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#strengths
there are many places one needs to be strong from within, periodically differing. but there are two places which be deemed Sine qua non meaning "without which not,” referring to indispensable, essential condition ingredient absolutely. the strength of the heart and the hands didn’t not think there was within me this day, a new morning blessing, a first poem of the day, the weakened mind was troubled, the uncertainties were /are surrounding the wagon train, and the strength of my keys were, tired and de energized, and there is no Amazon listing for electric charger of alternating body parts sitting in an orange sun suffused room of near total silence (always something somewhere beeping, whirring) which is the near indispensable silence beloved best, for it be a cold cream soothing of mental quietude reflective) and the truer strength in my trembling heart and hands surprises me pleasantly affording me the necessary internal intestinal quietude to be seeking out these two parts and ones place for to write me a poem, a consoling ode, will not detail this poem onerous unnecessarily though words keep on slipping from my thoughts begging me to be joint contributors; but I gently sweep them aside for a later day, later time, another focus group of intro inspection at this particular, the heart beats emphatically and empathetically the hands type and also (!) suckle my heated mug and here I cease, resist, leaving you to delve on your time the whys of, how the combo’s of heart and hands came to rescue me just now and you will let me know in beautiful crafted poems of thine own quiet~attitude how they two came to save you too —— fini 7:43am nyc mon morn april 20
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Apr 20
Apr 20, 2026 at 7:13 AM UTC
the two true places of strength
there are many places one needs to be strong from within, periodically differing. but there are two places which be deemed Sine qua non meaning "without which not,” referring to indispensable, essential condition ingredient absolutely. the strength of the heart and the hands didn’t not think there was within me this day, a new morning blessing, a first poem of the day, the weakened mind was troubled, the uncertainties were /are surrounding the wagon train, and the strength of my keys were, tired and de energized, and there is no Amazon listing for electric charger of alternating body parts sitting in an orange sun suffused room of near total silence (always something somewhere beeping, whirring) which is the near indispensable silence beloved best, for it be a cold cream soothing of mental quietude reflective) and the truer strength in my trembling heart and hands surprises me pleasantly affording me the necessary internal intestinal quietude to be seeking out these two parts and ones place for to write me a poem, a consoling ode, will not detail this poem onerous unnecessarily though words keep on slipping from my thoughts begging me to be joint contributors; but I gently sweep them aside for a later day, later time, another focus group of intro inspection at this particular, the heart beats emphatically and empathetically the hands type and also (!) suckle my heated mug and here I cease, resist, leaving you to delve on your time the whys of, how the combo’s of heart and hands came to rescue me just now and you will let me know in beautiful crafted poems of thine own quiet~attitude how they two came to save you too —— fini 7:43am nyc mon morn april 20
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59
We were asked, "What are your strengths and weaknesses?" I kept looking at the paper as if it was written in an ancient language. I repeated the question in my head, I'll think of something, right? Such a simple question, yet my mind was blank. I could think of so many weaknesses, but so little strengths. Were strengths something I had to excel at? Do I just lie? I couldn't mention a strength, I didn't want to seem arrogant. I couldn't mention a weakness either, so I wouldn't seem like an attention seeker! It felt funny, I could mention the strengths of those around me, When it came to myself I was just empty. Time was fleeting, it was running out, The more I thought about it, the worse it got. I began thinking of all the stuff I was good at, or so I thought. "No, no, no, no!" Why couldn't I think of anything? Was I just talentless? Why was I so bad at everything?
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May 13, 2025
May 13, 2025 at 2:36 PM UTC
The Blank Page
Timing is everything We                       Are The.             Last Generation Full.               cup Prin               ciple We’ll                  wait for                   the Right          time tribulation Be         Gins God’s.            will Be                    done We are only as strong as our weakest link In preservation we think Make love, not war What are we fighting for? As in the time of Noah Fighting amongst ourselves America will fall from within On our knees tribulation begins The vultures circle to feast The arrival of Satan‘s beast The smell of death is in the air American’s act without care Living absent of God, unaware When tribulation begins Man’s Sins Will be on full display God‘s wrath has plenty to say God wants our full attention The Bible reveals His full intention
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Mar 29, 2025
Mar 29, 2025 at 1:04 AM UTC
As Strong as our Weakest Link
They always said How much the little girl Was like her daddy in The way she stood Walked Movements Gestures -- Cute when she was small But the older she gets The more she takes on More serious aspects of My strengths My weaknesses. Proud to see her Strong personality -- Flashbacks of my youth. Strong-willed Free in spirit As a young deer Kinking up its hind legs In defiance of constriction. A free spirit sees No need for the fences We build to contain it To control our so-called Base instincts. In her my strengths are Magnified but oh So are my weaknesses -- My weaknesses magnified?! Looking at this Living mirror of myself Seems to Magnify Intensify A normal father/daughter Relationship. I think I see clearly because I think I know myself so well. I chastise myself I condemn my weaknesses The mistakes I made in my youth. I look down at me She looks up to me. They say she is So much like her daddy But she is much more. Part mama Part gran Part grandma A tapestry of traits All formed in her Along with what her social Environments have Sown in and reaped of her. The teenager often sees the Outward beauty of a Model or movie star. Someone is always Better looking Someone else always Has more of something. I try so hard to help her see That this is so common A feeling. She is above all this She is not run of the mill. I know she knows this Somewhere Deep inside. Time has proved That I see more Than what meets the eye-- But this knowing Holds possible dangers. I can see ahead to Warn her of trouble But there are troubles That she must endure. Over-protection Every caring parent knows This pain. I do not want to fail her But distance seems to grow Between us when I monitor her progress When I push and **** To make her less like daddy. She shouldn’t be too much Like me -- I have too many regrets. In the night hours I sometimes hear sounds That I cannot distinguish. I hear fluttering sounds That I think are birds Flying out of the trees But in reality it is the wind Blowing high Through the pines. I see shadows of strangers Seeking mischief Shining bright Lights at the family tent In the cold Half-dream-state Of the cold night-- But reality says it is The distortion of the campfire Through the fabric of the tent. I cannot always distinguish Certain sights and sounds At certain times But time reveals what They truly are. But to bite the tongue When I wish to scold Out of season! To stop focusing on our Likenesses to the point Where I cannot differentiate Between what she used to be And what I used to feel And the individual soul That my daughter is! They always say how much she is like her daddy. Maybe daddy needs to change.
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Nov 19, 2024
Nov 19, 2024 at 8:39 AM UTC
Me and My Daughter
They always said How much the little girl Was like her daddy in The way she stood Walked Movements Gestures -- Cute when she was small But the older she gets The more she takes on More serious aspects of My strengths My weaknesses. Proud to see her Strong personality -- Flashbacks of my youth. Strong-willed Free in spirit As a young deer Kinking up its hind legs In defiance of constriction. A free spirit sees No need for the fences We build to contain it To control our so-called Base instincts. In her my strengths are Magnified but oh So are my weaknesses -- My weaknesses magnified?! Looking at this Living mirror of myself Seems to Magnify Intensify A normal father/daughter Relationship. I think I see clearly because I think I know myself so well. I chastise myself I condemn my weaknesses The mistakes I made in my youth. I look down at me She looks up to me. They say she is So much like her daddy But she is much more. Part mama Part gran Part grandma A tapestry of traits All formed in her Along with what her social Environments have Sown in and reaped of her. The teenager often sees the Outward beauty of a Model or movie star. Someone is always Better looking Someone else always Has more of something. I try so hard to help her see That this is so common A feeling. She is above all this She is not run of the mill. I know she knows this Somewhere Deep inside. Time has proved That I see more Than what meets the eye-- But this knowing Holds possible dangers. I can see ahead to Warn her of trouble But there are troubles That she must endure. Over-protection Every caring parent knows This pain. I do not want to fail her But distance seems to grow Between us when I monitor her progress When I push and **** To make her less like daddy. She shouldn’t be too much Like me -- I have too many regrets. In the night hours I sometimes hear sounds That I cannot distinguish. I hear fluttering sounds That I think are birds Flying out of the trees But in reality it is the wind Blowing high Through the pines. I see shadows of strangers Seeking mischief Shining bright Lights at the family tent In the cold Half-dream-state Of the cold night-- But reality says it is The distortion of the campfire Through the fabric of the tent. I cannot always distinguish Certain sights and sounds At certain times But time reveals what They truly are. But to bite the tongue When I wish to scold Out of season! To stop focusing on our Likenesses to the point Where I cannot differentiate Between what she used to be And what I used to feel And the individual soul That my daughter is! They always say how much she is like her daddy. Maybe daddy needs to change.
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129
That lasting life change So deep, so heart felt? How is it born? That deep inner knowing A place of understanding Connected to what Is Divine within each of us? As we work together to understand truth What lies within each of us and directs us To the deepest desired connections Of our intertwined hearts? Is this within? The unfolding Inner most being A Higher Spiritual Self? The Spiritual Man The Spiritual Woman Who's purpose exposes Our strengths and weaknesses With expected and unexpected gifts? As our weaknesses bring Us to our knees Lamenting our life's challenges Crying out our broking hearts Evaluating the known and unknown How do we begin to move along The Way Home?! Do we go into the unknown shadow of darkness Only to shriek and back away?   Or do we chose to allow courage To accept our steps into it's presence? In spite of our fears Will we allow courage To forge our greatest strengths? As steal within the bellowing fires? And if we allow resolve Will we find deeper wisdom and truth Beating within the sacred chambers of our hearts? The opening is before us. If you place a hand on the door Open it wide! It was then! He stepped into the shadow of His own darkness….. Finding himself alone He reached his hand back Toward hers. Stepping into her own shadow She grasped his outstretched hand Pulling, supporting, anchoring together Both facing the Light... From within their own Shadows of darkness Holding fast, They began their journey together. Step by step Line up on line Precept upon precept.....
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May 20, 2022
May 20, 2022 at 5:51 PM UTC
How does it begin?
That lasting life change So deep, so heart felt? How is it born? That deep inner knowing A place of understanding Connected to what Is Divine within each of us? As we work together to understand truth What lies within each of us and directs us To the deepest desired connections Of our intertwined hearts? Is this within? The unfolding Inner most being A Higher Spiritual Self? The Spiritual Man The Spiritual Woman Who's purpose exposes Our strengths and weaknesses With expected and unexpected gifts? As our weaknesses bring Us to our knees Lamenting our life's challenges Crying out our broking hearts Evaluating the known and unknown How do we begin to move along The Way Home?! Do we go into the unknown shadow of darkness Only to shriek and back away?   Or do we chose to allow courage To accept our steps into it's presence? In spite of our fears Will we allow courage To forge our greatest strengths? As steal within the bellowing fires? And if we allow resolve Will we find deeper wisdom and truth Beating within the sacred chambers of our hearts? The opening is before us. If you place a hand on the door Open it wide! It was then! He stepped into the shadow of His own darkness….. Finding himself alone He reached his hand back Toward hers. Stepping into her own shadow She grasped his outstretched hand Pulling, supporting, anchoring together Both facing the Light... From within their own Shadows of darkness Holding fast, They began their journey together. Step by step Line up on line Precept upon precept.....
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57
Staying strong Providing a listening ear Even when fear is reinforced Strength shines sunlight down on me dries the tears. Hope is there. The light at the end of my journey’s tunnel. Through thick and thin I never give up. For, in life, we never stop trying… Until death’s stalker’s follow Begins.
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Feb 16, 2019
Feb 16, 2019 at 7:05 PM UTC
Strength’s Journey
You are the Sea - peaceful and soothing. Your big waves are your strengths. And the small ones, your charms. I am your Shore - acccepting and silent. Your weaknesses, I embraced. Your failures, I welcomed. Not many will understand and agree But that's how a Shore loves her Sea.
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Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 12:47 AM UTC
The Sea and Shore
You will discover - Your strengths and weaknesses; Just look within.
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May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 9:05 AM UTC
Discover (10W)
We talked. No I was rude, You talked at me. I listened, Pretending I didn't, You knew. But with that I got something better. An essence, One I'll use again and again. You showed me my eyes made me who I am. Your weakness define your strengths, So should you really rush to erase your weaknesses? Nay, I'd rather be wise: Strengthen my strengths, Acknowledge my weakness. Then I won't trip over them. I'll consciously work around them, Casually get where I need to go. It's a lot of work to fill your weaknesses, Work I could put in becoming wise. Thanks Wolf.
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Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 4:47 AM UTC
Strengths. 25th of July 2017
Before I die I want to learn to live in the moment this very moment I want to feel every breath If the sun is shining I want to let it go through me enlivening every cell If it rains I want to try to count the droplets and sense the life in them I want to learn to replace worry with wonder and regret with wisdom letting go of past traumas real or imagined I want to learn who I am and how to be true to that I want to learn my strengths to forgive my shortcomings to absolutely know myself I want to learn a thousand-thousand new words I want to learn to fly if only in my dreams before I die I want to learn to live!
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Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 7:49 PM UTC
Flying
The question is asked again and again, Where do we come from? Who are we? All throughout life men and women great And foolish have attempted to explain this, "In a moment all will be explained," "If you pay more money you will be cleansed," "Not worshipping is the realm of the insane," "With these soft spoken incantations you will mend," So where do we come from? What is all this? From rushing water, breath of air, no need for Recognition, it's all miles away in some deserted Forest, to be left for later generations to forget, Let this be an answer, why are we here? I shall Obtain eternal life if I just hold this vile Closer to my heart, a work of vain art, This isn't life, this is the illusion of life, The answer nestled in a small cave, The birth of a newborn bird, a ripple in a pond From a rock that fell during an earthquake, A vague reflection of a deer in it's surface gleam, All of this and more, the darkness of night, Cloaking terrors real or imagined, what is this? Maybe one day we will know? This is how fools Are born, clinging to this or that, a drop of water From a vile, an answer from a simple written text That proves it's all happened thus far. This is why Fools are born of this, opportunists, blinded by dust, The great way of those who gather to take advantage, This is where the greatest numbers of fools gather. Far away, the beautiful forest, I may not know what brought This all to life, but I do know what is worth saving And what only fools shall save for themselves...
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Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 4:50 AM UTC
Answers
The question is asked again and again, Where do we come from? Who are we? All throughout life men and women great And foolish have attempted to explain this, "In a moment all will be explained," "If you pay more money you will be cleansed," "Not worshipping is the realm of the insane," "With these soft spoken incantations you will mend," So where do we come from? What is all this? From rushing water, breath of air, no need for Recognition, it's all miles away in some deserted Forest, to be left for later generations to forget, Let this be an answer, why are we here? I shall Obtain eternal life if I just hold this vile Closer to my heart, a work of vain art, This isn't life, this is the illusion of life, The answer nestled in a small cave, The birth of a newborn bird, a ripple in a pond From a rock that fell during an earthquake, A vague reflection of a deer in it's surface gleam, All of this and more, the darkness of night, Cloaking terrors real or imagined, what is this? Maybe one day we will know? This is how fools Are born, clinging to this or that, a drop of water From a vile, an answer from a simple written text That proves it's all happened thus far. This is why Fools are born of this, opportunists, blinded by dust, The great way of those who gather to take advantage, This is where the greatest numbers of fools gather. Far away, the beautiful forest, I may not know what brought This all to life, but I do know what is worth saving And what only fools shall save for themselves...
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32
Vicious black rage enveloped his eyes Electric hate cycled through him Naturally he resorted to the action he knew best Graphically and meticulously he planned his revenge Enhancing his weaknesses into strengths Forward he went, ready for bloodshed Undoubtedly he went for is first five on the list Letting his cold vexation take over -EC
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May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 6:06 PM UTC
Vengeful
Sometimes stuff is not gonna go the way you want. Sometimes the world with explode under your feet. Sometimes love will be just out of your grasp. Sometimes people will be back stabbers. Sometimes you'll bleed to death. Sometimes you'll just have to sit there listening to angry music by Eminem to feel okay. Sometimes you'll never be okay. But that's okay.
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Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 11:22 AM UTC
Sometimes
I wish I was a good poet I wish I was a good musician I wish I could make good tasting food I wish I was the life of the party I wish I could be so very enlightened I wish I had a home I could count on I wish I had a future to dream about I wish I knew art and literature I wish I was good at cleaning I wish I could actually play a sport I wish I could be a great entertainer I wish I had a beautiful face like a movie star I wish I could be a sturdy shoulder for leaning *All of these things mentioned here are my "strengths," I guess this New Years I wish I could do something right For once, like you guys, at any means, any time, any length.*
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Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 3:30 PM UTC
New Years Wishful Thinking
Sold my soul to an old folks home. Comforting, surrender to the norm. Uneventful life, void of purpose. Melting *** a varnished surface. Synthetic reason to go on. Walk a line until its gone.
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Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 11:47 PM UTC
9 to 5
Creativity is a weapon. Giving up is not an option. Imagination is a strength. Knowing your flaws is not a weakness. Knowing you have them is a strength. Pride is important, But too much pride is deadly. Love is key, And hate is the beginning of the end. Death is an adventure, But life is as well. Perseverance is admirable. Crying is okay to do. Taking a break, Catching your breath, That's okay. But with all the things working for you, Giving up is not an option.
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Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
Giving Up is Not an Option
Can I show you how beautiful you are? Can I take out the old photo albums and push my index finger into the faces, the places, and seas? I want to peel back the plastic and remove the square photographs from their sticky setting. I'm alluding to ideas that exist more formidably on the internet- there are no paper photographs, no sticky settings, there aren't even faces in the numbers; it's only ever been you or me. Some of my things are crooked. The strings don't work, the wires are twisted and make the sounds all come out funny. There's a strange buzzing everywhere, it's like Mickey's gray cloud, a cloud Koopa throwing spiked shells from Park Avenue beach to Montrose street. Everything is quiet, consuming, unassuming and still recalcitrant. I'm showing nothing to nobody. Coaxing storm systems and netting foul play and ***** tricks, with my pants around my ankles or my fly unzipped. I'm stinking of this stuff. These sudorific crevices on the insides of my thighs. I'm more or less always pacing. Rocking. Rolling. Small room I'm living room, cadavers I stuff my skinny fingers inside of- cold, wet hollow places I'm seeking skin covered gods in. I'm craving tastes and flavors. I'm looking at these pictures of me, of my face and the clothes I wore, the people that knew me. Where have I disappeared to? Every place that I went, every condition of my humanness has gone. Five minutes past my certainty, squirting hot molten magma from my **** my lips, and my fingertips. Hysterical thoughts and homily. I want just a hello. I want just a hello.
0
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 7:16 PM UTC
hello.
Can I show you how beautiful you are? Can I take out the old photo albums and push my index finger into the faces, the places, and seas? I want to peel back the plastic and remove the square photographs from their sticky setting. I'm alluding to ideas that exist more formidably on the internet- there are no paper photographs, no sticky settings, there aren't even faces in the numbers; it's only ever been you or me. Some of my things are crooked. The strings don't work, the wires are twisted and make the sounds all come out funny. There's a strange buzzing everywhere, it's like Mickey's gray cloud, a cloud Koopa throwing spiked shells from Park Avenue beach to Montrose street. Everything is quiet, consuming, unassuming and still recalcitrant. I'm showing nothing to nobody. Coaxing storm systems and netting foul play and ***** tricks, with my pants around my ankles or my fly unzipped. I'm stinking of this stuff. These sudorific crevices on the insides of my thighs. I'm more or less always pacing. Rocking. Rolling. Small room I'm living room, cadavers I stuff my skinny fingers inside of- cold, wet hollow places I'm seeking skin covered gods in. I'm craving tastes and flavors. I'm looking at these pictures of me, of my face and the clothes I wore, the people that knew me. Where have I disappeared to? Every place that I went, every condition of my humanness has gone. Five minutes past my certainty, squirting hot molten magma from my **** my lips, and my fingertips. Hysterical thoughts and homily. I want just a hello. I want just a hello.
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