Diving into bath salts, raving flue that is as sicking as math, at least that is what I conclude from my findings presented to the court. Objection, objection, sir I don't see the connection, maybe your rhyme scheme needs perfection. Maybe it does, but ***** it, I'm blessed by God; baby please sit down and take a chill pill and just enjoy this buzz. Busting off, so back off, bout to prove my case like I’m Ace Attorney, oh and I know it’s off topic but if I lived in America, I would’ve voted for Bernie. What the **** am I on? Came to save the digital world you can call me a digimon, you bet I’m a champion! Serendipity dear deputy; I’ll be typically wittingly searching for some tranquility. What is the validity of this vicinity as I only accept notability and won’t let this become a liability!

Pathologically paraplegic hypochondriac with insomniac who be popping poems profusely perfect; while whimsically worm's try to be strategic, but sadly choke and lose it. Miles set apart; it certainly is not a strut in some park, but everyone has to start somewhere before they engrave their mark. Don't reside yourself to just being a silhouette, nor be one to toot your clarinet. Two sides to every person like Dr.Jekyll and Mr.Hyde; be careful to not let your pride turn into carbon monoxide. For pride will always lead to your downfall, so please take off your iron curtain and tear down your Berlin wall. Improvident incongruous incredulous confidence; underwhelming astonishment of such fundaments of these heinous and callous acts of deceitfulness. Trickery of thy decadence; why art though jittery when you are full of benevolence? So used to getting what you want I bet; well this situation can not be fixed by dough, so I see why you are in a cold sweat! Fake confidence won't help you here especially when one lies; you made a mistake and will face the consequences and I am not one quick to forgive no matter how much you apologize.  

Don’t have time to consider your sensibility, because my life is going a twitter with too much hyperactivity for me to deal with your stupidity. Befittingly that I’ll be building up the intensity, to infinity and beyond goes this creativity of this anomaly. Not going to prolong this phenomenon, I’ll be going off like a Molotov over this intercom, yeah you better not ever underestimate this underdog. Lackadaisical are these other rappers; they’re so replaceable and incapable to be educational. Incomprehensible is this loop of hip-hop now a days, why can’t we be inspirational or is it to late because we left morals and substance back in the olden days. Can’t afford to be anchored anymore, I’ve poured in too much time to be just be locked behind some door. I refuse to be ignored and be left ashore; I am not worried about going into the storm; because you are bound to come across some things that need some work like chores. Spinning the wheel, reminiscing of how it felt when I no longer concealed who I was and my self-image had been healed.

Used to be reclusive & convinced myself that I was a duffass, but now I’m exclusive to being a smart ***. This is the new era, this is a new fire; it’s time to spice things up so better pull out the sriracha. Leading the revolution like I’m Che Guevara, I’m light as feather whatever the endeavor even if my life story doesn’t end up as pristine as Cinderella’s. Why so infatuated by worldly wants? Why so decorated when you can't hide the fact that you're the same basic *** font? Trying be something else, striving to be someone else, wanting to be anything else. You are who you are, if you think it will make things better you cucu, because in my eyes you are really a star. You have to expand your interpretation and perspective of life, you have to demand without hesitation a piece of that collective pie; because I believe everyone should be equal in this life.

Calculated bullets that go straight through my cranium; manufactured outlets that show great things but have also turned us into brainless aliens. Complicated hookups that grow irritating and become as unstable as uranium; what was once sacred has become as spontaneous as going to a gymnasium. Confiscated trinkets cast away and leaves those affected very irritate; while also simultaneously making apathetic souls that have gone through the same thing be able to understand, help or relate. Cultivated rebellious culprits that don't take the memo of being cooperative, instead they choose to be provocative and opposite of the other conglomerates. I’m so fascinated by this fabricated segregated supposedly liberated and sophisticated community; where-as some so foolishly stupidly amusingly think that everyone has the same equal chance at opportunity. Moderated, regulated and orchestrated where some are situated; if you don’t think that it has something to do with be affiliated to a certain demographic then maybe you never got educated in the affairs of those discriminated. It’s a good thing then that class is in session; so viewer or listener  please use discretion when taking time to witness or hear my position. Deafening out all ill whims; wrestling with these unsettling menacing fears and guilt from all of my sins.

Yeah no need for hallucinogens, all I need is two hydrogens and one oxygen. Rocking in my moccasins; so you can bet I am not one to drop my promises. Native honour who is also a innovative scholar and who was created not to falter. I may not be good with numbers, but I'm good at making sure you never slumber on my words; because I work on them day and night in my 36 chambers. Beware the pretender, they are manufactured by the vendors to keep us from being together. Defend your heart; be wise who you befriend and who you pick for your counterpart. There will be hurt and affection can be perverted, so know your worth and never ever let yourself be distorted. It is not your fault, it is not my fault, so then who is at fault? Is it just life in general? Is it because of the being who lives eternal? Is it all of the above? I don't know, but we shouldn't judge and instead choose to accept and love!

Pardon me Martin, but if this class were a prison I’d be the warden. I make the rules here and I took the tools given to me to get me here. So listen, please listen to my lesson that I have to present to you as class is still in session. Loading yawl with ammunition to be able to transition to be able to complete your goals or missions. No I’m not tripping, I’m driven  by a higher force to break away the old ways of thinking such as division. This is not the prohibition anymore, so please open your minds and join me on this expedition. Going into the unknown, so here’s to hoping you get through this, as time goes on and be able to look back at it we may feel like this was no more than a tiny but important milestone.  Achieve, believe, conceive, receive, intrigue, and succeed because I think you are unique. You are the only you in the whole galaxy, don’t let agony turn into tragedy; ***** anxiety; yeah and never let your dreams just be some fantasy.

Outro: Sit down class ain't over yet, forfeit those frowns or fake faint or try to jet. Lastly remember what transpired today; don't go hastily and forget about it on December break okay? For though class may be over, more days or years to come until its finally over. Though education ends, one never stops learning even on vacations with family or friends.  I hope you can look back with fondness, I hope you can stay on track in the future if you truly take the time to just focus. Is there truly an end or is this just the beginning to a new bend.

Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder
Anemia
Thyroid
Lordosis
Scoliosis
Diabetes
Asthma
Depres­sion
Anxiety
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

This is my brain
This is my iron
This is my back
This is my pancreas
This is my lungs
This is my mind
This is my experience
This is my health
This is me

Not having perfect health
Is nothing to be ashamed of
It is something to be proud of
Look, I have so much going on
And I am still here
Standing tall
Taking life day by day
Getting through school
And work
While dealing with all of this

No one has perfect health
And if they do,
They are lying

Life was not meant to be easy
Life was not meant to be a breeze
Life was not meant to be clear
Or make sense
We may question life
We may question a higher power
We may even question ourselves
But
Just keep pushing
Because I believe anyone can get through anything
When the
Proper health
Is provided

I am not a doctor
I am a student
Who is young
And has her whole life ahead of her
IF she remains healthy
I am not educated on the human body and its functions
But I know
From experience
That hardships come
And that effects you
Physically
And emotionally
I am not a doctor
But I am here
And I am spreading my word
And offering my shoulder
To those who want or need it

This is me
This is my health
This is my experience
This is my mind
This is my lungs
This is my pancreas
This is my back
This is my iron
This is my brain

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
Anxiety
Depression
Asthma
Diabetes
Scoliosis
Lordosis
Th­yroid
Anemia
Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder

This is me
This is us

My skin has been itching for three months
I’m not sure why this is addicting

I’ve crashed a car in my head 3 times today
My mental awareness consistently letting go of the wheel
The Anterior teeth of my mouth have started to yellow in disapproval
I’m not sure why this is satisfying

I’ve been taking toxic psychotropics in light doses more than twice a day
It’s warmth is comforting as the jittering and hyperactivity become null
Bags have formed under my eyes
If you were to open them, their roasted smell would overpower you with stimulation
Constantly on my toes for risk of Insomnia and Narcolepsy
I’m not sure why this is outstanding

Adrenaline is being forcefully factored into my body
If this is the bullet, I’m biting it after an appliance pulls the trigger
As the high passes, it ripples through my mind
An otherwise calm sea, tidal waves pound the shores of my subconsciousness
Vacuum sealed can are filled with awareness
Sleep has become a rare odyssey
Warm comforters are replaced with long trachea trips of boiling beans
I’m not sure why this is alarming

Double trips become tripled and troubling to my mother
Arguments over the hours I shall harvest from the night are increasingly frequent
Slow to roll out of bed in the morning
I don’t hit my carpet, I splash into sugared preparedness
In my backpack hides a cup full of GI Joes
I’m not sure why this is troubling

If anything, I’m drinking a medicine that prevents death by 10-15% for 13 years
The New England Journal of Medicine was happy to acknowledge my existence
Till they announce anything different, you’ll find me taking a mud bath
I’m not sure why this is disgusting

Tell me everything that’s wrong with it
Because from where I’m standing
There is nothing wrong with
Coffee

Synthesize simulwatching & simulreading into a multitasking attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (MADHD)

MY TREE HOUSE 12-02-09

Hi. I’m hyper-active. I also don’t pay attention very well. They say I have “attention-deficit” but I’m starting to think that it’s not a deficit, it’s an attention overload. I get distracted easily because so much flows through my brain at one time. Add that to hyperactivity, it’s no wonder I’m accident-prone. They wanted me to wear a helmet but I flatly refused.

I have a tree house. I’ve always had a tree house or a fort of some kind. I’m not a kid anymore, but each year that passes by; I get younger, by one year. If I get back to age 30, I’ll be amazed. But that’s a long ten years away. It’s better than turning sixty.

I’m short. I’m small, and I can climb like a monkey and drink like a buffoon.
Sometimes this combination is very entertaining. Sometimes it’s just completely annoying…to others.

There was only so much I could do as a kid. By the time I was six, my younger brother, at age two and a half, was as tall as me. I punched him regularly, if he annoyed me. But I took up for him, a lot. He remembers me wailing on a kid twice my size, because he’d hit my little brother. I don’t remember, but my brother recalls me swinging and yelling “You don’t hit my brother! Nobody hits my brother, ‘cept me! Take that, you *****!”

As the giant fell from a kick to the groin, I’d haul my little brother home, by his ear, telling him to STAY OUT of trouble. I couldn’t be there every time he needed me.

I’m not 6 years old anymore, but explain that to the neighborhood kids. Each year, they get taller and I get smaller. Time and again, I am outgrown. When they get to a certain height, they try to lean their elbows on top of my head, or tussle my hair. That’s when they learn what I’m really made of! These are kid’s I’ve been scaring at Halloween since they were toddlers.

Even though my tree house is for me, I must say it does attract a lot of attention, from adults and kids alike. There is not one neighbor, young or old who has not climbed up there.

With a whimsical fascination, a whisper comes out….”I’ve always wanted a tree house…just like this…”

Yep, me too. That’s why I keep working on it. That’s why I have more scrapes, scratches, abrasions, tears, bruises and bug bites than anyone I know. And I wear shorts all the time, so they show. I sometimes appear to have chicken pox. But it’s just poison ivy.

Everyone that knows me doesn’t really notice; it’s just a part of me. But sometimes, strangers will look at my tanned, scraped, burned and just plain injured skin and gasp.

Before they know it, they’ve commented behind their hand. “Good Lord, child, what happened to you?”

“Ooooohh, just life”, I say as I scamper out of the liquor store.

heartbeat racing, face flushing, core frozen,
fingers tracing, thoughts binding and lost,
eyes meddling, feet tapping, leg shaking,
knee bending, muscles stretching, brain working,
emotions zooming, horizon closing,
frantically thinking, decidedly acting to
sitting back and lazing, forgetting, unwinding
numbing and breaking, glancing and gliding.

the attention deficit hyperactivity disorder
poem
is a strange animal

with lines
monosyllabically
short
and then
perilously   freakishly    faulknerically
long
but not to worry

the trick is to ***** around
with the readers' heads a bit
let them wonder
   what's going on
get them used to
   obnoxious departures
   sudden jolts
      of expression
   devious detours into
     obscenity, indecency

these are the
tourette's moments
of a poet's creative life:
a move to keep those with the
attention span of an infant gnat
awake  alive  responsive

some may expect poetry
to take them down
safe  bland  routes:
         a snowfall enhanced by red robins
         perched on a rustic fence

         a lake with canoeing lovers cooing
         in a shimmering moment
          
         heartfelt elegies
         quaint quatrains
         hip haikus

but can these images
really keep you entranced?

well, can they?

it isn't like i didn't warn you
or the horse you rode in on

Hello friends! This is my first bilingual book.HAMMER @ ANVIL BOOKS released my book of poems as e-book on AMAZON Kindle: http: //www.amazon.com/A-Feather-of-Fujiyama-ebook/dp/B 00E5XY5PO/ref=sr11? s=digital-text&ie;=UTF8&qid;=1374938945&sr;=1-1
Special thanks to Vessislava Savova (translator) , Mercedes Webb-Pullman (Editor) , Adam Henry Carriere (Editor) , and my daughter Liliya Pangelova (illustrator)
All proceeds from the sale of this collection will go to the Bulgarian Integrated Education Foundation, working to improve the lives of children and youth with special health and educational needs (including mild Down syndrome, autism / autistic spectrum, cerebral palsy, language-speech disorders, and hyperactivity) and their families.}
Thanks for your support everyone! I wish you happiness and good reading.
Bozhidar Pangelov

Apparently, there is a word for people who like to cover up pain with a smile.
That's such an odd thing to have a label and concept around
Considering how broad the meaning could be.
Are these people simply masochists?
What type of pain are they subject to?
Physical?
Mental?
Emotional?
My body doesn't always know the difference.

But when I think about my personal embodiment of such a concept,
I think of tense social situations.
Either private, or public
With only one other person, or a group
And the smallest tip of the scales has led to,
what was previously,
a tall and solid tower sculptured by your own iron will
Only to be unveiled in all its fragility
as a flimsy stack of paper sheets

Maybe you see your ex-lover are at a coffee shop
And you realize they don't think about you all that much any more
Or maybe they never did
Or maybe they just moved on.

He used to say he saw a universe inside of you
and oh, how he longed to be a part of it.
One day, he could see a future with you
One day.
But just not now.
He lied.

The anger grazes a kiss across your heartstrings
like the most vengeful angel fire
It sends low and heavy static through your bones until waves reach your seasick gut
and all of its contents beg to scrape a way back out of you now.
You're restless jaw flexes
primal reactions lead to feeling far too eager
to latch onto flesh and rip
Maybe you catch your own tongue or cheek in the process
and the blood will taste familiar
and coppery sweet

You're probably enraged.
You feel livid and betrayed and
entitled to their future and love and
at least some sort of explanation.
As if that would serve as sugar
to make the drug taste sweeter on the way down.
But, it does not change what's underneath that loud, hot and passionate aggression.

You're sad.
Your hurt, demanding to be heard.
Your body is carrying weight it wasn't a few moments before
And yet, you have not shown any of this.
You're not throwing a fit,
knocking over ****
or punching him in the face
in the way you really, really want to.
You're not screaming, or crying, disappearing or leaving
in a way you wish you could even more.

Because you may think your first response is more trouble overall if expressed
On some level you don't want to guilt or blame on this person
You may want to make it seem you're in the same boat of composure and indifference.
As if this show of self restraint will change his mind
And he'll come running back to you
As if him being impressed by apathy
and begging forgiveness is what you'd want him to do

No, on some level, its a feeling of embarrassment
and trying to cover up the fact that
four poems and two songs ago you swore
you'd stop having feelings for this boy
That your heart was your own once again,
and no one had a leash to **** you around
one way or the other.

Nonetheless, out loud, you say: "oh."
Because that is a few second window
to wrap all the dread and fury and hyperactivity
the adrenaline has shot into your bloodstream.
The entire world is frantically on full volume
There's a locomotive, crashing against your sternum
every split second
And you have to dye every sun spotted moment with him
In oily black disappointment

"Oh" buys you enough space to find bandages to hide the bruises
underneath your chest
In that "oh" you have compacted all that space junk whipping around and rattling your skeleton into a black hole
that will self destruct and,
hopefully,
collapse all it's contents unto itself

You hold that star sucker in your centre
and you slap a smile on top
You grin in the face of your own pain
Because it is safe, and what is familiar to you.
And you can hold it in a cocoon for protection
until your left alone to bleed
or breathe
or convince yourself this never really mattered.

But for right now, you show complacence in this agony
as not risk any more damage with exposure
Maybe you say something that sounds mature and impartial.
Convince them you are so happy they've had something good come into their life;
Implying that the same has come to you
Something, at the time,
you can't remember is necessarily true or not.

You are insistent not to stir the living creature
wrangled in muscle
sitting atop your lungs
And that grimace is a 'Do not Disturb' sign.

I think "oh" speaks for itself in its pain and simplicity
Its a gasp of pain
And the pause after a blow
The start to so many sentences with no end
And a reoccurring soundtrack to all my reluctant epiphanies
Played on repeat
and more consistently skipping than my lovers.

Disheartening moments like that
serve as uneven pavement I trip over and simultaneously
have gravel split my skin and break my nose on impact.

"Oh" was the delayed fire alarm
to tell you the building has already burnt to the ground.
Come and see the remaining disaster, now that it's over.
Watch helplessly as the building collapses with a whisper.
"Oh."

That is the sound of you hearing part of your friend group
Still hangs out with your local ******
Even after the dam of stories cracked onto their lap
the night they assured you that you had their ear
That they were listening
That someone cared
But now he's a different guy around me,
he doesn't remember it, I swear.

"Oh," is realizing the friend you never quite got the chance to know in school
killed themselves last week.
It's the sound that escapes me, when someone is interested in who I am
Until they realize I'm trans.
It's a noise that gets stolen when people are interested in me,
accept me for being trans,
but leave when I fall short of expectation because of who I am.

There is so much hurt encapsulated in those two letters
one syllable
one sound
for me
It's packed in pearly whites and dead eyes
a shaky wall with a tornado tucked behind.
How can a storm pass so quickly
Without any sign of trouble outside?

Simply put:
I don't want to let anyone know
I would rather be left to suffer on my own
Without any rescue team to disappoint
when they cannot find a single living body
to dredge from the rubble.