You imagine an intricate tale of romantic youth,
Star-crossed excitement, whilst your peers are stunned,
Lapping up each and every stolen moment of bliss,
Swaying and stumbling to the blood-red beat,
Nothing seems to matter, although
It really, really does.
Whoredom and artistry will no longer take place,
Ideological clouds are forming,
But they don’t dissipate from rain,
Momentum is building; the concrete buildings can feel it,
The night is an odyssey, although
For some it is less epic.
Memory deceives those who fought for themselves,
But the truth will persist in those who thought and withheld,
Wine stained lips, drunk on the blood of The Other,
Their money, their power, but never their brother.
The rebel and the girl with no sense of decorum,
Out of control, dangerous, but never suffering from boredom.
Take a bow modern man, and empathise without fear,
Because underneath it all you yearn for a day in the life, a taste of the year,
When everything changed and life was real,
Not rehashed, and regurgitated, and already peeled,
Nineteen, Thirty-Nine; which juncture will you choose,
To mark your make, or let it hang loose.
A city can re-emerge from rubble and wreck, although
A person cannot.
Fluorescent beams of light bounced across the Danube and melted into the cliff face. The Citadel shone like a fire lantern atop of Gellert ‘hill’, oozing brilliance as if a bolt of ancient lightning had lit its fuse many years ago and refused to go out.
#traveltuesday #hungary #budapest #scammed
Compare an atom with an orange,
Consider a river of cargo,
Suspend a thimble in your thoughts,
Eat a mouse's sugary tail,
Lose the last digit,
Absolve your feathery anxieties,
Sharpen the leopard's skin,
The cracking of a quail egg,
Re-route magnetic fields,
Lost in mace,
Decipher your hoof,
Crackling cider and the river Mersey,
Glaring lily pads threaten,
Acne, TNT and a red shed,
Spiralling mutilated beetle legs,
Memory, rust, lantern,
Listless onion purée,
At 11:20 AM on Friday 29th April 2011, the Archbishop of Canterbury pronounced Prince William and Catherine Middleton man and wife. It was a magnificent moment; not just for the monarchy, but for the entire nation and dare I suggest it, the rest of the world too. The wonderful union between these two most gracious young lovers represents a coalition between the monarchy and the general public. And as I finished a pint of Skinner’s ‘Kate Loves Willy’ Ale, I truly felt a speck of regality emanate through my body. I was proud.
Millions of people swarmed around the palace gates like wasps around a juicy looking ice-lolly in the sun. Some particularly patriotic commoners gathered in their small communities, sporting union jack flags and Will and Kate masks, they pitched their tents several days before the ceremony took place in a gallant effort to ensure a prime view of the event. These earnest royal subjects will undoubtedly pass down the story of how they procured the most intimate view of the royal kiss for generations to come. Their grandchildren and great-grandchildren will take enormous delight in knowing that somebody in their family once saw Prince William’s lips touch Princess Kate’s from the tender distance of 50 metres.
‘Isn’t it a magnificent sight,’ Huw Edward reported for the BBC, as Prince William sat next to Princess Kate on the luxurious State Landau during the royal procession. The lavish carriage was pulled along by four thoroughbred stallions, and in its pure grandness, eclipsed even the magical carriage that Cinderella’s fairy Godmother made for her from a rotten pumpkin.
Given the weight of the situation one would be forgiven for letting the pressure affect his charm, but the Prince was on top form, quoted by The Guardian and backed up by professional lip-reader Tina Lannin, as telling his newly-wed wife ‘You look beautiful’. So articulate, so concise and so original—majestic lines such as this are what separate the royals from the likes of me, you, and the general public. We can only thank journalists and members of the media conglomerations for bringing us little snippets of captivating insight into the lives of our superiors, with such cutting urgency and punctuality.
The transformation from commoner to regality for Kate Middleton was complimented by an amazing piece of couture: an ivory-white satin silk gown, created by Sarah Burton, Head Designer at the House of Alexander McQueen. A confidentiality agreement had been signed that kept the dress as secretive as the princess was formerly chaste. So, when the dress was finally unveiled to the world as she stepped out of the royal Rolls Royce, it was no surprise to hear a BBC fashion expert let out a high-pitched shriek of ‘YAY,’ echoing profoundly the exuberance of a whole nation looking on at the dress with glee.
The jubilation and goodwill was not confined to the Great British Isles exclusively, the event received worldwide publication and quite rightly monopolised the cable and terrestrial networks in the United States. There was even a makeshift ‘street’ party held in the Helmand province of Afghanistan by the proud British troops. The Afghani affair featured flags, music, cake and a brilliantly formed life-sized cardboard cut-out of the Royal couple themselves. ‘It was a wonderful day, Kate looked beautiful and we had been so looking forward to seeing her dress,’ commented Captain Clare Brooks who usually spends her time inspecting packages and scouring the landscape for improvised explosive devices.
The spectacle of the event surpassed all other distractions. Street parties brought people together. Labour and Tory politicians shared cups of tea from the same Will and Kate ceramic teapots; students taught local residents how to skateboard; terminally ill patients nodded their heads and smiled with a long lost twinkle in their eyes; everybody was happy that the British monarchy was succeeding.
‘With all the bad things in the world at the moment, it’s nice to come together, forget about them, have fun and just be British.’ The sentiments of a conscientious citizen revelling in the achievement of a wealthy heir to the throne finding himself a beautiful woman to marry on the 66th anniversary of Adolf Hitler’s marriage to Eva Braun.
Of course there will always be some blasphemous spoilsports who refuse to acknowledge the true value of the monarchy; labelling them as fetishized puppets of public affection, tax-dodging time-wasters, or archaic throwbacks to our shameful past of slavery, sexual discrimination and colonial exploitation. Some sacrilegious dissidents will always make grandiloquent claims, such as the holy matrimony is a ‘Wedding of Mass Distraction’ or that the money should be spent on education, the NHS or welfare rather than a jumped-up media celebration of an antiquated oligarchy.
These bitter invectives – and a desecrating offer made by Vivid Entertainment’s Steve Hirsch, for Kate’s exquisite sister Pippa to feature in a pornographic film for $5 million – aside the royal wedding was a tremendous success.
The beautiful occasion re-united the loving public with a unique historical figure of majesty and allowed a society that was growing progressively aware of current affairs and critical of its own foreign policy, to take a much-deserved day off and forget about the many evils of this world.
APATHY RATING: ***/ ***
- Freelance WriterTravel Writer & Currency Analyst, 2012 - present
- University College FalmouthEnglish with Creative Writing, 2008 - 2011
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Samuel Allen email: email@example.com Samuel has a degree in Marine Engineering but has worked in the financial sector
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