Did you know that if you don't stretch in the correct way, you might end up thwarting the entire purpose of your workout and suffer unwanted injuries?

Doing pre-workout stretches thoroughly will determine whether you are benefiting from your workout or whether it's worsening your muscle tear. Here are the major stretching crimes that you should never commit.

Not doing a proper warm-up

According to gym instructors worldwide, this is the most commonly committed crimes in any gym. A warm-up is a must before any kind of workout — cardio or weights — and must ideally last at least 12-15 minutes.

Assuming that stretching is a warm-up

Stretching and warming up is not the same. You need to warm up first, before you are ready to stretch. A slow jog or brisk walking on the treadmill is a good warm-up.

Rushing through your stretching exercises

Stretching should be for the entire body. You cannot skip any parts. Involve stretches that work your lower back, shoulders, calves, stomach, quads etc. You should not move from one stretch to the other in very quick succession because that may cause untoward injuries. Try to hold each stretch for 20 seconds. When you breathe deeply and hold the stretch, your muscles get trained to tolerate the maximum that your limbs can go to.

Giving stretching a skip after a workout

You have done an hour of strenuous exercise and now you just want to rush out of the gym; that is a huge mistake. Spend some time bending and stretching after your sweat session. Then, do a cool down before you leave the gym.

Not stretching every day

You need to be your flexible best always and that can only happen if you stretch daily, even on the days that you aren't gymming. This ensures that your gym days are more fruitful and that you make the most of them.

Not breathing properly

Breathing right is a very important aspect of stretching. Breathe naturally while you inhale through your nose, expand your rib cage and upper abdomen as you fill in your lungs. When exhaling, breathe out through your mouth, preferably making an audible sound. This relaxes you. While stretching, you need to breathe out when you are exerting, that is, when you are actually contracting your muscles.

Doing static stretches

Never stand still and do stretches that work only one muscle. You should rather do stretches that work a group of muscles — like a lunge that stretches your upper hamstring muscle, your ankles and also your glutes.

Ignoring pain while stretching

When you are in the middle of a stretch and you feel pain, stop immediately and consult an expert. Your stretch should make you feel a gentle pull only, not immense pain. If you are hurting, you are doing it wrong. Rest a few days and then go back to working out under a qualified trainer.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses

Hit the gym hard
Squats for legs strengthen those quads
Bench press for chest gets the pump
Hit it right make it tight
Isolations with dumbbells
Form is everything
More reps with less weight
Maxs out test of strength
Heavy weight less reps
Finish strong last set
Stretch to warm up
Stretch to cool down
Cardio for the heart rate
Gym time best time
Progress body change
Mind set ready for more

It was the time of summer where every kid had silently realized that it was ending,
No longer halfway through, no longer half full
Leaking and spilling out,
like the gas in my twenty two year old car
We couldn’t stop it,
And the moments of high school summertime
The moments that supposedly turn into stories we tell forever
Hadn’t seemed to have happened.

Both of us on the swing lazily swung
Dizzily from side to side.
Climbing forward, falling in reverse
Our combined bodyweight shifting back and forth
Tanned legs kicking up in an attempt at unison on every backwards glide.
Gravity hung us there,
Pulling the swing toward the ground no matter the rotation.

I sat on top.
I wore bleached shorts and bleached hair.
I worried that gravity or more so my value to it
would crush him.


At the same time, I felt unbelievably small.


The air pressed in on me from all angles,
it touched my bare legs
it easily waffled my shirt.

“Mel, if you were squishing me, I would let you know”,
he assured with a cocky tone of his very own that somehow made me feel special.
I couldn’t help but think he was only trying to be tough
Attempting to let sheer willpower overweigh my well earned quads,
My six foot frame.
The awkward body I never quite grew into
Never knew how to masterfully control
Never knew how to fill.
Though I secretly (wanted to) truly believe him

On this humid night I felt like the ball was in my court,
Like I could do anything and everything.
That nothing could go wrong
That the boy that I was sitting on was genuine
And that I could simply drive off to wherever.

(I had a full tank of gas and enough money to get me to Alabama).

I felt small in this,
in this infinity of possibility all around me.
Like a weight was pushing into me
Putting on pressure that couldn’t be ignored
That shrunk me just enough.
I felt powerless to fate
Powerless to this planet
To this grand, glorified hunk of earth which was so much greater than me
(and surely my insignificant weight anxieties).

I felt like the gas was leaking out faster than I could use it.
I felt like my infinity was disappearing as I swung within it.


Just like that, I let the ball drop and the gas leak out.
We just kept swinging.
Laughing,
Wasting,
Talking,

Dying.

Paralyxzations of the worn spandex, still early
Pizza and beer on a comfy couch
And the crunchy old leaves
That decorate the walls of my house
Glimpses of nature in an urban world.
I think a bit, I feel my quads
As they burn with lactic acid pain
That never leaves an athlete in season.
The greasy cheeseboard and brown dried leaves
Reflect the feelings of sweat and drained
Emotions and motivations, sleep is near.
The night is young, but sleep is near.
Parties call to me with voices loud
Over my tired and disabled carcass
The incessant fight between body and mind begins

Why should I venture out into the world?
What is fun if it can come
Only through grinding my *** in someone’s crotch?
Shall I not find the comfort in my bed,
The warmth of blankets that smell like me, or else
The shared cup of tea with roommates and friends
Not the bedroom tussle with muscled men
I am whole within myself.
Climbing trees or dreaming of oceans
Running up hills and conquering waters
All are my fun; my life is full remembering
The past adventures with inebriation and indiscretions  
It is now time for soul and body to heal.

Men in the bars had their inhuman strength
To down the pitchers and pints of beer
Loud mouth ******* who seem so compelling
Move as kings among the tittering ******
Magnificent in their swarthy confidence
Until their blood alcohol level reaches a new high
Creating a beast without inhibitions
Till no doesn’t mean no, but an invitation to come
Shall my voice fail? Or shall it come to be
The voice of a victim? And shall my quads
Have the strength to run, or the foresight to
Begin in a place much friendlier than now
A part of the brain and a part of the heart
And next is the knowledge of things to come
Not the dulled senses of an exhausted drunk.

I say, “But Saturday is my only night
When morning practice is not imminent”
Parties are the basis for college fun; hence my wish
Together with people and dancing and drink
Shall I finally reach the effervescent image.
Although sleep is upon my weary bones,
The path of fun is clearly wrought with dangers, and love.
The triumph of conquest blows the ringing horns
Until my sparkled dress comes down from the hanger
And uggs are rejected for heels of blue
I cause boys to pile orders for beer and ***** tonics
On their max-out cards. I taste the metallic twang
Of future mistakes and regrets.

I'm looking to find my balance
Decorating it like valance
I'll bring plenty to the table
Talk about that spring balance
No more kidding around, kid's allowance
You want a real man
Looking for someone to stan
It won't happen at expectation
It will be a genuine donation
To your soul
When you're engulfed by the ghoul
Three strikes when you bowl
Too traumatized to smoke one
Good thing though, you don't want to be done
It's an unlawful run
Like you're afraid of Attila The ***
There's no need
To be swallowed in depression and other's greed
We all have our history of beads
That bog us down
You're not the only one in town
To have these emotions
But I might be one of the few to have that devotion
Causing intense commotion
You better bring the lotion
Because I'm making this swamp dry
Letting this fog die
I'm not a perfect guy
Maybe not the best buy
Maybe Geek Squad
I can barely carry quads
But I can carry you
To the shores
You can retain my core
These muscle remain sore
But I'd rather it be that way
You're the forever in the day
Unless you break my bays
Floodgates of acid
Don't like to come to this in placid
Or even casual
It all has to be natural
Call me super
You won't be believing your eyes
It's tough enough to realize
That you don't always need to be chastise
I like to run up the imaginary commas clockwise
Here's words to the wise
You got to read them
Carefully heed
Before you bleed
Out too much to grasp the rails
Carrying the pails
Dropping them horribly
I hope you'd be out unscathed
This pool we've bathed
Has changed us all
So refuse to stall
Face what's been breaking you
Because there's no replacing you
I'm not always going to be chasing you
So you better have a good reason
Don't force me into the feeling of treason
I can be your beacon
Your personal deacon
It's easy to weaken
Whether you're Persian or Puerto Rican
Same thing applies
The world can be full of flies
But you got to smack them down
Hard and ruthless
Just don't be shallow or toothless
I can definitely prove this
They'll devour you whole
Make sure they know you're swole
From the North Pole to the South Pole
You got it locked
Keep your weapon glocked
Firm and steady
So you're at the ready
Don't force yourself
To change to those peering
I'm going to be on the sidelines cheering
Snickering and sneering
It's all useless after the clearing
Do you want another hearing?
It'll be the same
You're born into this game
No need for the money and fame
You got that perfect level of tint
You're not desperate, you're just in a crisis like Flint
Everyone gets there
Under the rut
Under the rule of the oligarchs in the sophisticated tiki hut
Full breeds and muts
Are what they declare
But they couldn't be more wrong
We all don't sing in song
But the subtle singing still matters
No matter how hard they try to shatter
Don't destroy your bladder
Because you're growing sadder
Confront me, I'll drop it
Like the hottest mixtape
So I can fix your heart with invincible tape
Together we can vape
Just don't get too carried away
I like the bonding, let's keep it that way
Trying not to run out of things to say
To the likeness of you
What a beauty to see you swoon
Hate being gone so soon
If you were
That would be a tremendous stur
Causing me to say every derogatory slur
At the sky
Looking for a reason
Why this all transpired
You make my heart go higher
I'm not your sire
But we need each other
I got my brothers from another mother
But you are the rest
Pounding chest
Can you make another perfect guess
On where my loyalty lies
The last thing I'd ever do
Is lie to you
All these pictures I drew
All these planes I flew
The numbers turned into a slew
Nothing compares
To the Mary Sue
I found at the helm
I'll go wherever you realm
These gargoyles I'll whelm
They'll have to keep fighting
Cause my heart keeps igniting
It's a little freightening
But I'll make it work
I always do
Not always starting with the clues
But I can decipher all the blue
Turn you into orange and red
Making sure you're never truly dead
I won't ever imagine that story line in my head
Some things are better left unsaid
Give me your perfection instead.

California gold-rush blues
Got you pretty thirsty
Where's tank girl when you need her
Saliva thick
Lump in throat
Tongue swelling
Neck swollen
Can't breathe
Drowning
Shrinking skin
Hallucinations
Eyelids crack
Tears of blood
Leather-purse face
Amputated lips
Nose withered
Eyes trapped
We're all exported and exploited
Sold sanely cheap
Used how the rich see fit
Dead in one week
Ecosystem crashing
All for their mansions
Filled with rooms they never use
Profit ******
We see oceans through our windows
97 percent
97 percent
3 percent for you and none for us
Little boy is drinking bubbles
But it ain't champagne
It's dead dogs and fetus juice
Dog dogs and abuse
Where are the wetlands
Where are the holy springs
Soon we'll all be Atlantis
Just another lost city
Soon we'll be living
In underground caves
Like cowards
We all want roses in our garden bower
But the best heroes
Might as well be slaves
Global desert
Without rain
Green turns yellow
Here come the earthquakes
****** forest
Rest in peace
They erected cities
In your memory
Cartels and shades of grey
Vivendi, Veolia
Machines with no soul
Privatizing blue gold
In their corporate quads
Woe to WTO
The new colonialism
Coca Cola 7-Up
Sorry but your time is up
Destroy everything you touch
When it's gone
Get up and leave
Destroy another planet
**** and conquer
SLAPPing silly pointless fools
Transporting silly tools
Shooting all the people's people
Got to pull up the roots
Bullets through lace curtains
Has a ring to it
You spineless cruel leaders
With your oil rivers
Well you've made a rival now
World map's changing underground
Alternatives are scarce
Purity is all but lost
Path of least resistance blocked
Metamorphosizing clocks
Circulation down the train
Don't drink the red water
Just pray for rain

Do the bathmat shuffle
To the closet in the hall
It's never very graceful
But try not to fall

No towels on the shelf
Must be in the dryer
Do the bathmat shuffle
But now you’ll do it slyer

Shuffle down the hall
And hope no one's about
Or shimmy like you don’t care
Shake, dance, belt out

Do the bathmat shuffle
You’re nearly almost there
Made it to the dryer
But the towels are elsewhere

Do the bathmat stumble
Your quads are feeling tight
Eureka in the living room
The end is now in sight

Do the towel toga boogie
Time to celebrate
You could put the towels away
But maybe you’ll just wait

NCL April 2019

****** f@ggot shill and f@g
oldf@gs newf@gs rolling hard
trips and dubs and even quads
but OP won't deliver

rate us, hate us, sauce pls now
in this thread we save a cat
mods, is this under 18?
the /b/etards at it yet again
but we don't talk about it

cringe us rekt us make us laugh
this thread's preventing suicide
****** racism sexism ****
we mostly rate body parts in /soc/

normies not welcome
******, alpha, femanon
is a girl? **** or ****!
welcome to the internets
pics or it didn't happen

gore thread? not enough!
self-hate, ponies, rule 34 fap
the "cesspool of the internet"
is really not that bad

Rest easy, read these heavy words of slumber,
tap your chest to the beat of your heart,
empty out breath even from the deepest parts
the void, will fill itself, with sleep, I hope for your sake.

Scrunch those toes to close, then let them relax and let go,
Half close those toes and let them loose, shake them once and again,
Tense those calves, feet pointed at the ceiling, if you are willing,
Go half way and shake the tension away, from you,
Quads and hamstrings, next remember in pretext, full and halfway,
shake the tension away,,
gluteus maximus
then abdominals
and lower back
and in their turn
chest, those pecs to reflex and relax
latissimus dorsi, my oh my you got your back
shoulders,
hands of fingers, just like the toes,
pretty soon you might doze,
forearms, biceps and triceps too,
neck and face shrug and scrunch,
you don't have the answer,
so pucker your face,
eyes are the last close them once,
eyes are the last close them half,
eyes are the last,

I hope you never read this far,
unless you are awake, after a
night of rest fullness, so if it does
not work, know this, I will sit by
your side so you can unwind,
I have a good year for listening,
on pillow soft words, for you to put
your sleepy heavy head.


Good...night...yawn

I wish,
I was a squirrel,
I'd make people hurl,
Get that girl,
I'd go the distance,
To find resistance,
I'd chitter and chatter,
Yell it's my planet too,
Control my own fate,
I'd muster up irons,
And fire those nuts,
Count up the squad,
Workout the Quads,
I'd be the biggest,
Baddest ***,
The other squirrels,
Would come churl,
At my fine witness,
My pretty fitness,
With giant fluff tale,
And nest fit for the stars,
I'd be a royal pain,
For my own gain,
I'd show them hows its done,
How things are meant to run,
A mental score,
The acres of treedom,
Scream out my freedom,
At home in the forest,
****** ******,
Bitter end,
Revenge on the mend,
The master of my own den,
I'm a nut,
I'm a squirrel,
I'm a tree,
I'm me,
Nature's finest,
Mother's creation,
Father's Love.

she creates moments in her head
a rush of panic
heart pounds so hard
oxygen faults
where is it?
um
um
oh
wait
****
fists clench and quads ache
i do this to myself
to stay alive?
no
I don't know

I'm missing the smell of sunscreen splattered in white blotches across my wind chapped cheeks, that will soon blend in with the snow
I'm missing the three layers of socks I yank on and stuffing my boots with shakeable hand warmers because my toes always freeze
I miss the sound of heel toe heel toe heel toe as the hard plastic boots click against grated metal stairs down to the buses
I miss the smell of hot chocolate and barbecue in the air and snow flurries tenderly kiss my face floating downwards
I miss the sound of the chair lifts thud thud thud and clicking my skis together to shake off the fresh powder that has accumulated
I miss the sound of my poles hitting each other accidentally, and the dots they make in fresh champagne powder between the glades
I miss the feeling of relief when I ski into the four points lodge by sunshine peak and grab a cafeteria trey and get my usual macaroni and cheese
I miss the feeling of watching snow flurries melt as they land inside my hot chocolate that tastes cheap and watery but so warm
I miss singing songs on the lifts, especially the quads, and deciding which runs to do next, black blue or green?
I miss saying mountain words like "elk head, jackrabbit, slopes, hockey stop, sunshine express, morningside, storm peak, thunder- head" the list goes on
I miss feeling completely at home in a helmet, huge goggles, fleece chilis and a ski jumper
I miss Steamboat, I miss skiing, I can't wait for this year.

You know where you're going.
So when it comes,
Acknowledge and appreciate
The day that I come home late at night
for the 113th night in a row
and there are bumps and bruises kissing my bones,
there are dirt and grass stains painting my knees and clothes,
there are patches on the gear, on the pants, on the skin
from rips of rad that stroke my discomfort and
grant me a fight to win against fear.
and there are eye wrinkles forming around
bags of forgotten sleep and sexytimes
that make me feel worthy of nothing more,
yet everything more still comes.
And I clamor in the doorway hand in hand
riding giggles with an innate and undying flirtatious hilarity
into a house that radiates warm simplistic comfort
but has no locks
so I may come and go
to and fro
from everyday new adventures and
new states and new sights and new lives
but always back to the dog-fur lined rug
that tickles my circletoes as I ****** a tasty beer
to wash away the dust that coats my guzzling esophagus
filling my belly with the mountain’s leftovers
and satisfying my hunger for another day
but not until the sun rises and it is morning and I must be alive
to smooch the lips of the most important creatures
puppies, kittens, boys with fingertoes,
whose love is constant as
the beating of my wild and beefy heart
and the breathing of my battered and blessed breath
with the silence and rest within it
,between each passionate burst,
as understood yet persevering as
any will we have to live our lives beyond the mundane.
They are Nature’s gifts that make me owe her
something greater that gratitude,
so I go out at morning light each day and play with the winds
and babysit the plants and learn from the birds
who send me off with homework about listening
and about singing songs out of selfless selfishness
not for other people
but with the intent to make people listen and
make it change them for better
whether they want it to or not.
and sometimes the lessons are tough,
harder than rocks that teach them.
Sometimes the work goes untouched on my desktop
and I get lost in Milky Way patterns
made by the Sun’s best friends on a drunk getaway
but then I find my way back by a road of traced constellations
on the moley chest of the ultimate mountain man,
who flips back open my books and
points to nirvana among the pages of life’s endless studies,
emphasizing and underlining key points with
pens of self-awareness and highlighters of supportive independence.
Then bookmarks important parts with reminders of the first time
he licked his lips to savor the sweet taste of a tough cookie
he had tasted only once months before.
A recipe that had been fine tuned away in a hell he left behind
for new homes to be found.
A place he confronted again
to lead a lost soul out and into the world of living and loving.
And loving is what is done
when bears romp beside our sleeping heads and puke garbage belly
but make less of a mess than I do when giddied by that silverlining
that was merely a stormy cloud to those who predicted rain,
And I will not seek to tempt fate nor die unsure of it
but I was jigging in the right place at the right time and
the river of his rain has flooded me with forward momentum,
I will rescue those who cannot stand stronger than the current,
my quads are toned for they've fought the waves until I stood.
And after a hard day of nothing less than that and more,
Zzzztown will welcome me with
joyful snoozing, lekker slaaping, and the tightest dreaming.
And I will wave 'See You Soon' to B-town not alone, finally together
with batted eyelashes and heavy eyelids and sore bodies.

Life as we know it is a chance,
But require made hands to dance,
Then **** on everyone with winning prance.

Reading the moving lips,
Looking for people's reactive bits
And que into people's tips.

It's them ballers,
The high rollers,
With stacks of hundreds of dollars,
The ****** know it all white collars.

With them fancy cars,
Hanging in cliquey bars,
Swinging the club in many pars,
As if some royalty bloodline of a tsar.

But in a game of chance, owning a yacht means nothing without a boat!
All those credit cards mean nothing without the proper cards on the table!

Riches mean nothing in a table, nor nice clothes in a game.
Because even kings and queens could fall flat on their faces with those aces!

So let me tell you little bit about this game,
It's reading people to tame,
Where you grind the game without a shame,
Stepping up to no longer stay the same
It's a game recognize your name to a fame.


Just remember the high cards can get you far,
But get beaten by them deus in a bar,

The pairs are wonderful as it gets higher
jokers bring jokes to her admirer,
While the ladies yell "off with their heads!"

In the royal court Cowboys rule supreme,
But those pair of aces undo royalties like puddle of creme.

Two pairs are better than a pair,
And three of a kinds are better than a two pair,
While the wheel is super fair.

Straight line is common winning line
But Flushes them after a dine

The boat takes them for a cruise,
Quads will get them a bruise,
But the nutz are royal flush of hidden ruse!

It's the mastering of perception,
Made hands with repercussion.

Because life as we know it is a chance,
But requires made hands to dance,
And hold onto your winning chips by ******* on them with your prance.

When you have nothing, there is nothing to lose,
Because Hold'em no limit is the purest form of living a life!




,

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"Blueberry pancakes."

And she got out of bed,
tapped me on the neck with her lips,
a good love tap,
and walked out naked to the kitchen
her *** and quads just bouncing
and beautiful.

I could see her in the kitchen,
all of her,
and i rolled over to her side,
where her pillow was,
took a long drag
of her smell,
and just passed out.

She woke me up
and I dipped blueberries
and fluff into lakes of syrup
and we watched TV and laid together
for a while.

Just close to each other.

I worked on her car the whole day,
changed her oil,
plugged a blown gasket,
and came back in when the streetlights
were starting to flicker on
And that Saturday
I got to lay down with her the rest of the night
and we were realistically happy.

What I really think it was,
was that
our dreams,
when we allowed them to,
coincided
beautifully.

a complement of three legs
kept the realm in a wobbly
modality
to have had a fourth one
would give an upright
totality

as this important limb
was missing in a forgotten
land
the locale disintegrated  
like a pan of moving
sand

the domain being beset by
ills too many to
mention
hence the citizens cried out
for another pole's
attention

a trio of pegs weren't
stable nor
strong
they did violently
shake minus the quads firm
prong

sometime in the future
the whole thing might just
brace
if a solid pin is attached
onto the
place

Acknowledge
The day that I come home late at night
for the 113th night in a row
and there are bumps and bruises kissing my bones,
there are dirt and grass stains painting my knees and clothes,
there are patches on the gear, on the pants, on the skin
from rips of rad that stroke my discomfort and
grant me a fight to win against fear.
and there are eye wrinkles made of fun times
forming around bags of forgotten sleep.

Say thanks for the day that comes
when I clamor in the doorway, hand in hand with selflessness
riding a wave of giggles on a board of undying flirtatious hilarity
into a house that radiates warm simplistic comfort
but has no locks
so I may come and go
to and fro
from every day a new adventure and
new states and new sights and new lives.
Always coming back to the dog-fur lined rug
that tickles my circular toes as I drag them over
on my way to fill a thermos with the tastiest brew
that will wash away the dust that coats my guzzling esophagus
and fill my belly with the mountain’s leftovers, satisfying my hunger.
But not for long, only until the sun rises again and it is morning

And it will be another day that needs appreciating,
for when it gets here I will be alive and called forth
to smooch the lips of the land and its most important creatures
puppies, kittens, bees and bugs
whose love is as constant as
the beating of my wild and hefty heart
and the breathing of my battered and blessed breath
with silence and rest  
between each passionate pulse.
Pauses that will be treated with understanding
by those who love with a kind of love
that keeps persevering
that does not fear dormancy
that is as determined as
our intention to live our lives beyond what is expected.
This type of love and those who share it with me
will be Nature’s gifts that make me owe her
something greater that gratitude,
And at morning light on each day that comes, I will go out
and play with the winds
and babysit the plants
and learn from the birds
who will send me off with homework about listening
and about singing songs out of selfless selfishness:
songs not written for the audience or the demand
but with the intent to make people listen and
make it change them for better
whether they want it to or not.
And sometimes the lessons will be tough,
harder than the rocks and cliffs that provide me a playground between classes.
Sometimes the work will go untouched on my desktop because I know
I will get distracted by the Milky Way patterns splattered around me
made from creative bursts of the Sun’s best friends.
But eventually I will find my way back on a road of traced constellations
on the moley face of the ultimate mountain man,
who will flip back open my books and
point to nirvana among the pages of life’s endless studies,
emphasizing and underlining key points with
pens of self-awareness and highlighters of supportive independence.
And he will bookmark the important parts
with reminders of the first time
that I licked my lips
and loved the salt I tasted
and realized that it is just the right amount for the recipe
that makes the tough cookie that I have turned out to be.
A recipe that has been fine-tuned by role models with a taste for bravery
and better baking skills than Martha Stewart, Rachael Ray, and Paula Deen
Combined.
And these cherished bookmarks will litter life
with humble self-love and prideful love for everything else in the world.

And hopefully a satisfactory love for these days that will come,
The days when loving is precisely what is done at all times,
even while bears nap beside our sleeping heads and puke garbage belly.
I will forgive them because I shouldn't have let them get into the trash
in the first place.
Anyways, it will be impossible to be mad while giddied by the silver lining
that shines around all the bad things that just look like storm clouds
to those who predict rain.
The rain is not under our control, so why fight it?
I will not seek to tempt fate nor die unsure of its reasoning
But rain often seems pretty purposeful
and I know where I am going so I will go with purpose
and I know I will be finding good people
in the right place at the right time
whose importance I will never second guess.

But Never forget to thank them for existing
and recognize that the rain and storms that have flooded me
have also made me a river of forward momentum,
and it will be my duty to rescue those who cannot stand stronger than the current.
My quads are toned for they've fought the waves until I stood.

It will be a long, hard day of nothing less than living fully
and watching plans perpetually come to fruition
and giving all of myself to the earth and others
and lovingly recognizing that I have the life that I have worked so hard to live.
When it is finally time for rest and
the universe, with its royal authority, has knighted me
with all of these gifts and responsibilities,
I will get onto the snoozetrain to ZzzzzTown,
curl up in a beam of moonshine then tuck myself in.
With batted eyelashes, heavy eyelids, sore body,
I will sleep so deeply and dream precisely my reality.
And have not a single dream to tell in the morning,
Except for the occasional one about dragons.

(Discovering my Quad-polar compartments)

But sleep never satisfies
for long. I find myself
dreaming more and more,
vivid, frightful dreams
as real as being awake
but with less control,

movies play through my mind
mirroring the day In some
****** up way,

and just like that,
Like a drug,
sleep loses its ability
to provide escape
because of tolerance.

I watch a snail move slowly
across the flagstone.
I lose track of how long
I've been watching.
Only the thin line of spit
beneath my pillow
lets me know it was
a dream.

Without escape
There is no reward,
No rejuvenation
only confusion,
and that which is
easy is not.

But this quest has
opened my eyes in more ways
than just lack of sleep.

My quad-polar discovery
has helped me identify
these quadrants of my mind.

     God.            Beast.

     ***.              Love.

My quad-polar compartments.
Confused and bewildered
they will not be merged.

The god in me thinks the beast needs to be loved.
The beast in me thinks that *** is a god.
The *** in me thinks that love kills the beast.
The love in me thinks the beast is just ***.

It’s the love I am most afraid of,
At least during those times when
there is a me,
a me that looks down on the quads,
but mostly that’s rare because
I never know who’s
in charge anymore.

It's such a difficult existence
when what’s theoretically
my greatest need is also
my greatest fear.

If I consider this logically
then the conclusion is clear,

that is,
my dedicated inlets
and my spiritual outlets
cannot get along.

*** and love do not co-exist.

At least not in me.

I’m either penetrating inlets
and ignoring outlets
or
seeking mysticism while
the inlets go on wanting.

I have known this for
a very long time.

Maybe if I find
a new island
I could find
a new inlet,

open the outlet
back up.

Heart break.
Massive slits to breathe
After we brake off this date n.
I need *******
Patience. Everlasting love
And conceptual culmination.
Into unfathomable creation.

I need time and space from your ******* face.
And every day that goes by
Notice. **** it I
I've become. A soldier. Of lifes battle cry.
You ******* trapped me so ******* bad. That i
became a picto graph  a flash away from being held for ransom.
In your scrap book. Kinda factory line
Instead I'm seeing jealous glances.
From you and my bestfriend up on your camera slides.
So **** if I.
Evoke a bitter feeling.
Can't stand it right
Sorry for the lack of healing.
But see the me beneath.
The demons.
And the reasons
We both cheated.
Is were both fractured living  damaged lives
Need to
Find a sea of urgent trust.
And retrieve. What trust we must ensure. So maybe we can survive
A choral reef of deep sea meaning
Unexplored. Unless your letting random guys come and land inside...
Oh fuvk I'm getting jealous.
I know its cancerous.
And you deserve to get so mad when I....
******* dance with devils rhymes
**** the chance of metal lids
Now existing in these images
I did drugs.
We both did some ****
We made some kids.....
We got it on. Now were stuck as dad and mom. In the abyss...
With out a clue a ****** hope in hell. And not a ******* *** to ****...
So excuse me
If my mood is rotten.
Think I've gotten more maladaptive.
Habits. In the 5 years we've been rocking this.
Than in some 20 ******* years.
Of smoking ***.
Popping pills. And kamikaze.
Flipping quads. Until
I'm ******* knocked unconscious *****

One must imagine Sisyphus ripped.
Shoulders like Boulders.
Quads like God's.
He was literally doing Olympian training!

strands of platinum purple hair
dispersing the sun's light rays
to the violet tats that lay bare
hiding in lace lingerie
blindfold covering your anxious stare
coal black lipstick saying I dare

shapely stiletto thigh highs
zipped and laced tightly tied
quads to calves in raw hide
hips shaking as your cheeks slide
straddling the table like it's a ride
your every move is bona fide

Sam@062717

One day I realized
That the earth is just
One big computer

Non-action is required

It spins and spins
Around the sun

Is this the real life
Or just a fantasy?

And then I was in my car
Listening to the dogs bark
And the crickets

And the car lights went off
Up the street

As I inserted my key
In and out
The blue light
Of the dashboard

Hold fast to the center

And I pictured myself
In various places
At various times
Picturing
My future life

And thinking how
I'll always feel the same

Blahhhhhhhhh

The suffering saints
Are tired of waiting Jesus
Tired of waiting for your return

Two times and one half
Three years of tribulation
Before the return

I won't ever have a family

And you know what

I'm just going to watch comedy
Again

Hitchhiker's Guide
To The Galaxy

And I got some clothes at Sears
Wandering through the store

Like I wander through the world

I need to eat a bit more
And run a bit less

Because at 6 feet 167
With about a 31 inch waist

The bands on those elastic shorts
Well the small fit a bit better
But the small shorts fit too tightly
Around the quads

And the medium could be a bit tighter
At waist level

So I guess I could gain a few pounds

Bleh
Human Life

These people
I live with
Are completely oblivious
To the danger
This country is in

Completely oblivious

But that's how most Americans are
These days

And when the system is down

Then the real trials will come
No facebook or instagram

Or stupid celebrity news shoes

Maybe our country will be attacked
Who knows

Gotta plan ahead
Buy tighter clothing

In case I drop down in weight
Food may become scarce

I think a difficult time might
Be coming to America

like it were a letter extracted from another:
an iota from a psi (Ψ) -
or   "     from either theta (Θ) or phi (Φ)

ᛉ is not exactly an upside down
cross...
but all things run on
clockwork - here: around here...

but isn't the driving force:
this peter defying gravity
more than... what the "lord" and "savior"
managed with parched lips
upon golgotha:
i seek tel megiddo -
              i seek and i seek
and i'm nowhere to be found:
bound to a blindness that reads:
and this book will be required
reading for years to come!
and we will strive to
keep illiteracy paramount...
come the sudden switch-over...
we'll replace standard
literacy with: attempting
3D experiments on 2D canvas...
with coding the monster project
of a.i. -
    if i were a man that worked
for the n.h.s. and drew blood
for comforts of detail and
the necessity for still-life...

whatever the noun-denotation
of the hippy symbol: ☮...
                i have extracted the rune
from the omicron...

it's not heart-surgery -
                      old father Yr standing:
an elk beside a birch tree...
suppose there might be
some dog-esque antics of
******* against it...
lifting the impossibly invisible
lineage of linen to extract
that: suppose i were attempting
to sit in a saddle and ride a horse:
a dog that i am, *******...

i "suffer" for what zenodotus noted...
✝ 180°...
             i have before me a contest
from last night...
i wasn't even trying
to counter the original...
i started thinking:
how indistinguishable hope
is from doubt...

   clearly: the sensible chargehands
of philosophy in france
came with their existentialism:
in systems in clear-cut-packaging...
there was no room for
a plethora of emotions
associated with doubt...
there was an evolution of
the original statement -
but doubt was never to be invoked...
outright negation
as a pursuit: modus operandi of
sorts...

the original:
   - doubt (dubium) - it's still used...
something is dubious...
   - i doubt (dubio) -
god... so much of ******...
grammar-wise is akin to ancient
latin... pronouns are hidden /
incorporated into words...
  
          i arrived at no clear antithesis (
an-t-fes-sys)
           i didn't pry open
this stale bread with
sartre's outright negation policy
as moveable pieces...
that subjectivity is scarred...
that objectivity is nothing really
but watching shifting goalposts...
or a snooker match
or... a meditation on
neptune...
                  
     the original: dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum...
                            doubt, thought, being...
                dubitum, cogitatio, esse...
     can it... translate like such...
whether antoine thomas aptly capture
the truest of all intents:
so much of thinking goes to waste:
daydreaming - which never manifests
itself in being: anything but...

         i just wanted to come to the synonymous
project origin...
doubt is most certainly a plethora of
emotions: i never doubt by objective
standards: by doubting i am forever
subjected: subjective - etc.
objectivity is a certainty -
doubt doesn't allow me to be objective...
so the origins of a canvas...

but if in the public sphere people
are seriously debating 2 + 2 = 5...
via 2.4 + 2.4 = 4.8 = 5...
and they are... collage educated and...
there's no nuance of custard... leftover?
a butterfly effect...
over "there" there's a hurricane...
i am the anemic butterfly...

i will not come proving that
modern ****** is very similar to ancient
latin... it's painfully obvious to me...
życie: life
  żyje - i live
          życiem: with life...
życiorys - an accenting of life: nuanced -
perhaps even borrowing
from physiognomy...
          etc.

dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum...
  here's my alt. "interpretation":
hope is as uncertain as doubt is...
it's almost foolish to tinge hope with
certainty and doubt with uncertainty...
there's no real hindsight...
to bother with...
my hope is both an uncertainty and
a certainty: a doubled-edging at
the itch... an itch that would require
two hands to scratch it...

how does it sound, therefore?
   spero, ergo cogito, ergo sum...
i hope, therefore i think, therefore i am...
the original proof is undisturbed...
   pronoun that becomes a verb-complex
for an otherwise inactive noun
  spero becomes spe(s)...
                         cogito becomes cogitatio...
sum becomes esse...
                    
it's not very much different...
the original is intact...
all i'm attempting to deduce is that:
hope is very much a doubt...
that hope is doubt...
that both hope and doubt fathom
the same replica of emotions
in their bouquet of: deadening actions...
it's an impossible standard
for moving: the impossible
object: perhaps it was a pseudo-Sisyphus
tasked with inventing
telekinesis and moving
a mountain instead of a stone...
after all: it's not like someone
was tasking him with the deed
for eternity:
  a midnight cleaner in an office
block...
the tormented could have
simply sat and befriended
the stone with thought...
          without having to move it...
a stone a nuance of mirror...
a test to agonise the olympians
for having otherthrown
their predecessors...
time wasted... time earned...
    give me limbs of gravity...
give me: soul...
and i will outlast the gods lost
to their... belligerence...
no war against things inanimate!
always the war of tricks and ploys
to masquerade their own
inhibitions: taming that ol' sod
from the exploits of the harem etc.:
don juan-esque exploits conquering
a nun...
  
  it's such a boredom to:
not turn into an oak... wake in the night...
to settle for the polyphony of
falling rain... an imitation
of a time-dial where otherwise...
creep: sand is otherwise invoked...

the dictum commonly referred to as?
the cogito? shouldn't it be commonly
referred to as: the cogitans -
i.e. from res cogitans (thinking thing)
doubly i.e. the thinking
rather than: the i think?
a definite article invoked as precursor
to an escaped pronoun from
the clutches of latin wording?
the i? an i?
                ah...          "self"... / selb...
a norwegian pyre...
          joan of d'arc...
                                    
         it has to become an absolute indistinctness:
indistinguishable: ability:
            indistinguishability -
a lack of an ability: spell that in math:
a nuance of quadratics?
am i to exhaust my memory
bank of: what's phonetically simplest
and what has to become
this monstrosity of encoding?
parle parle parle...

i have to arrive at:
dubito & spero to be: indistinguishable:
before the sobering blow of:
cogito... that also requires an
outlet into being: of sorts...
i cannot distinguish between
hope and doubt...

      both are plethoras riddled
with mine of exploding salt...
i'm wounding myself on a crease...
it's hardly a thirsty dagger -
how would poetry of puritanical narration
freed from a theatre and a supposed
audience... entertain
a seance with bilingual schizoid
quads?
the hyper-inflated status of
native speakers...
the denigration of bilingualism as:  
oh: this little "thing" acquired...
nothing more: since not born
with...

it's blatantly apparent:
i couldn't possibly teach...
push a buggy through a muddied trench
i just might...
howl to satiate the moon
with a tinge of blue
and watch as blood turns to ink
on this illuminating scythe of
forwarded futures:
we must acknowledge a past
as a guilt and never a nostalgia...

Hecate: hecat(e) contra: hey-cat-e!
it's not impossible in how
the syllables cascade / are juggled...
god bless the sober judges
of the last remaining shadow:
as standard: before the execution
come noon...

                i am yet to read any phonetic
encoding from africa:
except for the hieroglyphics:
which have become a emoji standard
for: limp owl ghost limb etc.
why is it odd that
asiatic people, notably the chinese:
cannot write narrative:
and their poetry is only haiku?

spaghetti: even though they have
ownership of noodles...
it's not like these people have
words: they wish they could sing...

but if if you have such
syllable complexity as
𡔈 (chu) - not chew: choo-choo...
and that's already so complex...
but arrives back at
Marco Polo's altar that sacrifice
of c + h + u...
what's stopping you
from... exfoliating in:
an art designed for either
sanskrit spreschen or the arab jolly
bunch of camel jockeys?

well... it's not like 0 was ever
to be derived from a squashed
doughnut of oMICRON...
never!
   beta 8...
                  god! n'eh-ver!
if you were burdened with beijing...
syllables: no words...
no ******* words!
you wouldn't... somehow...
exfoliate in numbers?!
shrimp **** applause?
i stopped minding
the pride of africa a long time ago:
let's 'ave 'em those long
trunks of elephant
and blonde ***** attache:
trunks of: ***** ***** wooly woo...

but if you have complex
syllables: like the chinese have...
hell... the fugazi shoguns attempted
a dial-back...
simplified their efforts...
there's still that persistence for
'aiku...
       counts! the sticks! ths stones!
arrives back with tonnes
of matchsticks and no clarity
of: how a wild fire does so:
pre-emptive automaton d'uh:
'cos' no: that fog in the rational mind
of man has to persist...
incistently...

                like a borrrowing from
insomnia...
but you can imagine...
letters "magically" turned into
numerical grievances
and a system of germartia was spawned...
for the office of the grand rabbi
of kiev...
A would have to equal 1...
B subsequently 2...
but the ol' hebrews decided
to keep their vowels niqab to begin with...
so that became a lost cause...

officially the hebrew have an alphabet
with not vowels...
with exception the gay Adams
of Ayin and Aleph...
        i will not hand-over
this hangover for much longer...
by designation of the tribe and for the tribes'
allowance sake...
i curse the moon: i howl after it:
cognitivelly:
to free my neighbours from
the reality i have to digest...
call it metaphorical howling if you must...
i have, to, heave... this...
junction of "coincidences"!
i am mad for the purpose of taming
a tongue: arrogance need master(ing)...

tired wheels: the same old burnt rubber
as made synonym with muscular
tension...
the same wheel of crushing heel!
i am my own less arrogant
finnish quake dressed in mystery
of a bothersome dwarf and troll...
learn beijing secrecy they say...
escape the mundane emoji heiroglyphs...
what word in any of these african
tongues was ever inscribed
in a system of phonetic encoding?
it took me years to unearth...
yes: a GALOGOLITIC system
was there...
i was looking for the antithesis
of runes...
before the greeks and tha latin brats
spoiled
the adventure...

i'm asking without judging concerning:
how you can simply come:
come this anti-thetical mathemtical
brain-drain: slave-whipping
and tell not grieving authority:
this is, how... you will... GRIEVE!

in england: for a people that have
never been licked: teased by a mongolian
horde: only extracting -
"*******" sold by their own
aristocracy - coming to h'america...
i am! offended!
samuel l. jackson plays a common
robber armed with a 12" *****'s
worth of a shotgun!
i am! most! offended!
here's to the goon sq.!

           after all... linch me with
the sauerkraut: too many vowels...
too many vowels...
always with these ******* vowels!
like they simply forgot to
castrate the choir! ****'s sake!
if there's a bounty for an ottoman
castrato! i'll willingly pay for one!
i don't exactly feed a need
to **** one... as long as ******
hits the highest pitch notes of
squeel...
              to have exported africans:
olympic sized...
they didn't solve the "problem"
of intellectual jews without a sense
of irony: arbeit macht frei is...
well... a maxim for...
the germans having to glorify
the physical splendour of african
bodies... notably...
intellectual glorifications
remain in the gutters and the concentration
camps...
in the dust and grievances...
the mind is not allowed
telekinesis...

    i stand before a mirror and pretend to
chew...
its not exactly known as to what...
but i mimic -

九       which is 'nine': 9...
         denotes: jiu: a french concept of sauce...
that it's not "really" is another
poker hand refraining
from: the ol' 19th century wild card
romance of: we comes
as prior to the comes
of the conquistador comes...
having ****** the mayans
and the aztecs into...
the pyramids of giza?
no apple & pears?

the altar? elevated?!
             i come cannibal...
for the glory of the one true god:
yes... he has found new flesh...
bound to the scrutiny of africa
and the dull shamanism of mammon...
kneeling bloods of african-can-cannah...
moi?! truant jew?!
when this adventure took off...
my little people of north eastern
europe: concept...
where not invited into the history
of the roman empire...
don't ask me why they had
to focus on whittle ol' precursor
imitation afghanistan that's
now hang-man's-land
of -ing...
                          borrow me some sorrow
from can-can-attache?
or... haughty-stray-layla?!
                 to live among the scots...
is to best forget one's attempt
to live among:
white-flight Loondon...
         honest as might: becomest a
birth of a kippah donning god...

you want... a translation?
         łąnt... i can that i can...
translate phonetically...
it's to no one's aid:
unless i'd be scribbling with
choice of either braille or morse...
i WANT... look at that...
rigidness of letters...
then let it come alive!
add some diacritical scrutiny...
let european breathe into it!

crab bucket list: listing the near impossible:
deimension of: to do...
like my first and last litany of
best kept secrets...
this wettening of an oink:
strapped to an over-gresed...

to tell a solemnly swear:
this grit of supposed demoracy -
one lie is ahead:
thirty more to somehow make
it to: a coming...
i die a ******: not being one...
there's this lost ambition and there's
this ambition and karma
and a plot narration apiece
with: all the sensible saints
and hardly: any of them:
arrive at an angelic status...

what i once imagined:
as a freedom to think:
to narrate without a need to pursue
mute onto paper...
i once imagined thinking
to be aa freedom above speaking...
little did i want...
that it had to become
this itch for trigger happy...
and the octopus of hands
that learned a new lesion...
a tightening of tendons...
an overworked scrutiny of muscular
fibre... fat for brains...
to have to congregate upon
this same altar...
this same:

   given an... wait for it...
entre-prunal..  
french is "bad": english is just
as bad..
i see a tree: there's a forest...
scholarship: a word i want to be
left with...
entreprenaurel..

that's obviously a wrong
spelling... must be drunk irish...
must be...
        entry-pre-nautical...
entrepreneurial...
          pre-               neurotic?
god give the next
beijing latex queen tiger:
the power to spell...
    or rewrite a 9... into a new...
or neu...
                      wery much like
a sam weller to question my
sancho...
because the opera is a forever:
forever always sing-along...

it's almost a necessary joke...
what's the differene
between an anglo-saxon workaholic
and a west-slavic... alcoholic...
the latter doesn't call
you 10 minutes to 9pm
come a friday
with... neurotic demands
for a frivolous scrutiny of:
monday's are ripe...

the bad taste in my mouth:
i'm missing both a tooth
and a moth...
that anglo-saxons pair up
with the japanese:
consitency:
it's not infamous: it's true:
arbeit macht frei...
it's a solid mantra for:
peoples lost to the cogs
and machinery:
as i demand to watch:
humanity... suffer...

            it's almost very much so:
humanity requires this pseudo-deity
this demigod:
this shame-riddled observer:
third party "spokesman"...

i want to hear...:
the creasing of the cushion...
the arithmetic closure for...
bones that might have
concerned themselves
the completed "architecture" of:
sitting in a chair...
as one Iowan might translate to...
the hybrid promises of: a lot of Maine...
give me a losing promise:
this last craze!
i heave to have to dabble:
this old soviet curse!

this is not my tongue!
'ere! hear how i drop:
zeppelin conjunctions!

translate?!
dies ist nicht mein zunge...
hier: hören ich wie fallen:
  ladybirds auf: Livonian...
cruss... little be of V...
gott, mit, unß!

crescendo!      
get african multi-african: proper
******...
come prokofiev's battle
of the ice...
******* mongrel shelter
smacker erst piece...
you who do not own
a history of my my, own...
who are the arabs
concerning the quest
for explaining the niorthern
crusades!
barbarossa was pickled!
tired arabs?!
here: now!
hier: jetzt!
                teutonic branding
of colours:
schwarzkreuz: auf..
                  weißtaubefeder!

and i am... somehow... expected:
to tire of the forthcomings of
a "delicate" past?
this english ignoble... precursor...
**** the hellish all that
might require: needs to Elgar!
who is Elgar?!
who the **** is Elgar?!

i tire of a people that are yet to know
the experiece
being involved in a mongolian: tirade...
or... a post-scriptum of... ha!
sever... this grandiosity:
this teutonic plague!

Rumbling thoughts, Open doors
My mind trying to process as words pop.
Voices in my head saying the world is yours, but the pain in patience constantly hurts.

I don't want to die young though my actions says otherwise
Playing with fire,walking through life tides.
Dreams like wings holding me from drowning as my heart beats, reminding me of timing.

Doomed never to look back.
Even if the journey seems vague, life's lessons will paint pictures on this mysterious canvas.
Make the trees a pathway to nirvana as the herbs brings solace
Keep an open mind when the clouds walk on water.

Always been a rebel.
Never followed the crowd, "Anti-law" if it's allowed.
causing grimace on faces when expected to blench, back sitting outlaw guaranteed never to flinch.

Beauty within the thorns.
But above all a hopeful heart,
Curious mind and spontaneous acts will always keep these quads in motion.

Satchel strap, knotted, both ends -
bag slip, not good.
Wrecking my shoulder blades,
too heavy, 'nough said.
Weights made-up, by drivers, usually.
Chasing the clock too.
Daily, endlessly.  

Man on bike, best combo, feels right:
By car is faster of course,
walks timed using them -
quads like an Olympian
and you've no chance, of matching 'em.

Heavily-sprung, hinged - left, right or top!?
Vertical ones, ridiculous, seriously?
Letterboxes, they bite,
literally, metaphorically.

The rain IS a pain, horrendous.
Letters become scrambled mess.
Smeared addresses.
Renders postcodes illegible,
M14 2WZ.

Snow is worse, laughs at wheeled transport,
making every step treacherous.
Don't trust the slush and the frozen mush;
Others sent home, but my mail must get through, apparently.

Part-timer equals second-rate citizen.
Lifers get the best walks, which aren't equalised,
no matter what they say.
Bosses, incompetent morons,
promoted through ranks like in WW1, clueless.
****-up, brewery, nuff said,
they tolerate too much tom-foolery.

No dignity at work, none, zero.
Sexist, racist, homophobic heroes.
Mindless chants about *** and ****, penises and ****.
**** this ****, juvenile morons.

Overtime's a crime, claim it before it's earned,
then argue the toss over 2.5 hours for the next three weeks.
Costing them a fortune, like this ****** welfare state is;
money for nothing and your hits for free.

But I'm fitter and slimmer, more toned and tanned.
Take in my pants at leg, waist and the seat, one size down.
“Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels" is mostly appropriate.  

Blind, ****-offs, flats, notice-lefts,
Recordeds, specials or regis, if you're old school
Gone away, RTS, addresee not known,
"He died, he died, he died!" Funny, but sad.

Households, door-to-doors, hated by one and all; deliverer and receiver.
"The customer wants them” -
that's why they bin them as we turn our backs to deliver more unsolicited DM.
Sell outs. sold out. The customer, quite simply, don't count.
Royal Mail, epic fail.
I die with each one I deliver.
Do my best to avoid them,
sign up customers left & right to refuse 'em.
Unite, posties, unite.
Untie people, yourself from these mindless bundles,
dropping through your doors.
Say no, no more, please.  
No.

The locals invite us for an evening game;
the town has 27 residents
and most worked today.

The Rampart team comes slowly,
dressed in waders and mitts in hand,
riding quads with beer coolers
in back.

They take the field first,
arrayed against a forested
backdrop and smoking,
all of them smoking
drinking running running
running as the softball skips
across the ground like so many
days flown by too quickly.

We mark ten runs and swap,
taking places with 11pm shadows
following us.

The never-setting sun
plays with our hair
as one hand might
play with the wind while driving,
that is, all fingers;
our own are spread between leather
webs and dusty stitches;
the ash on our hands
settles into our palm lines;
and we play deep into the night
on a gravel airstrip overlooking
the Alaskan interior.

Our home turned into a prison,
Porting all my lectures online,
Working in quiet desolation,
Long past midnight.

Afraid to go out not for myself,
But for fear of bringing home,
What could prove a deadly contagion,
To the woman I love.

No long commute to work, it's true,
But also no sea of bright faces,
Greeting me, motivating me,
Giving meaning to my life.

No beautiful campus to walk through,
No national arboretum,
With foliage lazily unfurling,
From a long winter slumber.

No squirrels scurrying about,
Begging for treats or rummaging,
In waste paper baskets for discarded,
Gastronomic treasures in the quads.

No tender tendrils of tulips and,
Daffodils tentatively reaching,
Through their earthen blankets,
In search of the sun.

No sea of fresh faces hovering,
Throughout campus like,
Glorious butterflies freshly reborn,
From ten thousand chrysalises.

Each with the face of an angel,
Eyes bright and curious,
Looking ever onward to futures,
Where all doors yet remain open.

I am old when not in their presence,
But always young when among them,
As if newly emerged from my chrysalis,
Reborn, renewed, rewound.

Technology is wonderful,
I embrace it in most of its forms,
But human interaction is not meant,
To be reduced to bits and bytes.

I want my classrooms back.
I want my students in them.
I want them, my loved ones, friends, and colleagues,
All whole, safe and fear-free again.

This too shall pass. I know.
And yet I see the daily death numbers grow.
Death all around where my loved ones live.
Both here and in Spain. Both today and tomorrow.

I don't care at all for myself,
I've had a good life, most of it,
In the company of loved ones and,
Students become colleagues become friends.

But lives far more precious than my own to me,
Are at risk and I am helpless to do anything about it--
Save for staying indoors, in my self-imposed cell,
Surrounded by dead leaves and nary a butterfly.

Free from the anxiety holding pads
Taking combos trying to remember
Blocking low kicks to the quads
Pads blocking his face from high kicks
Learning to fight from a distance
Fighting inside smothers punches
The momentum could smack hard
Loud pops against the leather
Forgetting everything that's troubling
Wanting to heal be normalish
Focused on footwork coordination
Shifting body weight with pivots
Knee strikes to the midsection
Teeps to throw off opponents balance
Controlling the head working the clench