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"reporting" poems
Milyun-milyong mga blankong mukha, pipintahan, papahiran ng pintora ang iba’t ibang kastilyo ng pangarap. Subalit sa paglipas ng panahon ang mga kastilyong ito’y rurupok, at sa isang ihip ng hangin ay pwede ‘tong gibain. Masasanay kang matalo, para sa atin ‘tong mundo. Para sa atin, hindi para sa kanila, kailanman hindi ‘to masasakop ng mga mapapait na luha. Nasanay ka na sa panonood ng mga teleserye o pelikulang kung ano ang theme song ay ‘yon din ang pamagat. Nasanay ka nang mag-abang sa paiba-ibang kulay na buhok ni Vice Ganda, o ni Yeng Constantino, ang umasa rin sa paiba-ibang desisyon ng mga tao sa paligid mo. Nasanay ka nang magmahal ang gasolina, at iba pang mga bilihin ngunit hindi ang magmahal ng totoo, dahil takot kang masaktan ulit, ang iwanan, o umasa ulit, sa isang relasyong pang-post lang sa FB, IG o Twitter, ‘yong pang-“#relationshipgoals” lang, nasanay ka na pero takot ka pa rin. Nasanay ka na sa mga surprise quiz. Sa exams. Sa reporting. Sa thesis. Sa Singko, INC, Withdraw o Drop. Sa pag-jaywalking, dahil late na naman sa 7:30 AM class. Sa paulit-ulit na sorry. Sa paulit-ulit ding pagpapatawad. Sa paghahanap ng ka-red string. Sa paghahanap ng ka-forever. Sa mabagal na internet. Sa job interview. Sa gobyerno. Masasanay ka ring matalo dahil ganito ang konsepto ng mundo. Patitikman ka muna ng pagkabigo, bago ka ulit maging buo. Baka rin bukas-makalawa maiisipan mo nang mag-aral ng mabuti at iwasang ang usapang mabote, ang bumangon ng maaga at hindi papatayin ang naka-set na alarm, ang maging totoo sa taong nagmamahal sa ‘yo, o kaya subukang ipa-Photoshop ang 2x2 picture mo sa resume para sa paparating na job interview. Masasanay ka ring matalo, masasanay ka rin sa mga peklat mo sa puso. Dahil hindi ito matatapalan ng pulga-pulgadang concealer ng Maybelline, o kahit ubusin mo pa ang stock sa AVON, sa Watson, sa HBC, o sa Lazada. Kaya tanggapin mo na lang na ang buhay ay puno ng pagkatalo, dahil sa huli para sa atin din naman ang mundo, kaya wala kang dahilan para sumuko, dahil ang sumusuko lang ang natatalo, at ang hindi takot sumubok ulit ang tunay na panalo.
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Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 8:03 PM UTC
Masasanay Kang Matalo, Para Sa Atin Itong Mundo
Milyun-milyong mga blankong mukha, pipintahan, papahiran ng pintora ang iba’t ibang kastilyo ng pangarap. Subalit sa paglipas ng panahon ang mga kastilyong ito’y rurupok, at sa isang ihip ng hangin ay pwede ‘tong gibain. Masasanay kang matalo, para sa atin ‘tong mundo. Para sa atin, hindi para sa kanila, kailanman hindi ‘to masasakop ng mga mapapait na luha. Nasanay ka na sa panonood ng mga teleserye o pelikulang kung ano ang theme song ay ‘yon din ang pamagat. Nasanay ka nang mag-abang sa paiba-ibang kulay na buhok ni Vice Ganda, o ni Yeng Constantino, ang umasa rin sa paiba-ibang desisyon ng mga tao sa paligid mo. Nasanay ka nang magmahal ang gasolina, at iba pang mga bilihin ngunit hindi ang magmahal ng totoo, dahil takot kang masaktan ulit, ang iwanan, o umasa ulit, sa isang relasyong pang-post lang sa FB, IG o Twitter, ‘yong pang-“#relationshipgoals” lang, nasanay ka na pero takot ka pa rin. Nasanay ka na sa mga surprise quiz. Sa exams. Sa reporting. Sa thesis. Sa Singko, INC, Withdraw o Drop. Sa pag-jaywalking, dahil late na naman sa 7:30 AM class. Sa paulit-ulit na sorry. Sa paulit-ulit ding pagpapatawad. Sa paghahanap ng ka-red string. Sa paghahanap ng ka-forever. Sa mabagal na internet. Sa job interview. Sa gobyerno. Masasanay ka ring matalo dahil ganito ang konsepto ng mundo. Patitikman ka muna ng pagkabigo, bago ka ulit maging buo. Baka rin bukas-makalawa maiisipan mo nang mag-aral ng mabuti at iwasang ang usapang mabote, ang bumangon ng maaga at hindi papatayin ang naka-set na alarm, ang maging totoo sa taong nagmamahal sa ‘yo, o kaya subukang ipa-Photoshop ang 2x2 picture mo sa resume para sa paparating na job interview. Masasanay ka ring matalo, masasanay ka rin sa mga peklat mo sa puso. Dahil hindi ito matatapalan ng pulga-pulgadang concealer ng Maybelline, o kahit ubusin mo pa ang stock sa AVON, sa Watson, sa HBC, o sa Lazada. Kaya tanggapin mo na lang na ang buhay ay puno ng pagkatalo, dahil sa huli para sa atin din naman ang mundo, kaya wala kang dahilan para sumuko, dahil ang sumusuko lang ang natatalo, at ang hindi takot sumubok ulit ang tunay na panalo.
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70
Breaking News A Robinson’s affair It has been called party goers in beware The Pelican Club know fore shoot outs There are also fights to talk about The Chef’s have been making guest sick The Pelican Club is not a good pick The ratings of the club had been very low Business is certainly somewhat slow As a poet journalist, I will tell you, “Let the Pelican Club go” The Flamingo Club is the place to be When you walk inside this is what you will see Flamingo bird statues decked out in black and white with an offset of red bowties Music that will make you serene in an automatic dance The whole atmosphere will put you in a trance Yet each dancing step you will seem to advance All kinds of drinks for you to sup However don’t forget to leave a tip The Flamingo Club will make you feel special like the bird itself The Flamingo Club is not like everybody else This journalist being the poet in reporting in what you needed to know It goes too show Take in the Flamingo Club and just let senses go.
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Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 5:34 AM UTC
FLAMINGO’S SIGHTINGS
There is a young lady called Anna. She is a loner. She lives alone with her two cats. They are her world. I am a cat lover myself and have 2 little cuties in my nest. But these cats are just plain feral. They terrorise the other cats in the neighbourhood and **** in all the neighbours’ garden. She works Monday to Friday for a recruitment company. She leaves her flat in a purple Mazda convertible which is renowned for being a Hairdresser’s (AKA dumb **** car. Every day she leaves at 7.30am on the dot and every day she arrives home at 7.15pm on the dot. Once at home she turns on her TV cinema system (sub), just to watch the TV. ***** At the weekend she also leaves her stinking putrid ******* bags out in the communal hallway. ***** She ignores her neighbour’s knocking on her door. She ignores the notes that they put through her letterbox. ***** So as Anna was not willing to speak to her neighbours directly. They had no other way to turn apart from to report her to Environmental Health for playing her TV cinema system (sub) too loudly and also for the disgusting ******* that she regularly leaves out in the communal hallway. ***** In which she returns the compliment by reporting them (said neighbours) to the Environmental Health for: 1) Shouting at each other, 2) Talking too loudly, 3) Banging kitchen utensils on the floor when she is in her kitchen How deluded is this ***** At the same time that her neighbours reported Anna to the Environmental Health they also spoke to the Community Support Officer. They advised them to contact the Mediators in their local area. Which of course they did. The Mediators arranged to visit one evening. Unbeknownst to them they parked in Anna’s allocated parking space. Once they had finished with her neighbours, the Mediators returned to their car. Just as they were about to reverse their car, Anna arrived home in her Mazda convertible and blocked them in. ***** When she got out of the Mazda convertible, with attitude I might add, she asked the Mediators who they were. They then introduced themselves. Once she knew who they were, she invited them into her flat to hear her side on the story. YES I AM HER ******* NEIGHBOUR AND YES I AM STILL WAITING TO HEAR BACK FROM THE MEDIATORS……
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Jan 30, 2010
Jan 30, 2010 at 11:21 PM UTC
Inconsiderate Neighbour!
There is a young lady called Anna. She is a loner. She lives alone with her two cats. They are her world. I am a cat lover myself and have 2 little cuties in my nest. But these cats are just plain feral. They terrorise the other cats in the neighbourhood and **** in all the neighbours’ garden. She works Monday to Friday for a recruitment company. She leaves her flat in a purple Mazda convertible which is renowned for being a Hairdresser’s (AKA dumb **** car. Every day she leaves at 7.30am on the dot and every day she arrives home at 7.15pm on the dot. Once at home she turns on her TV cinema system (sub), just to watch the TV. ***** At the weekend she also leaves her stinking putrid ******* bags out in the communal hallway. ***** She ignores her neighbour’s knocking on her door. She ignores the notes that they put through her letterbox. ***** So as Anna was not willing to speak to her neighbours directly. They had no other way to turn apart from to report her to Environmental Health for playing her TV cinema system (sub) too loudly and also for the disgusting ******* that she regularly leaves out in the communal hallway. ***** In which she returns the compliment by reporting them (said neighbours) to the Environmental Health for: 1) Shouting at each other, 2) Talking too loudly, 3) Banging kitchen utensils on the floor when she is in her kitchen How deluded is this ***** At the same time that her neighbours reported Anna to the Environmental Health they also spoke to the Community Support Officer. They advised them to contact the Mediators in their local area. Which of course they did. The Mediators arranged to visit one evening. Unbeknownst to them they parked in Anna’s allocated parking space. Once they had finished with her neighbours, the Mediators returned to their car. Just as they were about to reverse their car, Anna arrived home in her Mazda convertible and blocked them in. ***** When she got out of the Mazda convertible, with attitude I might add, she asked the Mediators who they were. They then introduced themselves. Once she knew who they were, she invited them into her flat to hear her side on the story. YES I AM HER ******* NEIGHBOUR AND YES I AM STILL WAITING TO HEAR BACK FROM THE MEDIATORS……
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Breaking News A Robinson’s affair It has been called party goers in beware The Pelican Club know about shoot outs There are also fights to talk about The Chef’s have been making guest sick The Pelican Club is not a good pick The ratings of the club had been very low Business is certainly somewhat slow As a poet journalist, I will tell you, “Let the Pelican Club go” The Flamingo Club is the place to be When you walk inside this is what you will see Flamingo bird statues decked out in black and white with an offset of red bowties Music that will make you serene in an automatic dance The whole atmosphere will put you in a trance Yet each dancing step you will seem to advance All kinds of drinks for you to sup However don’t forget to leave a tip The Flamingo Club will make you feel special like the bird itself The Flamingo Club is not like everybody else This journalist being the poet in reporting in what you needed to know It goes too show Take in the Flamingo Club and just let your senses go.
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Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 7:11 PM UTC
FLAMINGO’S SIGHTINGS
I'm tired. I'm tired of it taking more mental energy and self confidence for us to go out in public, than it does most people. I don't blame a person, or religion, its much more than that. I blame society in general, its peer pressure, It's structure designed to keep everyone in small boxes, all thinking the same. I blame manufacturer's for making every item we buy gendered male or female, Just to sell more and make more money. I blame the media for its lies and ignorance when reporting about us.. And I blame us is some ways for allowing it. I blame myself for not doing more, but I'm just too tired of fighting, struggling and having to do it all again tomorrow. I'm Transgender.. And I get tired. by Lj Mark 2015
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Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 10:31 PM UTC
I'm tired
Back in my rebel days (yester) I sported a spelunking bumper sticker On my 1972  VW pop-up camper van That read Free Floyd Collins Totally apolitical well intentioned humor Concerning one of my pasttimes that surprisingly Never maimed or killed me Whilst reporting for an official call for jury duty The uptight and obviously a **** (did I just say that?) Prosecutor enquired during jury selection As to whether any of us prospectives Had bumper stickers and if so What they might say The NRA sticker guy next to me And the I'd Rather Be Fishin'  and NASCAR Sticker guy next to him Passed with smugly flying colors (red needless to say) While the 72 year old nun With the Amnesty International sticker Didn't fair so well And was promptly burned at the stake (I kid you) Needless to say The long-haired Harvard educated Native American With the Doctors Without Borders And the Remember Wounded Knee With a not so discreet AIM sticker thrown in to boot Also got the boot Pondering the merits of the court stenographer's Shapely fingers while judiciously confidently awaiting my turn It never ocurred to me that Mr. Collins might be So wrongly accused as to have me Rejected and summarily ejected From jury duty A travesty of justice I say If for no other reason than I was so looking forward to Sticking it to the Man You can imagine my surprise and disappointment As I wandered down to the Shamrock To catch Terry O'Leary do a slam And raise a glass to Bobby Sands r~ 22Feb14
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Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
The Fine Art of Choosing the Perfect Bumper Sticker
1. If black humour is a sign of intelligence then who is the most intelligent of all? The hurricane that swept the weatherman away while reporting on a supposedly tranquil day? The ravages of nature which left Ozymandias all alone in the midst of the desert? Cruel cruel uncertainty, 2. Cupid sneezed, and let his finger go, A fiat lust led my way, A golden love gone, So, Why, o, why Do you plague me so?
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Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 7:06 AM UTC
Cupid sneezed
"She is so cute!" said the grand mother type in McDonalds today. **"Yes I have heard that said. Every where we go."** Miss Personality makes an impression... on the young and the old.   Purely unintentional. Little head strong at times. Mostly when awake. She will go far. Disagreements with Nana can be fun at times, '"Lucy! Don't do that! No!" Can ping pong three times.   Then must stop.  Or else! On hearing the verbal exchange between the two one day Gpa asked Miss Lucy, **"What part of 'NO' do you not understand?"** The reply coming from Miss Congeniality was an emphatic "The N." Gpa left the room. Laughing held to elsewhere. Reporting to Nana. She is cute at times. Four now... going on fourteen. But still cute.
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Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 10:02 PM UTC
Times
Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. Let me start by saying that there's no need for the exchange of pleasantries, no introductions are necessary, I'm just here to verbally deliver a quick update memo on the progress being made daily. I know you're all busy people so I'll try to be brief and get though this quickly yet thoroughly.  There will also be no time for questions at the end. Let's begin... I've reconstructed the way I think and see, scrapped the old me The lies the devil sold me, told me I was a nobody and I bought into it completely It forcibly held me down, face to the ground and from that angle everything is ugly Tears slowly crawled down my cheeks to their final resting point, silently they turn the dirt muddy But see, I went from a tragedy to a medical anomaly as I reversed the lobotomy With the regrowth of the proper anatomy I ultimately but unnaturally went from an mental amputee to winning endurance marathons easily It's amazing how quickly road blocks turn to speed bumps, almost instantly They may slow me down but getting over them is no longer a problem for me Eventually they will transform entirely into simple mile markers that I pass by on the daily This path, this new journey will get me to the place I was suppose to be originally Finally, after thirty years I'm looking forward to seeing some new scenery, being a part of this life changing movie And with me I've got my two favorite people, Logan and Apphia respectively They bring out the best in me, their love and belief in me drives me They make me wanna be the best me I can be and opened my eyes to my true destiny See, I thought life would be the death of me but truth be told it's a blessing bestowed to me The rebirth metaphorically into this new family has restored my faith in humanity I'm not used to this smile I feel on me, this is crazy, this must be what it feels like to be happy ©2018
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Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 12:47 AM UTC
~•§•~ Reporting Progress ~•§•~
Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. Let me start by saying that there's no need for the exchange of pleasantries, no introductions are necessary, I'm just here to verbally deliver a quick update memo on the progress being made daily. I know you're all busy people so I'll try to be brief and get though this quickly yet thoroughly.  There will also be no time for questions at the end. Let's begin... I've reconstructed the way I think and see, scrapped the old me The lies the devil sold me, told me I was a nobody and I bought into it completely It forcibly held me down, face to the ground and from that angle everything is ugly Tears slowly crawled down my cheeks to their final resting point, silently they turn the dirt muddy But see, I went from a tragedy to a medical anomaly as I reversed the lobotomy With the regrowth of the proper anatomy I ultimately but unnaturally went from an mental amputee to winning endurance marathons easily It's amazing how quickly road blocks turn to speed bumps, almost instantly They may slow me down but getting over them is no longer a problem for me Eventually they will transform entirely into simple mile markers that I pass by on the daily This path, this new journey will get me to the place I was suppose to be originally Finally, after thirty years I'm looking forward to seeing some new scenery, being a part of this life changing movie And with me I've got my two favorite people, Logan and Apphia respectively They bring out the best in me, their love and belief in me drives me They make me wanna be the best me I can be and opened my eyes to my true destiny See, I thought life would be the death of me but truth be told it's a blessing bestowed to me The rebirth metaphorically into this new family has restored my faith in humanity I'm not used to this smile I feel on me, this is crazy, this must be what it feels like to be happy ©2018
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Faceless books relive life as pseudo-abbreviated scribes the tip tapping of helvetica lies reporting banal times falsified laughter coughed up between every three lines Faceless books wasting precious time gathering the masses for the fanfare of a couple of guys and gals. Crippled by conformity to fit within cyber-society for cyber-friends and cyber-lives, virtually living a virtual life without virtually living in the first place. Posing pursed lips and filming grainy video clips one-liners of the wall signers pretending to pretend to care to come off as they actually pretend to care to begin with. Two hundred and plus empty entities and counting, the next person met can subscribe to my life now.
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Feb 16, 2010
Feb 16, 2010 at 8:22 AM UTC
Faceless Books
I love my name. Well, my pseudo name. The name I chose for myself, I am in love with it. Not that I don't like my real name, that name is lovely. It lives in a palace with princes and stars ad magic, and I appreciate my mother for choosing it. It is magic, and I feel that fits me. But my chosen name, my writing name, is a part of me too. Grace Jordan. It holds a pun and a dream and my heart all in one. I always see myself as messy, clumsy, but not in the traditional senses. My mind is a mess and my actions are clumsy, sometimes even thoughtless. I am impulsive and too much of me for me to handle. I see myself as something far from grace. Yet it is a dream. I would love to be poised and handled and stable and graceful. I want to live up to the name I have given myself, so in all honesty it is more of a hopeful promise than a pun, though I always write it off as one. But I doubt I will ever attain that. Not being cynical, merely knowing myself. I love mess, I love spontaneity, I love the chaos that comes with living. I guess in a way I mean to find grace, find peace in the chaos, and be a stable mess. I know it all sounds like contradictions and complexities, but that's all I know, and all I will ever be. So I must work with that and make it my own. Now the heart. Jordan was someone I lost long ago, and he holds my heart and always will. But I can still love, and I can still dance, and I know he would smile at that, so its all that matters. His happiness, and in turn, my happiness. So self-centered, to write an entire piece about my name, right? Well maybe I am a little self-centered. Maybe I have actually learned to love myself a bit, and revel in my own glory. I love my writing self most, I think. And my writing self, in my heart, I will be. Grace Jordan, reporting for life. That's who I will be, secretly.
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Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 10:10 AM UTC
Grace Jordan
I love my name. Well, my pseudo name. The name I chose for myself, I am in love with it. Not that I don't like my real name, that name is lovely. It lives in a palace with princes and stars ad magic, and I appreciate my mother for choosing it. It is magic, and I feel that fits me. But my chosen name, my writing name, is a part of me too. Grace Jordan. It holds a pun and a dream and my heart all in one. I always see myself as messy, clumsy, but not in the traditional senses. My mind is a mess and my actions are clumsy, sometimes even thoughtless. I am impulsive and too much of me for me to handle. I see myself as something far from grace. Yet it is a dream. I would love to be poised and handled and stable and graceful. I want to live up to the name I have given myself, so in all honesty it is more of a hopeful promise than a pun, though I always write it off as one. But I doubt I will ever attain that. Not being cynical, merely knowing myself. I love mess, I love spontaneity, I love the chaos that comes with living. I guess in a way I mean to find grace, find peace in the chaos, and be a stable mess. I know it all sounds like contradictions and complexities, but that's all I know, and all I will ever be. So I must work with that and make it my own. Now the heart. Jordan was someone I lost long ago, and he holds my heart and always will. But I can still love, and I can still dance, and I know he would smile at that, so its all that matters. His happiness, and in turn, my happiness. So self-centered, to write an entire piece about my name, right? Well maybe I am a little self-centered. Maybe I have actually learned to love myself a bit, and revel in my own glory. I love my writing self most, I think. And my writing self, in my heart, I will be. Grace Jordan, reporting for life. That's who I will be, secretly.
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My uncle used to ask often if I had any boyfriends. I realize now after reporting him for molesting me, that he asked me that question because he didn’t want me to be anybody elses.
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Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 5:10 PM UTC
realization.
Eyes popping in distant stares I wonder if a soul inhabits the pair red hair, bombs,guns and drugged? The second killer nowhere to be found but was seen yet disreguarded and most unaware of the eye witness reporting Why cover the details? Something fishy lingers in the air Something remains unshared Motives so unclear but I heard holmes had an obsession with mind control The neuroscience student that spread so much pain and fear conspiracy surrounds like a think cloud like Sirhan Sirhan The scenes shrouded in mystery yet similiar Ever heard of the illegal CIA human research program Rockfeller Commission? Did you know he had a Neuroscience University? Fishy indeed
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Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 11:53 PM UTC
James Holmes:Case Closed?
Ineffable: Too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words; Too sacred to be uttered. -------------------------–-------—------------------------------------------------------------- The whimpered cries of the dying in the rubble of Bangladeshi avarice, announcing we were worthy of life, to which we think to ourselves, agreed upon with our, a whispery, silent amen. The still alive cries of children, tornado-tormented parents screaming unfair, teachers body shielding their charges, whispering save us Lord, from your inventive toys, to which we think to ourselves, a whispery, silent amen. But here comes the Oklahoma tornadoes again, now four more dead in Houston, selecting the innocent, the brave, logic in any of this, none, nonsensical at its worst to which we think to ourselves, a whispery, silent amen. ~~~~~ The first I-am-alive cries of new born lungs, I have grandson, stain-less, perfect, recovering in the stainless steel delivery room, I hear the all babies in the neo-natal unit in unison pronouncing a Hebrew blessing, the Shecheyanu... (Blessed are You, Lord our God, Master of the universe, who has kept us alive and sustained us and has brought us to these special moments) to which we think to ourselves, a whispery, silent amen. These unspoken poem devotions of adoration of the sleeping chamber, that cannot be heard or answered for they're dreamt and perchance in the morning thankfully recalled, enough to be transcribed, to which we think to ourselves, a whispery, silent amen. Ineffable. A day, just another supplying an average day to the mass of average. Birth + Death = an average day. I thank a God for the birth of a newborn perfection On this day the newspapers report about silence of the God others pray to, could be the same deity, reporting that in his holy places, Jew spits upon Jew, Muslims usurp Christian lives, all for none, all forgetting in whose image they were created. to which we cannot say nor think anything. Ineffable. too sacred to be uttered, so instead of the paucity of these unuttered words, know that each tear in the reservoir of my eyes is my unspoken poem prayer., my amen. *Instead of answering amen out loud, wipe my eyes with your fingertips, silently.*
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May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
Ineffable (More Tornado Prayers and Such)
Ineffable: Too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words; Too sacred to be uttered. -------------------------–-------—------------------------------------------------------------- The whimpered cries of the dying in the rubble of Bangladeshi avarice, announcing we were worthy of life, to which we think to ourselves, agreed upon with our, a whispery, silent amen. The still alive cries of children, tornado-tormented parents screaming unfair, teachers body shielding their charges, whispering save us Lord, from your inventive toys, to which we think to ourselves, a whispery, silent amen. But here comes the Oklahoma tornadoes again, now four more dead in Houston, selecting the innocent, the brave, logic in any of this, none, nonsensical at its worst to which we think to ourselves, a whispery, silent amen. ~~~~~ The first I-am-alive cries of new born lungs, I have grandson, stain-less, perfect, recovering in the stainless steel delivery room, I hear the all babies in the neo-natal unit in unison pronouncing a Hebrew blessing, the Shecheyanu... (Blessed are You, Lord our God, Master of the universe, who has kept us alive and sustained us and has brought us to these special moments) to which we think to ourselves, a whispery, silent amen. These unspoken poem devotions of adoration of the sleeping chamber, that cannot be heard or answered for they're dreamt and perchance in the morning thankfully recalled, enough to be transcribed, to which we think to ourselves, a whispery, silent amen. Ineffable. A day, just another supplying an average day to the mass of average. Birth + Death = an average day. I thank a God for the birth of a newborn perfection On this day the newspapers report about silence of the God others pray to, could be the same deity, reporting that in his holy places, Jew spits upon Jew, Muslims usurp Christian lives, all for none, all forgetting in whose image they were created. to which we cannot say nor think anything. Ineffable. too sacred to be uttered, so instead of the paucity of these unuttered words, know that each tear in the reservoir of my eyes is my unspoken poem prayer., my amen. *Instead of answering amen out loud, wipe my eyes with your fingertips, silently.*
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a thigh gap a peering spine a cat eye a cerulean highlighter all of this and more all of this, yours 21 mind-blowing *** tricks 5 ways to convince your doc you've ADHD all of this and more hack your closet hack your pantry your cellar door all of this, yours an e-thank you note Facebook status remorse an it's complicated all of this and more self-checkout automatic hand dryer automatic towel dispenser automatic doors all of this, yours ask Siri where to bury the body ask Jeeves where to buy the Molly Google "the triumph of death" and salute it with Bacardi all of this all of this 42 celebrities who used to have braces 8 Instagram hotties we love 42 gin recipes sure to inspire envy all of this and more how to love yourself how to be a gentleman how to make sure you marry the one all of this yours ******* that read Angel Off Duty boxers that read Reporting for Duty ride the escalator all the way to Jesus's heaven fist bump Little Richard and that kid from Malcolm in the Middle watch St. Peter wave all the **** sorority girls who've recently died in drunk driving accidents to the front of the line breathe, in from the nose out from the nose, pick up a copy of Men's Health and read an article titled 69 ways to incorporate gravy into the bedroom TONIGHT all of this and more all of this, yours
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Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 4:38 PM UTC
A Little Can-Do Attitude
We sit in a circle after In my living room I am talking How my ex who I can not help but love was ***** during this last Halloween How another girl who met another night was corned One kept watch blocked off the section of the house She was ***** by a window She could look out See the other partiers Why was this happening I cry I tell them how I feel helpless I cannot protect the women I love While I’m talking about this He is handling his **** with sick pleasure right ******* next to me I don’t know it but he is thinking about the girl last night and the ones before their screams and their blood how he had gotten away with all five It had happened to the victims before they say reporting Does Not Mean **** I don’t know it but he is thinking of his next victim My mom
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Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC
Helpless Against ****
the world today truly has become the global village once predicted by McLuhan 50 years ago it took three decades longer than he had thought but now we have all real time developments at our fingertips Trump talks to Putin and Duterte & cetera and we know about it right afterward thanks to his tweets that land on our mobile phones suicide bombs exploding in Damascus Baghdad Gamboru Kabul hit us on our social media right away so does the news about a bus that fell into a gorge      all 65 passengers killed      somewhere on the globe or of the cat caught in a sewer pipe rescued by these brave firemen little of all of that adds to our understanding of the universe or might be relevant to our lives a bit more positive reporting is in order at best served as sensational as the bad news      that keeps us occupied yet more important for our daily lives than all this hype about the danger and the devastation that      possibly      or not may happen if soandso does suchandsuch at times I contemplate if it is better to be out of touch and not to care about the news so very much
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Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 4:32 PM UTC
global village news
Laughter at the pirate ship wreck Incarcerated alibi. Self-doubt and enemy envy. Post neurosis mental chariot waiting patient set to test and task the palatial steel ballast. Starting to startle itself awake according to twilight reporting recognized first and focused lazily to be remembered later for the first half percent. Decent decline descending darkness ascending atoms attending arson. Gallant grey nose for cold weather bubbling wound **** streak pillow. Plain sight eyes glazing reminiscent veteran folded over beer bottle drunk at home the unknown soldier. Spirit spear piercing glowing nexus weightless flying high shadows vacant samurai clutch in an adjacent basement. Bleeding bone fractured paper homes manufactured homeless jeering platelet picked and cast like a rune on your first born baby blanket. Hallow, heated, grave displayed, and looped backwards.   Happy fishing!
0
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 7:56 AM UTC
Thoughts from a Ghost Ship
Hobbling out of bed Half dead I'm led To the bathroom The shower a vacuum Of my powerlessness But first i **** Then get in **** out the contaminants Of my ***** habits And i scrub I scrub off The plastic love The mean mug And tug on my **** Plant a vision til it pops And drop To the shower floor Tilt my head back And gurgle to the gods For more Scrub the grill Lay a towel on the floor Suit up for a war Two sprays of cologne And im out the door Headphones on Angels atoning To the morning As im floating Through the fog Descending in my grog Along the path Like a lab rat For a slab of cheese Through the swamps And trees Trampling Dead things And leafs And im seen By nobody As i ascend a hill To the corporate power Where ill cower For nine hours Before reporting home Going to bed And waking up To do it all again Its blue collar zen And im bored So fraking bored With my chores Id rather scribble sounds Into forms Verbal storms Visual cores Implored To explore The tortured Terms in torrents Of turbulent Talks with dead gods And im born Into the horns Ive sworn To protect In widows peaks And deepened Speeches I'm infected With my perfection Torn In the muffled traces Of noiselessness Among the space-less Distances To my sentences Taking out the crackles And recording Over the blemishes Relishing The fragile moments Of eloquence In **** jokes And threatening Gestures Jesting The restructuring Of molesting Verbiage beat Over the mic Delusions enticed In my writes Of fights In long sleepless nights Of rhyming With bad timing And mumbling Of slimy things Bubbling in the cuts Dubsteped to **** fits Sunkissed in lacking curtains Disturbing the certainty Of sleep And cheapening My dreams Rolling over Planting my feet Upon wood floors Hobbling toward Tomorrow Sorrowfully Repeating The same thing Washing away the sleep And fleeing My creativity For the rest of the week (in progress)
0
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC
untitled
Hobbling out of bed Half dead I'm led To the bathroom The shower a vacuum Of my powerlessness But first i **** Then get in **** out the contaminants Of my ***** habits And i scrub I scrub off The plastic love The mean mug And tug on my **** Plant a vision til it pops And drop To the shower floor Tilt my head back And gurgle to the gods For more Scrub the grill Lay a towel on the floor Suit up for a war Two sprays of cologne And im out the door Headphones on Angels atoning To the morning As im floating Through the fog Descending in my grog Along the path Like a lab rat For a slab of cheese Through the swamps And trees Trampling Dead things And leafs And im seen By nobody As i ascend a hill To the corporate power Where ill cower For nine hours Before reporting home Going to bed And waking up To do it all again Its blue collar zen And im bored So fraking bored With my chores Id rather scribble sounds Into forms Verbal storms Visual cores Implored To explore The tortured Terms in torrents Of turbulent Talks with dead gods And im born Into the horns Ive sworn To protect In widows peaks And deepened Speeches I'm infected With my perfection Torn In the muffled traces Of noiselessness Among the space-less Distances To my sentences Taking out the crackles And recording Over the blemishes Relishing The fragile moments Of eloquence In **** jokes And threatening Gestures Jesting The restructuring Of molesting Verbiage beat Over the mic Delusions enticed In my writes Of fights In long sleepless nights Of rhyming With bad timing And mumbling Of slimy things Bubbling in the cuts Dubsteped to **** fits Sunkissed in lacking curtains Disturbing the certainty Of sleep And cheapening My dreams Rolling over Planting my feet Upon wood floors Hobbling toward Tomorrow Sorrowfully Repeating The same thing Washing away the sleep And fleeing My creativity For the rest of the week (in progress)
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121
'As telling lies Is dangerous, To it, you Have to be averse! ' Parents, teachers And society Made me, cherish This mentality. Along the age road The hardest way a new Lesson I did upload. Awaits those, More risk The truth Who opt to speak! For reporting strife, Beating to An inch of their life, Or hacking them with a knife Detaining the innocent Has become rife. Yet come what may Speaking the truth, Is what I choose!
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Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 2:24 AM UTC
Truth Has More Risk
007, A mystery it seems, Bursting through the trees, A beautiful woman on each arm, And shaken martini in hand, Not stirred, Suave and extra hot showers, With all the ladies he's pulled at the bar, Dancing deadly, With bullets and bombs, His enemies growing angry, At his tech and smooth pick up lines, 007, A mystery no more. *James Bond, Reporting for service, ma'am.*
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Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 2:35 PM UTC
007
I am scared. Not just for myself but for all the girls out there. For all those girls who walk home alone really late. For all those girls whose bosses after work hours ask them to wait. For all the young girls who don't even know much about anything yet. For all the women whose husbands or fathers get real drunk after sun set. Why you ask me? Because of all the disgusting stories I've heard and the terrible things I've seen. Because men get away with almost anything. Even if they've ruined a girl's everything. Because y'all don't want to teach boys to treat women with respect. You don't want to teach them to back off when she rejects. You just want to go on about how she should have dressed more appropriately. But even then would he have treated her differently? I don't think so. Because we encouraged this when we failed our girls a long time ago. When we didn't give justice to all those countless women. When we let the guilty men walk away as if they had done nothin'. When we blamed the victim. When we didn't even let her speak and only listened to him. We failed when she stopped reporting even, because she didn't want to make it worse for herself. We failed when we drove her so mad, so devoid of hope that she ended it then and there.
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Aug 24, 2019
Aug 24, 2019 at 2:49 AM UTC
we failed.
Start of the week, news reported fires, viruses, Ukraine. Heart breaking videos hitting the web bullying, torture, ****** News as never stopped reporting fires, viruses, war. Throughout history bullying, torture, ****** never stopped. FASTER TEMPO Fire, viruses, bullying, torture, ****** war, death Sadness, anger, sorrow, regret, fear, pain Start of the week news reported start of the month news reported start of the year news reported everyday news will report every week news will report every month, every year news will report THE EXACT SAME THING
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Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC
The exact same thing
**To Incorporate Institutional Effectiveness into Our Everyday Language** )/)/)/ is updating our assessment plan for Instructional units beginning this fall 2016 semester. After Visiting with /)/, our SACSCOC Consultant and Dr. /) yesterday About our assessment process, it was Determined that it is in our best interest To clarify, verify and hopefully Simplify the current random selection Assessment process. Therefore, in lieu of The use of the random selection process, The plan for this semester and moving forward Is to assess all students in all sections Of courses used in the assessment process And to report data on all students, NOT just assessing or reporting data On a random sample. In order to provide Appropriate artifacts, we will choose Representative samples (examples Of great, fair and low achievement artifacts) To be included in the artifacts Collection for SACSCOC reporting. However, We do still need to collect all artifacts So we have those in the event they are Needed. This will give us a better picture Of how our students are performing. I know that we are changing directions And I ask that you be patient as we Navigate through this process and determine How best to collect, assess, and use the data We receive to make continuous improvements For the good of the students and to Incorporate institutional effectiveness Into our everyday language. Thank you for your willingness to assist In this process and determining the best Ways to help our students. Stay tuned as we Look at and develop some additional Templates or formats to report the data. Please share this information with your faculty.
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Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 7:03 PM UTC
To Incorporate Institutional Effectiveness into Our Everyday Language
**To Incorporate Institutional Effectiveness into Our Everyday Language** )/)/)/ is updating our assessment plan for Instructional units beginning this fall 2016 semester. After Visiting with /)/, our SACSCOC Consultant and Dr. /) yesterday About our assessment process, it was Determined that it is in our best interest To clarify, verify and hopefully Simplify the current random selection Assessment process. Therefore, in lieu of The use of the random selection process, The plan for this semester and moving forward Is to assess all students in all sections Of courses used in the assessment process And to report data on all students, NOT just assessing or reporting data On a random sample. In order to provide Appropriate artifacts, we will choose Representative samples (examples Of great, fair and low achievement artifacts) To be included in the artifacts Collection for SACSCOC reporting. However, We do still need to collect all artifacts So we have those in the event they are Needed. This will give us a better picture Of how our students are performing. I know that we are changing directions And I ask that you be patient as we Navigate through this process and determine How best to collect, assess, and use the data We receive to make continuous improvements For the good of the students and to Incorporate institutional effectiveness Into our everyday language. Thank you for your willingness to assist In this process and determining the best Ways to help our students. Stay tuned as we Look at and develop some additional Templates or formats to report the data. Please share this information with your faculty.
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42
I Didint mean to do it! What Have I done! Ive corrupted people with my creation I cant belive what ive done! Its just some cardbord A pipe cleaner and Half a paper towel roll! Its not what its made out of its something more! They all seem to be ****** into What ever this is With boxes and bags and streamers they did. Making them prettier and fancier with every chance they get They tape anything they can To trees to friend drama Just reporting it all! Just watching cause happen And making the call They surround all the bully's and watch them get beat No one steps in There too buzy reporting All they care is about the videos Not about what's happening Not about this evil that grows like fire And I created it I started it all The world is forever doomed This is the camera man Sighning off for good
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Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 7:18 AM UTC
Camera man