusted broken  shackles
free from ancient gyves
tongues in dungeons no more
a present prisoner of forefather's  measures

ears drum no more
notes fall through the cracks
remodeling skips yet another age
future slavers of our descendants

emancipated you stand
a guests to a freeman's  world
you are no more
return us to the future
free from the present past.

                                   In mirrored minds we remain.

Young darling, you've emerged.
Innocence has abandoned you like a old-time lover.

Sweet girl, the remodeling of your soul is finally in progress.
I know you see it. I could hear your heart banging on the doors to be set free.

Little doll, be afraid.
This world is not what you glimpsed on the magic box.  
Development is creeping in like a friendly bandit.

Gentle babe, it's time to add your revolution to history.
For your modification draweth closer.

Youngster, potential is your new spring of encouragement.
Refinement...your vision.

Isolated infant, don't move! Take off your chasity and give it to me now!
Blindly robbed, give me your virtue, open your hands and I'll fill it with the wonder of responsibility.

New time bloomer, welcome.
I honestly feel a great deal of sorrow for you.
You're not alone though. We're all chained to this thing called,  change.
Yes change, our old friend, better known as constant.

I know I'm forcing a remodel, but you have no choice in this...we have no choice in this.

Oh my unseasoned meat, I feel it for you. This, this evolutionary transformation.
Enhanced by growth I'll leave you unrecognizable.

Charming child, this inevitable happen is going to kidnap your once free spirit, and lock it in a cage. Never more to be set free.

My sweet joyous juvenile, your obsession with smiles is going to cease. As I slowly decease you urge to run.

The bus is passing, so go stand in the middle.
You'll survive, but only by my tools.

First, trade, then transition, followed by adaption, up next you'll adjust. Add some innovation in there. To conclude your finishing touches will be your revised version.

Good luck, you'll need it. I know I did.

                      ~Gabbriella with 2 b's~

I knew a couple, in that once upon a time
Where fecundity was a going concern in our circle of friends,
Who’d lost another child mid-pregnancy
(It may have been the third time,
As such evils, oddly enough, tend to arrive as a trinity)
They’d fiercely, defiantly given the child a dozen names,
Including each of their saints’ names
(A finger to the eye of certain relatives,
Who’d implied and occasionally outright sniped
Recreation without procreation is the darkest of sins.)
They had, after a fashion, made a certain piece with all that transpired,
God’s will or vagaries of chance or something in-between,
But some weeks down the line the distaff part of the equation
Began to experience something akin to pure madness,
Finding evil portent and intent and all and sundry
Which they’d touched upon during pregnancy:
Doctors, in-laws, her spouse,
Even the fables they’d read to her unborn child
(The tale of the Three Little Pigs singled out for particular scorn;
We live in a ******* house made of brick, and what did that get us?
She all but screamed at her beleaguered husband.)
This all passed after a time, the ceasing of the episodes
Due to the end of some delayed post-partum depression, perhaps,
Or the grim realization that raging against some deaf deity
Is a fruitless, pointless, fretful strut across the stage,
But, in any case, life returned to normal, more or less,
Though her husband found it somewhat disconcerting
How, in the process of doing some semi-necessary remodeling
(Keep her busy, their pediatrician had told him in an aside)
She attacked the old walls in an unused bedroom upstairs
With something very much approximating fury,
The plaster-and-lath flying hither and yon,
The dust hanging in the air everywhere you looked,
Leaving a taste like ashes in their mouths for days afterward.

Say no more to war
say yes to the human race
and let's fix this place

                   Kelly McManus

Everything turns out this way
Your body lust on others
It's fine I'm cold, emotionless
Blank face, pain immobilized
Neutrally dead, mind confused
Thinking to myself, am I just a waste
Of time, space, thoughts
I'm for sure a lost angel
In the midst of a heavy blizzard
The baddest one in town the devil
A rebel trapped in mental asylum
Activist political refugee, socialist
Chemist specialist, I'm far gone
Dead on arrival, my trust is placed
On his promise from the bible
I'll never give into the enemy
Even in desperate extremities
I'll keep my ground, it's not about you
It's about me I guess I'll pick up from here
You're mentally conquered, actions denied
Free will denounced, freedom's been stolen
I guess I'm alone trapped in this zone
Tommy guns strapped like Al Capone
I'm end up spraying led if things get hectic
My life was destined for evil and destruction
Now to begin remodeling a new construction

It was coming on darkness,
It was a Monday, the place was
closed, no lights, but 'say for a
neon Blue and Red Budweiser
sign flashing in the front window.
My father had built this place
over 72 years ago, his dream,
a Fried Chicken Restaurant in
a one trafic light, logging and
two mills town of 2800 souls.

Dad's "Chick-Inn" thrived for a time,
everyone loved his friend chicken,
this long before anyone out West
ever heard of the Southern Colonel.
Dad cooked and Mom ran the front.

On Saturday nights when the hard top
races were on, it was standing room
only. Even the railroad crews stopped
on the tracks and walked crossed the
Interstate to get a bite, Highway big rig
Truckers parked all over town to get a
good home cooked chicken dinner, or
chicken fried beef steak, hot biscuits
and gravy, best coffee for miles around.

That place nearly killed my parents,
opened at 6AM all three meals served
'till around 7PM, one day off on Mondays.
I was around 6 years old, I did not know
or appreciate how hard they slaved.

They persevered for a few years, then
sold the place and we moved on to a
bigger town and they to jobs less stressful,
they even bought their first home ever.

I remember the good smells from that kitchen
and sitting in one of the booths getting pleasant
attention from all the town folks. For my brother
and I even in old age, those are pleasant memories.

The old place looks pretty good, some new paint
and remodeling, the horseshoe counter is gone,
the seating is all different, no booths just tables.
It's now boasting "Fine Mexican Food Served Here",
and now some other family, one of many over all
these years I suspect, toils, mired in their dream of
restaurant ownership. The little town has not changed
much, one Mill closed down; one remains. It has
three traffic lights now and a population of 8000.

The sign outside the Fair Grounds a block away,
advertises "Hard Top Races this Saturday Night
                           Come One Come All."

My father's life ended twice:
First, on the day my mom passed away;
Next, when he took his last breath of air
Three months later to the day.

The year was 1998.
How long ago it seems! And yet
So many vivid memories
Make it a year I'll never forget.

Tangled up in straps and tubes
In ICU, my dad spent
His final month lying supine
While monitors beeped and tracked his descent.

Pneumonia for an emphysemic
Is not a kind and welcome friend.
A ventilator served as lungs
And breathed for Dad until the end.

A man who'd always loved ideas
And words, the poor guy had no choice:
Unable to speak because of equipment,
A pad of paper became his voice.

"You've got a strong heart," I said,
Trying to make his spirits rise.
"Too strong," he wrote. I looked away
So he wouldn't see the tears in my eyes.

While standing there, all I could see
Was a man who'd devoted many years
To serving others, challenging our brains,
Making us laugh, assuaging our fears.

I heard him reading us bedtime stories,
Correcting our grammar, playing word games,
Arguing politics with his friends,
Discussing Dickens, Hardy, and James.

I saw a man alone in a car,
Within the glow of a theater marquee,
Patiently waiting late at night
To pick up my friends and me.

I saw him working multiple jobs,
Fixing the plumbing, knocking down walls,
Remodeling the bathroom, and on the courts
Smacking the hell out of tennis *****.

Now in his deep blue eyes I could see
A question impossible to dismiss:
"Why after a life so full
Do we THEN have to end up like this?"

Any inkling of an answer
Was stifled with a grimace and frown
As death was tugging at his sleeve
And his body was slowly shutting down.

Life has bitter ironies
That we often bemoan or bewail.
We want to explain the inexplicable.
Our efforts are to no avail.

- by Bob B

you talked about
remodeling our
kitchen
and now
youre cooking in
someone else’s

you made plans
for our future
like there was
one

Woosh woosh
The floor is gone
I love remodeling

Towering abode,
bottomless abyss,
remodeling the mode,
consolidate the mess...
Round about midnight,
the makers guild gathers it's
gizmos, and assemble
to discuss sound,
sweeping the soul of dormant dust

The world is remodeling,
Can you feel it: did you hear it?
Black on black crime: The new Norm:

The Jim Crow laws were a system of anti- black laws.
These laws were made to keep black people lower than the white people .
The harsh punishments of these laws included being treated as a lower part of humanity.

Will this Black lives matter crash or will it
Seek black folk’s justice?

Who would have the sea any color the mint green
Or the school buses any color that yellow
Or the American green dollar
Now trim with black and red

Forget about the silver and gold coin, tossed them
In the Trevi Fountain:
just to please the madness
in some human’s hearts

look how those short two to three minute video
Often goes viral, in a nanosecond
And the lives of others can changes in a week

Oh, this new world is not coming together
Not much to say about those new executive orders
slow them down please! Slow them down.
No one love this worldly changes,
Especially the churches,
or what is left of the human race
Due bear in mind the ozone layer
Appreciate, the three months break

Pollution has declined and traffic jams have all but vanished.
but the increase of the Taser guns shot up
More than the shooting range

And when I called out to debunks this life
With all its beauty, its problems
God whisper to me, we need our poets
We need they spoken words and they written voices
we need a new Garden of Eden
     ,