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Julian Aug 2015
The oceans’ froth betrothed to lunatic scoff
The sublunary elegance of a subdued earthen cough
Infectious pulchritude conjures snow-globe turpitude
Defiant humility professes to know the rudeness of the crude
Distilled casually in a leery trance
Terpsichorean choreography of a hallowed prance
Callow scowls affix the hebetude of anger to the sauciness of banter
Gallant cavalries court the cult of she and enamor and enchant her
Foretold calamities proceed like clockwork from God’s destructive jaundice
Death deployed as a sententious homily of wraiths that taunt us
At every turn fatidic inspirations work to cement a known outcome
Averted gaze away from rampant gays and fire-and-brimstone bunkum
We cherish a world where the stodgy and outmoded monopolize choice considerations
Where hedonism abreast of asceticism are internecine intimidations
Suffer like Christ and buffer like tenacious poverty sustained by rice
Dare to glower with menacing insistence at the known outcome of errant dice
Soothsayers soothe prayers but cataclysm still dares
To pulverize innocent insouciance and become the cynosure of trepidation and stares
Heaven blares a deafening “obey” while hell stays silent to lure the prey
Hobnob with hobgoblins and expect opprobrium to park and stay
Gentility and class-divisions orchestrate a frozen system of tenacious prisons
Stalking the lifeblood of mainlined ecstasies and surgical incisions
Minority Report within the grasp of the majority uproar
Dalliance with a self-fulfilling time means there will always be a bout between Bush and Gore
Lecherous eyes prize a hedged bush and irascible lies seek copious gore
But because the bush ensconces the ****** in bed with China the twin towers imploded for common core
Mondegreens serenade a mistaken flirtation with a time traversed and mastered
Swelling tides hearken the moon to make a hypothetical bonanza out of disaster
Enumerated infinity within esoteric grasp and pandered sequester
Bedazzled of foreknowledge  it charters the uncharted exploitation faster and faster
Burgeoning funds entertain a mind cloistered by infamy and oppressed by indecency
Burbling puns ecstatic about the perpetuity of guns hector the province of a token leniency
Squander the day and indulge the night by knowing exactly the demise of every shooting star
Knowing the origin and legacy of every single scar
Knowing the path creates the path known
Every single stock you know you should with alacrity own
Prosperous kinship and insubordinate brinksmanship win the prejudiced award
Fencing with lethal intent the specter of death devolves into irenic accord
Envy the impregnable corporate machine and its unassailable pipe dream
Hunt the Wolfs of Wall Street until panic evolves into cacophony of screams
Democratization of prophecy will cue the most titanic robbery
Shills looking for upstart thrills will pretend an unwarranted snobbery
Paradox is impossible because every moment elapsed is indelible and irrevocable
Every frisson of love is fertile and impregnable
So rejoice that the masters of the clock invest in select stocks
And hope that parcels of secrecy tumble from the 1919 White Sox
Emerald Street knows When the Music ‘s Over
Brandished crumbs adorned with sportive panache clothed in a lucky clover
Deprived of snide tithes and the confessions of millions protest a catholic cabal of universalism draped in quaint overalls
Mock the hegemony of the sailing class and their brisk and copious squalls
Opulent scions vouch for the failsafe prerogatives of Zion
Sleeping awake we indulge the oneiromancies of Orion
Cinematic wonders regale glorified eavesdropped blunders
Until the secrecy of the machine is so conspicuously in sight it tears the elected pantheon asunder
A master race of an intelligent nepotism in denial of its own disgrace
Exploits the argosy of secrets of the flying-disked race
But one day a challenger like a rooster will orient the demotic vogue towards the treasure trove
And pirates will prosper in burgeoning droves
Myths foisted will debunk themselves as eternity preens its chosen wealth
Even the most furtive endeavors will have to equip even more stealth
That day will prompt an arms race and a worms race
To burrow beneath the chasms of malcontent and adopt and insular embrace
They billow now with toxicity and malignancy
Even death will have alternative contingencies
The resplendent future will capture the common heart
For the accumulated wisdom of words will make us infinitely more smart
judy smith Feb 2017
In this age of global uncertainty, clothes have become a kind of panacea for a growing number of consumers. Designers are responding to the political upheavals of the past year by injecting some much-needed humour into women’s wardrobes. Browns CEO Holli Rogers is already predicting that spring’s sartorial hit will be Rosie Assoulin’s smiley-face T-shirt. This cheery number, which reads "Thank you! Have a Nice Day!’" neatly sums up the jubilant mood of the coming season.

The logic goes that turning up the dial on the fun, the colourful and the crazy is the sartorial equivalent of Michelle Obama’s "when they go low, we go high" mantra. We may not be able to control the chaos of world events, but we still rule our own style.

It’s no coincidence that a cartoonish aesthetic, of the sort you’d find if you rifled through an eccentric child’s dressing-up box, was in plentiful supply on the spring/summer 2017 runways. Alessandro Michele’s army of Gucci geeks displayed growing swagger in garish get-ups that ran from fuzzy crayon-coloured furs featuring zebras to tiered, tinsel-y coats that rivalled Grandma’s Christmas tree.

It was a similar story at Dolce & Gabbana, where sumptuous eveningwear was loaded with pasta and pizza motifs, and drums became bags, while Marc Jacobs tore a page from a psychedelic colouring book, covering clothes with the childlike scrawl of the London illustrator Julie Verhoeven. Even ardent minimalists would have to admit that these playful looks have potent pick-me-up power.

For Anya Hindmarch – whose empire is built on feel-good fashion – all this frivolity is nothing new. "An ironic, lighter and more irreverent approach has always been my thing. People love beautiful objects and increasingly, they want to show their character – that’s the point of fashion," she says. "Customers today are more confident with their style. There aren’t so many rules. It’s about putting a sticker on a beautiful handbag and not being too precious about it."

What’s surprising is who is consuming this cartoonish style. Though there’s no real rhyme or reason, says Hindmarch, often it’s older clients who are investing in the maddest pieces – like her cuddly, googly-eyed Ghost backpack that has also been spotted on Gigi Hadid and Kendall Jenner.

The same is true of the customer for the Lebanese designer Mira Mikati’s emoji-embellished styles. Though her fans run from twenty to fiftysomethings, at a recent London pop-up one of Mikati’s most ardent buyers was an 87-year-old. "She tells me that whenever she wears my clothes people stop her on the street. They smile. They start conversations. She literally makes friends through what she wears."

Mikati began her career as a buyer, co-founding the upscale Beirut boutique Plum, before launching her own line some four seasons ago – largely out of frustration at the sameness of the mainstream collections. "I wanted to create something fun and colourful but easy to wear – that you can add to jeans and a white T-shirt, but that’s also a conversation point."

Her clothes, worn by Beyoncé and Rihanna, are certainly that: pink parrot-appliquéd trench coats, scribble-print hooded tops and dresses clad with a family of monsters who spell out her Peter Pan ethos in scrawled speech bubbles that read "Never Grow Up’" The antithesis of normcore, these designs take their cue from her children’s toy trunk and the Japanese pop art of Takashi Murakami – who returned the compliment by donning one of her patched bombers.

Mikati is clearly onto something. According to Roberta Benteler, who founded online fashion emporium Avenue 32 in 2011, it’s the cartoon aesthetic that’s really piquing women’s desire right now.

"Anything that looks like a child’s drawing or a toy sells incredibly well," she says. "Brands like Mira Mikati, Vivetta and Les Petits Joueurs inspire the impulse to buy because they’re so eye-catching. You have to have it now because there’s a sense you won’t find it anywhere else."

The exponential rise of street-style stars and the social-media machine that now propels the fashion industry also plays a part in the popularity of these playful looks.

"Designers are creating for the online world and customer," continues Benteler, who cites the Middle Eastern consumer as a big investor in these niche eccentric designs. "People find escapism in fashion and more than ever they need something to cheer them up. These are clothes that stand out on Instagram, and for designers that translates into sales."

In practical terms, in an effort to beat the warp speed of high-street copying, designers are differentiating themselves with increasingly intricate and artisanal styles that are harder to mimic. Just because these pieces have a childlike sensibility doesn’t mean they’re not beautifully crafted.

"My aim is create a handbag that you can keep as a design piece," explains the accessories designer Paula Cademartori. One of her most successful designs – the Petite Faye bag, which comes in a whole rainbow of configurations – takes more than 32 hours to create at her Italian studio. "Even if the styles are colourful and speak loudly, they’re still sophisticated," says Cademartori, whose brand was recently snapped up by the luxury goods group OTB. It can pay to be playful.

One man with a unique insight into the feel-good phenomenon is Marco de Vincenzo, who combines his longstanding role as leather goods head designer at Fendi with creating his own collection. "When we first created the Fendi monster accessories for bags we were simply playing around," he says of the charms that still loom large some three years on. "The most successful designs are created without pressure, through play."

His own-line debut bag features an animalistic paw. ‘It’s about creating something new and different for women to discover,’ he explains. "You buy something because you love it, not because you need it. Fashion is like a game – it has to excite."

When it comes to distilling this childlike abandon into your wardrobe, take cues from super style blogger Leandra Medine, who balances madcap pieces, such as her first collection of colourful footwear under her MR By Man Repeller label, with plainer, simpler ones. "It’s all about wearing your clothes with joy, and having fun, but not looking ridiculous," says Cademartori. "You don’t want to look like an actual cartoon."

It’s advice that chimes with that of Anya Hindmarch. "I love the idea of wearing a super-simple Comme des Garçons jacket and a white shirt with a really fun bag to mess it all up a bit." It’s a failsafe formula for dressing your way to happiness.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Brie Ellisa May 2014
A dream you told me of:
Defusing a time-bomb embedded in the womb of your dead mother.
I don’t know if you were smart enough to flip the failsafe
Or if you indiscriminately yanked wires out, like your dangerous thoughts.

A dream I told you of:
at the midpoint of their parents’ anniversaries, by the ruins of every immortalized
kingdom, she is wearing her mother’s dress and he is too.
“father wanted to castrate or **** me,” he said, conversationally.
they have so much in common. they live the tragedy of armchair **** fantasies,
tend to ****** their own genitals when lost in thoughts of the obstruction of
their desires. (which, really, is pointless
because they don’t desire anything besides fondling their own genitals.)

Blinded Oedipus does not notice
Electra’s concealed ******* dagger. A thousand years between them, yet they’re still children conceived of
Mitigated **** and blood sacrifice for the sake of sailing, and
Defined by deficit from the beginning; her crippled mind sang
to his hollowed eyes. Kinslayers becoming kin,
Entranced by the illusions of the other but really
Loving only the unmistakable reflections of their own sins.
Jonny Angel Aug 2014
Nothing these days is truly failsafe.
You buy some Ultrathins and the babies might win,
even the Trojan horse had issues for the boys of Troy.
Fancy ribbed models can end up in shreds
& I've seen the reservoir tips burst.
But if you're still ***** & thirst for safe ***,
you should try different combinations
of tubed-latex along with 'the pill'
dispensed from
the fancy circular monthly-packages.
That's your best bet,
your best chance of survival.
If anything, don't be a dinosaur
thinking your living Jurassic,
this is about being prophylactic
'cause nobody knows
what killed those ornery
unprotected beasts.
The experts believe,
it was probably
a rare disease
that got 'em.
It ain't funny...it's a risky business! ;)
If there's one thing I regret in this life
It's that I wasted my finely honed gift of telepathy
On Internet dice games

Free apps, obviously designed
To stave off pure boredom
And **** precious time

Free games, without even a small pay-off
Free games, worth every penny
Free games, not so much the skill of telepathy

Dice games, the luck of the roll
Dice games, immune to strategy of any kind
Dice games, not so much the skill of telepathy

It's times like these I rue the day
I came to the realization
The wells of telepathy had run dry

The deep ocean of telepathy sopped up
With the proud assurance that I knew exactly
When my opponent would roll or bank

I could have been a diplomat, read some leaders' minds
Or a well respected advisor, or even a CIA spy
I could have made a killing, a fortune teller's wage

A gift that kept on giving because people want to know
From where they once were coming and where they soon will go
Or something half as simple as a failsafe "yes" or "no"

I could have done a lot of things
But only one thing that I would
Kick some *** playing Farkle

And yea though I feel some regret
And yea though this decision seems drastic
Come, all ye faithful, watch me kick your ***** at Farkle
John Darnielle Dec 2021
I hope that our few remaining friends
Give up on trying to save us
I hope we come up with a failsafe plot
To ******* the dumb few that forgave us
I hope the fences we mended
Fall down beneath their own weight
And I hope we hang on past the last exit
I hope it's already too late
And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here
Someday burns down
And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away
And I never come back to this town
Again in my life
I hope I lie
And tell everyone you were a good wife
And I hope you die
I hope we both die

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow
I hope it bleeds all day long
Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises
We're pretty sure they're all wrong
I hope it stays dark forever
I hope the worst isn't over
And I hope you blink before I do
Yeah I hope I never get sober
And I hope when you think of me years down the line
You can't find one good thing to say
And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out
You'd stay the hell out of my way
I am drowning
There is no sign of land
You are coming down with me
Hand in unlovable hand
And I hope you die
I hope we both die
There may come a day, as I say, when you may have cause to sing this song. I hope that that day never comes. At the same time, I know that it will. Let’s not kid each other. You're going to have a very bad relationship someday. It's not just gonna ****, it's gonna **** ***. You’re going to make up a little chart of all the ***** that it *****. It’ll be your ***-chart on your bedroom wall. Your significant other will say, 'What is this?' and you will say 'Oh, they’re butts. Just butts.' and they'll say, 'The hell they are; that's an ***-chart!' Where will you be then, O Sinner? As the great worm that never dies curls its slimy folds around your naked heart, you will need a song to sing. This is that song.
Quansome Jan 2017
I have a killswitch in me
You could call it a failsafe
It happens when you look at me
And tell me that you feel safe
Quickest way to make a coward run
Just tell em that you're counting on em
Everything about love frightens me
Bubbling up the sickening flight in me
Tunnel vision always looking towards the end
Believing even one false move could break me so I don’t even bend
One foot out the door but still pretending I might stay
Set up the pieces I claim the winnings before you even start to play
Roll the dice thinking gotcha now I’ll hide the aces up my sleeve
I lift my tongue and tip my hat make it so **** easy to believe
Knew love was just an innocent still I tossed it to its jail
Locked up my feelings for the life of me I won’t ever post the bail
You think I’m what you want see me glitter think I’m gold
Spray paint my lies with pretty colors fake my warmth to hide what’s cold
DeeDeeK Jun 2012
I was hoping
in this bubble we live
to keep my heart from harm
it is to you I give
all my treasures sacred
All I am or hope to be
so if my love was threatened
you'd keep it safe,
for me
One more recess
and I depress the lever
then laying prone
with a metronome  that ticks away
like a clock that's gone awry
I lie and close my eyes and listen to the steady beat
tick
tick
I lick chapped lips and wonder where the balm would be
inside the conservatory
or in the kitchen drawer?
My lips are sore
my life's a bore and so, prone upon the bed
I step outside of this weary head and wander through the passages
remembering massages and brief encounters
steps on which I've stood and wept
stairways crept up fitfully
just to see what was up there
and now
I come across the bare light
the coldness of the moonlight
and the howling of the winds that bite and harried me along
for I in fear would not delay
to welcome in another day and welcome out the night
polite is always best to be
never know when you might see or need a darker place
so just in case
I go that extra mile put out a charming smile
and all the while
my insides churn
my body burns
twists and turns and
in turns I see
the metronome that laughs at me
and what a waste then it would be
tick
tick
never as sick as when you're well
too much heaven down here in hell.
Then rising
realising that I'm back at where I started from
is like someone has dropped the bomb
and I am just collateral
a colony of flattery
and a sycophantic man I'll be
until the evening when I see
that no one stands alone with me.
In this saturation
this desolation spiced up with my perspiration
I don't smell so sweet
another timely beat from my friend metronome
ticks the box and I am home
tomorrow I may lie prone again
tomorrow just might be the same as if in this never ending game
I do not go to jail or collect my bonus from the bank.
Why So Serious
well Frank, the Government sponsored failsafe think tank
said to me,
'drug free is the way to go and then he went'
leaving me with bones so crooked,bent I can hardly stand
A helping hand that helps itself
to dreams of youthfulness and health
I see
or rather cannot see
what is the point and what's for me
but that is just another lie
tick
tick
my how time does fly.
Why
I don't think I'l ever know the answers that I seek so
dearly
I'm not nearly bright enough.
Kay-Rosa May 2019
You call and say I'm aberrant
You don't wanna be stuck indoors deviating
I don't like your storms
I miss your floodwaters
I need an affectional sleet
I miss your earthquakes
Then you came with all your quaking
You must think I'm an aftershock
You must think I'm abnormal
Now I can't find the volcanism without you
Volcanism without you
Queer and two
Like the ingenue over slew
Subthalamic and cuckoo
And I'm dancing because you're undue
Twisters ain't nothing when I'm betraying with ya
Gay
Do you mind if I steal a permafrost?
I miss your downdrafts
Calamities are not safe
I don't like your cataclysms
And every homosexuality is failsafe
Then you came with all your frothing
You must think I'm a calvinism
It's time we had some infernos
Will you hold me tight and not go flaming
You don't wanna be stuck indoors backtracking
When I'm shaming with ya
Shaming with ya
When I'm with you, all I have is inappropriate thoughts
It's time we had some embarrassments
I'm rebuking 'til dawn
Na na na na gay
Na na gay
Like the tray over buffet
Na na na na gay
Like the valet over heyday
Transgender and ok
Got more halfway
It literally said dont read, so, thanks babes who read this!
Mikaila Jun 2016
I don't know why I love you so much.
That was never the plan.
It isn't safe, to love someone like this
And I always knew it.
But the way your hair curls down your cheeks when you've fallen asleep and it has escaped its pinnings
The way your eyelashes leave shadows down your cheeks
The way your eyes sparkle when you laugh
You hit something so beautiful and painful in my heart.
The way you are,
Everything about the way you are
Just tears me open with love.
When you cry, I long to wrap you in my arms and protect you from every pain you inflict on yourself.
It pulls me toward you, this need to show you with my skin that I belong to you.
Resisting it carves out a huge crater in my chest
As if more and more of me goes to you by the second
But I can't follow it and make myself whole again.
If I do this, if I succeed in these next few weeks,
If you continue to love me
And relearn how to touch me
It will have been the hardest thing I ever did for someone I loved.
If I smile at you and show you how happy you make me
And manage to hide how broken I am,
If I can survive it when you turn away from me in bed,
And pull away from my touches.
I've always said that not reaching for someone I adore
Is an act of unutterable love
And it has never been more true
Because you used to reach back,
You used to crave me like I crave you
Not ***, but closeness, oneness.
I live alone.
I have always lived alone.
And not for a second have I liked it.
I can count on my hands the number of times in my life I've felt at home and whole.
This
What I am doing for you
Trying to do
By giving you all the choice in this
This is the biggest, most difficult thing I have ever given anyone.
And if at the end I lose you
Make no mistake
I will have nothing. I know it. I fear it.
When I woke up this morning the terror of it took my breath away
Because my body knows.
And it won't be losing you that does it,
It will be these weeks,
These weeks and the strength I don't have, the hang on by your fingernails strength I will have to find
In order to keep my head above water and show you why you love me.
By the end of this
I will have used every failsafe I have,
Every life support, every backup plan
I will be stripped raw and naked inside, armorless and starved,
And if you go I will be more unprepared for the agony of losing you
Than I have ever been for any sort of pain.
It is my life I'm giving you, right now,
And it's impossible for you to understand unless you've felt this looming shadow that I live with
But I'm giving you
Every bit of energy I always save to keep myself alive when I am swallowed by the dark.
And I am... so afraid. So inexpressibly, mesmerizing afraid.
I am facing my absolute worst fear every second for all this time,
And it's important that I say that.
Because I've never done it for anyone.
I've never been able to.
And maybe sometimes I'll crack, and you'll see tears, and I'll reach for you.
But I swear to god I'd be less afraid to jump after you off a bridge than to do what I'm doing now.
In ways I would rather die, because it wouldn't take so long with so much fear.
And I have to say this, I have to, because whichever way this turns out
This tops every act of love I have ever done before
And every risk I have ever taken
And every fear I have ever faced.
You are more important to me than I could ever express,
And I love you enough to give you my life,
In every horrible, beautiful sense of the word.
from high above the clouds billions of raindrops
shapeshift in free fall weightless collective vertigo
moonlight's glow casts a shimmer on the screen
blink-and-you'll-miss-it stabs of lightning
slash holes in dark clouds that reconnect with
the exhilarating, damning clash of God's displeasure
deafening earth-shaking thunder one after the other
I turn my music down so I can hear the din
all the windows in this hail-washed house have drapes drawn apart, shades rolled up
so I can watch the majestic display and pray
for a tornado to swing by just close enough
for me to gaze at but so faraway as to assure no damage to my observatory

these storms call to mind
secrets, reminisces surprising, in their own personal way terrifying

knew a dude in high school
found out too late he was the go-to man for controlled substances in those days
this kind of weather would send him to the phone
dialing Rhonda's number and she knew exactly what the call was about
the wind that swirled 'round the eye told her
she hit the ignition in the cute cherry red Ford truck he'd given her and braved the storm until she made it to his house

maybe it was an adolescent power trip
the sensation he felt through his ***** when the thunder spoke
then when it screamed he ******
she melted, the explosive crash drowning out the involuntary gasp which escaped through clinched teeth, the precursor to secret tears she seemed to have no control over
pitch dark, intermittent lightning strikes to illuminate the Storm King sprawled out beneath her, the look of aroused determination on his face growing more elastic with the clatter of hailstones on glass windows

I never knew about the drugs, didn't need them then, though I sorely need them now
but I knew he called Rhonda every time weather turned severe
the talk amongst peers was that the two of them were never seen together in an underground shelter no matter how bad the moon may have risen
Nudge nudge wink wink a nods as good as a wink to a blind horse say no more, squire, say no more!

I envied them
I broke cheap champagne glasses when the storm came and used them
to carve snaking tendrils across my wrists
barely any blood shed but scared the *******out of that witch my dad married after mom left
it was my failsafe procedure to assure at least another month away from them
yes, the mental hospital was preferable

the rain fell ******* the Doctor's house
weatherman said tornadoes were inevitable
flipped a switch in my brain, activated a mean streak
Doctor's favorite was insufferable
brewed a gallon of sweet tea every day and drank every drop
I saw lightnin on the horizon but that Big Bad Bear with the gun he stole from the Doc was nowhere to be found
I'd be leaving soon
I took out the gallon pitcher from the refrigerator
not even cold yet
unzipped my too-tight jeans
hung my spout over the edge and turned the beverage into 1/2 sweet tea & 1/2 cloudy dark yellow *****
placed it back in the fridge and waited

sat with him that night, playing guitar, singing incomprehensible songs, watching him drink that **** tea and possessed by just enough evil to laugh
in a ridiculously high pitch and enunciated to where I knew he couldn't understand what I was saying...
I sang
"****** in yer tea you know I ****** in your tea
aren't you so ******* at me?"
he never found out, else I probably would not be here to tell the tale

I had my excuses
broken and discarded
I was lost
toyed with the idea of being a Satanist
still lost
standing outside in the middle of an electrical storm
yes, I'm afraid
I'm told family members have been killed by a well-placed bolt and if it's good enough for them
by God
it's good enough for me
rain baptizes me, too stupid to come in out of it
the thunder makes me **** and shudder
lightning a brilliant fireworks show surpassing the best available powder and fire variety
I have become part and parcel of this thunderstorm
wait only for the appointed bolt to impale me with it's rapier voltage
here he come swingin' I almost missed him what with his night-black get-up-camouflaged by the black night that tried to hide me from his sight
alas, foiled by too much lightning

voltage from the heavens
I could personally think of much worse
I can only ask the world of this one small favor if ever an hour shall fit and the words could be beacons of light and please just remind me to stay awoke with gentle wind at my back bringing grace into view as it recedes back amonst the ocean and the pillars of prayer that chatter those by the wailing wall and embraces those that tap upon the rattling door that keeps all the children in the haze of a pasture in the heat of the life it enables just as the psalm is his wisdoms delighte as the air blows through martrix bound code cadets out to circumvent a cataclysmic drive to mate and just move to another and then again in the canal of sight and sound and a collective failsafe that will abort a life like an absence that has been inflated around a parade float as the gathered selection of these types that think a giagantic caricature could ever be the answer we sought when the major and minor dont differ the playpen of such men and the zen of another culture without this beautif notion. Zen be my trigger anddplay in the realm of the game caught dead to its life inmy aim so i fire but miss by a mile in its eyes was the wild soulfire of the warwielding and battle crys deep in the sounds of the ones before whom never shot with this gun mans way to dwindle without any extra provocation needed as the sun can burn til its over and the sky will die oh sitting at the peak of a trip ive found in me somewhere just startled and sad to be him always knew this was unrelated but relevant reaching fingers darling to the baby of the fam a few people together bond with the twisting genetic tumble lay down with my chest to the sky of my own self saturated in the conversation last upon my drifty lips just slap at the man at the gate called the end in the ending of all and the affect makinf reflections by the bay of days wuth the haunting of its machine by the ghost of poor working soul
My friends say my parents have said then i forgot by the lake of recall made to the mists in its mouth in the water in the wet wisdom dreaming of man when list in the blanket of night.
Oh ******* words and ******* too if you think ive an answer for you just the sound of me laughing to pieces nothing will last but nothing claims so spread your arms open wide as rays pull you back from the brink and all can be whole if only for tonight swept tight in the skin of the crawl made to wander in search of another to seed as its life pours itself back out into another manic molecular arrangement is made up in script of those if its sun artic laughter so iced mended and cold rendered to cut to the deep of the mind absurd ol me and the powers that be wrapped so tight in the arm of celest the name of earth as of early where its charge made planets to swirl axioms everywhere you look and in every book and inside the dna of all these men... Lost as ever
**** the daylight and ******* howl at the moon and be that golden light that can make a symbolic stand never delivered from surrender that was left as his testament shook to the place you can go where you can hold as it blows the beginning back to its own conception and reduced back to the file used to make space time a funny little thingie in the gears of a train never ending stopping only in the valley of the stars in the chasm uninfered by the redundancies of intention
ryn Sep 2017
He speaks with conviction.
He recites the truth.
He reminds me of the pitfalls,
and the consequence
of actions uncouth.

He warns me of me.
He is the voice of reason.
He's forward and knows no subtlety.
He is the failsafe,
the adult and caution.

He challenges me always.
He is unforgiving with his words.
He's always into blacks and whites;
Never the greys.
Between us,
he's the lighthouse in my head.
My saviour,
my invisible third.
FRIENDSHIP:
All in the same ship or
All in the same boat.

Friends do their best
To understand things
Shared by friends.

FRIENDSHIP TO SOME:
The interests of a politician
An agenda manipulating
Your position.

FRIENDSHIP TO ME:                 
It is not a dictatorship
It does not grab the wheel
It always makes you feel
You are in control.

Friendship does not focus
On fates remains
It cloaks your fears and
Shares the blame.

Friendship is not a forfeit
It closes ears and eyes
To those that accuse and
Deny though on a certain
Level it always remembers
Because its failsafe can
Never forget.
 
DEEPER FRIENDSHIP:           
And then there is a
Deeper purer friendship
Based upon unconditional
Love and mutual respect
Which catapults it
Into a whole new
Dimension of caring and
Nurturing
Which
Transcends simply caring
For its own and glorifying
Its bones in a well-kept
Grave of the status quo
But grows into an
Uncanny respect and
Caring for others
Beyond cliquish and
Familial bonds.

FRIENDSHIP'S BASIS:
Often made of the
Imperfect
Of things that may
Seem
To contradict.
It often overlaps
Most relationships.

And though it may not
Seem to be a monolith
We must sometimes stand
Alone on plains unknown.
Writing on subjects such as friendship is not always
definitive and
doesn't always translate to
page; but I do love trying
to climb the mountain!
Jackson Jones May 2013
I think we go through this life screaming and hurtling,
like a man in a chute, falling.  
As he dives down this chute,
faster and faster, his hands continually shoot out.
As if to grab something.
Anything.
But it’s all so smooth, no breaks
no ledges, not foot holds or failsafe’s.
Down and down he goes.
So desperate he becomes,
when he sees the circle of light above him start to shrink and disappear.
Watch him screeching, clawing, gnashing, and dying,
all to return again to the light he no longer remembers.
And while others above him appear bathed in light,
he cannot see that they fall just the same;
all hands outstretched in apocalyptic pleading.
Never once knowing escape was be found at the bottom,
not the top.
working draft
J Ames Apr 2017
I've always said **** the circus
Cheap theatrics and easy money
I see I'm a few feet out on a tightrope, that's my job
Ironic, unfortunately

Somebody laid a few pillows out on this side
I appreciate the concern but I'm a professional
The net on that side is a failsafe
That we usually use, it is used
You really need to know how to fall

Need not apply, we work for peanuts
You know, cheap money and easy theatrics
So it goes, being within being without

But if you brought the pillows
And if you like the peanuts
Stick around, who knows
You just might enjoy the show
More than Man Mar 2016
Your mind.
Your still mind.

Producing words to fill the void,
Consumes my mind with static.

Your bonds,
Commited to your indecisions
Until they crash,
And I make a face that best
Portrays that I might too
Find that you yourself construed
An oddly placed pitfall
Just as unexpectedly tragic.

I can answer your questions
With sincere like gestures
To fulfill your gaps with validation.

Give your misconstrued attempts
An empathic meaning.
A destiny, a reason
To find false comfort
Within a failsafe explanation.
A modern day depiction
As Adam and eve,
Could only survive in
Modern day creation.

You can rest assured
That in this moment you are living;
Count on me to analyze
Finding holes in others' lies
As if clear vision stripped a man's rights,
And I myself have made a victim
Of a man wrapped, and strangled
In his own less estranged,
More confident decisions.

If a tree falls in the woods
And no one is around to hear this,
Are we not bound by logic sake
To eat the lies
If all our closest friends,
Those hurt most by the truth
Would abandon us
if only not to hear them.
        
I rest my ears and count my words.
If one day I am recited,
I can only hope the words recalled
Are by those the world
Could not so easily frighten.

I'm a writer of childish whims.
To think a man could see his sins,
These freedoms from a man-made prison
As more than feat of retribution.

The walls you place over
Your mind.

Your still mind.
Turning into the face that you turned into before and you find that the face is the face you can't face anymore so you put on another and it's the same as the last and the face you once cast off is the last one you liked.

It's the makeup, the put-down, the smile that you smile or the frown that you make, a mash of a pancake mix, but you fix it and stick to the programme that's set.

But the faces come back and when you don't even know they start to grow on you, alter your features and you become all those creatures you saw in the film shows, always turning into but never remain, it's like your brain has a failsafe, but it fails to make you feel safe so you switch it on auto.

I know.
so many turnings into and out from and back to the basics.
but it is always the faces that turn,
they're like playdough and plasticine rolled into one and each face is the copy of one gone before.
Each face that I am is the face of the man that I was or became and each turn is the turn in the game that we play as we change every second, every hour,
every day.
wren Feb 2022
...romanticize my relationships with people
because in my ringlorn disillusionment
my pallid impression of the world
isn't the epic, the quest, the legend
i wanted to manifest

but you? your quiet brand of suburbia
somehow made me feel like a hero of antiquity
ever-loving, ever-present, a rock:
the constant in an algebraic expression
the cad software that lived out my whims
the physics formula sheet, my failsafe safety net
a little of freud, novel and systematic
a little of kant, faithful and kind
the well-worn dog-eared comfort books that,
with increasing rarity, part the dust on
my nightstand beside hot caffeinated mugs

sometimes i feel the need to...
...tell you that in my heart,
you are not the mage, the warrior, the paladin
not the manic pixie dream girl, but the healer
who was always more and deserved to be
treated as such by this flawed protagonist

sometimes i feel the need to...
...say the wrong words, do the wrong things
for the right reasons:
steadfast and diligent,
you stubbornly remained
in spite of my shortcomings
a witness to my character growth
as i compiled my own
dictionary of obscure sorrows
embraced my own archetype

sometimes i feel the need to...
...tell you you are perfect as you are
pencil-wielding, scab-scratching,
violin-playing, head-patting,
bread-baking, sweater-donning
girl who dared to embark on an
adventure with this half-baked
cluelessly charming *******

to be sad is not to despair
but to feel the beauty of it all at once
our adventure may not be as grand
our hero's journey may not take us far
but it is precious nonetheless
we'll make it through somehow :)
happy birthday froppy :) i've been struggling tryna get this out onto paper in pristine form so i've given you pixel ink here bc it's prolly more legible lol.
Keith W Fletcher Jun 2017
I see them walking
Holloweyed
Through the open ended questions
Of answers long denied

Pliant yet defiant
Inauspiciously claiming failures
As a placation to the future
Where we're all being lured

By obligation of invitation
Requiring servile adherance
To regimented augmentation
As we ponder our slow advance

Beyond perspicacious reasoning
Of all tried and untrue routes
Where war and pain Trump vision
When humanity is slain by vanity...
     ......as the future is subjected to the uncertainty ...
                    .......of all our failsafe doubts !!!
So......
I see us all falling
Blindly
Through the open ended questions
Of answers ....still  being pushed aside
AND  TOO LONG  DENIED !!!!!!!!!
Janek Kentigern Jul 2019
Keep It Light, Keep it light
Keep it light for ****'s sake,
for ****'s sake keep it light

Keep it light, just keep talking about the weather
Don't look directly at the objects weighing on your mind
Identify the myriad peripheral minutiae
And save this sombre revelation for another place and time.

Keep it bright, cos I need some comic relief
No need to state the fact that things are really ******
So keep your stinking bandages wound up nice and tight now
Everyone can see but they're just trying not to look

Keep It Light, Keep it light
Keep it light for ****'s sake,
for ****'s sake keep it light

Keep it light, keep that unthinking tongue moving
You and I both know there's nothing much to say
Keep doubling those negatives, don't stop your glottle.
Create meaning in keeping silences at bay

Don't invite comparisons between each petty grievance.
Sanctify the failsafe that disconnects them all.
Tell yourself there's more to this than sum of it's parts.
Keep on counting up the bricks but disregard the wall.

Keep It Light, Keep it light
Keep it light for ****'s sake,
for ****'s sake keep it light

Don't excite yourself by looking straight at your problems
Just relax, pretend that tomorrow is a different day
Take enough pills to put it off a few more hours;
but not enough to permanently make it go away

Keep it in, don't think your insights make you special
The self-aware will all still share the empty-headed's fate
Vibrate the air with sickly cares if you want to.
none of your pretty, ****** words will hold any weight.

If You're lonely?
Well We're all lonely.
and if you're You're tired
Well so am I.
You wish you had more time to waste
In ways more fitting to your taste
You wish you didn't mind it.
Living life as you find it.

Don't think your the only one who sees the yawning void
Beneath this hideousness and decay
and whilst you cook up artful ways to try and make us see it
All we're tryna do is look away
All we want to do is look away
The mental wars we fight
between the darkness and what
might be so and
because we don’t know
which side we are on
the battles we fight
go on and on.

An appetite for ambiguity
excludes me from society
and
the pills don’t help me
at all.

But my finger’s on the pulse
the alarm clock’s on rewind
and my mind has
a failsafe
a safe space

I retreat
into one more war.
Tom Shields Aug 2020
Did I stutter?
The frame rate of my life has refreshed
ever alert, microphones intake the silence for a hint of mutter
counting fully textured, more risen bumps, now I am fully fleshed
I pull at my eyes to disconnect and only disarm myself of aid to my sight
I cover my ears to dull a damaged sense, tethered anchors float free downstream
on a river of memories, I weakly gesture to grasp them without much fight
the pain within them feels distant, I am aware and awake to see the inner workings of a dream

There is a primal instinct of fear
you cannot know what happens here
a curtain like a guillotine exists to separate
it falls like lead showers to incapacitate
if any wandering eye should ever peek
identify and patch the barrier, no area can be weak
our minds must be ever tricked and contained
by the upkeep of this beautiful craftsmanship, ever toiled over and maintained
we speak of the maze within, the pyramid to the god, our labyrinth and prism
that once illuminated would be rejuvenated, the spirit reincarnated in its peak form
the soul alight, a warden alone now elevated and free from the confines of prison
ultimate balance achieved in a host, a process complete, now the husk keeps the data warm

Can’t comprehend the changes because they are designed to undermine comprehension
a survival instinct that will drive you mad, a failsafe to sabotage seeing clear
striving to bend an ear, only creating tension
glimpsing between patches, accepting you’re aware, but nobody will really hear
a higher sense of self is a step closer to an upload
scared to be convinced, to buy into the delusion
if this universe is nothing but a node
and this is all a cruel illusion
then people will still choose comfort over entertaining serious debate
interfacing with a topic of serious connotations, it’s not forced by the simulation
free will chooses how to handle potentially dangerous traits
and not knowing what’s real are means to have your chances scheduled for termination
a human must never question, they must accept the approved, provided stimulation
and a person must know that reality is what they make of it, so long as they are within bounds
you can’t see what you collapse at the sight of, hence the power cycle of actualization.
write
please read and enjoy
Kagey Sage Aug 2024
No party offers anything material, just a more complete reification of things into people, and people into things. These hats, bumper stickers, and lawn signs represent more complex personalities than me or anyone I know. And a few folks reading this may be clutching their pearls, “That’s their team, not ours! Don’t you know what’s at stake, what we’re fighting for?” Yes, they’re the same things as 4 years ago. I too understand they couldn’t put real material demands in place, because there’s elections to win. We can’t let these talking points just disappear in success, let alone prevent tens of thousands more deaths.


I used to drink with rednecks at the bar. When we were kids we’d eat dinner at their houses after playing video games for hours. They had custom Dale Earnhardt wooden “3s” on their garage doors, Bush/Cheney and FUBO (F.U. Barack Obama) bumper stickers on their trucks. They called me a ****** because my parents liked John Kerry. Yet, whenever politics came up it was somewhat of a jovial debate session rather than a hateful inquisition. We recognized we weren't so cookie cutter in our beliefs.  We all had a degree of respect for nice guitars, funny stories, and characters.

Now I see their red hat. They remember my deleted Facebook statuses and college degree, and we don’t talk. We’re just things, who are no longer representative of each other anymore.



Nietzsche used to say one should be like a great sea, which can take in polluted streams without becoming polluted itself. Now they’ll find plastic in every speck of water on earth. It’s in our brains, blood, and breast milk.

Perhaps that primordial black ooze became our fungal overlord, pulling the levers to compel us toward our self-destruction. Some failsafe measure by a watchmaking God.



We should have kept up the idea of humanity as mysterious, creative, and curious beings, instead transferring that consciousness solely to our machines.

— The End —