mean·ing              
                               ˈmēniNG/noun: meaning; plural noun:
                                      meanings
1.           what is meant by a word, text, concept, or action.
"the meaning of the word “supermarket”
synonyms: definition, sense, explanation,
          denotation,
          connotation, interpretation, nuance
"the word has several different meanings"
implied or explicit significance.
"he gave me a look full of meaning"
        significance, sense, signification,
        import, gist, ******, drift, implication,
tenor, message, essence, substance, purport,                        intention
"the meaning of his remark"
expressiveness, significance, eloquence,
implications, insinuations
"his smile was full of meaning"
important or worthwhile quality; purpose.
"this can lead to new meaning                  in the life of older people"
value, validity, worth, consequence,
           account, use, usefulness, significance, point
"my life has no meaning"
adjective:          meaning
1.        intended to communicate something
that is not directly expressed.
"she gave Gabriel a meaning look"

late Middle English: verbal noun from mean[1].                 mēn/verb                    gerund or present participle: meaning
1.                                 intend to convey, indicate, or refer to
(a particular thing or notion); signify.
"I don't know what you mean"
synonyms: signify, convey, denote, designate,
indicate, connote, show, express, spell out;
stand for, represent, symbolize; imply, suggest,
intimate, hint at, insinuate, drive at, refer to,
                       allude to, point to; literary:
                                                     betoken
"flashing lights mean the road is blocked"
(of a word) have (something) as its signification
                        in the same language
                  or its equivalent in another language;
"its name means “painted rock” in Cherokee"
genuinely intend to convey or express       (something).
"when she said that before, she meant it"
             be of some specified importance to (someone),
especially as a source of benefit or object of affection.
"animals have always meant more to him than people"
2.                intend (something) to occur or be the case;
"they mean no harm"
                                         intend, aim, plan, design,
have in mind, contemplate, purpose,
        propose, set out, aspire, desire, want, wish, expect
"she didn't mean to break it"
be supposed or intended to do something.
"we were meant to go over yesterday"
design or destine for a particular purpose.
  "the jacket was meant for a much larger person"
synonyms: intend, design; destine, predestine
"he was hit by a bullet meant for a soldier"
have as a motive or excuse in explanation.
"what do you mean by                       leaving me out here in the cold?"
synonyms: matter, be important, be significant
"this means a lot to me"
3.                            have as a consequence or result;
"the proposals are likely to mean another
hundred closures"
synonyms: entail, involve, necessitate, lead to,
result in, give rise to, bring about, cause,
        engender, produce      "the closures will mean
                                            a rise in unemployment"
presage, portend, foretell, augur, promise,
foreshadow, herald, signal, bode;
literary:                 betoken
"a red sky in the morning usually means rain"
necessarily or usually entail or involve.
"coal stoves mean a lot of smoke"
Origin

Old English mænan ; related to Dutch meenen
and German meinen, from an Indo-European
root shared by mind.

overground ticket office closures -  30.09.18

welcome to draconian
just like poetry and criticism
jump barrier at the road caledonian
no staff on shop floor or camera crew doing voyeurism.
don't be fooled
cuts will travel benefit
vigilantes are getting up tooled
taking full advantage of deficit.
beggars and scammers are like cadbury
they are a good receiver
going to waterloo to direct to canonbury
poetry not going well with arriva.
51 stations are to be closed
not going to dent or groove
barnsbury is next to be exposed
for benefit to no paying customers it will improve.
RMT not wanting to slash
they no ticket officers play a crucial role
begging sadiq khan is **** cash
we need a human not a machine with no sole.
welcoming to the best ever city
machines are on and automatic
back to humans queen did sing with no pity
ahead of times proves so graphic.
will share my views
travelwatch get poetry online
i will be first to break the news
ticket office closures is transportation decline.

Kozarev.
One tickling of my breath.
One naughty fantasy.
One piece, of forbidden bliss.
One haziness I chose to feel.
The seventh drip, of my ****** blood.
The light on the very tip of my tongue.
The fire of my thoughts; my minds, and even my slightest, hesitation.
A charm so genuine, clear, and vibrant;
But never raises; nor becomes too petulant.
A crush I firstly detested,
but to which now; I am most heartily attached.
And all in all, the prince I once prayed for,
the man I ever so sincerely dreamed of.
Kozarev.
O, my Kozarev-
my very, my very own, Kozarev.
Had I not attended to yon duty that night-
There might have been no Kozarev at all;
Ah, that one night-that was indeed so blinding and tantalizing,
Yet full of auspicious words, and weary tasks;
And I felt a lot of fantasies were whirling about me-
Speeding about like they had never been before;
Making my auras more visible, and my shy lips form and seen more,
Ah, but all was, and still is-because of thee, Kozarev.

Ah, Kozarev, do you know not-how I often picture thee;
Thee with fits of exuberant temper; or joys so enigmatic, and tender.
Sometimes you startle me, or become simply too childish but lovely;
And offer a love I have never been used to, or shall be used to-or either.
I am charmed by your presence;
For 'tis much more valuable than any slice of gem;
Nor a number of countless diamonds, or divine salutations.
A love so vehement, a love too virulent.
A love not so tough, nor one too dramatic;
A love that fears betrayal and torment,
A love too expected, but never grow, nor be chaotic.
Ah, and sadly perhaps you are the last love-but the one
that shall never grow, regardless of how handsome you are;
Still, you are too far, and far away, from my felicity;
You are like an evil hero urging to be my temptation;
You adore my morning and flirt with my afternoon-
With some shy shades, that sadly shall disappear-or fade away, too soon.
Ah, Kozarev, you are real, but sometimes unreal as a painting;
Your heart knows not sorrow; nor desperate cries-that are all honest,
For your heart is not yours now, but someone else's.
Ah, how a woman-a similar being to me, can be so fortunate-
I know not how, for she is in possession if thee, and thy very fate;
She who shall live by thee and by thee only, grow old,
She whose hands are to be so lucky in thy marriage.
Sometimes I understand not, how I can be so bold,
And wordless-upon your very mentioning of her name,
For as I say nothing, my warm blood still gets cold,
For my heart is torn, and turned into raw pieces of shame.
Ah, Kozarev, but still-you know never any of this suffering;
Over a joy that I cannot reach, over the half of my heart, that you make missing.

Ah, Kozarev, perhaps you shall never read any of my poetry,
nor know anything else about me;
For your heart is altogether too lively and swift;
With secrets I cannot see; and stubborn closures I cannot lift.
But do you know that sometimes I dream of thee-
and our charming melancholy Sofia?
Ah, those dreams-dreams that are so purely thick, but solid-and sweet?
Dreams that I cannot forget-or simply cannot forgive.
For you are there-always, even only as a shadow in my dreams;
Just like you are a shadow in my reality-ah, you whom I greatly miss,
But sadly can perhaps never become my real lover-oh, my true gentle lover!
For you only care about everything of her-and not mine;
But you know not-every single mention of her name is a curse to me,
Even though you say everything so smoothly-and gently,
Still I hate knowing that she is your destiny,
One that celebrate the sanguinity of your lips,
One that your adorable being shall desire to keep.
Ah, and not-and not me, and perhaps never be me,
I-who love you with all the discourses, and powers-of my might,
I-who write and dream and think about you all day and night;
I-whose heart grows, and thrives in your very irresistible delight,
I-who in your absence shall scream inside, and be tainted and blurred, by fright;
Ah, Kozarev, you know my being-but indeed! Indeed you know not-everything;
You know my poetry-but one you never read; nor one you ever sing;
You know not what I endure, you know not you are in truth, my heart's darling.

Ah, Kozarev, thinking of her fills my poetic blood with anger;
I am like a dying bird-tearing through the air with mad wings;
From the pain of death-until I am killed in the hands of my hunter-
And you know not, my hunter is her;
She, whom your idyll is depended on,
She, who has stolen thy heart-and left me alone,
She, who is my tragedy, and on top of all-my blood-red misery,
She, who has caused all this gloom, and tragic poetry.
Ah, if only couldst fate tear you apart and blow her away-
And should you turn to me, I shall give you only the brightest of days.
I shall cuddle you, and bewitch you-with open arms;
I shall praise you, and make you mad-with the comeliness of my charms.
I shall love you-and turn to you with my whole paradise;
Where the sun is shining and fills our very souls with bliss;
I shall make you feel none else but wonder and victory;
I shall make you feel but tenderness, and the finest linings-of destiny.

And Kozarev-if possible, I wouldst be glad to be your sun itself;
I wouldst be blessed as one full of courage; and one thoughtful, and brave.
And then, just beautifully as I shall paint this stunning love in your heart-
I shall duly, write on thee all more deeply, and more eagerly;
I shall paint thee as one so insanely handsome as the rainbow-
I shall play your melody on my dearest flute;
And turn alight, everything that was forgotten-everything t'was mute.
I shall be your star, and be your sole, finest future,
I shall be your grace, and for your every wound-the most awaited cure.
And at last-I shall open my very door to you, and make everything delightful; make everything but sure.
Ah, Kozarev, do you know not-how meaningful you actually are to me,
More than I can ever comprehend; nor I can ever desireth myself, to be.

Oh, Kozarev, for you are even more dangerous than this sullen peeping fog,
For you own my heart the most; and be the one it has always sought!
Ah, Kozarev, show me then-how graceful paths of delight can be;
As well how holy and enduring lightness of heart is, and how sacred-suffering may be.

Ah, Kozarev, I love you; for you shall always be my little, little twinkling star,
And thus my poetry is dedicated to you-you whom now stay still afar-
But to my dear heart is a one closest, and the soul I desireth most;
And from whose charms I can no more escape; nor more can I hide.
Ah, Kozarev, just this time-and perhaps t'is time only,
Read now one part of my poetry; and tell me a line-of one pretty loving story;
And just once only-look at me more and give me that lovely thrill;
Listen to me t'is very time, so that you'd finally understand-what I feel.

I.
With strappy, **** cutouts at the back, this is tempting at every angle.
∙ Allover lace trim
∙ Strappy back cutouts
∙ Front and back bows
∙ Low rise
∙ Minimal back coverage
∙ Imported polyester/spandex

II.
The **** lift of a push-up meets the coverage you want in a supersoft bra you’ll love to wear. With lighter Memory Fit for extra support as it conforms to your curves and a smoothing U-shaped back.

Lift & Lining
∙ Extreme lift
∙ Full coverage underwire cups

Straps & Hooks
∙ Adjustable straps can convert to crossback and snap into place for a secure hold
∙ Back closure
∙ Double row of hook and eye closures; Sizes 36DD & 38D-38DD have triple row of 

closures
 

for a secure, comfortable fit
∙ 4 settings to ensure a perfect fit

Details & Fabric
∙ U-shaped ballet back prevents band from riding up and offers more coverage
∙ Supersoft, double-lined sides for the smoothest shape
∙ Keyhole and bow at center front
∙ Imported nylon/spandex

BCBG Max Azria, with its 570 brick-and-mortar boutiques, is the latest American retail firm to fall prey to digital competition.

On Thursday, Bloomberg reported that the fashion label, one of three under the BCBG Max Azria Group umbrella, which also includes Herve Leger and BCBGeneration, is closing several stores and shifting its focus to e-commerce, wholesaling through other retailers and licensing.

Said Seth Lubove, a spokesman for BCBG at Sitrick & Co., "Like so many other great brands, BCBG has been negatively impacted by the growth in online sales and shifts in customer shopping patterns and, as a result, has too large a physical retail footprint."

The company founded by Max Azria in 1989 (which stands for the French phrase "bon chic, bon genre") peaked in the mid-2000s, finding favor on the red carpets with tween darlings Lauren Conrad, Camilla Belle and Miley Cyrus, the latter of whom collaborated with Azria on a short-lived Walmart collection in 2009.

One of the most powerful figures to emerge from the L.A. fashion scene in the last 25 years, Azria, an immigrant from Tunisia, was early to the idea of democratizing fashion, selling gowns in the $500 range and showing them on the runway in New York to lend a high-fashion patina. He built an international empire that once boasted $1 billion in retail sales.

He is married to Lubov Azria, chief creative officer of the BCBG Max Azria Group. The West Coast couple made headlines in 2015 for selling their Beverly Hills estate for $85 million.

BCBG Max Azria has struggled over the past few years, hampered by overly aggressive brand extensions and retail expansion plans, and increased competition from fast fashion giants Zara and H&M.; Last year, 123 employees were laid off from its Vernon, Calif.-based offices. The company has hired Alix Partners LP to restructure its debt load, although, according toBloomberg's sources, the company isn't in risk of bankruptcy.

Just last week, fellow L.A.-based retailer American Apparel announced the closure of all 110 of its retail stores. Other mall fixtures, including Macy's and Sears, also announced store closures scheduled for early 2017, and all of The Limited stores closed this month.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses

my feet are planted on these wooden planks,
the very separation of the soil beds and the stream. your hand’s quick to envelope mine in its warmth. dandelions dance with the cacophony of the breeze. the lighthouse stands tall a few distances from where we stood.
the sky gets littered by colors, sons and daughters of the sun bidding their farewell
everything within the expanse of the lakeshore showered in their translucence-
and quite frankly darling, we’re left with no exception.
you were staring off the distance
and in that moment you were almost miles away-but i didn’t mind,
for i was too mesmerized by the calmness
you were pulled under, the amber gold canvas bleeding in with the havoc it was pierced with.
i swear it was there where we’ve been in our safest state.
maybe that was our arrival to the once unknown destination we were targeting to be in all our plans to run away, fake our deaths.
we were a world away back there
and despite the sun sinking,
it breached the start of a hundred different voyages.
your presence was the closest i’ve felt to home.

in the expanse of a moment we were something more-something more than our sadness and all that we’ve stored in folds within the silhouettes.
and to a random onlooker,
we were just two kids content on being stupid and naive out on a chase for an i don’t know why the **** i’ve been put in this sick sad world but maybe we can stick together and make it ‘til we’re grey sort of happy ending.
to anyone else we weren’t anything but misfits, a pair lacking sense, knowing no better, junkies screaming out pent up emotions to rock songs on rooftops
or taking hairpin turns on 4am roadtrips that fueled the adrenaline.
thrill seekers, jaded
to anyone else, we were nothing more than a reckless pair almost making their way to the big screen or a typewritten poem the paper creasing on the edges.

but there we were made out of the sunset way past sets of bones and fractures by the sky,
the sunset looked like us.
now it’s months later, and we’ve let everything fade,
scratched out all that we’ve casted on the future, of long forgotten lullabies, null whispers- you’ve erased all our texts and chats,
in turn i have thrown out the flowers you picked and your book recommendations, the diy polaroids piled up in a box.
i stopped listening to all the songs you’ve sent. the curtains in my bedroom no longer match the shade of your hazel brown eyes.
the places i once brought you to are now ghost towns you’d get glimpses of in postcards 50 years from now-
at least that’s how they’re portrayed in my mind. but not without taking a drive, letting my footsteps baptize the ground they trample on with a feverish kiss,
one more time, one last time
clearly you’ve chosen to vanish, no traces left for a breadcrumb trail after that night at the diner where we spilled our closures
delivered with so much declaration,
leftover longing left caged in glassy eyes the whole time.
you stormed away with the last pieces of vulnerability, everything done with one final cruel exchange, just like that,
all my drunk texts a non-stop desperation reeking of “i love you’s” left to no reply;
that should signify that we’ve gone unto depths just to burn all our remnants
-maybe you more than i did.

here we are, free of the artifacts pointing back to each other,
from everywhere we’ve ever been
only to be proven of its blatant wrongness;
for we’ve forgotten about the sunsets but it sure as hell wouldn’t allow itself to be put to rest,
and it does the same thing with everything once marked by it.
you’re no longer here and our shadows have long unlearned the dwelling
once found on each other’s spines.
and maybe this you that never vacated my head even now, the one i couldn’t just bring to hate even after you’re no longer the you breathing softly beside the girl with twilight underneath her eyes.
but darling, the afterglows would pursue each time the sun sets;
each time, it unearths the glass shards from our fights and the longing and the butterflies crumbling onto chaos, our aftermath.
i no longer have an idea if you still marvel at the quiet like you once did,
as i stood there in the shades reflected by the currents under rushing with their beating.
“now we’re worlds away but sunsets still look a lot like us.”

Love is a boulevard,
Sometimes we're in different lanes.
If all's going well, then I guess it's the same.
But what of the self-imposed roadblocks,
Or closures for repairs?
Things never gotten round to, and now
Some roads lead nowhere

I know well never be together
But you still bring me bad weather.
Infectious my beating heart breaks.

Self inflicted pain, love is an endless game. I can’t stop playing with you.
Years pass me by my tears refuse to let me cry. Strong enough to leave you now.

My heart stayed behind I know you wouldn’t mind. It’s better If I didn’t know.
How much you never loved me tho.
I think I might die inside an wonder why I’ve lead a lie.

(of Angkor Wat)



Two years after, i still think of that
forest, where an old temple stands...
most structures are carved with intricate
designs and images...architecture was
influenced by their Khmer culture...

posts, frames and doors are stilled,
statues are tight-lipped, like frozen
witnesses...drowning in the voices
and noises of flocks of tourists,
reminding me of the noise and confusion
of my daily existence....in my own world..

i went up and down many stairs, went through
doors within doors, i lost count, while catching  
my breath, wondered why there were just door
frames............silent walls, old posts, and old
trees gave a cold feel of a distant past......yet,
in my mind, an aura of magic and mystery
hovered upon the entire temple...as if ghosts
of wisdom, and lots of stories lay dormant,
imprisoned......within the structures...

two summers and monsoon seasons passed,
my thoughts on Angkor Wat, haunt me still,
and bring back my thoughts on those doors;

some doors on our paths are closed shut,
some are ajar...some open easily, but are
ignored, or feared...some, close too soon,
before we make our first step to enter...
some stay open, yet, we become complacent,
some, have no closures or finality...leaves
one in limbo....
how will we know if it's the last one for us?
how many doors more...for you? for me?
does death give an end to life's entrances?
........or, is it just a beginning?


Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
January 2017

You are used to being overloaded with work
That's what happens when you work in a startup
Especially a startup dealing in Recruitment
That too, not run-of-the-mill Recruitment
You specialise in niche roles
Thus, you need to invest a lot of time and effort
In order to pull off closures
Yes, a recruiter's life is never going to be easy
But Recruitment pales in comparison to Research
When you are working on a major research project
You are essentially taking part in an almost never-ending race
Against that elusive devil, Time
A race you can ill afford to lose
And the race track is far from straight
In fact, it is full of twists and turns
Some of them are even more dangerous
Than those hairpin bends you often encounter
While driving up the mountains
There are also numerous obstacles along the way
And to cap it all
There are no prizes for winning the race
On the other hand, if you lose
There will be a stiff penalty
In the form of losing the client, for ever
And what's worse
Is the fact that your credibility will take a massive beating
From which it will be quite difficult to recover
Life will never be the same again
So, you have to win, no matter what
Of course, you are used to working hard
Whether it be Recruitment or Research
So, you put your best foot forward
And work out of your skins
Putting off sleep as much as possible
Even when your body is protesting vociferously
Against this blatant abuse
To add insult to the injury
Your laptop shows you the *******
And your phone literally dies
Sending you into a brainfade
That would have put even Australian cricketer Steve Smith to shame
Luckily, your father's presence of mind saves the day
But your troubles are not over yet
The harder you work
The more confusing the project gets
It's like being trapped in a maze
Except that it's a thousand times worse
Because the maze is controlled from outside
As if it were a puppet
With your boss pulling the strings
Thus, the harder you try to find a way out
The more you get trapped inside
With every passing hour
Hope slowly drains out of you
Until you are forced to admit
That all you can do, is pray
And keep praying for all eternity
Hoping against hope
That Harry Potter and his friends will save the day

Quiet the noises
Shuffling in phrases
Numbing consensus

It's supposed to flow so freely
Grace is forsaken
Animated mutely

I have that smile
Someone has always seen me before
Looking worthless guile

Or maybe secret past pleasures
Just this moment in time
Not knowing forcing closures

It's better to be invisible
Being born infinite love
Always amenable

After all is said and done
The last chapter read
Laughter is the only fun