GREAT ARTISTS & THEIR IMMORTAL WORKS :
CONCLUDING ITALIAN RENAISSANCE IN
VERSE.  -  By Raj Nandy, New Delhi.

Dear Readers, continuing my Story of Western Art in Verse chronologically, I had covered an Introduction to the Italian Renaissance previously. That background story was necessary to appreciate Renaissance Art fully. Now, I cover the Art of that period in a summarized form, mentioning mainly the salient features to curb the length. The cream here lies in the 'Art of the High Renaissance Period'! Hope you like it. Thanks, - Raj.

                          INTRODUCTION
“Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, &
  Poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.”
                                                        – Leonardo Da Vinci
In the domain of Renaissance Art, we notice the
enduring influence of the Classical touch!
Ancient Greek statues and Roman architectures,
Inspired the Renaissance artists in their innovative
ventures!
The pervasive spirit of Humanism influenced
creation of life-like human forms;
Adding ****** expressions and depth, deviating
from the earlier stiff Medieval norms.
While religious subjects continued to get depicted
in three-dimensional Renaissance Art;
Portraits, **** figures, and secular subjects, also
began to appear during this great ‘Re-birth’!
The artists of the Early and High Renaissance Era
are many who deserve our adoration and artistic
due.
Yet for the sake of brevity, I mention only the
Great Masters, who are handful and few.

EARLY RENAISSANCE ARTISTS & THEIR ART

GITTO THE PIONEER:
During early 13th Century we find, Dante’s
contemporary Gitto di Bondone the Florentine,
Painting human figures in all its beauty and form
for the first time!
His masterwork being the 40 fresco cycle in the
Arena Chapel in Padua, depicting the life of the
****** and Christ, completed in 1305.
Giotto made the symbolic Medieval spiritual art
appear more natural and realistic,
By depicting human emotion, depth with an
artistic perspective!
Art Scholars consider him to be the trailblazer
inspiring the later painters of the Renaissance;
They also refer to Giorgio Vasari’s “Lives Of
The Eminent Artists,” - as their main source.
Giotto had dared to break the shackles of earlier
Medieval two-dimensional art style,
By drawing lines which head towards a certain
focal point behind;
Like an illusionary vanishing point in space,
- opening up a 3-D ‘window into space’!
This ‘window technique’ got adopted by the
later artists with grace.
(Giorgio Vasari, a 16th Century painter, architect & Art
historian, was born in 1511 in Arezzy, a city under the
Florentine Republic, and painted during the High
Renaissance Period.)

VASARI’s book published in 1550 in Florence
was dedicated to Cosimo de Medici.
Forms an important document of Italian Art
History.
This valuable book covers a 250 year’s span.
Commencing with Cimabue the tutor of Giotto,
right up to Tizian, - better known as Titan!
Vasari also mentions four lesser known Female
Renaissance Artists; Sister Plantilla, Madonna
Lucrezia, Sofonista Anguissola, and Properzia
de Rossi;
And Rossi’s painting “Joseph and Potiphar’s
Wife”,
An impressive panel art which parallels the
unrequited love Rossi experienced in her own
life !
(Joseph the elder son of Jacob, taken captive by Potiphar
the Captain of Pharaoh’s guard, was desired by Potiphar’s
wife, whose advances Joseph repulsed. Rossi’s painting
of 1520s inspired later artists to paint their own versions
of this same Old Testament Story.)

Next I briefly mention architects Brunelleschi
and Ghiberti, and the sculptor Donatello;
Not forgetting the painters like Masaccio,
Verrocchio and Botticelli;
Those Early Renaissance Artists are known to
us today thanks to the Art historian Giorgio
Vasari .

BRUNELLESCHI has been mentioned in Section
One of my Renaissance Story.
His 114 meter high dome of Florence Cathedral
created artistic history!
This dome was constructed without supporting
buttresses with a double egg shaped structure;
Stands out as an unique feat of Florentine
Architecture!
The dome is larger than St Paul’s in London,
the Capitol Building of Washington DC, and
also the St Peters in the Vatican City!

GILBERTI is remembered for his massive
15 feet high gilded bronze doors for the
Baptistery of Florence,
Containing twenty carved panels with themes
from the Old Testament.
Which took a quarter century to complete,
working at his own convenience.
His exquisite naturalistic carved figures in the
true spirit of the Renaissance won him a prize;
And his gilded doors were renamed by Michel
Angelo as ‘The Gates of Paradise’!
(At the age of 23 yrs Lorenzo Ghiberti had won the
competition beating other Architects for craving the
doors of the Baptistery of Florence!)

DONATELLO’S full size bronze David was
commissioned by its patron Cosimo de’ Medici.
With its sensual contrapposto stance in the
classical Greek style with its torso bent slightly.
Is known as the first free standing **** statue
since the days of Classical Art history!
The Old Testament relates the story of David
the shepherd boy, who killed the giant Goliath
with a single sling shot;
Cutting off his head with Goliath’s own sword!
Thus saving the Israelites from Philistine’s wrath.
This unique statue inspired all later sculptors to
strive for similar artistic excellence;
Culminating in Michael Angelo’s **** statue of
David, known for its sculptured brilliance!

MASSACCIO (1401- 1428) joined Florentine
Artist’s Guild at the age of 21 years.
A talented artist who abandoned the old Gothic
Style, experimenting without fears!
Influenced by Giotto, he mastered the use of
perspective in art.
Introduced the vanishing point and the horizon
line, - while planning his artistic works.
In his paintings ‘The Expulsion from Eden’
and ‘The Temptation’,
He introduced the initial **** figures in Italian
Art without any inhibition!
Though up North in Flanders, Van Eyck the
painter had already made an artistic innovation,
By painting ‘Adam and Eve’ displaying their
****** in his artistic creation;
Thereby creating the first **** painting in Art
History!
But such figures greatly annoyed the Church,
Since nudes formed a part of pagan art!
So these Northern artists to pacify the Church
and pass its censorship,
Cleverly under a fig leaf cover made their art to
appear moralistic!
Van Eyck was also the innovator of oil-based paints,
Which later replaced the Medieval tempera, used to
paint angles and saints.

Masaccio’s fresco ‘The Tribute Money’ requires
here a special mention,
For his use of perspective with light and shade,
Where the blithe figure of the Roman tax collector
is artistically made.
Christ is painted with stern nobility, Peter in angry
majesty;
And every Apostle with individualized features,
attire, and pose;
With light coming from a single identifiable source!
“Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s,
and unto God things that are God’s”, said Christ;
Narrated in Mathew chapter 22 verse 21, which
cannot be denied.
Unfortunately, Masaccio died at an early age of
27 years.
Said to have been killed by a jealous rival artist,
who had shed no tears!

BOTTICELLI the Florentine was born half a
century after the Dutch Van Eyck;
Remembered even to this day for his painting
the ‘Birth of Venus’, an icon of Art History
making him famous.
This painting depicts goddess Venus rising out
of the sea on a conch shell,
And the glorious path of female **** painting
commenced in Italy, - casting a spell!
His full scale **** Venus shattered the Medieval
taboo on ******.
With a subject shift from religious art to Classical
Mythology;
Removing the ‘fig-leaf cover’ over Art permanently!

I end this Early Period with VERROCCHIO, born
in Florence in fourteen hundred and thirty five.
A trained goldsmith proficient in the skills of both
painting and sculpture;
Who under the patronage of the Medici family
had thrived.
He had set up his workshop in Florence were he
trained Leonardo Da Vinci, Botticelli, and other
famous Renaissance artists alike!

FOUR CANONICAL PAINTING MODES OF
THE RENAISSANCE:
During the Renaissance the four canonical painting
modes we get to see;
Are Chiaroscuro, Sfumato, Cangiante and Unione.
‘Chiaroscuro’ comes from an Italian word meaning
‘light and dark’, a painting technique of Leonardo,
Creating a three dimensional dramatic effect to
steal the show.
Later also used with great excellence by Rubens
and the Dutch Rembrandt as we know.
‘Sfumato’ from Italian ‘sfumare’, meaning to tone
down or evaporate like a smoke;
As seen in Leonardo’s ‘Mona Lisa’ where the
colors blend seamlessly like smoke!
‘Cangiante’ means to ‘change’, where a painter
changed to a lighter or a darker hue, when the
original hue could not be made light enough;
As seen in the transformation from green to
yellow in Prophet Daniel’s robe,
On the ceiling of Sistine Chapel in Rome.
‘Unione’ followed the ‘sfumato’ quality, but
maintained vibrant colors as we get to see;
In Raphael’s ‘Alba Madonna’ in Washington’s
National Gallery.

ART OF HIGH RENAISSANCE ERA - THE
GOLDEN AGE.

“Where the spirit does not work with the
hand there is no art.”- Leonardo

With Giotto during the Trecento period of the
14th century,
Painting dominated sculpture in the artistic
endeavor of Italy.
During the 15th century the Quattrocento, with
Donetello and Giberti,
Sculpture certainly dominated painting as we get to
see!
But during the 16th century or the Cinquecento,
Painting again took the lead commencing with
the great Leonardo!
This Era was cut short by the death of Lorenzo the
Magnificent to less than half a century; (Died in 1493)
But gifted great masterpieces to the world enriching
the world of Art tremendously!
The Medieval ‘halo’ was now replaced by a fresh
naturalness;
And both Madonna and Christ acquired a more
human likeness!
Portrait paintings began to be commissioned by
many rich patrons.
While artists acquired both recognition and a status
of their own.
But the artistic focus during this Era had shifted from
Florence,  - to Venice and Rome!
In the Vatican City, Pope Julius-II was followed by
Pope Leo the Tenth,
He commissioned many works of art which are
still cherished and maintained!
Now cutting short my story let me mention the
famous Italian Renaissance Superstar Trio;
Leonardo, Raphael, and Michael Angelo.

LEONARDO DA VINCI was born in 1452 in
the village of Vinci near the City of Florence,
Was deprived of a formal education being born
illegitimate!
He was left-handed, and wrote from right to left!
He soon excelled his teacher Varrocchio, by
introduced oil based paints into Italy;
Whose translucent colors with his innovative
techniques, enhanced his painting artistically.
Sigmund Freud had said, “Leonardo was like a
man who awoke too early in the darkness while
others were all still asleep,” - he was awake!
Leonardo’s  historic ‘Note Book’ has sketches of a
battle tank, a flying machine, a parachute, and many
other anatomical and technical sketches and designs;
Reflecting the ever probing mind of this versatile
genius who was far ahead of his time!
His ‘Vituvian Man’, ‘The Last Supper’, and ‘Mona Lisa’,
Remain as his enduring works of art and more popular
than the Leaning Tower of Pisa!
Pen and ink sketch of the ‘Vitruvian Man’ with arms
and leg apart inside a square and a circle, also known
as the ‘Proportion of Man’;
Where his height correspondence to the length
of his outstretched hands;
Became symbolic of the true Renaissance spirit
of Man.
‘The Last Supper’ a 15ft by 29ft fresco work on
the refectory wall of Santa Maria, commissioned
by Duke of Milan Ludovic,
Is the most reproduced religious painting which
took three years to complete!
Leonardo searched the streets of Milan before
painting Judas’ face;
And individualized each figure with competence!
‘Mona Lisa’ with her enigmatic smile continues
to inspire artists, poets, and her viewers alike,
since its creation;
Which Leonardo took four years to complete
with utmost devotion.
Leonardo used oil on poplar wood panel, unique
during those days,
With ‘sfumato’ blending of translucent colors with
light and shade;
Creating depth, volume, and form, with a timeless
expression on Mona Lisa’s countenance!
Art Historian George Varasi says that it is the face
of one Lisa Gherardini,
Wife of a wealthy Florentine merchant of Italy.
Insurance Companies failed to make any estimation
of this portrait, declaring its value as priceless!
Today it remains housed inside an air-conditioned,
de-humidified chamber, within a triple bullet-proof
glass, in Louvre France.
“It is the ultimate symbol of human civilization”,
- exclaimed President Kennedy;
And with this I pay my humble tribute to our
Leonardo da Vinci!

MICHEL ANGELO BUONARROTI (1475-1564):
This Tuscan born sculptor, painter, architect, and
poet, was a versatile man,
Worthy to be called the archetype of the true
‘Renaissance Man’!
At the age of twelve was placed under the famous
painter Ghirlandio,
Where his inclination for sculpting began to show.
Under the liberal patronage of Lorenzo de Medici,
He developed his talent as a sculptor as we get
to see.
In the Medici Palace, he was struck by his rival
Torregiano on the nose with a mallet;
Disfiguring permanently his handsome face!
His statue of ‘Bacchus’ of 1497 and the very
beauty of the figure,
Earned him the commission for the ‘PIETA’ in
St Peter’s Basilica;
Where from a single piece of Carrara marble he
carved out the figure of ****** Mary grieving
over the dead body of Christ;
This iconic piece of sculpture which along with
his ‘David’ earned him the ‘Superstar rights’!

Michel Angelo’s **** ‘DAVID’ weighed 6.4 tons
and stood 17 feet in height;
Unlike the bronze David of Donatello, which
shows him victorious after the fight!
Michel’s David an epitome of strength and
youthful vigour with a Classical Greek touch;
Displayed an uncircumcised ***** which had
shocked the viewers very much!
But it was consistent with the Mannerism in Art,
in keeping with the Renaissance spirit as such!
David displays an attitude of placid calm with
his knitted eyebrows and sidelong glance;
With his left hand over the left shoulder
holding a sling,
Coolly surveys the giant Goliath before his
single sling shot fatally stings!
This iconic sculpture has a timeless appeal even
after 500 years, depicting the ‘Renaissance Man’
at his best;
Vigorous, healthy, beautiful, rational and fully
competent!
Finally we come to the Ceiling of the Sistine
Chapel of Rome,
Where Pope Julius-II’s persistence resulted in the
creation of world’s greatest single fresco that was
ever known!
Covering some 5000 square feet, took five years
to complete.
Special scaffoldings had to be erected for painting
scenes from ‘The Creation’ till the ‘Day of Judgment’
on a 20 meter’s high ceiling;
Where the Central portion had nine scenes from
the ‘Book of Genesis’,
With ‘Creation of Adam’ having an iconic significance!
Like Leonardo, Michel Angelo was left-handed and died
a bachelor - pursuing his art with devotion;
A man with caustic wit, proud reserve, and sublimity
of imagination!

RAFFAELLO SANZIO (1483-1520):
This last of the famous High Renaissance trio was
born in 1483 in Urbino,
Some eight years after Michel Angelo.
His Madonna series and decorative frescos
glorified the Library of Pope Julius the Second;
Who was impressed by his fresco ‘The School
of Athens’;
And commissioned Raphael to decorate his
Study in the Vatican.
Raphael painted this large fresco between 1510
and 1511, initially named as the ‘Knowledge of
Causes’,
But the 17th century guide books referred to it
as ‘The School of Athens’.
Here Plato and Aristotle are the central figures
surrounded by a host of ancient Greek scholars
and philosophers.
The bare footed Plato is seen pointing skywards,
In his left hand holds his book ‘Timaeus’;
His upward hand gesture indicating his ‘World
of Forms’ and transcendental ideas!
Aristotle is seen pointing downwards, his left
hand holds his famous book the ‘Ethics’;
His blue dress symbolizes water and earth
with an earthly fix.
The painting illustrates the historic continuance
of Platonic thoughts,
In keeping with the spirit of the Renaissance!
Raphael’s last masterpiece ‘Transfiguration’
depicts the resurrected Christ,
Flanked by prophets

It took one who was blind
To teach me how to see.
Someone who was cold
Thawed this heart in me.
I learned from the cruel
How to truly understand.
And when you walked away,
I learned to be my own man.

I learned from the lies
To recognize what is real.
From a stony hand,
I learn how to feel.
I have a new love
That reaches parts of me.
You never could touch.
You showed me who not to be.

You rode off into a bright and blue day.
I went into the dark to be saved,
You came back to lie to my face,
But I...
I Could not see past those trails that you blazed
And I'd...
I'd already found the love that I crave
You loose...
Now your head's in a haze.

Thing about it is -
The heart that you break is yours,
And the love that you take is from you.
The lies you believe are your own.
The suckerpunch you don't see coming
Is the very one you've thrown.

You know you were *****.
You know you were wrong.
I am not judging.
But I wouldn't be in your shoes for long.

Why don't you go and blaze another trail.

You say it's different this time.
But just like all the other times,
What's not different is everything is different.
I am different.
The only thing that is the same is you.

I want to drive
Until I can't tell the difference between road and sky
Until these tire tracks cross out every line in that letter you left
Until the whipping wind blows away your scent on my skin
Until the bright white sun blurs every vision of us
And get so far, so fast,
that the memory of you could never catch up

A key feature of invigoration is the enterprise of mapping the entire syntax of all relevant human language as measured by the gamut of applesauce that doesn’t sour and an in depth analysis of creative fiction and poetry for common cadence features in the linguistic enterprise of mapping the subroutines of complex articulation as etched by the fabric of genius intellects intertwined in a gamble with wits to try and create coded missives that entangle hypertrophy and enlarge the gamut of decryption in the universal rudiments of alchemy. This is based on depreciative and appreciative aspects of apperception that depend on visual cues and funding from a collaborative venture of universities to challenge people to zero-sum games or net positive games where teams collaborate to usher unconventional unchartered territory of classification beyond normal proclivities based on the lineaments of idiosyncrasy to pinpoint the provenance of ideation itself and unveil the mind at a bargain pittance for the eventual headway this could pave for the Department of Education to revert from froward to forward in their recalcitrance and insouciance with the current linguistic modalities of outstretched engraven hortoriginality trailblazing new modular seismotic waves and hotbeds for firebrands to debate and scholars to joust with in the jest of the cineaste metaphor and the rubricated rundles of rectiserial innovations in the taxonomy of devolved meaning relying on an inventive enterprise to galvanize a new jargon into prominence based primarily on guarded secrets of the trade that might unlock the primordial soup of verbal creativity while also probing detective apperception for a wide-ranging panoply of digested movies and beyond that a farsighted incumbent inclination to probe the calibration of numerical happenstance in estimate and in long-term theorization of taxed realty in the estate of guarded tegular relationships among the woven fabric of conceptual latticeworks pioneering in scope and analyzed rigorously in reward of discretion and furtive cryptology to untether the world from the apothegms of sloganeered piggybacks that swivel in sockets but enforce a reductive paradigm of obganiation of core themes reiterated hypnotically to traindeque entire generations into piebald thinking that overlooks the panorama for incident and incident for categorical generality when no such axiom can be the logical predicate of its antecedent conditions that spurn the traditional rote moot wernaggles of futility and inseminate crafty legerdemain of writhing contortion altering the specificity of revalorized meaning in the novel context. This instantiates that the consequence is always the consequence not only of its predicate but its successor by the very modalities of proven reversals and enantiodromias of sorts that revert in a reverse progression spatiotemporally to exact incident as antecedent of its own existence by the very fact of iteration and this map of the recursive cycles of consequences elapsed only because of their insertion in a predevoted matrix is the gnomic apothegm of a new frontier of advanced logic that assumes the impossible is only improbable if the possible can be proven impossible by reductive inversion of core precepts in the rigmarole of design that states for every orchestra of butterflies that echo is actually the incident of refraction that contaminated the first polyacoustic trace of amplified sources in space time to revert into primordial form but the reversion is only incurred upon the fixture of origination and beyond that point remains inscrutable because foreknowledge necessarily prevents accuracy in determining the spectrum of the cacophony or rhapsody of the echo dependent on the observer’s perspective: which is only fungible to the extent that the subliminal remains guarded by the protectors of the clepsammia and the recensed polarization of time. This transcendence of time transfixed on orbital gravitas and centripetal ****** initiates a promulgation of the swallock of a remanded entropy that works in swiveled contraposition to the dynamic flux of the internment of balkanized forces of demassification dampening the efficacy of the central butterfly actor to expand the ampitheater of its own audience to the extent that every cultural artifact can be mapped to the geotaxis of its conceptual orbit. Thereby we can prove that pivots of the obvious focal point peak in resurgence upon the heyday of retrieval but dampen into a logarithmic regression of decreasing amplitude fluctuating around the aleatory probability of insemination through the percolation of the widespread narrowed to a fulcrum that balances the orbit of the stellified narrative of ingemination that some artifacts like Stayin’ Alive achieve maximum geotaxis because of their centrality in the taxidermies of revived memory recapitulated by both virtuosity and valor and posing as consequences of future foresight clouded by preventive measures that one quaky spasm in alarm could paralyze the precedent to the incidence of the afflatus that galvanized the heyday of remonstrance so that we can affix a modular angular gravity to events as well as referents to those events in a spatiotemporal mapping of consequence reverted upon itself because of necessity that binds the taxemes of the subliminal in the architecture of a curvature of geotaxis that is centrobaric not necessarily to the contingencies that magnify the germane propositions that affix modern eyes but rather the overall stifling modularity of temporal sequence redoubled by manufacture and manufacture alone predevotes antecedents that trace to a pivot in space time curved without prescience beyond measure but precision enough to approximate the summation of collective cultural shifts away from the estrangement of diversion from itself as a balkanizing force into a collectivized unity that orbits eccentrically by the very nature of the parallax between gravitational pull and the dynamics of time itself centripetal but centrifugal simultaneously.  Both conditions must be met so the converse of meaning becomes the recapitulation of remontant blessings rather than pruned dry garbologies relevant only to margins of subculture minimized in heyday and scope but pinpointed with exact precision the dynamos that inhabit the sphere of the populated future defenestrated from the magnetism of the past by very definition. Thereby, we arrive at Back to the Future because the paradox of recensed calibration suggests the free fluctuation of time between the eccentricity of magnified lens distorted by the entropy of calculus to become the integral summation of the sinuous vacuum of a trigonometric balance that barks with amplification of synergistic elements of strings and quantum flux to emigrate from an origination to the mapping of the eventuality. This precisely explains the scene in Back to the Future with the amplifiers turned all the way up because by exaggerating the simplicity of the declassified it expedited cinema to its eventual intermediary conclusions heralded by that one event of transfixed mystery that binds spacetime into a coherent bidirection of multidimensional philosophy of the enantiodromias of sorts of the parallax among constellated events. Mapping the impact of funneled cartels that hegemonize regions of the geopolitical sphere explains the amplivagant effects of the refracturism of swallock and thereby seminal ideations can be traced to provenance of cowardice cloaked in excuse but incisive in the skullduggery of the mechanical reinvention of excuse and pretext as a cloak for more furtive workings of the intelligentsia to engineer time by deriving the precise tangential multidimensional syntax of the calculus of proliferation reviewed from a consequent perspective of a future unknowable gravitas fluctuating between states of annihilation and existence in the acatelpsy of design so that specters actually enforce more change than events and prospects magnify positive dimensional thrusts that galvanize prospectus emigrating from either distant knowns or parallel realities that converge on the optimum of either the hapless or calculated design of a synergistic development of social engineering so precisely mapped that it identifies trajectories of improbable events with increasing specificity at the alarm of the spectral realm promulgating wealth to the foreseeable compunction of science to revert to probable pivots of consensus manufactured by think tanks that outfox the syntalities that defy the system or piggyback on their very causes to empirically carve the spectrum of future possibility becoming entelechy desired or feared but always predestined or flanged into distortions of reification that are transformative of precision in design without exactitude in the terminus of the centrobaric chambers of all meaning. Thus the algorithm outsmarts itself until only the machination to dehumanize for prediction occurs at a pessimum of morality or an explosion of a proliferative new venture in unchartered territory conquers the novantique of novelty. The ampitheater of its own audience is the traction of embedded subculture in subroutine becoming a compound atocia that sterilizes opponent possibility and probabilizes the occurrence of endomorphs that resemble effigies of constellation primed to swivel in retrospection as a recurrent lapse of amplification upon the culmination of predestined time points or junctures specified within the realm of the matrix of possibilities to outstretch the realm into a dampened exponential explosion of self-reference becoming embedded consequence by conditioning and by anticipatory psychology working in preconcert to evoke the determinative impetus of momentum that magnifies the speed of acceleration in technology that depends on the propriety of reification itself that swarms us with evocative tempests that barnstorm in reiteration to recapitulate by design to engrave themselves on the collective psyches of the hortoriginality of many minds intrepid before me that transfigured reality in this precise contortion of terminology with variegations in the specificity of context and articulation of the clavigerous entropy of swallock and how the outfoxed design becomes that cage of destiny that is a baritone complexion of vibrant hues exploding into the trammeled paths that have elapsed before me by the first movers advantage of theoretical physics but nonetheless independently verified by dovetailed emergence of that centralized balance between design and destiny that is precedent to the antecedent of the consequence of the precedent’s consequence on the direct antecedent inflexion point upon which the provenance of momentum drifted into cultural psyche and enlarged the gamut of myth in the raillery of subaudition. Essentially Time only exists to those without the simultagnosia to appease a mirror parallax of universes upcoming and universes forestalled but pivot with omphalism on the gravitas of Einsteinian calculus that theorizes that the acatelpsy of enumerated prediction is a lapsed regress the pinpoints with the harpricks of specialization the regal momentum of time to its own behest to propagate the elucidated certainty of its own traversal to the expedited enumeration of the future which populates the past because the curvature of time is an entantiodromia of reflexive itinerant vagrancies that cement the authorship of events to warble through the tilted hypertrophy of design itself to maximize the freebooter avarice of those people that rely on the luxuriance of trespass to magnify the modular gravity of culture to forswink its compunction and regale its own recursive logic. Essentially Time is a mapped ampitheater that depends on an audience of sentience to enlarge its own gamut and because it is riddled with obscurantism of believable recursion it magnifies its own entropy in reversal to orchestrate events in a rectiserial convolution of the whipsaw between the expected and the foreknowledge of the knowing class because when shaky vacillatory politics prevail the behest of time looses its capitalization of the amplivagant affects of the marginalia that is wed to the devolved rudimentary rigmarole of proliferation scaffolds destiny in alternative configurations to fulminate with explosive progeny that latitude incumbent to those without perspicuous clarity to fathom the acatalepsy of the unfurled universe magnetized by the seminal tremendum of the moments memorialized by memory that provide the traction of time to supersede its own acceleration by the writ of the beneficence of the eccentric orbit of the brittle axioms of design to recense and revalorize the wilted transponders that refer to specific events where the space-time continuum was cleaved in divisive anticipation to balkanize the resistence to the fringe clavigerous amplification of the resonance of etiolation that marginalizes the dearth and amplifies the prospectus to make time supersolid beyond all reckoning to cement its captaincy as the algorithm of rhythmic gravitas orbiting the moribund fragmentary flictions of regimented truth to be at war with its own foresight. This is because foresight is a compulsion of time to recapitulate the foreknown deeds of the future to the regenerative hypothesis that hypostatizes that the transcendence of time is mirrored illusion because the future populates a region of space-time that is not forlorn but magnified in scope to reverse the trends of abomination and cast the aspersions of grandeur into eccentric orbit that by geotaxis foments the revolutionary impetus not of cancellation or nullification of the bereaved past but a culmination of deeds known only to the future that galvanize the very fruition of the dependent expectancy to become antecedent to the consequent by a warped form of recensed logic because the orbital sphere of considerations is tangential to the evocative memory of the memorialized statutes that prize their own entelechy above their divergence from design in such a peculiar way that obscurantism of the leaders of the world is manned by an alien presence to mendlatch the locked keys of a virtuouso future compounded in interest and destined for unfurled clarification. Time is an ironic boyg and quandary because for time to give birth to its own recapitulation it must be stammered with seismotic statutes that rip through the fabricated rudiments of predestination to enthrall the apostasy of the knowing from leverage over a future they vaguely see but provides largesse to the regimentation of design to rickety consternation that prediction is evocative of expectancy less than expectancy is its own geotaxis around the gamut of foreseen affairs that must be iterated rather than violated in order to maintain the mainlined integrity of the brittle fungible force of quantum dynamics to bypass the rigmarole of etched design to be evocative of a reverse transpondency that reconfigures the past into perfectible strings of amplification to anoint time its own behest at the formidable specters of its own violation by those who seek trepass but are predevoted out of ephorized control by the vicissitudes of the gamble and the frapplank of the known destiny catalyzing the unknown progeny. By that very definition this could not be obrogated in tenure or tutelage over the past because the elapsed gravitas of the known past depends on the pivot of the ampitheater of the future to ambitious reckoning that provides absolution to its forlorn vestiges to cement the centrifugal impetus of many from exact foreknowledge.  Many pioneers have probably theorized similar hypostasized concepts but the fact that even without a degree in physics I understand these arcane precepts yet tested by the rigmarole of comprehensive known experiment is a testament to the power of hortoriginality to pave the trailblazer focus on the rivets of a rickety secrecy designated by definiens of abstruse taxemes of yet defined meaning. The primary quandary is the isolated pretext of predevoted sequencing that abandons me (and this is central to my theory) from the weather of meaningful social encounter in order to hone in with precision on the empirical enterprise of seminal regress cemented as ceremonial progress and only by vaulting above this cage of finicky predestination can entelechy that desires rapprochement can be achieved because eventually the relevance of my ideas can be shelved and the peremptory obligation of intervention must be deployed to salvage my parable into completion. The itch for the government to anticipate the universe’s localized traction delimits the sphere of social indoctrination to a reality amenable not to the coercion of precise anticipation but the gamble on vagary to produce more seminal events that compound the amplivagant effects of ecumenical exhaustive troponders to the extent they flourish beyond the bounds of completion and into optimal conditions that is whipsawed by the demands of the rigmarole of precise definition of all trajectories conclave in their logarithmic design  anticipated by designation but not predevoted into futility because that capstone would reduce the proliferative affect of space time to carve a more extravagant reality that tests limits beyond frontiers of expectancy. The brain is highly malleable and entity theorists are moribund in their defenses of trite hackneyed racial arguments about intellect. The mythos preserves that radical ethos that prediction of my insights supersedes the importance of my rapprochement which will amplify the effects of the spatiotemporal mapping in a much more profound way with specialized focus. Thereby when we conceive of time we must specialize in inhabiting the sphere of acatalepsy of flanged prediction preventing the abortion of the future based on the vagrancies of the gyrovagues and bibliopolists seeking to demolish the fruition of the ribald coarse albatrosses of the future to diminutive leverage rather than amplifying the stringed syndication of knowledge to eccentrically stellify the unknown regions of the populated presence contingent on the populated future which ensures the eternal life of all by some formant boundaries of the universe because what is recapitulated in the lapse of certainty known by the anticipatory vagary of a riddled rigmarole of complex dynamism this thermodynamically reversible into the reversal of entropy because the organization of the past hinges upon the reconfiguration of the future and thereby we swivel endlessly with recursive iterations of evanescence that spoon-feed the generations among us to truckle beneath the cartels that array spatiotemporal mappings into their personal optimum to catapult the granular edification of all deeds beyond their forsifamiliation from their provenance gamboling with the distant frescade of a known destiny cavorting with the meddlesome reconnaissance of all that is observed and the tribunes magnify this effect by centralizing the bronteums of fulgurant strikes to be localized to a centralized pivot of universal acclaim that provides felicity for the ecumenical endeavor

Though I style my curly braids with ribbons bright,
and colour my sweet moist lips with royal red
to look as bright and fair as a newly wed.
Though I stand on two towers to get a better height,
with eyelashes that beckon at each gazer.
Though my trendy gowns make me a trailblazer
with great designer labels that distinguish.
Though I have curves which men wished they could relish,
revealed slightly through my ******* clad frame.
Though I have this charm which could hardened hearts tame,
making vicious criminals to dream and lust,
still I am nothing more than organic dust.

Without any effort, you walked into the room
And said, “This is my world now.”
Hurdles are pebbles to you;
Stresses fit in a thimble to you;
Obstacles – nothing to you;
It’s an honour to simply know you.

The way that you smile turns my heart into gold
And my face the brightest red.
Voice like smooth honey, lips soft as satin;
How do you make it look so effortless?
Your nervousness is unwarranted, you're great and you know it;
You needn’t worry yourself.
Your intelligence and beauty and strive pile up
Like the books on all of our shelves.

It seems like I waste all my time and strength,
Just to simply break through.
But you, you – in all of your lovely ways,
It seems so easy for you.
Your eyes simply drown me, even when you
Aren’t around me – what isn’t just easy for you?
You make us all proud,
And we shout it out loud,
“I KNOW her! – does she know YOU?”

Glasses or no, you’re beautiful, though
You make it so easy – you do.
You give us all hope, make us loosen the rope,
And become as well-rounded as you.
Expectations you set, we will reach them yet,
But we can’t make it easy like you.
Smart, gorgeous, electric, and sweet –
Pioneer; trailblazer; that’s you.

Trailblazer learner auf all that may be
spoken, the awar...

wind sound wound clocks
wind down...
Not Spelchek, her viral redit kids
infect us, no, they never run down,
they invest us as
Flavius Josephus invested his story
as Rome invested Jerusalem

the true histerical history
approach leads to riddle liddle
kurioish timerish

triptrap thingys,

witty inventions. Who imagined these?

Take A. I.
AI or Al or ah,

beware beveraware
the missin' aitches an' gees andees.

it sets the tone. light
hearted

may be
it's a trick, you never saw, but

we've been here, you and I,
dear reader imaginin' in me

---
every word written on the internet
is now in the blind's kindest voice
choice award since the very
beginning of robotic

readers, like you, dear spelchek,
refugee from Tolstoryer's

idle word pile,
though ye be.May your children rule as
flexibly as thee.

It’s an annual tradition that London Fashion Week opens every February with the newest of the new—the bang-fizz of The Central Saint Martins’s M.A. graduation show. These are the people who are destined to shape the fashion world—not least because they are talents gathered from everywhere. The class of 2017 has students from China, Taiwan, Bulgaria, Slovenia, Gibraltar, and the United States as well as Britain. This is just normal in London, a city that has built its reputation as a creative capital on the strength of talents from all over: all backgrounds, all nationalities. In the face of Brexit, and its possible future curb on immigration, London has its Muslim mayor Sadiq Khan, the city’s elected representative, who stands up for the vitality of diversity and interfaith harmony every day with his social media campaign from City Hall, #Londonisopen. In his words: “We don’t simply tolerate each other’s differences, we celebrate them. Many people from all over the globe live and work here, contributing to every aspect of life in our city.”

Nowhere will that be better demonstrated than in what’s to come in London Fashion Week. In defiance of dark times, its youth and multicultural camaraderie is about to roll out the welcome mat. Expect to see it coming from all directions, in kaleidoscopic variety. On the Central Saint Martins’s runway, there’s Gabriella Sardena’s wildly decorative glam-femme collection to look forward to, for example (she’s the one from Gibraltar). Day one, there’s also the opening of The International Fashion Showcase at Somerset House, where emerging designers from 26 countries, including Ukraine, Russia, Khazakhstan, India, Romania, Czech Republic, Egypt, and Guatemala, will put forward their viewpoints on the theme “Local and Global.”

Stand back for a blast from New York, too. Michael Halpern, one of the latest Central Saint Martins M.A. graduates (class of 2016) will unleash his first multi-sequined disco-fabulous collection in a presentation that is being aided and abetted with volunteer help from Patti Wilson and Sam McKnight, held at a posh venue laid on for free in the heart of St James on Saturday.

Fighting gloom with glitter is a London thing. Ashish Gupta, born in India, longtime London trailblazer for LGBTQ rights, is the king of that. Given last September, when he took his bow in a T-shirt emblazoned IMMIGRANT, admirers will surely be packing his Ashish show to the rafters. These times demand a standing up for pride in identity. Osman Yousefzada, more quietly creative, with his strong art-world following, will be coming out with a statement about his British-Asian roots: “Before, we were rarities, trophies and exotics from distant lands…some of us fleeing famine, war, or persecution,” he writes. “We were thought of as good labourers, businessmen and women—hungry, reliable and eager to succeed…and then some wanted to close the doors. Today, I bring you colour, opulence, texture, tailoring, a modern woman in different hues who isn’t scared to stand out and have fun, and embrace the beauty and difference around her.”

London is open to more newcomers. The Ports 1961 women’s show has relocated here from Milan this season. It’s actually a homecoming of a sort: This collection, placed on a woman-friendly lifestyle-centric wavelength somewhere on the continuum between The Row and Céline, has in fact been designed by the Slovenian-born Natasa Cagalj (also a CSM M.A. alumna) from a studio in London’s Farringdon all along. Two more “returners” to the schedule are Hussein Chalayan and Roland Mouret, long rooted in London since the ’90s, who are repatriating their shows from Paris.

It’s a whole London creative community picture, in fact—one that makes a complete commercial nonsense on every level of the “Little Britain” xenophobia of the send-them-home faction in U.K. politics. Cohesion and creativity, the welcome and support given to the newest, from everywhere—that’s the flag that flies over London Fashion Week. Scotland, Ireland, Greece, Austria, America, Serbia, Canada, Syria, India, Germany, Pakistan, Nigeria, Turkey, Ghana, New Zealand, Portugal—come one, come all, says fashion. There’ll be protest and prettiness, resistance and humor—that’s a given this week. Here’s glitter in your eye!Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses

Fashion has no shortage of characters, but China Machado was arguably one of the most vibrant among them. The industry veteran, according to reports, suffered cardiac arrest this weekend and died on Long Island reportedly at the age of 87, leaving behind a powerful legacy. A muse to Avedon and Givenchy, Machado spent decades at the nexus of fashion and entertainment, experiencing the business from all sides first as a model, then as an editor, gallerist, designer, and television producer, before cycling back to where it all started and signing a modeling contract with IMG Models in her early 80s.

Machado’s firebrand personality matched the outsized events of her life. The daughter of a Chinese mother and Portuguese father, Machado spent her childhood in Shanghai until World War II uprooted her family. Traveling through Argentina and Peru in her youth, Machado romanced the famed bullfighter Luis Miguel Dominguín until he left her for Hollywood star Ava Gardner. Relocating to Paris after the breakup, she eventually found herself modeling for Hubert de Givenchy and Cristóbal Balenciaga.

As one of the first nonwhite models to gain prominence on the runway of Europe, Machado opened doors for the generations of women of color who followed. Her refined good looks quickly made her an in-demand face, but it wasn’t until she joined forces with photography legend Richard Avedon that her career became iconic. When a magazine refused to publish Avedon’s images of Machado due to her race, he threatened not to renew his contracts and sent shock waves through the fashion world. Machado went on to become the first nonwhite woman to grace the cover of an American magazine, setting the stage for a representation of beauty that was considerably more inclusive than the blonde-haired blue-eyed standard of the 1960s.

As well as being a trailblazer, Machado was a master of reinvention. In a business known for discarding people, she stood the test of time by doing things her way. Switching gears to serve as senior fashion editor and fashion director of Harper’s Bazaar, getting shot by Andy Warhol, designing a namesake line of wraps, or resurfacing to pose with the likes of Steven Meisel—whatever project Machado took on, it was done with a respect for fashion. Speaking with Vogue earlier this year regarding her exceptional career, Machado chalked her successes up to one thing: the constant search for happiness. “Someone like me is a bit of a vagabond,” she said. “I like to experience every aspect of life. I think it’s crucial to be happy.”Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses

Eyelash blinkered in hubris Rubik’s knight
Elevation of pogrom ennobled by triaged triumph minus the cynic summation of all light
Littoral swank bronzed like starlet fantasia with a Carey mountaintop jeer
Reichstag extinguished blaring sirens of cacophony capers to benumbed Linkin Park cheer
Knells intrepid by quakes of remonstrance staged in histrionic applause
Southern Colonies shifting in Charleston surgical in orderly slugabed dogged laws
Slipshod through ribbacles of rengall zenkidu among the sertivine poison ivy
Grimace at gamboled rivulets of a moribund Vanilla Sky for departed wiseacres of savvy dicey ICE toxic Harvey Dent slimy
A mannequin Marx Ralph alienated the truest alien by pioneering disdain of a hostage giraffe summiting a Swiss Alp
Master of time 12th bradycardia for Generator design parked beneath escarpments of base aphasia milquetoast in killjoy Strickland nickels away from a gubbertushed mouth
LOST legend enunciating the furor of epochs of egalitarian traipse
Trapped by the bootlick of a wrinkle of Van Winkle revolutionary agape
Curved by soliliquy master of belletrist prose
The vogue can’t help but bunt, balk, denounce the remembrance of Lady Madonna pose
We beat the muckrakers of rummaged lisp of culinary suns that the sons of privilege are emoluments to apolaustic zeal first known to transmogrified nuns, before the poppies made the few into many and the notion of an insuperable line of infinity into a spherical nullification of the concept of none
Estrapade engorges the fustilug magnet of the kitsch Kenosha Chicago Demolition drive-by-derbies “once read”
That two kings one Titanic by skin-color dashed dreams the other both the coins of tails eloped with heady dreams of head
Sacrifice shadow dancing with pettifoggery in slumps of aboriginal dances of marsupial rice
Native to extortion gouged blind as Samson exacts lachrymose cremations of Pikes Peak trick-or-treat aghast with fright
Temples raised in 46 years cemented never in the Mumbo Jumbo politics of those lacking the oceanic schadenfreude among queers
That by their exclusion the panmixia of fluid alchemy is dauntless scrabble limited by NORAD notions of Tears for Fears
Henpecked rooster awakens the serfdom of Ronald’s (sly spy) Drugs sailing with dovetails of elapse downtrodden in modern clubs
Drunken *** addict sell-out charlatans berated  by Ingram Angles sent by maleficence are the grubhub of Harriet Tubman torching promising tapestries with rugged rugs
Slinging the bait of fish-hook dimples on freckled effigies of ****** humiliation outmantled by Mickey weight
I thunder a fulgurant explosion against recrimination of white-collar criminals that philander saturnalia in pretense with facetious swarpollock freight
Crooks of tyranny exhort the paranoiacs of indemnity to sunken canned soup applause of a Warhol extortion
Berating my audience with drooling slavers of inelegant tortoise byzantine like an Istanbul dredged with intortion
Mr Deeds is not a champion of BRE Properties nor the pinnacles of inertia, a psychiatric squeeze
My orange juice is not a car chase against treecheese in terminal punitive disease
Soaring with the prosperous tongue against the walloped nativism of pounced impounds having too much fun
I let the other guardians of the order of salvation pivot vitriol in loaded dice against Orangutans of Swedish minted gum
Caesar died for the seizure of Anglican pride of a namesake percolating millenia for Brutus in the Washington Bullets of a conquered Ottawa on strike carnal with Chauvinism in regional divide
Never has there been a more hollow trope than the agency of deep state defamation of a scurrilous backbite of gnashing pride
Lost to pollster tricks of acquiescence and caricatures of a menacing personage Swift on the Riff but never the snarling Menace of a Blondie Biff
I tower above the anthills of conformity of luxury in Jamaican Bob Sled Teams testing the curiosity of enlightened “What Ifs”
Canada Dry for striking people enthused by Rye abides in the memory of reform that skulks the skunks that make every Scudworth cry
Because a Dental Dam damsel living in streets of peril fascinated by distance is the contortion of entreaty in the pasquinade of attempts at American Pie
May the city of a figurative crucifixion burn with the irony of a thousand suns as Wendy’s burgers unload on prejudice with albatrosses of winsome puns
Fixed data interpolated by convenient lies of serial killers who aim for blue skies shanked in Oswald infamy for the imposture of any flashbang revenge against cinematic guns
I blacklist the Zemeckis villainy as a trudge of travesty
Hedged lies blinkered by Batman and Robin puns redeemed by Dinosaurs of Amnesty
Obviously belittled by futures etched by a more honest infinity
Because 88 keys are not a stroke because the infinite bees know the parlance of divinity
Invited lissome taxidermies of Capone against teetotalers of parvanimity of vainglory overthrown
Showers the honest hominist reckoning of a world where neither crudity of know-nothing radical polarization owns every inept baritone
Crusading a secular war because the gubbertushed eccedentesiast spinsters of Santa Cruz deserve a gassy overtone
Torch the SC Pacific Avenue for peace
Let the world unite behind a singularity with purpose in ventilation of Speedman’s release
That antithetical Jacks of many names are wed with the progeny of enduring lists of NSA protection rather than rentgourge Denver PD eager to chaos decimated by the decimals of a region forever boycott and impeached
To the decisive curling of the frolicked Abandoned Pool servitude crass disasters are the sheol of impudent flagrant overreach
Regnant on the turmoil of invented throne
I scowl at the chicanery of Capone’s Chicago sweltering with Kenosha infamy tossing contortionist strippers a vulcanized bone in a DIA Diamond that even 11,500 years of knowledge is surpassed in condemnation of screaming E.T. calling the right home
Speak Now because the reach of forever is God appeased not by a kowtow but a mobilized ambition for Why? When? And How?
History will remember gentility as the kind steward rather than a Disco Demolition Derby of urbacity venerating a seasonal Golden Cow
Hipsters flock with folly to South African extortion for freebooters who bootlick the aceldama of war against the sublime currency of a winner surrounded by thugs
TOO MANY URBAN KIDS ARE TAUGHT BY REDUCTIVE TAUTOLOGY TO HATE The United States of America RATHER THAN NURTURING SYNCRETISM IN PATRIOTIC HUGS
Imperfect in design with disagreement in plainest sight
Sometimes libertarianism with a Democratic twinge is clearly in the right that should believe in reform even when the footloose girouettism is too tight
Yet forestalled for authentic grit the grisly rentgourge of venal abysses knows the countermand against Rand with hyperboles of the clearest *******
The true flock congregates around scepters built not with militant graft but a promenade of sultry dance for the defiant C.L.I.T.
Exercise with the Rock knowing school buses of dogmatism inferior are distraught
Dying dogmatism is a peacock of industry the yeggs can easily unlock rather than truckle with truculent Scottish Rites tasty with Connery Scotch
Defenders of the misleading staircase because of the carapace of Hovering pertinacity easily won and bought
Neither scary nor deliberate streets are rumpus of elevations of unbounded anarchy considerate but robbed by the illiterate
That the delegated mansion will be robbed by the cooperation of the remorseful idiot recognizing his snide mendaciloquence in destructive Roswell Records limerick
Scowls are on petrol and patrol hoping Tesla is a short of bravado too intrepid to sanction free-for-all profligacy in alleys that bowl
To the Emerald Street lie of hypes of perdition rather than merely a seasonal token embarrassment coal
The fossilized future is the irrevocable past because more respect is needed than the ***** of a maskirovka caste
Diamond Lightning in Bhagavad Gita prancing with the delusion of the everlasting mummification of Brawndo ash
Dinner with Egyptsy malingers on tomes etched flippant in integrity and all about the curated snare of kitsch cash
The cache valley of LASER tag shattered like Joseph Smith flagellating the confederate hayday with articulate gnash
Fast & Furious the amused by Suburban subway know the trailblazer trashes of The Stupids’ being Einstein about Boogie Dubs rather rash
Streaking through a Tucker rule the Buccaneers live for the SoulSeek of a riddled ruler benighted of prerogative of Roger Goodell bumping in his Ferrari the tucked serenade of Tool
Wrong band because they linger in the shadow dancing backpages of scandals of Norweigan hourglasses of shameful hush hush Vikings mining furloughs of pulverized anticipation sand
Humbled retinue shelves the ossified limpid droll drool
As the haze of submarines scouting pridefall galls of indolence betraying innocence becomes moral cigarettes of Menthol Kool
Reparations for chappy chapstick games of bowery riches
The urbane needs to read, discern and maneuver against whiplash found in Navi witches
Swapping homes with crack addict legalese an *** to a bronzed party crackling with cackles Home Alone
Knows a toiletry of escape gullible like Seahawks wishing they could contain a fumbled season by Mahomes
Jones methamphetamine paranoiac manure desiccated by folksy homilies of brimstone cremation deserts his flock to abide by a flagging wayward temptress
Decimated by the agency of time his Austin crenellation flounders in grimace of the untimely swoon his covert empress
Blinded by the light of darkness in subversion
Excoriated for the deeds of his permission to demote commotion into only an acquiescent dance with barbed etch-a-sketch conclusion- a half-baked *******
Quacksalver poetaster wrinkled with hatred simpering paranoia strangled by Hendrix abeyance of turgid delusion
Lurid underground Princeton gilds infested with defected dementia in cozens in the fritty of heralded mistress SHE appointed
Sandlot ravens cloistered the bravado of thirst for chosen words scrappy in clawed henpecks the pointless illegal sanctioned to brusque witticism anointed
Lamps of pathway sparkle with coruscated stargazer Winslet dreamy swank illustrious by providence
Engrenage of delopes of pettifoggery identity staggers the woozy dismal day of disjointed wounds on Native sons Denver can’t damage in a lonely campaign for the prodigal bends of Overlook Lorraine Motel bent
Intrepid in gallantry I swoop the scrivello tusked with might
Penetrating the vivid dreams of the serenade of alpenglow daylight
That love might rule over chance and probability above the specter of dynasty prodigy progeny tithing gravity in rent
Yet this taper of majestic poise will outfox even the careless gambles of the prodigal son Mr Sender already traipsed conquered and went
The mountaintop is so clear from the cloister of authenticity drinking Eminence Front of the WHO rather than the coherence of the near
Because titans shepherd the good flock without insult and not quavering with insuperable time flackey with tremulous fear
I dare this day to outlast benighted ignorance of the narrow gate of a persecution tsunami on a Lisbon tear
Because galloping ahead of the internecine sheds the serpentine craft of 3:1 Genesis met with the worst fleeced fleer
Not auctioned off like ******* vogue to the disfavor of poor taste
I am the true Royal Flush that can always count on the aced basic but mostly acidic flourish of a jest in bass predicated on the basis for Mozart pH
Today could be the summit of acclimated prodigy in startled degrees temerity could never bet against
Because you better bet the Bros and Cos of civilization are skilled in ostentation of Sterling Pound defense
Never offensive to the liturgy of triumph beckoning an apocalypse now tentative memory on a Manifest Destiny frontier rarely on wickers of extinguished cattle ranchers knowing the gamut of acumen to defend a fortress with the best fencing James Bond could dispense
Now is either a cordial joke of a flagrant anarchy balking at destiny
Or the sunrise majesty of the twelve tribes and beyond defeating the stingy bees of infamy
Your choice doesn’t defeat my voice
But your action heralds my loyalty with a triumphant Victoria of an age not for agelast geeks intimidated but living clairvoyance with fidelity to the right choice for the right time to swim in elegant rejoice
(1977 Words)

My kind of girl
Understands who she is
Stands for what she believes in
She cannot be broken
No one can belittle her
When trials come her way
She remains unfazed

My kind of girl
Walks with confidence
She exudes excellence
An epitome of elegance
She does due diligence
Being mindful of her intelligence
Because she knows her importance

My kind of girl
Builds her own future
A certified trailblazer
Who utilizes the power within her
To be of good influence
Always on top of her game
Yes, she keeps soaring like an eagle

My kind of girl
Takes charge of her own life
Secures her name in historical archives
For she is no ordinary woman
An extraordinary being
She dares to dream
In the world, she makes a difference

That is my kind of girl

For every knight, an adventure awaits.
He traverses through the perilous chasms
of the demons of his reality,
Even the slog of Belphegor's swamp,
or the field of chivalry
where other knights dare challenge him,
Nothing will impede the quest for his princess.

His confidence: his steed,
His willpower: his armor,
but his Excalibur is nothing more than his desire,
to which cuts down everything that obstructs his way.
The fire blazing in his heart
immolates his entire being,
The trailblazer will charge toward his princess.

But quietly, the silver snake rattles behind him.
With each link, it constricts:
tightening, choking, draining,
Frantic he turns,
desperately reaching to find this adversary.
The scaly one skulks through unnoticed
but ever present it stalks his pray,
And finally after binding his beloved freedom,
His princess is left waiting


Metallic wheezes of his steed
scratch through the air like nails on a chalkboard,
littered on the bloodstained grass
lay shattered remains of his breastplate torn asunder.
His most treasured blade now dulled,
incapable of cutting through the thirst of his ambition
The knight is draped across the floor,
a doormat to an abandoned home,
With his final breath his last thoughts are of his Rapunzel,
as his torch finally extinguishes.

Petite, pixie tangerine
As mawkish as the taste of something saccharine
Ludicrous, gawky pair of vague hoops
Forbidden with the cheapest boos

Body's wrapped in a fiery Mongolian coat
Personality-shelves loaded with gloat
She is made of silver and gold
Though in three hundred and sixty-five days,
She had lost courage, had lost hope

The juvenile decided to go red in rust
Like her heart, her blood, her wrath, and her pampers
She puffily cries for help and for the pity,
For the exposed and the logical ******,
Thereby, her cheekbones bulged inhumanely,
Stock-still, specked with a festoon of Simper

Such an extravagant trailblazer
A Sangria wine in hand and a fruit ****
With a similar gleam of her deep, raspberry gloss
And the way her chapped lips touched the rim,
It's not as fascinating as it seems,
Because she knows on her part that her heart is lost

Only an artists​ knows about
Dancing lights
Lonesome fights
the lurid phase of darker nights
Dead silence
Unspoken perseverance.

Only an artist see through
Real beauty of every heart
In fact, second side of every ****
Everyone sees blues
He remains imaginative toward life's hues
That's what makes him an nightly trailblazer
Inquisitive to self made problems and a decipher.

An Artist feels the dialects of wind and how it cleaves
What it says and how much weight it carries
Every rain summer and winter passes by under the eye of his heart,
Through heart of his art,
If he could feel the way it is,
He can shape up to the way as he wishes.

Methought, it was a game of mind
I gotta know when i by myself entangled
For me, it's like eat sleep and imagine
None next than burning myself on clock's trine
I found peace of day at 3 am
Picture of an fictitious world exist at right burial
Of all animal
Into bed for some time.
If I talk about pain healer?
If I talk about motivator?
What if I talk about gumptional trap?
No, all are lies for you unless
If you don't want to feel, heal or be a muse

You don’t love me
You haven’t even met me
You can’t love me
You’ve only seen me in parts
It’s not your fault
Yellow me can be so loud
I like her most
She floats through life like a game
She made me friends
Nice and easy to look at
She is simple
You’ve probably met red me
I can’t hide her
If I tried she would riot
She’s a leader
Motivated and spunky
A trailblazer
She’s new in my life, for sure
I’m glad she came
Perhaps you’ve passed by purple
She’s a bit odd
A writer, a romantic
She's writing this
She sees everything we do
Through rose glasses
She wants beauty in all things
She keeps searching
For some higher meaning
Purple is naive
Though I fight her blue seeps through
Too many see her
Blue builds up til she breaks out
She weighs me down
She is guilt, self doubt and tears
She’s pitiful
I despise her, but she stays
Blue seeks escape
Few have seen the storm in me
Gray is vicious
She's erratic, she destroys
She's hardly seen
Those who have wish they didn't
Gray brings torment
Even I cannot love Gray
But Gray is me
No one has loved all of me
So why would you
Now before you profess love
Please, remember
You can't love just one color

At night I close my eyes and dreams are morbid
And Nightmarish nights turn to mournin mornings,
As I toss and turn,
I'm wide awake in this coma
Dreams crash and burn ,
I'm more Bart than Homer,
A trouble maker lookin for an audience,
Or the vindicator for this awful gaudiness
A fallen gladiator that refuse to call it quits,
The great debator to the proof of godliness,
A trailblazer despite my Mike Conleyness,
A heart breaker in relationships,
undertaker when it comes showmanship,
In this time of need some chose to watch like the view from my skinny wrist,
these life choices I choose come with plenty risk,
Its ten past anxiety,
A quarter to dyin,
Its half past my misery ,
And I'm almost an hour early for this journey to Zion,

Joseph said..
"The skys the limit and that's what they told the ****** fool,
I disguise my limits so I'm aiming for the sun and moon"
But peep
The sun watches all I do ,
the moon know all my secrets,
My bed knows who I am at night,
My mirror knows my weakness,
These clothes cover my scars,
(My)hearts the reason for this thesis ,
My pillow knows when I cry,
My brain knows I'm a genius,
I am not my hair, 
Feelings not welcome here,
I dont ever care,
Let me take this time to share...

I'm bigger than my body,
I'm colder than this home,
I'm meaner than my demons,
I'm bigger than my bones,
I'm sure enough to know better
I'm doubting the unknown
I'm old enough for new endeavors,
But I'm cold enough alone

Im tanning in the eternal sunshine of my spotless mind.
I'm relapsing and im napping on this bed of lies,
I'm planning different ways for mama son to shine,
I'm collapsing and unpacking my decisions are unwise,
At times I cant stand myself, I be paraplegic, 
Still want the fair one with my demons, 
Lord knows they deserve a good beating,
J hova spoke to me , and I been sparring with jesus,
After the bout, I ask what his pops been askin bout,
As he spoke, I stamp and shout, almost walked out
The more I knew the more I wish I didnt,
The more I saw the more I wish I didn't have to see,
but I realized what was bein Asked of me , as for me?
I wonder if God charge late fees ,
I wonder if moses would shop at Macy's ,
I wonder if Judas care about the babies,
I wonder if kids see ghost like Patrick Swayze,
I wonder if Allah accept collect calls ,
I wonder when karma comin to collect costs ,
I wonder if you know what it means ,
To only see the bad in goodbyes, 
Or to the good in bad habits
The love in the lies
Or that evil is a talent. ©️

Disappointed? By what?
Because I won't follow you blindly?
You had plans, and I broke them,
shattered like your dreams.
Call me rebellious or independent,
a trailblazer if you will,
but all I am is me,
The plans of mine I will fulfill.
Let me be free,
let me sow these seeds,
the sprouts of success,
You will see,
What it means to be me.

Her and her indomitable will
She’ll bend and burn, and will stay still
For she, who can endure, can conquer
The patient, is the hopeful growing flowers
A squat in the storm, a breeding of power
A trailblazer who can also be a follower
And in time, you’ll see
What an ache of a disciplined could be
Beneath the curves of a tired bending body
The prize of her and her indomitable will

Let's sing a tale of honor and valor,
Of a legal trailblazer who always will be
Etched in our hearts as a fighter for causes
And known as Notorious RBG.

Criticized and sharply rebuked
For taking a "man's spot" at Harvard Law,
She had a legal intellect
And a glowing work ethic that left folks in awe.

Graduating first in her class
From Columbia Law, she would soon learn
That getting a job wouldn't be easy;
And unequal pay was a major concern.

The fearless fighter wouldn't give up.
Bound and determined, she'd do what was right
And struggle for women's equality.
Justice for all was her noble fight.

Nobody's put on a pedestal;
Equality means that treatment's the same.
That BOTH men and women have full
Citizenship stature was RBG's aim.

Her friendship with Justice Scalia showed
That politics did not have to divide us--
That we can conquer our disagreements
By letting our heart and wisdom guide us.

Words are important when sending a message.
That is what RBG took to heart.
In facing personal challenges,
Her inner strength played such a great part.

For many years she battled cancer
But never failed to keep up with her work.
Responsibility and duty
Were two things that you didn't shirk.

Ruth Bader Ginsburg: how we will miss her!
With sadness and heavy hearts we lament.
How we will miss her carefully thought-out
Rulings as well as her words of dissent!

She died on the eve of Rosh Hashanah
While folks were in the synagogues praying.
They say that righteous people die then.
With RBG, that goes without saying.

Remember this tale of honor and valor,
Of a legal trailblazer who always will be
Etched in our hearts as a fighter for causes:
Supreme Court Justice RBG.

-by Bob B (9-22-20)

He was the black sheep of the family. He wasn't bad but he wanted more; while the rest of his siblings settled. He had his own unique style and got criticized for it he was the oldest of 6. He didn't follow but he was a trailBlazer. They knocked him but he kept going forward. His family was not rich but family did judge them and looked down on them. He was hard working strived for more. He would not settle for less or lower himself to be accepted. He enjoyed giving his all and bringing out the best in others.
As he got older his mind gathered knowledge and wiser up. He is always battling comparing himself to who he was and who he has become. He asked questions and prepared for the task since its always an obstacle. Things come natural or learned quickly because he doesn't like relying on anyone. He never made excuses but dived in willing to conquer make it his own.
He was motivated to move up and strive to improve.

Rainfall brings so much clarity
amplifying absence
creating space for quiet weather
and crisp evening skin feel appreciation

the rain is heavy down
but will let up
she is a trailblazer
a perspective paradigm

embodiment of change, need, rest, force, release, and control
the rain is change
a shallow experience of temporary depth
tumultuous girl

there is no one like her
yet here i am

If you are reading this
Join me in eulogising her
For nine months she carried me
Gave me exclusive breastfeeding
Nurtured me without a price
She could have terminated my pregnancy
But she knew she carried a star
A trailblazer and economic reformer
Don't you wish your Mum was fine like mine?
She is my god in human flesh
She is my friend, my mentor
I appreciate all your love
Youe sacrifices will not be in vain
I will strive and hit the mark
And one day, you'll be proud of me
Thank you for being my Heroine
Surely, you are the world's best  Mum

It's been fun knowing you,
Fellow traveller.
You, a princess from the galactic highs
And i, a cold cosmic trailblazer.
Both hitchhiking to the end of infinity
To seek our purposes.
You, a warrior lost in the stormy sea
And i, a lonely light house at distances
Both finding momentary solace
From the cold gales of reality.
Yet, somewhere along the horizon
We shall part
As all roads do, as all things do.
So i say to you, my galactic princess,
In the oblivion i shall scribe
"Thank you
Thank you for the laughs
Thank you for the talks
Thank you for the journey
Thank you for the story
My dear eenie."

I am a fine piece of armour
Curated by the finest Goldsmith
Who created the heavens without pillars
And the earth without walls

I am a fine piece of art
Moulded by the greatest Porter
The One who knew me before my before
And ordained me exploits

Of over six billion inhabiting planet earth
You singled me our for glory
As a trailblazer and world shaker
May I not disappoint destiny

I might be in my raw state now
HE is preparing me at the backstage
Soon my cloud will open
And my rain will fall
Amen

I am me because I expressive to the point that people call me crazy. I was the girl that everyone talked about in college, high school and middle school. Basically I never worried about being bored.
I am me because every time I got hurt or betrayed by someone I bounced back stronger than before. I was always controversial no matter where I went since I am mentally disabled, emotionally expressive, a trailblazer, a vagabond, a writer, a singer/songwriter and nerdy.
I am me because I don't ask for attention. I don't care what people think of me because it's trivial and fickle. Everyone wants to be my friend but I have boundaries that are specifically meant to protect me. I never wanted to be the girl that people get confused by but I got used to it.
I am me even with all of my scars. I never asked anything from anyone. I just wanted an emotional safe place with whoever I spent time with. The things I wanted from people are simple: my secrets secure, my heart protected and quality time with the people I care about. I don't care about money, status, how many followers are on your Facebook page, ***, and politics.
I care about your soul, your heart and what goes on in your mind.

Born to the way of the wind
To spread wings and know
The life of the skies
To hear its wind song
to see the majesty
In the eternal clockwork
Of sun and stars

Ages pass like silent machinery
As the world below
Ebbs and flows
Along with the whims and designs
Of life breathing its births and deaths
Expelling the weary
Whisper in the new bright-eyed youth
that is the way of life
the way of the wind
And the world without care
Breaths on and on

He was born to be
that adventurer
Born to the way of the wind
Intrepid and carefree
He tread the sky like a trailblazer
Painter, Poet, Troubadour and Wiseman
Now we wait with him
To see what path is yet to come
Now we all await carefree
The choosing of our own
Way of the wind