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"prioritized" poems
Before all of this, even after all of this, I will forever be a patriot. Before the poet in me matured and I started talking like a parrot, The dogs of war barked and I climbed exile's fence on my own And there I have dwelled, with nothing tangible to bring me down. I have been on this fence so long and I will remain there forever! Especially since the premature child is still in the incubator. From this vantage point, I have learned never to trust any politician I've always looked at them with mistrust, disdain, and suspicion, Before all of this  and before I ran and climbed the exile fence, I was once mercilessly flogged, dragged and made to dance By drugged up and coerced child soldiers with a rubber cable They tied and spread me like a dog on the market table I watched as innocent people were killed with a rusty knife There, I vowed to become a fence dweller for the rest of my life! I've been a patriot all my life but I have done it from here..safer. From here I have seen blood spilled, hearts broken, hopes dashed, progresses stalled, mullions embezzled, promises broken, lies told people changed, games played, party surfed, interests prioritized. And from this vantage point, I have learned never ever to trust any politician I have always been right...though I have looked on with disdain, suspicion, and operated with caution but through it all, I have remained a true patriot and a fence dweller. .✍️©️✍️IvanBrooksPoetry.✍️©️✍️
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Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 8:03 PM UTC
The Fence Dweller
(the hours in between) It is the morning after reuniting, wining and talking...the stirring of the curtains transparent, become slow moving hands and calming whispers of a hypnotist, blending perfectly with the gentle whiff of a breeze...and the soft sounds of one who has just woken...a hint of a breath of life...there is much gratitude.....these early morning whispers could still be heard...quietude is a swaying hammock, but sleepy eyes peep through the window, gazing far, enthralled by the horizon...red, orange, purple.....merging.....against green and brown of the mountains...and from all these mix of colors, finally emerges a sky so blue...a new day is born, the Almighty is most kind...but something else unsettles the mind of one who has gone through many arduous journeys...asking:  "How did I fare"?   Can I still...?  Will I...?"  Now shining bright is a list of Things yet to happen...intentions--- Disguised as questions. Though this has long been conceptualized, There's this pressing feeling, they must now be prioritized Pray they soon be realized Before exit from this world has materialized. Can I still - Be brave enough to swim? drive a car? ride a bike? Meet with distant friends? learn new languages? Write with more depth, even when I turn 80... and older? Fly in a plane with my son as the pilot in command? See my granddaughters finish college? Will I still be able - To satisfy this wanderlust endlessly stirring within me? To ride a camel in the deserts of Morocco? To feel the sun, the air, even the rain, while walking the cobbled streets in Tuscany? To spend an evening in Florence? To visit Greece, Spain, Ireland, Wales, and relive stories read? To feel and breathe the air there, brimming with adventure? We walk through various labyrinths in life, so absorbed in our own worlds...hours, days, become prosy, they move oh, so slowly.......still, when the dark is upon us, we sit and reflect...wondering:   Will we see another day unfold before us? Do we get to witness The Blue Hours of another sunrise and sunset, And further be enchanted by the day's breath-taking A L P E N G L O W ? How many more A L P E N G L O W S ? Sally Copyright August 2014 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
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Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 7:39 PM UTC
A L P E N G L O W
(the hours in between) It is the morning after reuniting, wining and talking...the stirring of the curtains transparent, become slow moving hands and calming whispers of a hypnotist, blending perfectly with the gentle whiff of a breeze...and the soft sounds of one who has just woken...a hint of a breath of life...there is much gratitude.....these early morning whispers could still be heard...quietude is a swaying hammock, but sleepy eyes peep through the window, gazing far, enthralled by the horizon...red, orange, purple.....merging.....against green and brown of the mountains...and from all these mix of colors, finally emerges a sky so blue...a new day is born, the Almighty is most kind...but something else unsettles the mind of one who has gone through many arduous journeys...asking:  "How did I fare"?   Can I still...?  Will I...?"  Now shining bright is a list of Things yet to happen...intentions--- Disguised as questions. Though this has long been conceptualized, There's this pressing feeling, they must now be prioritized Pray they soon be realized Before exit from this world has materialized. Can I still - Be brave enough to swim? drive a car? ride a bike? Meet with distant friends? learn new languages? Write with more depth, even when I turn 80... and older? Fly in a plane with my son as the pilot in command? See my granddaughters finish college? Will I still be able - To satisfy this wanderlust endlessly stirring within me? To ride a camel in the deserts of Morocco? To feel the sun, the air, even the rain, while walking the cobbled streets in Tuscany? To spend an evening in Florence? To visit Greece, Spain, Ireland, Wales, and relive stories read? To feel and breathe the air there, brimming with adventure? We walk through various labyrinths in life, so absorbed in our own worlds...hours, days, become prosy, they move oh, so slowly.......still, when the dark is upon us, we sit and reflect...wondering:   Will we see another day unfold before us? Do we get to witness The Blue Hours of another sunrise and sunset, And further be enchanted by the day's breath-taking A L P E N G L O W ? How many more A L P E N G L O W S ? Sally Copyright August 2014 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
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34
i opened my mind the other day and saw that it was a mess i unlocked the door turned on the lights and cracked open some windows fresh air cascaded in and taught me how to breathe again it had been too long since i swept those floors they were ***** and grimy, covered in life’s sticky sweat a tornado of captured times and stolen moments had blown through so i reorganized and prioritized, filing fun under urgent and fear under forgettable once i was done there was so much empty hardwood floor, i just knew that i was ready to fill it up with more
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Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 9:06 AM UTC
spring cleaning
Hie Yamaha Wegman ****** voyager, voted vonage valuable, unrepentant TIME Magazine subscriber. Spotify sportsman Snapchat smartly. Sleuth slenderman silences Shutterfly schvitzing. Saxby sassy Santander sais sage rues rudimentary router rotorooter. Royale Rococco rigged remarkably regular referee reefers red reddit reeder recuperating. Reconnaissance recluse really rabid. QVC quotient quoting, quo quoi quivering quite quirky. Quisling quipped. Quintuplets quintessentially quiet. Quids Quicken questions. Quartermaster qualified quaint quaffing quadrilateral Pythons. Pyrex pylons put purdy purposeful puny punsters punching. Pumpkin pumice publicized prudential protean pros properly pronouncing prolific prodigies. Proletariats professors' problematic. Pro privileges prioritized. Principle primates prevaricate. Preppy pregnant, praying prattler possibly Porgie. Poseidon pooping poodle ponders poppycock. Plum? Polite poison pods ply pitiful pinterest. Pinhead Pillsbury pillager Pi. Pigskin pierce petsmart pests permanently. Perdition percolates peppered PennState pedigreed PearlJam Patagonian. Pastor pastes passion passably. Papas' paginated orbitz okayed. Nutty node needs money. Next netzero nee naugahyde. Nattering nationwide nabob Moxie Molly McGee. Monosodium livingsocial joyus je kickstarter. Identityguard Huffington GMO. Gluten Glutamate footloose fancy free footlocker. Fingerhut fetishistic fabrication Cingular.
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Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
Just Mien Pap Smeared Vapid Yawping
: .. .... ........ ........... As often as a human's breath, deadlines and restrictions pop up simultaneous with emergencies chores, and necessities...all in a fast pace, many things are prioritized ...though, most are unnecessary and occupy precious space in our lives... everyday, we struggle...silent battles and tribulations stir the soul... for some reason, some things cannot be changed...some people play deaf and stay the same.....neither could thoughts towards them, be altered... sometimes, our ties with useless stuff, and useless people...need to be severed. moments come when, we've had enough ..............of rules and regulations. ...................we just get fed up... life is precious and short.....a part of me ....awaits a break......a cold phase, .........when all my discontent would freeze ..............when all queasy feelings ...................this fidgeting within, ........................would turn to ice ..............................permanently..... ....................... ................... ............. ......... ...... .... .. . Sally © Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan (an old unposted poem from 2014)
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Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 7:35 AM UTC
Hiatus
Everyone thinks god is here to Answer All Our Prayers & Save Us. No. God is here to help us learn to stand on our own.   Our prayers don’t go unanswered, they get ‘Prioritized’. It is in those moments that we become strong and find god is there to do the heavy lifting when we need it most. I cannot think of a single thing done alone that I was not strong enough to bare and I know the impossible things that would be left undone had I been carrying the weight on my own. No prayer is ever left unanswered; God will always be found in those empty places of space which we ourselves cannot fill.
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
Unanswered Prayers
i think i have finally understood the concept of moving on for people like me, for people who have a heart like me and also for the ones who love the same way i do. you see, when you end up loving someone the same way i love - you can never really get over them even when it's over. when you've integrated someone into your life, making them a part of your life, it stays. they don't just leave your life like that, even when they're already gone. when you've made someone one of your main sources of happiness and when they stop becoming so - sure, they're just one of your main sources of happiness but just like wifi, full signal is always better than half even though it still works, right? moving on is never being able to completely look at someone and feel nothing even when you've shared a past together. it's about accepting the fact that you'll never ever have a chance with them ever again, no matter how much you want them. it's crying at night because you can't turn back time to fix things or to feel how much they once loved you. it's seeing them happy with someone new and softly whispering, "if you're happy, then i'm happy too." it's constantly torturing yourself with wishful thinking and hopelessly dreaming about another chance, for them to reconsider their choices of leaving you but feeling suffocated because you know, hope isn't even an option anymore - it's just pointless wishing. it's about understanding that you will never really understand why things didn't work out. it's about putting their well-being and happiness before yours because you know that if yours were prioritized, or even cared about, they wouldn't be as happy as they are today without you. it's about looking forward to go to bed because you can finally see them in your dreams but not being able to fall asleep because the thoughts of the past are flooding your mind like a tsunami. i could go on for days, but i think you get it. i think you understand that moving on does not mean you don't love them or care about them anymore, but it means you love and care about them enough to let them be because if leaving you is what makes them happy, so be it. even though it hurts. so even if i have moved on from you, (here i go again with the wishful thinking but) if one day you decide to come back, please know that i will always welcome you back with open arms and i will whisper, "i have been waiting for you."
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Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 2:10 PM UTC
moving on;
i think i have finally understood the concept of moving on for people like me, for people who have a heart like me and also for the ones who love the same way i do. you see, when you end up loving someone the same way i love - you can never really get over them even when it's over. when you've integrated someone into your life, making them a part of your life, it stays. they don't just leave your life like that, even when they're already gone. when you've made someone one of your main sources of happiness and when they stop becoming so - sure, they're just one of your main sources of happiness but just like wifi, full signal is always better than half even though it still works, right? moving on is never being able to completely look at someone and feel nothing even when you've shared a past together. it's about accepting the fact that you'll never ever have a chance with them ever again, no matter how much you want them. it's crying at night because you can't turn back time to fix things or to feel how much they once loved you. it's seeing them happy with someone new and softly whispering, "if you're happy, then i'm happy too." it's constantly torturing yourself with wishful thinking and hopelessly dreaming about another chance, for them to reconsider their choices of leaving you but feeling suffocated because you know, hope isn't even an option anymore - it's just pointless wishing. it's about understanding that you will never really understand why things didn't work out. it's about putting their well-being and happiness before yours because you know that if yours were prioritized, or even cared about, they wouldn't be as happy as they are today without you. it's about looking forward to go to bed because you can finally see them in your dreams but not being able to fall asleep because the thoughts of the past are flooding your mind like a tsunami. i could go on for days, but i think you get it. i think you understand that moving on does not mean you don't love them or care about them anymore, but it means you love and care about them enough to let them be because if leaving you is what makes them happy, so be it. even though it hurts. so even if i have moved on from you, (here i go again with the wishful thinking but) if one day you decide to come back, please know that i will always welcome you back with open arms and i will whisper, "i have been waiting for you."
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11
Crimes gone on and on and against all humanity with a refusal to ever scrutinize Twist the rule of law to accommodate the blatant lies they prioritize on both sides That's the American dream, can only be seen behind closed eyes Allowed to look but can't touch the prize, that's the hook, the bait and switch slight of hand is no surprise A separate set of law books slipped in on the sly, guess the compromise One for the citizen and one for the almighty enterprise, just dollar signs in their eyes All for one and one for all, false bravado, see what happens when a nobody tries See how quick a global problem is prioritized to keep in check a global unrest notably on the rise Also on the rise, fear of a population turned unbiased congregation then weaponized Who exactly are the good guys? If it's a non zero number I'd be surprised Who would have guessed that building an enterprise on the lives of the little guys would be a possible demise? 🎼If you go into my neck of the woods prepare for a big surprise A lone baby cries it's own lullabies through innocent eyes as innocence dies The evil in people is all that thrives, it's never been the best of times🎼 ©2023
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Dec 13, 2023
Dec 13, 2023 at 6:30 PM UTC
~•§•~ Sleight of Hand ~•§•~
It’s the sugar on your tongue. It’s the ignorance at your side that encourages The cane to slither off that flavorful muscle. I don’t remember how it tastes. I obtain no desire to. What happened old chap? You used to own the world with that sickle. Does it hurt? That prioritized thumb Pinning your will with darts. Wriggling your way into false self-explanations As to never admit defeat. But old pal, you know it’s true. You've hit the bulls eye, You've met your match. Walk the tracks.
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Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 1:18 PM UTC
Disorientation
Decisions are prioritized Answers align The mind is focused I am the hunter-- emboldened by the stone's vibration to prey upon my indecision and apathy.
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Jan 31, 2012
Jan 31, 2012 at 8:55 AM UTC
Tiger's Eye
An empty coffee mug.....    Could evoke impending sadness between you and the empty vessel, are some private, reflective moments It could mean, it is time for you to stand up,     away from the coffee table and start your daily grind face another day in your life... An empty coffee mug could lead to the end of a long exhausting day the end of a conversation the end of a relationship :( Coffee is gone, lots of things have to be done maybe, It is time to leave an old life old beliefs, give away old clothes, old books some goodbyes have to be said to old friends gone...old self, and to old pricking, stabbing pain... move to another house, for a new life new opportunities, new friends new surroundings, await Each season segues to the next yellow-green, brown, fuschia pink red-orange, purple, even aqua-blue slowly, but surely, they all turn to gray the lovely colors of Spring, Summer and  Autumn, become ashen...and die but... after a while, they surely give way, a springing of new life could never be held at bay ....................................... out of the coffee shop or maybe, outside your room...just stop, it could be a stretch from your scope of view you are faced with the birthing of everything new there is sun shining for sure.....a moon rising ......................................... An empty coffee mug could mean, the end of your break time stop wallowing quit postponing focus back on work and things to be prioritized now is the time...got to move on..... Sally Copyright September 2015 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
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Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 1:14 AM UTC
AN EMPTY COFFEE MUG...
An empty coffee mug.....    Could evoke impending sadness between you and the empty vessel, are some private, reflective moments It could mean, it is time for you to stand up,     away from the coffee table and start your daily grind face another day in your life... An empty coffee mug could lead to the end of a long exhausting day the end of a conversation the end of a relationship :( Coffee is gone, lots of things have to be done maybe, It is time to leave an old life old beliefs, give away old clothes, old books some goodbyes have to be said to old friends gone...old self, and to old pricking, stabbing pain... move to another house, for a new life new opportunities, new friends new surroundings, await Each season segues to the next yellow-green, brown, fuschia pink red-orange, purple, even aqua-blue slowly, but surely, they all turn to gray the lovely colors of Spring, Summer and  Autumn, become ashen...and die but... after a while, they surely give way, a springing of new life could never be held at bay ....................................... out of the coffee shop or maybe, outside your room...just stop, it could be a stretch from your scope of view you are faced with the birthing of everything new there is sun shining for sure.....a moon rising ......................................... An empty coffee mug could mean, the end of your break time stop wallowing quit postponing focus back on work and things to be prioritized now is the time...got to move on..... Sally Copyright September 2015 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
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53
I got scolded, got debouched For the love I had that you didn't care for. I failed many times, gave up everything I had For the wrong thinking that you love me too. I adored you, prioritized things that are for you For the thought that you're heart is mine. I procrastinated what must've been done first, Became stupid in the eyes of other people For the love I thought is true. I feel stupid, ashamed of myself I'm so broken, so dead So afraid to love again With this procrastination for love, Everyday is a dead rain.
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Dec 21, 2011
Dec 21, 2011 at 5:48 AM UTC
Procrastination for Love
Look at how I've controlled your little mind I find humor in when you think that without me you won’t please yours or any other eye I can manipulate you into believing that in my absence that word pretty you will never define Chanel, L’Oreal, Maybelline what else of me have you  prioritized of what I offer, you own a collection so wide from your dresser to your pocket or in that bag you carry by your side contouring so you can attain that distinct jaw line or black winged liner to change the shape of your eye why haven't you realized? that you're gradually making me a necessity in your lives though of this you have no clue due to your false judgment which has convinced you to assume that your flaws should be hidden because they don’t make you, you The richness of the colors I offer will keep you satisfied The cherry red on your lips that feels every breath you take in one smudge and you’re ready to reapply why do you act as if nature has done some sort of crime? Let face it if there’s anyone who should be fined it is I for deluding you to ignore the innocence of your face whose beauty you've chose not to embrace and have resorted to me as your only escape leaving  with what’s beneath to suffocate making you confident like fulfilling some need only for a period of time I succeed so on me don’t be too dependent for I’m just a temporary lie step outside keeping in mind that true beauty radiates from what’s inside don't take to heart on what they criticize do not get used to me because dear I do not define
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Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
Embrace
Look at how I've controlled your little mind I find humor in when you think that without me you won’t please yours or any other eye I can manipulate you into believing that in my absence that word pretty you will never define Chanel, L’Oreal, Maybelline what else of me have you  prioritized of what I offer, you own a collection so wide from your dresser to your pocket or in that bag you carry by your side contouring so you can attain that distinct jaw line or black winged liner to change the shape of your eye why haven't you realized? that you're gradually making me a necessity in your lives though of this you have no clue due to your false judgment which has convinced you to assume that your flaws should be hidden because they don’t make you, you The richness of the colors I offer will keep you satisfied The cherry red on your lips that feels every breath you take in one smudge and you’re ready to reapply why do you act as if nature has done some sort of crime? Let face it if there’s anyone who should be fined it is I for deluding you to ignore the innocence of your face whose beauty you've chose not to embrace and have resorted to me as your only escape leaving  with what’s beneath to suffocate making you confident like fulfilling some need only for a period of time I succeed so on me don’t be too dependent for I’m just a temporary lie step outside keeping in mind that true beauty radiates from what’s inside don't take to heart on what they criticize do not get used to me because dear I do not define
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43
The cold western wind scurry hurries in while a 4pm sunset languidly paints rush hour traffic with hues of gold, of orange, of purple, of autumn. A breeze that nips of winter, cooling hot summer passions; commanding the tourists away, ordering local lives to be prioritized. A wind so cold yet soft sun so warm, with a glow that reassures; inviting the holidays to approach and hibernation mind to draw people near, away from the fear of being frozen alone. This is autumn's gift.
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Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 4:23 PM UTC
An Autumn Painting
There once was a time, When children could play outside, Without their parents fear or cries. In this time, the world was big, But at least the little child, Could explore it to his delight. In the shroud of childhood, The sunset is much more intense, The greens of the trees much more serene. And when you jump in the lagoon, With you’re friends beside you, You look back, and sigh, knowing you once had paradise. But those days are gone now. Sheltered lives, and internet. We dive into the web, with false lives, and lies. Where once their was honesty, decency, And a Hard day’s Play. Now, no more. Sure, racism is just a joke for the comedians, But what happens when it is our kids who grow up, Each getting a trophy for losing. I think they become the joke. I think when we started to take out tough love and consequences. When we started to believe our kids over our teachers. When we kept them inside during the summer’s days and nights. When we prioritized effort over victory, over success. That failure was an acceptable outcome. When its really, really, not. That’s when the time we once had, The golden age of America. Faded, away. But what do I know, Hush now, I’m off to use, The interweb machine. This time I’m a thirty-four year old Asian female. See you on the other side.
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Jul 20, 2010
Jul 20, 2010 at 11:27 PM UTC
There Once Was A Time
how quickly thine priorities abandon me stop telling me how good my hair smells stop twisting it around your finger like that **** it up and spend some real time with me i'm not an idiot i get what happens you get scared and you opt out go pray for some guts or something
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Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
prioritized
I have been at rock bottom the beauty of it  is that it was there that i found the rock the one i can stand on i can't fall any lower i wiped the slate clean i prioritized my lovers he picked up the pieces rebuilt my heart from the rubble filled the cracks with cement he said what he meant and he meant what he said my heart is alive and not just my head, he is everything to me, that i couldn't feel when i was dead. he is rock steady and i want to rock steadily heading where he sends me readily i can't wait to live the things he's imagining I mean, he had the audacity (thankfully) to imagine me. he loves me incredibly this ground is so solid there is nothing to discredit me rock, steady. rock steadily.
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Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 1:41 AM UTC
rock-steady
And I know we are far gone When your “later” is code for “never” And I’m the one desperately trying to start a conversation I know we are far, far gone When everything else is prioritized before me I know we are gone forever When you’ve not only stopped telling me your secrets You have stopped telling me anything I know that there is no turning back When I haven’t seen you in months Even though there is only an eight minute walking distance between us I know that we have materialized into nothing When all the conversations I have with you are held inside my mind I know that we are gone
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Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 6:19 AM UTC
Gone
Eleven years since I enrolled. Eleven years I've been a part of this system. And with open arms I would finally like to thank you For what the school has offered me. So thank you For preparing me for the world. Needing to prove in six lines or more why line A is parallel to line B Will surely serve me nicely when I'm on my own and need to write triangular comparisons. And although I don't know a thing about taxes, I know to fear not, Because mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, And that is the only thing that will be on the test. And I trust your all-knowing judgment because you have never failed me before. So you must be right when you say my little brother doesn't need to write in script Because , as you put it, computers are the future. There is no need to learn to write. And I can't forget the ever-so-loving atmosphere distributed to me all those years. I had learned to have a sense of humor at the young age of nine, Because it was a joke to you when the other children told me to end it with a slash. And all the assessments have served us greatly. The loss of a history class to learn how to use a keyboard for testing Could not have been time better spent. Real life skills do not need to be taught, Not when useless test scores are prioritized and focused on Rather than a decent life lesson, And all because they equal money in corrupt superintendents’ wallets. That is what I have learned after all these years. A sincere thank you is in order for the education supplied. I have surely been taught well.
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Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 9:04 AM UTC
Thanks Education but I Learned on My Own
Eleven years since I enrolled. Eleven years I've been a part of this system. And with open arms I would finally like to thank you For what the school has offered me. So thank you For preparing me for the world. Needing to prove in six lines or more why line A is parallel to line B Will surely serve me nicely when I'm on my own and need to write triangular comparisons. And although I don't know a thing about taxes, I know to fear not, Because mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, And that is the only thing that will be on the test. And I trust your all-knowing judgment because you have never failed me before. So you must be right when you say my little brother doesn't need to write in script Because , as you put it, computers are the future. There is no need to learn to write. And I can't forget the ever-so-loving atmosphere distributed to me all those years. I had learned to have a sense of humor at the young age of nine, Because it was a joke to you when the other children told me to end it with a slash. And all the assessments have served us greatly. The loss of a history class to learn how to use a keyboard for testing Could not have been time better spent. Real life skills do not need to be taught, Not when useless test scores are prioritized and focused on Rather than a decent life lesson, And all because they equal money in corrupt superintendents’ wallets. That is what I have learned after all these years. A sincere thank you is in order for the education supplied. I have surely been taught well.
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29
my self control is failing those tiny moments of happiness have been prioritized over the hours of analysis and regret
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Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 12:13 AM UTC
priorities
Loyalty and Honesty Are such old fashion qualities. Now Hatred and Envy Are real celebrities and followed by paparazzi. These celebrities have made us blind, Destroying this world that was just fine. They were first created in our mind And flows down to our heart via our spine . Now the devil is laughing and saying lol, We have prioritized these qualities above all. We do not understand that we are all equal We have stoop down so low to find everyone's faults. Many are teaching about goodness But practising in our daily life is the hardest. Injustice, bloodshed is what we witness, But have no power to stand against evil's greatness. No power doesn't mean we are weak It means we are allowing the devil to play hide and seek. Right in our minds, hearts and cheek We have becomes fans of the worst freak. J. Mathew
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Jun 25, 2020
Jun 25, 2020 at 12:36 PM UTC
Real celebrities
I can feel every voice inside of me screaming, sound waves bouncing against every cell, clashing with every heartbeat, and colliding with each aching muscle, but all I hear is the swish of the ceiling fan’s blades as they slice this stale air. I have no voice externally. You’d think I would be used to this by now, but I don’t welcome a home that tries the beat the life out of my joy, that takes every loving moment I feel and replaces it with a reminder that I’m unnoticed, Forgettable. I want my real home again, where my walls don’t form massive brick barriers ready to cave with any gust of wind, where the fence that surrounds me won’t shock me when I try to escape. I want to feel life in my fingertips again and wake every morning to a day worthy of sunlight. I want to be seen. I want to grip every worry, every fear, every smile, every laugh, every vulnerability so tightly in my fists that my fingernails cut holes in my palms deep enough for me to bleed out all of my insecurities, and then I want to hold each hand out toward anyone who claims to care and release the muscles that are trembling so softly from grip, so I can release uncertainties that have shaken me so swiftly from flight, and I want you all to watch as each part of me presents itself before you as it falls from my grasp, each part of me that you didn’t know, each part of me that I thought died, each part of me that I’ve worked intensely to build, and each part of me that you look over, because every move I make and every piece of my soul is like a light breeze in the midst of autumn: invisible, lacking importance, nice to have, but unnecessary.
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Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 3:55 AM UTC
Un-Prioritized
I can feel every voice inside of me screaming, sound waves bouncing against every cell, clashing with every heartbeat, and colliding with each aching muscle, but all I hear is the swish of the ceiling fan’s blades as they slice this stale air. I have no voice externally. You’d think I would be used to this by now, but I don’t welcome a home that tries the beat the life out of my joy, that takes every loving moment I feel and replaces it with a reminder that I’m unnoticed, Forgettable. I want my real home again, where my walls don’t form massive brick barriers ready to cave with any gust of wind, where the fence that surrounds me won’t shock me when I try to escape. I want to feel life in my fingertips again and wake every morning to a day worthy of sunlight. I want to be seen. I want to grip every worry, every fear, every smile, every laugh, every vulnerability so tightly in my fists that my fingernails cut holes in my palms deep enough for me to bleed out all of my insecurities, and then I want to hold each hand out toward anyone who claims to care and release the muscles that are trembling so softly from grip, so I can release uncertainties that have shaken me so swiftly from flight, and I want you all to watch as each part of me presents itself before you as it falls from my grasp, each part of me that you didn’t know, each part of me that I thought died, each part of me that I’ve worked intensely to build, and each part of me that you look over, because every move I make and every piece of my soul is like a light breeze in the midst of autumn: invisible, lacking importance, nice to have, but unnecessary.
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47
i was thinking of you and me in our pieces and places thinking about our own selves not thinking about each other until time space place things put us where we breathed air in same situations here-there what a strange conspiracy would place us here to down grade the importance of selves ours mine yours each others we did not prioritize so this world put us at number one for each others for some time leaving us without options we made do with companionship some brief moments of time where we prioritized each other then time space place things moved without us a tidal wave of shifting things so we shifted too and moved to others priorities but you were fortunate enough to take a plus one for these black-tie events while i carry the heavy space around me as if it is an option a conscious choice no one rsvp-ed as my plus one thus no witnesses to call me out when i don a new face to greet the faces i meet prepared to leave every second every day- i barely remember those i met a minute a blink a movement ago but music forges ahead life brims knowledge is added and crushed into dust by the relevance of time disallowing for anyone to put any hold onto it with intellect or paper my song remains empty silent fake lights fake smiles fake laughs fake fake tears fake companionship so helplessly temporary i feel the drowning air of words unsaid anxieties untested in my bones at my lips as i slowly nervously keep moving always being rushed in as a late attendance by an impatient usher too busy with bigger details to explain the rules of a party where i always arrive late with none to take my coat at the door i remain hopelessly dressed in red dungarees worn since i was three my version of a skintight red dress painfully obviously underdressed
0
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 1:22 AM UTC
underdressed
i was thinking of you and me in our pieces and places thinking about our own selves not thinking about each other until time space place things put us where we breathed air in same situations here-there what a strange conspiracy would place us here to down grade the importance of selves ours mine yours each others we did not prioritize so this world put us at number one for each others for some time leaving us without options we made do with companionship some brief moments of time where we prioritized each other then time space place things moved without us a tidal wave of shifting things so we shifted too and moved to others priorities but you were fortunate enough to take a plus one for these black-tie events while i carry the heavy space around me as if it is an option a conscious choice no one rsvp-ed as my plus one thus no witnesses to call me out when i don a new face to greet the faces i meet prepared to leave every second every day- i barely remember those i met a minute a blink a movement ago but music forges ahead life brims knowledge is added and crushed into dust by the relevance of time disallowing for anyone to put any hold onto it with intellect or paper my song remains empty silent fake lights fake smiles fake laughs fake fake tears fake companionship so helplessly temporary i feel the drowning air of words unsaid anxieties untested in my bones at my lips as i slowly nervously keep moving always being rushed in as a late attendance by an impatient usher too busy with bigger details to explain the rules of a party where i always arrive late with none to take my coat at the door i remain hopelessly dressed in red dungarees worn since i was three my version of a skintight red dress painfully obviously underdressed
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55
I feel like this more than you'd know. But how would you know? How much do you care? Enough to make me feel like this. Alone. Ostracized. On the outside, it's called The Time Of My Life. On the inside, I hear your laughter without me. And I know the secrets you keep. The jokes I'm on the outside of. How do I prioritized the Great Unknown? To not be so alone? Unknown.
0
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
Bent
It's really hard to feel loved; when there is no one to love; How to be hopeful, when there's no hope left to begin with; Unable to feel prioritized, because priority was never a thing; Give me a heart full of content,  tired of feeling heartless My life is a series of compiled fabrication of missing feelings and emotions; Every breath I sip, every step I take, every blink I make; Are all figments of my imagination; Nothing but fabricated lies; Lies; And more lies
0
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 11:47 AM UTC
.fake