"luckily" poems
even a pencil has fear to
do the posed body luckily made
a pen is dreadfully afraid
of her of this of the smile’s two
eyes….too, since the world’s but
a piece of eminent fragility.
Well and when—Does susceptibility
imply perspicuity,or?
shut
up.
Seeing
seeing her is not
to something or to nothing as much as
being by her seen, which has got
nothing on something as i think
,did you ever hear a jazz
Band?
or unnoise men don’t make soup who drink.
31.3k
Under the sheets of emotional armor,
A shy little girl masquerades as a martyr.
She’s the Queen of Deceit with her lies getting smarter,
While every tale told draws her self even farther
From finding out why she’s emotionally bothered
By all of the men in her life: like her father
Who only was trying the best for his daughter
And striving to be something more than a pauper
But coming up short. Who knows how much harder
He’d try if she wasn’t an argument starter?
The guilt and the shame from the family slaughter
Has made her insane and continues to bar her
From finding out just what the world has to offer.
Luckily she won’t have to be here much longer;
In fairy-tale land, there's nothing can harm her.
She suddenly finds herself all alone
With nobody’s thoughts to address but her own.
This is the time when she’d pick up the phone,
Demanding a savior to hear her bemoan
About all the problems that she’s ever known,
But what she doesn’t know is a friend can’t atone
For the lack of a man with his patience to loan
To a lost little girl whose bad temper is known.
All she needs is a strong one that doesn’t condone
All the treacherous lies and the hatred she’s shown.
It’s hard to deny all the reaping she’s sewn.
She’ll have to tread soft lest her cover is blown
And everyone finds out she still hasn’t grown
Through the hundreds of tempers and tantrums she’s thrown.
Hopefully soon she can bury the bone
And calm herself into a nostalgic zone
Where smiles and candles were filling her home
And love and affection were all that was loaned.
Enlightenment comes when you realize you’re prone
To the wrath of the heartache that comes with the throne.
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 8:07 AM UTC
The only proper way to be a conversationalist is to convince yourself that you’re boring. If you can strip back the hard shell of the ego, and look down on yourself from the eyes of an apathetic God, you will likely (and hopefully) see just how boring you really are. It isn’t a sin to be boring, in fact there are many advantages to honest self-depreciation.
The main advantage, is the way you approach a conversation. “Interesting” people find it difficult to silence the affected score-keeper that dominates their internal dialogue and ruins any chance of an honest and engaged conversation. It is the voice that reminds you to show interest with your body language, and keep a dumb happy gaze laser pointed into their eyes. This dialogue is obsessed with authenticity and genuine conversation, and therefore a natural sociopath.
Luckily, you are the stunning definition of boredom, an extracted dictionary cut-out of un-interesting, and nobody could possibly give a rats-ass what you have to think—least of all the Voice that controls the inner-dialogue. That Voice has packed it up to find a more interesting vessel…maybe the person standing across from you in conversation.
Because you are so boring, and they are the Oxford personification of intellect and fascination, you should pay careful attention to what they say—no time to worry about how they’re perceiving your reaction to whatever it is they’re saying. You are too busy to notice what sort of body language you may or may not be using to validate their half of the conversation. Instead, your time is spent carefully hanging on their every word, digesting it and projecting the whole bit into a colourful scene in your imagination. Instead, you’re too lost in the excitement of their infinitely more interesting life and impossible wealth of knowledge offered to you with each word that they speak. Instead, you are actually listening to the words that come out of their mouth and not the ones that speak to you from the inside of your own mind.
This is what it means to be in conversation. This was the point of our social nature. And in a world of needy social-media junkies grabbing at the cuffs of potential ‘followers’ and ‘likes’ and trendy passer-by’s, the last thing anyone needs is the high-pitched whine of another “interesting” millennial.
Lucky for you, you boring sack of yawning sloths, that you aren’t interesting too.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 6:13 PM UTC
The tide collects it all by morning;
The drama and the ***** napalmed across the path.
The scenes at second warning for most had been swept away
Before they wiped the sand from their shoes.
Empty cans of Dutch and Tuborg slouched on the dunes
Are tight-lipped about the Velvet Strand's secret ecosystem;
An underground microcosm;
A peripheral cluster of seething emotions drowned.
Memories of those years - although some expired,
The vestiges take pride of place - hold a cosmic clump of smells,
Tastes, firsts, goosebumps, hangovers, and ends.
I never before understood what I was holding on to.
Winters down in the shelters nearly killed us but we
Huddled through the cold, lit cheap firelogs and
Found our oblivion. It didn't take much for me to develop
A stagger - tolerance for a lot of things was learned later.
I narrowly recall my first taste of poor judgement and
Hazy-headed stargazing. Six cans of Stonehouse
Dry cider - most of which ended up on the hillside -
Was a ridiculous endeavour that will always be sublime.
At the heart of it, I did it to impress a girl;
The one every boy has or has had that sticks;
Who holds your firsts and your hands and makes
Things simple if only for her complexity;
The one that never fails to bring upon digression when
Pens are involved. Revisiting reminiscence on a jarring note,
I think of my Junior Cert exams and a cross-dressed man
Exposing himself to two uniformed boys behind the public toilets.
This one doesn't stir the joy of the others.
This one I wish would dissolve;
An ugly, awkward blotch on a childhood.
Luckily fondness trumps disgust when recalling that place
Because of sunrises and sunsets absorbed from the roof.
The Summers spent jumping the gap and drowning in the
Heat of the sun were everything.
The fugitive sand between our toes and under finger nails
Became an accepted nuisance, a part of the territory;
A lingering grain or two to drag you back.
I miss waking up with the smell of last night's faded fire.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 8:22 PM UTC
i still remember the amount of butterflies that pounded my chest the first time i saw you
i counted each one to make sure none of them were lying
you looked at me like i had just changed the equilibrium of your universe
and talked to me so gently i had to read into every word
each word was like a novel, more interesting then the last
you told stories about passion, love, and loyalty
but managed to giggle your way through each stanza
while i just stood there, waiting for the time i could throw in my two cents
but your words were more like dollars, even larger bills
you were so rich with so much excitement, i couldn't help but think
i wonder if this person could ever love someone like me
i played the lottery for 1 week straight, hoping that my ticket would get me a plane seat with the destination being your heart
see i could have flown to fuji, hawaii or any of those places, but you were much more beautiful then any white sand beneath my feet
luckily when i sat down that night to watch the news and they called out my number
i jumped out of my seat and tried to pack as small as possible
because i knew that this was gunna be an adventure
but i had to have more room for you then for me
ever since then, i cherished everytime i get to look in your eyes.
everytime you wrapped your fingers around mine,
i feel like a baby covered in fresh sheets
tucked in so tightly that there was no possible way I couldn't have a good sleep
oh i love how you sleep, your lips so plump i can tell you kiss the dreams that make you feel happy
how you curl up against me, thinking i was pillow
but I just sit there, watching you, loving you and missing you even though your still here.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 11:47 PM UTC
Slipping into my apron,
Hungry in body and soul
Humming as a song played...
I grab my knife and chop-board
Unsure of what to cook
Strange inspirations possess me
Filling me with *****
My kitchen becomes a stage
In my hands- a plectrum and fretboard
Silver utensils- my live audience!*
As I play divine recipes
Strumming master acoustic chords
Chopping fresh, colorful vegetables.
I dash to the remote,
Punch "Repeat" and dash back on stage
Landing on E♭ minor,
Scaling impossible notes,
I slice with razor-sharp plectrum,
On onions and other root chords
My fret arrayed with colors,
Of spinach, lettuce, tomatoes
Carrots, potatoes, olives
Pepper, cabbage and cucumbers.
I hear a thunder of applause
As I ignite the cooker
Butter sizzling in the hot pan
A staccato of sharp notes,
*Ready to modulate innocent vegetables
Through spicy aromatic crescendos!*
I fight hard to suppress a sneeze,
No sneezing on-stage! Unprofessional!
Multitudes of seconds rush by and…
Voila!!!
I stand for a moment
Salivating, awed at my bravura!
Wishing I could hang it on my wall
Tis beautiful like art
But I can’t eat this cake and have it!
So I dig in…
Heaven and earth kiss for a moment
L U S C I O U S!!!
Luckily, it didn’t taste nauseating
Like my last attempt.
No time for ceremonies
I munch from pan to mouth
Pausing for what may pass for a prayer,
I relish every bite!
Not that I’m a foodie or something,
But nothing beats this combo-
Of good food and soul music.
And yes,
*Music is indeed food to the soul!*
I devour, in view- the next meal...
© Raphael Uzor
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
She was only a child, the summer of '15
she had the world on a string, her heart
so enclosed in a boys hands, she could never
touch it.
She had dreams, flailing around at the seams,
when it was time to follow a new endeavor
her string seemed to tear, along the middle.
She had insecurities, tall enough to
reach out and choke her dead.
She had no idea,
her heart would have scurried at the first
sight of lust,
and forget the first
one she had.
She had insecurities, enough to crack her
porcelain skin.
She showed them off, like a new
depressing outfit, like a filthy rag.
But when she did, you told her,
"You're a *****
She had insecurities, enough to **** you off.
Luckily, enough to **** her off too.
My insecurities aren't something
to determine my charisma by,
try again.
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC
We are each born
A box full of pieces
But as the years pass
We are faultily rearranged
Jammed into wrong spaces
Lost under the couch
And as the years pass
We look less of what we were
And now more of who we are
Luckily, unlike puzzles
Our pieces can be replaced
Our cut outs can be reshaped
And even if we are misplaced
Someone will put you back together
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 3:01 PM UTC
I asked my mother for a glass kaleidoscope,
but instead she handed me three shots of wine
and a field guide to running galactic bases,
which I guess is her way of selling dreams
at low prices. I have yet to understand a coffee shop's symmetry,
so I embrace the scrupulous company of a dragon-riding-a-butterfly.
One spin around the Milky Way leaves the butterfly
with holey wings and the dragon vomiting in my make-shift kaleidoscope.
The apple tree in the corner of the living room ruins the symmetry
of the space and I have to chug another glass of wine
to make up for the peach tree I couldn't dream
about and another wrong note sung by the basses.
The song's in too low of a key, which is the basis
behind the evil chinchilla's plan to mass-produce butterfly
farms as part of a larger goal to pillage the dreams
of dreamers. Luckily, we all have a handy-dandy kaleidoscope
and a bag (or two) of bitter-tasting wine
stolen from their boxes -- too much symmetry.
My brother put a block on local news; the symmetry
of our county's border was too much for me to bear. He bases
his action (when mother asks) on the wine
he didn't drink, so I throw the broken butterfly
out the window where it lands on my nephew's spinning kaleidoscope.
He doesn't know it yet, but that drum he's banging will envelop his dreams.
A hike to the top of the cliff (a leap) re-energizes my dreams
and I still can't relate to the maple leaves and their symmetry,
but at least I can look through a lampshade at the kaleidoscope
of trees dancing below me. There are seven thousand bases
yet to run and they still haven't caught the butterfly,
so a boy yells, "Drink!" and I take another sip of wine.
The dragon and chinchilla are tipsy from the wine
at this point and discuss the difference between dreams
and electricity while my mother sautés the butterfly
in ice cream and abstract ideas. The symmetry
of my right ankle is still a bother, so I tell the basses
to sing a quarter tone flat while I collide a scope.
Off goes dragon-with-butterfly (once again) and I finish the wine.
I make my nephew a chinchilla-skin kaleidoscope and rinse the rocks stained with dreams.
My mother comments on the apple tree's symmetry while the trees below keep running bases.
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 9:27 AM UTC
I may not do things traditionally
But I'll get them done eventually
If they're the things that are right for me
I'll be okay and set myself free.
In this life of turbulent strife
pitted and ripe with rotten tripe
a sunlight bright pains my sight
but your soothing ice cools my vice
The aid you paid is not ready made
it gives me hope I'm not just a dope
your love is more than a pity rope,
slivered and raw it gives me splinters
But luckily i'm in for a treat
more than a friend sent to mend
oh yes, you're more, my candy store
settle my sweet tooth you randy *****
unwrap the rainbow you insane *****
ride the rhythm of my *** prism
a rod shaped crystal built like a missile
cocked locked and loaded it cant miss-ya.
explodin' and remoldin' the fabric of time
an infinite blanket wraps us entwined
in a frantic romantic purely satanic
ritual of reality, the utmost sensuality.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 11:51 AM UTC
This is not goodbye - but ‘see you soon’
You left us one dark afternoon
Our time’s run out but then again
I wouldn’t change a single thing.
The laughs we had, the happy times
The years of banter, jokes and rhymes.
Those special moments when we knew
We were meant to be, our love was true.
A man of few words but a massive heart
Dignified, loyal and fun from the start
With your ‘Sid James’ laugh and mother-in-law jokes
(Luckily these were saved for the blokes).
Husband, brother, father, grandad and son
You were loved so much by everyone
I’m so grateful for the years that we had together
The memories, laughter. I will love you forever
There’s a hole left behind in my life but I know
You’re no longer in pain and I must let you go
Just remember that I love you to the moon
This is not goodbye - but just ‘see you soon’
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
The pressure’s building up
I feel like soda that’s been dropped.
I feel like I’m about to explode
And I know that soon I’ll pop.
I know what’s about to happen
And I need to escape this room.
Where I go, I don’t know.
But I need to flee the impending doom.
I need to get to the clinic.
There I know I’ll be fine.
They always knows what to do;
But can I make it in time?
But no, it’s too late.
My soda bottle has blown.
I am no longer able to move, for
The seed of anxiety has grown.
Now I’ve collapsed, and
My rational side has died.
I can’t handle this-make it stop!
My strength is again being tried.
All the techniques I’ve memorized
Have completely flown my mind.
All the things I have prepared
Are suddenly unable to find.
“Don’t forget to just breathe!”
Ah, yes, the mantra of those “helpful” ones.
Well, here’s a newsflash for you-
Being told that helps NONE!
My lungs are overworking now,
And my heart is beating fast.
And every single breath I take
I fear it might be my last.
My hands have spiders in them.
My brain has gone offline.
My vision’s getting foggy;
Please- just don’t pass out this time.
My mind is leaving my body
And it’s floating freely in air.
I’m no longer able to feel anything
Please help me; I’m so scared.
Now I’m descending back to my body
And I can feel every atom around me.
It’s too much-make it stop!
Why can’t anybody hear my plea?
Luckily I calm down
Before my monster gets his way.
He’s returning back to hiding now
But I know he’ll soon come back to play.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 2:05 PM UTC
My poem is called how to be forced into a talent show.
It's very easy to be forced into a talent show when you're me.
No, I am not saying, "Ooooo" look at me I am Michael Ryan and I am the most talented person in the world.
I'm more saying, "oooo" look at me, I'm such a nice person that I will do your talent show, even though I don't want to.
Yes, that is what I am really trying to say, but not in a conceited kind of way, because that's not me.
I was forced into this talent show from the very beginning.
The very beginning, the very first sign up day.
and I thought "hmm I don't have any talent", and she was like oh yes you do, well of course I believe her.
And from that moment I've felt slightly uneasy, because to be honest she can't be there every day to tell me "hey you have talent."
And to be honest all I'm doing is a SPOKEN WORD poem, which is pretty much just me talking.
What a talent that must be...but not really.
Then my friend tried to jump on board with me to do a duet of a poem, so I was forced even more in to this situation.
But luckily that person changed their mind and so I was just stuck with my original oh you have talents person stringing me along into this over thought situation.
Just to let you know I did eventually try to tell them hey I think I'm not gonna do(but then they cut me off), and told me once again you got talents, and please please please do my talent show.
So of course I can't say no, that's not what a nice guy would do, which I am.
And this is what came to me, how about I just write about how one is forced to be doing this in front of a group of people, even though you already said no soooo many times.
And to be honest this is terrifying, because I just came up with this, 30mins ago.
Even though I sat for many hours thinking what to write, it just never felt well right.
And ugh seriously this is so stressful, that I really do wonder why I am even up here.
I could be sleeping right now, but instead I've been convinced to do this.
And there's no guarantee anyone or myself will even like this.
But sleep, **** I know I would like to fall into that right now.
Just dreaming, peacefully, to be sleeping and not on a stage, being gawked at by some strangers.
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 10:55 PM UTC
It's late again and the room is dim
with candle lights taking over the night.
I'm swallowed in this empty space
counting the days.
How many moons must pass by
before I finally can fall asleep?
She no longer
is enough.
I've grown old.
I've grown slow.
I find my time lost in memories,
but I think it's now my turn to find someone
who looks at me like I'm glittering.
Show me the way,
Show me the signs,
I'm forgetting how to read.
Will I win,
Will, I walk,
I've seen this road before.
I've just never made it down to the end.
Luckily, the stars saw my grief and made amends with me.
They've kept me in the dark for so long,
and now are finally guiding me
through this terrain.
Through this rain.
Through the night.
Until I find someone who can carry me back
to the candle lights.
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 10:00 PM UTC
once I've been told,
'til these roses turn old
and my earrings tarnish their gold
my hands are what you will hold
since then, gazes went fiery
my palms weren't as sweaty
heart beating like crazy
my eyes were never teary
my poems have seen happiness
oh, dear God, I know I've been blessed
playlists were still sad, but less
calmed my waves with your caress
and in every relationship I've had
I've always anticipated for the bad
but you never made me go mad
and luckily, I was never sad
happiness with you in sight
you made me shine so bright
you embodied every winning fight
still smitten, never something so right
my words cherished you deeply
you might looked perfect, seemingly
my thoughts have suffered politely
made me look dumb intimately
have you realized
that I make zero sense?
because all of these
are written in past tense.
Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 3:15 AM UTC
There are hundreds of stereotypes. In my opinion, the most true one is about cheerleaders. Honestly, every cheerleader I have ever met is a ***** They will tear you down to where you're nothing and you hate yourself. I have had a bad experience with a cheerleader. The reason she got mad at me was because I ACCIDENTALLY stepped on the back of her flip flop. I apologized but she didn't care and gave me a ***** look. Luckily, I have a pretty good friend in that class and he kind of stuck up for me and called her a name. She definitely lived up to that stereotype though. Maybe it's just pointless high school ******** I don't know. I ******* hate her.
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 11:50 AM UTC
Some days you feel like you need to write something.
I know I'm not relatable, don't be too worried.
But today is one of those days where writing nothing,
Feels like betrayal hurried.
Some days you wish you could disappear.
I can't decide whether today is one of those days or not.
My crush disappears at 1:55 I fear,
But it's not like I ever enter his thoughts.
But some days aren't like that.
Some days you think there's nothing at all.
When in reality your mind is filled with chitchat.
You feel ready to fall
Right out of your seat
But that's alright.
Lunch sounds kind of boring,
But I suppose it's the people there who count.
My friends are always kind of alluring
They're some of the best people I've found.
You think someday someone will sit next to you
And you'll know it's them,
But you realize few
People find it's them.
I'm one of those people who finds the empty parts of the hallway to walk in.
Luckily, my friends are too, so I'll see them there, in the empty parts of the hallway.
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 10:17 AM UTC
*I'm too fixated in each moment -
Each moment feels so intense,
I'm lost
On the dark side of the moon,
And nothing here has any warmth,
Worth or substance ~
Nothing here makes any sense.
Even my own shadow has left me.
The Monsters, still lurking
In the darkness,
Have stolen all of my hopes
And dreams away,
I can hear the wolves,
They are hauntingly howling -
There's nowhere safe that I can run to,
On this, here, dark, dreary day.
There will be no stars
To light up the pitch-black night-skies,
They have already fallen,
Just like the Angels
That I once loved and knew,
Everything that I once held onto
As sacred, has been molested -
I've been abandoned, once again;
Hell, again, I am being forced
To walk through.
Alone, I was born and raised,
Only my pain has been consistent-
It has held my hand
Throughout my entire life.
At some point, somehow,
I stupidly gave birth
To expectations,
Luckily, I woke up
And divorced reality,
Hence becoming solitude's
Dedicated and loving wife.
On the dark side of the moon
Compassion, loyalty and trust
Are nonexistent.
Evil dwells in almost every man
And woman,
Each with his or her own agenda,
Each with his or her own selfish plan.
Saviors do not exist,
Superheroes all wear masks,
Unconditional love is but an illusion,
Here, I revert to relying solely
On the harshness of reality,
For, the truth, it always exposes
And unmasks.
The dark side of the moon
Is a very lonely, isolating place,
In which to dwell,
There is no sunshine,
No stars or Angels -
The only light visible
Comes from the flames
Of the evildoers'
Raging fiery hell!
Placed here against my will,
No lush green valley in sight,
Taken away
From the divinity of nature,
I was cruelly robbed
Of my radiant life-giving daylight.
Doomed for being too real,
Too open and too honest,
Doomed for loving too much.
Doomed for believing in superheroes,
Doomed for allowing a human
To become my crutch.
Doomed for being too empathetic,
Doomed for being too sincere.
Doomed for being too kind
And too generous,
I'm doomed, abandoned here.
I blame only myself
For allowing my intuitive awareness
And intelligence to fade away
Like the stars that once adorned
Every exquisite night-sky,
I blame only myself
For not using the blessed insight
Of my third eye.
I'm too fixated in each moment,
Each moment feels so intense,
I'm too passionate about life
To give up and remain imprisoned
On the dark side of the moon...
But I'm too emotionally weak
And disappointed to jump the fence.
By Lady R.F. (C)2018*
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 12:27 AM UTC
I got on a train not knowing
Where I was going.
Platform one
Off I run.
Very nearly at the first stop
Mum said, ‘What a bottle of pop!’
Of course! Nan’s fault, too many sweets
But I loved my Nan and all her lovely treats.
I could see up and coming was the second halt,
Moods start swinging, of course! it’s my fault.
Mum gives advice, I still wasn’t listening,
Oh, but look at his eyes glistening.
Last stop. Hit on the breaks!
Luckily, I’d learnt from my mistakes.
I finally decided to take on Mum’s advice.
Time for tea and cake. Do you want a slice?
Mar 12, 2012
Mar 12, 2012 at 12:22 PM UTC
White boy
With your inherent privilege
Straight.
White.
Boy.
Privilege.
Please, make another joke
About ****** harassment
No, really
It's funny right?
Especially because you're joking that
Your male coworker is sexually harassing you
Gay jokes are funny too, huh?
Ironically,
That's the same male coworker
Who I had to explain
Just hours beforehand
How the ****** encounter he described
Did not include informed consent
How fitting.
So,
White boy,
I'm curious how you'll fare
After I told the manager
About the content of your jokes
(Not the proudly homophobic one,
Luckily?
Right.)
Who then looked uncomfortable
But seemed pleased when I told him that
I had already called you out
Because that means he doesn't have to
Because he wouldn't anyways
It doesn't affect him
Just some harmless humor
Ok.
So then I tell my coworker about your joke
Who then responds with:
"He's still doing that ****
Apparently so
Apparently.
So.
Because no one there seems to care
About jokes that put me
The only person at work read as a girl
(Which I'm not by the way)
In an extremely uncomfortable position
Why is no one else uncomfortable?
Why does no one else say anything?
Right,
They're all like you
Or they don't want you to judge them
Because you have that power
Because you're a
Straight.
White.
Boy.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 5:54 PM UTC
Strangely enough, I
almost missed the
birth of my three year
old daughter.
I have never written much for
popularity or trends; this one
is no exception.
My girlfriend and I
had been separated most
of her pregnancy.
I stabilized the last three months and
was able to
travel the 50 miles
as often as needed to
be there for the birth.
The night before she went
into labor, that morning, she acted
crazier than usual--passive aggressive,
and cruel biting remarks.
Finally, she just came out with it,
"I looked at your phone while you were sleeping,
and you have been watching **** I'm taking you
back to Mason City and you can just miss
the birth of your daughter.
Luckily, we only made it a few blocks before
she went in to labor.
But, she hasn't let me
live it down.
And I hoped like hell,
as I looked down at my
little angel,
I sure the **** hope
that she never becomes
a **** star.
Jan 13, 2021
Jan 13, 2021 at 1:28 PM UTC
Preventing contamination,
A constant challenge in cell culture.
Contamination not only affects,
The culture in question and,
Costs time and money,
But also endangers the reproducibility of results.
No cell culture problem,
Is as universal as that of culture loss
Due to contamination.
Generally, contamination may be separated,
Into categories of microbial,
And eukaryotic contamination.
Examples of microbial contamination include:
Bacteria (including Mycoplasma),
Fungi and yeast;
Eukaryotic contamination includes:
Cross-contamination with other cell lines.
Bacteria, yeast and fungi,
The three more common types of contamination,
But luckily these forms are often detectable,
Under the microscope and,
By visual cues,
Like colour or turbidity changes in the medium.
Mycoplasma is a small genus of bacteria,
That lack a cell wall and for this reason,
They remain unaffected by common antibiotics.
They are also difficult to detect,
With standard microscopes,
Due to their size, about 0.1 μm in diameter,
And the fact that they often attach to host cells.
To prevent contamination,
Use 70% ethanol for disinfecting,
Equipment & surfaces,
Related to cell culture.
Sterile filter the media first,
Before bringing to the lab.
Fetal Bovine Serum,
A potential source of contamination,
Contains mycoplasma.
Filter it at 0.1 μm, or,
Gamma irradiate it.
Aseptic technique,
Necessary.
The laboratory workers be the last,
But not the least source of contamination.
Teach them the ideal laboratory practices,
To ensure asepticity in a laboratory.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 9:02 PM UTC
h your body you caught my attention; I turned my sight towards your direction. With your eyes you mesmerized me; my stare was locked those mystical orbs. Your voice fell so sweetly upon my ears, and lost within your words I became. You walked me out of the shadows which my heart was lost within, and open my soul to the possibility of a new treasure. A feeling that has been so long ago lost it has been forgotten. Now I feel this new sensation and wonder, as if I was a child experiencing my first kiss. In one moment you entered my life, and in another you changed it. Yet I find myself luckily unlucky. I am lucky enough to know better, and unlucky enough to have found someone so wonderful; and still know better. For I know that you will never be mine, nor would I be able to capture your attention long enough to obtain your heart. Yet you have shown me that I could still feel, that passion can still come forth from within me. I’ve searched within you, maybe deeper than you would have wanted. I’ve looked passed the pain, and discover the wonders that could take my breath. Your drive pushes me to be more, when I don’t need more. Your smile raises my spirits, and even more so when I know I’m the cause. To listen to your words, sparks my imagination to the wonders of your life. I could love you; deeper than any ocean. Simply because I find you more enchanting than the stars on a perfectly dark night, and more alluring than Aurora Borealis (the northern light). Still I must hold myself from loving you, because your plans and fear keep you from holding me closer.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 8:36 PM UTC
Our son is turning 7 and they have been the best 7 years of my life.
I am so lucky to have the both of you in my life and I wouldnt want it any other way.
Thank you for being so strong and connected. You are always there when he needs you.
Age 1, learned how to walk
Age 2, learned how to talk
Age 3, learned how to create
Age 4, learned how to make a mistake
Age 5, learned who is a best friend
Age 6, learned how to let go
Age 7, learns how to follows his heart..
Co-parenting is never easy when the parents involved are not on the same page of understanding as the other.
Luckily on our sons end he has the best of both worlds. We have compassion, understanding, love, and forgiveness.
We can be a team without being together and that is all I could ever ask for our son to see.
This is my moment to thank you for being an amazing father to him.
I am entirely grateful he has you in his life to love him, to care for him, to be there with him.
I want you to teach him how to follow his dreams, how to open his heart and to show him how to love unconditionally.
To show him that even though things may not go as planned, there is always a positive in a negative situation.
You have made an impact on our lives and we love you so much.
You mean a lot to our hearts.
Thank you for being compassionate.
Thank you for being understanding.
Thank you for being strong.
Thank you for being everything to him.
Cheers to the next 11 years
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 9:54 AM UTC
Get the **** out of my head
Why is it so hard to forget you
Yet all the negatives try to vanish
In an attempt to make me miss you
You were a horrible person
And I can look past what you did to me
But you hurt her too, your best friend
Who does that?
How can one guy convince you to drop your best friend
When I couldn't even get you to ignore the toxic ones
I hear he's controlling now
That's cute
I hope you enjoy how he ***** you
Cause that's all you care about you heartless *****
You left me cause I refused to beat you in bed
Cause I couldn't satisfy your fantasies
Well I hope you realize that
Your addiction will destroy your life
If somehow it hasn't already
You dropped out of college and now you're living on your own
I knew you wouldn't go back if you left
But you had your own plans
Your own agenda to live your life
Trying to get whatever you want
From anyone
You didn't stay because I didn't put up with your ****
I stood up to you when no one else would
And luckily it got me out of a toxic relationship that
I didn't even realize was that bad
First love never dies
Here I am trying to justify
Why I can't get you out of my mind
No matter how hard I try
When I genuinely do not want you
Who I'm with now is so much better
She and I, we build together
Instead of me building for you
Leaving nothing to nurture myself
And you still seem to remove pieces from my wall
Threatening my progress without you
Because why would you do anything different
And I try to remind myself that
You cheated on me
And at least I can sleep
Without the raging guilt
That I hope fills your lungs
And chokes you in your sleep
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 1:21 PM UTC