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Skaidrum Aug 2015
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I'll map the distance between each breath you take.  Don't go swallowing stars that threatened to give birth to universes within your own lungs, darling.  I won't always be there to watch the constellations tear you apart from inside out.
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****** poetry at 12:09 a.m.

© Copywrite Skaidrum
Tatiana Nov 2014
I'm suffocating.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle my throat closing,
no don't call 911,
there's no reason to.

I'm choking.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle the mucus that blocks my throat,
I can spit it up just fine,
so just keep on walking.

I'm coughing.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle myself doubled over in pain,
with my chest hurting as I try to sit up straight,
so just ignore me hacking up a lung.

I'm breathing.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle hyperventilation without my inhaler,
I don't have to breathe properly to live,
so thanks for just leaving me on the floor.

I'm dying.
But I don't need your help,
it's not like I have no energy to get my inhaler,
you can totally just run out of the room panicking,
it's not like i'm scared too or anything.

I'm angry.
And for some reason,
you can't figure out why.
So leave me alone.
I'm fine now.
I can handle myself.
I don't need your help.
I'm changing the caption 4 years later because it was very angry and I don't carry that same level of anger anymore towards that person.
Except in reference to asthma
Then I'm quite angry
Asthma *****
Stained Glass Mar 13
Someone once said that
  Being asked "Why are you depressed? Life is beautiful!"
     Is like saying "Why do you have asthma? There is so much air!"
       Depression is not "I feel sad because..."
          Depression is "I can't feel happy"
              I think I'm afraid to be happy
                 Because whenever I get too happy,
                    Something bad happens and
                       It's like they care, but then in reality,
                                They don't.
Michael John Nov 2018
i must practise my
flipping guitar
i must *******
to something original..

i must smoke marijuana
cause i have a gammy leg
and asthma..
music and grass

and a hot mug of tea
is there better
in this disorder..
this lost universe..
"I observed that my unvaccinated children were healthier, hardier and more robust than their vaccinated peers. Allergies, asthma and pallor and behavioral and attentional disturbances were
clearly more common in my young patients who were vaccinated. My unvaccinated patients, on the other hand, did not suffer from infectious diseases with any greater frequency or severity
than their vaccinated peers: their immune systems generally handled these challenges very well."  -- Incao's Hepatitis B Vaccination Testimony

"Another point which I document in my presentation... is that there is little or no objective research into the possible adverse effects of vaccines. There has never been a study comparing vaccinated to unvaccinated children. The only explanation for this is bias and political pressure."-- Philip Incao M.D.

" One of the flaws in studies of vaccines is that there are no true placebo groups. The vaccine is
tested in one group of immunized children and is compared to another group of immunized
children." -- Peter Baratosy
⚠️⚠️⚠️ “It is pathetic and ludicrous to say we ever vanquished smallpox with vaccines, when only 10% of the population was ever vaccinated." -- Dr. Glen Dettman. ⚠️⚠️⚠️
Em MacKenzie Feb 4
Hey *******,
you are guaranteed going to need to read this again sometime in the future:
You let someone else’s problems evolve and duplicate into your own,
so much so that you justified tasting Heaven because you felt like you were in ****,
and we both know that your original concept of Heaven is a mirage and a Mudesa of all sorts.

We both knew you offering kindness to this person would only bring you down.
We both knew “fifteen minutes” would turn into three hours,
where your car, your Fortress of Solitude, a machine you feel fully connected to as second nature,
would suddenly be far too small
and the air would be far too heavy.
And instantly, you would do anything to not feel trapped inside a place you consider yours.
I’ll give you this, though,
that even in your worst, over dramatic exaggeration, your dreaded expectation could not compete with the stark reality you faced when she walked into your car.
Twenty minutes late, of course;
no big deal after working a twelve hour overnight shift,
and don’t worry about how it’s Canada and it’s fifteen below right now.
Please, friend, come sit in my car
and feed a fire and create flickering flames,
and don’t forget to remind me every ten minutes:
how I don’t know pain,
how I don’t feel isolated,
how I’ve never let myself hope and be vulnerable, and I’ve absolutely never had my heart ripped out.
How I’ve never longed for a past.
How happy and picture perfect my life turned out to be.
It’s a wild concept,
and an unhealthy nature,
but...
Some people just can’t share their view or reality, their life and the feelings that direct every decision in their life, big or small.
Some people actually believe their emotions and their issues can be a burden to someone else.
Some people convince themselves they don’t need to talk about it, that creative outlets, time and
quiet contemplations might just
do the trick to make them have a somewhat functional daily life.
Some people see other people and can put themselves on a back burner and listen. Listen to hear and understand, not listen to reply.
Some people know that their problems are truly their own.
I would never, for all the money in the world, let mine awaken someone else’s demon.
But I also know that I’m ****** up,
because we all are in our own way,
and if you’re not ****** up-
you are even MORE ****** up,
because you SHOULD be ****** up in this world.

I take you to Tim Hortons even though I was just there ten minutes ago, killing time waiting for you.
And God, how I already ******* hate drive-thru ordering for other people.
But of course, you had to be extremely specific and difficult-
and that’s coming from a very picky person.
Why yes, you mumbled your almost incoherent and unimaginable order and the woman,
who was nothing but polite,
oh yeah, please be rude and snappy when she repeats your nonsense.
I’m not even ordering anything, but I chime in because you can’t focus on another person for longer than three seconds,
but even more off putting,
you weren’t saying a single “please” or “thank you.”
That, that is unforgivable.
You’re stammering to yourself
nonsensical bubbles of half words and drool,
while dropping all your oversized **** in your undersized purse all over the floor of my car...
never mind the fact we’re at the window and it’s $6.34 and you hand me a five.
You become sheepish, and overcompensate your justifications for why you are taking up more than fifteen seconds,
before I grab a toonie from my console plate,
handing it to the woman and thanking her.
Telling her to “have a good day, eh.”
While you act like that was inconvenient for you,
and ignore the sudden fluctuations of anxiety radiating off me.
I’m embarassed for how my Max Rebo blue Mazda
came off in that encounter.

I can only *** you so many cigarettes,
and God, how the attempted “puppy eyes” and “innocent girl” voice when asking makes it so extremely aggrivating,
especially when you permit me to speak and you interrupt me to ask-
I really don’t have many “deal breakers” for people, but I can’t stand being interrupted, and you do it like breathing oxygen,
and whenever someone interrupts me constantly it reinforces that they weren’t listening to begin with.
My mind, my heart, my soul does not matter to you. I’m wonk-wonking in your ears.
By the fourth smoke, you aren’t even asking, but telling and reaching,
because you think I’m on a level of Scrooge McDuck apparently,
and that I can afford to smoke name brand cigarettes.
Common sense; no one can afford $16.00 a day (minimum) to slowly and painfully **** themselves.
I think it’s been three years of you never smoking your own cigarettes when you’re around me.
Three hours and you talk my ear numb,
and I know all your life stories for the seventy-seventh time,
but none of them connect
and there is absolutely no time line.
The Legend of Zelda has a more concievable, linear and believable timeline than your own.
And us LoZ fans all know how notorious and infamous that timeline is.

“Just __ and then I’ll let you go, k? I know you’ve been up at work all night” you say to me,
and it sounds like you’re keeping me as a prisoner,
and more so, it feels like it right now.
But regardless of all this anger, this irritation and aggreviation,
I must have Stockholm Syndrome,
because simultaneously while you dismiss my world and any input I may have,
I still care, I still want you to get better, I don’t want to hear how you took a statistic and turned it into a prognosis,
and how you’re destined to die soon.
Because you’re still you somewhere,
and I see her come out with a witty remark or intelligent banter with me...
and then she fades.
And each flash is quicker than the last.
After three hours you carelessly throw in,
“I don’t want this to be all about me, so how are you doing?”
And I lie, and give you the same answer most people get.
“I’m kinda on autopilot and just coasting to survive. I’m ok.”
I have the few that know the truth,
and that makes surviving worthwhile,
and it saddens me when you tell me that I’m one of the last ones standing.
That it’s gotten to such a point where people do have to slip away from you,
and honestly, I DO get it.
You shouldn’t resent them or blame them,
it’s draining and it chokes me,
and I almost never feel uncomfortable and can look everyone in eye,
yet our time together today is coming to a close and I’m sliding through my iPhone to get some
music on after I get out of here.

And then you let me slip,
you offered me a taste and then throw in how you could “use a little extra cash”
and by the end I felt I deserved it.
No, earned it.
No, needed it,
because Emily is already held together by adhesives
and ****’s fire is making the solids melt.

The few people I have will know
that I genuinely had a good day after detoxing from the scenario,
and embracing the mirage.
That I got a good woman who made me a fine plate of food,
and attempted a backrub; my instant, physical, release from my head.
But then I broke later in the night,
and locked myself out of my own car with all my belongings.
That’s never happened in seven years of owning this car.
It was unpredictable and it was a last straw
and I smashed my snow brush into tiny pieces against a street sign and walked back and forth,
fists clenched, biting lip,
holding tongue,
and primal aggressive instinct to any challenge of my theatrics.
I spent time staring at the wall; a mild asthma attack, not blinking,
and felt myself that the world was out to get me.

I realized later in the night that you stole from me,
and that hurt because you should know you could ask.
It’s not that I don’t have a spine, but I want to live bending it to help people,
but I’m starting to hear the bones *****,
and I constantly have neck pain these days.
But when I realized a twenty was missing when I went to pay the locksmith,
and I know I already paid you more than cost plus “five for the trouble” which was no trouble,
as you had arranged this slip for yourself and I just happened to be in range to come along,
I felt a stabbing pain;
not in the back or heart like one would expect,
but a stabbing pain to my character and your own.
We are friends, you can ask anything of me and I promise,
disregarding Yoda’s famous words,
I will try. I can’t always do, and I won’t promise it to you,
but I will try.
Yet reflecting on the entire three hours,
and even the past two weeks,
the words “twenty dollars” have come up far more than they should.
And for the first time I felt hurt from betrayal, from someone not trusting in me to try and help,
instead of insult from someone thinking they could pull one over on me.
And buying my unintelligent, unobserant front to see true colours.
You should know me better than that, too.

Have no fear though,
as I ranted aloud I assured myself
that I had learned from this.
I had learned that I can’t be someone to someone who doesn’t exist,
and the difference between being used and being taken advantage of,
has only been so blantant once before in my life.
But I immediately said
“This won’t stop me from trying to help in the future, though.”
Everyone and you.
I won’t let this problem evolve and duplicate my own.
I will always try to help, but I’ve been ****** and I’ve always known it.
I won’t let this experience taint a future that I want to paint.
If anything, it just shows me the real you is even further under water,
and while I’m angry and hurt and need a slight break,
I’ll always be a strong swimmer with a heavy lifting arm,
and I’ll still try to pull you up for those gasps of air;
however brief they are
and regardless of the strain it puts on me as I keep treading the water
and fighting the tide.

Overall; I can’t escape this,
and I won’t be like the others and call you toxic and abandon you.
See: “Partner in Crime/Smarter in Time.”
I wasn’t Frankenstein, but I may have pulled a lever or retrieved a few bolts.
I, in conclusion, put myself in this situation in a rational yet extreme
line of thought.

And the music, the amazing songs I had lined up to hype me back up.
It didn’t caress my ears,
instead it passed through my head.
As where I shamelessly groove and dance driving always,
my drive home was spent sitting still,
lifeless eyes fixated on the asphalt ahead of me,
hand to head to keep it up.
I had emotionally and mentally just got the **** kicked out of me.
I prefer the physical equivalent exponentially.
I will always try to help,
but I must draw a line somewhere,
and turning music into just “music” is smack dab perfectly centered in the line.
If you actually made it this far-
1.Thank you
2.I’m sorry.
This was for me, and you just got way too much information:
Future Emily will need this though.
"Crib death" was so infrequent in the pre-vaccination era that it was not even mentioned in the statistics, but it started to climb in the 1950s with the spread of mass vaccination against diseases of childhood. --Harris Coulter, Ph.D.

"These data show that DPT vaccination may be a generally unrecognised major cause of sudden infant and early childhood death, and that the risks of immunisation may outweigh its potential benefits. A need for re-evaluation and possible modification of current vaccination procedures is indicated by this study." – William C. Torch, M.D., Director of Child Neurology, Department of Paediatrics, University of Nevada School of Medicine

"You cannot be in the presence of a profoundly vaccine damaged child and not know that child could be your own. And you cannot try to comfort a mother who has just buried a baby who has died from a vaccine or a disease and not know that you could be the one standing over the grave. When it happens to your child, the risks are 100 percent." – Anonymous

"Vaccination is not necessary, not useful, does not protect. There are twice as many casualties from vaccination as from A.I.D.S." --Dr. Gerhard Buchwald, West Germany, specialist of internal diseases and participant in 150 trials of vaccination victims.

Dr. Michael Odent has written a letter in the JAMA (1994) where his figures show a five times higher rate of asthma in pertussis immunised children compared to non-immunised children. He is also quoted in the International Vaccination Newsletter (Sept. 1994): "Immunised children have more ear infections and spend more days in hospital."

"The public is surely entitled to convincing proof, beyond all reasonable doubt, that artificial immunisation is in fact a safe and effective procedure, in no way injurious to health, and that the threat of the corresponding natural diseases remain sufficiently clear and urgent to warrant mass inoculation of everyone, even against their will if necessary. Unfortunately, such proof has never been given." --Richard Moskowitz, M.D., Journal of the American Institute of Homeopathy, March 1983 (76:7)
Look there, there a full moon hanging above a lousy *******.
And your moans go unnoticed like boring movie scenes.
Kamasutra your name you say? Well, I just assumed you were not that at all.
I see you more spilled cold coffee looking on enviously at tea leaves holding a straight *** conversation in a purple rain teepee.
Somewhere beneath a bed of stars and a sliver skyline falling in free form with a tribe of features, floating down no matter the weather, but to where?
Who knows? But I did notice my mind take the scenic route.
So I take chances and flip a coin, *** up heads down
I beat the odds and win, but what?
Who knows? But moving on right pass the earth’s after birth
and on to the next one, on to the next one
On to the blueprint to why freedom never rings it just sings
In a monotone *** position of undressed flesh
and out of the reach of our dumbfound imagination,
and our hearts that are broke like a lack of money and barely beating,
and our breath that is filled with smoke and barely breathing.
Like chronic asthma in a bent over backward dream taking it up the, who knows?
But I Do like wearing lipstick and catching ****** needs off guard,
as ******* take a life of it’s on. Doing it with or without me
I use to being *******. I grew up in a broken home, America where u at?
With your newly hidden slavery the same thing just different cotton.
They assign jobs to us our children to the state we live to work not work to live.
We do the same thing but make different mistakes.
And two days is not enough to recover from five, this **** is a disgrace
Oh beautiful for spacious skies, where at, who knows?
What I am trying to tell you is heaven has basic desires and a low self-esteem.
Just ask Natureboy the Christ, no ask him can he swim on land since he can walk on the sea.
and what I said got some of you bothered feeling some kind of way
But what would Jesus say if he was here? Forgive her father she knows not what she says.
Maybe Jesus is wrong I know exactly what I do. I am a pusher to this poem.
I will make it snort a ******* line that exactly what I would do.
Burn pictures on the conscious mind fire’s awake now making something better out of itself.
Just like a group of words, no one never thought about grouping together. No, really I don’t know when too much is too much, so I am liable to say things like does God like his face? Then why
doesn’t he show it
Would we judge him bully him if we saw it? Holy ****** baby feet Batman I can’t trust the alphabet or vegetables
This unsustainable way of living and that the government did not take part in those special fireworks done on
9/11. Body parts everywhere and since some time has passed I want to know does anyone care?
But who am I? But a beast in smallness with a mean left hook and have the things the world believe in
Really got me shook. I cannot walk around with the believes and definitions that are not mine.
My beliefs don’t weigh anything so I am not weighed down mentally or emotionally
I listen to the language of the earth because all the other languages are brittle
Nature all about cooperation, taking the good with the bad, and that's fine but you know what is not?
It is how religion aggravates me. I know you believe in God but does he believe in you?
No, because if he did he wouldn’t test you and still you are unable to see the acceptance you seek really come from you.
The Illuminati taught me that, but you know what is really truly interesting?
It is how Hall and Oats is white and of course angel ****.
And again I need to be careful what I say because I will have folks looking at me in the wrong way.
Wishing I would die and burn in heaven, well luckily for them I stay suicidal and I thought up about nine and eleven
Ways I can end it tonight. In death, my mind would be gone and that’s alright.
I will still create frighten poems. I will make my ghost write.
But as we all know dying is not an option and as we can see no fear just caution.
And I stay humble all day every day because I was told having too much pride that is for those who are ***, and happy I am not. I want to see the government put to a stop
A world with no freaking cops, the elite on the bottom and the less fortunate on top.
And my most random camouflaged thoughts open up the eyes of the senile so that they can see now.
What they could not.
A Spoken Word Piece With A Lot Of Passion and Random Thoughts Link Together.
Anonymous One,
The well-woven verse, the brilliant brushstroke,
The singing sculpture, remarkable film -
These are echoes, or so much apple peel,
Sweet, yes, but far from the beauty You reveal.
Reader, imagine if You will, a face,
Beautiful in its proportions, cream-colored grace,
Such as Venus herself might not possess,
But befuddled or bemused, and bodiless.
It might float like moon of white wine on the sea,
Yet it gasps like an asthma patient without an inhaler,
Never knowing even half of what it is to be.
The whole artwork is no less than the entire
Composition of a steady, fulfilled life:
Each gesture, each word, each movement amid strife
Skillfully rendered, each a poem of love,
Or saber fencing with Your beams above.
This poem is included in my book "I Have Been Moved", which is available on Amazon for as little as 14 dollars (paperback).
I see many children in my practice. Some are immunized and some are not, my own children are not.
I see the difference between the immunized and the non-immunized. They're much healthier and
have less infections, colds, otitis media and tonsillitis.

Dr. Michael Odent has written a letter in the JAMA (1994) where his figures show a five times higher
rate of asthma in pertussis immunized children compared to non-immunized children. He is also
quoted in the International Vaccination Newsletter (Sept. 1994): "Immunized children have more ear
infections and spend more days in hospital." [See http://www.whale.to/vaccines/baratosy.html]

— The End —