i lean on the mirror

and it crumbles

under my weight:

it's been

a crutch for far too long,

a fragile justification

for a hatred that based in an evil

far deeper than my flesh.

i can no longer

pick up its pieces

and cradle them in my hands

peering desperately into their edges

looking for an excuse.

i can no longer

mimic its cracks

on my own flesh,

trying to find

what makes it so irreplaceable

so i can achieve its permanence.

the windows long ago cracked

and let in the outside air.

i gave up

on trying to hide from the weather.

the plates

long ago shattered,

i gave up

on trying to keep them empty,

leaving them in their shelves to collect dust.

the crystal cups

shattered,

they were so used to being half-empty

that they couldn't handle being half full.

the chandelier

has shed its jewels

and laid bare

upon the wooden floors:

it is no longer

the center of attention

and it sighs in relief,

being freed from its own expectation.

i broke

the screen on my phone

after i dropped

my dependence on its glow.

but the mirror

is always the last pane of glass to break.

it trapped me in a prison of flesh

that didn't match my brain.

every time i raised my fist to smash it

my own hand blocked it from passing through.

i was my own nemesis

and in order to defeat me

i had to let myself

win.

you exist as a moment between milliseconds

the record scratch of time as the world around you freezes

you are a million imperceptible moments

a pane of glass right before it shatters

the desperate attempts for reproduction in the life cycle of a dragonfly

you are the gust of wind that knocks out a single leaf on an oak tree in a stranger's backyard

the gut feeling in my stomach as I choose to cross the street

you are a yellow traffic light, so close to red that some might call it orange

a still expanse of water in front of a child learning how to skip rocks

you are a timer hitting zero before it dings

you are my every in-between

my gasp of air

my uncounted seconds

my everything

dear Chuck, the chuckmeister, triple C, or chuurls. first i want to congratulate you on your coronation. it happens only once in a generation (or three, with your mum) that a collective effort by an entire nation results in a room-temperature liquid to fall upon the top of a single person. even the Japanese cant achieve that, and that's saying something. do be bashful about it either. every part of that festival was yours and you owned it. i mean, people watched it throughout the world!!!

now, you must be a bit upset that i called you a userper straight out the gate, when you did nothing wrong to me.

well, as it happens you are the last remenant of an empire of mass oppression and murder that used to stretch from one side of the planet to the other. indeed the sun never set upon Some territory that was conquered in the name of your wonderful ancestors, with the sole purpose of providing you and your immediate circle with gold and tea. and yes, you said sorry about it more than once. you may have shed a tear here or there, but that gold is still in the bank, and isn't going to move. is it, Chucky?

as for the house of Stewart, which your house replaced, they may still hold to a claim to being the userper in charge. i think its going to be funny as fuck, if the national Scottish movement invites whoesever left and ask them to take over. see how you handle loosing the summer castle up there, and getting shitty whisky.

as for your family, you did a fine job raising those two kids on your own. it shows how much love there is, when the coronation was set on the same date as your grandson. way to go stealing a 4 year old's thunder. but its ok, he'll forget it before long. no way that his daddy won't remind him that YOU didn't think to pull in some favors and having to change the date to the next weekend.

yes, a fine harmonious family, not since the Plantagenets did we see such sibling love. must have been that homeschooling you gave them.

as for things you can do going forward, the ski is the limit. i mean it sincerely, you can go skiing. it's a good exercise, and something that rich fuckers like you seem to be able to afford. better hurry though, cause the snow is melting. as a king you have no real power, but you can at least cut back on your household emmisions, by not flying everwhere, where you then travel in limousine convoys. take the subway, i hear its pretty good in London.

another thing you can do to save some trees, is to absolutely forbid the recalling of billions of pounds out circulation and reprinting new notes, just because the old ones have your dear mommy's oictures and not yours, Chuckles. show some respect for the old lady , even if you had some issues with her. if only for the sake of the trees.

jobs are a concern to many today. AI is taking over jobs and threatening others, and while you personally can claim that you are irreplaceable(literally) , there are so many who are. did you do anything, besides ribbon cutting, to help anyone? is the extent of your support to the lower and middle class, the number of jobs involved in keeping the house of windsor running? are you even an above par employer? but hey, these are just people you nominally preside over, Madge.

now, you may say to me, "now look here" (i assume thats how people like you begin a dressing down) "why am i supposed to be the one that holds the answers to all the problems and ailments of british society?

the answer to that derives from my assumption that you're the king, and as such enjoy through heredity a vast intelligence, broader than any other's, and by the fact that you accepted the responsibility of a post, that as it is founded on medieval concepts and laws which are still in place, you should know how to handle all these things, easy peasie. were you to be proven unable to provide guidance, intelligence, or rulership then you would be proven to be a userper.

but look, i know how it is, you had tough life, man, and i am sorry to be coming on strong like this. you grew up in a tough environment, and you led an exemplary life so far. exemplary.

you kept your nose clean, you said no to drugs, you graduated despite the gangs, and the bullying, you tried to provide a good, honest home for your kids and above else you kept it real. if there is one thing we can say about you is that you ain't no hypocrite. you roll with the punches and move on.

and so i can and should gice you respect.

so here it is. get one of your fellas to get it.

yoink.

When sparring

monastically

with the

Buddhist

pluck of

an

Esther

Flowers1

it is essential

to put on

your best

laced gloves

and put out

your finest

moon-lit

porcelain mug

and cup for

It's T time

and we'll be

sipping from

well aged leaves

and shadows

turning pages

on bookmarked

memories,

He or She

authored

across

the human

Philosophies

a treasure trove

so mad hatter'd

in wisdom and

skepticism

as to only

pass

throught

eyelets

most intricate

of embroidery

nonesuch as

paralleled to

the crown

of our own one

Ninja Gardenia!

Coronation edition #18 superior ninja flower challenge @batmaninwuhan

In moments of despair, when darkness casts its pall,

When woes entangle me, and sadness seems to sprawl,

A symphony emerges, a soothing balm it brings,

The magic of melodies, with ethereal wings.

When unwell, in distress, ailing deep within,

Songs embrace my spirit, their healing touch akin,

They caress my weary soul, dispelling all the ache,

Transforming pain to solace, my spirit they awake.

When anger's fiery flames engulf my troubled mind,

Songs ignite a gentleness, leaving wrath behind,

They whisper tender verses, calm the raging sea,

Transcending turbid thoughts, setting my heart free.

When complex decisions weigh upon my burdened chest,

Songs unveil clarity, in their rhythm I find rest,

Guiding me with their wisdom, a chorus of insight,

Unlocking paths untrodden, leading me to the light.

And when concentration wanes, distractions fill the air,

Songs weave a web of focus, their melody so rare,

They harmonize my thoughts, aligning them in tune,

Inspiring boundless creativity, like an enchanted moon.

Oh, the beauty of songs, their sweetness unconfined,

A tapestry of emotions, in melodies entwined,

They lift my spirit higher, with every note they play,

Granting solace and enchantment, throughout my weary day.

So let the songs resound, their magic to impart,

A symphony of solace, to heal the wounded heart,

For in their gorgeousness, their allure so profound,

Songs bring a timeless solace, forever to astound.