Where do we meet
    Oh! No He_*
Getting onto
the next courses
Oh La- La "Cheri"
K>ANSAS>>City
_ Prime spot pretty

 let's >- jump ))) To Love
Please raise the horses

What a skirt steak in her
Petticoat Junction
Going to Kansas City affection
Different tribe or breed
What needs to love me
tender Elvis meet Beavis Buthead
    More  T.L.C  
computer DOC Tick Tock
IRS taking a meat beef
chunk is everybody drunk
IOS what is really the meat
Business Politician Trump

Subscribe well done
Cooked or rare spooked
Taking a Spin City kick
She got canned and licked
The prime meat hot seat

The ******* who arrives
first class steak knifes
Ms. Pork hard chew 
Mr. Beans second rate
Dark pumpernickel
Saloon *******, he
is eating
The young tender
chicken leg

High five thigh? Hands
up Robin Fly
Save the meat "let it be"
  "Let it Be" Beatles
The beat Colonel deep fried
Grade A rare meat slicing

Eating in a board meeting
The pig meat market
of pricing

Doe a deer he loves
International beer
A very sensitive time
Slaughterhouse no way out
His poker face meets
potato heads beef jerky
Surrender Weds
maple smiles picky
The rich Syrup
Disney Mickey Mouse
Kansas City Wonder
meat house

The beauty of animals
"Moms kettle she is talking
to Parrots" meat
the market for rings riot
Six enemies making
6 rounds
Six servants 666 carats
Robin smiles heartily
"Campbells Chicken" little

He's the Beef Man stew
If you only knew
He's spitting tobacco chew
She peels the potato for the
meathead bad to the
T-bone Dachshund I Bone

Garlic knots heart of the
Sausage wearing the
meat corsage Superbowl
My sweet basil good soul
Grilling your bullhead
Pirate Ribeye steak pupils
Mr. "Billygoat" Bachelorette
Hair flat crepe Suzette

Moms Korean style fuss
coleslaw what a seesaw
Playing Porgy and Bess
 Scarlet the red rare meat
Rolling stone baking pin
Mississippi one or two
Under my meaty thumb

Comes in three-4-5-6- Lucky 7
-Crazy 8 furries
Nine meat ribs-10 babies
with bibs
Hungry Man meat when!!
Country plaid tablecloth
"Kansas Men" of the cloth
The Pig approval
Kansas City Mayor
new arrival

Family together eating
Don't eat our animals
Why is life so unfair
Feeding the poor
with cans
The bad cut of meat devil
this is not the "Grade A"
This is not a ring
circus trainer Bullseye

Robin coffee animal-friendly
Two peas in a pod I pods
  I tune like Gods
Were the luckiest people to have
animals  

The Floridian with dog murals
Palm trees green thumb
plants sunshine events
The symphony dog tails
of hunts
Whats to compare her twilight
eyes hold the moment stare
Talk to the animal's hearts care

a princess sits in her royal lounge
troubled at mind, restless of heart
trembling limbs and parched tongue
the rivers in her eyes betray
the sorrow that drowns her soul
with shaking fingers she struggles
for a firm grip on her quill
her heart pours out in fluid words
to express a love nursed for years

“My Lord, from childhood I have heard
of your courageous acts and kind character
of your handsomeness and perfectness
and I am unable to draw my mind away
from thoughts of you and yours
I am shamelessly besotted by you
Like a sunflower that is drawn to the sun
I am drawn to you
It is against the common notion
for a woman to ask a man
to take her hand in marriage
I break every tradition,
but Mukunda, answer my question-
which woman, high-born
and well-versed in all the arts,
will not wish to be your consort-
and besides I have already considered myself
wedded to you, in thought and spirit
is it not immoral then
when I consider myself a married woman
and when I am already yours
body, mind and soul,
to allow me another marriage?
My brother Rukmi has arranged
a marriage for me, and it is in the morrow
my heart sinks in sorrow
you are my saviour-
it behooves you to come
and claim what is yours
and how to accomplish it without needless bloodshed
need not cause you worry, for I have a plan
tomorrow morning I shall go for my pre-nuptial prayer
at the temple in the outskirts
away from curious eyes
and it is from there
that you can take me
please do come Krishna and save me
from this mockery of a marriage
I have already said that I am yours
and if you do not come, I shall
with no second thought ensure
that I am no longer alive
to be the object of another man’s desire
and if not in this birth, we shall
in another birth be man and wife”

she seals the letter with  burning tears
and entrusts in a priest’s willing hands to deliver
this receptacle of her hopes and fears
a sliver of hope begins to glimmer
as exhaustion finally takes over
and sleep beckons with gentle hands
to distant happier lands

In the morning she awakes
mind no more clouded or deluded
a faith unshaken that strengthens
as her messenger arrives
bearing happy news
her heart gladdens

Krishna will come – of that she is sure
a love denied will now be hers
the blush of excitement gives way
to shyness - kept so far at bay
the letter was written boldly enough
but now her maiden coyness asserts its sway
with eager pulsing heart she awaits
the moment of freedom and fastening
with her love – it seems too long a day!

In her best finery she is bedecked
a bride blossoming like a flower
eyes shining like diamonds
in their excitement
nocturnal hair that falls to her waist
in a tidy plait
lips tinged with a secret smile
an accompaniment to her glowing face
her blush spreads
like a rose amongst jasmines

with slow sure steps
and comely gait
eyes glistening with hope
and conviction strengthened with faith
she proceeds towards the temple
with sincere emotion she prays

“Devi Parvati, with your motherly grace
look upon me with your kind gaze
as once through penance you gained
your true love as a husband
I too embark today
on a quest to find my way
to him who is my very soul- I pray
let Krishna me my husband”

As every minute passes hope grows
and then she hears his majestic roar
like  a dark thunder-cloud he appears
his turmeric vestment blowing in the wind
and like lighting in the night sky
suddenly and nimbly he hoists her
onto his chariot and they are away

and then the powerful anticipation of this moment gave way
to its pure enjoyment, the company of the loved one

and thus it was that the unflinching Rukmini
wedded Krishna one day.

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
        10.9.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

"She will dance with me,"
He murmured to himself,
"If I bring her a white rose,
Pure as a snowflake,
And sweet as a summer day."

Sitting there in the garden,
His blue eyes fell shut
As the wind ran her fingers
Through his dark hair.
His lips parted in a sigh,
Enjoying the warm afternoon sun
And the thoughts of the one he loves.

"His is the song I've sung
My entire life,"
Chirped the little nightingale,
"Without knowing it,
I have told his story a thousand times
To the moon and the stars
That light the night sky.
I've sung of hope and joy
And True Love and
Happily Ever Afters
To the trees and the flowers
That in this garden grow."

But the young man cried,
"But I have no rose to give her!"
He covered his face with his hands
And cried.
His whole body shook
As the hope for real love,
The kind that many people
Spend their whole lives looking for
In all the wrong places,
Flew away in the wind.
"She'll never realize I am the one for her,
If I cannot find a white rose
And ask her to dance,"
He cried.

The little nightingale's heart was touched
By the young lover.
She cried out her song for him,
For all the lost loves in the world.
He, she determined, was not going to be one of them.
The nightingale decided that
She would find him a rose,
With which he could woo the girl he so loved.

She flew on delicate wings to the rose bush
That grew beside the fountain.
"If you would give me a pure white rose,
I will sing you my sweetest song
All the nights of my life."
But the rose bush answered,
"I have only yellow roses,
Bright as lemons and sunshine,
And sweet as springtime honey.
Ask my brother who climbs the arbor,
He may give you what you desire."

So the sweet nightingale flew to the rose vine
That was tangled on the arbor.
"If you would give me a pure white rose,
I will sing you my sweetest song
All the nights of my life."
But the rose vine replied,
"I have only pink roses,
Pink as a maiden's blush
On the day she weds her beau.
Ask my brother who grows
Under the young man's window.
He may give you what you desire."

So the nightingale flew to the rose bush
That grew under the young man's window.
"If you would give me a pure white rose,
I will sing you my sweetest song
All the nights of my life."
To which the rose bush replied,
"I have only red roses,
Dark and rich as faerie wine,
Red as the blood of your heart,
Sweeter than stolen kisses under the moon.
But I can give you a white rose."
Filled with hope and joy,
The nightingale replied,
"I will give anything for a white rose,
What must I do?"
The rose bush shook its petals sadly.
"The way is too awful.
I cannot tell you."
The nightingale knew the value of love;
She would do anything for the rose.
"There is a way, little bird.
By moonlight you must come close
And press you breast against my thorns.
Love is sharp and you must not be afraid.
You must sing your sweetest song all night,
And press closer to me,
Until my thorn pierces your heart
And all your heart-blood runs out.
It is the only way."

The nightingale thought about this.
"What price would not be paid for love?
How much greater is the love of this young man
Than the life of a little bird?
This I will gladly do,
For true love's sake."

So the nightingale flew across the garden,
Where the lover had not yet dried
The tears from his eyes.
His cheeks were stained
Pink with his sadness,
His eyes shimmered with tears yet unreleased.
She sang to him to be hopeful,
To believe in his love,
And that all will be well.
The blue-eyed young man
Smiled at the nightingale,
For her song was beautiful,
Though he did not understand.

The nightingale flew about the garden,
Enjoying the beauty of life.
She sang to the oak trees and the daffodils,
And they wept that they would not hear her song again.
They were comforted that she would be silenced for love,
For love has no price too great.

The earth ate the last rays of the sun
And the moon shone
Wan and pallid in the night sky.
She, too, was sad to hear only this one last song
From the nightingale.

Then the bird flew to the red rose bush
And pressed her breast against the thorn.
She sang her sweetest song.
It was so beautiful that all the dead lovers of the world
Shuddered in their graves
With the reminder of the love in life,
The wind joined her voice with the nightingale's
And carried her song to the ends of the the earth,
To the darkest caves where Echo returned it,
To the ocean's waves that kept the time,
To the peaceful moors where the grass danced along,
To the sleeping child to give her sweet dreams.

"Closer, closer!"
Urged the rose bush,
"I must taste your heart's blood
Before dawn,
Or the rose will not be done."

So the nightingale pressed closer still to the thorn
As the rose bush spun the most beautiful rose
It had ever spun.
But red! A red red rose it was.
"Closer still!"
Cried the rose bush,
And the nightingale pressed closer until her heart was pricked.
A bolt of pain struck the nightingale
And her song rang out through the garden,
Her melody, sweet with love and anguish,
Reached the ears of the young man.
He sat up in his bed,
And was so moved by the nightingale's song,
He stayed awake to listen.

As the nightingale's heart-blood poured onto the rose,
The reddest rose washed white as a freshly fallen snow,
Her tears mingled with the blood,
For only blood can wash out blood,
And only tears can heal.
And so the red rose became white,
As dewdrops and starlight,
As the nightingale's voice grew faint.
And she fell to the ground as the first breath of dawn
Shone gray on the horizon.

The whole garden heaved a sigh
As the nightingale's song was done.
A chorus of flowers and crickets and wind
Sang their mournful song
For the little nightingale
Who gave her life for love.

When the sun had risen in the sky,
The young man walked out into the garden
And saw the white rose.
Carefully he cut it, admiring its beauty.
He did not notice the nightingale,
Laying dead on the ground.

He gazed at the rose in awe,
And inhaled its damask perfume.
It smelled of starlight and sweet dreams,
Of mothers' lullabies and midnight kisses,
Of laughter and heartache,
Of True Love and tender death.

"This is the rose for my beloved,"
He said to himself,
And he prepared himself for the ball.

That night, when the sun had set again,
He met his fair lady, whom he so dearly loved.
"This rose is for you, so that you will dance with me."
He handed her the rose, the white rose with no thorns.
She took it gently, breathing in its scent.

"Dear boy, I will dance with you tonight."

He took her hand and led her out onto the floor.
They danced and danced
All through the evening,
More than rules of decency allow.
She smiled and laughed and fell in love.

When the evening closed
And it was time to go home,
She held the white rose close to her heart
And breathed in its sweet perfume.
Her heart was happy
And faintly, a nightingale's song
Seemed to whisper in her ear.
She grabbed the young man by the hand,
The man whom she loved.

"I will dance with you all the nights of my life,
If you so desire," she whispered.
"My darling, I desire no more," the young man smiled,
His blue eyes sparkling in the lamplight.

For love is a silly thing.
It is not half so useful as logic,
But it is twice so important.
True Love tells only things
That are the most true.
It tells of joy and comfort,
But also of sacrifice and pain.
And in this age,
Though to be practical is everything,
Love is the most important of all.

A nobler king had never breath--
  I say it now, and said it then.
Who weds with such is wed till death
  And wedded stays in Heaven. Amen.

(And oh, the shirts of linen-lawn,
  And all the armor, tagged and tied,
And church on Sundays, dusk and dawn.
  And bed a thing to kneel beside!)

The bravest one stood tall above
  The rest, and watched me as a light.
I heard and heard them talk of love;
  I'd naught to do but think, at night.

The bravest man has littlest brains;
  That chalky fool from Astolat
With all her dying and her pains!--
  Thank God, I helped him over that.

I found him not unfair to see--
  I like a man with peppered hair!
And thus it came about. Ah, me,
  Tristram was busied otherwhere....

A nobler king had never breath--
  I say it now, and said it then.
Who weds with such is wed till death
  And wedded stays in Heaven. Amen.

Two fictional characters
walk into a bar

in Malta
( * Marsaxlokk - to be precise ).

"To...be....tooo beee. . ."
stammers Hamlet.

"Oh fer Gawd's sake...two beers!"
J. Alfred Prufrock snaps.

"You really milk that
"To be or not..." thingy."
J.A.P. scolds Hamlet.

"Tsk...tsk!" Hamlet tsk tsks.
( sticking his tongue out ).

Two Cisks are plonked
down before them.

"No...I am not Prince Hamlet or
was meant to be..!"
J.A.P. quotes him self.

"Awww fer Jaysus sake...loooook
just for the fun of it...the gas of it

we swop
texts!"

Hamlet interrupts Prufrock's
protestations.

"Ohhhh....o.....K?"
Prufrock ponders somewhat doubtfully.

And, so:
Hamlet the Dane

( for yea it is indeed he)
dares

(1) to eat a peach (2) wear the bottoms of his white
flannel trousers rolled (3) parts his hair behind even

(4) dares
to aks

the overwhelming question

"( Oh, do not ask, what is it! )"

Oh & (5) gets to hear
( ** ** ** )

"...the mermaids singing...."

Prufrock "Hum...."
kills the king.

Becomes the king.

Beds.
Weds
Ophelia.

" Buzz buzz...come come..go...go!"

"It's a very foreshortened
Hamlet...I know

but - what the heck!

"See..? slurps Hammy
". . . now, that wasn't so bad...was it?"

"Another Cisk?"
"Naw...I'll have a Becks!"

"Jaysus Prufrock now
...what's up?"

"Don't know..."mutters J.A.P.
wearing a frothy beer moustache.

"HURRY UP PLEASE...IT'S TIME!"
roars the barman in Maltese.

"I can connect nothing
with...nothing!"
Prufrock almost sobs.

"Like that time
on Margate sands..."

Hamlet cuts him curtly off.

"Don't even go...there!"

"But I still get that squirmy
...you know...feeling

we are just
fragments of

the imagination of
some *long haired Irish poet

sunning himself by
the waters of

the shimmering waters of
a Sliema hotel pool

...up up in the clouds!

Hamlet sighs.

"Yeah, me too
spooky...innit?"

Hamlet looks behind him
checking for what isn't

there. . .

"Ahhhh well, never mind eh?"

Prufrock attempts an attempt
at being cheerful.

Fails miserably.

"Let us go, then
you and I...

when the evening is spread out
against the sky..."

Like a patient etherised upon a table!
they both sing outta time and outta tune

stumbling one
into the other.

A long hair Irish poet
smiles as he watches them

go.

"Għaġġel fil-għoli...wasal iż-żmien JEKK JOGĦĠBOK!"
the barman roars.

NOTES

Pronounced MAR SA SCHLOCK. Those Maltese Xs being really SHs in disguise.

* Pronounced CHISK but the new barman is obviously new to the language and pronounces it TSK which makes him think that is what our two fictional characters are ordering.

Not to be confused with mobile texting but rather the literary texts of which both of them owe their existence.

* The play bounded in a nutshell as it were.

One Donall Gearld Oliver Denis Dempsey is a good example of this sort.

* The No. 1 song all over Heaven...beating Sparks THE NO. 1 SONG ALL OVER HEAVEN  to the top spot.

** "Għaġġel fil-għoli...wasal iż-żmien JEKK JOGĦĠBOK!" Once again the new Irish barman hasn't got his tonsils around the Maltese lingo and comes out with this terrible mish mash of the typical barman's cry.

tues.
exhausted piano teeth mozart pere
gnashing slashing sound barrier
stretching zoology beyond the bird
cannibals in the a-z azimuth

weds.
mirage of red awnings all-night resort
cannibals in the azimuth stairwell décor

thurs.
cold as leprosy embraced
yet somehow curled

fri.
frail departure voice to ****
height hair duck drake
cold as geology young rocks flame
(hidden within the blink of eye)

I am so sick of love.
Loyalty, honesty, dedication, compassion, compromise, for better or for worse (when it's always worse)!
I am so sick of love, and all the drama that accompanies it.
Most of all what makes me absolutely ill, in a brain and heart exploding in anger and disappointment respectively, kind of way,
are the Lies!
"You're all I want", "I need you", "I need a friend", "I still love you", "I will always love you", "Is there any chance?", "Can we get back together?",
all the attention seeking, melodramatic, time-consuming crap!
Followed by guilt. That nauseous feeling of, what if? What If? WHAT IF?
Was it the right thing? Will I find another? What about the broken heart?
The sleepless nights of pondering how to end things, the poems written and unpublished, the practising in front of the mirror, cigarettes to channel the guilt elsewhere...
For crying out loud!
After years of guiding me, I should have given way more credit to my instincts.

And now for the new chapter. Embracing an old art, new to me. Currently so underrated and misjudged by priests, mothers and newly-weds.  
The philosophy of zero expectations to infinite pleasure and everything in between.
No regrets, no time wasted (and hell was my time wasted on you!#$#$#$).
Time to give up my soul to the darkness, (God, I hope you'll understand I still love and believe you, but I prayed and prayed. I can't wait any more!) and my body to the sailor boy!
Absolutely No Strings Attached.
No *******, no promises, just *** (and cuddles), a lot of *** (and waking up next to him?)
Anyway, NO STRINGS ATTACHED! [Except for the invisible, really strong one. He is irresistible after all and I'm a dreamer who never, ever learns, and follows her instincts way too much!]

One thing's for sure.
I am so profoundly sick of love!

I’m sorry I took a month to respond.
I’m late because I didn’t know what to say.
I say “I know this is still really painful”
but what I’m really trying to say is “I’m sorry.”

And by “I’m sorry” I mean
“I’ll never forgive myself for the pain I caused you.”
Caused us both.
And by "us both" I mean this was hard for me too
because I’m the one who had to make the decision.

And by make the decision I mean I’m the one
who had to take a real, hard look at us, you know?
I’m the one who had to tug the thread
and feel the unraveling in my hands,
and watching the unraveling in your eyes,
and do the unraveling of our life.
I’m the one who had to face what neither of us would.
We hadn’t had *** in months.
We were newly weds.

And I’m sorry we were newly weds.
We should’ve been newly broken up.
And what I mean is that
I shouldn’t have married you in the first place.
I shouldn’t have planned a wedding with you.
I shouldn’t have said yes.

And what I mean is that I felt the burning in my belly
that night you asked me to choose you as my knight,
and to assume the role as your queen.
And by burning in my belly I mean I knew
even then that my “yes” was tentative
and that it felt more like a “maybe”
and that maybe I wouldn’t go through with this at all.
But what do you say, other than an emphatic “yes,"
to the man who has loved you for a decade?

And what I mean to say is that the “yes” wasn’t mine.
It was theirs
and it was yours
and it was ours,
but it wasn’t mine.
What I had was “no.”
Because what do you say, other than an emphatic “no,”
to the man who has tried to love you for a decade?

So my “no” sounded a lot like a “yes” that night
and I’m sorry I got them confused.

And what I mean is that you deserved better.
Not someone better than me; that’s not what I mean.
What I mean is that you deserved courage.
You deserved all of the courage
I let hide behind the moon that night,
and all of the courage
I tucked toward the back of our closet those months,
and all of the courage
I swallowed in favour of a more palatable flavour that year.

And what I mean is that I should have said “no.”
That you deserved “no.”
And all of this is just to say that I ****** up,
and that maybe I was stuck in the Upside Down
where weakness looked like strength,
and absconding looked like leaving boldly,
and “no” looked like “yes,”
and “I do” sounded a whole lot like “forever”
didn’t it?

“To my love, forever”
I said.
Emphasis on the comma before “forever”
because I never could pass up an opportunity to be pretentious.
And what I mean is that
I’m sorry I got your ring engraved with “forever”
when “forever” meant more like a year-ish
and I’m sure as hell positive
that you haven’t felt like “my love,”
have you?

And so I’m sorry I said “forever”
when what I meant to say was “not ever.”
How freeing that would’ve been for us.
And by freeing I mean I could’ve saved us both from this mess.
From this d-i-v-o-r-c-e that we now have tattooed on our hearts.

And so I’m sorry I didn’t say all that I meant to say.
And that it’s too late to say any of it now,
because now we’re strangers,
but what I meant to say that day is that
I love you
and
I want to leave you.

Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.

Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say
What was this forest savage, rough, and stern,
Which in the very thought renews the fear.

So bitter is it, death is little more;
But of the good to treat, which there I found,
Speak will I of the other things I saw there.

I cannot well repeat how there I entered,
So full was I of slumber at the moment
In which I had abandoned the true way.

But after I had reached a mountain's foot,
At that point where the valley terminated,
Which had with consternation pierced my heart,

Upward I looked, and I beheld its shoulders,
Vested already with that planet's rays
Which leadeth others right by every road.

Then was the fear a little quieted
That in my heart's lake had endured throughout
The night, which I had passed so piteously.

And even as he, who, with distressful breath,
Forth issued from the sea upon the shore,
Turns to the water perilous and gazes;

So did my soul, that still was fleeing onward,
Turn itself back to re-behold the pass
Which never yet a living person left.

After my weary body I had rested,
The way resumed I on the desert *****,
So that the firm foot ever was the lower.

And lo! almost where the ascent began,
A panther light and swift exceedingly,
Which with a spotted skin was covered o'er!

And never moved she from before my face,
Nay, rather did impede so much my way,
That many times I to return had turned.

The time was the beginning of the morning,
And up the sun was mounting with those stars
That with him were, what time the Love Divine

At first in motion set those beauteous things;
So were to me occasion of good hope,
The variegated skin of that wild beast,

The hour of time, and the delicious season;
But not so much, that did not give me fear
A lion's aspect which appeared to me.

He seemed as if against me he were coming
With head uplifted, and with ravenous hunger,
So that it seemed the air was afraid of him;

And a she-wolf, that with all hungerings
Seemed to be laden in her meagreness,
And many folk has caused to live forlorn!

She brought upon me so much heaviness,
With the affright that from her aspect came,
That I the hope relinquished of the height.

And as he is who willingly acquires,
And the time comes that causes him to lose,
Who weeps in all his thoughts and is despondent,

E'en such made me that beast withouten peace,
Which, coming on against me by degrees
****** me back thither where the sun is silent.

While I was rushing downward to the lowland,
Before mine eyes did one present himself,
Who seemed from long-continued silence hoarse.

When I beheld him in the desert vast,
'Have pity on me, ' unto him I cried,
'Whiche'er thou art, or shade or real man! '

He answered me: 'Not man; man once I was,
And both my parents were of Lombardy,
And Mantuans by country both of them.

'Sub Julio' was I born, though it was late,
And lived at Rome under the good Augustus,
During the time of false and lying gods.

A poet was I, and I sang that just
Son of Anchises, who came forth from Troy,
After that Ilion the superb was burned.

But thou, why goest thou back to such annoyance?
Why climb'st thou not the Mount Delectable,
Which is the source and cause of every joy? '

'Now, art thou that Virgilius and that fountain
Which spreads abroad so wide a river of speech? '
I made response to him with bashful forehead.

'O, of the other poets honour and light,
Avail me the long study and great love
That have impelled me to explore thy volume!

Thou art my master, and my author thou,
Thou art alone the one from whom I took
The beautiful style that has done honour to me.

Behold the beast, for which I have turned back;
Do thou protect me from her, famous Sage,
For she doth make my veins and pulses tremble.'

'Thee it behoves to take another road, '
Responded he, when he beheld me weeping,
'If from this savage place thou wouldst escape;

Because this beast, at which thou criest out,
Suffers not any one to pass her way,
But so doth harass him, that she destroys him;

And has a nature so malign and ruthless,
That never doth she glut her greedy will,
And after food is hungrier than before.

Many the animals with whom she weds,
And more they shall be still, until the Greyhound
Comes, who shall make her perish in her pain.

He shall not feed on either earth or pelf,
But upon wisdom, and on love and virtue;
'Twixt Feltro and Feltro shall his nation be;

Of that low Italy shall he be the saviour,
On whose account the maid Camilla died,
Euryalus, Turnus, Nisus, of their wounds;

Through every city shall he hunt her down,
Until he shall have driven her back to Hell,
There from whence envy first did let her loose.

Therefore I think and judge it for thy best
Thou follow me, and I will be thy guide,
And lead thee hence through the eternal place,

Where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations,
Shalt see the ancient spirits disconsolate,
Who cry out each one for the second death;

And thou shalt see those who contented are
Within the fire, because they hope to come,
Whene'er it may be, to the blessed people;

To whom, then, if thou wishest to ascend,
A soul shall be for that than I more worthy;
With her at my departure I will leave thee;

Because that Emperor, who reigns above,
In that I was rebellious to his law,
Wills that through me none come into his city.

He governs everywhere, and there he reigns;
There is his city and his lofty throne;
O happy he whom thereto he elects! '

And I to him: 'Poet, I thee entreat,
By that same God whom thou didst never know,
So that I may escape this woe and worse,

Thou wouldst conduct me there where thou hast said,
That I may see the portal of Saint Peter,
And those thou makest so disconsolate.'

Then he moved on, and I behind him followed.

Les mariés de Drémil-Lafage

Nadjet et Jonathan
S'étaient choisis
Et se marièrent civilement
En la mairie de Saint-Orens.
L'adjoint était empli de bonne volonté
Et apporta aux jeunes époux
Le sourire de la République.
Puis nous nous rendîmes
A Drémil-Lafage où
Plus de quarante ans avant
J'avais collé des affiches.
Les nouveaux mariés avaient
Loué une berline noire,
Et la robe de la mariée resplendissait,
De ce blanc éclatant de neige.
Se prolongeant d'une longue traîne.
Je n’oublierai pas non plus
La cravate de Toinou, achetée à Venise,
comme un zeste  de Woodstock.
Nous nous rendîmes sous un auvent,
Et y connurent des aperçus sur la vie passée,
De Nadjet et de Jonathan,
Qui s'étaient connus au lycée Déodat de Séverac,
Ce grand Musicien Occitan,
Avaient eu le coup de foudre
Et plus **** avaient pris leur décision
De s'unir à Barcelone qui est comme Florence,
Ville des amours de diamant pur.
Un rituel du sable nous surpris tous
Mêlant deux variétés de sable,
En un creuset de sable commun.
Ce symbole fit grande impression
Et apporta une touche spirituelle
Alors qu'un Olivier assez petit,
Mais noueux et robuste
Décorait la pelouse,
Ainsi qu'une fontaine
Arrosant des galets,
Et des roseaux, hauts dressés.
Nadjet aux yeux de braise
Allait de groupe en groupe
Voletant comme une abeille.
La beauté, la grâce, la gentillesse
Des mariés faisaient merveille
Et je songeais à toutes ces
Histoires de famille bien différentes
Au travers de la Méditerranée
Qui s'étaient entrecroisées puis unies
Dans ce pays Toulousain de briques
Au sein de ces peuples au langage chantant,
Depuis si longtemps mêlés
Ayant dû rester eux même et évoluer
De tous ces apports d'Orient,
Si bien rappelés par Abder, le gentleman des deux rives.
Je suis sûr que dans ce restaurant,
Si proche d'un terrain de golf
Que les mariés avaient mis
La boule blanche au cœur du bonheur
Et pris un Ticket gagnant
Pour cet avenir si souhaitable de Paix
Que nous les aiderons a construire
Avec amour et mesure,
Du moins tant qu' il nous restera
Un souffle d'influence
Sur le train de ce Monde aux civilisations
S’entrecroisant trop souvent sans vraiment se connaître  
Qui va si vite et donne parfois
Quelques vertiges, à nous, les parents.
Le repas fut succulent et varié,
Allant crescendo jusqu'à la pièce montée
Qui illumina nos papilles,
Puis les coupes de champagne «Tsarine»
Amenèrent cet effluve slave,
Là où la Méditerranée et l'Occitanie
S'étaient joints comme deux corps
Et deux Esprits tellement curieux
De se découvrir et de s'aimer.
Jeunes mariés et chères civilisations cousines
Ne laissez pas passer vos chances d’entente et de bonheur,
Dans ce Monde où l'on voudrait
Nous faire croire qu'il est fatigué et fermé,
Alors que tant de promesses de créations
Sont possibles et doivent être tenues.

Paul Arrighi

In the forever winter landscape
Live gentle waddling penguins
While fierce forces conspire
All life brushed away
By unforgiving weather
But with an icy resolve
They all push back
Not with a Roar
But a little pitta patta
Of jolly dancing feet
As they happily bubble along  
With defiant hearts whispering
To the weather
With a nonchalance  
Disarming the Gods
   "we don't care"
With a silky soft defiant Roar
They potter on with their day
In a light hearted way  

Traveling through their life
They feel bound by limitation
Limbs retreating,, wings shrinking
Escaping from the weather
As the world places them
In a straight jacket
But they fluff out their
Love filled chests
A dash of yellow
On their cheek
Proclaiming I love who I am
As they slowly press into snow
Heart blazing with white fires
Busily they chatter
Nodding and bowing
To each other

Life pushes newly weds apart
As her ladyship is forced to abandon
Her man to the long winter's night
Left holding the egg
She looks back with a longing glance
Her heart torn
But in the blistering chill winds
And freezing cold air
A cool clarity is born
Where all passions are left
Under sheets of steely ice
And soft blankets of snow
Her task very clear
She pushes on

A trust between partners feels itself called on
Now fierce winds blow through
And into her face
As they now feel so far apart
She stops to take one last look back
And feels an impenetrable bond
Forged in their hearts
As her beak circles the sky
It is as though an arc
Of light is made
A silver connection
Binding them together
As they feel somewhere
In the eternal they remain holding hands

The aspiring father left
Holding precious egg tenderly
Left standing on cold ice
In blistering winds
Four months there left balancing
Treasure softly on his feet
Through the winter's night
Angry winds betrayed by the sun
Sting with a viper's vengeance
As temperatures plummet
-70 and dropping  
Cooperating together they huddle
For their very survival
Perfectly dressed in Tuxedos
Black like death standing on their back
White in front for the devotion
They show us in life
Reliant on each other
They spiral around together
And say
   "together, together we can do it"
As they silently sit through
The long winter's night
Letting go of their resistance
They release a godlike persistence

Over the horizon mothers appear bobbing
Like bubbles of thought bursting
From the flat transcendence
Fulfilled wishes appearing
New mothers pulled forward
By tickles of joy in their hearts
Leaping forward on their bellies
As they collapse in
Boundless devotion
Their hearts drawn forward
Skating along on their Love
They glide.................................
           and slides..................................
On their own pouring devotion...................
Effortless devotion..................................................
They almost fly on their
Unlimited Love

Effortless embracing tasks
Supporting new life
They are filled with the
Ecstasy of fruitful service
Later adults return to water
Float with a grace
Of a dancing ballerina  
As though fuelled by rocket fuel
They leave bubbles like smoke

As we delve into these
Vast fields of devotion
And see these jolly beings
Successfully spilling through
The dark winter's night
As they spread new life
I feel like the great God above
Totally humbled And can only
Kneel and Bow
To the beautiful penguin

To death do us part
I will love you with all of my heart
any issue will be resolved with a kiss
and when you’re away you will be missed
Good bye I say with a kiss on your cheek
and a loving smile, I feel like a geek
I sit at home, awaiting your arrival
but temptations lurk and I cling for survival
My phone rings early in the morning
and the doctors tell you’re now an angel soaring
I cloak myself in black tears falling from my chin
and I walk up to your casket dark
and grim
I feel your small hands to innocent to be dead
sorry says people you were just newly weds
to death do us part
I loved you with all of my heart
and with one final heavy sigh
I tell you your last goodbye

From fairytale princess gowns to feathery mini-dresses, bold skinny trouser looks and showgirl sequins, Bridal Fashion Week had something for brides of every size, shape and style inclination.

White reigned, as did classic silhouettes to please the most traditional bride. For everybody else, there were splashes of color, plenty of fluttery floral applique and sparkle, sparkle, sparkle.

Highlights from the Spring 2017 collections:

CHRISTIAN SIRIANO FOR KLEINFELD

After a smaller, capsule collection for the famed bridal shop, Siriano teamed with Kleinfeld again on a broader range.

His show stopper was a pricey pink ombre ball gown with a sweetheart neckline and skinny straps. As an evening wear designer, Siriano said bridal was a natural fit. He created in a range of sizes up to 24 or 26 — and a range of price points from about $3,500 to about $19,000.

Noting most dresses can be modified, he showed a lot of sleeves. There were long lacy ones on a column gown and a structured, off-the-shoulder pair in satin, embellished with tulle and strings of pearl.

One of his mermaid gowns included cascading ruffles. He used four tiers of ruffle at the bottom of a white, tailored suit jacket with matching boot-cut trousers.

Siriano also offered a range of hem lengths, from well above the knee in an appliqued mini to a fitted tea length with an ornate high neck and dramatic train.

In a backstage interview, Siriano said he's enjoying his first full push into bridal with the 27 pieces for Kleinfeld after focusing most of the time on evening.

"But the customer is so different," he said. "There's not as many rules. You can get away with trying new things, doing new things. It's a little fantasy dream world."

And what will Siriano wear when he weds his longtime boyfriend, Brad Walsh, at their Connecticut house this summer?

"I don't know. Literally we've got nothing," Siriano laughed.

INES DI SANTO

This was a **** runway dominated by sheers holding lots of floral creations in place. Romance meets sensuality is how the Toronto-based designer likes it.

While many of her looks were fit for royalty, complete with extra-long trains, she also ventured into over-the-top. An ultra-short hem with just one long lace sleeve had tulle skirting that skimmed the floor in back and leggings mismatched with floral embellishment, offering the appearance of one bare and one covered.

Spring itself was her inspiration this time around.

"The flowers, the garden, the beautiful trees, the sky, the sun," Di Santo said in an interview.

There were other vibes, in a sleeveless illusion Palazzo romper, for instance, with an encrusted bodice and dramatic detachable bell sleeves.

"I went very soft, romantic. You can see through the layers of the lace, the legs, the tulle," she said.

Like other designers, Di Santo included fit-and-flare looks along with sheaths, A-line silhouettes, halter necks and princess ball gowns.

Her backs and necklines were often illusion style, offering a barely there appearance. She included open bolero jackets for brides looking for a little cover, along with detachable skirt options for those who want to change up the outfit for the reception.

At the core of any bridal collection, Di Santo said, is how the dress speaks to budding love in marriage.

"It's so important," she said. "You can live without many things but you cannot live without love."



OSCAR DE LA RENTA

Designer Peter Copping is making his mark gradually at the storied Oscar de la Renta label, with a mind toward both preserving his predecessor's legacy and modernizing the label in his own way. In his bridal collection, Copping included some looser shapes — not everything was cinched tightly at the waist, princess-style — and even some short bridal gowns.

"I was thinking of the different women who are brides and the different ways women can get married," Copping said in a post-show interview, "because it's not always the same rules or traditions that people are looking for. So I think it's important within the collection to have a good cross-section of dresses, some short, some big columns, a real mix of fabrics."

Indeed, some of the gowns featured the sumptuous, extravagant embroidery for which the house is justly famous, and others featured much subtler embroidery for a more modern look.

"I think it was really just having a complete range of dresses," Copping said. The most striking were two short numbers, a nod to the popularity (and danceability) of shorter lengths, even if you can afford the big princess gown. "Yes I think it's popular," Copping said of the shorter length, "and I also think it's very relevant for rehearsal dinners, where a woman can still feel bridal the night before."

A highlight of the de la Renta bridal show is always the impeccably attired little children modeling flower-girl designs. "Having children here reflects what a real wedding is," said Copping.

And then there was Barbie.

Guests were sent home with the de la Renta Barbie doll, wearing a strapless white lacy column gown with a light blue tulle overskirt — something blue, of course. And in case you were wondering, under the skirt were some teetering white heels. No flats for this miniature bride.



REEM ACRA

For a bride looking to be just a bit daring, visible boning in corseting lent a uniqueness to some of Acra's fitted bodices.

There was an abundance of drama in ultra-long trains and encrusted sheer overlays. And Acra, too, offered a variety of sleeve options, including a web design on a snug pair that ended just above the elbow. The design, almost twig-like, was carried through to the rest of the full-skirted look.

Many of her dress tops were molded at the chest, bustier style, while she played with the lower halves. And some of her silhouettes fit tightly across the rear, sprouting trains where some brides may not feel entirely comfortable sporting one.

Acra put a twist on other trains, creating them to detach and also be used as veils. And she went for laced-up backs, both high and plunging, on some dresses.

In an interview, she called the collection "very airy, very light." Indeed, the stage lights during her show shone right through some of her dresses.

For the edgier bride, one who might appreciate the James Bond music Acra used for her show, she offered an unusual embroidered illusion gown adorned with pearls, white jewel stones and metal grommets.

Today's brides, she said, "have to have fun," adding: "She can't stress out about her wedding. Enjoy the ride and be the bride!"



MONIQUE LHUILLIER

There were lingerie-inspired elements here, too, with a touch of color in rose, pistachio, antique ivory and caramel. There were pops of fuchsia in bloom applique fitting for the outdoor garden where she staged her show.

Lhuillier decorated some organza gowns with hand-painted floral designs in asymmetrical layered tulle and silk organza. Deep necklines were prominent, with simple slip dresses offered along with bohemian gowns of lace and sheer skirts. Lhuillier also used corset bodices paired with cascading tulle skirts.

The collection felt like a chic romp, complete with high slits for a run through nature.

"My woman this season is in love and care free," Lhuillier said in an interview. "A little bohemian but just carefree."

The only clear trend in bridal these days, she said, is the need for designers to present more options.

"My core bride is somebody who loves femininity, she loves tradition but with a modern twist. And she wants something interesting with a lot of details," Lhuillier said.

There's definitely more fashion involved than when she began in bridal 20 years ago.

"One of the main reasons I got into the bridal business was when I was a bride in 1994, looking for a gown, I thought the options were so limited, and there was not a lot of fashion ideas," Lhuillier said.

Her bride doesn't want to be weighed down, however.

"She wants to look effortless," Lhuillier said. "But she wants to feel **** on her wedding day."

Are we all romantics on our wedding day?

"For me it's a really happy business," Lhuillier said. "We all are romantics deep down inside."



Associated Press writer Jocelyn Noveck contributed to this report.Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-melbourne | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth

Once I was stuck in Acapulco
in the rainy season,
for I didn't check the weather for
that time of year
when in need of a
quick getaway

when it is the rainy season
down Acapulco way,
it rains for a season,
not a day
and the roads are
the rivers unmarked on any map

apparently I was not the only idiot

a hotel full of newly weds  
with nothing to do after,
after doing what newly weds do,
they, these many couples
walked,
verily they cruised in D1
around in endless circles on the floor
around the newel post,
of the outdoor lobby,
jailed by the down pouring unceasing

like goldfish in a pond,
I fascinated watched,
expressionless, in motion constant,
speaking not a word to anyone,
even joined in for a splayed day ^

got the hell outta there,
went to Mexico City,
made me another
steve mcqueen quick getaway

had me a fine time there

over thirty yrs later,
the image of the
the fish pond of white humans
swimming in silent circles
still gives me
nightmares

Oh, you got your politico pals
Posting stuff about them blues-and-reds
Oh you got your new-age pals
Posts about their chakra dreads
Oh you got your pervy pals
Posts about their whips and spread
Oh you got your journal pals
Posts about their EX and meds
Oh you got your comic pals
Posts of grumpy cat in bed
Oh you got your trendy pals
Posts of food and celeb weds
Oh you got your gossip pals
Posts about what so-so said
Oh you got your music pals
Posts of bands on every thread
Oh you got your mother pals
Posts of how their babies fed
Oh you got your nightlife pals
Posts of each local they’ve tread
Oh you got your righteous pals
Post of what you need instead
Then you got your artsy pals
Oh someone shoot me in the head!

Mud drenched months, so soporific,
I love and find you beatific
Envelope too my heart and brain
In a gauzy shroud and tomb of pain

The south wind plays on this great plain,
Where nightly creaks the weathervane,
With ebbs and flows, my soul sings
As it extends its raven wings

My heart is filled with dreary things
As it does when frosts descend,
Oh shaded seasons, my regal friends!

Your shadows sweetly lingering,
- Unless in darkness, like newly-weds,
Numbing the pain of a hazardous bed.

If that Shirazi Turk would succeed in winning my heart
I'll give up Samarkand and Bukhara, solely for her Indian mole

Serve remained wine, Saki, cause you can't find in the paradise
Such a place as Ruknabad stream and Musall's gardens

Oh! these gypsies who are sweet and set the city to chaos
They drained heart from patience, as Turks take the pillages

My sweetheart's beauty doesn't need my imperfect love
How a beautiful face is in need of paint and powder and mole?

Talk about minstrels and wine, don't seek universe's secret
That is that, no one solved and will solve this enigma by logic

I knew beforehand from ever-improving charm that Joseph possessed
That love finally would bring Zulaikha out of her innocence

You talked to me badly, God forgive you, you said it well
Bitter answer is proper for that red-colored sugar-sweet lips

My soul, listen to advice, for blissful youths like more
That wise old's advises more than their own sweet lives

Hafez! you told Ghazals and pierced pearls, come sing fine
For your harmony in your poetry, Heaven weds Soraya!

Bossa nova, Barcelona, Box and two weeks over,
Music to get hold of,
Newly weds to Right said Fred,
Calypso spot light sun beams down a twinkle baked shoulder to strike a pose.

Bossa nova, what's on, record it,
Promote It with some guile,
He She who stole it,
With limelight their staged arena owned it,
He She dished out the smiles,
They clapped as the show survives,
They danced to each others beat,
Bebop a lula its jive came unique.

Accapella, Bossa nova, Hosanna from the highest,
Bossa nova, a rock n roller, a ballad till midnight,
Encore if you got through the night in hindsight,
Stage Fright had this moment,
What is going on?
Bingo numbers,
Feathers a house!

Bossa nova it aint over till its over as for a starlight it may strike the board with a star face in the sun.

Now maybe, maybe not that's a Bossa nova!

O'Reily@20082014

To the times I said I wouldn't like you,
But I'd look into your eyes,
And every ounce of self control,
Couldn't fight away the butterflies.
For the tongue tied moments when I'd see you,
And every pretty, witty thing I ever wanted to say,
Completely left my mind.
To every awkward silence,
Where I was too busy daydreaming,
To say anything meaningful.

What is love?
Is it like a one way street,
Where you either go with it,
Or you get run over?




So this is for the newly weds.
The lovers,
The taken,
The single.
It's for the heartbroken,
The confused,
The lost,
And the gone.


*What is love?

Look at the sky, this can't be true,
The waves of passion splashing bright hue;
Wetting the world with sweet vapours, an aura so new,
Am I in the cradle of heaven? I have no clue.

I fear my churning emotions, vulnerable and timid,
Slumber is now a traitor under my closed eyelid;
Shhh … those are whispers of Aphrodite and Cupid,
Silencing all my doubts,”is it a sin I did?”

Never before have I fought a battle so sweet,
Arrows struck, heart swelled with its heat;
I surrender; in this war I gladly accept defeat,
Laying all my weapons at your feet.

I was a delicate glass, being filled with the royal wine,
Careful not to spill an ounce, even under the stress of a tine;
Could I enquire, such addictive taste exists in whose vine?
A magic which could make nectar out of nicotine.

How could a slight gaze invoke such mountains of desire?
Veins which never existed now tingle with fire;
In resonance to your presence, my senses change attire,
I can’t find my heart. Did you steal, borrow or hire?

Roars of celebration, as clarity weds confusion,
Heart and mind continue to exist as characters of fiction;
Is it LOVEocracy or LOVEarchy ? Hold election,
How have I been conquered? I need depiction.

The pixels of sanity escape, leaving behind tender pores,
How do I fill these? I spot only a single recourse;
To inhale the oxygen of happiness, I have none but a single source,
Who can squeeze, topple, and bounce my heart, without a trace of force.

I would reform from a flower to a drooling leaf,
Am lustrous and luminous only under your ownership, you thief!
You wouldn’t depart from this sack of gold is my belief,
I would always possess a memory of our time is my relief…

let’s love the lawn
sweetheart
let’s trim the lawn;
let’s get it cut
and neat and fine;
let’s do the groovy lawn dance
baby
so the neighbors will be
green as nourished grass


let’s feed the lawn
sweetheart
all chemicals and fertilizers;
let’s read the warnings first
baby:
keep away from eyes
wear a face mask
and spread generously
on lawn


let’s keep the lawn beautiful
and pleasant
like the ancient fields of Albion,
sweetheart;
it’s time for the ****-killer sprays
and conscientious as we are
we use only enviro-friendly
so let’s read the instructions
baby:
Keep spray away from drains
and eyes and skin
and do not spray before rain


Ah, come on
ladies and gentlemen
of our distinguished
blue ribbon suburbs;
out all with your chemicals
and all our pesticides
to **** the grubs and such pests



come all, Old Ken
and newly-weds Lily and Peter
and new-arrivals Tan and Goh
we’ll show you how;
come sweethearts
come let’s dance in the fields of cherished suburbs
and let the earth yield a great big burb


this is the way
we spray chemicals
this is the way we **** our weeds;
this is the way we fertilize our lawns
this is the way we spray pesticides
early morning
every Spring and Summer
this is the way we do it
early morning
every Spring and Summer

so let’s love the lawn
sweetheart
let’s trim the lawn;
let’s get it cut
and neat and fine;
let’s do the groovy lawn dance
baby
so the neighbors will be
green as nourished grass

Oh, Oh --
She's so Tiger Chic
yeah, she's the kinda woman
the kind you wanna meet--
when you pass her  
when you pass her on the street--
it could be in London /it could be in L.A.
a starry night in New York
or, in the middle of the day
you'll just be so happy
she happened across your way--

Oh, Oh -- and she's so Tiger Chic --
she's so badass in the Boardroom
she's even badass when she's sweet
Oh, Oh --  a badass kinda woman
the kind you really wanna meet.

Oh, Oh --and she's so Tiger Chic
she's doing calculous in her head--
n' she wants it poetic in her bed--
Oh -n' btw, she wants the pre-nup before she even weds--

She's an independent woman
yeah, she's so on her game
she's the kinda woman
that's gonna hyphenate her name

Oh, Oh-- n' she's so Tiger Chic
the kinda woman
you'd beg to meet.

The man at the studio doesn't like us

we aren't pretty as the teens
not dazzling like the newly weds
our faces are pretty grim
smiles are once a river
foreheads dry riverbeds
eyes hold no commotion
but he does it for money
and winds up quick.

We walk to the river
where under the grey February sky
she plays with our reflections
babbling and breaking us
into unreadable pieces.

the aboriginal have their paddles out... between
each rower an anchor replacement, protesting shadows
with words: i'm anchored, i ain't moving...
imagine Euro-vision in Melbourne.
i've never experienced such
a continental drift,
my god i've heard of men walking
the moon but this beats it,
i know the nostalgia for the roman empire
is stronger, stronger even than
the nostalgia of german poets regarding
ancient greece, but this is becoming insane!
i know the u.s.a. is in a state of decay,
they joked at the billionaire because of his
looks, but Donald Reagen was but an actor,
who's ha ha with me?
seriously, they told the aboriginals to take up
the oars, Australia will replace England
on the map, just waiting for the lazy Blair elites
to pick up theirs and sail to be the eastern
Hawaii off New Jersey, buggers are too lazy...
wait a minute? why did they include
Australia in the Euro-vision song contest and
not the Kiwis? this is becoming a fiasco as funny
as the hot debate about "peace in the middle east":
serve me the ******* falafel and shut up,
i wouldn't eat McDonald's either, i'll do the nursery
rhyme, but that's as far as i go.
no seriously, why teach geography to children
with all these anomalies? if the Australian
CONTINENT is to replace the great british isles
they'll knock off a bit of Africa on their way here,
that "island" will be a bit of a tight squeeze
to get it through in the continental drift...
oh! oh! like that newly weds car with cans attached
to the bumper, load of cans and christmas tree bulbs,
why don't Fiji and Samoa come along?
i'm sure they'd love to kiss-mooch-mooch with Rhodes
and Corfu... i never thought breeding idiots would
be so easy.. i guess my satire lacked the imagination...
again, seriously, how far is Europe going to extend,
the Israelis love doing politics with America
but prefer to sing and a kick about ******'s
castrato end-product with Europe
(Colonel Bogey March theme-tune, Albert,
say it's true? you do have have that famous Fabergé?!
ooh problems with the connection
at the vote count, Mossad agents aplenty)...
this ain't the new Soviet union, **** sake's
Azerbaijan? new Rome is stretching it,
oblivious to international free trade, it's having
plastic surgery as we speak... when this **** falls
apart i don't want to be here, it's already funny as hell,
i'm just looking out for the next Mongol horde to
smack it into soberness, since it didn't learn how to
laugh drunk.

When a woman explores the deeper meaning of who she is, she is unstoppable.
When she decides to dry her eyes, apply those red lipstick on her lips and become irrisistable.

Her mind is made up, because she was tired of being fed up.
That woman is fierce, driven and is prepared to shatter glass ceilings because she has now found the meaning.

Skipping empty pages hiding her stories...she now fill them with words she was once so afraid to speak, love made her weak.
Look at her now, shattering glass ceilings and she wears her pain well,

She was overwhelmed but she overcame. Without fame she turned heads. I see that woman in me, once possessed by feelings.
She is the daughter of the father who weds her mother...shattering glass ceilings.

S.B

what does it mean
when the dreams you dream
years later, in waking find you?

in response it replied:

material things one weds
will need to be shed
for purpose and light to be true...

I have seen my share of old men
Sitting early in diners:
Widowers, perhaps,
Or never-weds,
Seldom women,
Excepting tired street people,
Tattered bags sprawling
Disheveled out of the wet,
Leaving only when the manager
Steps up with a bottle of soapy water
And a cleaning rag,
The polite symbol of
"It's time to go."

Fast food,
No place to rest,
Up and moving before the family crowd
Can see the riff-raff
Who sat these chairs earlier,
Who hunker now on some lee-side wall
Against the chill spring rain.

Prologue:

Good ol’ Phillip Riley. The reason I am restrained in handcuffs, struggling but not able to put up much of a fight, being carried away from my beautiful -was to be- home. The red and blue lights are splashing back from the wet asphalt onto my cold face. I can assume it will only get worse from here, but it was worth it. She should have never crossed our paths and I have now made sure she will forever regret her decision. The only thing to do now is try and convince the jury this was an innocent act of passion. We will see who’s side they are on, after they hear all of the gruesome facts. All in all, the punishment fits the crime, and I accept.

Chapter 1: Mayville

My name is Mayville Houston. I am a single woman in my early 30s, nothing special. I am a licensed market coordinator at a real estate firm. For those of you who do not know what that is, I handle all of the appointments and paperwork that has to do with putting a home on the market as well as taking the home through escrow when we find a buyer. I love my job and there is always something new every day, but there are parts of it that can be repetitive and difficult. All and all, it is an amazing job and it pays the bills, I am grateful.

I am a coordinator to two amazing agents who are top producers, and hit the ground running every year. Needless to say I have my hands full coordinating these two. It is a blessing and a curse. I am a top performer with the top performers, but a lot of the time my personal life is sacrificed for the customer. Give and take. I start work at 8, make my lunch at 12, finish the day, work out, meditate, journal, paint, and do the activities that keep me sane throughout the day. I love my little life and how hard i have worked to get here.

Although every day is different and interesting things arise, nothing was as interesting as the day Phillip Riley and his wife Amber Riley walked through our office doors. It was a Tuesday like any other, all of us, heads down in our cubicles focusing on our work. I was on my second Redbull of the day, kind of a fanatic for them at the time, i felt that they got me through the day. Of course it was just sugary carbs, but I would be the last person to admit that.

Philip and Amber Riley bursted through our doors around 3:30pm. They had an appointment with my agents regarding some gorgeous houses in the area of Orange County that had caught their eye. I heard them come in, and being my agent’s coordinator, I got up and greeted them kindly, welcoming them to our office and introducing myself as Mayville Houston, my agent’s coordinator who will be assisting with all appointments and paperwork as we take them through escrow. I explained to them how excited I was that my agent Mariela would be taking them to see potential future homes. Amber asked if I would be joining them. I respectfully said I had to stay here at the office and take care of other clients. I could have sworn I saw a flash of sadness in Phillip’s face when I said that, but i have always been one to imagine things. There is no way.

Mariela comes out of her office and introduces herself to Phillip and Amber. Everyone is excited to start phillip and amber’s journey of purchasing a home. I wish them luck and hurry back to my cubicle, but before doing so I hand them a business card, letting them know they can call, text or email me with any questions they had regarding their appointments and paperwork. Mariela, Phillip and Amber were on their way out of the door, and I scurried back to my cubicle, trying to ignore what just happened. I swear I felt electricity between myself and Phillip Riley, but I think all of this time spent in this cubicle has me imagining things that just are not true.

Chapter 2: Phillip

*******, did I just witness an angel walk into the same room as me? She is going to help my wife and I purchase a home in the suburbs?

This is crazy. I am 35, settling down with my gorgeous wife Amber. She has strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, skin as fair as a cherub angel, and a smile that could knock you dead. We are newly weds, so happy to be too. We recently married last August, and when we started discussing a more permanent place, neither of us could be happier about the idea.

But that was before I saw her. Mayville Houston. Apparently Mayville is what they call a “coordinator” in the real estate world. She deals with all of our paperwork, appointments, and assisting us through escrow. I did not know what that job entailed until she told me. Until her soft, plump lips and perfect smile explained her role as her luscious, brown curls bounced off of her shoulder. She was wearing a navy pencil skirt with a matching blazer. I tried to imagine what ******* were wrapping her perfect bottom. Tight waist, fat ***, *******, gorgeous face, hair and smile. Needless to say, Mayville took my breath away. Our first meeting was with Mariela only, Mayville did not attend. I was a bit saddened to hear she wouldn’t be joining, but i understood. I am a good man, a hard worker, a loyal husband… well, I was, completely, before i saw her, before i knew i had to have her, before i would stop at nothing to get her.

I think Mayville is my true soulmate. That is what my heart is telling me, right now…


Chapter 3: Mayville

A chip, Wednesday afternoon in February. For some reason, winter in California starts late. I am digging away at work for my deals when our office door opens. Usually i wouldn’t spare a second glance, but I realize right away who it is.

Phillip Riley stands, waiting for a greeting by our door. I stand up and straighten my outfit. I wear the same pencil skirt matching blazer combo, but today’s color is black. I walk up to him and chirp a quiet “Hello, Mr. Riley.” He smiles and says “why hello Miss Houston”. My knees want to buckle at his voice. It is like caramel dripping down a sundae on a hot day. His pressed, white shirt with a bright blue tie to compliment his perfectly chiseled jawline with just the right amount of stubble. He is about 6’5”, and has grey pants and very shiny dress shoes to compliment his white shirt and jawline. His hair is ***** blonde, but starting to grey. There is just something about this ******* man.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Riley?” I say, putting more confidence in my voice. “Please, call me Phillip”, he says warmly. He then explains to me he is meeting my agent Mariela, they have an inspection today, an appointment to ensure the property is in good condition, and his wife couldn’t make it due to being stuck at work. I get a little excited when he mentions Amber is not here. “Wait right here”, I say cheerily. “I will get Mariela for you right away.” I rush down the hall to let Mariela know that Phillip is here. She gets up and walks toward her door. Right before she walks out of it, she looks me dead in the eye and says “I see the way you look at him. Just be careful. Marriages are nothing to get involved in.” She gives my shoulder a squeeze and walks out. I love Mariela. She has always been like a mother figure to me. But something about the way she says that makes me shudder. I follow behind her quickly, heading back to my cubicle but hopelessly wanting to see Phillip one more time.

I watch them walk out the door. Phillip thanks me again, flashes me a smile, and walks out the door.

I can’t be imagining this electricity I feel between us. But Mariela is right, marriages are nothing to get involved in…

Chapter 4: Phillip

Another appointment that does not include Mayville. I am starting to get irritated. But I understand, she has to stay in her office and tend to other clients, like me. Each one’s needs different than the last. But I am not sure any of them have the needs i have…

I need her. I need to feel her on me, pressed against me, i need to feel what it is like to be inside of her, to release myself inside of her. God, what is wrong with me? I am married to Amber! We were talking about kids the other day! What is this feeling that has come over me recently? I cannot be feeling this way about another woman when we are searching for a house together. Am i completely insane? I need to nip these feelings in the bud before anything can get out of control. They are completely out of nowhere anyway. So I can make them go away out of nowhere too.

Mariela and I finish up the inspection, and she takes me back to her office since i left my car there. I notice there are lights still on in the building, and there is a silver honda civic still in the parking lot. I do not know, but i am hoping this is Mayville's car. I just want to see her one more time, her perfect body, in that tight matching professional outfit. Her pencil skirts drive me absolutely insane. ****, my train of thought got too crazy again. I. Am. A. Married. Man.

Mariella says goodnight to me. I say goodnight back and start to get in my car, and that is when I start to see her thick curls, flowing in the wind. I know I shouldn’t, but ****, I get back out of my car and walk towards her, while she is walking to her car.

“Hi Mr. Riley, er, I mean Phillip.” God, she is so ******* cute in addition to being so ******* ****.
“Hi, Mayville.” I say back. “You can call me May..” she says shyly. Why is she so cute?
“Okay, May. So what are your plans for this evening?” Innocent, but poking. “I was just going to head home… maybe have a glass of whiskey and binge some shows..” she says. “How about coming with me to the bar down the street?” I say, a bit more excited than I meant to.
I can see in her eyes she is unsure, but she nods silently. I motion for her to get in my car, and we ride together in silence to the bar about 5 minutes from her office. We get out of my car and I notice both of us fixing our attire. Curious, how both of us care how we look to one another tonight. I motion for her to walk in front of me as we walk to the front door of the bar. I open the door for her and tell the waitress we would like a table for 2. As we wiggle into our booth, our hands touch and it is hotter than a burning star. I know we both feel this, we have to. It is only a matter of time before I get my confirmation.

Chapter 5: Mayville

Oh my god. I cannot believe i am at a bar with a client. A client who I am assisting him and his wife in buying a home, mind you. He asks me what I would like. I shyly say “an old fashioned.” He grins from ear to ear and tells me that is his drink of choice as well. Am I imagining all of this? I already feel dizzy and we haven’t even gotten our drinks yet. The golden liquid with a slice of an orange peel arrives in front of us. We do a gentle cheers and I **** down half of my drink. Not only am I nervous but this week has been particularly tough and an old fashioned sounded like the best thing on earth at the moment. He says “eager, are we?” with that buttery voice that could melt a thousand candles at the same time. I smile nervously and just say “sorry, stressful week.” He knocks back half of his drink as well and just smiles at me. As if this man could get any sexier, *******. I smile and take another sip of my drink. I can’t help myself, I let myself melt in front of this man. I know he is married and nothing can happen between us, but something about him makes me feel safe enough to let my guard down. A warm home, in a winter storm,

We both have 3 drinks each. Cheeks burning red, I start to regret my decision a bit. I should not be out with a married man on a weekday. Truly, I can’t help myself at this point. We are both giggling about things each other has said. I smile, he smiles back. My hazel eyes glimmer with interest, hope, lust.

He pays the bill and we start walking out of the bar. I stumble once and he catches me. Even his touch is as soft as an angel. He leads me into his car, but instead of helping me into the front, he helps me into the back. I slowly ask “what are you doing?” He just shushes me and gets in the back too, on the opposite side of me. Once we are both inside of his car, he clicks the lock button, and puts up his front window shade.

I start to panic. What is happening? I cannot be doing this with a married man. What am I doing? What is he doing? What is going on?

As if he senses my panic, he grabs my face gently with both of his hands. He asks me gently to look at him, and i have no other choice, so I do. “It’s okay, I want this”, is all he says, before I see him lean forward to me and lets his lips touch mine. I feel his tongue part my lips and my eyes roll to the back of my head. He tastes like heaven and I can’t believe this is happening. Suddenly I am more confident than I have ever been. I am pulling up my skirt and I am unbuckling his belt and undoing the button on his pants at the same time. I feel the warm bulge in his boxers and I moan. I rub up against him once, showing him how much I want this too. He removes himself from his boxers and drags himself across my ****. I let out a wimper and he plunges his **** into my ***** full force. I let out a sharp gasp and he cups my mouth. I can’t believe this is happening. He feels so good, I could cry. I start to grind my hips down onto him. I see him release his arms and throw his head back, letting me know my movements are providing him what he wants. He places his hands on my hips as he thrusts into me as well. Each ****** and pull of his hands is harder than the last. I look into his glossy eyes and exhale deeply. He grabs my face, says “I’m..” and before he is finished, his tongue is back down my throat and I feel his hot liquid pumping inside of me. I bite his lip as I feel each pump inside of me. He grabs and ***** my ******* as we both finish climaxing together. His car windows are steamy, and we are both breathing hard. He looks up at me as I am still straddling him, and kisses me hard. He looks deep inside my eyes and says “now that i have had you, I won’t be able to stop.”

He drops me off at my car, and drives away. Leaving me shivering a bit in the night cold. But I don’t care. What I do care about is I just had crazy, beautiful *** with a man who i believe is my soulmate. I know he is married, but he is not married to the right woman…

I am a refugee from the City upon a Hill.

My homeland once a resounding light to the nations; has become a convulsing black hole, threatening to devour any semblance of civility.

My City, once a radiant promontory of enlightenment, its illumination of liberty’s searing torch revered, it’s practical striving for democratic wisdom shaping the long arc of the moral universe emulated by people of good will across the globe; now lies in state as a mordant corpse, serenaded by a funereal chorus of laughing griffins, a dead patriarch surrounded by the ruins of a once opulent now sacked city, a bygone home to the scattered disassemblage of a once noble people.

I recoil from the rancor of extreme partisanship, the gerrymandered apportionment of citizenship rights, the buoyant vindictiveness celebrated by small minded ignorance.

The blind allegiance to jingoistic nationalism, the adulation of Blueline authoritarianism, the fealty to imperial militarism and the dangerous trajectory of it’s awful consequence yet to come, enthralls me with dread.

Compelled patriotism enforced by threats of faux patriots, amoral ammosexuals, their small hands stroking quick triggers of long guns, genuflecting in mastabutory glee to the preeminence of 2nd Amendment atrocities, angling crosshairs of resentments to firmly fix a promise of ghoulish body counts, a rationalized apocalypse a captive people must suffer to underwrite profiteering gunrunners who blindly defile the constitutional tenets of life, liberty and happiness, the blood splattered keystones of our true exceptionalism.

Xenophobia and racialism, are stoked and celebrated by the City’s chief executive, his impish smile mouths Blood and Soil sloganeering, he solemnly salutes the Confederate flag while cheering torchlight processions of enraged White Nationalists marching to the drum of the Grand Republic’s midnight dirge along the once hallowed trail of Jeffersonian Democracy and a sacred place of secular enlightenment and higher learning. His gleeful decrees tweet the destruction of families and his police agents mouth holy scriptures to justify the imprisonment of children.  These vandals rhapsodically paint images of phantasmagoric nightmares trampling and mocking democratic ideals, resurrecting long settled conflicts, terrible tests a once great City rose to extinguish, now swelling numbers of craven citizens ardently embrace Klansmen, insurrectionists and ****’s as righteous brethren.

The madness of chauvinism and racial supremacy has fully metastasized within the body politic, polluting the mind, infecting the bloodline with a virulent strain of a white blood cell disease coursing through the veins of republican citizenship.

A City stolen from the Native inhabitants, ethnically cleansed and its former inhabitants remanded to the prisons of reservations, a City constructed on the backs of chattel slaves, erected on the graves of exploited wage laborers, provisioned by the ruthless denigration of the earth’s bounty, law and order mandated by criminalizing the marginalized, repressing the civil liberties of outliers and subjecting women to a perpetual status as the second *** underclass; has failed to repent and steadfastly refuses to make reparations for its sinful past has made the City uninhabitable.

The embrace of tolerance and diversity is the balm, the curate that can salve the oozing sores crippling the City. Nativist prejudice is a long protracted path that City citizen’s find impossible to exit. The malevolence that consumes the mind and moves the soul of a desperately spiteful people, who take delight and find it necessary to dehumanize and imprison alien races and creeds to maintain vapid notions of superiority, profane the ideals of a republican calling. They ruefully ignore the beacon of light warning of the dangerous shoals that lay ahead. The ideals of the great democratic experiment on course to be dashed on the jagged rocks of ignorance, fear, and anger. The doomed City has set a course that endangers its embargoed citizens. Travelling in steerage, a captive body, believing they are on a course for the rebirth of the City’s greatness are emboldened and chained by the delusions of their self destructive steadfast resentments.

My home City has become unknown to me.  I have become a stranger in this strange land. What was once beloved has become insufferable. What was once treasured has become burdensome. The familiar has become fully alien. A terrible avenging apparition haunts and mocks people of good will. My heart is disheveled. My spirit bruised. My body literally aches from the wounds exacted from the deconstruction of my beloved metropolis.

I stand stranded at the border of incivility. Bewildered I peer through a protective wall of concertina wire, eyeing the imprisoned haughty souls of fully enfranchised citizens, bellowing self righteous psalms, singing interminable lamentations of terminal ignorance.

Condemned by their belief in the salvation of violence and recrimination, secure in their faith that their moat of self righteousness shelters them from the gulags of perdition they eagerly proclaim for others, feeling recused from the bane of sinfulness by meager tithes, tumidity and scriptural specificity and the sweet delusional conviction they are the chosen tribe of God’s favor; their aspirations viscerally dashed in blizzards of metaphysical illusion strewn like meaningless confetti onto a passing parade of barbarians who have taken the City as its grandest prize.

Sadly I must withdraw from my beloved City. I retreat to a refuge where the barbarians dare not enter. Their ignorance and stasis weds them to a place far from my sanctuary of choice. May my sanctuary restoreth my soul!

I find refuge in the temples of jazz. I sing arias of lucent improvisation. The freedom of unbridled expression reinvigorates the mind, alighting the emanation of our better angels. The music calibrates my soul with the syncopated beat of an irrepressible life force, the humanity of my welling heart swells on the sonorous oxygen of a lyrical free spirit.

I take refuge in our vanishing mountain wilderness. The natural world offers a solace of solitude, a unrequited impression of scale and a transcendent communion immune from the trampling cacophony of gleeful vandals running rampant through the streets of the City. In winter the summits are capped in crowns of viginal snow, spring awakens a dormant flora, autumn leaves shout the chorus of a seasons glory and summer flowers bloom in multitudes of brilliant colors marking a startling contrast to the fifty shades of gray tattooed onto the City’s restive souls by the purveyors of power.

I find respite on the friendly banks of rivers and breeze swept ocean shores. The perfume wafting along a rivers streaming eddies or a briney snort gulped from the foam of a cresting wave invigorates the lungs, strengthens the heart and clears the mind. The flow of living water heals lifes wounded spirit. It quenches a thirst for justice and nourishes the hope of freedom for all incarcerated souls. The ceaseless roll of the ocean waves prove the enduring power and inevitability of liberty.

I find a good refuge in books. Here I discover a fleeting glimpse of our forgotten love of knowledge and pursuit of truth and rational thought. Enlightenment is the plot of every storyline.

I take refuge in art. I escape into the multiple dimensions of aesthetic beauty trouncing the twittering banality of fad, pornographic affectations and consumer fethishism. Glimpsing beauty while beauty is there to behold and the diligent practice of its creation is an answer to a higher calling.

I take refuge in my dog. Unconditional love and trusted friendship are values at peril in a transactional world; virtues nobily demonstrated and freely given by our canine and feline friends.

I take refuge in late night comedy. Working the midnight shift, whistling past the graveyard with a hearty laugh helps to while away the desperate hours. The rancid fruits of our labor leave a bitter taste in our mouths, humor is the bread of life that clears the palate and makes the terrible sufferable.

My lasting sanctuary is the stronghold of faith, forbearance and tolerance. I trust the long arc of justice will bend toward the righteous and offer a pathway of redemption for all desecrated souls.

I take refuge in the Blues. Let my lamentations turn to songs of joy and deliverance.

I take refuge in prayer. May my places of exile restore and heal my denigration. May God deliver us to a good destination. May our generational wanderings in the desert of desolation end in the discovery of a good place of habitation.

In the solitude of prayer may I experience catharsis, may my petitions find an open ear, may I achieve clarification, may my pious supplication be genuine , my conviction firm, a direction found, a decision made, a call to action clear.  May I become a healer of the breach.

May Your grace be sufficient for me.

I declare my exile over. I will return to my City. I will attempt to rekindle the extinguished flame of liberty to dispel the darkness enveloping my City.

Selah.

Mark Almond: The City

Puyallup
6/30/18
jbm

Tapping, as the teacher goes over lessons. Such a bore, its weds 2:59. Midterms its crazy, the year flew by so quick. Before you know its grauation. Im talking girls in bikinis, That beach life fine, right time of the year man. ******* cars beer pong, summer man. Gotta get 1,200 rentalcars. Calender so ex's, freshman, new 2 tha campus. I was lost too, funny? My frat brother is in the parking causing a ruckus. Some song, don't know the words to it. Few books in and android

December days
November nights
How i held on
October times
Harmful crimes
Committed gainst
This broken body
September saves
God bless
A peaceful rest
Storms rage
Caressing clouds
Tender tears fall
August leaves
Touch ground
Go away
Brown red mixture
Blood stains
Just to stay
July oh why
Pops round my head
Embrace left lost
Sparks flying
Newly weds
June bloomed
Loomed through town
May raised me up
Rain bled down
Storms rage
Pain fades
Deteriorate melt
Repeatedly stabbing
Every wound
Felt
April clown
Fooled with a kiss
Kissed a fool
Marched out the door
Remember me as i was
For i am no more
February valentine
Wished a heart
Was truly mine
Black roses
Maggots ate
January brought about new fate
Began a year
With much gloom
Knew a spell cast
Would end soon

Murray

Since its inception, Aarong has been determined to bring about effective changes in the lives of artisans and underprivileged rural women, by facilitating and advertising their handicraft. Today, it has become the foundation of independent cooperative groups and family-based artisans. Now, it is known as a contemporary life outlet, among people not only in Bangladesh, but all over the world.

This wedding season, you can adorn yourself with one of Aarong’s festive looks. On November 17, Aarong launched their latest product line – the Wedding Collection.

Aarong has introduced a series of looks and styles to try out this wedding season for brides, the bridal entourage and the wedding attendees. What’s more, they are promoting Jamdani, Muslin and Katan sarees as the choice of outfits to wear for the bride and her close ones.

The line is introducing bridal wear in some uncommon hues, moving away from the routine “red” to peach, pink, purple, blue, green and beige. These unconventional colours can also look grand on the big day, and this is the idea that the creators of Aarong are attempting to establish.

Jamdani saris will be incorporated with remarkable embroidered and printed blouses, helping ladies look regal on their special day. The wedding entourage also has a lot to look forward to. This special compilation includes Katan and Jamdani sarees, paired with embroidered blouses, ideal for any reception soiree. Katan sarees can be worn in bright or bold colours and contrasted with multi-layered pearl jewellery and complementing blouses. Furthermore, the collection also includes Jamdani saris in light shades such as light pink, peach and white, and these can be paired with frilled petticoats or dupattas.

Along with gold, the creators encourage the brides to try out silver jewellery with complementing stones, layered pearl neckpieces and hair ornaments. Hence, the looks are a mix of modern and traditional, and are not only advised for the bride, but also for the close relatives or wedding attendees.

This collection also comprises of saris, appropriate for the bridesmaids, the cousins, the sisters, and even the parents of the to-be-weds. Aarong has prepared similar ‘matching’ attires for the bride and the groom, that are perfect for particular occasions like Holud, Mehendi, Aiburo Bhaat, and so on. For the bridegroom, as well as his family and friends, there is also an exclusive range, that includes Sherwanis and Panjabis. Aarong also provides a variety of gift options such as ceramic dinner set, cushion and bed covers, as well as women’s accessories, such as bags and purses.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/white-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/backless-formal-dresses