We float this concrete river
as trees go about their day around us
Visitors, we are just passing through
to nowhere in particular.
What we seek we may never find
or even recognize.
Still, we paddle on,
subconscious cartographers exploring
every fork we come across
finding our way home.

The haystack is the needle and the iceberg is compact
Scions of attrition tremble before the contract
Jaundiced world-weary tears lament the frailty of days and the evanescence of years
Senescence a cruel destruction, distracting garish comfort escorting the fears
Displaced and forlorn love beckons a second chance
Itinerant hopes know no commitment to simple embezzled parlance
Of dice and kin, nepotism’s high-roller antics are the linchpin
Frittered patience staking its bets on internecine dynamics of skin
Affirmative traction of disenfranchised hopes rests on fallow seasons
Traduced mirage tantalizes until the activation of regaled treasons
Shock wed with dismay appoints the tutelage of prestidigitation
Juggled triage aborts an unborn reason and anoints intimidation
Aliens flummox the borders to enlist a new world disorder
Trailblazers succumb to lawlessness and for every dollar gained we lose a quarter
Chaos checkmates as power rests from decrepit hands foisting the meretricious brand
Cattle scorched and sheep scattered as the broken hourglass can no longer count sand
Time toppled serenaded by applause canned
Toppled pyramids blind the eye of providence in the hour of unheralded prominence
The terror of history unfurls the efflorescence of piracy as ghosts work to subvert the invisible hand
Next dictums emerge that say supply on command, and entropy desecrates the land
Phone home to arm the putsch, clone home for aliens we push
Revisionism subverts the instruction of years and empowers the apotheosis of fear and the fourth ***** of George W. Bush
Dynasties envy the anonymity of a bald-eagle cabal of skinhead guffaw
Irascible genocide cavorts under the premise of shock and awe
The lullaby of morons is flinching assent to the supremacy of the unelected and unassailable tyrants
Discarding covenants on the principle of principality and counting on every knight to become errant
Pyrrhic victory of the perverted cross corrals the flock
Openly announced secrets enable the aliens to dock
At the port they are greeted as the victors and granted not only amnesty but indemnity
They brandish the unprecedented concept of an enumerated infinity
To amuse the zero-sum victory they author a new history of utilitarianism dethroning deontology
To the future readers they make contrite apologies
But when the races of men are annihilated by the evil Zen boasting of its utilitarian ken
The rubble of time cannot ascertain exactly how or when
But on the dreaded hour the virus will conspire to elect the most reproachable power
When panic reaches crescendo all the sugar in the world cannot but help to taste anything but sour
Abort the tyrannical machine no matter how convincingly it preens
No matter how much bunkum elevates the enchanting prevarication while concealing the affairs behind the scenes
Voting for balkanized splinters designed to weather the winter sustains the monopoly of sophistry
Ballyhoo saturates the airwaves and suddenly catcalling becomes gallantry
Tune out the pulpit, divest the culprit and impugn systemic venality
Dismantle the verisimilitude of shadows and hoist a giant mirror to reflect stark realities
Cue the curtains fall, the specters grow tall, and the clout is daunted by establishment doubt
The skeletonized truth severs the root but the behemoth armed to the teeth wages a bout
Cartels conspire with arms and fire and resurrect stodgy tenets to prowl like an army of vampires
To feed a fatuous superstition and to empower a censorship of convenience to enthrone a dark empire
Cunning preponderance enlists divisive shills to let the ghastly thriller exact its thrills
Occult obscurantism funds the vulnerable and tramples over the outspoken to actuate its will
Hopes dashed, stocks crashed and strife abundant
Generational dissonance revokes the incumbents
Chapter one of this unsung war come and gone
Stay tuned for the next addendum to see what is lost and who has won.

Loving me is like a cold front. I am scared of fire I can not control and you burn too hot for me. I can not see through your smoke and I am choking on your promises but it is my own fault because I let you think I was a volcano when I am an alp. Still, I grip your embers hoping if I burn off my finger prints I can be somebody new, somebody who is not killing themselves trying to love you. I want to be strong because weak hurts, and I want to kiss you and feel fireworks but all we get is steam. You are not my element and we are not star-crossed just incompatible. I am addicted to the burns you have inflicted on me: I feel them fade in your absence and I miss their sting. I like being reminded that you hurt me, I like being reminded that you touched me once. That you looked at my jagged edges and dared to grab on knowing like glass I could shatter but trusting that I wouldn't: you liked me to believe I was strong. I thought we were perfect for each other and I get stuck in our memories. I can only remember your perfections, and the little things about you until I can only smile because nobody knows fire like I do. I let you take everything I had but I can not control you. You rage through everything; brashly burning paths that aren't familiar to me and you don't want me anymore, you make me wonder if you ever did because you seem to like having me watch. Watch you love other people properly. Watch you finally blaze in the life you've always wanted. I am only trying to rebuild my snowy disposition but you keep lighting me on fire. I don't like fire I can not control.

The land was a body.  Aching bones of mountains limned with boreal forest
       veined with iron.

Men dwelt on the body.  Erecting altars, howling and dancing round fires
        their patriarchal beards knotted and waving

Men killed on the body. Waving crude axes  like ancient trailblazers of war
Would wave mammoth club-like femurs

Bodies slay different bodies so they may die somewhere on this body
That heaves with the rock

Who was the first one to say
“**** it”?
To put his ******* up in the air
and scream 
“**** THE SYSTEM”
at the top of his lungs?

To chop off her hair and wear pants,
while whispering
“**** gender roles”
as she washed her newly chopped hair
and didn’t shave her legs.

Who was the first to stand up to the man
and fall on his knees before him
as he was shot down for saying
“go **** yourself”
because that was what
he firmly believed in.

Who were the revolutionaries that
inspired the revolutionaries we know of today?
And who will be the new rebels that blare
“**** the police”
as they drive down their drug torn streets,
hoping that today wasn’t going to be their last.

Who were the first people to go
“**** it, I’m out” and
jump off the ledge,
tie the noose,
or point a pistol to their head?

Who were the trailblazers?
The ones who keyed the terms
“**** it” and “*******”
“**** this” or “**** that”

Who was the first woman that
made a man look at her and say
“****.”
And how do you manage
to have that effect on me?

Who are you to make me say
“**** it” and
drive 3 hours to see you
when I have school the next morning?

Who are you to make me say
“**** the system” as I
try to convince you to skip class
to come and see me for a couple days?

Who are you to say

“**** gender rolls”
and make guy’s jeans realize
that they never would’ve looked as good
on guys as they do on you.

Who are you to say
“go **** yourself”
when they told you that
you couldn’t be you
even though you know who you are.

Who are you to say
“**** the police”
while you race 90 miles per hour
down the interstate
and put your lips to a joint
as you put them to mine?

Who are you to say
“**** it, I’m out”
and leave me with my
heart in hand and
a bottle of Bacardi in the other?

Who are you to
stand out and say
“**** it” and “*******”
“**** this” or “**** that”

How can you lie in front of me
and lie in front of me
saying that you don’t give a ****
when I can’t help but whisper ****
under my breath every time I see you

Yet you still don’t understand
that you’re the one ******* up
my heart and ******* up
my thoughts while ******* me
and I won’t say **** this
because I’m too ****** up
to just say **** it.

The
trailblazers
hellraisers want to learn to fly, but first must learn to try and not begrudge the birds their wings or beaks or things.
It's each to his own and birds have flown for centuries
while man looked on quite jealously,
until
Wilbur and Orville an unlikely looking pair, built a weird looking craft that flew into the air
and there the story lies.
Man
no longer separated from the skies but flying catatonic,supersonic,chronically intoxicated by machines that he's created.

It will all come to pass that when we run out of kerosene and natural gas,
we'll recognise that flying free is but a dream and then we'll see that wings are meant for birds
and no amount of whirlygigs,tornadoes,migs can change the fact
that we were made to walk.

With their new awards show - VH1 Big In 2015 with Entertainment Weekly - the network aimed to 'highlight the trailblazers and epic pop culture moments of the year.'

So it was no surprise then that Taraji P. Henson, 45, was one of the program's honorees for her unforgettable work as Cookie Lyon on Fox's smash hit Empire.

Taraji looked stunning as she arrived at Pacific Design Center in West Hollywood, California on Sunday for the celebration, flashing some skin in a fitted black Alexander **** dress.

Taraji wore a sleeveless, black dress for the event that hugged the Fox star's curves while showing off her toned pins.

The flattering number also featured a laced-up, cut-out along the side of the dress that added some edge to the look with a flash of skin.

She coupled the look with a pair of studded, strappy black heels, and donned a pair of dramatic, dangling earrings.

She showed off bold eyeliner for the event, as well as big lashes and a complimentary mauve lipstick.

Taraji's brunette tresses were styled in gorgeous, wild curls, and the actress looked to be in good spirits as she hit the carpet, showing off a big grin and at one point even blowing a kiss.

Amy Schumer was also being honored at the event after her stellar year that included the success of her comedy Trainwreck.

The 34-year-old smoldered in a form-fitting red gown, which she coupled with a pair of coordinating red pumps.

The flattering number featured three-quarter length sleeves and was fitted to show off the comedian's trim figure.

She wore her long, blonde tresses styled straight for the show, and showed off a smoky eye and a dark manicure.

Amy was joined on the carpet by her sister Kimberly Schumer, who wore a sleeveless, bright blue mini dress that showed off her toned pins.

She coupled the playful frock with a pair of strappy, black heels, and wore her long, brunette locks in soft curls.

Amber Rose, 32, put her ample assets on display in a figure-hugging mini dress as she arrived at the Pacific Design Center.

The model wore a long-sleeved black mini dress which featured a plunging front and also highlighted her toned pins.

She coupled the daring number with a pair of strappy, black heels, and hid her eyes behind over-sized, black sunglasses.

Pitch Perfect 2 director and star Elizabeth Banks, 41, wore a textured black dress with a semi-sheer skirt and bow-shaped cut-out along the front.

The eye-catching dress hit at just above the actress's knees, and she coupled the look with strappy, peep-toe black heels.

She accessorized with a coordinating, black clutch, and wore her long, blonde tresses pulled back into a chic updo, with curled, wisps of hair falling around to frame her face.

Queen Latifah, 45, and Katherine Bailess, 35, both opted for stylish, black jumpsuits for the awards show, though the former wore long sleeves while the latter opted for a one-shoulder look.

Katherine finished off her look with a pair of peep toe heels that showed off a dark pedicure, and wore her long, blonde locks in soft waves.

She accessorized with a pair of dangling earrings, and added a pop of color to her look with a bright red lipstick.

Parks And Recreation alum Aubrey Plaza, 31, stunned in a form-fitting, white mini dress that featured metallic embellishments, and she coupled it with chunky, black heels.

Elle King, 26, meanwhile, was a bit more colorful in a pretty floral dress, though she added a bit of edge to her look with a black, leather jacket.

Master of None star Aziz Ansari, 32, looked dapper in a fitted, black suit worn with brown leather oxfords and a bright, pink patterned tie.

T.I. - host for the VH1 and Entertainment Weekly event - looked stylish in an all-black ensemble that he accessorized with Aviators and a bold, silver necklace.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-melbourne

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I know back roads and bonfires.
I know pine trees and rivers.
I know parking lots and cigarettes.
I know trailers and trailblazers.

The day I was born I was wrapped in dust,
it coated my skin and made me sneeze.
I was laid down on a bed of dust and my nose began to bleed, it hasn't stopped.

In school we'd throw a tennis ball against a wall, we'd run through the field, we didn't have swings, we didn't have a soccer ball.
We read from dusty books, we inhaled the words and dust alike.

In high school we drove fast down back roads. We drank beer and started a fire. We swam in the rivers and smoked doobies on the rocks.
These are the things I know.
I know this small town, I know the people in it, I know the trees and I know the back roads.
I don't know heartbreak.
I don't know alcoholism.
I don't know anything that is not covered in dust, I don't know anything beyond this valley.

Defied gravity,changed the game’s formalities and all you have to say is mentality. For the lord of the rings mastery to appear images of 81, a man who shots ended so many suns and trailblazers. Your impact was nothing short of a Big Bang crater, a creator to so many future hoop legends that’s why I’m writing “Dear heaven” cause he did more for us than any lakers possession. A father even in the end, I salute as your jersey ascends there will never be another bean Bryant again.

Shouts out to the post modern ironic twisted ***** of confusion making sense of a chaotic existence

Shouts out the the same folks for laughing at their own struggle

Shouts out to the bleeding hearts

Shouts out to the dried up stones

Shouts out to the snarky *** momentary breaks from the void that they carry alone

Shouts out to the religious castaways, to the tradition breakers

Shouts out to the tradition keepers, and the self evaluators

Shouts out to the pathfinders and the trailblazers

Shouts out to the lack of motivation and the desire to be admired

Shouts out to mania driven fervor satiated not even by approval

Shouts out to calculated efforts and spontaneity as a ruse

Shouts out to reused tropes and cliches strung together again and again in different orders

Shouts out to all living as peninsulas, carving themselves off as islands.

delayed, service changed
we are the trailblazers
struggling through stone and soil
and motor oil slicks,
slip on the gap
WATCH IT!

we are the city rats,
scurrying between streets,
along rails that could **** us
and that have.
service changes, trains collide
we take deep breaths, and swipe,

we cant swim so we'll slide
through sunken subway lines.
at show time we'll roll our eyes
but smile on the sly.
we're in this **** together
so delays aside, we ride.

Rare gems born of Mankind gifts to humanity.
Perfections of heaven's creations.
Angels with hidden wings earth's tenants.
Like petals of flowers pride of the garden,
As to irokos the standing glories of the forest,
So they are in the land of men exalted.

They are tenacious, judicious, meticulous and courageous.
Lovable, adorable, teachable but indomitable.
As melody to songs,
Music to souls,
And Whispers to evening wind.
So they are to mother June.

Gentle and kind sophisticated and phenomenal.
Their hearts are but of gold and ways divine.
They are road pointers, Motion movers,
Light bearers and trailblazers.
They are attention commanders, collections of respect.
Epitomes of beauty narrations of handsome tales.

They are the codeless code of pleasure locked in a wordless wonder,
The hive of treasure no dragon can plunder.
We are the Junites born of mankind,
Gifts to humanity.
HAPPY BIRTH MONTH TO ALL THE JUNE BABIES.

Oh, Francis and Obama has left their mark.
They been different than those before.
They take on the establishment with their views.

Giving perspective that challenge many.
After all, many think those positions, are symbols?
But with the president and the Pope, it's more.

Churches lives, within this limited view.
They preach love.
They also preach hate.
Then tries to cover it up with various outlook.

Afraid to accept things, just might be the way it been taught.
Where many just repeating things down through the history without comprehending others has added their views?

And the president surrounded by fools.
Who cave into any threat of not getting a vote?
Without realizing society's changing and will continue too.

A fact realized, by the president an the pope.

Oh, trailblazers that shock the world.
All because various citizens couldn't dictate to them.

Praise my ancestors
Forced to be trailblazers
Taught by fear and terror

Forgetting instilled customs
Living off of acquired customs
Battling intensely with the house ******

Mutated complexion gene
Forgetting the respect of the field ******
True to our roots still

Grounded...
Yet...

Freedom yells confirmation repeatedly

Come get me
I am here

Free the slave
Free the man
Free the woman
Free the children

Freedom yells confirmation repeatedly

Come get me
I am here

Portland persistence
Japanese garden grace
     Resistance race

sitting through a lightning storm:
i "think" i blinked twice...
come lightning: come thunder...
the deities' empty stomachs:
hungry for a sacrifice... something
requires to be eaten...

Slayer's i want to be your god...

i do... feel like a demigod...
not even *** matches up to the sensation
of chilling out during a lightning-thunder
storm...

i don't even need drugs: just delusions...
but by now: perhaps these are not delusions...
just imaginary drugs...
false beliefs? isn't that what Plato
asked Hercules of?

that conversation must have taken place:
somewhere between Mars and Jupiter...

Jeffrey Dahmer met his caricature:
i.e. Napoleon Dynamite...
and tried to laugh: but was met with
impotence of the mantis / oyster cult
of the ******...

i'll admit it though... curious... eerie looking...
bewildered... women:
oh... i didn't see you in the club...
because i was taking my Maine **** ginger
prize to the vet...
all the other cats arrived in cages...
mine? dearest Quarus...
on my lap...

    exasperating himself with heavy breathing...
do cats even have the capacity of dogs
to sweat by drooling?!
apparently they have...
if you over-excite them with:
undiscovered geography...

so i was sitting there... in the waiting room:
shh shh... hush hush darling...
curb our excitement...
like a Don Corleone...
best movie ever... star wars...
lord of the rings can hide in the shades
of the doppelgangers...
eh... mmm... just the hand movement:
the laconic: whatever...

so there he is... sitting in my lap...
hush hush... shh shh... stroking his forehead...
his nose...
under-stroking his... "chin"?!
and he's sitting pretty...
at only 8.4kg... he's still the biggest cat
in the practice...
aw... what a pretty tiger...
great! so now i have a ***** in my hands
and he's getting more attention than i will
ever get... great!

too bad he didn't freak out and didn't
start scratching the women...
either side of me...
   one with a poodle on a leash...
another with a timid rabbit...

personally? i rather take that poodle for a walk...
and feed that rabbit raw carrots and cabbage...
but there i am...
sitting pretty... my cat's not in a cage:
it could pounce any time soon...
i'm
   Don Corleone...
     i'm Azog the white orc with his
pet: that warg matriarch...
hey... i live in "fantasy" land... i stopped watching
television...
who else owned cats?!
Dr. No?             Dr. Evil?
      
i am: but then i correct myself:
there's no "i think" materialisation to counter-contend
my insinuations...
ergo? i am a multitude of "delusions"...
i also "think" that by simply "existing"
is a delusion...
it must be: it would be more authentic if i had
a repeated dream...
if my dreams were heavily: prone
to visual fabrications...

            i don't think i'd even bother to make myself:
question...
but since all my dreams i see in black:
perhaps the chance audio:
    i step back and "think":
   not all is right...
                        
  from the greatest horrors of the 20th century:
came... the greatest... creative: trailblazers...
but now?
    that's why the 20th century is so, unique!
what's that spider-man quote?
with great power... comes great responsibilities...
no horror: no imagination...
hello: Damoscl sword... just... dangling...

i'm a mediocre whoever in a time: whatever...
i "think" i'm special only because...
i live in very... mediocre times...
i know it's a delusion...
  but it's not a false belief...
            i still do belong to the 20th century...
i find myself at an age that allows me to be:
rather than become:
un-relatable to the youth...
  the world has moved on...
           everything moves on... yet returns
come noon or midnight... whatever...

i see it as the exceptional counter of art:
without exceptional suffering there will never be
an exceptional creativity...
unless i'm running solo...
     and i'm the only exhibit of creativity
and there: truly is... genuine suffering in this
world: without all the worldly constraints
akin to tapeworms...and earthquakes...

and the limitless music of...
the sound of men's necks breaking at the noose
from hanging themselves...

müdeseelen hören es erste!
tired-souls hear it first...

           und was reihe von auswahl!
and what an array of choice!

               me and my German fetish...
please! dearest god or stone:
array me with... a: dreamless night!            

gott oder stein!
     gott oder berg!
    stein an stein an stein an stein...
ich fast vergessen die meere!

                                versöhnlichsprache:
the English have nothing to do with it...
i just want to distance myself from the Russians...
because? they're being *******...

der erste... das letzte:
   der durst!
             und hunger!
das pinke: aber nicht flamingo!
    kapieren?!
                 kapieren?! n'ah: nicht kapieren!
"kapieren" ist: tod erste:
erste / durst / erste / durst...
              teuflischluftspiegelungen
von verloren liebe;

  for once: i will not translate!
                                      aus! *****! end!
das ist es!                                das ende!