Armani Model

By Delbert H. Rhodes

giorgioarmaniimageShe walks along the runway and I watch her, her hair flowing and perfectly prepared. Each fiber combed and caressed by the architects of style. Gleaming, her lustrous hair radiantly dazzles the eyes, her lips purse with touches of red, beige, or black. Ten rainbows embrace her hands displaying splendid coloration. The colors tease illuminating sexually.

The room becomes warmer. The jewels kissing her finger round neck are fragile tasteful and wanton. The pearls they bare speak of deep seas and deeper mysteries. Her smiles tenderly ask, “Am I affecting you. Are you awed?” I think, yes. I watch her as she moves with technique and the industry’s grace.

She is confident and I am curious. I wonder why it has to be that way. I wonder why she must appear so gaunt. I ask me questions without solid answers. Maybe, I think, I should enjoy the show and surrender to the process. After all, they are the experts and who am I?

Seductively, the human mask the thriving mannequin captivates me. Look there in the window, she moves. Although emaciated she is beautiful and I think I adore her. Oh, yes, she is pretty. Then she pivots, waits, smiles, and then looks at me. Does she truly see me? Truly? She opens the garment displaying its inner skins. I think the material is fabulous simply lovely –Fine, Pure, Expensive.

The Armani model thin and rail like a tree’s limb. The limb reaching branching out, the broken limb about to fall, and the limb lying on the ground-a twig I toss into the hearth to warm the fire. Her gait is artificial the leg lift robotic. The knees seem as though lifted by tight string, the feet heavily rise, and then fall to the floor like the hooves of horses. Yes, she walks like a horse. I wait to hear the whinny, but instead she pauses.

She smiles and then spins returning down the runway–Clop, Clop, Clop. Her garment trails to music of tiny cross threads, the sleek fabric mindful of water trickling over skeletal stones. I envision an Ice Cream Cone straining beneath its milky flesh. The cone and fingers quickly covered by sticky droplets, a lusting tongue consumed by pleasure.

The woman captivates me. She is Syren singing to lure men, Aphrodite whose beauty (even) the gods envy, and then Medusa her hypnotic stare a beacon of destruction. The woman is impressive and whatever her flavor, I think, ‘Delicious.’

Copyright © 2006 Delbert H. Rhodes

Un-Wrapping the Words

Menu Grammar Check

By Delbert H. Rhodes

Flowing upon the page words form living chains, strings of text for everyone to admire.

Grammatical portrayals of punctuation, style, and phrase abound and although seen remain invisible to uninformed eyes. The expression “Family Dining ‘At It’s Best!'” demonstrates improper grammar.

The neuter pronoun it as used here in the Contraction form (It’s) rather requires the Possessive form (its) without apostrophe, and as such erroneous grammar cannot hide. Naturally, one hopes that the error was intentional so as to make some sort of point. Terminologies enthrall, persuade, discourage, and overwhelm and even abhor us. They are a mixed bag of human emotions; and thereby, control us as readers, and listeners and as people caring to peruse the written page.

Expressions may be similar, or altogether different still interpretations are as diverse as are the people exposed to the scripts.

The world of words opens us to the worlds of the past, present and future; it recaptures childhoods, makes us cry out in the night and helps us to constructively analyze events living in the yesterdays of tomorrows. Searching bestows treasures unavailable without a willful inquisitiveness.

The lyric of song fills the air with musical passions; rivers of imagination float us away. We drift, as would aimless canoes propelled by rushing waters. Fantasies groping and swelling; our faces brightened by big eyes in the face of twilight; the coming day offering the end to suffrage and the beginnings of joy.

I love words, they challenge me to take risks; while daring me to look inward at someone or something difficult to bear: something I, preferably, would ignore or deny. Words, and the manner in which I make use of them “make use of me” and difficult though it may be, they forge a better person.

The writer is merely an architect drawing images of illusion: titillating the fancies of individuals creatively reaching beyond their grasps; every venue representative of imaginatively stirring lures parenting dire circumstances; each moment availing itself to passionate artistic muse by manner of creative genius.

Ideas, and no matter their seeming fixations are flexible, lending themselves to modification and to the living will of change.

If the world of words, and the graciousness abounding within their elements were attractive then what one finds and understands is that words offer something nothing else can and that is the opportunity to create reality from unreal sources. By bending truth, and fiction and making dreams come true the world of words helps us to believe.

Meeting the challenge lives in the hearts of the daring and the risks may be great. Whatever one’s truth or fiction unearthing the treasures of text demands searching, finding and then un-wrapping the world of words.

Copyright © 2013 Delbert H. Rhodes