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anastasiad Mar 2017
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Anais Vionet Feb 2023
It was Monday, June 20th, 2022. My roommates and I are in Paris to see Olivia Rodrigo (in two days). But tonight, I was doing a favor for my great uncle Remy. Taking my elderly great-aunt Yvonne to the airport.

In RL this all happened in French but I wouldn’t do that to you - but just so you know.

“I’ve always thought of Anais as a granddaughter,” Yvonne said too loudly into my phone, which she had picked up and I was afraid she’d drop. She kept trying to hold it to her ear.

She smiled at me with her old lady dimples. “That’s sweet of you to say,” I lied. She doesn’t fool me. She’s not innocuous. She’s as mean as a snake and she doesn’t like ME at all. How did I end up doing this? I asked myself.

“No Aunt Yvonne,” I said as I gently moved the phone away from her ear. “This is a CAMERA call. Hold it out so they can SEE you.” She’s saying a final goodbye to Remy and letting a cousin know her arrival time. As the Facetime call ends, I pocket my phone with relief.

Lisa’s with us (I told her not to come) and she doesn’t speak French. So for her, this whole task is an awkward pantomime. Charles, our escort, drove us to Orly airport and he’s circling in wait to pick us up.

Yvonne walks at a glacial pace, and it took forever to clear security. Lisa and I have special tags allowing us to escort Yvonne to her gate. I offered to get her a wheelchair, but NOOOOO.
“We need to hurry –,” I began, but she interrupted me.
“Why are you wearing that skintight nothing?” she barked loudly, irritatedly, “if I had YOUR figure, I’d hide those tiny *******” (“minuscules seins,” in French, loudly). Heads turned. As I flushed with irritation, she cackled like a witch.

It’s 8pm in Paris and 30.5°C (87°F). I’m wearing a sports bra and two tank tops. Sue me. I wasn’t planning on doing this at all. We were staggering slowly through the terminal when, like a gift from God, an Air France courtesy tram pulled up next to us.
“Get on,” I demanded, “or we’ll miss your flight.” She did - as slowly as humanly possible.

When we finally got seated at the gate, she sent me for bottled water, a sleep mask, a neck pillow, sugarless lemon drops and a Paris Match magazine. “Thank you, my dear,” she said upon my return, baring her teeth at me in what I suppose was meant to be a smile.

“You should come and visit me (in Libreville, Gabon, Africa),” she suggested, “I think there are things I could teach you.” This is like that gingerbread-house invitation we read about as children.

“I can’t,” I said, with feigned regret, "I'm in school,” (I wouldn’t go there if she lived with Timothée Chalamet).

I heard a familiar voice, and I looked up to see my Grandmèr arriving with her usual entourage of 7 or 8 lackeys, a couple of frazzled Air France employees and two gendarmes.
“Yvonne,” she said, pointing to the two Air France employees, “these people will see to you. Say goodbye to Anais.”

“Goodbye dear,” Yvonne said in a fake, fragile voice. I gave Yvonne a half-hearted Paris bises (two kisses on each side) and my Grandmèr shooed me away with a hand gesture and an impatient, “Go, GO.” I’m afraid uncle Remy’s in trouble.

Yvonne and her branch of the family are the slimiest people you could ever meet. They’re billion-heirs (not billionaires - billion-heirs) who (theoretically) stand to inherit handsomely when my Grandmèr dies (I am NOT in that grubby lineup). They’re liars, cheaters and scoundrels who’d stab you in the face for an olive to put in their martinis. They're legal reasons my Grandmèr has to put up with them from time to time - but every interaction is fraught with phoniness.

About fifteen minutes later, Lisa and I are in the car with Charles racing back to Paris for dinner with our roommates. As I texted them to expect us in 20 minutes, Lisa said, “I got bad vibes from that old lady - the way she LOOKED at you when you weren’t watching..”

“YOU,” I said with a chuckle, “are very perceptive!”
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Fraught: “causing emotional stress or something bad.”
Bintun Nahl 1453 Mar 2015
“ Hari ini ku mati,
Perlahan...
Tubuhku ditutup tanah.
Perlahan...
Semua pergi meninggalkanku...

Masih terdengar jelas langkah² terakhir mereka,
Aku sendirian,
Di tempat gelap yang tak pernah terbayang,
Sendiri,
Menunggu pertanyaan malaikat...

Belahan hati,
Belahan jiwa pun pergi.
Apa lagi sekedar kawan dekat atau orang lain.
Aku bukan siapa-siapa lagi bagi mereka...

Sanak keluarga menangis,
Sangat pedih,
Aku pun demikian,
Tak kalah sedih...

Tetapi aku tetap sendiri,
Di sini, menunggu perhitungan.
Menyesal sudah tak mungkin.
Tobat tak lagi dianggap,
Dan maaf pun tak bakal didengar,
Aku benar-benar harus sendiri...

Ya Allah...
Jika Engkau beri aku 1 lagi kesempatan,
Jika Engkau pinjamkan lagi beberapa hari milik-MU,
Untuk aku perbaiki diriku,
Aku ingin memohon maaf pada mereka...

Yang selama ini telah merasakan dzalimku,
Yang selama ini sengsara karena aku,
Tersakiti karena aku...

Aku akan kembalikan jika ada harta kotor ini yang telah kukumpulkan,
Yang bahkan kumakan,
Ya Allah beri lagi aku beberapa hari milik-Mu,
Untuk berbakti kepada Ayah & Ibu tercinta...

Teringat kata-kata kasar & keras yang menyakitkan hati mereka,
Maafkan aku Ayah & Ibu, mengapa tak kusadari betapa besar kasih sayangmu,

Beri juga ya Allah aku waktu untuk berkumpul dengan keluargaku,
Menyenangkan saudara-saudaraku..
Untuk sungguh-sungguh beramal soleh.

Aku sungguh ingin bersujud dihadapan-Mu lebih lama lagi..
Begitu menyesal diri ini.
Kesenangan yang pernah kuraih dulu,
Tak ada artinya sama sekali...

Mengapa kusia-siakan waktu hidup yang hanya sekali itu...?
Andai aku bisa putar ulang waktu itu...

Aku dimakamkan hari ini,
Dan ketika semua menjadi tak termaafkan,
Dan ketika semua menjadi terlambat,
Dan ketika aku harus sendiri...
Untuk waktu yang tak terbayangkan sampai yaumul hisab & dikumpulkan di Padang Mashar...

Puisi Almarhum "Bang Remy Soetansyah,"
"ANDAI HARI INI AKU DIMAKAMKAN"

DariNya kita datang, kepadaNya kita kembali…

Assalamu’laikum sahabat..

Innalillahi wa innaa ilaihi raaji'uun telah kembali ke rahmatullah Olga Syahputra kemarin jum'at sore di Rumah sakit Singapura, Oki turut berduka sedalam2nya, dan do’akan bersama semoga Olga Syahputra di terima iman islamnya dilapangkan kuburnya, di tempatkan di tempat terindah di syurga, keluarga yg di tinggalkan di beri kesabaran..aamiin..al-fatihah..

Bagi kita yg di tinggalnya tentunya bisa jadi pelajaran bahwa maut datang kapan saja tidak bisa kita prediksi , bisa satu tahun lagi, sebulan lagi, satu hari lagi atau sedetik lagi..hidup di dunia ini hanyalah sementara..

Aku dan dunia ibarat orang dalam perjalanan menunggang kendaraan, lalu berteduh di bawah pohon untuk beristirahat dan setelah itu meninggalkannya. (HR. Ibnu Majah)

Rasulullah menyadarkan kepada kita selaku umatnya akan pendeknya waktu hidup di dunia itu, namun waktu yang sangat pendek itu sangat-sangat bermanfaat, sehingga harus diisi dengan hal-hal yang sangat bermanfaat…

Sahabat pesan Olga kepada adiknya, untuk selalu melaksakan ibadah sholat 5 waktu jangan pernah di tinggalkan...selalu berbuat baik....
SøułSurvivør Sep 2014
In the annals of New York City
An amazing hero is acclaimed,
Known as "The man in the red bandana"
Welles Remy Crowther was his name.

Born in Nineteen seventy seven,
This New Yorker, born and bred,
Could have escaped death's destruction,
But chose to rescue folks instead.

All his life he cared for people,
Loved his family, kept them dear,
But on that day of 9/11
His higher purpose became clear.

An Honor Student, Lacrosse player,
Former fire fighter, too,
When explosions rocked the building,
Welles knew what he must do.

Rescuing with calm authority,
Directing people toward the doors,
He found a woman so disabled
He carried her to the 61st floor.

In the end, before death took him,
Twelve people were brought out, saved.
No one knows where Welles is buried
In his 9/11 grave.

Later, when his mother told
Of the red bandana Welles had,
The survivors saw his picture,
And knew Welles was the brave lad.

Only 26 years old,
Welles Crowther manned up in strife,
That young man is New York's hero...

... for twelve gave HIS VERY LIFE.


Soul Survivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) September 11, 2014
13th anniversary of 9/11
Welles Remy Crowther
1977 - 2001
R.I.P.
Remy Oct 2021
And Remy were supposed to have a life together.
Lucy is now with Heather,
Remy could be doing better.
Lucy and Heather fall too deep,
Remy is going to fall asleep.
Lucy realizes her mistake,
For Remy, it’s too late.
Happy Halloween!
Katie Doe Apr 2013
I feel my wings have broken in your hands
I feel the words unspoken inside
And, they pull you under
And, I will give you anything you want, oh
You are all I wanted
All my dreams are fallen down
Crawlin' around and around and around

Somebody save me
Let your warm hands break right through it
Somebody save me
I don't care how you do it, just stay, stay
C'mon, I've been waiting for you

I see the world has folded in your heart
I feel the waves crash down inside
And, they pull me under
I would give you anything you want, oh
You are all I wanted
All my dreams have fallen down
Crawlin' around and around and around...

Somebody save me
Let your warm hands break right through it
Somebody save me
I don't care how you do it, just stay, stay
C'mon, I've been waiting for you

All my dreams are on the ground
Crawlin' around and around and around...

Somebody save me
Let your warm hands break right through
Somebody save me
I don't care how you do it just stay (stay with me)

I made this whole world shine for you
Just stay, stay
C'mon, I'm still waiting for you
Lynn Legend Apr 2015
My sisters got to open up their eyes
Be wise and Realize who you laying with

Just don't give out the prize
If he ain't winning it

Blame the men but you
Knew he wasn't ****
When you layed with him

So now you got a baby by him


You was with him
To get a prize
Trying to live
How others fantasize


Second to everyone
You only make em' ***
You thought you was the lucky 1
Don't get caught up in
One night of fun

I mean what do
You expect you show ya self
No respect

Twerking for the gram
That **** don't get you a check

Let me put you In check
You worth more than any
Gold around a ***** neck

I'm telling you this cause I care
I see behind the remy  hair
Take off that contour
You was pretty before

Don't sell your self short
Your worth so much more

-Lynn Legend
Love yourself ladies
Travis Green Apr 2021
Boy, you’re so fine
You got me in your lane
You’re about to make me faint
The way your game is set up
I know you’re what I want
My heart is locked in
Tell me when I can hit you up
So I can talk about my feelings for you

Boy, let me in
Take me to your crib
I just wanna be deep
And sip Remy
Feel your energy
With the lampshades on
With our phones turned off
With the window curtains open
So we can watch the stars
And share all the things
That we have in common
Wayne Pritchett Oct 2010
At times I sit
Back and relax
from the daily disappointment
of another failed attempt
to make a milli
out of 2 greenbacks
and a shiny penny
so money i lack
due to employers
not callin a brotha back
"dont worry Wayne"
"i dont care about that"
"im really feelin you"
"i got yo back"

her name was Elaine
beautiful black woman
skinned the finest brown
kept my head off the ground
facing up to the sky
with all the confidence
of a grown *** man
till the week my luck
ran out like
our well ran dry
i was victim of nonsence
moms got word that
i smashed in the backseat
snatched back the keys
havent seen ol' girl since

lookin up to ask
what more can happen
i recieve a call
that put me on my ***
my one thang from
around the way
was seen at the mall
hugged up wit women
i put the phone down
cause im mad as hell
turned to the liquor
tilted the bottle
maybe i can find
that hidden message
pour up the brown
so i can sip
till i cant tell
this *******
aint just in my mind

Courvoisier or Hennessy
Remy Martin too
when i find my
next one thang
the brown got my back
when im in the groove
kissing the lips
of that beautiful child
born of kings and queens
of kingdoms not crack
workin a 9 to 5
not depending on
the next coke move
relieving her stress
while breaking that back
blast off at 9
cause her love
might taste so divine
scratch me up
then we goin till 5
i know i wont
be that 60 second man
and let her down
cause the brown got my back
i figured out my problem
just gotta lay that
brown **** down
(c) Wayne Pritchett
Anais Vionet May 2023
Slang..
Chick-fil-a = the best place ever
jade = *****
brooke = gorgeous
mishin = the boss, as in “You aren’t the boss of me.”

We’re on vaycay. School is OVER, COVID is over. We’re in New York City and we’re doin’ the town this time. Lisa told me, “You showed me Paris last summer, now I’m going to show you New York City.” Her mom, Karen, smiled and gave a little sideways, “Yes, yes we ARE’ nod.

Leong and Sunny, two of my Yale roommates, and my BF Peter are staying in Lisa’s (parent’s) 50th floor Manhattan apartment for the week. The apartment is singularly stunning, with its all-glass views of Central Park and the city, but it only has five bedrooms - so we’re doubled up a bit.

One of the things that makes Manhattan chick-fil-a, is that the Broadway theaters are 15 minutes from Lisa’s door. You step out, whirl around Columbus Circle and you’re on Broadway! Minutes later, you’re in your seat, Oh, and don’t forget to get the cinnamon crusted almonds.

We saw ‘Bad Cinderella’ the night before last - that was only a ‘West End’ show (I’m learning to be a Broadway snob). Tonight, we’re going to see Hamilton. Last night, we saw ‘Hadestown.’ I didn’t know anything about ‘Hadestown,’ but Leeza (Lisa’s 13 year old sister) has seen it three times now.

We’d just finished lunch and Lisa started off a debate. “Is Orpheus (one of Hadestown’s leading characters, played by Reeve Carney) superhot - the hottest man alive - or is he the littlest jade ever?
“He’s brooke,” Leeza swooned dreamily, fanning her face as if it’s hot, “I’d definitely hit that.”
Lisa gasped, “shutUP, you aren’t “hitting” anyone.
Leeza’s been driving Lisa up-the-wall all morning. We had Pancakes and bacon for breakfast and Leeza’s been all rude and maple sugar buzzed ever since.
“You aren’t mushin,” Leeza snorted, and as Lisa gave her a threat-laden look, Leeza finished with, “that man can get it.”
I’ve seen this before - and these sisters are heading for it.

Leong adds “Orpheus sees a submissive woman in distress. What he thinks he sees, is a typically beautiful woman, by societal standards, who he knows nothing about - and he’s like, ‘I want to marry you.”
Sunny leaned into the conversation fiercely, saying, “He doesn’t KNOW her! Wouldn’t you just punch that guy in the face?”
“Probably,” I answered, laughing, “if he weren’t in a frigging MUSICAL!”

“Excuse me,” Lisa interrupts, “you’re telling me that this scene doesn’t perpetuate the idea that only looks matter?” As one of the most beautiful women in the WORLD, Lisa is sensitive to objectification.

Sunny adds, “One reason to cancel him - I assume we’re trying to cancel him now - is that he sees a woman in distress and says ‘that’s the one, the love of my life,’ - a beautiful woman who can’t survive on her own.”

“She didn’t need him,” I suggested, “he was a burden on her.”    
Peter, who’s been working away on his laptop, looked up and said, “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

Leeza, snarked, “Then go back to your little coding.”
I think I gasped and Peter looked a little shocked.

When Lisa, who’d gotten up to get some ice, heard that comment from Leeza, she said, “THAT’S IT,” in a steely voice.

Leeza, who was sitting with her back to the kitchen on the huge white sectional, had a millisecond to look over before Lisa pounced on her. She came in from her backside rolling over onto Leeza, trying to cover her mouth.

Leong, and Sunny, who’d never seen these to wildcats at it before, squealed and flinched out of the way. Peter, an only child, found this delightful and hilarious. He burst out laughing with glee, as he too, cleared some space.

“You’re trying to silence me!” Leeza yelled, giggling and grabbing Lisa’s arms as they got into a full, sister wrestling, flailing ball of hair and arms. Rolling off the couch and onto the floor. “SHUT UP,” Lisa demanded at the top of her voice.
“She’s trying to silence me!” Leeza howled again, “I will not be silenced!” This match continued for a hot minute until Lisa got Leeza’s arms pinned with her knees.
“Apologize!” Lisa said, out of breath, as she began to ponytail her hair.

“Excuse me,” Leeza yelled, herself gasping for breath but trying to blow strands of her red hair out of her face and wiggle free. “I’d like my lawyer - get OFF me - you ******* Karen!”

When that doesn’t work Leeza starts yelling, “HELP, MOM, ****!!” at the top of her lungs.

Karen, on a laptop in a glass walled alcove just off the living room, had seen the whole everything. Folding down her laptop lid, she stuck her head out and said, “Girls.”

Then Michel, their dad, is in the doorway, “What are you two doing?” He asked softly.

The fight immediately broke up, Lisa and Leeza sheepishly disengaging. “Nothing,” they said, together in near perfect union. Lisa gave Leeza a wide-eyed, tilted head look and Leeza said, “I’m sorry Peter, I was only foolin’ around.”
“I know,” Peter replied, chuckling, “but it was worth it.”

Sunday - drum roll please - this Sunday (Mother’s day), we’re going to see Taylor Swift in concert.
On Monday, Peter and I jet off to Paris (and Saint-Tropez) for 10 days. He’ll get to meet my Grandmère and Uncle Remy - I’m SO hyped.

I’m squeezing a lot into the first three weeks of summer. My fellowship starts June 1st, and that’ll take all of June and July. I can’t wrap my head around being a junior next year. Where’s the time GONE?
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Laden: something heavily loaded with something, literally or figuratively.
Brian Payamps Nov 2014
"Which are You?
Those who go to bed early
Look forward to tomorrow
Those who dread the coming day
Stay up until they can see the sun
Just to make sure they'll make it." -Sara K

To Sarah k which are you?

I'm the one who wishes to sleep early looking forward for the day.
But as the night gets older I start dreading for tomorrow.
At 10 pm is two nyquil with water.
From 11 to 12 is dark liquor.
Hennessy or Remy hoping that'll do the trick
I just want to sleep until God calls me.
1230 hits I'm still wide awake
So I crush and roll and my eyes blood clot
By 1am my body is done but my mind still racing.
I take a percocet feeling if I numb the body just enough I can numb the brain and lay to rest
I don't want to see tomorrow anymore
I don't want the to sun rise.
Is winter time in NY so light has yet to hit the horizon
2,3,4, I toss, I turn
Turmoil in my train of thoughts
As if I was walking through the river of sorrows
At 5 I finally close my eyes
630 finally arrives
My window is perfectly aligned with the sun
While the rays go through my shades
And rest upon my eyes
I awake maybe wishing I would be laid to rest
Chilly morning and my day begins
Xanax for my anxiety and depression
Adderall to keep me focus and awake
Red bull for breakfast and I'm on my way.

I am the one that whish he sleeps but is always wide awake writing with blood as if it was ink.
Top poem written by Sarah K the below Poem by me. Not a compilation she inspired me this morning.
Después de Azul... después de Los Raros, voces insinuantes, buena y mala intención, entusiasmo sonoro y envidia
subterránea -todo bella cosecha-, solicitaron lo que, en conciencia, no he creído fructuoso ni oportuno: un manifiesto.Ni fructuoso ni oportuno:a) Por la absoluta falta de elevación mental de la mayoría pensante de nuestro continente, en la cual impera el universal personaje
clasificado por Remy de Gourmont con el nombre de Celui-qui-ne-comprend-pas. Celui-qui-ne-comprend-pas es, entre nosotros, profesor, académico
correspondiente de la Real Academia Española, periodista, abogado, poeta, rastaquouer.b) Porque la obra colectiva de los nuevos de América es aún vana, estando muchos de los mejores talentos en el limbo de un completo desconocimiento
del mismo Arte a que se consagran. c) Porque proclamando, como proclamo, una estética acrática, la imposición de un modelo o de un código implicaría
una contradicción.Yo no tengo una literatura «mía» -como la ha manifestado una magistral autoridad-para marcar el rumbo de los demás: mi literatura
es mía en mí-; quien siga servilmente mis huellas perderá su tesoro personal y, paje o esclavo, no podrá ocultar sello o librea.
Wágner, a Augusta Holmés, su discípula, dijo un día: «lo primero, no imitar a nadie, y sobre todo, a mí». Gran decir.Yo he dicho, en la misa rosa de mi juventud, mis antífonas, mis secuencias, mis profanas prosas.-Tiempo y menos fatigas de alma y corazón
me han hecho falta para, como un buen monje artífice, hacer mis mayúsculas dignas de cada página del breviario. (A través
de los fuegos divinos de las vidrieras historiadas me río del viento que sopla afuera, del mal que pasa). Tocad, campanas de oro, campanas de
plata, tocad todos los días, llamándome a la fiesta en que brillan los ojos de fuego, y las rosas de las bocas sangran delicias únicas.
Mi órgano es un viejo clavicordio pompadour, al son del cual danzaron sus gavotas alegres abuelos; y el perfume de tu pecho es mi perfume, eterno incensario de carne.
Varona inmortal, flor de mi costilla.Hombres soy.¿Hay en mi sangre alguna gota de sangre de África, o de indio chorotega o nagrandano? Pudiera ser, a despecho de mis manos de marqués;
mas he aquí que veréis en mis versos princesas, reyes, cosas imperiales, visiones de países lejanos o imposibles: ¡qué
queréis!, yo detesto la vida y el tiempo en que me tocó nacer; y a un presidente de República no podré saludarle en el idioma
en que te cantaría a ti, ¡oh Halagabal!, de cuya corte -oro, seda, mármol- me acuerdo en sueños...
(Si hay poesía en nuestra América, ella está en las cosas viejas: en Palenke y Utatlán, en el indio legendario,
y en el inca sensual y fino, y en el gran Moctezuma de la silla de oro. Lo demás es tuyo, demócrata Walt Whitman).Buenos Aires; Cosmópolis.¡Y mañana!El abuelo español de barba blanca me señala una serie de retratos ilustres: «Éste, me dice, es el gran don Miguel de Cervantes
Saavedra, genio y manco; éste es Lope de Vega; éste, Garcilaso; éste, Quintana». Yo le pregunto por el noble Gracián, por
Teresa la Santa, por el bravo Góngora y el más fuerte de todos, don Francisco de Quevedo y Villegas. Después exclamo: ¡Shakespeare!
¡Dante! ¡Hugo...! (Y en mi interior: ¡Verlaine...!)Luego, al despedirme: «Abuelo, preciso es decíroslo; mi esposa es de mi tierra; mi querida, de París».¿Y la cuestión métrica? ¿Y el ritmo?Como cada palabra tiene un alma, hay en cada verso, además de la armonía verbal, una melodía ideal. La música es
sólo de la idea, muchas veces.La gritería de trescientas ocas no te impedirá, silvano, tocar tu encantadora flauta, con tal de que tu amigo el ruiseñor
esté contento de tu melodía. Cuando él no esté para escucharte, cierra los ojos y toca para los habitantes de tu reino
interior. ¡Oh pueblo de desnudas ninfas, de rosadas reinas, de amorosas diosas!Cae a tus pies una rosa, otra rosa, otra rosa, ¡Y besos!Y la primera ley, creador: crear. Bufe el eunuco. Cuando una musa te dé un hijo, queden las otras ocho encinta.
Quentin Briscoe Apr 2013
She tussled and fought,
squirmed and wiggled,
the ends of her hairs
oh how they tickled.
She smelled of sugar and spice
like purple haze,
remy martin,
and bubblicious ,
the sins of life...
Everything nice.
Her lips drove me crazy
I could smell the cherry
dying to be burst,
I'm going to save this one
as she fights
I squeeze,
As she bites
I likes,

A woman...
I found a woman
Cuz she won't
just give it up....

How to keep her safe????
thats gonna be hard to explain,
I can see it in her face......
NeroameeAlucard Mar 2017
"Come on page, where do the words fit?"
In the puzzle that is my brain, i ask as at
The table i sit
My hairs have split, like cheap ****** Remy
But then again maybe my idea bulb isn't lit.

"Come along pen, why can't you write?"
We've been up with this piece since last night
I ask myself again, this is really starting to frighten me, i know i might be pressuring myself too much,
But that's where the best moments come from, in the clutch.

"Come on heart, where's your spark? You usually flutter in the act of creating art!"
But alas no wings flapping, and no adrenaline rushing like a spotted chameleon
Just stone faced cynicism like a gremlin
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
We’re walking through magnetic fields.

We approach the stop sign yield.

How lovely someone’s name
“WC Field”

Bondman what a con man.

Going West “May I May West” I’m a fan.

What names do we like the best?

Rosetta, she keeps smiles and

gets wet-a his eyes tell her

he’s in the sunset to get her

Someone to bond “At-Last”

The different era desperate housewife.

One is Rosetta meets one of her friends

Violet-ta what drama Ra Rata

Frank Sinatra says well that’s life.

Holding two names eyes of a magnet

in one hand.Powerful love garnet

God’s name expressed love command

So sacred in a new land.

Rosetta please get your friend.

He addresses her as a poinsettia.

Garlands Of Judy extend.

The poinsettia his finger points

until Emma visits hum?
What is she up too?

She is quite the dilemma give her the evil eye.

The violin sounds Heather lilac meets Violet-ta.

Beatles play with “Sweet Loretta.”

Sipping Camilla Cafe I want to hold your hand.

She marries her best man best-spilled the margarita.

How’s Rebecca organically has grown to Omega?

Movie star suspenseful Marx Garbo so Groucho.

What a pain Mr. Panetta eating his
words Mucho gracias

Shark -fin soup Chinese delicacy.

He bite’s the bruschetta his ballot Presidency.

How he expressed A secret Emma the Emmy

Got caught in a big Dilemma with Remy

The wrong ***** of a vendetta

Smell the coffee wake up you betta or else?

That computer mouse true or false.

Billy Joel stranger met his counterfeiter

Going Uptown girl sings on his piano expressed A

comment to kiss her.
But you’re a stranger?

Rumors with leaks of plumber’s Raven birds.

Don’t flood my words.

A perfect rose how he gave it to Rosetta.

We need more names what about Tatiana.

I saw her dancing at the “Copacabana Wella.”

A-Men that’s how I met Rosetta.
This his all names maybe this will wet someone whistles so many names not enough time  who do we really blame for having the most unusual name
Anais Vionet Mar 5
The sharpened mind - with care - takes aim
- at university, we play ruthless games.
Where pencils scratch, their graphite gray,
and scholarly answers take the day.

I've finished midterms!
It was like one of those TV shows, ‘survivor’ or something.

Enzyme kinetics, metabolic pathways, protein structures and functions be ****** - no, be double ******.

I’d been working problems raw in dreams, waking up tired.

Sunday, I was so stressed I'd felt calm, like I’d accepted my fate.
I can tell you that now - now that I survived.

“I was strazzled but controlled - there's a difference in how
I struggle internally - and what I let show.” I told Leong.
“Is that why you were yelling at everyone?” she replied.

“Now that midterms are over, I feel luminary,” I informed Leong, “am I glowing?”
She looked up and said, “No.” Communists aren’t sentimental.
Of course I meant luminary in both achievement and radiance.

My Uncle Remy used to tell me:
“Little one, don’t worry about being a failure,
that’s your parent’s job.”

I Love you Uncle Remy.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Luminary: is a person of brilliance or a celestial body.

strazzled = stressed and frazzled

Our cast:  Leong and I.
Leong, (roommate) 20, is from Macau, China and she’s a proud communist ("don’t knock it til you’ve tried it"). She's a ‘molecular, cellular, and developmental biology major.’ We both speak Cantonese, and we talk a lot of secret trash together.

Spring break is in two days - I'm packing for Paris!
Red Fox Nov 2015
I still don't know what poem to write!
Write about the black man's plight?
Nah, oversaturated and a little too light.
So, ... We'll scratch that.

After this maybe someone will match that.
But seriously, maybe about me.
But I'm not free or open
And you don't wanna hear about how
I'm 24 years old and spent the last 12 smokin'
Ya probably think I'm joking.

But seriously,
Some would call this this writer's block.
Then what am I doing up here
Just wasting my 15 seconds of fame
Before I leave ashamed
Drowning my pain in a bottle
Of someone else's Success?

So who will it be tonight?
Jack, Remy or Jimmy?
But before I go
Do me a favor
Please applaud.

So I don't slump into a depression,
upon realizing my pocket's recession
So a flew claps can sway my pain
So please do me that favor
And don't let me leave ashamed!
Open Mic Rant
Nicole Bataclan Apr 2013
Do not tell me
It does not exist
Do not dare me
To cease

To dream

I have seen Paradise
From above
Now right before my eyes
I fall in love

A kind of blue
That is unreal
A moment so pure
Only happy hearts can feel

Leaving footprints
In the sand
I deem
We are one with the sun

Dear Paradise
That is ours
Dear Muriel and Remy
That made it ours

We leave
But not unchanged

Paradise Island

On your shores,
Our love for you
Forevermore remains.
Celine Nguyen Feb 2015
the emptiness that dawns on me
images conjured in my
mind
only to have left me blind

i thought i could suffice
such an hour
but that hour turns into days
and those days...
all those days for you to have stayed away.

long fights
empty nights
only to leave the Devil
to shine his light of fire

He leads me down
the realm of Hell
controlling my soul
holding me whole

the rope intertwined between my fingertips
i desperately
hopelessly and
foolishly
try to stand on my own two feet

but sometimes i feel that
the only thing it sound intertwine
is my
neck.

shots of sake
transfer to
shots of bleach
in order to drown the emotions
of being so bleak

'open your mouth'
He whispers
'pain will no longer exist here'
He smirks.

Jack Daniels
Richard Hennessy
Remy Martin

'they're your friends
baby girl,
they'll love you when no one else will'
He taunts.

Vyvanse  
Oxy
Klonpin
Xannies  

'they all taste the same,
its like candy'
He promises  

Blow
Fantasia
Hell Dust

'Its a gift from Earth,
just trust me'
He demands.

He
my savior
and I
the distressed

He
my master
and I
the slave

He
still Satan
and I
in satin

00:59
one minute to be saved
they tell me,
save yourself or
remain unsaved

in the lonely hour
where there is just
myself
and voided love

I declared
not to be saved
01:00
Anais Vionet Jul 2021
Paris, earlier today. It’s a (vaccinated) summer family reunion and I’m catching up with relatives I haven’t seen for AGES. Like my impeccably dressed (three piece suit on a warm, un-air-conditioned, Saturday) 83 year old great uncle.

We cheek kiss

“STILL searching for love, Uncle Remy?”

“Forget love. My dear, I’m an old, self-absorbed narcissist. What I look for is someone young and frivolous whose most complicated desire is fun - specifically fun that can be bought - that’s an important distinction.”

I gasp and pose.

“You’re looking for MEEEE!,” I squeal.

“Oh, if I needed a spoiled, over-serious, temperamental, unappeasable rich girl - I’d think of you.”

“You GET me!,” *I beam with pride
My French family are SO funny - they are brutal with complements. =]
Cardboard-Jones Jun 2018
When I found you on the rooftop
Crumbling at the knees,
You confessed to me the air
Made it hard to breathe.
You felt complacent
But knew you had somewhere you had to be,
Just getting harder to leave.

We found some solace
In the undergrounds of Charm City.
You said “These basement shows relieve the angst inside of me.”
I said “It’s gonna get better, love, just wait and see.”
It’s getting hard to believe.

Wandering hearts.
We were lost in the Art Space, the soul of the city.
Looking for answers
All we found were strangers and bands bonding over riffs.

She’s still waiting for the air to be breathable again.

There we were, sardine packed,
Shouting out for the band.
Vibes of Old Bay Punk echoed off the walls.
Jimmy’s worried the neighbors might call a noise complaint.
Tommy’s laughing as he turns up the stereo.

After the show
We stumbled out of the basement
Off balanced and content.
Smelling like sweat and Natty Boh.
The high wore off and we were back to where we began,
Wandering the streets with shattered lungs and dreams.

On Charm City rooftops
You broke down all around me
Along with the railings in the basement of Art Space.
By one or two we wandered into the Ale House.
We were just in time before they had last call.

Somewhere on Pratt street
We ran into Remy.
He was looking for Megan and a taco truck.
Found our way, unwinding on a bench by the harbor.
I swear there was magic in your midnight eyes.
You held my hand, and breathed a bit lighter.

The air is not so bad...
Rigmarole Oct 2016
On a whim one day we took the car
And drove for miles and miles, quite far
To visit a place, a sanctuary
For cats and dogs and all things hairy

All three of us without a plan
Had never been best friend as man only can
We had no clue when disembarking of all the curs
Alone there skulking and marking

The couple who had come on holiday
Decided to stay when confronted by strays
And in their house they were inundated
With bowls and beds and little bodies mutilated

In one cage a ball of fur hid and retreated
Into the shadows and disappeared
I failed to notice this little hound
Instead shed tears for all around

With anxious steps from Helena and Remy  
We were led to a cage much bigger and roomy
Where inside seemed to hide a huge Bear
Who smiled and sniggered and appeared not to care

This one we took out for a walk
But before that we asked who could not talk
And from the cage the most pitiful thing
With one broken leg and fear heartbreaking

We bundled them both out that day
And bathed and fed and loved them forever
And still today
For our four legged rescue dogs, they rescued us, thank you to Ash Animal Rescue, Wicklow, Ireland
Jude kyrie Aug 2015
The madness roars inside me once more
like a ghost hiding behind the door.
I am in the Asylum at Saint Remy again
A prisoner put there by my raging brain
The nights are the worst screams of pain
manifested in the minds of the insane.

I have to paint to set my mind free
To let the madness flow out of me
from the tip of my brush In vivid hue.
I see the color of violet blue
Inside my brain in my dreams
beautiful blues in floral schemes.

In the small garden area outside my room
I see a group of iris in full bloom
I search for blue in a shaft of sunlight
I see my vision It is a group of irises
on the pathway this scene is right

The picture forms inside my head
The hues of blue will ease my dread
The bright orange marigolds cheer away  my fears
Catching dewdrops reflections like golden tears
The glow of the iris deep cobalt hues
Pointed and perfect, satisfying needs of blues

Lost in my transcription my madness fades
I think this painting has beautiful shades
The only sanity I can find in here
In this turmoil I am thinking clear

It is finished now for all to see
People are asking this of me
Why there is a single white iris all alone
in all the violet ones just white as stone.
They cant understand it but I can
It is different yet alike all the others,
and so lonely just as I am
yeah I ****** kiesha cole
that's why she said "I shouldnt let yo go"
but I had to flow
to the next ***** hole
Monica didn't "wanna be alone"
so i let her play with my bone
and I can't forget Ashanti
I was "foolish" but then I got "mesmorize "
by her pretty eyes thick thighs
got **** got my **** in a rise
n don't let me see Sade
cuz I'll "cherish the day"
in the same way I'll lay
my pipe in any bad chick
next on my list we gotta Meagan Good
yeah I'll **** her "waist deep"
she'll call me Tyrese
make her a "nasty girl" like vanity
yo im reaching for some sanity but the man in me
ain't done huh
I'll **** Remy Ma just for fun huh
what about Mariah Carey
hit the ***** from the rear
it's hairy, Truman never been a. ***** man
but I'll only gut **** Iggy in her **** dumb ****
even though you ain't black
give her that real BBC
down with OPP see me
running through these "freaks a leeks"
like petey pablo swift flow
back to the **** though
I got dibs on angelina jolies mouth whoaa
**** it good girl don't waste my nut
I got SWV to share it with
and watch the "rain"
fall on thee like im peein'
***** see the little demons
tap dancing I'm Just reminscing and scheming
but things ain't what it seems
yo im just in a dreams hmmmm

Yosef Amaryahu
I got a call me from tweet
she left a message after the beep
on the celluar she
"oops my bad"cuz I had
her fiendin' for the **** cuz I'm slick like Rick please girlies
calm down there's plenty of **** to go around
next I hear a doorbell sound
it's my baby girl mc lyte I made her "cha cha cha"
cuz I put hits on her like Chaka
made her feel good like "Hollywood" then out the door and on my way
I ran into Roxanne Shante
**** she drop the bomb on me
she told me
she was the "real Roxanne"
And said nobody
could **** better than me
I said really? politely I just be me chillin' smokin' Phillies
like playas do Missy Elliot ain't been the same since
I hit her with "the rain" bedsheet stains of her ***** drains
and traces of *******
yeah I'll admit I was a little insane
but not as insane as Lil' Kim
she looked at me grim
told me she got a" crush on me"
and go above the rim
I ain't leon ***** I'm the don
make like flex and I got one on one with these hoes smokin' octimos
one more to go
and last on my list
I got this chick name Mya
"Ghetto superstar"
***** fire heated her like a dryer made her retire
from the bedroom cuz I drilled her thrills sent her
body chills now she
rubbin' my chest beggin' I was ill
sick with it but
I'm just coachin" my teams
chasin' my dreams huh
dilshé Aug 2021
i desire to reside
in Van Gogh's 'The Starry Night'
amid swirls of sapphire blues
timeless at moonrise, amber lights
wind warps the firmament
- magnificently expressive twilight
as dawn seeps in whirling, unforseen-
Saint Remy's asylum view; in sight.
silent village, cerulean nocturne
whispering melancholy -
painting, bohemian.
Inspired by Vincent van Gogh's famous painting.
claire Jun 2019
a little mouse (remy)
a koala
a troll doll
and wicked pretty
Sona Lachina Sep 2019
We cruised down the Seine
        on the Bateaux Mouches
        you and I
You gave me your coat
It was starry-cool that night
We stood on the deck
        and sipped Remy Martin
Your love still alive then --

We sat at the cafe
Where Hemingway paused
        back in the day
Remember the gray-muzzled dog
        lapping spilled cognac
        under the table
You looked into my eyes
        With joy's surprise --

That warm sun-love day
        on the Champs d'Elysees
You leaned in and kissed my hair
I knew you would never leave
I tipped a mime along the way
Who hid his face with a hat
        How fresh was that
Paris was never more beautiful --

We roamed the Latin Quarter
And drank bordeaux in our room
You couldn't resist me --
How was I to know
        you would go away
Without a word to say
Leaving our postcards
Scattered 'cross the bed
I should have burned them
        all that night
Instead of clutching them
To my heart --
TOD HOWARD HAWKS Feb 2020
Yellow and mauve, weavers and their cottages, harvests and wheat
fields, The Potato Eaters, The Cafe de la Care, Vase with Twelve
Sunflowers, the Yellow House, The Night Cafe, Fishing Boats on
the Beach at Saintes-Maries, The Poet Against a Starry Sky, Gauguin's
Chair, Memory of the Garden of Etten, delusions and hallucinations,
"acute mania with generalised delirium," Theo boarded a night train to
Arles and arrived on Christmas Day, "le fou roux," an ear cut off, an
asylum in Saint-Remy-de-Provence, cypresses and olive trees, Two
Peasant Women Digging in a Snow-covered Field at Sunset, The Sower, Sorrowing Old Man, Dr. Paul Gachet, Wheatfields with Crows,
"melancholy and extreme loneliness," 2,100 art works, 860 oil paintings,
on 27 July 1890, Van Gogh shot himself in the chest with a revolver, according to Theo, Van Gogh's last words were "this sadness will last forever."
A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia University, Tod Howard Hawks has been a poet and human-rights advocate for his entire adult life. He recently finished his novel, A CHILD FOR AMARANTH.

— The End —