Spiralling into unconsciousness I know I brought this exhausting ordeal I feel nothing and everything at once it's like I'm trying to eat while I'm about to lose my lunch


Falling under pressure and avoiding that its to no fault but my own wondering when I finally break from my blindness to others emotions & my deafness to their tone


I've never come down off of a high before but this must be what it's like 

If I wake up, no when I wake up I'll be flatter than the inner tube of a bike but such is life I guess random unconsciousness coupled with stress

Sheila can't settle her mind
to lessons
she sees only
the boy John

in her mind's eye
his words repeat themselves
each time
the teacher speaks

maths
English
double P.E
had to be

got through
until at last
it's lunchtime recess
and she can hope

to find him
on the playing field
after a rushed meal
and she stands

on the edge
of the field looking
out to see if he's there
but she can't see him

and worries that recess
will go and she won't
have seen him
she walks onto the field

and there are kids
everywhere in groups
playing ball games
and sitting here and there

then as she turns
he's there
coming towards her
hands in his pockets

walking across the grass
looking for me?
he asks
she nods and searches

through her mind
for the right words to say
been looking for you
she says

trying to put on
a face of not being
put out
but isn't succeeding

he looks at her
taking in her glasses
and large eyes
and hair pinned back

at one side
with a metal clip
well I'm here now
he says

her name's gone again
he says
what is your name?
Sheila

she says
feeling unsettled
that's it
he says

he looks back at the field
behind him at boys
kicking a ball
Rennie asked me

about a game of football
but I said I was seeing you
John says
what did he say?

she asks
said I need to see a doctor
John says
o

she says
looking at the boy
and wondering if
he wants to be there

with her
do you want to play
ball with him?
she asks

no it can wait
he says
and walks on
and she walks beside him

why doe she say
you need to see a doctor?
she asks
as they walk on

he thinks girls
are a waste of time
beside football
I see

she says
don't worry about Rennie
I want to be here
with you

you do?
sure
I wouldn't be here
otherwise  

o right
she says
let's go sit up
that end near the fence

away from the others
and we can talk
he says
she nods and smiles uneasily

he's is near to her
and his hand
is mere inches from hers
and as much as

she'd like him
to hold her hand
she's frightened
that he might

o what to do
she thinks as they walk
on towards the fence
and sit on the grass

and she feels undone
yet excited
to at last be there
with him

watching him
and taking in
his hazel eyes
and quiff of hair

and glad
she's sitting there.

Hey girl
      *I caught you staring in the mirror again

       The same look of dissatisfaction painted clearly on your face
You look at your stomach and touch your waist
            Turn and look at your back with the same expression
       There may be wear and tear here and there, especially on your spirit, but that's not where you stare
          If you did you might see the most beautiful sight ever beheld by those big brown eyes
   
       See,
    A lot of men would see your thighs and to no surprise, try to get inside
      But I see your mind and what lies behind the obvious
           A question mark most would leave off the end of their sentence
            I could never forget it.
   I see the rocky road you've walked every time that we talk
        The gravel was never gentle on your soul
      But you continued until you came upon a house built from pain
  decided to stay and thought you'd be okay
      It slowly became a home where you grew into the furniture
    Your veins interlaced with fabric and every fabrication only wove you deeper
          And soon the drugs came to take you away only to fade and leave you to a fate stuck between these walls of abuse
     
                    I refuse
To let you go back
And even if you hate me now, I hope one day you'll understand and love me for that
                   See, I see a lot of things because I look past the mirror you fixate on
                    I've never had to see you as just a reflection
           But rather as perfection, because with every wrong direction you took to get to me it made the time we have together that much more meaningful
           And though your spirit may be bruised and tired, it refuses to give up,
It's gorgeous.
         


        
You've never had to see me as a reflection either. Every time you look at me, I'm anew. I'm not what's in a dusty mirror, and I'm not what's in a fading photograph. I'm a steady flame in your heart, and the most beautifully flawed smile I've ever seen. I could never thank you for all those small things you do without noticing. Nothing I write could touch upon the tip of the gratitude I hold in my heart for you. So I guess to come as close as I can in three simple words,

**I love you.

She shyly smiled.

Bespectacled,
with white blouse
and loose fitting tie,
she waited by the wall,
sitting, ankle socks,
black shoes, laced.

John passed with Rennie,
hands in pockets,
talking about Mr S
in P.E and the lengths
the guy'll go
to make his authority felt
and the country run
later that day.

Sheila watched him go.

Her thin wired spectacles
enlarging him
and focusing him
up for her.

She wanted to follow
and ask him if she
could hang out with him,
but she feared rejection
and so sat
and watched instead
until he and Rennie
were on the school
playing field
during recess.

She played
with her fingers,
looked around
the grounds,
watched other girls
pass by, braver,
more confident
than she,
more aware
of their worth
or what they
had to offer.

Wear this,
her mother said,
wear that,
don't sit so,
keep your knees together
in the presence
of boys and men
while sitting.

John, she watched,
on the playing field
with the boy called Rennie,
taking in his walk,
his gesture with hands,
his nod of head
or and how
the quiff of hair,
can drive her
to despair,
and maybe
much beside,
if her mother's dominance
wasn't there
in side

Miss G puts on Chopin
the old record player's
seen better days
one can tell

by the stylus
and the way
Miss G's finger
lifts its down

on the record
I sit at the back
of the class
with a kid named Rennie

Yochana 's at the front
with the blonde girl
-Yochana's dark hair
at shoulder length-

her fingers
pretend playing
on the desktop
her slim body

moving side to side
in the open backed chair
old ***-less thinks
she the pianist

Rennie darkly says
I'm already watching
her hands going cross
in front of her

side to side
and her slim body
captured in my inner
eye and out

and secretly
I blow kisses
at her
when no one's about.

To: Charles Rennie Mackintosh.
Mr.Mustache
By:Yue Xing Yitkbel ****
Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Mackintosh, sir
Under the shades of the Willow Tree
I picked up the flower
Your Pink Rose
A nouveau time, nouveau mean
Lights shines through
The minimal window panes
I see, the marriage, renaissance
The White Rose and the Red one too
Blue, Scottish blues
Now, the pedals broken, they flew
Leaving only
My violet soul

Hey girl
       I caught you staring in the mirror again
       The same look of dissatisfaction painted clearly on your face
You look at your stomach and touch your waist
            Turn and look at your back with the same expression
       There may be wear and tear here and there, especially on your spirit, but that's not where you stare
          If you did you might see the most beautiful sight ever beheld by those big brown eyes
  
       See,
    A lot of men would see your thighs and to no surprise, try to get inside
      But I see your mind and what lies behind the obvious
           A question mark most would leave off the end of their sentence
            I could never forget it.
   I see the rocky road you've walked every time that we talk
        The gravel was never gentle on your soul
      But you continued until you came upon a house built from pain
  decided to stay and thought you'd be okay
      It slowly became a home where you grew into the furniture
    Your veins interlaced with fabric and every fabrication only wove you deeper
          And soon the drugs came to take you away only to fade and leave you to a fate stuck between these walls of abuse
    
                    I refuse
To let you go back
And even if you hate me now, I hope one day you'll understand and love me for that
                   See, I see a lot of things because I look past the mirror you fixate on
                    I've never had to see you as just a reflection
           But rather as perfection, because with every wrong direction you took to get to me it made the time we have together that much more meaningful
           And though your spirit may be bruised and tired, it refuses to give up,
It's gorgeous.
        


        
You've never had to see me as a reflection either. Every time you look at me, I'm anew. I'm not what's in a dusty mirror, and I'm not what's in a fading photograph. I'm a steady flame in your heart, and the most beautifully flawed smile I've ever seen. I could never thank you for all those small things you do without noticing. Nothing I write could touch upon the tip of the gratitude I hold in my heart for you. So I guess to come as close as I can in three simple words,

I love you.

If anyone can make a feral animal print cool it’s Arabella Ramsay. The designer, who skipped the city in favour of the coast a few years ago, has launched a new lifestyle brand in collaboration with her dad Dougal Ramsay, an accomplished artist who has designed ranges affectionately named after all things Aussie; Hello Cocky, G’day Love, Veg Out.

Burnt out from more than a decade in the fashion industry rat race where she had amassed a cult following among adoring 20-somethings and private school girls for her unique apparel, Arabella shut her Melbourne shop five years ago and moved to Jan Juc where her husband has a yoga studio, her daughters play with bunnies and organic eggs are collected from the backyard coop.

Yet the fashion industry has come calling again, albeit in a different guise born of her slower lifestyle and rearing two children. A born and bred farm girl from Kyneton, she has forgone on-trend collections and retail overheads for family-friendly leisurewear and an online boutique.

The print-heavy collection features irreverent Australiana imagery created by her dad: “Bonza” bunnies, cheeky runaway gnomes, larrikin cockatoos, and come summer, a “******” croc print. The coloured sketches run across all-over yardage on leggings, hoodies and T-shirts for men, women and kids.

Dougal says his brief comes from his daughter who then “weaves her magic so the next time I see those drawings they are transformed into cute frocks and tops”.

She has a great eye for pattern and scale. “I enjoy seeing the finished product where a small crab on a skinny leg can grow into a giant monster crab on a rounder leg.”

A successful illustrator and author, Dougal has been fascinated with Australian culture for years, his nostalgic pencil sketching idiosyncratic scenes of country town lifestyles and coastal culture; seedy caravan parks, fishing hamlets and an architectural vernacular that “sadly has pretty well gone now”, he laments.

It was these scenes and Arabella’s own wholesome rural childhood that inspired the father-daughter label. In the spirit of Linda Jackson and Jenny Kee, Arabella wants to “show people the exciting things our country has to offer”, she says of her desire to “celebrate what’s in our back yards and in doing so, tap into the tourist market with a bit of style”.

Manufacturing is done in Australia where possible; a favoured maker is Cheryl, a woman Arabella’s nan found years ago while shopping at Spotlight in Ballarat. “She works from her small shed and has been making my clothes for years. It’s nice having quality control so we don’t overproduce.”

Lighthearted and a little bit kooky, the Dougal range is cultural cringe re-imagined as contemporary cool. Its Instagram (@wearedougal) is a feed of everything from Aussie idioms (Stoked! Strewth!) to summer vacations in Menorca, photography honouring Rennie Ellis, Dougal in the home studio, surf reports and Arabella’s idyllic beach house that has graced the pages of international magazines. Her own sartorial style is an inimitable mix of “70s vintage, preppy, **** and even a bit dorky” that’s equally at ease with the yuppies and the grommets.

“You can basically wear your pyjamas to school pick-ups and your wetsuit to the supermarket,” she says of the local surf town look. “But I still love high fashion and just bought a pink lace Gucci suit for my best friend’s wedding.”

An online purchase, it arrived via the dirt track leading to her secluded beach house. Fair dinkum.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-sydney | www.marieaustralia.com/blue-formal-dresses

Sheila waits
by the school bus
where she'd seen
the boy John

leave that morning
and she thinks
that if she can see him
before he gets on the bus

she might settle
for her mind and heart
how he feels
if he feels about her

other kids are coming out
of the school
some going home on foot
some getting on

to school coaches
or buses
she adjusts
her thin wired spectacles

on the bridge
of her nose
pulls her school tie neater  
and pats her hair to tidy

she focuses
on the entrances
and exits
but still no sign of him

she's nervous
and uncertain
of herself
or her mission

it seems to her
as if the boy
occupies
her whole mind

at that moment
she feels as if
her life is upside down
and she hasn't

even spoken to him yet
just seen him pass by
and he seemed -
she's certain-

to smile at her
she doesn't know
what to do
with her thin hands

she tucks them
into her coat
out of the way
like unsettled children

then she sees him
coming out
of the exit
with a boy

named Rennie
they pause
laugh and talk
and laugh again

then part
and Rennie goes off
his own way
and the boy John

comes towards her
she's unsure
if she can speak to him
she panics

looks at him
he approaches the bus
and she says
can I speak with you?

he stands there
gazing at her
for a moment
sure but it'll

have to be quick
as my bus goes soon
he says
she walks away

a bit from the bus
and he follows
can I hang around
with you?

she utters shyly
hang around?
John says
she flushes red

be your friend?
she says
looking at his
brown hair

with a quiff
and his hazel eyes
peering at her
he studies her

looks at the bus
at her again
what's your name?
he asks

Sheila
she says
he smiles
sure

but we'll have to talk
about it tomorrow
as I must go
he says

and he touches
her hand
then climbs the bus
and walks along

the aisle
and out of sight
on the bus
she stands there

gazing up at the bus
wondering if she'll
see him
but the bus starts up

and drives away
and she looks hopefully
at the bus as it departs
but there is

no sign of him
at the window
so she holds onto
his image

and watches
the bus go.

Benny's the new boy
in class
he sits at the back

with some kid
called Rennie
while the teacher

Miss G
yaks on
about Schubert

or some feller
putting on
some LP

as they sit
and put on
interested faces

the girl who
smiled at him
on the school bus

is there
looking over at him
beaming like

a new sun
her eyes bright
as fresh stars

he looks
at her briefly
then looks away

storing her eyes
for some
other day.

A silencer on an a-bomb
A muzzle on a leviathan
A band aid for the plague
A Rennie for Kracotowa
and a hanky for swine flu
Such are flowers on a grave

Some slutty *****-tramps prefer bearded men while other trulls are
Michael Rennie-partial, like the ******* ****** Penny Marshall

You don't usually find me on the jubilee
but the jubilee is where I am
Sunday
oh man!

This old crank's off to the SouthBank
the preserve of 'Sinners and Saints' which paints a peculiar image.

Hogarth had girth
merriment, mirth
and Paris Gardens too,
****** artists
but
what can you do when you
need them as much as the modern
day scribe relies on a pen?

( not sure if that's true )

Nonsuch
not much
but a palace nevertheless
and thinking of Nonsuch
brings me to Colechurch
the
bridge builder
Rennie the Scottish one ( not the stomach settling one )
and an older time
long before the
jubilee line.

I'm here and now.