Between the Gap

April 17, 2013

By Magnolia

 

It’s that small whisper in-between the fog

Wounds hushed by plush snow

and woeful hearts melted through tepid strokes.

Light, right before the fade of dark.

An abandoned desert first touched by the print of man.

Or fire seduced by adjacent streams.

It’s that closing of the gap as I near you.

Can you feel it?

The swaying hairs reaching from my arm.

Can you see it?

My swollen iris, lids double fluttering.

Or can you hear the wings of butterflies

pounding against captured air.

Long, rolling, syllables,

thinly spread upon a bed of silence;

begging to fill the space where you begin and I end.

And why is that as far as I’m allowed to get,

beside the respite of breath billowing between our lips?

I want to subsist inside the gap.

The difference of the two?

  A slight of hand,

a slit between being alive and merely breathing.

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Her Speech

April 4, 2013

By: Magnolia

Her lethargic breath was rooted in the cave of a cumbersome heart.

Standing a foot the blank podium, tethered by opportunistic strings,

was the birth of a whisper

ascended into what became, a cataclysmic thought.

Like spiraling stairs with no beginning nor end, she spoke.

“Ejected from the gorge of emotional destitution,

I have realized that I have ascribed form to an existence that is but a shadow,

if not a dream.

And while I’ve remained fixed upon my daily deeds

I have abandoned my internal needs;

Misguiding shapes inside a living tomb.

I call upon the earth to fissure beneath my brain,

To thwart an arrow into the chasm of my heart,

and to pardon this lump of clay’s weary ways.

Soil and ice, no longer will you replace permutable fog.

For truth, a concept whose doors are not open for interpretation,

alas,  has made the journey through pore and rushing blood and found its home

upon electrical wires  breathing life into a paralyzed heart.

I say, empty handed and fragmented from a self-induced illusion,

that, that which is, is not a at all, and that which is to be, is to exists inside of me.

Compelled to create prickled shapes that would garner me the world, while gazing upon a blank wall, all at the expense of my heart beat.

Fair exchange it was not.

For I have spent most of my clock devouring the irrelevant, in hopes of quenching a parched soul,

and merely numbing it in the process.

But now with exhumed vision and  frail valves,

I have but one thing I want to do, and nothing else.

With the elegance of life’s exoskeleton bewildering my eyes,

And with the seed of creation rousing a previously unemployed  heart

Through inspired skin and  resurrected possibility 

from below me and above,

my only purpose here,

is to love.

 

I can’t help but think storms are beautiful.

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“Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history.”

Plato

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of love, every man becomes a poet.”

Plato

“According to Plato, we don’t learn anything. Our soul has lived so many lives that we know everything. Teachers and education can only remind us of what we already know.”

Misty – Diary by Chuck Palahniuk

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Through inspired skin and  resurrected possibility 

from below me and above,

my only purpose here,

is to love.

Nothing is ever really lost, or can be lost,
No birth, identity, form–no object of the world.
Nor life, nor force, nor any visible thing;
Appearance must not foil, nor shifted sphere confuse thy brain.
Ample are time and space–ample the fields of Nature.
The body, sluggish, aged, cold–the embers left from earlier fires,
The light in the eye grown dim, shall duly flame again;
The sun now low in the west rises for mornings and for noons continual;
To frozen clods ever the spring’s invisible law returns,
With grass and flowers and summer fruits and corn.

I caught a cab from 1st and everywhere,

drove around the city, head out the window, wind in my hair.

I was looking for you.

Lips pouting in  ready rouge and black sheer.

*

How many ways do I need to tell you,

or better yet no,

 I’ll show you.

*

You’ve awoken the lioness.

I was sleeping,

panting heavy,

slow and rolling;

ready to be waked.

*

And then,

I was upside down.

Feeling the red leak, one drip drop to the tip of my brain

pushing against eyes, as I smiled and pretended to be sane.

*

It’s like being shot in the heart and loving, no needing the taste.

It’s walking alone in the dark while twisting and winding your waist.

And all I see,

are visions,

of you.

*

How about,

I’ll show you,

I’ll tell you,

no matter how.

*

I’ll show you,

I’ll tell you,

right now.

*

I bought a pair of silk stalkings

hoping they would speak to you;

it was black lace, see-through.

I slid um up my leg and well,

the rest was in my head.

I took the candles to bed and let the wax tilt and play

and my skin, well, it was red and warm the next day.

*

In all my millenniums, if there’s any time to look into my eyes

it’s right now.

No coy, only candid.

Can you see yourself in them?

 Splendid.

A sculptor slaving over swallow happy skin.

And me, holding all my giggles in the corners of my grin.

*

And note,

that this omission,

is  for you,

and only you.

*

I only want to open my arms to

the one who can truly grasp

 the point,

to all,

of this.

But do tell me,

do you wonder how I kiss?

*

I’m constantly pouring myself over roses,

redefining the color of steam,

hoping to be unmasked, and then finally,

seen.

*

See I was porcelain,

stuck in one position;

until your heat,

it thawed me out.

*

I’m like a bee playing with a cat

“here kitty kitty,

But don’t by fooled by size, my bite stings,

deeply deeply.

*

And while looking for you,

you better find me soon.

Because frankly,

my darling,

life is quite boring without the bloom.

*

See, you’re like honey clinging to it’s bottle

lecherous, halting and light.

But one day, suddenly

you’ll be weighted with the desire to reach the tongue,

with all your might.

And well,

I might yawn

and even possibly,

be

long

gone.

*

Although I must say,

weighted in me, is so much of you.

*

Besides, who will help me put my pearls on

and slip on my black nylons.

*

Oh, and if you’re wondering.

I taste like

rain,

vapor

and rose pedals.

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Photo: Katja

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Photo: Calvin♥

Photo: Calvin♥

Photo: Calvin♥

atong

Photo: Calvin♥

Photo: Katja

I only want to open my arms to

the one who can truly grasp

 the point,

to all,

of this.

But do tell me,

do you wonder,how I kiss?

To You, My Heart

March 24, 2013

I have come to great resolve

and must attest,

bare chested and with the wealth of every beat,

that had I but one last breath,

it would belong to you.

*

Spacious valves

dazzled skin

and captured soul,

Orchestrated by the abounding measures of an enchanted organ.

*

 Awash in the corners of each chamber

are your prints, apparent and benign.

*

Alive inside mellifluous veins

streams the rapture of a discovered being.

*

But my castle of bones, how quickly they do relent.

Not withstanding, my crux remains,

past soil, bloom, and flight

an immeasurable part of you.

*

Opulent warmth

fermented dreams

& imbued crimson

Splashed inside an infinitely swelling fortress.

*

In the simplest of terms,

You are therefore I beat.

Gin Soaked Visions

March 23, 2013

By: Magnolia

He dreamt of her standing there,

dead center in the midnight of Time Square.

He snuggled against the light post,

Beard choking neck and gin washing teeth.

Wishing he was drunk off her skin and being wrapped in her sheets.

And as he sat in the cold, damp rain, and tapped his toe to the rhythm of his pain

He held his glass up to the light and thought with some doubt & fright,

  “If I stare through this long enough, will I be free from all this stuff.”

Soaked hair and bottle to chest, he closed his eyes and imagine her, in a dark, snug black dress.

And a smile couldn’t help but brush upon his lips as he dreamt of this woman’s undying kiss.

Who was she? This Helen of Troy,

a woman who turned the men into gaga eyed boys.

She was the boom, bass,

the last and sweetest drop out of a borosilicate wineglass.

She was worth leaving it all behind,

Rumpus days of playing the field

 and all his fake egotistical shields.

She was all the S’ssss that slide and slip off the sides of your tongue,

Sleek, silly, sophisticated, selfless and selectively sensuous.

And when she walked, trees that even the wind couldn’t bend

Would recline against the breath of men just to see her walk back and forth

again

and again.

Even reality readjusted it’s disposition for her.

As she didn’t live by the rules, she bent them & made um’ blur.

Shaking his head, he reminisced about the good old days

When riding the bus as a little guy,

he’d get excited by just a whiff of perfume as one of um’ walked by.

Or throwing stones

making wishes for a woman that unhinged jawbones.

And now, the only way he can find an Athena, Aphrodite or a Nyx is by

staring at the bottom of his glass or by reading Jane Austen classics.

But never mind all that,

’cause he ain’t budging for no woman unless she’s worth the combat.

He wants to be apart of a new revolution,

constructed with transparency and framed with the buoyancy of clouds in union.

He wants to be unraveled and shape shifted.

Oxygen revived and see something worth lifting the lid of his eye.

And until that day, arrives

he’ll hold his gin up to the lights;

waiting for that one

whose heart is worth it’s wait in gold, who makes a revelry out of growing old.

___________________________

GIN SOAKED VISIONS

He dreamt of her standing there,

dead center in the midnight of Time Square.

He snuggled against the light post,

 

Beard choking neck and gin washing teeth

Wishing he was drunk off her skin and being wrapped in her sheets.

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And as he stood in the cold, damp rain, and tapped his toe to the rhythm of his pain

He held his glass up to the light and thought with some doubt & fright,

  “If I stare through this long enough, will I be free from all this stuff.”

 

Soaked hair and bottle to chest, he closed his eyes and imagine her, in a dark, snug black dress.

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And a smile couldn’t help but brush upon his lips as he dreamt of this woman’s undying kiss.

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Who was she?

(images: Sergio Albiac)

This Helen of Troy,

FotoFlexer_Photo

 

a woman who turned the men into gaga eyed boys.

She was the boom, bass

the last and sweetest drop out of a borosilicate wineglass.

She was worth leaving it all behind,

Rumpus days of playing the field

 and all his fake egotistical shields.

 

She was all the S’ssss that slide and slip off the sides of your tongue,

Sleek, silly, sophisticated, selfless and selectively sensuous.

And when she walked, trees that even the wind couldn’t bend

Would recline against the breath of men just to see her walk back and forth

again

and again.

Even reality readjusted it’s disposition for her.

As she didn’t live by the rules, she bent them & made um’ blur.

Shaking his head, he reminisced about the good old days

When riding the bus as a little guy,

he’d get excited by just a whiff of perfume as one of um’ walked by.

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Or throwing stones

making wishes for a woman that unhinged jawbones.

 

And now, the only way he can find an Athena, Aphrodite or a Nyx

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 is by staring at the bottom of his glass or by reading Jane Austen classics.

 

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But never mind all that,

’cause he ain’t budging for no woman unless she’s worth the combat.

He wants to be apart of a new revolution,

constructed with transparency and framed with the buoyancy of clouds in union.

He wants to be unraveled and shape shifted.

Oxygen revived and see something worth lifting the lid of his eye.

 

And until that day, arrives

he’ll hold his gin up to the lights;

waiting for that one

whose heart is worth it’s wait in gold, who makes a revelry out of growing old.

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La Luna

March 22, 2013

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Once upon a moonlit tale, born inside a planted jar,

is where he fell in love with a delicate evening glowing star.

While trapped inside this heavy mass,

he reached his rays beyond the glass.

Though stuck and filled with fright, he knew one thing,

He’d do anything to have her see his light.

So pointed at the night one day,

he poured himself upon the fractured driveway.

Swimming in-between its cracks,

he found his way upon the oceans back.

And while challenged betwixt the midnight waves,

He held on to the glimmer of light inside of her beating gaze.

And when reaching became tiresome and the wind a heavy burden

He reached upon the feathers of a willing black raven.

Into the sky this light was carried,

while pulsating he hid his eyes beneath ruffled feathers, hopeful & teary

From beneath the oceans belly to sleeping above a bed of cotton

His dreams became more puissant, as he neared the place once forgotten.

And as he reached the sky, he let out a big breath and died.

With abrupt euphoria his rays danced inside the darkness

And his message thundered into the void where her heart was.

“Can’t you see my love,

the world is so small and we big in it.

I just needed to think that beings like you exist.

I hope its okay for me to confess all of this.”

And before his final word was etched,

she reached her arms to him outstretched.

Pressed against the midnight sky, her lips upon his cheek she kissed

And revealed they collided, taking pleasure in each-others eternal bliss.

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Begin Again

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To the Be of Things

March 20, 2013

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You didn’t.

I did.

We aren’t.

*

So now sway and tilt and droop,

I will not.

*

No more,

Lull, mum, quiet,

Little

sounds.

*

I’m going,

to the Be of things.

*

Big,

brazen,

beautifully bazaar.

*

No more

Twinkled eyes, prancing pain and panicked,  pleasing.

But barefoot and bold,

boomingly, blissful

un-bashful- beats!

*

Rhythms made foreign to an over-bending back.

Bent on pleasing,

Bent on appeasing.

Coddling?  I must be stronger

Truant? Any? no longer.

*

I’m going

beyond busted glass with bodaciously blue lips

Blemished with brawn as a  bombshell buxom

*

Comatose till shock did I part

What was once dull is now silver

and stingingly,

 sharp.

*

 And decidedly so,

as a Be,

is so much bigger,

than a frowning spine and passive tongue;

Traced,

by behemoth pain.

Released through hot and sweaty

legs and neck and fingers and veins.

All,

tied,

to the key of believing past a running brain and scattered eyes.

So then I must.

I’m moving,

To the Be of things.

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The actual photo failed, so I give you:<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
The inverted inside of a polaroid

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The Sixth Element

March 3, 2013

By: Magnolia

I sat in silence, squeezing at the first fruit I saw in sight.

And as I crushed it,

Bruised, its tears bled between the angst collected in the gut of my palm,

And It absorbed my pain.

I wanted it all to cease

Clocks

Work

Things

And every element known to man, in which I supposed I could survive without.

Starved my body would wilt, but with you, my Sixth Element,

Through you my being is infinite

My divinity and happiness

Defined by the mere possibility of being cradled inside the womb of your arms

For together, we are a monochromatic combustion of harmony.

 *

But I lament,

For I have the feeling, that you are far away;

Your spirit near but your body,

It’s far away.

And as I watch the world roll by,

And fill my mind with ideas, materials and longing,

They all rot away;

Insignificant without you.

*

The sea, earth, sky, fire, wind, and you, my Sixth Element.

The crucial crux to my existence

You are my thoughts final burial place.

For no matter how busy this sphere gets

And I busy in it, will there ever be

A substitution for this feeling

Created and filled,

In what would normally take a thousand lifetimes,

By the life captured inside the streams of your rising chest

 *

Your breath is my sixth element,

The released & genuflecting wave,

The tectonic shift,

The fearlessness at the edge of a cliff.

The exquisite point to which all else rotates.

And your skin, a road-map leading to the tip of your lips;

The place where all longing is quenched,

And where silence is arced into shapes only seen by me.

 *

 You have shifted the melody of the sun and moon

With my nights being consumed with closed eyed images of you

A kaleidoscope of possibilities trapped inside of me.

With my eyes, never asleep for you.

And my days locked in the knowing

That no matter what I do or how much I grab,

You are the only thing, that I must, I have to have.

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By: Magnolia

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Ohhhh! You jingle jangled vexation!

So shaken, and oh,  so stirred;

Like the twisted teeth of a beast, finely smoothened to a round, creamed nub,

Nibbled and disturbed.

Untilted tie and just finely combed stands of brazened, babbling hair;

Collected and composed by slowly moving fingers, hypersensitive and aware.

The heart of a seeker skying across a row of wilted men and tawdry woman.

Vehement with drooling hunger in search of delicious, dapperly virtuous words.

Doomed to levitation till the ground beautifies its attitude, displaying lament.

Forget about maybe, sorta’, possibly, next time, try again, next give me now!

Interweave yourself within the tidings of my ticking soul anyway somehow.

Abate my angst,

Resurrect my serenity,

Give my feet a reason to kiss the ground.

Ubiquitous clay rise to meet me.

Sincerely and Truly,

Your

Lone

Floating

Daisy.

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Midnight Interlude

February 10, 2013

By: Magnolia

To this experience, she was a guest.

Her usual floppy stance became erect and watchful.

Her eyes scintillated and sunken in fright

As a phantom, superior and with bizarre curiosity

Arose, deliberate, detached and delighted while dismembering itself

Inside the lucidity of a half- remembered dream where

All walls collapsed

Atoms took to beat and

Form neglected the boundaries of human conceptualization.

And while reality took to bed possibility

Buildings skipped from side to side, back and forth in comical repetition.

Red became green, blue, pink and plush purple.

Numbers echoed their  “I am’s” until they, like a string of pearls, conjoined into a choir of nothing but decoration in an empty space.

Fatality became a companion only to walking apathy

Bombastic unpredictability became soothing potential

Quick became irrelevant

And like the sloth, all had abandoned the clock

And just like that, slow became comfortable.

This outer body experience left her observing the shell she originally inhabited

As all it’s questions, and pondering and confused, rampant vocalization,

Silenced her ghostly lips, and all that remained, was one thought

“Am I dead, or am I free?” a wonder that lasted but a second,

For suddenly the turbulence of beauty sliced into her experience

And the happiness of a moment coded in the feeling of a kiss;

Encircled, nuzzled and clutched every molecule

Below and between the gaps of every impossibility.

And a voice breathed forth the

Absence of fear and the presence of peace into an anxiety filled form

Everything was nothing, and nothing was everything.

And all that mattered, embraced the obsolete.

Closed eyes, and in the silence of her peace, her skin whispered, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

And in the dark, the face of an old man, expressionless, and bound to no sense of gravity

With one look, injected truth into into her barely beating veins,

“My love, thou inhibits all and everything. Boundless, you are the mother, father, daughter and son of creation. And your soft gel like tissues, afloat inside a castle of bones? A mere means of transport in a sea of possibility.”

And while her veins pouted in swollen satisfaction, with her last ounce of strength before her soul cavorted with a sleeping body, she said,

“I understand now, but if I forget later?”

And with no words, he thumped the answer into her heart,

“Then close your eyes and open your child.”

With those last words, she awoke

Drenched in the knowing that there was nothing more to be done,

She surrendered to trying and excavated complexity from the jaws of her trained mind.

And her eyes, drooped in the reckless abandonment of being in love with the infinite,

Tickled inside her enlivened flesh.

For there was no becoming she already was.

May I Present…Beat Rhino

February 9, 2013

The boom, bass and beat behind music exists in the soul of Beat Rhino.

Ladies and gentlemen, may, I present one of the best beatboxers in the country, born in South Korea, and raised in the United States from age ten and on, Moonsoo Jo, has established himself in the world of beatboxing as a genius sound engineer.  In 2007, after hearing a friend, Airickq beatbox, Beat Rhino was hooked. He created a music crew with whom he performs alongside, called Lafia Crew in 2008. With the most malleable vocal cords, Beat Rhino is able to mimic and create symphonic beats that sound like they’re coming straight out of the instrument themselves.

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A sophomore at UCLA, Beat Rhino is a Mechanical Engineer, who spends his time outside the classroom, if not on stage performing, then perfecting and practicing to create spellbinding beats throughout the campus. Matter of fact, when I met him, he was near the UCLA track bleachers engineering the most wicked vocal beats.

This past January, he won the Wildcard Contest for the Grand Beatbox Battle  2013 which will be held in Basel, Switzerland. He will be the first  to represent the USA in the event’s history.

 

 (BScene Grand Beatbox Battle Badges)

So, without further ado may I present,

the U.S representative and

one of the best vocal percussionist in the business

Beat Rhino

(2013 with a performance at Beacher’s Madhouse, Los Angeles)
(art cred: Shrimpie Jin)
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Name and  where were you born?

Moonsoo Jo aka Beat Rhino. Daegu, South Korea

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College and major?

UCLA, mechanical engineering

What do you want to do for a living for the rest of your life?

music / creative field

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*

Describe your personality in five words.

watery, vast, optimistic, fun loving, hungry

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*

Fan made Beat Rhino Cake:

Photo: Greetings, Beat Rhino!

When you were a little what did you want to be?

the most average person in the world

*
What are your 3 favorite virtues?

wisdom, kindness and time keeping (i don’t necessarily own these)

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What qualities do you look for in a friend?

i don’t like to think about finding qualities in a friend. there must have been a connection of some sort

*

For what fault do you have most toleration?

i don’t see things as faults, but just characteristics (at least in my mind). I try to see it as what it is, leaving it at a neutral level, not classifying it as a fault or advantage.

*
What is the inspiration behind your beat boxing?

The fact that it has no limits, and my being able to do it anywhere at any given time

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*
When did you begin beat boxing and why?

In freshman year of high school, 2007 because my friends did it.

*
What do you find empowering or moving behind beat boxing?

it can literally move me. “if you can genuinely move yourself with your own beatboxing, you can move other people.” – reeps one. you can make other people dance without any equipment.
its sounds are inevitably more human compared to electronic music, even for a super clean beatboxer. beatboxing feels alive.

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*

Entry  audition for the Grand Beatbox Battle 2013,

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*

What is your most and least favorite  food?

kimchi / polenta

*

What is your most treasured possession?

metronome

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*

What are your favorite places to rehearse?

the stadium, gyms

What is your idea of happiness?

your legs and feet: it’s a mode of transportation, and you already own it (unless your legs are disabled; then your hands)

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*
What is your idea of misery?

a ferrari TR: also a mode of transportation, but (should be) driven by few people. it looks awesome, and appeals to other people, but does the car really have any meaning?

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*

If you could change one thing about your life, what would it be?

that i try harder in life

*

What is your artistic process to learning how to imitate certain sounds?

try to get the exact mechanisms of how that sound works, like do i need to use more tongue or lips?

*
What’s was one of the top two most enjoyable moments as a beat boxer so far?

when professional beatboxers commented on my video

*

What is your next event / what is your schedule of performances and where?

Kenya Sing @ UCI, Feb. 27th
Break LA @ UCLA, Apr. 26th

*

What is your ultimate goal with beat boxing, on a material level (awards and shows ) and on a personal fulfillment level?

1. collaborate with artists that i respect, and gain respect as a musician from both those artists and general public
2. make people smile 🙂

*
What has been your most recent muse?

clams casino / living a healthy life

*
My favorite past times are

1. youtube videos 2. korean tv programs 3. dreaming

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*

Favorite Sound:

snare

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*

Favorite thing in nature:

sloth

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*

One of your favorite movies:

 django

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One of your favorite artist/ photographers?

mark landis

One of your favorite musicians:

kendrick lamar

*

Favorite place or music that inspires you:

the space in front of Coach John Wooden’s statue at UCLA

Favorite smell:

  fresh air

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*

What would you advice to others about pursuing their dreams  and learning to get good at something they are may be weak in?

spend time with concentration

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*

Whose your role model?

eminem

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*

Favorite Motto?

“if you can genuinely move yourself with your own beatboxing, you can move other people.” – reeps one

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Can’t get enough: Beat Rhino’s Sound Cloud, Beat Rhino Facebook, Youtube Beat Rhino , Swis Beat Competion 

Thank you Beat Rhino for the Interview & good luck in Switzerland beatboxing your way to number one.

The List

February 3, 2013

A silly story about a girl, her fixation, a guy and her list.

Flipping through programming trying to erase you from my channel,

There I was, second day straight, hypnotized while living in my flannel.

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With the same feelings of  a 13-year-old, all giggly and dewy eyed.

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When he walked into that room, everything from gravity and life as I knew it, ceased to exist.

And I swear I saw two of him coexist.

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And my whole point of being, was summarized by the life in his luminous eyes.

All it took was one look, and I told myself, “Don’t say anything unwise!”

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I was fixated, forever haunted and entranced by, wait did he bite his lip?

Soft, beckoning and in slow motion, ok he didn’t, get a grip.

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My veins and all body mechanics became employed by my imagination, he had me, jaw dropped & twinkled eyes;

he was the tune, on a permanent rotation.

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Tomorrow was going to be Monday, he’d give me wink and walk by my desk,

And I, I’d pretend I didn’t care, I’d stand there, non-nonchalant and statuesque

Sudden obsession birthed from a childhood spent in boy defiance and aggression,

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Became unmanageable, un-treatable and after two-weeks, no longer could I repress him.

And in reality, his utter lack of attention to me?

Well, it drove me crazy!

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I devised a plan, which consisted of,

do everything and anything you can to get this man!

So here’s my list to secure this mans undying kiss:

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Night before: Practice cat walk and pouting

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And rehears to say something funny and astounding.

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Post notes all over the house, for support

Try on everything in your closet nothing too long, nothing too short!

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Nothing good enough in closet

I must design something, sexy, no, Audrey Hepburn like not hobbit.

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Read,

face mask,

meditation

and when I wake up in the morning,

He will exist more than in my imagination.

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.

Went to sleep and dreamt of him in my bed,

And when I woke up I realized it was all in my head

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Early morning, while brushing teeth, practice the perfect smile.

“Confidence, class, sophistication, it’s not an act, it’s a lifestyle.”

Now, apply red, no pink, no purple, green and glitter!

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Wait isn’t red, the color of someone sexy and clever?!

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dd

Now for something comfortable and not too dramatic.

I hope this little black dress is quiet enough but causes him to panic.

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And will top it off with a sweater with just a small subtle sign;

Little does he know, I spent all night cutting this design.

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No more list, I’m out the door, like a battalion walking tall and suave, on a mission for amor.

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There he is, buttoning his coat,

try to act natural, bury your head in your book and don’t dote!

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Oh my god! He called my name,

Collect yourself!  Now act mysterious and tame.

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“How was your weekend?” he asked.

And like a kid in a candy store I was dumbfounded stuck in trance.

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“Well, ya know, weekends are, so weekend like, ya know.”

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What did I just say, it didn’t make any sense,

and as soon as I tried to get my thoughts together,

my brother grabbed my cheeks and made me look so dense.

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Thinking it was my boyfriend, that’s why he walked away!

And I’m here left alone, with nothing clever to say.

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Ok, must regroup, emergency ‘cool chick’ cigarettes, plan b,

so he can get close and light it up for me.

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But I don’t smoke, so a huge plume of death got caught my throat.

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Bathroom emergency, second regroup, should have made him a chocolate cake, no that could give him a toothache.

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OK a shot of perfume and a little bit of  eye liner,

Must try to act a little daintier and exceptionally refiner.

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Now reapply some color and imagine its him helpful and dapper.

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Ok, act two, there he is,

stand next to him,

and read a book while pretending to be a genius a whiz.

above(image from amazing photographer Darren Roberts collection)

Now sit, and curl a strand of your hair.

Do anything to make him aware.

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Tease and eat with moving lips, but not enough to go to the hips.

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He’s not paying attention!

It’s like I don’t exist,

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Maybe I should just jump his bones and attach my face to his!

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I know!  I’ll blow a bubble,

 he’s the least of my troubles.

Splash, the plan backed up on me,

my face is ridiculed with failed attempts, smudged & sticky!

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Now what I’ve done?! He’s gone and walked away,

And there’s a thousand voices inside of me pleading for him to stay!

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I had so much to say,

but nothing showed up,

I was not eloquent or brave;

only desperate and him, probably fed up.

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Oh well, so much for the day, my feelings & my heart I did not convey.

What’s so great about him anyways?

His smile,

His eyes,

His laugh,

The way he listens to me on my behalf?

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No, he’s just a man,

I don’t like him,

matter of fact, I’m putting him on a mental ban!

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And right when I was going to cry you wouldn’t believe what came before my eyes.

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Flowers in hand he gave to me while whispering in my ear that he wanted only me.

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We sat by the pond, he pulled me in close and pointed to me everywhere in his heart that I had enclosed.

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I just smiled from ear to ear,

For what would I do for love?  Well, what wouldn’t I dare.

Oh! And did I mentioned we kissed!

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_____________________________

THE LIST

Flipping through programming trying to erase you from my channel,

There I was, second day straight, hypnotized while living in my flannel.

With the same feelings of  a 13-year-old, all giggly and dewy eyed.

When he walked into that room, everything from gravity and life as I knew it, ceased to exist.

And I swear I saw two of him coexist.

And my whole point of being, was summarized by the life in his luminous eyes.

All it took was one look, and I told myself, “Don’t say anything unwise!”

I was fixated, forever haunted and entranced by, wait did he bite his lip?

Soft, beckoning and in slow motion, ok he didn’t, get a grip.

My veins and all body mechanics became employed by my imagination, he had me, jaw dropped & twinkled eyes;

he was the tune, on a permanent rotation.

Tomorrow was going to be Monday, he’d give me wink and walk by my desk,

And I, I’d pretend I didn’t care, I’d stand there, non-nonchalant and statuesque

Sudden obsession birthed from a childhood spent in boy defiance and aggression,

Became unmanageable, un-treatable and after two-weeks, no longer could I repress him.

And in reality, his utter lack of attention to me?

Well, it drove me crazy!

I devised a plan, which consisted of,

do everything and anything you can to get this man!

So here’s my list to secure this mans undying kiss:

Night before: Practice cat walk and pouting

And rehears to say something funny and astounding.

Post notes all over the house, for support

Try on everything in your closet nothing too long, nothing too short!

Nothing good enough in closet

I must design something, sexy, no, Audrey Hepburn like not hobbit.

Read,

face mask,

meditation

and when I wake up in the morning,

He will exist more than in my imagination.

Went to sleep and dreamt of him in my bed,

And when I woke up I realized it was all in my head

Early morning, while brushing teeth, practice the perfect smile.

“Confidence, class, sophistication, it’s not an act, it’s a lifestyle.”

Now, apply red, no pink, no purple, green and glitter!

Wait isn’t red, the color of someone sexy and clever?!

Now for something comfortable and not too dramatic.

I hope this little black dress is quiet enough but causes him to panic.

And will top it off with a sweater with just a small subtle sign;

Little does he know, I spent all night cutting this design.

No more list, I’m out the door, like a battalion walking tall and suave, on a mission for amor.

There he is, buttoning his coat,

try to act natural, bury your head in your book and don’t dote!

Oh my god! He called my name,

Collect yourself!  Now act mysterious and tame.

“How was your weekend?” he asked.

And like a kid in a candy store I was dumbfounded stuck in trance.

“Well, ya know, weekends are, so weekend like, ya know.”

What did I just say, it didn’t make any sense,

and as soon as I tried to get my thoughts together,

my brother grabbed my cheeks and made me look so dense.

Thinking it was my boyfriend, that’s why he walked away!

And I’m here left alone, with nothing clever to say.

Ok, must regroup, emergency ‘cool chick’ cigarettes, plan b,

so he can get close and light it up for me.

But I don’t smoke, so a huge plume of death got caught my throat.

Bathroom emergency, second regroup, should have made him a chocolate cake, no that could give him a toothache.

OK a shot of perfume and a little bit of  eye liner,

Must try to act a little daintier and exceptionally refiner.

Now reapply some color and imagine its him helpful and dapper.

Ok, act two, there he is,

stand next to him,

and read a book while pretending to be a genius a whiz.

Now sit, and curl a strand of your hair.

Do anything to make him aware.

Tease and eat with moving lips, but not enough to go to the hips.

He’s not paying attention!

It’s like I don’t exist,

Maybe I should just jump his bones and attach my face to his!

I know!  I’ll blow a bubble,

 he’s the least of my troubles.

Splash, the plan backed up on me,

my face is ridiculed with failed attempts, smudged & sticky!

Now what I’ve done?! He’s gone and walked away,

And there’s a thousand voices inside of me pleading for him to stay!

I had so much to say,

but nothing showed up,

I was not eloquent or brave;

only desperate and him, probably fed up.

Oh well, so much for the day, my feelings & my heart I did not convey.

What’s so great about him anyways?

His smile,

His eyes,

His laugh,

The way he listens to me on my behalf?

No, he’s just a man,

I don’t like him,

matter of fact, I’m putting him on a mental ban!

And right when I was going to cry you wouldn’t believe what came before my eyes.

Flowers in hand he gave to me while whispering in my ear that he wanted only me.

We sat by the pond, he pulled me in close and pointed to me everywhere in his heart that I had enclosed.

I just smiled from ear to ear,

For what would I do for love?  Well, what wouldn’t I dare.

OH and did I mentioned, we kissed!

Spoken Like a True Lady

February 2, 2013

My sister recently sent me an interview done with Dakota Fanning by  Glamour Magazine for this upcoming March, and I must say I was refreshingly surprised!  To hear someone who stands upon such a large stage, maintain such a refined, confident and introspective concept about dating, was, for lack of a better word, cool.

Since (who knows when it began), there have been so many books and films telling us how to bate, catch and date; like the film, ‘Think Like a Lady act Like a Man,’ whose main premise is to give “insight” into the male mind. Maybe instead of incessantly calculating and game playing, dating everyone who bats an eye at us, and treating men or woman as a cliché and stereotype, we’d find more long-term satisfaction in dealing with people on a one-on-one human to human basis.

I realize that there are stereotypes that are true and that for some, reading these books, and watching these films “helps” them navigate the dating world, but I think that all this time people spend dating others should be mostly split with time dating oneself. I’m not suggesting everyone take themselves to a dinner and movie every night (although on occasion not a bad idea), only, that the more you are truly acquainted with yourself, the less you would need to browse the book store to know what types of books you like.  I’m not saying dating is bad, in fact for some, it’s the only way they distinguish between what they want and don’t want.  I just think that less is more, and that in the end, it should really be about the quality of humans that you are selecting in-verse of the quantity. The fact is,  if you get to truly know yourself really well, you won’t have to sift through so many people because you will know what you want when you meet it.

I suppose, in the world of pastries it would be tantamount to knowing that your tongue and tummy prefer to eat a delectable Crème brûlée over a bowl with a potpourri of 100 different types of sweets. While a Crème brûlée does take longer to make then a bunch of cookies, it is well-worth the wait.  Or as my sister says when we are at restaurants deciding on which dessert, “Why am I going to eat a bunch of jello when I know I want Crème brûlée. Even though I’m hungry, I’ll wait for the best desert.”

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Knowing what you want and waiting for it, will lend quicker to a satisfied palate, and perhaps is the best recipe for an everlasting love. The truth is, there’s nothing silly, strange, or naive about a perspective that sits in the belly of knowing who you are,  what you want and waiting for exactly that. I find her answer to be quite temperate and thoughtful in a world that can be so quick, sticky and gluttonous. Perhaps I’ll sum it up with words of Saint Augustine, who said it best with,” Patience is the companion of wisdom”


The following is an excerpt from Glamour Magazine:

Dakota Fanning may be entwined in “The Twilight Saga” franchise, but she has nothing to do with any of the romantic drama that surrounds many of its other stars off-camera. In fact, she doesn’t even date.

“I don’t really date,” the 18-year-old says in the March issue of Glamour.

Wait, what?! What kind of teenager isn’t interested in dating?

“I have a weird vision of relationships because my parents have known each other since second grade, and they got married right out of college,” she explains. “I’ve always thought that’s what it’s supposed to be like, and if it’s not, then I don’t want to waste my time on it. Even when I was 14, I was like, ‘I’m not gonna marry this person. What’s the point of doing it?’ It’s not me being naive. I just know what it’s supposed to be like. And I think until I feel that, I cannot be bothered.”

Ever the surprising young woman, Dakota also credits her 14-year-old sister, Elle, as being an inspiration.

“She’s very uninhibited and will try pretty much anything,” Dakota says. “Even the way she dresses — she dresses totally for herself. She risks being made fun of … by me, which I sometimes do, because I’m an older sister! But I totally admire her and think she’s very cool.”

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May I Present…King Charles

January 30, 2013

“NEVER RUN AWAY FROM YOUR CHILDHOOD IMAGINATION. JUST BECOME MORE EDUCATED WITH IT. IF YOU FIND YOUR GIFT, DON’T BE SCARED TO PURSUE THE POSSIBILITIES. THIS WORLD IS NOT ABOUT TREND & ISOLATION. ITS ABOUT CREATIVITY AND DISCOVERY.”

– King Charles

Ladies and gentlemen, may I present one of the most passionate and revered dancers/ choreographers today.  He has toured as one of Madonnas dancers on her “Sticky & Sweet” World Tour 2008-2009 and his extraordinary musicianship has made him a highly sought out and top choreographer and performer in the world of dance. He is also the founder and leader of local battle clique, Creation (since 2001), All Star Champions of BET’s “Wildin’ Out Wednesdays.” He is also the Artistic Director to The FootworKINGz (FWK), an all-star ensemble featuring Chicago’s top foot-workers.

Foot-working is all about the lower half of your body being stimulated into electrifying movements that work in catching every beat of music.

Founded by Leida “Lady Sol” Villegas in 2007, the professional dance ensemble out of Chicago, FWK has helped in making foot-working famous. Described by the Chicago Tribune as “part tap, African tribal, and breaking,” King Charles explains FWK saying, “This style has been around for over twenty years and we want it to be exposed in the mainstream and all over the world.”

PART TAP!

_______________________________________

 Just as music flowed through the veins of Mozart, it beats in the heart of King Charles, a consummate master of movement and a     galvanizing interpreter of rhythm.

So, without further ado may I present,  a man who no beat escapes the cadence of his feet, Dancer & Choreographer,

King Charles

*

When you were a little what did you want to be?

A RAPPER. THEN, THAT EVOLVED TO A MUSICAL ENTERTAINER.

Do you have a song or musician that moves you to dance the most?

NOT REALLY. I HAVE A LOVE FOR SO MUCH MUSIC THAT ITS HARD TO CHOOSE JUST ONE.

*

What spice does FWK offer to the world of Dance?

FWK OFFERS A NEW UNDERSTANDING OF LOWER BODY COMBINATIONS (RHYTHMICALLY), A NEW UNDERSTANDING OF CULTURE, AND A NEW OPEN DOOR OF FRESH AIR FOR THOSE DANCERS THAT FEEL BORED AND TRAPPED IN A BOX OF REPETITION.

*

What was your driving force behind you founding Battle Clique Creation?

BEFORE I HAD MY OWN CREW, I WAS A MEMBER OF SEVERAL OTHER GROUPS. I LEARNED THE ROPES VERY FAST WITH A HUMBLE ATTITUDE AND AT A YOUNG AGE, I ALREADY HAD THIS FEELING THAT I WOULD DO MORE JUSTICE TO MY COMMUNITY IF I WAS LEADING MY OWN CLIQUE. SO I DID. IT WAS HARD FOR A WHILE IN EVERY WAY BUT, I WAS BLESSED WITH AN ABUNDANCE OF WILL POWER TO KEEP MOVING FORWARD.

*

The video “happy feet’is phenomenal! What inspired the dance moves?

 

Did you put the music on and dance first yourself, do you sit and visualize it first, what’s your process?  WELL, THE MUSIC VIDEO “HAPPY” BY C2C WAS A MAJOR SUCCESS FOR THE WHOLE TEAM. ESPECIALLY THE DIRECTOR “WENDY MORGAN” & PRODUCER “JANNIE MCINNES”. THE MOVES CAME NATURALLY WHEN I WAS ON SET BECAUSE OF THE ENERGY AND PEOPLE WATCHING. THAT’S USUALLY WHAT GUIDES ME TO A PARTICULAR CHOICE OF MOVES FOR THAT MOMENT.

*

What’s was one of the top two most enjoyable times you’ve had in your life as  a dancer?

WOW! “TIME” IS A BIG WORD. UM………… ENTERING ONE OF EUROPE’S BIGGEST STREET DANCE BATTLES IN FRANCE CALLED “JUSTE DEBOUT” 4 YEARS STRAIGHT WITH MY PARTNER “PRINCE JARON”. ITS A 20,000 SEATER PACKED OUT ARENA WITH NOTHING BUT DANCE LOVERS WATCHING ONE PERSON AT A TIME GET DOWN ON THE DANCE FLOOR. (i was the poster child for 2010 Juste Debout and we almost won the whole house dance category part of Juste Debout in 2011) THE OTHER BIG MOMENT HAS TO BE TOURING WITH “MADONNA” FOR ALMOST 2 YEARS WITH PRINCE JARON. IT CHANGED MY LIFE.

 What’s the latest project you are working on?

WELL, I JUST FINISHED A PROJECT WITH “PUMA” THAT WILL BE OUT SOON. BUT, I GUESS YOU CAN SAY THAT IM ALWAYS ON THE MOVE, STICKING MY FOOT IN THE DOORS OF MANY OPPORTUNITIES. LOL

*

 What do you think of the state of music and dance today vs  the past ? ( Is it more appreciated or unappreciated. more or less innovative?)

ITS SAD TO SAY BUT, THERE’S LESS GOOD MUSIC IN THIS GENERATION & AND LESS PEOPLE THAT CARE ABOUT THE DETAILS. I WAS BORN IN 86 SO, I GREW UP APPRECIATING THE 90’s MUSIC. PLUS, MY FATHER (Charles Parks the 3rd) IS A JAZZ/FUNK MUSICIAN. SO, I WAS FORCED TO HAVE A GOOD EAR FOR WHATS GOING ON IN A TRACK AND A KNOWLEDGE FOR THE HISTORY. A LOT OF ARTIST ARE TREND FOLLOWERS, NOT TREND SETTERS, & SINCE THE TREND NOW-A-DAYS IS SIMPLE & SOULLESS, 90% OF THE AMERICAN MUSIC INDUSTRY FOLLOWS THAT. BUT I CAN GO ON AND ON ABOUT THAT TOPIC……NEXT QUESTION.

*

Do you enjoy choreographing as much as dancing or one more than the other?

I ENJOY EVERYTHING THAT DANCE HAS TO OFFER. FROM LEARNING NEW THINGS TO FREESTYLES TO TEACHING, PERFORMING & CHOREOGRAPHING. ITS ALL A PIECE OF THE DANCE PUZZLE. I BELIEVE THAT EVERY DANCER SHOULD TRY IT ALL. TO FEEL THE FULL BLESSING OF DANCE. (But, in a orderly fashion.)

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*

When did you realize/feel, “you made it”?

WITH MADONNA….. THE FIRST OVERSEAS COUNTRY I WENT TO WAS, PARIS. I CRIED LIKE A BABY! HAHA! I WALKED AROUND OLD DOWNTOWN PARIS LISTENING TO LENNY KRAVITZ “FLY AWAY” ON REPEAT. THEN THE NEXT NIGHT, MADONNA  MADE US GO OUT TO ONE OF HER FRIENDS HOUSES AND IT ENDED UP BEING LENNY KRAVITZ HOME!!!! I DONT BELIEVE IN COINCIDENCE SO, THAT’S WHEN I KNEW I MADE IT TO HIGHER STAGE IN MY LIFE.

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*

What has been your most recent muse?

HMMM….. LOOKING BACK AT 11 YRS OF HARD WORK & KNOWING THAT I HAVE   A LOT MORE WORK TO DO. BUT, IM ALWAYS UP FOR THE ADVENTURE.

*

Could you describe what it was like touring w/ Madonna? Did it hit you as surreal once you hit the stage and saw the crowd?

IT WAS ALWAYS A RUSH! 100,000 FANS SCREAMING, CRYING, WAVING. SOME FANS WERE SO FAR AWAY THAT, WHEN THEY CLAPPED HANDS, IT WAS ALWAYS OFF BEAT BECAUSE IT TOOK A EXTRA SECOND FOR THE SOUND TO GET TO THEM. IT WAS REAL EMOTIONAL ROLLER COASTER.

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*

My favorite past times are :

1.GOING TO JERUSALEM  2. LEARNING DIFFERENT LANGUAGES-  3.SHOWING MY FELLOW DANCER ON THE TOUR, THAT IF THEY NEEDED ME, I WAS THERE.

*

Favorite word:

CRAZY

Favorite thing in nature:

ANIMALS

*

One of your favorite movies:

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THE MATRIX 1,2 & 3 & SOUL POWER

*

One of your favorite Modern Dance films:

TAKE FLIGHT (by the FootworKINGz) Old dance films BREAKIN’

*

One of your favorite dancers Modern and old?

PAUSE EDDIE (FWKZ) & BRIAN FOOTWORK GREEN (LEGEND)

PAUSE EDDIE (above)

and

 BRIAN FOOTWORK GREEN

One of your favorite musicians:

MY FATHER

Favorite smell:

SWEET PERFUME

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Favorite quote:

THE SKY IS “NOT” THE LIMIT. THE LIMIT IS WHAT YOU MAKE IT.

*

Favorite sound:

MUSIC

*

Was there a time you felt like you were not going to be able to make a living off of being a dancer?

NO, BECAUSE ONCE CREATION WON THE ALL STAR COMPETITION ON “BET” 2006, MY PURPOSE BECAME CLEAR.

*

What would you advice to others about pursuing their dreams based upon how you were able to manifest yours.

GOD 1ST………NEVER RUN AWAY FROM YOUR CHILDHOOD IMAGINATION. JUST BECOME MORE EDUCATED WITH IT. IF YOU FIND YOUR GIFT, DON’T BE SCARED TO PURSUE THE POSSIBILITIES. THIS WORLD IS NOT ABOUT TREND & ISOLATION. ITS ABOUT CREATIVITY AND DISCOVERY.

*

What are three values you hold dear to you?

MY LORD AND SAVIOR, MY MUSICALITY AND MY FAMILY.

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*

You’ll never catch me :

SMOKIN’

*

Who/What inspires or moves you?

MY ROUGH PAST.

*

Works – Past & Present:

Here’s another video (only freestyle) that i put together. The purpose of this video was self expression from different styles. Very simple.

 

  Self Expression Freestyle #02 – FootworKINGz + Lady Boogaloos + StylzPlay // Freestyle Culture TV

(Aids walk 2007)

*

One (out of the many) ways I’m going to change the world is:

LEAVING PEOPLE WITH POSITIVE THOUGHTS. NOT NEGATIVE

Can’t Get Enough>Web Links: ENJOY FWK MAIN WEBSITE – ‘LIKE’  FWK Facebook  -Twit FWK – READ  BLOG

Come rain or come shine, wherever King goes he leaves his dance print.

Thank you King Charles, for the interview and for dancing on our hearts.

THANK YOU!

January 27, 2013

30,000 Readers! Well, hellllooo there!

 

I just want to extend a Thank You to everyone who reads my blog, comments, likes or just passes by my pages. My goal is to inspire, move and to flush great feelings through the hearts of anyone I come across, and if at any point, I’m able to touch a spec of your life, even though I don’t know you, I’m really grateful and happy for that. So thank you, for letting me in, even if it’s just for a second!

For more please LIKE on Facebook. Oh! and tell your friends! :

LoVs’n’Mua

Or, although I”m rarely there,  Twit a thought

LoVsnmua TWIT

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On the way home, in the midst of his evening bustle

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His hand griped at the lament buried inside his hearts muscle

hand on heart

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Wilted and torn he took off his blues and remained in the dress for which he was born.

Pondering in the stillness of feeling lost and lovelorn.

“Lovers”      “ Orpheus’ Sorrow  (1876)  ”  by  Pascal Adolphe Jean Dagnan-BouveretThanks to Laberintosyquimeras  for posting this wonderful image

Like a gold fish witnessing the sea while concealed in a transparent cage,

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He never quite felt he fit in his world.

Always yearning, waiting, transfixed on clock hands, tic tocked and twirled.

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Meanwhile, wedged inside his genius was the menacing feeling of a half-filled cup.

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For when he was little; he knew he was meant to be big.

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So, wishing by the sea & moon, he sat on a nest of twigs

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Transient figures, like neon signs burned between the dark sky’s

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Reflecting each tear in his dreaming, uneasy eyes.

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With tremulous cords and vacuous hands he let go and dove in.

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Splashed beneath the film of water, cutting the deep horizons, were two feline eyes with petrified black feathered lashes.

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Unable to look away, he felt the warmth of his veins cooled by her pale as corpse hand

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In hypnotic awe he studied her lips, shaped with the figure of the crescent moon

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And her blythe batting lids, concealing double helix eyes, they compressed and released to the drum of his heart.

Dazed with curiosity, he allowed her lips to expand his chest & surrendered, they swam.

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They past childhood sand-castles, faint, white dried roses, tiered Polaroids and running crayons.

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Intrigued but perplexed nonetheless, till his eyes set upon Cherub Caliel, crying and withdrawn.

And as he approached extended hand and comfort unfolded, the cherub quickly turned and said,

“Awake ye now and rid thyself of death and dolefulness, that I can feel heavy upon thy heart”

Bewildered he looked for the siren that led him, but fled she had, and stuck he was.

Turned back, and before his eyes, the cherub decomposed into a plume of red & green dust.

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Swallowed by smoke, swollen iris and startled heart he screamed, “I want out!”

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Treading and manic, he began to run out of air when the siren re-appeared,

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She quipped,”You mustn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger my darling.”

He screamed “I need air!”

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Appearing to rescue but merely passing by, an octopus flushed in red, said, “So wake up.”

As he began to swim up, panicked, he found his feet tethered to the ground.

The sea became more turbulent and a tiger vehement in speech said, “So wake up!”

As he struggled he suddenly found he was not a captive of the ocean but enslaved inside his own tub.

And a final vision of the Siren appeared whispering, “When you desire happiness as you have just desired air, then you will have it.”

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Like an arrow to heart, her words struck him,

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And not all too sudden, his muscle embraced silence and thoughts vanished as  the bones in his back gallantly began an unraveling procession fixed on rapturous expansion.

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Freedom became he, as he floated, tenderly, above the sea,

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And the water slowly crept from chin to eyes, releasing him from self-demise.

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The next morning as he awoke, he found his back draped in wings and his heart cloaked in red

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And from his cage, he did not wonder nor did he wait, he stretched out his limbs & became a man, transcendent and magnate.

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Trapped Utopia & Unfettered Wings

By: Magnolia

On the way home, in the midst of his evening bustle,

His hand griped at the lament buried inside his hearts muscle.

Wilted and torn he took off his blues and remained in the dress for which he was born.

Pondering in the stillness of feeling lost and lovelorn,

Like a gold fish witnessing the sea while concealed in a transparent cage,

He never quite felt he fit in his world.

Always yearning, waiting, transfixed on clock hands, tic tocked and twirled.

Meanwhile, wedged inside his genius, was the menacing feeling of a half-filled cup.

For when he was little; he knew he was meant to be big.

So, wishing by the sea & moon, he sat on a nest of twigs.

Transient figures, like neon signs burned between the dark sky’s

Reflecting each tear in his dreaming, uneasy eyes.

So, with tremulous cords and vacuous hands he let go and dove in.

Splashed beneath the film of water, cutting the deep horizons, were two feline eyes with petrified black feathered lashes.

In hypnotic awe he studied her lips, shaped with the figure of the crescent moon

And her blythe batting lids, concealing double helix eyes, they compressed and released to the drum of his heart.

Unable to look away, he felt the warmth of his veins cooled by her pale as corpse hand.

Dazed with curiosity, he allowed her lips to expand his chest & surrendered they swam.

 They past childhood sand-castles, faint, white dried roses, tiered Polaroids and running crayons.

Intrigued but perplexed nonetheless, till his eyes set upon Cherub Caliel, crying and withdrawn.

And as he approached extended hand and comfort unfolded, the cherub whispered,

“Awake ye now and rid thyself of death and dolefulness, that I feel heavy upon thy living”

Bewildered he looked for the siren that led him, but fled she had, and stuck he was.

Turned back, and before his eyes, the cherub decomposed into a plume of red & green dust.

Swallowed by smoke, swollen iris and startled heart he screamed, “I want out!”

Treading and manic,l he began to run out of air when the Siren re-appeared,

She quipped,”You mustn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger my darling.”

He screamed “I need air!”

Appearing to rescue but merely passing by, an octopus flushed in red, said, “So wake up.”

As he began to swim up, panicked he found his feet tethered to the ground.

The sea became more turbulent and a tiger vehement with speech said, “So wake up!”

As he struggled he suddenly found he was not a captive of the ocean but enslaved inside his own tub.

And a final vision of the Siren appeared whispering, “When you desire happiness as you have just desired air, then you will have it”.

Like an arrow to heart, her words struck him,

And not all too sudden, his muscle embraced silence and thoughts vanished as  the bones in his back gallantly began an unraveling procession fixed on rapturous expansion.

Freedom became he, as he floated, tenderly, above the sea,

And the water slowly crept from chin to eyes, releasing him from self-demise.

The next morning as he awoke, he found his back draped in wings and his heart cloaked in red

And from his cage, he did not wonder nor did he wait, he stretched out his limbs and became a man, transcendent and magnate.

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The Waltz

January 23, 2013

 

By:  Magnolia

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 I am the soil        And I the tree

 Together embraced, closely.

I am the wind      And I the leaves

Together we float careless and free.

I am the heart     And I the beat

Together we move quiet and discreet.

I am the pencil      And I the paper

Together we scribble the answer.

I am the bones     And I the skin

Together we build cover, beginning to end.

I am the door      And I  the knob

Together we absorb every throb.

I am the path     And I the water

Together we travel, paving next chapters

I’m the composer   And I the composition

Together creating melodies that grow and glisten.

I am the paint          And I your canvas

Together splashed and blended into the infinite planned for us.

I am the body    And I your bends

Together till the very end.

So when your color fades

and lines surround your eyes,

My lips will seal your heart with first loves reprise.

And when you are tiered,

I will be your awake

Forever in a waltz through love and heartache.

The breath to your lips, the sound to your silence,

The view to your window and the X to your spot;

We are but four eyes and one vision,

Percolated poetry, bound for eternity.

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Lovers under African Sky

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I want to be knotted inside the braided vines of your heart.

Far away, inside the slowly moving wings of your relaxed beat,

Softly blowing between the clouds of your most intimate thoughts,

Is where I want my soul to rest.

And every morning awake to freshly squeezed strawberries dripping between the smiles of your fingers,

And to the bliss of your words dipped in honey, sliding off the sides of your tongue;

While being wrapped inside the rising warmth of your hungry skin,

Is where I want my soul to rest.

Late nights and flickering fires bleeding of clenched wax and heated thirst.

Cracked hearts, traveling hands, painted toes and arched necks, genuflecting behind exposed linen and closed curtains.

The whispers of wind between the window seal, the grazing of rose pedals against welcoming bones,

Is where I want my soul to rest.

Evaporated through the lips of pleased desires and stones muzzled in squeezed silence,

Through swaying emotions and tilted waters trapped in waltz;

And mixed between our minds, sweet cream and peppered dreams,

Is where I want my soul to rest.

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Evaporated through the lips of pleased desires and stones muzzled in squeezed silenced

lips

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droplets together

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dewdrops straight

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 the grazing of rose pedals against welcoming bones

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Late nights and flickering fires bleeding of clenched wax and heated thirst

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sweet cream and peppered dreams

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a Tumblr_mgwethjgok1rk4ovao1_500_largeAnd to the bliss of your words dipped in honey sliding off the sides of your tongue;

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little dew drops

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And every morning awake to freshly squeezed strawberries dripping between the smiles of your fingers,

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Through swaying emotions and tilted waters  tilted waters trapped in waltz;

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The whispers of wind between the window seal,

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Is where I want my soul to rest.

                       

Ladies and gentlemen, may I present one of the most innovative and prestigious designers in the fashion industry today. Born on September 27th in Solo, Indonesia, Sapto studied fashion design & pattern making at L’Ecole Superieure des Art et Technique de la Mode, the first fashion school established in France. He also attended the International Fashion University in Indonesia, Esmond Jakarta.  His fashion designs boldly fuse surrealism and his cultural influences, creating sophisticated yet fiercely imaginative pieces. The beauty in Sapto’s fashion design brand, launched in 2007, is rooted in his artistic eye and passion to create illustrious designs that stand the test of time.

In 2009 Sapto, launched his highly acclaimed Ready-to-Wear Couture Fashion collection and in 2011 the Elle Style Award named him “Fashion Designer of the Year.” This past 2012 was a prequel of all the great things that are to come for Sapto this year  starting with an exclusive fashion spread of Sang Randeng Girah collection in dewi’s January issue; celebrities red carpet & event appearances in the designer’s dresses as well as a spread in Elle Indonesia December 2012 and an article in Marie Claire Indonesia October 2012. His latest Spring/ Summer 2013 designs are inspired by the Vatsu Vidya and were presented  at the Dewi Fashion Knights 2012 in Indonesia. His collections encompass ready-to-wear, haute couture, and bridal wear.

So, without further ado may I present, a look into the mind of fashion’s surrealistically bold designer, Sapto Djojokartiko

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Q & A
When you were  little what did you want to be?

A Lawyer

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What’s your favorite piece you’ve made?

A Dress

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What motivated you to fuse art and fashion to create some textured and creative designs?

To elabore the inspiration

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What is the longest you’ve spent on a project?

A year, when I create a flysioner collection on 2010 

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What art piece was the most fun to work on?

The shoe collection for the 2011-2012 couture collection

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What’s the latest project you are working on?

Ready to wear collection spring/summer 2013 

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What inspires you or initiates the inspiration that drives you?

Heritage 

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Do you have a process?   

Yes, example, watching traditional performing arts

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What has been your most recent muse?

Cate Blanchett

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My favorite accomplishments:

1. When i realized that i want to a designer 2. When i started the study in fashion 3. When i had my own brand

Favorite word:

 Twist

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Favorite thing in nature:

Cloudy sky

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One of your favorite fashion designers:

Cristobal Balenciaga

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One of your favorite books:

Bible

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One of your favorite artist:

Gustav Klimit

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One of  your movies:

The Prestige

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One of your favorite musicians:

 Chris Martin

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Favorite place to design:

Bedroom

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Favorite smell:

 Wood and Leather

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Favorite sound:

Violin

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Was there a time you felt like you were not going to be able to make a living off of being an designer?

No 

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What would you advice to others about pursuing their dreams based upon how you were able to manifest yours.

Consistency on what you doing

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 Favorite thing in nature:

Cloudy sky and antler

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Who/What inspires or moves you?

My culture,my heritage

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What’s one of your favorite quotes?

 Life is about choices

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“Spring/Summer 2013  collection inspired by Vastu Vidya, an architectural foundation and outline with the philospohy that architecture is not just any architecture but it is created to give linear alignment to all aspects of life. The collection were detailed with beading and cut out details that are influenced by the relief, texture and sculpture commonly found on dwelling created with the Vastu Vidya belief.”

Courtesy of Sapto Djojokartiko

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For More: Spring/Summer 2013  collection inspired by Vastu Vidya

Spring/Summer 2013 collection on Dewi Magazine January 2013.

Dewi magazine January 2013
Photographer: Davy Linggar.
Stylist: Aldi Indrajaya
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Kate Talanova in Sapto Djojokartiko by Nicoline Patricia Malina for Le Mariage Indonesia.

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Sapto Djojokartiko Ready to Wear 2012-2013 gold beads and sequins necklaces and belts.

Can’t Get Enough>Web Links: ENJOY SD MAIN WEBSITE – ‘LIKE’  SD Facebook – JOIN SD TWITTER – READ  SD BLOG

Thank you Sapto for the interview & for adding a VA Va Voomm to the Fashion World.

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God you should have seen Isis, hemorrhaging with ambition while smiling in the harshest of heat.

She stood in the belly of that crowd, raised her arm in the air & matched her heart to the beat.

And suddenly every patron in the city, believers &  doubters, rose quickly to their feet.

Their fists pounding against the rhythm of  the wind; boom, boom, boom, boom!

Kinetic electricity surged from every cavity & splashed through every layer in the room.

Head high and shoulders back, she gave the deuces to anyone who didn’t think she had the knack.

Once the souls that questioned her are now asking for her signature.

Although in the dark & blind to the masses, she doubted nothing while lighting her own torches.

Bearing the brunt of naysayers & pile driving while supplying her own transfusions,

Every night she closed her eyes and challenged the dark with esoteric allusions.

She was a woman, but didn’t need to prove it.

Her ears had swallowed  broken glass and her knees felt the itch of mud and laughing grass.

And while it was in style to sport the scent of gin and sex,

She didn’t bother, she was a self-accepted reject.

All the while undeserving, with gut and grit, she pushed Sisyphus rock up and made it stick.

Her razor tongue savored the water of Tantalus and of others opinions, she could care less.

Unapologetic & foolhardy with determination, she fashions her lips with bona fied narration.

But when the crowd has dissipated she sits alone, contemplative.

And although she is silent in her tears, she paints only what she wants herself to mirror.

Saying nothing, she curls her fingers around the heart of the moon

She squeezes it in hopes of growing more immune.

A goddess, a rebel, a lady of ten thousand names, she breaths to the beat of her own drum, she is a consummate dame.