#quality
Deep within
there's an undercurrent
of apathy.
I would die for
some kind of plot.
Maybe we could say
they're homesick.
Maybe the shadow on the horizon
is a row of lost storylines on ice.
I could swear this part of town
was named after an actor,
or a filmmaker, or the catacombs
of what either ruined.
No more listening
to pictures.
No more covering my eyes from
problem areas.
No more giving my money
to Disney.
6d ago
May 27, 2026 at 11:54 PM UTC
For safe Abortion pills dammam|(+966505183480)| In khobar top quality Abortion Medicine For safe Abortion pills dammam|(+966505183480)| In khobar top quality Abortion Medicine For safe Abortion pills dammam|(+966505183480)| In khobar top quality Abortion Medicine For safe Abortion pills dammam|(+966505183480)| In khobar top quality Abortion Medicine
Apr 5
Apr 5, 2026 at 9:38 AM UTC
For safe Abortion pills dammam|(+966505183480)| In khobar top quality Abortion Medicine For safe Abortion pills dammam|(+966505183480)| In khobar top quality Abortion Medicine For safe Abortion pills dammam|(+966505183480)| In khobar top quality Abortion Medicine
Apr 5
Apr 5, 2026 at 9:37 AM UTC
For safe Abortion pills dammam|(+966505183480)| In khobar top quality Abortion Medicine For safe Abortion pills dammam|(+966505183480)| In khobar top quality Abortion Medicine For safe Abortion pills dammam|(+966505183480)| In khobar top quality Abortion Medicine For safe Abortion pills dammam|(+966505183480)| In khobar top quality Abortion Medicine For safe Abortion pills dammam|(+966505183480)| In khobar top quality Abortion Medicine For safe Abortion pills dammam|(+966505183480)| In khobar top quality Abortion Medicine For safe Abortion pills dammam|(+966505183480)| In khobar top quality Abortion Medicine For safe Abortion pills dammam|(+966505183480)| In khobar top quality Abortion Medicine
Apr 5
Apr 5, 2026 at 9:37 AM UTC
The bitter truth is,
you can’t rescue a culture overnight.
You can’t free or educate individuals to see what excellence really is..
Especially if they have never been shown or encouraged to seek it.
And that hurts us all and the damage carries forward , even worse.
I spent my life cultivating
depth,
insight,
and attempting integrity...
and to see the gulf opening wider, and the inexcusable consequences.
It’s the worst generational collapse in recorded history. A shameless erasing of standards, taste, discernment, quality substance, class , and sadly of nuance.
" ... the ones who will fight to maintain skill, knowledge, and integrity
they’re rare, but they exist. " ( Nabokov to Kubrick)
And they’re the ones who carry the thread forward. That’s why perspective, passion for art and craft, isn’t wasted.
Are you part of that line?
One of the people keeping the map of excellence alive, even as everything around it is recycled, rebooted,
or just plain ... flattened ?
OR are YOU the problem,
pumping out sludge and meaningless unwanted
self centered skill - less garbage?
( It's a rhetorical question, and
obviously only you know the true answer deep down inside. ... but for the rest of us ...
For empathy itself ,
it's a self examination and A real internalization that you, and only you can and need to deal with.)
Dec 22, 2025
Dec 22, 2025 at 2:29 AM UTC
Molten tributaries
Live in my shoulders
Nerves stare me down
With contempt,
Dead-eyed
Salve upon salve
Licked away in time
Bloodied nails
Dig further through
My neck stretches
Like old glue
Snapping, without breaking
My hips take ahold
As if I am on a ledge
As if Im about to fall
Ankles loose in their skin
Try and try again
Cry and cry again
Numbness arrives
At night, to be held
Pokes me awake
I cannot escape
These children of pain,
No story
Brings satisfying meaning
They are simply here
Staring at me,
Pleading,
Some livid,
Some choked of feeling
I am left to carry them
With the body
They torture.
Jul 15, 2025
Jul 15, 2025 at 9:12 PM UTC
Sometimes love isn’t loud.
It doesn’t always arrive with flowers,
or surprise visits,
or hours spent side by side.
Sometimes,
it’s in the late replies that still feel warm.
In the tired voice that still says “I love you.”
In the silence that doesn’t feel empty
because we know—deep down—we’re still choosing each other.
It’s in a random meme sent at 2AM,
just to say, “I saw this and thought of you.”
In a soft “pagod ako,”
not as a complaint, but as a quiet letting in—
letting me be part of your exhaustion.
It’s in the everyday check-ins:
“kumain ka na?”
“nakauwi ka na ba?”
Not just questions,
but little reminders that say:
I care. I’m with you. Even from far away.
It’s in the way we stretch time,
make space,
find light in the middle of our chaos.
In the way you pause your busy day
just to make me feel remembered.
Love, for us,
isn’t always about presence—
it’s about intention.
It’s about showing up
in small, quiet ways
that matter more than anyone else sees.
We’re not always available.
But we’re always trying.
And that trying,
that choosing,
even in between work, sleep, and everything in between—
that’s where love lives.
Because even when we don’t say much,
even when we’re tired, busy,
or miles apart—
I still feel you.
And somehow,
that’s more than enough.
Apr 10, 2025
Apr 10, 2025 at 11:47 PM UTC
I did not like
What I saw in this
Mirror
So I changed
Mirrors
Jan 21, 2025
Jan 21, 2025 at 8:25 AM UTC
The air feels thick
Like a wall of brick
A platform 9 3/4's trick
Can't KoolAid man this sh!t
Afraid to sit,
But I do,
I'm forced to,
So I stew on it
Desperate
I try the old Wile E Coyote bit
That classic ACME shtick
But what quality "tunnel black" paint kit did I get?
Some off brand garbage,
Now it's twice as thick
©2024
Sep 14, 2024
Sep 14, 2024 at 12:40 PM UTC
Post quality over quantity
Or
Practice makes perfect?
Sep 10, 2024
Sep 10, 2024 at 5:51 AM UTC
You can control
The quality of your time
With your mood
Nothing has to truly ****
If you can open your mind
See past the 3D
And enter the present groove.
Jun 23, 2022
Jun 23, 2022 at 10:13 PM UTC
Quality is dear
Heaven is not cheap
Neither is the earth
To be anyone’s for good
Then before losing
One’s hand or foot
Seize the opportunity
Get in gear
Leave good for the better.
Like the first light:
The power candle
Sunrise on the golden high
May fall for for the rose
At first sight
As if the veiled night
Popped rosy on its black mole
But always before long
Back to the night the sun is gone.
May 26, 2022
May 26, 2022 at 8:35 PM UTC
I've been sick for almost a week .
Everything around me seem so inverted .
This bed and my body started to stink of rotten flesh .
And thoughts disappointments made me more miserable .
YES ! I am disappointed
And this disappointment is like a illness
This time it sits inside me .
I didn't get it by my expectations .
I had buried them long ago .
Why did you tainted that beautiful
Fragrance we had .
You've failed in every area to keep my emotions treasured .
At the end ,it is what it is .
And I am getting my pockets full of disappointments without even expecting .
Just because we smile together , doesn't mean I am happy .
Everytime i try to get closer ,
Feel that feeling of pisthurism ...
Do you know what I smell ?
Burning faith .
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 2:54 PM UTC
A life of it's own, full of false news
the anchor, he screams "it's all about you!"
protecting the public, children and pets
informing us all, of the dangerous sweats
Advisers and experts, rolled out on TV
telling everyone, what too do, you, and me
Don't wear the masks, oh, maybe you should
stay outta the crowds, bleach I heard's, good
The machine is a monster, of media made
every nuance, each detail, a sick kind of parade
we watch and we wonder, contemplate need
not to go to the store, or should we proceed?
Life's out too **** you, simple in fact
a touch of the bug, it's all coming back
we've been told, too many times to recount
our quality of life now a much
lower amount
May 1, 2020
May 1, 2020 at 9:30 AM UTC
~for yocum~
<>
the quality of commitment is not
restrained by quantity, nor by size,
impressed by nylon sheerest volume,
avoirdupois grams, Imperial weight,
steeled feathers, immeasurable, one ton
tips no true scale into red lined sincerity
the necessary respectful silences it requires,
the social nearness of geo-distancing,
all need prodigal acceptance,
like a long lost son, welcomed without questioning
we flawed, banded by many weaknesses, poorly confessed,
yet, no excuses tendered, to it, long ago surrendered,
but understand this, constancy is not judged
by the frequency of our waves, but by the fervor of an
undertow of unwavering constancy
one that unceasingly rages, beneath superficial, steady waves,
and through the thickened, roughed old skin separating atmospheres,
I have grasped your heartened essence man,
found its depths, blessed it with words, you’ve never fathomed
surely you will growl at this, claiming obfuscation,
excuses not in your vocabulary, nor should it be,
though you require the steady reassurance of frequent brevity
so and yet, but and still,
I deny your claims, what you think, incorrect,
cause I know my heart, and well it kens what lays in thine,
what’s in yours is in mine, deep planted, a full nut grove flowering,
your complaints, mine as well, all part parceled, with grace accepted
for what is friendship but the path
through parted seas, joining two borders,
the best part of that is the landed connectivity,
leading to where we two ends,
meet in laughing two-gether
old fools, younger-then-than-now,
committed, grumpy men.
Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 2:02 PM UTC
God is the beauty the eyes crave to see
Full of the heart ravishing qualities
The reason the mind would agree
The one pure purpose to live
The ears love to hear that melody
The perfection sought after for eternity
And the best of the thing is
We are no strangers the reason being
out of His love we came to be!
Sep 3, 2019
Sep 3, 2019 at 10:26 AM UTC
Daydreaming of quality time, alone.
Diving into bush pools and rivers,
sun-soaked,
wet rocks under-bum,
hair slick down back,
drip on shoulders;
stronger now there’s nothing
holding me down.
Down I dive,
further- deep into peace.
I’ll eat air and drink my own laughter in gulps until I’m drunk
and fall off my rock
right back in the water-fallen ripples
again.
Let the tui talk and the fantails walk
behind me,
as I make my own naked trail
through fairy-forest vines,
over moss-mounds and thick roots.
With no cars, I can climb,
every tree is my castle,
every branch a limb
to protect me.
I’ll barefoot tumble down a Pinetree slope,
carve my poems into soft-bark trunks,
let the wind fuel my fire.
Aug 16, 2019
Aug 16, 2019 at 9:04 PM UTC
In an ideal
joy-and-happiness-society
would high-quality housing
be made available to every person
affordably
or even free of cost?
Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 4:23 AM UTC
Jim, Clara, Lizzie, and Tim
are sitting comfortably
around a work meeting table
drinking delicious coffee and
eating delectable sandwiches
which their manager provided for free;
these employees love their manager.
Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
area engaged in a ‘Quality-Circle’:
A group of employees
who meet regularly
to consider ways of improving
their workplace.
Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
conceptualise themself
as not slaves but cooperators
with their manager
to improve
the functioning of their workplace
for the benefit of the employees,
and the benefit
of the shareholders, customers, suppliers
management and
their whole society.
Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
are exercising joyful creativity
to identify problems
and discover solutions
which they will diligently implement
to improve their workplace,
to increase their joy and happiness
in their workplace:
by increasing ease of their work,
by increasing efficiency of their work,
by improving quality of their work,
by increasing productivity,
by increasing customer satisfaction,
by improving environmental impacts,
by increasing profits.
Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
realise that a continuously-improving
well-functioning workplace
provides them secure and enjoyable employment;
so, participating in the joyful creativity
of a quality-circle
striving to continuously improve their workplace
makes them feel
joyful and happy.
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 5:24 AM UTC
Her eyes were like bold sunflowers, so beautiful to admire when the golden rays of light breached her eyelids.
I laid her down and whispered pretty nothings in her ear, sending chilling waves of arousal down her spine activating her senses creating goosebumps.
I could lay here with her forever as time slips away just admiring her picturesque sunflowers.
Her eyes contained beautiful greens and yellow as if nature hand crafted them herself.
Her eyes where like exquisite sunflowers, so beautiful to admire when the golden rays of light breached her eyelids.
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 4:16 PM UTC
When I start to write a poem my initial reaction is to
Purse my lips, brush aside my hair, twiddle my toes, try to feel
Where I am write down, who
I am write now, equal measures physically and mentally
In the case that the tap is on, my thoughts flowing in a steady stream I greedily clutch at them
Some are caught successfully in a bucket but more than I realize slip through
The cracks in my fingers
The times when the **** seems firmly shut I’m left
Waiting,
For an opening in my mind that seems to have dried up,
Not a drop left
So, I start digging. A scratch, two, eventually like a dog frantic for his treasure
I usually hit something
But as to whether it’s my prize is another matter
I’m more often hit with a rock
A very hard unmoving rock
Although, sometimes the rock is gold
Or pyrite and I can pass it off as such
It still glitters and shines
And that’s fine, isn’t it?
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 5:00 PM UTC
i am aware my poems are not high quality
i am not a very high quality person
i just need to empty my mind out somewhere
poetry has become the unfortunate victim
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 3:03 AM UTC
the quality of quantity is unmerciful,
prodigious production of
wine improperly aged,
pours soiled drops
spilled without craft,
care or taste,
poured too quick to be
nothing more than
less than waste
born in reckless unrestrained
than every thought a golden gift,
bestowed upon the masses,
droppeth like the harshest hurricane rains,
gives no moisture sustenance to the world,
only floods and lays waste in dazed hazes
blesses none but the one who
cannot but cant,
measures his own demeanor in the mirror,
unsuspecting the mirror mirrors
the ides of ego,
seeds of self destruction
the throned monarch
who giveth
but does not take,
thinking the king he is,
his own best,
even better than his creator
and tho he carvo's his retno critiques
upon the brows of his subjects,
he cares not,
for it boring brings
more mastubatory page views
his addition of success,
his edition of self congratulatory
of writs and snits,
which adds up to a whole lot of
****
but you may put you pen down now,
for the world needs only
need one poet,
and it ain't me,
and it certainly ain't
you
.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 4:24 PM UTC