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Star Gazer Apr 2016
A Chinese girl in a sweatshop
Constantly working non stop
As news of a ball comes around
And it's happening in town.

She tells her employers
'Let me go, or I'll call a lawyer',
All said and spoken in Chinese
from the girl who loved trees.

She loved nature from all angles
Even the vines that did tangled
She smiled at any hint of fresh air
And believes it's best to be fair.

Her employers responded 'no-
that she was not allowed to go'
And she wished to see the world
And have her straight hair curled.

She sneaked out the back exit
And gave herself some credit
'You can do this, you are strong
And you won't be out long'.

Along the way to the fancy ball,
As she ran across the town hall,
A woman caught a glimpse of her
And somehow the strange did occur.

The woman gave the girl new clothes,
From a clothing shop that had closed,
Dressed her in pretty pink shoes
That seemed like new news

After dressing up she ran for the ball,
And she knew the fun won't be small,
So as she arrives, through the doors
She realised no one who seemed poor.

It was a party, and a party needed alcohol
To soothe the boredom that settled in her soul,
So amidst her drunken charade
A man appeared before her eyes like a mirage.

Her eyes while blinking met his eyes
And suddenly she was no longer shy,
She spoke eloquently of her adventures
And how she met professors with tenure.

They conversed and he found himself
Placing her laugh on a metaphorical shelf
Doing all that he could to make her laugh
But their time was cut in half.

She had to leave and make her way back to work,
So with a gentle wave and a 'goodbye' filled with quirk
She ran for the exit dropping the sweatshop business card
and he still pursued to chase her despite the facade.

He arrived at the address on the business card
While keeping his suit clean was very hard,
He ventured on to find the perfect girl
Who made his heart race and twirl.

He ran around looking for her
But it never did occur
that there were five others who wanted him
so his chances were quite dim.

The first girl clearly had different hair
The second girl was in a wheelchair
The third girl had a different skin tone
And the fourth girl was no meat, all bone.

The fifth girl however, just kept a pretty smile
And although he only saw her for a while
He could tell she was not the one
That left before the night was gone.

When suddenly birds chirping in the distant
Being completely resistant
Against the heavy metal door
And he knew it for sure.

There she was, walking through the metal door
As beautiful as she had looked the night before.
He looked at her, and asked her out
She was shocked and surprised she barely let out a shout.

She found her happiness in him,
And their time spent weren't grim,
For he understood her quite well
And lived life in complete swell.
Faking Bad

In anticipation of my
Evaluation to be declared
Non Compos Mentos
I slept under a bridge
For three days
"Getting into character,"

But on the morning of
My intake interview
My hair fell perfectly,
I mean I looked like
A ******* rock star.
College girls on the bus
Were giving me their
Numbers and my skin,
Which I'd purposely sunburnt
And caked in the finest filth,
Glowed like an Australian
Chippendale dancer named Weegie
And even the female Assisstant D.A.
Who had busted me for vagrancy
Waved her ******* from
The third story building
Of the Courthouse.

No matter how much I
Tried to speak gibberish
Poetry and philosophical
Tracts spewed from my mouth.

Shuffling past the park
I beat eight
Grand Masters
At chess on move 1

Inadvertently I solved
The Phi Epsilom Theorem
By kicking stones
Into an algorythym.

When I arrived they didn't
Make me wait at all.

My caseworker giggled like
A schoolgirl while I told her
Each day was like an endless shift
In a Chinese fish- gutting
Sweatshop and every one of my fellow
Employees was motivationalist
Richard Simmons.
She ungirdled her enormous
**** and as they spilled
Like fishguts onto the desk
She began to howl
"**** me, **** me, oh ****
Me right here in
Front of the open window
On State Street as everyone
Watches me ******* the strongest,
Healthiest, smartest, most popular,
Well-adjusted man in the world.

The rest of the examination was
Also a success.
But as I left the Mental HealthCenter
feeling marvelous
I accidentally bumped
An old woman with the door:
"Watch out you manic-depressive
Schizoid with Socially Avoidant
Features klutz."
-Thomas L. Vaultonburg
Poem from Outsider Poetry Magazine http://outsiderpoetrymagazine.blogspot.com/
My fingers bleed.
Back hurts.
Breathe fumes.
Never sleep.

I can't be a mother.
A child.
The breadwinner.
A human.

I make 13 cents.
Every hour.
Everyday.
For what?

I'man exploit.
A worker.
Mental.
Broken.

I've been hit,
Broken down,
Touched.
*****.

They steal from me.
My hope.
Education.
My life.

I can't eat.
I can't sleep.
Get back to work.
Or get lost.
Randi B Feb 2012
the urban ecosystem
breeds the urban beast;
the two-legged feral brute

they board their clockwork motorcages
the young ones in predatious packs
the old, too weathered to care
animal autonomy
born from sweatshop routines

i imagine myself
as a metropolitan jane goodall
observing and assimilating
taking note of the cacophony of
hoots and and hollers
the city-born mating calls
the high-topped courtship dances
******* civility born from enslaved mindsets

a young, dark-skinned boy
let's rhyme flow freeformed
to the rhythm of a young girls dancing feet
stomps and claps excite the celebration
of abandoned social etiquette
and of my foreign presence

i resemble some exotic missing link
a mix of this, that and the other
my skin, a rare quilt
and this draws more attention
than a gold-dusted african queen

i place myself in the back
peering through the windows of this transit jungle
feeling my heart skip beats
boom...boom...shhhh...
i must've left my rhythm in my other heritage
because i can't catch the ancient flow
but my neck leads my head in bobs

my brain rattles with old soul memories
and i see these young folks on the train
held back by centuries of black struggle
but forever rejoicing in african pulse
forever embodying our ancestoral pride

and i think, how peculiar
on the outside looking in like a fishbowl
exiled from my own brown-skinned tribe
with my oppression fitted like a glove
my blackness a mere disguise
my blackness camouflage
my blackness
not quite
black
enough
Do people ever truly lose there mind or were they always ******* bat **** to begin with?
I believe half this earth is run by insane people most of which have way to much power and far to little sense .

The ******* radio is a great example ever listen modern music ?
You know that **** that doesn't require any talent to preform just a record player and some half wit to rap along with so you can have a remix yes country music is vile enough let alone throw in a nerd that would **** if he got his thirty thousand dollar sneakers ***** once are made in some sweatshop for ten cents a pop yeah how ******* fashionable .

And remember when you had to play a ******* instrument to have a record out?
Yeah I'm so old fashioned I mean sure kids wear all the  shirts to half the bands I grew up with and have no ******* clue who the bands are but yes the world is stupid and you wonder why I drink.

Just like people who believe the world really gives a **** there having a bad day # who gives a **** Twitter is for stupid ***** and celebrities who have as  much depth as a public toilet but are far less clean.

People always read me and believe I am this nice easy going goofy drunken ******* who only lives to make them laugh and talk about ******* well who doesn't like ******* there awesome.

Hey Gonz do you like kids ?
No I don't !
Why ?
Cause they always annoy the **** out of me when I'm trying to sleep off a good ****** in the park really whatever happened to letting the TV raise them hey I look at me I didn't turn out so.
Umm well okay so I'm a little ****** up .

Hey do you ever get tired of being funny or find it hard to come up with new things to pick on?
Well just watch the evening news for a second and head down to the local bar or that gate of hell Wal-Mart and look at all those ******'s who believe they have to buy **** just cause its on sale yeah sure why not buy two hundred rolls of toilet paper  cause you never know when the world may end and the zombie apocalypse will begin .

Newsflash when the world does cease to exist you probably will to and when your starving to death or being burned alive I really doubt that wiping your *** is going to be your top priority .

And we already live amongst zombies   there called yuppies and those I phone twitter loving instagram ******* are ******* everywhere and driving while doing all this **** so pick your head up and watch out!!!

I recently was on a little road trip and while in Evansville Indiana as me and my head cheerleader were riding around the city late at night we were ran into by a young and brainless little **** who admitted she was texting and driving and as I sat there waiting for officer fat **** to arrive to give this cyber **** a ticket .

Yes Indiana it's slogan should be hey are you ******* lost?
Yeah I know I'm a real people person .

Anyways as I sat there viewing what looked like babe Ruth in a bullet proof vest hand out a ticket as he sweat out gravy I had to question with  fifty lares of flesh for padding was there really a need for the vest?

They say when you go insane it's hard to truly rejoin society .
But honestly after looking at half the strung out loony toon's that are considered normal why the **** would you ever care to be part of there brain dead **** storm ?

And since when did the news care what was popular on ******* You tube?

Todays top stories the worlds on the verge of self destruction, A man kidnapped a child ***** her for several years has five kids with her but later on that right now let's check out this cute cat video.
yes the worlds obsessed with ***** .
And you thought it was just me.

And why do teachers now all **** there students and where were these horney ******* when I was going to school.
Yeah having to settle for a ******* from the janitor just wasn't the same.
Although he did have a fantastic grip I'm kidding.

And why  do people even own TV's duh cause books are to much like work but hey remember to buy mine cause it has  plenty of pictures  yeah what isn't poetic about ****?

Yes I can imagine what the great writers from the past would think of the new bestsellers.

Who doesn't like books about gay *** wizards and **** vampires that glimmer in the light yeah I didn't read it duh I saw the movie *******
yeah you may laugh but whatever got my sixteen year old girlfriend in the mood was alright by me I'm  kidding again she was twenty one at the time least that's what her fake Id said.

Yeah least I'm not as bad as Micheal Jackson  cause I'm actually alive that is duh.
Yeah he didn't have issues he just a ******* amusement park in his back yard .
Me I'd prefer a ******* or maybe a mall yeah don't ask.

Common sense nowadays it makes people laugh and the key to humor is always truth people are all ****** up hell just look at me I'm truly insane I own my own bar I get paid to write I do stand up for free drinks but honestly would you really want me doing anything else?

Attention this is your captain speaking umm look I really  don't know how to put this but I forgot to gas up before we left so looks like were all going to die as we crash into the earth and burn to death.
Yeah my bad .

But hey I want to thank you all for flying delta and please remember the do not smoking light is on yeah sure your probably going to be busted into a million pieces but heaven forbid the ***** next to you catches a whiff of smoke before he dies.

Loosen the **** up cause your not going to live forever  .
People are so uptight afraid to say **** or disagree with each other cause we all need to think alike like a bunch of ******* lemmings.

I grew up around backwoods rednecks I lived in the city slept in the ******* street okay there's no difference in people except real ******* people aren't scared to **** others off they are who they are and if you like them great and if you don't then ******* life's to dam short to sweat the ******* and this high school mentality needs to truly get ****** the worlds messed up so embrace it .

Like me, Hate me at least you never have to guess what I really think .

Stay crazy kids cause the normal ***** of this life are usually  total closet freaks who **** hookers on the side and make bombs in grandmas kitchen .

It's a shame cause a good ****** is a terrible a terrible thing to waste.

Well hamsters until next time this has been your bartender for life with your friendly perverted public service announcement we now return you to your regular scheduled program right smack in the middle so you wont know what the **** happened cause we can nah nah.

And if I somehow offended you please fell free to write to.

Gonzo's complaint department in care  of .
105 It's called a ******* joke way .

Cheers Gonzo
The reviews were in and as usal all were pretty much what I expected .
the crittics were so dam hurtful course what do you expect from a teenage windbag
who cant take a **** without posting on twitter how terrible life is.

But much like the **** on his hundred dollar sneaker's made in a sweatshop
by someone who makes ten cents a day .
There words much like there sad little yuppie cast life's  seldom amounted
to a pimple on the worlds ***.

What kind of tormented hampster take's glee in cussing out
a semi insane  carear criminal with a rap sheet that reads longer
than one of thoose Harry Potter books.

Being a man  of  much free time and plenty of found cash.
I decided to vist a crittic of mine.
And what better place to vist than a sunny state with not enough brains
to convict a woman who kills her own kid yes that true think tank
of complete dipshits Florida.

As  my plane touched I down payed close attention to my target I mean crittic.
It seemed he was versed in many hobies a few including.
Taking pictures of himself and his homies with there shirts off
wow no wonder this hampster was viewed so much by older gentlemen who run the site.

He also liked tiedie shirts and beer well honestly who doesnt the beer I mean.
Unless your a steriod fed pro wrestler or ***** hippie who wears that **** when there sober?

The name much like most things I could give a **** about seldom stayed with me.
Cause much like the hampster im writting about  honestly was as about as forgetable
as that night I spent with his mom ohhhh snap.

He was in a cult and it was a cult that had millions of followers
the cult of the yuppie spoiled ******* for which he was the states chapter president.
hey what can I say he was a good worker course that's what the guy bathroom
that used to be a politcian said dam you Sonny Bono  why  did you ever break
up Peaches and Herb!

But enough with the foreplay children.
It was bright as hell outside warm and annoying with all the people on the ******* sidewalk
Jesus man take the wheel im trying to mix a drink.

After some brief sidetracks what?
I figure why not   **** on a place thats biggest mark is hurricanes and ******* conventions
oh yeah and people who cant convict people who ****** good thing cause this vist was gonna be a breeze.

I stood at the door that stood at the gate that stood befor me and stood befor
my verbal punching bag locked in his yupie fortress.
Yes sir are you expected  the guard asked me.

Honestly no sir I wasnt but thats what happens when  a loose woman make's bad choices.
As usal like in the cases of most people that come from that clan we call normal.
he just looked at his list and prayed I would leave.

Sir Im gonna have to ask you to leave.
I knew this man's logic but seldom do I let sense and reason get in the way of a good
time or a Gonzo on a mission to payback a Yuppie ***** who much like his work
I often forget.
But hey look on the bright side when ya run outta toilet paper you always have
something to wipe your **** with.


The man kept asking yet like most people I simply ignored
his pleas.
Let me ask you sir what did the face say to the floor?
The man paused thought and as the tasser bit into his neck
and as his body went as limp as the states thought process
i kinda had to feel bad as he hit the pavement with a thud.

Im kidding I like I care?
Past the point of no return and little reason I was yet at the main door.
Were little now what was his name hmmmm  oh yeah young ***** Bagginns
called home.

Why you should have seen the suprize in his eye's
when he looked up from his coloring book to see his favorite
person to talk ***** about.

Or herd the screams   as his little **** was thrown into the wood chipper
hmm oddly enough red really wasnt his color.
Im kidding I didnt **** him right away hell that would take all the fun out of are little get togather.

And besides i bought all this kickass stuff at the hardwear store.
He kicked and cried.
For the love of facebook and texting i didnt mean it im sorry!
I was deaf to his cries for hours the torture went on.

And  just when he had hit the point of total agony I did the most cruel act of them all.
Well my friend time for a little TV.
What how the ***** that torture you idiot ?
Seems this little hampster still had some fight in him.

I pressed play and what appeared apon the screen was a horror so cruel it pains my long winded **** to
write it well maybe not.
Justin Bieber appeared on the screen.
Hey guess what ***** Ive set it on loop.

From the top of his lungs he screamed like a young school girl who fell victem to this
Pagan God.
Nooooooooo anything but that.

As I made my exit from his lare slash basement he somehow managed to muster all his yupie strength
breking his bonds a bolted like a yuppie cheatah he was to fast he had reached the shotgun befor
I knew dear lord! this was it I was gone for sure.

I cant take it anymore!
The sound was beyond words.
The celling was covered in yuppie sludge.
I felt myself was I dead?
Hey they got all the channels on this satelite kickass.
As I sat lost in my private time i had to wonder was it wrong
to target little spoiled shites that bully others and shouldnt we just try to reach out and understand one another?

Yeah ***** that what am I Dr Phil?
I have to admit young ***** really was cool now he lay dead on the floor and you seem so more open minded.

Course being it's blown  off it seems to help.
I laughed I cried I ordered like five hundren dollars in adult films on young ****** satilite.
Hey I was celebrating his life and staining his couch.
You cant put a price on revenge duh.

And as i bolted from that State dumping the corpse in the Everglades.
I had to wonder what drives a young ******* to cross a old drunk hampster
like myself ?  

Well like I was really conserned I was way to buzy enjoying the gators rip the
young no talent **** to shreds.

Note to crttics get a life and avoid me or I might be making a road trip to a city
near you!
Yes someones gonna get hurt and it's not gonna be me.

Stay crazy hampsters
Dedicated to a certain little hampster who belives cussing people out is being a crittic.
Heres the thing if you dont like me then dont read me.
SMP Nov 2012
Its crochet dumb ****.

...
Though with mild guilt I must attempt to say, they are for a good friend,
A true one,
Who lets me treat her bad and calls me the best,
And I'd do so many things for,
To make up for all my messes

...
So I didn't buy seven dollar made by a broken sweatshop woman gloves,
I went out for yarn and made my own,
Cursing and spitting all the way,
Because hey, friendship is cool,
And I'll punch you if you look at her wrong.
The broken lady doesnt know enough about her to do that.
Emmmmer
I am a caricature of humanity
- a picture of its seething bowels.

I am its sloshing,
quivering, yet wholly earnest intestines
made manifest - I am,
the inside-out freak show
we all crave
dancing before your eyes
oh, and what a feast of eloquent gizzards you witness!

Feast your eyes, my friends!

I am what you wish you weren't
yet know you could be
as you yearn to be as free as me
all your shame and volatile desires
all your sadness and madness
all your dreamful bliss
I profess it daily
in an ode to you, my fathers and mothers,
in an ode of love for absurdity,
I am the cartoon character made free of its stage
the puppet made free of its strings
the loon, made free of his rage,
a benign insanity,
not capable of harming a germ.

Don't pass by
by all means
gawk
it's my pleasure that you do so
breathe my callousness in
shudder at the thought of being so exposed
having all your human nature bleeding there
like my crying eyes
as I tell you of all my past loves
and how I still love them
yes
even the meatloaf
still eating it
that baby towel
still snuggling it
that algebra homework?
Still completing it
and there's a missing grade somewhere
in a dusty book in a warehouse
imagine
how I'd creep in,
decades from now,
hours before my death,
open that tattered grade-book,
pen myself an A+ for my immaculately completed work
- fist pump the air!
Take that Ms. Cramsworth! I may not have beaten algebra,
but I beat you!

Die right there
in that warehouse
amongst all the other freaks.
There's Bigfoot, who slipped accidentally one day, got impaled by a branch, then called 911 - he had no health insurance, that's all she wrote. Bigfoot's just another disenfranchised-American statistic now. Bigfoot's last painful hours were spent taking selfies with holocaust deniers and people fashioning MAGA hats - some with rifles for effect - it was then Bigfoot regretted voting for Trump and only then. You were just rudely-awakened from having sympathy for Bigfoot, weren't you? Poor baby. Save our souls.
Then there are the cryogenically frozen heads of the Illuminati we're all worried about - they're trying to sleep until humanity can make them superhuman bodies.
A flying saucer that was alien in so far that it was actually a time-machine from our distant future that brought people back to warn us of an all-consuming genocidal calamity, but they spoke a language we didn't understand, had genetically surpassed us, and therefore were unrecognizable to our labs, and we took their highly-advanced babbling as acts of war when they tried to **** the Illuminati heads - killed the so-called aliens then, so tragic - ate their gizzards for research. Now we're all doomed to die... Their bodies were lain next to the Illuminati heads. Centuries later, the same couple, now janitors from the freak warehouse, see themselves, find the time-machine-saucer, and start the time-loop again... inadvertently causing the end of humanity because they messed up the timeline.

... and that's exactly why I never did my homework.
Humanity is doomed to die in some distant future caused by the doom-couple and so I refused to put a brick in the wall. I refused because all I was was a...nother brick in the wall and I hated it.

Because as fascinating as I am.
As absurd as I am.
As much of a human marvel as I am.
I don't matter. I matter the least.

And so that's why I had to die in that off-the-books warehouse,
full of priceless and unmentionable artifacts.
They wouldn't ever put me there, but I had to die with the legends.
I had to give my life meaning somehow.
If I can't live a legend, I will die one... by the way the janitors put me in the trash out back anyway.
I end up in an east-Asian landfill somewhere, kicked in the face by barefoot sweatshop kids who just so happened to make the sneakers on my very feet. Isn't that poetic justice? What a send-off!

And so isn't that all a satisfying and cathartic end,
giving closure to the most absurd poem,
with the most random details,
wasn't that fun?
Just have to bust out a mad-****** like this every once in a while.
Seems an important part of my writing process and growth, LOL.

Enjoy!
-DEW

Find me on Twitter @TheGreatWilson where I write most often these days :)
Come say hi!
Anon Mar 2014
look at my new j’s
a nike sweatshop worker
    get’s paid 20 cents
Tori Jurdanus Feb 2013
I've been told my whole life that my life is easy.
I don't disagree. I have a house and a bed and free education, I'm not hungry.
But I've never thought that these are things to be held against me.

As far as I can tell, I've never done this before, I did not choose the way of life where the problems on this earth barely reach me. The questions left behind today, the ones we only now seem to have the power to fix, they're not my fault. If I could, I wouldn't have chose this kind of guilt-tripping, doom-impending "easy".

Things used to be better, so I'm told.
Family's used to stay together, so I'm told.
There were still things left to discover, so I'm told.
Men kept their word, women were more respectable, there were still things left to fight for.
As if we have left nothing to worry about anymore.

We have new age problems that started with your first engine.
Your first lightbulb.
Your first sweatshop.
Your first cellphone.

We are left fighting for balance between an undeniable human nature and nature itself, dwindling.

This isn't the age of sin, it's the age of freedom,

Where you feel the need to point out that too much of a good thing can single handedly destroy the world. You should know.

And we are not taking things easy, We are not lying down easy,
We are working.
Things are different now but we are working.
Trying to tell ourselves: Its not our fault
Danger, is just a household game for children.

Normal is no longer a house hold name.
Everything is so ******* up these days.

But we are working

to think everything through before we go ahead and do whatever might be a temporary fix to the mess that was made.

A mess you created, and no I'm not ungrateful 'cause you only ever did what you thought was best for us, to make life easier for us. You worked hard and lived hard and everything was hard, at least that's what you tell me. And God, I hope it's true.
Because that's the only way I can wrap my brain around the thought forgiving you.

I don't believe you never saw this coming. Unless,
Were you simply working too hard for a brighter future, a world for your children and their children and their children to live life easier to stop and wonder what might happen if?  

This is not the dying world I would want to bring a baby into.
I wouldn't want my child's life to be that kind of condemning easy, lazy
I'd want it to be simple and stress free.  
But never easy.
Laura Olson Sep 2010
Our America sulks in the gutters,

   in the rotten alleyways of those living in the shadows.

As corporations, as greed, as self-obsession

damages our life web.

Our America loves the lonely dying child,

as suburban 'mother's **** the illegal pool boy.

Our America peers through holey, worn fabrics

as bare-fleshed youth slaughter for

sweatshop brands.

Our America becomes the past

                     becomes unknown

                     becomes a dead fad

as mysterious men lure the idea of a future.
MINE!
Joe Satkowski Jul 2014
Entrapment
Infringement

Produce it like they would in a sweatshop
Cut you knuckles open and rub them in salt

Stand up
and watch it take hold
Dan Feb 2019
I saw the best minds of my generation
Brutally isolated from those around them
Surrounded by series of boxes
Some meant to relay
Some meant to contain
All passively made to control

And past all of these boxes we can see
The place where the grass is greener
Where the trees are taller and stronger
Where the animals live
We call that place wilderness
Some say we used to call it home
Some others say that when we did
Life was nasty
Brutish
Short
Well
Many of these days I would prefer that to
Long
Meaningless
Alienated
But it really depends on ones perspective

See the problem with Civilization is that somewhere down the line someone has to take the full force of the trauma
Whether that’s indigenous people
Robbed of their land
Forced to work in Rare Earth Mineral mines
Or sweatshop factories in foreign countries
Or Facebook content moderators in Arizona
Forced to be subjected to violent murders and graphic *******
Their bathroom breaks are monitored
They are ordered to stop praying if it takes too long
All so your racist uncle can share news articles from PatriotPress.com
And people who haven’t interacted with you in years can wish you a happy birthday
This is the price we pay for our convenience
This is the passive acceptance that our comfort is more valuable than their lives
I heard that the first megamachine was made with human parts
Now we witness that machine cannibalize itself

What is the alternative to this concrete techno-Hell?
I hope that one day we cast off this Leviathan whose tentacles wrap around our necks
To live a life of lower standards but higher meanings and ambitions
To live simply
With nature and not at its expense
It’s not a past to return to
But a future we fight for
Where the grass will be greener
But only because
We let it grow
Zulu Samperfas Nov 2012
Went to film school, want to be a filmmaker still
My dream unfulfilled, but still unfolding
I look at what used to inspire me: magazine articles about
the great directors.  always male. even today.  I used to want
to be the female version.  Not anymore

The New Yorker has a piece on one
Describes the process: a demanding scene where
Julia Roberts walks down a street and then gives a LOOK
This is not drama.  drama is conflict.  the new yorker doesn't know this
describes the making of "art" as the shot is repeated with different LOOKS
It's all taken so seriously: a large photo of the ARTIST on the facing page
He has four o-clock shadow times a few days.  this is the look of a filmmaker
you will see it in the second half of the semester at any film school
and he looks worried, intense, confused...gassy?  artists are never happy
is life a pretty picture?  the artist knows this and cannot, will not smile

Later, "the Brille Building," in New York.  wow.  a building with a name no less
a building where many films are edited, have been edited over the years.  
a sweatshop for editors of picture and sound, and a place for the director
to continue, now out of the shadow of the STAR

He's using a lot of profanity now. Just because he's an old white geek don't think
for a minute he ain't kool, he ain't street.
Actually, go ahead and keep thinking that, because you're right
Amazingly enough, he, from his heights of artistry, is slumming it with take-out
Oh, the dedication.  Oh, the fear of ever leaving the building and being reminded
there is a whole world outside that doesn't care about you

His brother is the editor (no, don't say there is nepotism in this business, it's your imagination)
They review the shots of THE LOOK
There are many takes and now, this director who adapted someone else's novel
to the screen now claims, he wrote it.  Really.  It is all his.  

Yes I still love making films but I've never loved the biz
And as I get older, the more I think that real artists don't get written up
in the New Yorker with such verve because they'd think it was just too silly
judy smith Feb 2017
Leading fashion stylists and casting directors have been directed by clients to avoid doing business with Trump Models, a company that promotes itself as “the brainstorm and vision of owner, Donald Trump”, several sources have told the Guardian.

Trump Models refused to comment, but according to its Twitter feed several models had made it on to the catwalk. News of such directives comes during New York fashion week, days after the president used Twitter to condemn the retailer Nordstrom for dropping his daughter Ivanka’s clothing brand, claiming poor sales.

According to one leading casting director who spoke to the Guardian on condition of anonymity, directives to avoid using models represented by Trump Modelsbegan last fall, before the presidential election. They then spread by “word of mouth”, the casting director said.

The effectiveness of any de facto boycott is hard to gauge. Trump Models, founded in 1999, is not considered a big player in the fashion business.

“It’s not a great agency, so it’s not such a big loss,” said the casting director, who was not authorised to speak on behalf of their client.

A French fashion stylist, who also requested anonymity, said she was reluctant to engage with a business that would put money in the pocket of the Trump family. When asked if they would use Trump models during fashion week, she replied simply: “Nooo!”

“People certainly look twice if a Trump model comes for a casting,” said another leading American stylist. “But a boycott wouldn’t necessarily be a big loss to the business.”

A third stylist, a prolific veteran in the industry, said he hoped there was a boycott on the Trump agency but added that “if there was a girl I wanted, I wouldn’t mind if she was represented by Attila the ***”.

On Thursday, the fashion website Refinery 29 reported that hairstylist Tim Aylward had vowed to stop working on jobs that involved “talent” from Trump Models.

Trump Models once represented first lady Melania Trump, and currently represents dozens of models from all over the world. It also runs a division for “legends”, including Paris Hilton and Carol Alt.

The agency, which claims to be at “the forefront of cultivating a wide range of innovative and vibrant talent which personify the trends of the fashion industry”, has faced claims of mismanagement.

Last year, Canadian model Rachel Blais told CNN some managers at the agency had encouraged her to skirt US visa laws. “As a model, one of the things you learn quite quickly is that … you shouldn’t ask too many questions,” Blais said. “If you want to work, you have to do as you’re told. Yet you’re kind of aware that it’s not legal.”

Last year, Canadian model Rachel Blais told CNN some managers at the agency had encouraged her to skirt US visa laws. “As a model, one of the things you learn quite quickly is that … you shouldn’t ask too many questions,” Blais said. “If you want to work, you have to do as you’re told. Yet you’re kind of aware that it’s not legal.”

Blais was also one of four women who described their experience with Trump Models to Mother Jones. The women said they were forced to live in squalor in a crowded apartment in the East Village of New York City.

The women said the apartment contained multiple bunks, for which models paid $1,600 each, and housed up to 11 people at a time. “We’re herded into these small spaces,” one former model said, saying the apartment “was like a sweatshop”.

The then vice presidential candidate Mike Pence told CNN he was “very confident that this business, like the other Trump businesses, has conformed to the laws of this country”.

In court papers filed in 2014, Trump model Alexia Palmer said she was promised full-time work and $75,000 a year. She sued after earning just $3,880 and some modest cash advances for 21 days of work over three years.

“That’s what slavery people do,” Palmer told ABC News in March 2016. “You work and don’t get no money.”

Trump attorney Alan Garten said allegations of being treated like a slave were “completely untrue” and said Palmer had simply not been in demand. The suit was dismissed. Laurence Rosen, a lawyer who represented Trump Models in the case, told the Guardian his firm “is not handling any other lawsuits or claims concerning model representation, nor am I aware that any such lawsuits or claims have been asserted” against Trump Models.

Shannon Coulter, of the Trump boycott movement #grabyourwallet, said Trump Models had not been added to its list of Trump-owned or affiliated businesses because it was not a consumer-facing business.

“What we’re seeing is that the Trump name is becoming truly toxic,” she said. “It seems that people can’t get away from the Trumps fast enough now. I think those casting directors and stylists are making the right call not doing business with them.”

Coulter rejected the suggestion that a boycott of Trump Models might end up hurting the working models it represents, rather than the owners of the business.

“When you chose not to do business with a company,” she said, “you chose to do business with other companies that do have employees, too, so I don’t put stock in that.”

Amid continued questions about Trump’s relationship with his business empire and how it fits with federal ethics regulations, Trump-owned fashion interests have suffered adverse publicity.

On Saturday, retailers Sears and Kmart removed 31 Trump Home items from their online product offerings to focus on more profitable items, a spokesman said. The collection includes furniture, lighting, bedding, mirrors and chandeliers.

Last week, retailer Nordstrom followed Macy’s and Neiman Marcus in dropping Ivanka Trump products. That prompted a furious response from Trump, whotweeted: “My daughter Ivanka has been treated so unfairly by @Nordstrom.”

Nordstrom justified its decision, reporting that online sales of Ivanka Trump products fell 26% in January year on year.

Within the fashion industry, there is speculation that while the performance of Ivanka Trump’s line was disappointing, it was not enough to merit being abruptly dropped.

At least part of the reasoning, they speculate, was pressure from other brands and labels carried by Nordstrom.

“We would not base a decision on that. Our decision was based on the performance of her brand which had been steadily declining over the year. We had discussions with Ivanka and her team and shared our decision with Ivanka personally in early January.”

However, Coulter said it was likely Nordstrom had faced pressure from other suppliers. “The Ivanka Trump sales were down but it’s possibly not the whole truth. There are studies that say boycotts work at the brand level, not the sales level, so probably both forces were at play.”

White House counselor Kellyanne Conway later urged the public to buy the Ivanka Trump brand – and faced widespread criticism that she had overstepped ethics regulations. The White House press secretary, Sean Spicer, said Conway had been “counseled”.

On Saturday, Trump said on Twitter that the media had “abused” his daughter.

In New York, protests against the Trump presidency have rippled through the fashion industry’s market week. Calvin Klein played David Bowie’s This is Not America and a Mexican immigrant designer for LRS Studio showed underwear that carried the message: “**** your wall”. Public School’s Dao-Yi Chow and Maxwell Osborne sent out red Trump-esque baseball hats spelling out: “Make America New York.”

Senior industry figures, including Vogue’s Anna Wintour and LVMH chief executive Bernard Arnault, have, however, held meetings with the president. Vogue plans to feature Melania Trump on its cover.

Designers including Dior and Ralph Lauren have dressed the first lady. Others, including Marc Jacobs, have said they will not.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com | www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses
Unlife Jul 2011
Once upon a time in a land like ours
A disarmed people under axes of powers
Beyond their reach, sole promised extent of a vote
Through haze made of gun smoke,
Muzzle flash fireworks
New meaning to a new hurt
A new God for a new Church.
Ring in the new year; let the bomb drop before the
Brow of the Lao in a sweatshop,
Blue parade of pockets and stomachs made full
An army of sheep by an army of bulls.
Natasha Trullia Dec 2014
i.
eating chocolate-chip fudge cake
heart racing pounding
surrounded with flesh
suffocated, constricted, fighting,
living
for guilty pleasures yearning
digestive juices to action
there is purpose, conviction
the food eaten, none
calories wasted heat not raised
such first world problems, is control

ii.
guilty pleasures
a woman walks up to you
her body for sale
she asks for a chance
to take your money
you quoth bill, she accepts
judgment, opinion, cravings,
the touch sweat confuses for
not loving back
you’re still lost
not having a girlfriend anyway
curb, not succumb to such drive
you’re not forgiven the lonelyness
copying the rest of us and marketing

iii.
relative definitions for everything
no one agrees disagrees
trikha tomia stalemate
money, living, dignity,
your sweatshop is not mine
the immigrants need new life
in the sweat shop they work
for pre-school
there is dignity no dignity yes
but also a body for sale
or a fat man eating his cake
A Thomas Hawkins Aug 2010
Let us find again the beauty in simple things
not just in designer labels and diamond rings
for the worth of what we crave
should not be drawn from sweatshop slave
Let us find again the beauty in simple things

Let us see things once again just like a child
In the days when we'd go out and explore the wild
Building tree forts in the woods
cops and robbers, robin hoods
Let us see things once again just like a child

Let our innocence and trusting be our strength
not something that gets drummed out of us at length
lets not live our lives in fear
of dangers far away from here
Let our innocence and trusting be our strength

Let us open up our hearts without reserve
and let someone in without trying to conserve
let us love just once again
like we'd never know pain
Let us open up our hearts without reserve

Let us die without one outstanding wish
live our lives with nets always full of fish
lives with bounty all around
all friends and loved ones have we found
Let us die without one outstanding wish
I went to a sanctuary today:
The remnants of a dammed river
Called Tanyard Creek.
Life was vibrant and flourishing,
Glowing with green and streaming sun,
Cascading falls and clear pools.
I even befriended a turtle;
It was all very lovely, I assure you.

Yet, this used to be a river
Before Man built that dam,
And it must have flowed for miles --
****** and untarnished --
Before Man built that dam.

I'm reminded once I reach the other end
Where it flows under an overpass
That this all is simply allowed to exist:
Someone owns this.
Someone can trample all of this.
This fledgling remain of something ancient.

This is the fate of the entire world:
It all has a price tag.
It can all become a parking lot,
An oilfield,
A sweatshop,
A mall,
And if this system goes unchecked:
This paradigm of infinite consumption.
Then that is where we will one day be,
With backyards that need to be genetically-engineered to survive.
Where every animal is exotic and rare.
Where New York is underwater.
While we lie in gas-heated homes,
Huddled away from the decaying world,
As we chase away the fear
That it is far too late,
That these wounds are fatal,
And that we let our greed and indifference
Ruin the world that gave birth to us.
Harry J Baxter Oct 2013
Get loud for Christ's sake
shake the walls
vibrate
black out red
we killed twelve Pakistani innocents with unmanned drones
and this silence is getting under my skin
there's a disturbing lack of politicians hanging from flagpoles across the country
no I didn't hear the new Q94 top tracks
and say yoloswag one more time,
I dare you,
you can find your teeth in the back of your throat
burn polo and nike to the ground
turn the CEO's over to the sweatshop workers
this quiet will **** us
but until it does
I'm off hunting
so don't find yourself on the wrong side of my iron sights
thin the herd until we near extinction
righteous fire is cleansing
and we will rebuild from the mountain of corrupted ashes
impotent rage is a trait of the youth
and I'm young enough to pop
if these airwaves stay dead for much longer
a little angry this morning. Blame the coffee or something. Happy Halloween kids
Sethnicity May 2015
What's uut man?

My snake tipped legs and iceberg froze fade languish in the shade. Tell a mother how her bush should bloom, Gathered all the rose peddles and released them to the desert air, when I rise Pillsbury dew drops tip tap clatter back. I already know what love is. Hearts tide to a string. You can call me Duncan. They call me South of no North. My gift of gab was extrapolated from Teddy Ruxpin's jugular and drug through a Chinese sweatshop. I hung my cords out on the line. They hardened into a sharp blade used for doe hunting. Try ice skating uphill while not breaking a sweat. Pull the plug from the speaker steal the mic and jet. Will mount Olympus faction my fold? Nevermore, well maybe once but I'm so straight and narrow their knees are like maze portals to me. Take a swig from the medication station. Don't stay to long or you may like what you have become too me. No worries; Uutt, oh it's magic.
Uut (n.): an infectious strain of contemporary American surrealism; a practitioner of Uut poetics; a cloven-hoofed quadruped with nautical antlers

Or
Super metaphoric symbolism pulled from the monotony of our absentminded society.
Cole Morrissey Feb 2013
Break my fingers and let them hang off the bone
as this world is turning I am the one turning it.
I am the one hammering the stars and igniting the dirt
giving life to the lifeless, breathing air into those lungs.
Work is all I have to give
life is just a conduit
a sweatshop.
Do not be angry at this
for it is better to be the hammer
than it is
to be the star.
Cecelia Francis May 2015
Ante added up
in a slipshod
sweatshop for

Permission to hanker
on some buttermilk
slopwork with

A frump finery of sorts
laundered nicely:
a down gown
Matt Oct 2015
A meaningless life
Filled with nothing

"Did I get something to eat"

She asks.

Yes, I can see the food

You are the most ignorant, obnoxious person
I have ever met

People like you
Should be sent to India
To work 13 hours
In a sweatshop
Just to make enough money
To survive

Your luxury car impounded

People like you
Get Alzheimers
Because you never use
Your mind

You are one of the laziest
Most obnoxious people
I have ever met

You don't live
But exist
Like a picture on the wall

And I hate to be harsh
But it's true

You are an incredibly stupid
And lazy individual

I won't be here
For the holidays
Brent Kincaid Jun 2017
THE LADY OF ALOT

Estatic when she's shopping,
The boughten things she's got;
Right proud of all her purty stuff,
She's The Lady Of Alot.
Alot of costly Chinese stuff
Imported hear by Walmart stores.
She useta shop at I Magnums but
She don't like them ones no more.

Irregardless, she believes she
Ain't not no ordnary ****.
If she'd of got haffa chance
She'd of voted twice for Trump
And the strait Republican ticket
So The Donald can fix are country
Like he exhaled in his own companies,
Making lots of good clean money.

In her sweatshop-made clothing
She shouts allowed she can't wate
For the Grand Old Party and Trump
To agin make Murrkuh grate!
She feel she's happy in her ivory tower
With all the treasures she has got.
She sees nothing wrong with this country
The dense, nearsighted, Lady Of Alot.
As migrant workers in dire need of buttering their bread
To Libya, the hardest way, some Ethiopians opted to head
They spent a portion of their life in a sweatshop
Clinging afloat a better-tomorrow hope.
Tragically, they were intercepted by ISIS members with
A brain, inured, petrified and dead
After blood-thirsty, heinous, ill-motivated and bad shaped.
ISIS demons, who lavish atavism, ironically the faithful behead
With faith-based hatred. Putting on a mask, they
Bullied 30 cross-necklace-bearing Ethiopians to a desert shore,
Showcasing the brutality they adore —the way a cat
Plays with an inescapably captured rat-
Rattling a sabre at the kneeling down victim's back
Making sure their brutality to others proves stark
Like a Hollywood movie they ordered 'attack! '
Oblivious
'Even slaying a sheep or a hen
Must be handled in a way that doesn't inflict a pain! '
The Prophet's word ISIS members misconstrued
"The Muslim Faith owes Ethiopian Orthodox a gratitude!
So Never attack a peaceful Ethiopian! "
What do they care, disciples of satan,
When an Ethiopian Muslim challenged them
"Where is your logic or reason? "
They shot him, taking his act as a treason.

It is martyr's soul that goes to heaven
While the unrepentant terrorists' souls
Are destined for hell's oven!
A true story that happened years back
Roberta Frosty Apr 2018
Hey there, Blue Apron,
We need to talk.
Come into my office.
Have a seat, big shot.

No no no, this time it isn’t
About all the pots.
Although those are an issue.
For sure. There’s just a lot.

Today I’d like to chat with you
About your clock.
Do you own one? Have you seen one?
You’ve heard a “tick tock?”

That’s confusing because you say here
The Glazed Chicken with Apricot
Should take 25 minutes.
But I can assure you, it does not.

I spent half an hour
Just giving the shallots a chop.
Not to mention mincing ginger
And making the chicken stock.

Maybe if I had a team of sous chefs
Or ran a kitchen sweatshop,
I’d get this **** done,
In 25 minutes tops.

So, while it pains me, Blue Apron,
I’ve given it some thought,
And I have to let you go.
This really needs to stop.
Because I simply have no more patience,
For this Glazed Chicken with Apricot.
Francie Lynch Jul 2017
When I turned the key on the house
I anticipated my return.
A protracted absence ensues.
The air behind is trapped, absorbed my everything.
Heavy and lush as the garden.
Feet-weary carpets rebound.
Plants watered, counters subdued.
Traps baited in favorite niches.
Spiders already weaving like a sweatshop.
The kettle will sing again.
My legs will be elevated.
Home again from thousands of miles,
Planning my next getaway.
Andy N Dec 2016
Lost in gutter talk,
The history books
Suggest it was his two brothers
Who took him to the fair
At Longford Park
Boasting of dead fireflies
Instead of fish in little bags,

And follicles of lights
In the ghost house
Almost invisible from
The roller coasters
Descending from the sky
Like space rockets
Replacing sledges.  

Crossing the meadows
Blanked in snow
With echoing laughter
The reports stated
Then missing *****
At coconuts stall
Then footballs

Before proclaiming
It was fixed
And gave up wandering
Over to the roller coaster
Leaving Billy stood there
Protesting it wasn’t

******* cheap gobsuckers
Hiding his tears
Turning a perfect illustration
Into a pastoral scene
Of fireworks
Kissing the moon

Tying themselves up
In his mouth
As a attendant said
‘Six shots for two quid, son’
Accompanying over each shot
‘Lower, lower, lower’

Crossing shots over the tins
Like pennies in keyholes
Wrestling with uneven prayers
Chiselling his nerves
Over sweatshop erected fingertips
‘Lower, lower, lower’

Knifing through
His childhood
One shot after
The other
With each target
He shot through.
(According to the history books Billy the Kid was a known hitman in Stretford in the 1970s)
Francie Lynch Jun 2017
For all you've done and said,
The care and understanding,
All the unsaid and undone
Makes my response sound trite.
I could paste wings on your photos,
Create an award in your name,
Establish a child sweatshop,
Radicalize the altar boys,
Trade up to a ******'s rifle,
Join a Cartel,
Put granulated sugar in your tea,
Vote Conservative,
And even then,
After the fire,
I'd be at a loss for words.
Notes

— The End —