I kissed him!
Stole his love from within.

A libras spell,
He turned pale.

His soul had left his body.
this wasn't good, I felt naughty.

I wanted to give him back his life, CPR maybe?
His struggle for air drove me crazy!

But a voice told me not to bother,
cuz this was the normal reaction for a fish out of water.

To witness a ritual that takes
only seconds,
over and over again
until perception is changed in one;
maybe the other-
can be like hell,
eating at you and making you ill
day by day,
as valves burst thoroughly
ripping apart and through
your very breathing chest-piece.

And it's taken all this to realize
ive been seeing the wrong colors,
using the wrong crayons
and coloring too neatly within given lines
in this place of perfection in
my eyes.

dismay is felt when opening the newspaper
to read Athena's astral charts
on many occasions her predictions are well out
which tend to make the readers doubt

to-day she stated that all Geminis
were in for an adventure
but she failed to also mention
the possibility of a misadventure

Taurus individuals supposedly
are going to win a truck load of cash
they'll be disappointed
should they not collect a stash

she said all Virgos
would be bidding their time
but how would she know
as few of them can march to a rhyme

this pronouncement she had written large
which told of a Capricorn who'd fly to Mars
yet this person hasn't got a rocket
which can propel him to Mars

here was one that reeled me in
she spoke of a Pisces eating a dog
her info was well out of kilter
we all know that all fishes prefer a frog

Athena was glowing in her outlook
for those Cancer folk saying they'd find a bloke
though none of them are in the market
for finding a bloke

she put in a good line for Scorpios
to be careful whilst using the hose
as they might get the nozzle
stuck to their nose

Libras were given an Athena heads up
not to take their dreams too far  
why would she say that
when we all know that a Libra dreamer always makes par

she stated that Sagittarius ladies
needed to buy a spring party dress
though they've all got wardrobes
full of lovely floral brightness

what do you think of her
Leo chart for November and December
during these months
will they have a holiday to remember

she made mention of Aquarius souls
by way of Rock and Roll
few of those sixties baby bombers
have the legs to now Rock and Roll

finally her is what she telegraphed
for our Aries cousins in Perth
they'd all be reborn on planet Earth
yet none are seeking a rebirth

Athena's predictive Astrology page
is one we'll all need to thoroughly gauge

to be fair
/since we're both libras\
you never did ask.
you only said
"I guess you like me
and I don't know why."

you never did ask
but I wish I'd told you
exactly why I do like you.

It didn't cross my mind until tonight that I could certainly tell you
exactly why
I like you
but perhaps more importantly
I could tell you what I like about you
and you never did ask
but since I'm a few beers deep
/in pursuit of libra-esque fairness,
it's more like seven or eight beers deep, but I've never liked counting that sort of thing\
I could tell you what I don't like about you.

I guess I could start with that first
but I depending on how this next beer hits me, I might have forgotten how badly your dismissal has hurt me by the time I get there.



Against the warnings of a friend I do not trust,
/**** it, she's your coworker, she ***** me when I was thirteen and you might as well know about it\
Against the warnings of your coworker
I trusted you.

I put you on a pedestal next to Buster Posey, Jesus Christ, and Jeff Mangum. You haven't fallen from that perch, but I'm so far below.
At least, I think I am, it's a bit too dark to see beyond the end of my nose right now
/that pile of beer bottles is chuckling at me now\

if you had asked me
instead of wondering

I'd have told you I love your optimism and your work ethic. I was raised catholic, not Protestant, but I believe God smiles on those who work as hard as they can. God and I both smile on you.

/another beer now\

I'd have told you I fell in love with you the moment your hands first wove their way through my hair. It had been quite a long time since I'd felt so truly comfortable, so utterly welcome.

/I'm crying now,
I guess I'll smoke some ***
and try to calm down\

If I'd have been able to do so without crying, I wouldn't have been able to stop telling you why I like you. I'd still be telling you now.

I'd have told you I love how eager you are to speak with everyone.
The old man at the bar could have been your best friend the way you welcomed and listened and laughed with him.

You're so aware of not only the space you take up, but what you leave behind you as you twist and wander and whether it's bullheaded arrogance that delivers you so elegantly through life, or if it's a sort of divine empathy that lets you experience all the love around you, as coal to an engine, as espresso to the child, I don't know what it is exactly,
but I love it.

/that last part didn't make sense, I wish I hadn't smoked ***\
/one day I'll realize that's how I feel every time I smoke ***\


Whether it's because I'm a 24/7 romantic
Or I really do care for you,
I can't tell,
I've forgotten what mean things I had thought up to say to you.
/I can't believe I'd want to hurt you\
/I am a libra, I think libras are supposed to get along just fine, right?\

god forbid you ever read this,
I'm too drunk tonight to try and give it to you
/you wouldn't read it, i bet\
/did you ever read the poem I wrote for you? It wasn't any good but I've thought of you reading it,
sitting cross legged on your mattress, windows open, some vegan snack sitting in your lap, perhaps a friend or lover has kicked it up out of the corner it lays in,
hopefully it makes you smile,
a silly poem
that a silly boy wrote
Because he fooled around and fell in love with you\
But perhaps someday you'll get this this
and I hope it isn't mean,
/I haven't ever wanted to be anything than an easy friend for you, a comforting hand, a steadying smile, a car ride home,\
I'm sorry,
I can't tell.



It was a terrible night.
The night you told me to stop bugging you
I didn't get drunk
So I should have prossesed these emotions by now


and so it goes

when i see postmen delivering letters,
                                   i think they feel ashamed
of having a poet among them rise
to such global prominence,
i could end right now and have reached
an Urban II pulpit, just as he
was getting started...
  i used to admire Mr. Know-how for a time
out of sympathy... but then that slowly died,
only because i found people who
had some respect for learning to tie
their shoelaces, and spell words...
      it turned out to be the most abhorring
form of rebellion,
       i could have written all possible
synonyms of red in acronym, just to
make the use of the thesaurus made for
better use... or said ultra-acronym
variations or red, like: crying-mason...
and you would have hopefully said crimson...
  but let me be clear... he got my attention
in Glasgow... but after a while...
    even if i had a cradle of appeal
i might come off as lousy...
               but still, when i read him write
like this needed to be a dyslexic statement,
i thought he might write something illuminating
in hieroglyphics...
           i wish i had a respect for not spelling
words correctly... grammar **** or not...
                    there's no point playing with genes
if you're not creating a plateau on
the internal organs of fathomability...
  genese don't necessarily translate into memes...
     people with a perfect good set of genes
will only still be football players...
        just gagging for a concussion to show-off
their Achilles bravery... i have heroic
   drinking battles, no one bothers to celebrate
new year's day with me... i found out
the hard way: even the brothels aren't open
on new year's day these day, as Auden might
have predicted, all the lonely hearts go to...
oh right... perhaps it was the male-on-male
orientated brothels that worked throughout the year...
  after a while it's not that you despise the body
for all its necessarily purposes,
      but after a while, the body does so little
that the niqab does so much more,
    after a while the head wearing a kippah
does so little aisatsu, that you start to ridicule
the practice as an excuse to headbang at a rock
concert in a maggot pit...
after a while the hair does so little that the hijab does
so much more...
                  can you imagine a Mongol inventing
a hijab? horse-skin ****** wrapped around your
head... thank god for the silk road and the silkworm
produce from china, or wool from the shepherding
states...
             otherwise? a ******* tragedy...
    it's also true in reverse... buddha curled his
******* using the thumb... but he bluffed
the sign-language and necessarily pokered that one
into sign-language saying: down the middle!
           we had sundials and clepsydras for a reason,
as we also had libras, for a reason.
            should i fear a man with only one book?
or should i fear a beast with only one "word"?
  well, these days the former is true,
    but when lions said more than men in terms
of authority... could could complain it wasn't so?
  let's just imagine, that whatever we write today
will not reach a heritage status of the paintings
in the Lascaux caves.. well-brokered that statement...
since an african mask carved into an Baobab
by a shaman will fetch much more worth
at a tribal convention, than a african mask
enshrined into confusing a baobab with an Acacia
fetch at a gordon gekko's winning prize
for the most caviar rather than sushi being ate.
the point is... i was just thinking of writing a short
introduction to an actual poem i intended...
                   you never expect such things to happen,
esp. given you just escaped building the pyramids
safely rooted in masonry, and having to
     wield some Atlantean imagination
for the hanging gardens of Babylon...
to be later told: oh don't worry, we have people
to build as a colliseum, you stick you
to intellectualism of the four letters...
   and then jesus comes along and about a billion
people are rounded-up talking about salvation
by reading only one book, saved by complicating
only reading this one book, by stating
how many times certain words are used in them,
to ensure everyone after Moses can plagiarise
ancient Egyptian into contemporary Hebrew
(only when Charles II can speak Bulgarian or
Romanian)...            horrid numerology...
oh! oh! there are 20 references to the word pray
in the bible! it must mean something!
   how about? bla blah bla blah....
well... d'uh! blay and blaw: Otis Redding (doughnut /
       ice-cream man)
                               and        Sam Cooke
(don't know much about hissing tories)
    so true too, turns out Abel (blay) was also known
as clay.... even though Cain was the vegetarian...
   so that makes Cain (blaw) the god-wind when
Cain slaughtered Abel and the earth unearth
      a curse that made Cain into a nomad and less and less
into a vegetarian... ah, the Scoots buckled and backed me
up on whether blaw came with the lyrics
      son of a preacherman, and whether my
    rubric arithmetics of sentences could ever chirps
up that smokey blonde Dusty.
   hey man... sit up for 48 hours, write about
writing on napkins, and then have a whiskey,
and watch 2 gloomy days turn into clear-skies
  and a visible sun, setting.

Trataron de casar a Dorotea
Los vecinos con Jorge el extranjero,
De mosca en masa gran sepulturero
Y el que mejor pasteles aporrea.
Ella es verdad que es vieja, pero fea,
Docta en endurecer pelo y sombrero;
Faltó el ajuar y no sobró dinero,
Mas trájole tres dientes de librea.
Porque Jorge después no se alborote
Y tabique ventanas y desvanes,
Hecho tiesto de cuernos el cogote,
Con un guante, dos moños, tres refranes
Y seis libras de zarza, llevó en dote
Tres hijas, una suegra y dos galanes.

i only read poetry because it's so accessible, a perfectly formed statue; i only read poetry because it's so accessible, and yet so easily forgettable, so self-embodying in that sense of forgetting; well obviously you will not cradle a culture of poetics akin to a worth of fiction, and canonise people into a sainthood likewise, should they read a major work of fiction and compare it to the same feat having read a scarcity on a page, as based on mass appreciation comparison; a poem isn't exactly a rite of passage, it's a process of embodying yourself, to be dropped into the depths... a novel ensures you're dropped into the shallows (the hugging narration of lullabying a reader to sleep), which is why it's so culturally significant in the medium of replicas / imitations; poems influence the stockbrokers of creativity, and they range from being painters to being philosophers.

liken any period of history
to the days we know
how to scribble down a date for,
i'm sure the glutton vacuum
will lie to you about any time period
of your choosing,
and should it not be a glutton,
it will be a skeletal short-story,
hardly a history book's worth of
storytelling;
but like now, the world in impromptu
satisfying,
opened sylvia plath's collected
poems on the poem *the times are tidy,
started reading it, got caught up
in lizard imagery,
Libras of skin ceramics,
lizard skins akin to well dressed tables -
right now i feel a woman kicking
me in the ******* -
judo chop!
skins of lizards finely attuned to
candlelight suppers...
anyway...
started reading sylvia's poem,
by god the solitary gas chamber of hers,
she was "supposed" to put a chicken in there
to bake at 180° for two hours, not her head!
oh god, not her head!
the entire Auschwitz is lodged in that head of her's!
anyway...
so i started reading her poem
unlucky the hero born,
in this province of the stuck record
and out of nowhere, by the end of
the second form fireworks go off...
i mean it, a neighbour sets off fireworks
on good friday,
phosphorescent blue and yellow,
and that stench of gunpowder all around,
you'd think a horde of mongolians were riding
on the high tide of conquest and hopes of ****...
but you never hear of mongolia in the press,
i guess the communist experiment got the better
of the world, isolated them like Idaho or Alaska...
it started there mind you, i spent an hour
in the u.c.l. library researching the ****...
but i mean... what timing!
pure transcendental ***! starting to read a sylvia
plath poem and then fireworks...
you don't get this much magic even if mermaids
or fairies or godmothers exist.

Como Ganar Musculo Para Hard Gainers Parte 1


Cada persona tiene un diferente tipo de cuerpo por naturaleza. Hay personas con el metabolismo alto, otras que acumulan mucha grasa porque no queman tantas calorías, personas con huesos grandes, pequeños, etc. En este caso, lo que voy a presentar es como ganar masa muscular para los hardgainers (las personas que son muy flacas por tener un metabolismo alto y quemar muchas calorías naturalmente sin necesidad de ejercicio). Por lo general estas personas tienen un bajo porcentaje de grasa, su cuerpo les pide alimentos que proporcionen energía y ellos mismos son energéticos. Si eres de estas personas, probablemente los músculos se te marcan muy rápido, pero no son grandes en tamaño y nunca has tenido problema con ser gordo. Pues yo soy una de estas personas. Y todas las cualidades que mencione arriba son ciertas en mi caso. Hace mas de 5 meses empeze un desafio conmigo mismo de ganar masa muscular. Hasta el momento, llevo 15 libras ganadas en músculo. De 135 libras a 150. Aquí les comparto lo que he aprendido que me ha ayudado a hacer lo que he logrado hasta el momento.


La primera cosa que tienes que hacer es identificar el tipo de cuerpo que tienes. Identificar que tipo de cuerpo tienes por naturaleza te ayudará a ver que pasos tienes que seguir para la meta que quieres y que plan hacer para llegar ahí. Si no tienes esta información desde un principio puede ser que el camino se te haga muchas veces más difícil y que no mires resultados. Lo que puedes hacer para identificar esto es usar el Phy Rate:




Esto te lo calculan muchas diferentes marcas de pesas. Yo, por ejemplo, estaba en 8 hace unos meses. De acuerdo a Tanita.com  la “clasificación física 8 es un cuerpo delgado y musculoso. Esto significa que tiene una cantidad baja de grasa corporal y un nivel estándar de masa muscular.” Sin embargo, esto fue después de hacer gimnasio y subir de peso durante varias semanas, así que probablemente empecé en 7. Ahora estoy en 5. La “clasificación física 5 es estándar. Un tipo de cuerpo estándar significa que tiene niveles promedio de grasa corporal y masa muscular. Las personas con un tipo de cuerpo estándar pueden progresar mucho cuando comienzan a hacer ejercicio.” Y dependiendo de donde te encuentres, el plan que es recomendado seguir.


Sin embargo, tienen que entender que la naturaleza de su cuerpo no define hasta dónde pueden llegar con él. Una persona con sobrepeso y una persona extremadamente flaca puede llegar a tener un buen fisico si le meten dedicación y las técnicas adecuadas. Así que, identificar el tipo de cuerpo que tiene cada uno es una forma de hacer el proceso más eficiente, no una forma de buscar excusas. Porque todos pueden llegar a donde quieren.

En conclusión, encuentra el tipo de cuerpo que tienes y en base a esto haz tu plan dietético y de ejercicio para llegar a tu meta. No te detengas con excusas de que no tienes un cuerpo naturalmente propicio a un buen físico porque todos los cuerpos pueden ser moldeados. Todos podemos llegar a nuestras metas.

star signs are typically not for me,
but she is a Libra

this girl is genuine
no one can break that,
a lot of **** comes her way
but she can shake that

she is a Libra

the love that she carries is pure
you could never ask for more.
morning, afternoon or evening,
whatever time of day she will take you for a tour.

get your mind out the gutter
I'm not talking ****** or lust.
I'm talking about a soul that understands.
a friend that'll lend you a hand.

she is a Libra

the platonic energy she carries will have you left in a stutter.
conversations, laughter and a vibe
like a queen bee leaving her hive.
without her presence,
there will be no essence.

put these points into play
and try have the cheek to tell me there is another way.

she is a Libra.

the friendship she carries is a bridge,
connecting us across any distance.
however, many cars come in between.
for instance:

traffic wears down the road
mirroring the fatigue in her eyes.
a tired feeling is starting to arise.
now as you can see
there is a heavy load of doubt,
a crushing weighing on her soul,
weighs her down.

guilt and worry,
boulders on the road ahead,
blocking her way
leaving a trace of foreshadowing
for her day.

over thinking.
questioning every decision she makes,
all for the day to come,
where she truly breaks.

she is a Libra.

It is not just a libra that finds it hard to understand.
at the end of the tunnel there is something bright.
is it the light?
another pathway coming to sight?
you will never know,
unless you get in that car.
buckle your belt.
roll down your window.
to enjoy that breeze that you once felt.

she is a Libra!

the road may seem long,
and doubts may arise,
but remember your strength,
a fire that never dies.
your friends are your compass,
guiding you true,
we will face every challenge,
and see you through.

She is a Libra

I am not one to talk about your emotion,
but as a friend I have that devotion,
to give you motion,
like a day at the beach I allow you to be one with the ocean.
Think of me as an open ear.
always there for you when you have a fear,
I'll listen close, without a sneer,
and offer comfort, to help you persevere.

Libras are intellectual.
Libras are diplomatic..
Libras bring harmony.

And the Libra I know brings peace and grace.

Splattered in concrete like decent ommissions
Like ethereal gods
Like rotted pine and faulty seeds
Like withered lungs & crusty pig ****
Like  laughing dogs and cunty cats
Like frolicking lilyhammers
Like ****** bullmen
Like sexless libras
Like tight stewardess *** in the 90s
Like a poptart tomorrow
Like the last liberal
Conservative
Connected to the wifi
Take a stige
And laugh
Why not lol
Ok
   Ok ok
This is like myself

Tú, Fuensanta, me libras de los lazos del mal;
queman mi boca exangüe de Isaías los carbones;
por ti me dan los cielos profundas contriciones
y el ensueño me otorga su gracia episcopal.
Para comer las viandas del convite nupcial
en que se han desposado nuestros dos corazones,
tomo el báculo y ciño mis pies y mis riñones
cual se hacía en las fiestas del Cordero Pascual.
Las llaves con que he abierto tu corazón, mis llaves
sagradas son las mismas de Pedro el Pescador;
y mis alejandrinos, por tristes y por graves,
son como los versículos proféticos de un canto,
y hasta las doce horas de mis días de amor
serán los doce frutos del Espíritu Santo.

against gargantuan dreams
the smallness of truth
cause for astonishment

weight which side
sometimes is very important
human made precision libras

we wanted to know the time
we sliced day at hour
we said that get 24

we have been travelling
determining the life of measurements

Que cínico eres,
hoy me quieres imputar todo cargo sin razón,
porque esto a lo que tu le llamas relación,
hoy le di por terminado.

Que insolencia la tuya,
de querer exculpar tu falta,
tu ausencia en mis piernas,
una mirada compasiva,
una conquista con tu sonrisa,
una llamada al medio día,
solo para decirme…¡Te amo negra mía!

Que descarado eres,
al pensar que esta travesía que ha sido
nuestra relación no tenía fecha de vencimiento.
Que me rompió con tu silencio.
Entre olvidos y reclamos he vivido siete años;
que si soy muy dura,
que si soy muy fuerte,
que si fuese más dócil,
tu harías el intento de quererme siempre.
Que si estoy muy gorda,
que si jodona,
que si ya ni mi sazón se te antoja.

Y en eso años
me fui desgastando,
Y poco a poco desilusionando,
Y ese amor que me enternecía y por el cual luche tanto se fue desboronando,
cuando entendí tu irrisoria y cobarde manera de amar....
rompiéndome a mí las alas--para tu volar.

Así, que de esto no se hable más!

Ahí te dejo mis extras libras y mi irreverente forma de amar.

El sazón me lo llevo.......
hay alguien lo quiere probar!

LeydisProse
12/16

Quot libras in duce summo ?
JUVENAL.


C'est une chose grande et que tout homme envie
D'avoir un lustre en soi qu'on répand sur sa vie,
D'être choisi d'un peuple à venger son affront,
De ne point faire un pas qui n'ait trace en l'histoire,
Ou de chanter les yeux au ciel, et que la gloire
Fasse avec un regard reluire votre front.

Il est beau de courir par la terre usurpée,
Disciplinant les rois du plat de son épée,
D'être Napoléon, l'empereur radieux ;
D'être Dante, à son nom rendant les voix muettes.
Sans doute ils sont heureux les héros, les poètes,
Ceux que le bras fait rois, ceux que l'esprit fait dieux !

Il est beau, conquérant, législateur, prophète,
De marcher, dépassant les hommes de la tête ;
D'être en la nuit de tous un éclatant flambeau ;
Et que de vos vingt ans vingt siècles se souviennent !...
- Voilà ce que je dis : puis des pitiés me viennent
Quand je pense à tous ceux qui sont dans le tombeau !

Le 16 juillet 1829.

To the Libra who sparked a bit of happiness in my path.
That person came to me on a spontaneous act.
We connected,
Chopped it up as if we knew each other for years.
We're libras.
We clicked,
Had things in common.
They made me feel good while also fearful.
I knew they weren't mine,
But I couldn't get enough.
I would have my suspicions,
They were outweighed by the bond we formed the more we spent time alone...

I weigh out my decisions on Libras scales
and hope to god the stars
show me a ******* sign
Nothing in this universe
Is as Devine
As you my darling
I could lap you up
Like a milky galaxy
Explosive like
Nebula on my tongue
Tasting every ounce
Of your brilliance
Your doubts your fears
Your beautiful ******* resilience
But the universe plays
Cruel tricks on me
It shows me affection
Always in the worst ways
The least expected
Secret midnight kisses
In the form
Of a dangerous entity
So I bottle it up all
And throw it to a vicious sea
This is one love
That just can never be