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judy smith Apr 2015
The Pakistan Fashion Design Council in collaboration with Sunsilk presented the fourth and final day of the eighth PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week. Indeed the 8th PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week marked the twelfth fashion week platform initiated by the Pakistan Fashion Design Council [with eight weeks of prêt-à-porter and four of bridal fashion] and was a direct manifestation of the Council’s commitment to sustainability and discipline within the business of fashion and the facilitation of Pakistan’s retail industry. Indeed #PSFW15 endeavoured to define and present trends for 2015, focusing specifically on fashion for the regions’ long hot summer months. Day-4 featured High-Street Fashion shows by the House of Arsalan Iqbal, Erum Khan, Chinyere and Hassan Riaz and designer prêt-à-porter shows by Sana Safinaz, Republic by Omar Farooq, Syeda Amera, Huma & Amir Adnan, Sania Maskatiya and HSY.

Speaking about the PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week platform, Chairperson of the PFDC, Sehyr Saigol said: “With the 12th iteration of our critically acclaimed fashion weeks, the PFDC is always working to streamline our prêt-à-porter platform to make the PSFW experience more beneficial for all stakeholders in terms of show experience, exposure and ultimately, retail value. To that end, each year we look inward to find the best possible formats and categories to benefit the very trade and business of fashion. In this vein, we introduced 3 separate categories for Luxury/Prêt, High Street and Textile at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week, giving each entirely separate show space, times, audience exposure and viewing power. Our High Street fashion brands had been given a standalone show time on two separate days as early evening shows and Textile brands a separate dedicated day for Voile shows on Day 3 of PSFW 2015, a measured step to further highlight Pakistan’s textile prowess and high street fashion strength which are of significant importance to national and international fashion markets. As per past tradition, we continue to work closely with all our emerging designers and mainstream brands to help hone their collections for the runway through mentorship by senior PFDC Council members and with retail support through the PFDC’s own stores and network. We are grateful for the committed support of our sponsors and partners which provides us the stimulus to further enhance our fashion week platforms and put forth the best face of Pakistani fashion on a consistent basis.”

“The Sunsilk girl is an achiever, with an air of enthusiasm and positivity. Great hair can give her the extra dose of confidence so with Sunsilk by her side, she is empowered to take on life. Fashion is very close to this aspirational Pakistani girl making the PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week a highly valued platform for us. We recognize PFDC’s efforts to promote the fashion industry and experienced and upcoming talent alike. Sunsilk has been a part of this fantastic journey for 6 consecutive years and continues to shape aspirations, taking contemporary fashion directly to the homes of consumers and encouraging them to script their own stories of success” said Asanga Ranasinghe, VP Home and Personal Care for Unilever Pakistan.

On the concluding day of #PSFW15, the Chairperson of the PFDC Mrs. Sehyr Saigol also made a special announcement on behalf of the Council and its Board Members, where she shared the Council’s plans to establish Pakistan’s first ever craft based Design District, a multi-purpose specialized facility that would assist in developing and enhancing the arts and crafts industries, which are an integral part of Pakistan’s rich cultural legacy. In addition to being a centre for skill improvement and capacity building, the Design District would also house a first of its kind Textile Museum.

The official spokesperson of the PFDC, Sara Shahid of Sublime by Sara also announced the official dates for the Council’s next fashion week, PFDC L’Oréal Paris Bridal Week 2015 which is scheduled to be held from 15th September to 17th September 2015.

Indeed the success of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week continued to prompt private sector associates to grow in their engagement of the platform to launch new marketing campaigns and promotional activities. To this end, the PFDC’s evolving partnership with Sunsilk grew exponentially this year whereby in addition to their title patronage; Sunsilk also took over the coveted PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week red carpet and the Green Room/Backstage, as sponsors. This extension of their support is indeed a manifestation of the brand’s belief in and commitment to the platform. Also in continuation of their support for the platform, Fed Ex – GSP Pakistan Gerry’s International returned to PSFW as the official logistics partner, offering the PFDC a special arrangement for international designer consignments.

PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 was styled by the creative teams at Nabila’s and NGENTS. Light design, set design, sound engineering, video packaging, choreography and show production from concept to construction was by HSY Events, front stage management by Maheen Kardar Ali, backstage management by Product 021, Sara Shahid of Sublime by Sara as the official spokesperson for the PFDC, logistics and operations by Eleventh Experience and photography by Faisal Farooqui and the team at Dragonfly, Hum TV/Hum Sitaray as the Official Media Partners, CityFM89 as the Official Radio Partners with all media management by Lotus Client Management & Public Relations.

High-Street Fashion Shows

The House of Arsalan Iqbal

The afternoon High-Street Fashion Shows on the final day of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 were opened by leading fashion brand The House of Arsalan Iqbal, who showcased a collection titled ‘Devolution Chic’. Inspired by street art across the world by various artists, European high-street trends and technique of quilting, Arsalan Iqbal garnered personal portfolios of graffitists from myriad urban cityscapes such as London, New York, Tokyo, Barcelona and Cape Town, juxtaposed with some unique in-house created patterns including those of Pac-man, calligraphic flourishes and aqua and tangerine bands and circlets. Based in chiffon, the ensembles were molded into voluminous structured silhouettes including draped tunics, edgy jumpsuits and wide palazzos dovetailed with off-white and ecru charmeuse silk jackets created with a revolutionary quilting process. Along with menswear pieces, the collection also included in-house footwear and jewellery made in collaboration with pioneering Karachi-based street artist SANKI.

Erum Khan

Designer Erum Khan followed next and made her PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week debut with ‘The Untainted Shine’. The collection took its inspiration from the sparkle of twinkling stars, a walk on pearl dew in the morning and the enchanted glow which is produced when “a magic wand” is waved around the body, making it glow in a pearlescent white and exhibiting a jewel themed lustre on the body. With neat and straight structured cuts, Erum had used fabrics such as organza combined with silk, 3D flowers, patch work and antique katdanna in a collection which was based in a white colour palette. Trends highlighted in the collection were high waist skirts to button up pants and sheer long dresses. Acclaimed Pakistani musician Goher Mumtaz and his wife Anam Ahmed walked the ramp as the designer’s celebrity showstoppers.

Chinyere

Following Erum Khan, fashion brand Chinyere showcased its Spring/Summer 2015 High-Street collection ‘Mizaj-e-Shahana’ at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015. An ode to the era of the Mughal royalty and their imperial aesthetic, the collection comprised of modern silhouettes and traditional embellishments with organza skirts paired with cropped tops, angarkha-peplum tops with embellished cigarette pants, sheer knee-length jackets paired with structured digital printed bustier-jumpsuits, diaphanous wrap-around boot-cuts and embellished boxy sleeves with soft A-line silhouettes. Chinyere also showcased ten menswear pieces comprising of waistcoats, jodhpurs, knee-length sherwanis paired with gossamer sheer kurtas. The colours used had been divided into a collection of distinctive Mughalesque pastels and jewel tones. The pastels included the classic marble ivory-on-ivory, the bold black, saffron, gold and ivory. The colour segments also included metallic gold and grey sections, with accents of bronze and black. The jewel tones included jade, emerald, ruby and sapphire.

Hassan Riaz

The concluding High-Street fashion show of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 was presented by Hassan Riaz who showcased his ‘Contained Shadows’ collection. Inspired by the diverse facets of the human soul that explore both the dark and light sides of human nature, taking into account yearnings, desires, and anxieties that make us distinctly human, Hassan had based the collection in summer twill, organza and summer denim in shades of blue and white with a gold accent to reflect upon his inspirations. ‘Contained Shadows’ made use of structured and drifting silhouettes, cage crinolines with corsets and bustiers with distinct trends featuring cropped tops, nautical accents, experiments with transparency and patchworks of metal mixed & matched with flowers.

Designer Showcases

Sana Safinaz

PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015’s evening [rêt shows on the fourth and final day was opened by premier designer label Sana Safinaz. Sana Safinaz’s PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week collection was inspired by monochromatic structured looks with pops of color. The collection was based in luxe fabrics such as kattan, silks, fine silk organza and dutches satin in a colour palette majorly based in black and white with strong vibrant pop infusions.
Key trends being highlighted were the oversized T, constructions-clean lines, simplicity of cuts and effective embellishments.

Republic by Omar Farooq

Following Sana Safinaz, acclaimed menswear brand Republic By Omar Farooqshowcased a collection titled ‘Que Sera, Sera!’ (whatever will be, will be!). Omar Farooq had used a variety of luxe fabrics such as suede, linen, chiffon, cotton, cotton silk and wool silk. A collection for all seasons, the ensembles built upon the label’s signature aesthetics while providing a new take on contemporary menswear. Acclaimed media personality Fawad Khan walked the ramp as the brand’s celebrity showstopper.

Syeda Amera

The third Prêt show of the final day of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 was presented by designer Syeda Amera who made her ramp debut with ‘The World of Sea’. Inspired by love for the enchanting underwater, the collection was based in premium quality organza, jersey, nets and silks with delicate cuts and embellishments consisting of beads, sequins and feathers to reflect the collection’s aquatic theme. ‘The World of Sea’ featured a palette of aqua marine, scupa blue, powder pink, grey blue, tequila sunrise yellow, orange and lagoon green with trends that employed skirt layering, frills and ruffles and flared pants.

Huma & Amir Adnan

Following Syeda Amera, Huma & Amir Adnan showcased a joint collection for the first time at a fashion exhibition. Both Huma and Amir feel that as a couple they share their lives and draw synergies and their collection ‘Symphony’ was an epitome of how two people can revolve around the same concept in harmony, while maintaining their individual distinction. Showcasing both menswear and women’s wear at PSFW 2015, Huma and Amir had used a mix of fabrics, textures and embellishments with a complex collection of weaves, prints and embroideries in silk, linen, cotton and microfiber. The color palette included midnight blue, emerald green, wet earth, aubergine, ivory, old paper, turmeric, leaf and magenta. Key trends highlighted in the collection were long shirts, double layered shirts, printed vests and jackets, textured pants, colored shoes for men and layers of multi-textured fabrics, tighter silhouette, vests and jackets for women.

Sania Maskatiya

Designer Sania Maskatiya showcased the penultimate Luxury/Prêt collection of the evening at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015. This S/S ’15, Sania Maskatiya took audiences on a fashion journey to ‘Paristan’ – a place of fairytale whimsy at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week. With a colour palette ranging from the softest shades of daybreak to the deepest hues of nightfall, ‘Paristan’ was a collection of playful, dreamlike prêt ensembles. Featuring luxury fabrics like silk, organza, charmeuse and crepe, the pieces followed the brand’s signature silhouettes, both structured and fluid. Beads and sequins embellished varied hemlines and multiple layering, all set against captivating scenes of mirth and magic. Motifs ranged from the sublime to nonsensical; friendly mice and naughty elves, clocks and teapots, flowering fields and star-filled skies, princesses and ponies.

HSY

Day-4’s finale was presented by acclaimed couturier HSY who showcased a collection titled ‘INK’; a collection inspired by Asia and specifically HSY’s journeys to The Land of the Rising Sun. INK represented the essence of Langkawi, Indonesia, Nagasaki, and Yunnan with natural and indigenous yarns, hand-woven to perfection. The collection featured the traditional dyeing techniques of Shibori from Nagasaki, Batik from Indonesia, and Gara from Sierra Leone infused with mackintosh, saffron, aubergine, eggshell, rosette, indigo and ochre. Created with the scorching sub continental summer in mind, INK channelled versatile hemlines to suit a diversity of younger, older, working men, women and homemakers alike.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-brisbane
Amanda Newby Dec 2016
Dear Self,

For you it is November 9th, 2016. Despite all odds, Donald Trump is president. Mike Pence, governor of your home state of Indiana, is his VP.

You are 17 right now. You were born into a world run by George W. Bush. You spent your whole childhood hearing your parents yelling at the tv, angry at the Texas governor in the White House.

You grew up in Obamanation. You saw months of “YES WE CAN” and “CHANGE” stickers going up, and a magnet your family still has get put onto your refrigerator. You heard your mother’s sigh of relief when Barack Obama was announced the 44th president. That was half your lifetime ago.

You spent the last year following the campaigns. You were not surprised by Hillary Clinton running again. You “felt the Bern” of the somewhat radical Independent candidate previously unknown to you, Bernie Sanders. You laughed off the wild reality tv star Donald Trump’s campaign.

Months went by. Bernie and Hillary were fighting hard leading up to the primaries. Republicans slowly started to drop out. Big names like Jeb Bush, Mike Huckabee, and Chris Christie left the race. Bernie didn’t do good enough in the primaries, which was upsetting to most of your friends, your older brother, and your mom, who all voted for him. Ted Cruz fell off, defeated, in May.

It was down to Hillary and Trump.

You followed the comments made at their rallies. On their social media. You heard a lecture about the election from Josh Gillin of Politifact at Indiana University over the summer. You won an award for an opinion piece you wrote on Trump. As the election day grew closer, you watched every presidential debate. You analyzed them in class.

Last night, you stayed up until 4 A.M. to see the results of this election. You sat through excruciatingly slow interviews, political analysis, and different predictions. You couldn’t turn away from the blue and red maps, the aggressively American backgrounds, the anxious masses.

The tired tv hosts were right, it was a nail-biter.

As Trump gave his victory speech, you wept.

You wept for the months you spent wishing this wouldn’t happen. You wept for the 1920’s suffragettes, for the descendents of MLK and Cesar Chavez, for the Orlando victims. You wept for me. The people I joined. The people who will join me.

I am dead.

You learned in your final moments that homophobes look like normal people. They are not all rednecks with beer guts wearing ten-gallon hats. They are more elusive than that. They can be dressed smart. They can have friendly voices. Familiar names and faces.

A friend of a friend of a friend of a friend killed you. Someone you live near. You might have passed them in a car. In the mall. In the school hallways. It was someone that people you knew,  knew. You probably could’ve gotten their Twitter handle if you had heard their name before.

You were killed in a city that VP Pence had once stood in.

People tried to learn about your killer. Were they someone you knew? Someone who just went crazy? Someone who couldn’t handle who you held hands with?

You were too young, the local news anchors said. Your school administration said. Your mom said.

Mike Pence didn’t say anything at all.

Your friends didn’t say much. They cried. They withdrew. They wore baggier clothes. They bought switchblades. They washed “*****” and “ladyboy” off of your tombstone. They wondered about joining you, voluntarily and not.

The school newspaper’s headline: DEAD AT 17.

No one thought it would happen to you, except you. You stayed up late at night, imagining your funeral. The first thing you did in the morning was practice for your wake. Every time you left your house, you were a dead man walking.

No one  believed this more than you did.

The news anchors said it was just one of a string of murders. People said it was an isolated incident. Your friends said it was a hate crime. Your mom said it was the worst thing that  ever  happened to her.

There was no question that you were gone, even when they found you- chest jumping. There was only one thing to wonder: who was next?

Not an if, but a when.

I hope the when is  never.

All my love- to you and everyone else,

Yourself
John Cena Mar 2016
paschabiceps with his muscles so large
the best player on VP thats for sure
hes so good he might as well be in charge
the rest of them are bad, but he'll endure
a lot of my friends think you're awesome too
my bearded friend wants to ride on your arm
a transfer to a good team is past due
to watch your games i set an alarm
i wake up before the sun even rises
to hear your sweet polish voice in my ear
you and your great skill, full of surprises
you are one of the things i hold most dear
i bet you could lift a hundred pound pole
pashabiceps pro, my friends full control
So let us now place monetary value on information.
Let us return to the source,
Mining & prospecting that fertile intel seam.
To wit: WWII and G-2 shenanigans.
Wild Bill and OSS-capades,
Artificial disseminations.
Partial recriminations.
And PSYOPS:
A literary nightmare--
THE CYCLOPS from The Odyssey,
For example,
If you lack your own,
Your own personal Bogey Man.
Or men. For me:
Allen Dulles or Richard Helms.

The Intelligence Community:
It was a small tightly knit crew,
Less than battalion strength in 1942;
A few myopic soldiers,
Who, although could barely type,
Were still too cerebral to
Waste as infantry fodder.
It was a huge converted Army-green warehouse,
Space strategically partitioned,
Sectioned off into cubicle-like spaces,
By giant 4-drawer file cabinets
Standing tall like MPs,
Sentinels & Guardians,
Monuments to pre-electronic storage,
Data relatively comprehensive, and an
Archive secretive & intimidating.

Within the Army-green incunabula,
Scattered throughout the intel landscape,
Here and there a few commissioned officers,
A smattering of college psychology majors,
Personalities with predilections,
And penchants for mind games.
These self same WWII vets,
Would morph into Cold War Mad Men.
Stalwart, stouthearted men of Eisenhower,
And J. Walter Thompson,
De-mobbed, as they say in the UK.
Consumptive.
Self-indulgent,
Particularly when it came to the kids;
Children of the peace,
Called Baby-Boomers,
An entire generation enabled & destroyed.
Who would produce little of value
Except medical marijuana and
Coupons, clipped by that sober ruling class—
Fat interest-bearing college-loan portfolios
Held by that neo-Calvinist Elect: The 1%.
Fat cats one and all,
Loaded dice & canasta cronies--
In concert a stacked deck,
“Una mano lava l'altra.”
The words of my namesake--
My grandfather Giuseppe--
His vowels reverberating,
Rattling in my dreams.
Not friends, but
Fiends in high places, like
The Fed and dark liquid pools.
Thank you, Barack, for
Fooling us again.
For giving us
“Belief we can believe in.”

But I digress.
It was when the Government Secrecy Act,
In all its transnational incarnations,
Embraced capitalism in a big way,
Elevating the ideology to whole-Earth saturation,
Systemizing the ethos of Darwin,
Into one global Moby ****,
One solitary leviathan,
A multi-level marketing labyrinth,
Where wealth is the end game--
Greed: pure, unbridled & unrestrained.
Bond--James Bond—
Did his bit, supplying catchy
Slogans & tag-lines:
“For Your Eyes Only.”
“On a need to know basis.”
“Confidential Information.”
“Top & Ultra-Top Secret.”
“Hush, Hush & a Bag of Chips.”

The sealed letter sits in a locked drawer,
In that stout desk,
In the Oval Office
In The White House,
“To be opened by my VP in the event of my death.”
Another staggering work,
Of achy-achy-heart breaking genius,
The culture commoditized,
A disease containing its own cure,
Assayed, graded,
Portioned & packaged.
Priced accordingly,
To a logic that goes something like:
“Anything this tightly controlled,
Anything the government deems to be
This illegitimate and/or & secret
Must be really, really God-awesome,
Must really be Da ******* Bomb.”

Brother Coolidge was right:
“The Business of America is Business.”
And INFORMATION:
“The Most Valuable Commodity on Earth.”
So said Stanford Stuyvesant Whitehead III,
19th Century robber baron, and
Consummate Fat Cat.
Get the picture:
We were smoking cigars and sipping cognac,
Mighty comfortable in leather armchairs,
Muted billiard clicks,
Punctuating the atmosphere
In this spacious lounge,
His East Side
Downtown & private
Manhattan club.
I, his guest, had not the slightest idea
Why I was there.
"By God, man," he went on,
My eyes speared by his laser gaze,
His bushy eyebrows,
His monocle.
His bulbous nose;
His thick wet mustache.
And those EYES:  
Those crazy,
Insane eyes.

"I am talking about a profound change,” he continued.
“Back when the steamship
Gave way to electronic wireless radio."
He puffed smoke,
Removing the cigar from his mouth,
Holding it,
Examining it critically for a moment.
"I'm talking about communication,
Instant communication
With business associates, &
Cronies far away,
Way out there,
Far beyond the places we know well.
Picture it:
You're running a fleet of
Ramshackle Filipino banana boats,
Out of some nameless cove,
Indenting the south coast of Mindanao.
A cyclone comes out of nowhere.
Good God--there’s sixteen banana-packed
Coal burners lying on the bottom of the Celebes Sea.
Think about it:
You've got telegraph radio.
Everyone else has the post office.
Now, I ask you:
‘Who's going long,
Who’s getting rich on the
Caracas Banana Exchange?’
Good Lord, man, it would be
Like being omniscient!"
“This very conversation,” he went on,
“Could well be a verbatim transcription
Of a conversation right here in this very room,
Between people like: J. Pierpont Morgan
And some lesser Gilded Age nabob;
Some Astor, some Rockefeller,
A Gould or Vanderbilt,
Whitney or Duke,
Some Frick or Warburg--
To name just a few, old sport.”
He stopped suddenly.
He looked down at his hands,
As we both realized he had counted these names
Out on his fat curled fingers.
He looked at me and smiled.
I was afraid.
Why had I been invited to this meeting?
I smiled back at him,
Doing my best to mirror his
Carnivorous menace.

I knew it.
He knew it.
He knew I knew it.
Mr. Whitehead’s growling rabid jowls,
His slobbering canine smile held me steady.
“Okay. Touché. ‘Ya got me.”
He shook off the phony smile,
An absence, accentuating
His stare: lethal, carnal & rare.
“I never had much formal schooling.
I’ve been hungry.
Hungry enough to know for sure
That the correct fork,
Don’t mean ***** from shinola.
When I’m dining out, fancy-like,
Me manners is the least of me problems,
Far less important than
The dinner chit they
Hand me after I slake
My thirst & appetite.”
Again, he stopped suddenly,
Recognizing that, perhaps,
He’d revealed too much of his
Bedford-Stuyvesant pedigree.
He turned again and stared at me.
“None of that,” he said.
“None of that means squat to me, Boyo.
What matters now is I’m rich.
I’ve got mine, By God,
And ******* It!
Tough ***** on the rest of you losers;
The rest of you fecking whiners can go
**** yourselves over at Zuccotti Park.”
He pounded the armrest,
The padded armrest of the rich Corinthian leather—
( . . . ***, Ricardo?
Get your Montalbán
Mexicano ***, back in
Random Access Memory Land,
Where you belong.
**** ya’ Fantasy Island
Hospitality, Mr. Roarke,
Go be wrathful Khan Noon Singh,
Somewhere else.
Now is not the time, or,
Let me rephrase that:
This narrative will not allow your meme here . . .)    

Whitehead pounds the armrest again.
“My point is this:  
None of JP Morgan’s decidedly,
un-nattering lesser nabobs of negativity . . .”
BAM!  Again, he pounded the leather . . .

(Back in your ******* hole, Spiro!
Do you realize just how far back,
Just how far back
Maryland’s reputation
Has been set back by your venality?
Not to mention any shot at ethnic assimilation,
The rest of us grease ball non-Wasps
Have in this country?
You ******* Greek!)

I stopped thinking
When I realized Stanford Stuyvesant Whitehead III
Was reading my mind.
“So that’s what it’s really all about,” he said,
Rank smugness in his voice.
“So, I’m just a nouveau riche upstart,
A socially inept parvenu,
Yet they still let me
Join their tony clubs.
It chaps your ***, Boyo, don’t it?
I’m still Scotch-Irish, and
A WASP, Laddie.
Something your skinny
Greaser-Guinea-****-Spaghetti-*** ***,
Ain’t ever gonna be.”
But I digress, again.

So I joined one of Uncle Sam’s
Lesser-known clandestine services,
An assignment appropriate to my ethnic identity,
Namely GLADIO in Italy,
A NATO stay-behind operation &
Cold-War comedy.
I infiltrated the Brigate Rosse.
I drove the Aldo Moro kidnap vehicle.
I cooked minestrone for General Dozier.
I sliced off J. Paul Getty’s ear in Calabria.
Ironically, I lost my hearing during
The Stazione Bologna bombing.
I am consequently pensioned off,
Off both the radar and the payroll.
Years later now,
I live in one of those gated, golf-coursed,
Over-55, sunny southern California
Lunatic asylums.

Most days I am drunk at 9 AM.
I fill Bukowski mornings,
Conjuring up Jane Fonda,
Jazzercised in camo spandex.
She is high atop a Vietcong tank in Hanoi.
Or Daniel Ellsberg
Enjoying a second act in American politics,
Praising Snowden & Assange,
& Bradley Manning,
I summon up the ghosts of
Julius & Ethel,
Benedict Arnold,
Rose of Tokyo & Mata Hari—
And Ezra exiled at Rapallo,
And John Walker Lindh,
A Yankee Doodle Dandy,
Born in Washington,
District of Columbia,
By way of Afghanistan,
Taliban Americano,
Kangaroo-courted,
Presently residing at the
Federal Correctional Institution
At Terre Haute, Indiana.
Spies.
Traitors.
Saboteurs.
And Poets?
No longer capable of keeping secrets.
Desperate now to tell
The truth.
james nordlund Jun 2020
All saw united **** of assassin's Gov't's premeditated taking
a knee for 9 minutes on George Floyd's neck, the **** cop
calmly looking into the camera, an assassination for many
reasons, who's seeing past the 'show', following the $?

Ebony, ivory supremacies repeating their victory of 2016's
(Only) Black Lives Matters participation in the Int'l criminal
conspiracy's installing **** into the Black House, etc.,
determining their dividing the nation, in perfect harmony.

Like the bi-headed, Utin and Utin's ****, global axi of
supposed power has re-established, East, West, you're
either totalitarian or not-see, and if not you're murdered
by both, now either Black or white supremacist, or die.

For 15 years ebony has dictated Caucasians call themselves
"white", "be proud of being white", make believe they have
"white privilege", to the benefit of division, ivory, when
there's no "whites", and almost no non-repubs thought it.

That while the reality is their class war against the lower-
middle-class to poor, the boot on our neck, by the police/
military/intelligence complexes, is all 23 flavors of the
baskin + robbins of supremacies, usa, the global oligarchy.

Criminal insanity, that illegally installed the Int'l crime
family **** into the Blackhouse: repubs, conservatives, global
hackers, wicked leaks, J. Assange, usa intelligence/military/
police/prison industrial complexes, J. Comey, R. Barr, C. + K.

West, J. Stein, 13 % of Bernie or Bust 'Bots voting **** and
another % that stopped the youth vote from getting behind a
"not perfect" Hillary, "boat loads" of organized crime $ from
Russia, Ukraine, white supremacy, sinos, linos, ginos, ainos,

dinos, Moore for hawking 'trumpland' entitled book for months
before the election while projecting **** "would win", a % of
the elite of the black supremacy, etc., just allowed the not-
sees, totalitarians to destroy, ****** at an increased clip,

now add premeditated pandemic, ebony/ivory dictated duality,
racial environmental justice "only my environment matters"
movement and voila, the end of the climate crisis movement,
total extermination of humanity to it's extinction, in a can.

It's not a coinky-**** that the "knee" was taken upon the
news that "Biden was considering not choosing a woman of the
right color, Black".  For Ebony figures "if they're not get-
ting a Black president now, through a Black VP pick, they

might as well just put up with 4 more years of ****.  Biden,
Sanders, Warren, etc., will have aged out, Booker, Harris,
Patrick, etc., will be sitting pretty for the 'once you go
Black you never go back' prez job.", same as it ever was.  

Even though the 'show' was able to pull a Mattis out of their
hat, supposedly legitimizing not just the military, but the
republican conspiracy, during this 15th anniv. of the 'use'
of Katrina to "clean out the bowl", and "let the river take

what's the river's", exterminate the lower-middle-class to
poor, gentrify, militarize NOLA by purposely not preventing
the failing of the levees by 2005, by Reagan "we got 300
buses but no drivers" Nagin, Gov. Blanco, etc., to the tune

of mass-murdering going on 3000 predominantly lower-middle-
class to poor, mostly people of color, like king george and
his ****, cheney didn't the terrorist attacks of 9-11-01 and
serial murderers masquerading as cops don't daily terrorist

attacks, their one-sided and continual coverage of the
"current controversy", as ebony and the 'Blackish' lead
actor called the premeditated murderer of some women, ******,
kidnapper of 100's more, B. Cosby, was suffering from, is

clear, keeping the faux opening news out.  No ebony racist
comments, like the Houston Police Chief who repeatedly stated
throughout the day that "the looters were white" only, were
even remarked on.  The lock, ebony and ivory, the fix is in,

if it ain't fixed don't break it.  All the smoke and mirrors,
song and dance, show, weapons of mass distraction, to take
the news cycles off the too early "opening of the country",
pandemic, by ebony for ivory, in the world can't change the

facts, even though it's death toll is only 111,000 by their
accounts, actually 122,000, and there's going on 2 million
infected, there will be an extra 100,000 murdered by ****'s
policies and lack thereof in handling his virus circus.

That there's more prisoners, defacto-slave laborers now than
the number of slaves at the height of the slave trade, here,
not spoken about because ebony, ivory are both the corporate
structure, global oligarchy that it enriches, won't change.

See how the assassinations of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor,
George Floyd, have paid ivory by ebony, like they did in 2016
to stop there being a minimum of 16 years straight of 'white'
prezs, Hillary and Tom.  Their deaths and the aftermath being

used now to cover up the premeditated ****** of 10,000's of
Blacks by ****, because ebony + ivory, working together in
perfect harmony to fill every news cycle now and for months,
want 'the economy open', to make them more $ now, instead

of saving all those Black lives who don't actually matter to
them at all, 'cause it's all about the benjamins, instead.  
Biden should pick a progressive woman to cement Bernie
voters, if not, then a liberal one of color, no particular hue.  

'De-funding police dept.s', etc., should wait until after the
election, unless ebony's insisting **** wins to get a Black
prez in 2024, instead.  The determined Winter of our death,
extermination to come, will surpass their class warfare's

liquidation of ases and assets of the masses en masse's
increased rate of blitzkreiging Gaia's kids to their
extinction.  Now it seems too late, their 'use' of pandemic
to subjugate the world to survival instead of alival,

exigency instead of humanity, has closed eyes, minds, pulled
the rug out....  But, "...we(e),..." can't be over-confident,
apathetic, cynical, complacent, nihilistic, pessimistic,
burned-out, for supposed anarchy is the global bi-polar axi

of supposed power's mutual modus operendi, to determine
la machine's chaos, and the division it causes, increases
vacuum-up economics to the global oligarchy, replicating the
'show' that must goes on, including colonialism, hegemony,

patriarchy, imperialism, supremacy, conspiracy, etc..  If you
didn't vote Hillary you voted Utin and his **** be installed
into the Black House.  There's public records of who did and
didn't do what, please stop them from doing it again, or die.

Protect, occupy, GOTV, "you can't dismantle the man's house
with the man's tools", Lordes, notseeism and totalitarianism.  
"The root of all oppression lies in (supposed) science",
Gandhi.  If you're not taking bullets you're making them.  
Viva la vida, solidaridad, la evolucion   :)   reality
The normal they want to return to, northern malaise, euro-centrism and projections of academia, a blood disease, have always flown in the face of necessity, progress and the need for humanity to even be allowed to exist.  Yet, now with coronaing of everyone going on, that desire for normalcy and return of norms takes on new hues; some very human and even desirable.  That while the purposeful too early opening of the country has already determined that being pandemiced is the new normal for at minimum a year (possibly permanently); until we get a vaccine or more life-saving treatment possibilities.  This has all opened many eyes to the disparaging realities of pre-pandemic America, where the life expectancy of people of color, and more so, the lower-middle-class to poor, were predominantly still only being addressed by their getting the establishment’s projected healthcare for them, eat st and die.  That goes for sociological maladies as well, for e.g., the lower-middle-class to poor suffering oppression from serial murderers masquerading as cops; police brutality tantamount to a incurable birth defect of all poor.  The injustice system and their dictating everybody accused of anything must plead guilty to a lesser charge or face the draconian rage of la machine’s dictating they get little lousy representation in fixed trials that most of the time determine ******* up or false convictions and incarcerations unequal to the reality of the circumstances that took place.  I wish I weren’t diffabled to the point where I can’t be at the front of these demonstrations for real change taking place now; as I had been for decades in the past- yet, still am doing all I can.  Thanx to you and All for doing all you do; have a great day    :)    reality
Cyriack, this three years day these eys, though clear
To outward view, of blemish or of spot;
Bereft of light thir seeing have forgot,
Nor to thir idle orbs doth sight appear
Of Sun or Moon or Starre throughout the year,
Or man or woman.  Yet I argue not
Against heavns hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope; but still bear vp and steer
Right onward.  What supports me, dost thou ask?
The conscience, Friend, to have lost them overply’d                  
In libertyes defence, my noble task,
Of which all Europe talks from side to side.
This thought might lead me through the world’s vain mask
Content though blind, had I no better guide.
"One thing good I can say about the hotel,
There were plenty of skanky crack ******
Strolling the boulevard.”
So began my Expedia travel review.
As usual, I got less than I’d paid for.
My review title:
“Next Time, Sans the Engineering
& Construction Inquietude.”
Pulling into the parking lot
One immediately recognized the scene,
A modern version of Cecil B. DeMille.
The 10 Commandments.
Pyramids of Egypt
Reconstructed, Escher-like
As a 21st Century construction site.
Oh, yes,
Everything Habib had in mind
When he subcontracted
The entire task to Hershel--
Hersh from Kanersh--
The famed,
But cursed
Jewish architect.
I digress, yes, but only partly.

Noise-induced stress, anyone?
The electrified multi-frequency drone,
Saturates like a post-war Levittown
Sea of Cape Cods . . . cods?
Bacala: stiff, salted, yellow & oily.
Cacophony:  a Festivus for the rest of us.
Oh yeah, Mr. Costanza.
Post-war?
Hardly, the mahogany wax
Still faintly, freshly sober,
New cards shuffled.
New cards dealt.
At that mahogany conference table
We weep at stacked decks,
Aces & Kings for the privileged few
Deuces & treys for the hoi polloi.
That hinky Bretton Woods poker game,
Convened while the war went on,
WWII still raging, guns still firing,
Tanks still rolling & rolling along.
There sat the Ruling Elite,
The 1%--as they are calling us these days--
We didn’t even offer
Our Gold Star mothers,
A moment to
Hold their breath.
Not one decent interval of silence.
Nein, nein, nein.
It was let’s get back to business.
Capital resuming its
Uncivil War on Labor.
First, add decades of slow boa squeeze.
Inflation, insidiously mocking Calvin--
Your ethos of work
In smithereens--
(Smithereens.
[From Irish Gaelic smidir n,
Diminutive of smiodar,
Small fragment.] ...)
A recipe for Sisyphus,
Your down-the-ladder warped reflection
Stares back at you as your
Up-the-ladder false hopes
Go escalator bye-bye; and by,
Staring at you,
Pinning you to a wall
With Econ 101 clarity,
As taught by Karl,
Another wily Jew:
It is a treadmill, after all,
Noting again the clever juxtaposition
Of a Jew and a handful of Christians,
Devotees of random Protestant sects.
The following link is a gift to some struggling writer @wattpad.
(Who Cares ON HOLD INDEFINITELY Chapter Twenty - Page 1 ...
www.wattpad.com/4225578-who-cares-on-hold-indefinitely-chapte­r-twe...‎
Apr 22, 2012 - Leanna was totally stunned by this and immediately halted in her tracks and began to scream at such a high decibel, Opia could hear her ears...) That’s right, another commercial in the middle of a ******* poem. The proceeding link was a gift to some struggling writer @wattpad.@*******.
Expedia Review:
The Windemere.
Its last syllable from Old English 'mere',
Meaning 'lake' or 'pool'.
A magical name
Reeking, swirling through your mind,
Lavender & English lakes
With steam ferries.
Ne c'est pas?

I arrived at the front desk?
The computers are down,
Having earlier that day
Been hacked into.
No restaurant.
No bar.
Nowhere.
Scaffolding & drop cloths,
Everywhere.
Construction materiel,
Everywhere.
When you finally get your swipe card,
You Notice that the “Buy One, Get One”
Pizza promo, laminated on one side,
Expired about 5 months ago.
The drive to the room
Is wry recognition that
The Windemere Hotel
& Conference Center*
Is actually a ****** motel.
Backhoes & cranes,
Everywhere.
Multiple, out-door spaces
Sectioned off with police
Yellow crime-scene tape.
Everywhere.
Railings on balconies
Appear to be seconds away
From giving way.
Odor, anyone?
You can count on it,
The moment that electronically-challenged keybox
Gives up its flashing green dot ghost.

Most times you get less
Than you pay for.
$47.00 a night?
Please ask,
Next time,
What's the catch?
“WHAT DID YOU LIKE ABOUT YOUR STAY?”
Again, Numb-nuts,
You think it’s a poem.
But it’s actually my
Fakokta Expedia Review.
WHAT DID I LIKE?
This one I had to think about,
Coming up, quickly . . .
(An advertisement generated by algorithms for your amusement follows)
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Coming quickly with Dwight David Eisenhower,
The man we liked & called IKE.
When asked if his VP Nixon--
Running for President himself,
In a tight race with JFK—
Had distinguished himself in any way
In his 8 years as his Vice-President?”
IKE replied:
"Give me a minute and
I'm sure I can think of something."

Not a ringing endorsement.
IKE knew something
The rest of us had to wait for 1973,
Reserving a room at the The Watergate,
Close to Foggy Bottom & Georgetown:
THE WATERGATE HOTEL
& CONFERENCE CENTER,
Just like The Windemere,
Another ****** motel.
**** me! What was I thinking?

Not to mention lack of privacy,
Be it acoustic or visual and,
In one case a veritable DEA bust.
Crack ***** in residence next door,
Cranes her neck around the balcony wall,
A would-be nurse, perhaps,
Offering home hospice &
Concern for your raspy,
***-smoking cough.
Her pox face bursting in on
The long anticipated
Marijuana Miller Time.
On the veranda, early evening,
Lighting up your first joint of the day,
Desperately in need
Of some herbal peace of mind.
Ne c'est pas?
Her big crack-***** head
Giraffes like crazy around the wall,
Invading your balcony space.
*******? Who was that?
Let’s lock the doors.
Let's hunker down for the night,
Taking turns keeping watch,
Like a couple of shitless scared
Grunts of the DMZ.
(Urban Dictionary: scared shitless www.urbandictionary.com/define. Ph?term=scared%20shitlessIt's when you scare someone to such an extent, you scare the **** out of them, at times causing them to excrement all over the vicinity . . .)
The Expedia Review goes on:
Anything interesting about the surrounding area?
Oh, yes, as previously mentioned:
Plenty of crack ******
Strolling the boulevard.


Hey, Windemere Hotel,
*** am I doing in Mesa, Arizona,
Two days shy of the summer solstice,
And 119 degrees?
That's another story.
But for now,
Hey Windemere,
Here’s a tip:
Next time it's total facility makeover time,
Shut the **** hotel, please.
Irwin Shishko Sep 2016
Ode to My Hero (Me)
           to be sung by Donald Trump
    with apologies to Gilbert & Sullivan's
                   H.M.S Pinafore

As a callow youth I served a term
as Senior VP  of  my Daddy's firm
His moxie and his money so suited me
that now I am the ruler of the Trump fam'ly

When asked a question,  my Golden Rule
is to bluster loud and flaunt my cool,    
And this evasion so well suits me
that I've become the master of chicanery.

With legal suits, I've made so free
that all my smitten lenders bow down to me
For I pay my lawyers so liberally
that I never lose a dollar on a bankruptcy.

If now and then my luck runs out
I've buckets of money from my TV route,
And since my ******* up name is Gold
the money keeps a 'comin from the young  and old.

For my great fame they pay and pay
and their paltry savings they fling away
on Trump U studies  they're sure to find, will empty their wallets, not fill their mind.

So listen and learn from my Trumpery
and join white men who hate Hillary
They holler hosannas for their hero DonT, though for Trump adulation they can't beat me!

My heads not troubled by policy woes
'cause I learn all I want at beauty shows
I've put up very well with my three wives,
my yachts & my mansions & my gambling dives.


I've exalted myself unsparingly
and tossed off little lies with impunity
Let fey foes fault me as vain & mean,
their rightful envy leaves me quite serene.

With my big mouth and red regal head
I've clobbered all my rivals until they bled
With frank contempt I dissed Jeb B
bashed Carson & Kasich and Ted's lady.

There's hardly a Republican left to fight
and,  in wimpy Dems,  I inspire fright
while fearful folks seek my mighty arm
to shield them all from ISIS  harm.

Now I've come to the end of this very fine Ode
to march with pride on the Presidential Road
For my boundless bluster's so elevated me
that now I am the ruler of the GOP.

If another Trump you aspire to be,
you must never, never fret about decency.
Just stiff the losers and brag like me,
and you may be the Grand Old Party's nominee.
nick armbrister Oct 2023
Vice President Boss
The call centre VP boss flew from America to Thailand
She’d been in sales 20 years and knew it all
From presenting to rebuttals to fronting and closing
This was why she was the big boss and flew to Bangkok
One of the reps said to his pals take her to a Go Go bar!
See how her ******* twist and if she can drink and grind
Would you **** her another asked? Of course he replied
They got the business meetings over and official stuff
Including signing the new contract for another year
Then it was time for a team dinner with pizza and Pepsi
There were many photo ops for the website
Later they all went to a ***** Twister bar for fun
She paid for seven buckets of beer and more food
Music played dancing gals danced hookers hooked
A couple of the lads got bjs then and there
Others went back to private rooms with bargirls
The Yankee boss nodded to the TL and a rep
She took their hands grabbed some beers
And they all went to a room to make love!
What ensued in the ***** Twister bar stayed there
Had she done this before or was it the first time?
None of this would appear on the company site!
over 18s only adult
kaycog Sep 2018
VP
evening talk in waves
crashing moods and casualties
side tracked back to me
Ken Pepiton Oct 2022
Popular vote,
ignorant hermit-scribbler
proverbs and epigrams and memes.

Scattered in the collective unconscious,
not non conscious consciousness, self
confidence,
feeling fine, in response to the question,
how do you feel, how are we doing today.

fine, well ground, espresso speed, powder
fine ground, steam-pressurized pass,
whoosh, rich man's java, Starbucks,

from the TV show, yeah, maybe,
what TV show, the audience, is only
on average, just past thirty,

so the Space Pilot Starbuck, is, wait,
we can use Ziggy Stardust,
  
For 2024, he can be VP, and…

whatchewmean, ee ain't real,

I saw him in the crowd,
at the Arizona election Trumps supporters
are buying,

Ziggy is real, he'll help us, give us a
selfie with the Pearl of Great Price,
for the land owners trust, show 'em.

The word of God is the word of God,
if an oath taken on it stands up in Hell.

- oh Lord, please don't let me be
- misunderstood.
That felt great. Amen.
How could it not happen?
Olivia the Fixer.
Mellie, poor perpetually crapped-on Mellie,
Married to that ***** boy president, Fitz.
Fitzgerald Grant:  like his Dad
Having trouble keeping it in his pants,
Bent on a spectacular exit strategy
An escapade so outrageous that
Even the liberal media can't spin it.
And potential musical numbers?
Huck singing: "Happiness Is a Cordless Drill."
VP Sally: "My **** Husband."
Eli Pope: "It's Above Your Pay Grade, Babaloo!"
Jake: "I'll Take a Bullet & Your Mistress."
Abby: "Season Three Dark-Eyed *****"
David: "****** Again?"
Mellie: "First Lady, Last in Line."
Fitz: "I Dig Colored Chicks."
Olivia: "Making Jam in Vermont."
And lest we forget,
The real star of the show,
Cyrus: "**** Me, Lick Me, I'm the Chief of Staph."
Id exchange cars for lions
and the internet for some ******* peace
watch green vines scale the sides of building
creaking + bent as they weep
tall offices and business parks
necks  strangled by keyboards
monotone microphone mouths
smile and thrive
when the VP gazes down
drool of regulated progression
poured out the corner of vacant mouths
Id exchange planes for a range of multiplying rain clouds
pin them with needles to the ground
tear off their wings as they struggle
who is the sociopath now
line up all the preachers
line up all the officers
line up all the politicians
line up all the doctors
an oblong party in nightgowns
drop each one onto a stake
like we living in dracula’s house
talk about finances and collateral damage mortgages and cash cows
between the popping and screaming sounds
while they preach woozy gospel of wooden stakes through the mouth
my insurance agent stands in the center of the city
softly repeating,
If you were dead, she could be living
If you were dead, she could be living
If you were dead, she could be living
all it takes is a signature and a nominal fee
all I can think
WOULD SHE WANT TO LIVE HERE WITHOUT ME
yeah, probably
no one calls me as much as my insurance agent
depressing disgusting
add another liability to my life insurance policy
then go **** yourself you’re going to hell
where your broken eyes will inspire the beast
Boaz Priestly Nov 2016
I am going to a funeral
not sure who for
but it could be any one of us
when his men come to our door


We’ve spent our lives in closets
content with safety over view
but even that gets old
and **** we just wanted a fresh breath or two


So out we came
again and again
a never ending stream
but it felt so good to finally come clean


And now here we sit
under the jurisdiction of our new “president”
a man who hates our kind
and a vp who supports conversion therapy


So don’t you dare tell us
that we should not be scared
because we have PULSE to back us up
and so many years of the same old *******


We are tired
and scared
and wary of all
because who knows who could be the reason why we fall


So please
I beg of you
come and stand with us
hold our hands but do not speak over us


Because we need you
the majorities and all
to stand up to this menace
we do not want to fall


I do not want to go to funerals
that could have been prevented
so please friends hear my words
and take them to heart


Fore there are already too many hashtags
dedicated to my brothers and sisters
and we must end this campaign of hate
because we the minorities are all tired of going to funerals
Graff1980 Jan 2017
So, an orange ape,
with hair so real
you’d swear it was fake,
said we have to make America great
and the first thing he plans to do
is punish anyone who chooses
to burn a flag.

Doesn’t mind the kind
of KKK dudes who burnt crosses
the David Duke
white sheet brotherhood
who endorsed him,
but if you’re a Muslim
or a Mexican
you better watch out.

I don’t want to be divisive
but this guys been selling *******
and conservatives wonder why
a lot of people are contemplating
evacuating America or suicide.
It is because in our younger days
this nation faced
fascist states that grew the same way.

Lesbians and gays are afraid
cause the VP Pence
tried to pass a law that allowed
people to discriminate.
It is strange cause people used to proclaim
that the LGTBQ struggle
and the civil rights movement
were not the same.

So some sit in terror,
some rise to march on,
some show their solidarity
with Facebook posts,
and others write in hopes
that words can overcome
this ******* rerun
from nineteen fifty-one.
By Elliott Blanchette

2020, what a year indeed!
For every nation, language and creed
For it exposed every good and bad deed
But it was a long lesson that we did all need.

In January, a tragedy worse than the heat of Nairobi
Was the death of a legend, a man we call Kobe
The world mourned, wept, wailed and did wonder
Was there more coming from 2020 over hill and yonder?
‘Twas then I heard of a virus
And no, not ammonia!
Was not crisp like a beer
But she was called Corona
In China, she sat, like a lioness ready to pounce
But leaked out onto foreign soil, ounce by ounce!

Trump was a man impeached
But by the start of February
He was acquitted of all charge
Was trial really necessary?

Then came a historic day
More seasoned than parsley
For the long last conviction
Of a man named Harvey
A filmmaking giant who fell from grace
All cause he never learned the value of personal space.

Then came March, my birth month of course
On the 9th day of the month, the stock market went hoarse.
Corona slipped onto our shining shores
Closing all of our venues, markets and stores

But wait, Trump said, let’s not let hope fester
We shall curb this little knock before Easter
April came and our hope seemed dim
Corona took human form and she was at the helm.

Then came May, a month I wish we could avoid
It all came to a head with a man called Floyd
A cop’s knee was upon him, as I watched the world seethe
As Floyd uttered his final words, “I can’t breathe!”
Like a volcano that just blew its top
Riots erupted and came full stop!

I watched in stunned silence as I saw two sides clash
With protestors and cops seeing each side bash.
Violence escalated and hatred doubled
I felt my heart sink, I was deeply troubled.

It spilled over into June, near the start of summer.
All nerves were on high!
My God, that was a ******!
It was then it occurred to me, yes I have a voice
To use it for hope and faith, and yes that was my choice.
There was another highlight
No need to be hiding
Look out USA, here’s Biden!
Tyson’s got nothing on him
Trump’s chances just got dim!

Now came July, with another strike
Bugs called ****** hornets came in a huge spike
They were like hoodlums intent on killing
Every honey bee and hive, their bee blood spilling!
I did much as I could to keep on living!
Until I learned of the death of Regis Philbin
Host of a great game show, if one would dare.
One called Who Wants to be a Millionaire!

August rolls around explosion and joy see
Beirut up in flames and Kamala as VP
But then tragedy struck again for Hollywood
We lost Chadwick Bozeman, the Black Panther that Could!
Our Wakandan salutes all up in the air
I asked God why Chadwick, it didn’t seem fair!
California had its own trauma
Fanning the flames
Consuming every forest
We are not playing games!

September brought another tragedy
A pioneer of change
Losing the great RBG and her great judicial range
A revered Supreme Court justice of the highest merit
Only to be replaced by a woman called Barrett.

In October, Corona reared its ugly head
As it went to attack the President instead
Many wished he went down, but it didn’t take him
Pretty soon he was back on the road on a whim.
Was it staged or was it all real?
Trump healed up way too quick, what’s the deal?

Then came that month, the dreaded November
It was served piping hot like a bowl of scorching embers!
For Trump, this month was all but fun
For old Joe Biden, it was a grand home run!
For gals everywhere, they were all, Yippee!
As Kamala Harris was elected the First Lady VP!
Yet another tragedy came, one that stung me in the neck
Was a beloved game show host called Alex Trebek.
Cancer took him severely and quietly too
Jeopardy won’t be the same, all fans cried boo-hoo!

Finally it was December
Not served as a burning timber
There was hope a-flaring
As far as I remember
Relief was coming and for all to be seen
An FDA-approved COVID-19 vaccine
Yes! I thought, my faith paid off
But local leaders would just look and scoff.
They bickered for months, allegedly on our behalf
When we got 600, they gave us the shaft.

This year was a hot mess
Every event in its cause
2020, oh 2020....the year that was!
Wordfreak Jul 2016
I'm glad you're making progress.
Congratulations.
At this point I don't want to know myself.
I'm going to remake myself.
Bigger, better, faster, stronger.
A soldier.
A killer.
So I don't have to see what I am.
After everything I've done?
The way everyone else sees me?
The entire high school class of VP (and my parents) can't be wrong.
Ilene Bauer Sep 2018
An Op-Ed in The New York Times,
Anonymously printed,
States that the White House mood is worse
Than what the press has hinted.

The President’s “amoral,”
And “erratic,” it declares,
With “ill-informed decisions”
Catching staffers unawares.

The author, an official
In the Trump administration,
Is hoping that what he reveals
Will jolt awake the nation.

Asserting he and others
Are resisting from within,
He wants the world to know
That what he claims is not just spin.

The President is seething now
With Tweeting calls of “Treason?”
Denouncing, too, The Times, for holding
Names back for no reason.

As speculation builds, so many
Choices would make sense.
There’s even talk the writer
May be Trump’s VP – Mike Pence.

Whoever wrote the piece, though,
Is a brave and daring soul
And hopefully, he’ll shake
Some people up, which was his goal.
ZACK GRAM Mar 2019
"REST IN PEACE JEREMY"

gettin to this money in a jiffy like how when i got a ****** not on no gay **** thats my **** a ***** an blunt for drinkin the next case away...

sittin in a unrealed owners name lamborgini makin money 10 babies 1k horse power between my legs an a job to do...

5 milly in a day vp money across this nation top 100 business in the world i fly in jets not legal yet they says its a payed to me test...

now im speaking a language i ain spoke in a minute because anywhere i go standing on top the biggest buildin everything i see is mine...

they always been on my **** since birth i dont know why on ****** on my life seen death shed a tear moved on never looked back since...

i know im the best because of what ive written when an why an what happend right after that in 100 years you might find out...

jiffy widda sticky blicky on the dome keep my name out ya mouth im from the north east an south the real west central...

my boi terror spittin out a new whip his speech a precident makin you ****** competit an go extinct...

i dont give a **** what color you are the money around me turn you to a jew an im the ferror out chea...

z-pac
you can no longer high speed police chase motorcycles in florida because of this man
TOD HOWARD HAWKS Jan 2020
MEMORIES OF MATTHEW MONREAL
AND GEORGE W. BUSH

It was election day. For some reason,
I had to leave class. I walked alone down
the hallway, then up the large staircase,
and as I was about halfway up, around
the bend came Matthew Monreal, him-
self alone. We paused on the stairway.
I said, “Matthew, how are you? Have you
voted today?” I was running to be president
of the sophomore class. I knew Matthew
from Roosevelt Jr. High. He was, I think,
the only Hispanic in school there. My
recollection was that he had few friends
at Roosevelt;  he was essentially ostra-
cized by his fellow classmates, especial-
ly the ones in the know, the ones who were
white, the ones who were upper-middle
class. But Matthew was my friend;  he
had always been my friend. It was not
lost on me how others treated him.
Throughout all my schooling--from grade
school through college--I had always
felt that way. I was ashamed of my fellow
classmates who treated anybody that way.
Matthew and I chatted for a few more
minutes, then bid each other a good after-
noon. I had other friends like Matthew,
essentially social outcasts because they
happened to be Black, or poor, or not
very bright, or different looking in some
peculiar way. But these, too, were my friends.
It was early fall, 1959. The next year, my father
would send me to Andover. But that evening
at an all-school function held in the cafeteria, I
found out I had been elected president of the
sophomore class at Topeka High School by
more than 800 fellow classmates. I think
Matthew had voted, and I think he probably
had voted for me.

George W. Bush and I were schoolmates at
Andover. George was two years behind me. I
never met him, I never knew him. George
should never have been at Andover because
he wasn’t very smart. He was a poor student
at Andover. But legacy raised its ugly head.
Papa Bush, who had also attended Andover,
and who became head of the CIA with
Noriega secretly on his payroll, then VP
under Reagan, then president of our country,
was George’s dad. And George’s granddad,
Prescott, was serving on Yale’s Board of Trustees
when George applied to Yale, so George got
in. George was a C student at Yale. But that
did not keep him from being accepted by Har-
vard Business School, where George continued
to be a C student. It’s common knowledge how
George and his henchman, Cheney, lied to the
American people about Iraq having weapons of
mass destruction, which meant we had a brutal
war with Iraq, not to mention Afghanistan, for years
and years and years, instead of never.

Of the two, I prefer Matthew.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia University, Tod Howard Hawks has been a poet and human-rights advocate for his entire adult life. He recently
finished his first novel, A CHILD FOR AMARANTH.
Today is not as dark as two days ago,
there is light at the end of the tunnel.
Joe is a good man, and he knows when
to stay and when to go, for the good of
the nation and the world.

Now, with the VP, put Pete Buttigieg on
the ticket and Trump will be out of all our
lives and maybe in jail where he certainly
belongs.

I know a woman of color and a gay man may
sound implausible to many but I think the
country is ready. A near brush with a crazy
want to be Fascist dictator is a very sobering
wake up call, it changes opinions and scares
people to open their minds up to new and better
possibilities. Perhaps it will expel the crazy Maga
Trump *** kissers from congress so our nation
can heel its wounds and divisions and we can
rise from beneath the evil specter of Trump and
all his misguided minions.

Kamala and Pete are both very smart and super
capable people. Born leaders. It's time the voters
thought with their heads and not their lame skewed
and bias petty prejudices.

Are we addled sheep or thinking human beings?
We have 105 days to get our collective **** together.
I think we can do it. I just pledged $200 to support
the Dem Presidential Campaign, the first time in
my life ever donating to any politician's election.
If not now, when? I have a feeling I will not be alone
in this regard and desire for change.
Vote people and influence others to do the same.
Save our Democracy!!! I tried to donate $500 but
I found that I could only give $200. How do billionaires
give Millions???
preservationman Mar 2023
Ready set go into center stage
Let your heart show your amaze
Heritage produced the women of yesterday striving in tomorrow’s virtues
It’s women you know and others you don’t
Those are the one’s behind the scenes, but courage put them on the front line
Women who believed in themselves
Cutting through the negative stereotypes
Making your strides in accomplished actions
Determined in desires
Believing while contributing
Courage while walking in Faith
Setting your own standards
Women use what they have been taught being a discovery
Knowing that you can cut the boundaries that bind
Society isn’t always so kind
The question is sometimes what can women offer?
Give a woman a chance and they can become whatever they desire to be
It could be a Teacher, Sports related of any kind, Doctors, Lawyers, Professors,
Mayor’s, VP’s and the list goes on and on
It goes beyond the household chores
It’s advancement into opportunities
Becoming their own commodity
Talent women can have and presenting in capability
The legacy women presented their floor plans for tomorrow’s women
Preparation became, “Are you ready?”
Assurance stated “Hold Steady”
Chance being advance
What can the world expect from tomorrow’s women?”
Determination, Encouragement, Achievement, Pursuits and established
Always stand up being proud of who you are
Think on what you can establish
Embrace what you have learned, but never stop
Let understanding be your own concepts on what theories you will put together
Legacy women achieved, and so shall you
Always let your mind be hungry to do more
Fulfill in your heart being a confident sure
Extend Mission, Can, Will and Shall
You hold the key until
Believing and achieving, you shall
Heritage women directed your path
Live for every day and tomorrow will show you the way
Heritage women saved your place in history
Let mystery be your own pull of surprise
Always be wise
Be encouraged and now energize.
With King Con back in his
Mara-a-Lago manse with
its sycophantic members
and his criminal kin, with
the stench of the swamp
that has stunk up our capitol
now firmly ensconced ‘neath
the palm tress in Palm Beach,
let’s pour out the Prosecco,
and toast President Biden,
who along with VP Harris
and a coterie in Congress needs
to do something stunning to
keep Covid from overrunning
our cities and our states who
were abandoned to their fates
by an orange headed clown,
who let our nation down,
who let so many die, because
he didn’t try to martial our
nation’s might, against the
pandemic’s blight, playing
golf instead, playing with
our heads, but let’s not lose
ourselves in tears, rebound
from a terrible four years of
Twitter, Trump, and crazy fears
that our country would not last,
that fascists would amass,
lead our nation to bypass  
the norms and laws that have
kept us free and preserved our
beloved democracy, but the
danger is not gone, and if this
nation is to carry on, we must
stand up and not cower,
support those who are
in power.
Cedric McClester Sep 2019
By: Cedric McClester

They’re nowhere to be found
On this new example of collusion
Which naturally brings us to
A very sad conclusion
Republicans must be under
The false illusion
That the reign of Donal Trump
Isn’t a major intrusion

Ask them what they think
About what’s going on
They’ll offer you a drink
And say you’re clearly wrong
Then talk about the former VP
All day long
Even though the evidence
Against their man is strong

All they care about
Is keeping their seat
And so his indiscretions
Will just repeat
As the Constitution goes down
In defeat
You’ll get talking points from most
Republicans that you meet

They don’t give
A tinker’s ****
About the people
Or this nation
To them Uncle Sam
Remains on permanent vacation
We the people just had ought to
Man our battle stations





             Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2019.  All rights reserved.
Bob B Aug 1
This is the tale of a figure--
One you have noticed by chance--
Who's from the state of Ohio;
He calls himself JD Vance.

He once said Trump was like ******,
But suddenly Trump's now his champ.
Somehow or other the two
Ended up in the same camp.

He's an election denier
And WON'T rest until he defeats
Those who have different opinions.
He CALLS them (oh, horror!) elites!

The country, he says, is controlled by
Childless cat ladies whose aim
Is to make all of us feel
As wretched as they do. Oh, shame!

Hetero parents with children--
Another idea that he floats--
Ought to receive something special,
Which is to get extra votes.

Apparently, Vance thinks our leaders
Can lead only when they have known
What it is like to produce
One or more kids of their own.

(Chorus)
Tell us, please, Mr. Vance,
If you are truly for real.
How many crazy ideas
Do you still plan to reveal?

Vance is opposed to abortion,
Even for ****** or ****.
He thinks that he's pro-life Zorro,
Displaying his sword and his cape.

He says divorce is too easy,
And WE have had more than enough.
But what about violent spouses?
Violent? He would say, Tough.

The firing of all civil servants
Who don’t support MAGA goals
Is HIGH on his shifty to-do list
Once he is at the controls.

President Biden is killing
MAGA voters, says he,
With fentanyl! Oh, my goodness!
Only a fool would agree.

Marriage equality also
Is a big no-no for him.
And slavery's just like abortion!
Vance as VP? Oh, how grim!

(Chorus)
Tell us, please, Mr. Vance,
If you are truly for real.
How many crazy ideas
Do you still plan to reveal?
You and Trump must be looking
For an election to steal.

-by Bob B (7-31-24)
Lawrence Hall Jul 2022
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

       The Secret Service Says: Our Computers Ate Our Homework

Grown women in Colombia, little girls back home
Beating up a woman in a Jerusalem bar
Drunk and disorderly wherever they roam
(Say, Mr. Pence, just step into our car...)

A funny thing, those messages gone missing
And wanting to take the VP - for a ride?
Maybe it was Dear Leader’s * they were kissing
So what has our SS got to hide?

So, yes, we’re all a little bit nervous
About the weirdos and drunks in our Secret Service
sandra wyllie Oct 2021
‘til you crept up my stairs
and stared at me as if I was
a butterfly landing on your
knee. And you, a flea

dancing in-between the hairs
on my head. I couldn’t shed
you off. You were growing
as Jack’s beanstalk. I hadn’t talked

to a man in years. I spend
my mornings hunched over my laptop
in a straight-back chair. My lines
are flat as the honeysuckle mat

at my front door. None step on
it. It’s quicksand. It ***** you in
and pulls you down into the dirt
cellar of all my troubles. And you’re

not a bottom dweller. No, you’re
a VP. I spilled myself over you,
as if I was perfumed powder snowing
on your shoes. But you were firmly fixed

as the cement poured on my sidewalk
and a house of bricks. Solid as the old oak
standing in my yard. Your face, the moon –
your eyes the stars.
JOURNEY

wearing a thick fog
the mountain ventured
into a nearby valley

as suddenly and silently
as a mountain could
if it so choose

the night also
aided and abetted
its efforts

it splashed through
a wide river and over
a geographical border

to the next country
without anyone
being anything the wiser

it saw towns
and more humans than
it had ever seen in its life

the noise and activity
troubled its thoughts
and it turned and returned

before the new day dawned
it decided to stay
in the place where it was

born
clutching a morning to itself
winking at me

telling me to tell
nobody
of what I had seen

of its wandering
or the thoughts
that lay

sleeping
in its great
granite mind.

*

From the Bible. It is recorded in the 1582 Rheims Bible, in Matthew XXI 21, as: "If you shal haue faith, and stagger not, ... and if you shal say to this mountaine, Take vp and throw thy self into the sea, it shal be done."

— The End —