"syndrome" poems - Hello Poetry

"syndrome" poems

Misconceptions Fasley smiles Psychoanalyzed Could it be my OCDish Would they agree or disagree Respectfully - with no referee Whatever matter - It doesn’t Let it be I’m carefree It’s the best defense Not a draftee A perfectionist I am It stems from many forces My moral sense At any expense Not remorses Their sweet jabs From the start Yes From day one Like Mr. Shukar - they see I'm the new prospect My disposition in scrutiny As I take in with fluency No unity Let it be I’ll take it in my dome Its my best cover Not styrofoam I'll take it whichever way it's thrown Please... Pass the twisted news along I continue staying strong Detail-oriented is my syndrome

0

Jan 29, 2016

Jan 29, 2016 at 2:55 PM UTC

workplace illusions

Misconceptions Fasley smiles Psychoanalyzed Could it be my OCDish Would they agree or disagree Respectfully - with no referee Whatever matter - It doesn’t Let it be I’m carefree It’s the best defense Not a draftee A perfectionist I am It stems from many forces My moral sense At any expense Not remorses Their sweet jabs From the start Yes From day one Like Mr. Shukar - they see I'm the new prospect My disposition in scrutiny As I take in with fluency No unity Let it be I’ll take it in my dome Its my best cover Not styrofoam I'll take it whichever way it's thrown Please... Pass the twisted news along I continue staying strong Detail-oriented is my syndrome

Continue reading...

Most days, you're not a woman developer, you're a developer. You work just as hard, You (try to) talk just as fast You keep your feelings under the surface (barely) Actually, scratch that You're always a woman developer. you're just so used to internalizing these habits Trying to have confidence in your skills despite the impostor syndrome pulling you down each time slowly, like quicksand Trying to make up for the confidence you never had compared to someone who always had it all Trying to not cry in the kitchen because god who is allowed to have feelings Trying not to talk about men who made you uncomfortable because oh my god for the fact that people call women overreacting most men seem to make every little statement about them, have you noticed? oh wow, isn't this just reverse sexism? oh wow, can I even talk to women? Being so vocal about being queer and Indian but if you make one noise one sound one phrase about your experience as a woman because in such welcoming company you subconsciously thought why not You let down your guard But There goes the shattered glass as the topic of gender-based discrimination is finally broached There goes the thing nobody ever talks about There starts the debate you did not want to participate in "Oh wow you're so harsh to these guys" "We were just slamming what they were doing, you slammed their actual personality wow" "I just said they sounded like a brogrammer" "sure if you say so" "Isn't that just an arbitrary description" How do you explain How do you describe every nuanced experience about Every male in your life who have been exactly like this to you How do you explain the light discrimination The harsh discrimination The systemic problem as a whole How can you condense all this into a workplace environment talk Where you don't usually talk about this? Where you don't know if you can actually talk about this Where you know that you ultimately don't want to talk about this cuz how can you explain these feelings that they can never understand You shut up and move on with coding. But inside, you're conflicted with ideas of presentations to express the fact, or never speak about this again Because in the end, You're just a developer, not a woman developer to them.

0

Jul 28, 2018

Jul 28, 2018 at 10:42 AM UTC

An Arbitrary Description (not really)

Most days, you're not a woman developer, you're a developer. You work just as hard, You (try to) talk just as fast You keep your feelings under the surface (barely) Actually, scratch that You're always a woman developer. you're just so used to internalizing these habits Trying to have confidence in your skills despite the impostor syndrome pulling you down each time slowly, like quicksand Trying to make up for the confidence you never had compared to someone who always had it all Trying to not cry in the kitchen because god who is allowed to have feelings Trying not to talk about men who made you uncomfortable because oh my god for the fact that people call women overreacting most men seem to make every little statement about them, have you noticed? oh wow, isn't this just reverse sexism? oh wow, can I even talk to women? Being so vocal about being queer and Indian but if you make one noise one sound one phrase about your experience as a woman because in such welcoming company you subconsciously thought why not You let down your guard But There goes the shattered glass as the topic of gender-based discrimination is finally broached There goes the thing nobody ever talks about There starts the debate you did not want to participate in "Oh wow you're so harsh to these guys" "We were just slamming what they were doing, you slammed their actual personality wow" "I just said they sounded like a brogrammer" "sure if you say so" "Isn't that just an arbitrary description" How do you explain How do you describe every nuanced experience about Every male in your life who have been exactly like this to you How do you explain the light discrimination The harsh discrimination The systemic problem as a whole How can you condense all this into a workplace environment talk Where you don't usually talk about this? Where you don't know if you can actually talk about this Where you know that you ultimately don't want to talk about this cuz how can you explain these feelings that they can never understand You shut up and move on with coding. But inside, you're conflicted with ideas of presentations to express the fact, or never speak about this again Because in the end, You're just a developer, not a woman developer to them.

Continue reading...

i have this bad case of emotional abuse honestly, all it does for me is serve to amuse because have you ever let something so stupid happen? all you can do is laugh at yourself for allowing it i am the one hurting myself - you you you you've given me a bad case of emotional abuse (and i let you)

0

Nov 30, 2016

Nov 30, 2016 at 2:57 AM UTC

stockholm syndrome.

i have this bad case of emotional abuse honestly, all it does for me is serve to amuse because have you ever let something so stupid happen? all you can do is laugh at yourself for allowing it i am the one hurting myself - you you you you've given me a bad case of emotional abuse (and i let you)

Continue reading...

Chest tube leaking blood from the side of my breast Alone and uncertain in a pale blue hospital dress He told me he loves me With a closed fist that felt like a loaded gun cracking two ribs that must have argued with my lung sign this waver We’re running out of time I wonder if he wouldof brought flowers to my grave. If I didn’t write my name on that line

0

Sep 8, 2021

Sep 8, 2021 at 2:00 AM UTC

Stockholm syndrome

Chest tube leaking blood from the side of my breast Alone and uncertain in a pale blue hospital dress He told me he loves me With a closed fist that felt like a loaded gun cracking two ribs that must have argued with my lung sign this waver We’re running out of time I wonder if he wouldof brought flowers to my grave. If I didn’t write my name on that line

Continue reading...

His Down's Syndrome makes His age a tough guess, I'll Say eight to ten. Wide eyes on machines, Ice cream dripping on the Pavement outside the Construction site. *I wanna work like this when I grow up,* he says in Young enthusiasm to a mother Whose eyes well up with Gratitude when I approach And kneel down in front of Him. *So you want a job, Buddy?* I ask him with a Wink. He suddenly remembers His ice cream and bites into It shyly. Nods, glancing at the Tools in my belt, the scratches On my arms, the brick wall I've been attacking with a Wacker jackhammer. Nods Again. *Well, I'll see you in a Few years,* I say with another Wink, this time to his mother, Who'd look her young age if Her eyes weren't as tired, *But you can start with this And get some practice.* I hand Him my Stanley Fat Max Hammer. His ice cream Hits the ground as he Recieves it with both hands, Looking to his mother for Confirmation that it's ok. Oh, it is. She mouths a Thank you SO much... They walk away, his chatter High pitched and fading Around the corner. And I Head over to the foreman to Report that I lost my hammer. Don't ever employ me. I can work a good game, but I'm too soft around little heroes.

0

Jul 24, 2014

Jul 24, 2014 at 5:53 AM UTC

Stanley Fat Max

His Down's Syndrome makes His age a tough guess, I'll Say eight to ten. Wide eyes on machines, Ice cream dripping on the Pavement outside the Construction site. *I wanna work like this when I grow up,* he says in Young enthusiasm to a mother Whose eyes well up with Gratitude when I approach And kneel down in front of Him. *So you want a job, Buddy?* I ask him with a Wink. He suddenly remembers His ice cream and bites into It shyly. Nods, glancing at the Tools in my belt, the scratches On my arms, the brick wall I've been attacking with a Wacker jackhammer. Nods Again. *Well, I'll see you in a Few years,* I say with another Wink, this time to his mother, Who'd look her young age if Her eyes weren't as tired, *But you can start with this And get some practice.* I hand Him my Stanley Fat Max Hammer. His ice cream Hits the ground as he Recieves it with both hands, Looking to his mother for Confirmation that it's ok. Oh, it is. She mouths a Thank you SO much... They walk away, his chatter High pitched and fading Around the corner. And I Head over to the foreman to Report that I lost my hammer. Don't ever employ me. I can work a good game, but I'm too soft around little heroes.

Continue reading...

Friends, there are many(I think, I hope). So, to be fair, I will respond with this. "Stricly an Opinion" October 20, 2014 8:40a.m. On August 28, 2013, strictly as a novice, and not having posted anything, anywhere, I posted my first two pieces of "literary art" on the HP site. I had previously searched other similar sites until finally deciding on posting with HP. I'm glad I did. Why? Not knowing what to expect, I threw "1894", and "Folklore and Fairy Tales" into the "mixing bowl". Pradip and Sally were the first to comment, and I will never forget the encouragement their words gave me. Never! Quite often, I go back and re-read them, particularly when I get a little discouraged when the "writers block" syndrome decides to attack. Thank you both, so very, very much! But that is the core of the HP Family. There is an aura, a special atmosphere of cohesiveness among its contributors, willing to offer(in most cases) constructive criticism without being cynical, and always encouraging each other. Making friends whom we may never see, whose hands we may never shake, but a friendship none the less, that is spread throughout the globe, with the thoughts that will always be there. It is a feeling I did not sense with other sites. One thing is for certain. We never know what our readers are going to like/dislike on any given day. When we post a piece, of what we may think is the work of "pure genius" could go by the wayside in seconds. On the other end of the spectrum, what we believe is not so great, could trend in minutes. We will keep trying. Richard Riddle copyright: October 20, 2014

0

Jan 12, 2016

Jan 12, 2016 at 12:19 PM UTC

My HP Friends - Response to Eliot York

Friends, there are many(I think, I hope). So, to be fair, I will respond with this. "Stricly an Opinion" October 20, 2014 8:40a.m. On August 28, 2013, strictly as a novice, and not having posted anything, anywhere, I posted my first two pieces of "literary art" on the HP site. I had previously searched other similar sites until finally deciding on posting with HP. I'm glad I did. Why? Not knowing what to expect, I threw "1894", and "Folklore and Fairy Tales" into the "mixing bowl". Pradip and Sally were the first to comment, and I will never forget the encouragement their words gave me. Never! Quite often, I go back and re-read them, particularly when I get a little discouraged when the "writers block" syndrome decides to attack. Thank you both, so very, very much! But that is the core of the HP Family. There is an aura, a special atmosphere of cohesiveness among its contributors, willing to offer(in most cases) constructive criticism without being cynical, and always encouraging each other. Making friends whom we may never see, whose hands we may never shake, but a friendship none the less, that is spread throughout the globe, with the thoughts that will always be there. It is a feeling I did not sense with other sites. One thing is for certain. We never know what our readers are going to like/dislike on any given day. When we post a piece, of what we may think is the work of "pure genius" could go by the wayside in seconds. On the other end of the spectrum, what we believe is not so great, could trend in minutes. We will keep trying. Richard Riddle copyright: October 20, 2014

Continue reading...

You have no idea What it's like, to be a woman Everyday is a baptism by fire As she walks on the street Hundred hands appear From nowhere, as if conjured By a deft flick Of a magician's wand A magician who sends chills Down the length of her spine Chills that surpass even those On a wintry night in Antarctica Leaving her frozen Till every bone stands still As she is stripped of her dignity Reduced to a shadow of her self She strains every sinew in her throat As she sends out a distress signal Which fails to be intercepted As the people look on Some with fear Some with sheer indifference Some with a perverse interest But none answer the call of duty The call which is as basic As the need for oxygen You have no idea What it's like, to be a woman As she heads home Seeking much needed solace She is instead upbraided For wearing a short skirt For walking alone in the night For not being a lady As she fails to get support From the family she holds dear As a shipwreck survivor Barely floating in freezing waters Clings on to that piece of wood Her self-esteem nosedives Like that fateful Air India flight That crashed at Mangalore And shifts the blame onto herself For not understanding the men Who've brought her to this state And succumbs to Stockholm Syndrome Completing a vicious circle Leaving men and the patriarchy winners Winners who deserve the title As much as a student Who clears his trimesters Using bits of paper Tucked neatly inside his shoes

0

Oct 30, 2017

Oct 30, 2017 at 1:20 AM UTC

Ashwinkumar1989

You have no idea What it's like, to be a woman

You have no idea What it's like, to be a woman Everyday is a baptism by fire As she walks on the street Hundred hands appear From nowhere, as if conjured By a deft flick Of a magician's wand A magician who sends chills Down the length of her spine Chills that surpass even those On a wintry night in Antarctica Leaving her frozen Till every bone stands still As she is stripped of her dignity Reduced to a shadow of her self She strains every sinew in her throat As she sends out a distress signal Which fails to be intercepted As the people look on Some with fear Some with sheer indifference Some with a perverse interest But none answer the call of duty The call which is as basic As the need for oxygen You have no idea What it's like, to be a woman As she heads home Seeking much needed solace She is instead upbraided For wearing a short skirt For walking alone in the night For not being a lady As she fails to get support From the family she holds dear As a shipwreck survivor Barely floating in freezing waters Clings on to that piece of wood Her self-esteem nosedives Like that fateful Air India flight That crashed at Mangalore And shifts the blame onto herself For not understanding the men Who've brought her to this state And succumbs to Stockholm Syndrome Completing a vicious circle Leaving men and the patriarchy winners Winners who deserve the title As much as a student Who clears his trimesters Using bits of paper Tucked neatly inside his shoes

Continue reading...

Sweaty face bright purple and greasy I used to hide my body between the pages But he told me to not read any more Itchy head heated enough to make tea My eyes are now how the trees say my name My eyes are now the leeches I put in empty tampons Sweaty neck I only want some traces of lips Sweaty palms I only want some other fingers Sweaty thighs I only want to walk well ************ sad wrapped in plastic Cranky child trapped in old wrinkling skin It may well be irrational excuses Womb nervous and not worthy Cerebral excuses, hormonal excuses Highly sensitive person excuses Delayed maturity excuses Premenstrual syndrome excuses Premature menopause excuses Abusive motherhood at 5 Traumatic childhood at 18 What happens in between stays in between

0

Feb 11, 2015

Feb 11, 2015 at 1:00 PM UTC

Old TV Projects

Sweaty face bright purple and greasy I used to hide my body between the pages But he told me to not read any more Itchy head heated enough to make tea My eyes are now how the trees say my name My eyes are now the leeches I put in empty tampons Sweaty neck I only want some traces of lips Sweaty palms I only want some other fingers Sweaty thighs I only want to walk well ************ sad wrapped in plastic Cranky child trapped in old wrinkling skin It may well be irrational excuses Womb nervous and not worthy Cerebral excuses, hormonal excuses Highly sensitive person excuses Delayed maturity excuses Premenstrual syndrome excuses Premature menopause excuses Abusive motherhood at 5 Traumatic childhood at 18 What happens in between stays in between

Continue reading...

What are you still doing here? I told you to go. I told you I can't come back home. But you're still here, In my bones. In every atom. When I said I was addicted, I meant I was enslaved. I meant to say I was yours, You took me captive unknowingly. And now I can't let it fade, The comfort of your embrace. It held me with you, It captured me willingly. And I belong to you, And I always will.

0

Mar 11, 2015

Mar 11, 2015 at 11:18 PM UTC

Stockholm Syndrome

What are you still doing here? I told you to go. I told you I can't come back home. But you're still here, In my bones. In every atom. When I said I was addicted, I meant I was enslaved. I meant to say I was yours, You took me captive unknowingly. And now I can't let it fade, The comfort of your embrace. It held me with you, It captured me willingly. And I belong to you, And I always will.

Continue reading...

Sa sarili noon ay aking nasambit, Sa pangarap ko, wala nang hihigit Sa buhay na ito, wala na ring nais makamit Kundi ang pangarap ko na sana'y masapit Ngunit nang narinig ko ang tinig **** kayganda, Ako sa iyo ay agad nahalina Sa puso ko'y nabuhay muli ang pag - asa , At mula nun' ninais kong ikaw ay makita Ang iyong kanta kung pakinggan ay anong sarap ! Mas maganda siguro kung aawit sa aking harap Sa malamig na tinig mo,lahat ay naaakit Sa mga larawan mo, mata ko'y tila nadikit Oh mahabaging langit! kailan kaya makikita Itong talentadong tao na iyong nilikha? Autograph nya kailan ko kaya makukuha? O masilayan man lang maganda nyang mukha? Pakiwari ko'y mahaba pa ang aking tatahakin, Sa pera ko'y marami pa ang dapat ipunin, Kaya't sa ngayon, ang akin nalang gagawin, Sundan sya sa facebook twitter at ig narin! At bago ko ito wakasan, Isang salita ang nais kong iwanan Di pa man kita nasisilayan, Mamahalin ka sa tahimik na paraan. Alam kong malabong ako ay mapansin, Dahil marami ang mga katulad ko rin, Ayos lang! Basta't lagi **** tatandaan May isang CRISSEL na handa kang suportahan. At kung loloobin man ng kapalaran, Itong tula'y iyong mapakinggan, Sana ikaw ay masiyahan, Magdulot sa iyo ng konting kaligayahan. Hindi ko alam kung may pagkakataon Na magkatotoo ang aking mga ilusyon, Pero tandaan mo sadyang mahal kita Sa puso't isip ko tunay na nag - iisa !

0

Mar 10, 2017

Mar 10, 2017 at 12:52 AM UTC

Kaye Cal Syndrome

Sa sarili noon ay aking nasambit, Sa pangarap ko, wala nang hihigit Sa buhay na ito, wala na ring nais makamit Kundi ang pangarap ko na sana'y masapit Ngunit nang narinig ko ang tinig **** kayganda, Ako sa iyo ay agad nahalina Sa puso ko'y nabuhay muli ang pag - asa , At mula nun' ninais kong ikaw ay makita Ang iyong kanta kung pakinggan ay anong sarap ! Mas maganda siguro kung aawit sa aking harap Sa malamig na tinig mo,lahat ay naaakit Sa mga larawan mo, mata ko'y tila nadikit Oh mahabaging langit! kailan kaya makikita Itong talentadong tao na iyong nilikha? Autograph nya kailan ko kaya makukuha? O masilayan man lang maganda nyang mukha? Pakiwari ko'y mahaba pa ang aking tatahakin, Sa pera ko'y marami pa ang dapat ipunin, Kaya't sa ngayon, ang akin nalang gagawin, Sundan sya sa facebook twitter at ig narin! At bago ko ito wakasan, Isang salita ang nais kong iwanan Di pa man kita nasisilayan, Mamahalin ka sa tahimik na paraan. Alam kong malabong ako ay mapansin, Dahil marami ang mga katulad ko rin, Ayos lang! Basta't lagi **** tatandaan May isang CRISSEL na handa kang suportahan. At kung loloobin man ng kapalaran, Itong tula'y iyong mapakinggan, Sana ikaw ay masiyahan, Magdulot sa iyo ng konting kaligayahan. Hindi ko alam kung may pagkakataon Na magkatotoo ang aking mga ilusyon, Pero tandaan mo sadyang mahal kita Sa puso't isip ko tunay na nag - iisa !

Continue reading...

*Yeah, I'm at a point where I'm handicaped by fear When stimulant sadness clogs my eyes but can't shed a tear A point when I'm afraid of both the future and my past Feeling tethered to bad karma,feeling cursed Stuck in this minute with the clock ice paused On the fringes of life where all doors are closed And heated so that not even opportunity can dare knock Seated in the quiet of the noisy silence watching the clock Frozen to a single moment yet seasons are ticking And there're signals that rest of the world's moving on I'm picking I'm living like a ghost that died a million years ago One whose owner ailed of an incurable syndrome pride A disease born of a blood ******* vector called ego One from which the wondering soul's holder died I'm at a point when I ask myself why I was born When It's clear I have to work my fingers to the bone But not even myself can get me to my feet to start the journey I'm at crossroads, and I know I have to choose Because I've got rest of my life at stake, everything to lose At now, and thing about now is knowing the actual value of having money I'm at a point when a have to make the big calls, hold or move on Keep being a cry baby or put the badass pants on Looking back to the age when I was afraid of Gekkos And it's how I feel calling out and feedback's my own echoes I'm at a point where I don't need spectacles to see my mistakes Yet it still feels like I'm not ready and haven't what it takes*

0

Sep 24, 2015

Sep 24, 2015 at 10:22 AM UTC

ignatius-hosiana

*Yeah, I'm at a point where I'm handicaped by fear When stimulant sadness clogs my eyes but can't shed a tear A point when I'm afraid of both the future and my past Feeling tethered to bad karma,feeling cursed Stuck in this minute with the clock ice paused On the fringes of life where all doors are closed And heated so that not even opportunity can dare knock Seated in the quiet of the noisy silence watching the clock Frozen to a single moment yet seasons are ticking And there're signals that rest of the world's moving on I'm picking I'm living like a ghost that died a million years ago One whose owner ailed of an incurable syndrome pride A disease born of a blood ******* vector called ego One from which the wondering soul's holder died I'm at a point when I ask myself why I was born When It's clear I have to work my fingers to the bone But not even myself can get me to my feet to start the journey I'm at crossroads, and I know I have to choose Because I've got rest of my life at stake, everything to lose At now, and thing about now is knowing the actual value of having money I'm at a point when a have to make the big calls, hold or move on Keep being a cry baby or put the badass pants on Looking back to the age when I was afraid of Gekkos And it's how I feel calling out and feedback's my own echoes I'm at a point where I don't need spectacles to see my mistakes Yet it still feels like I'm not ready and haven't what it takes*

Continue reading...

What is being intelligent? Is intelligent being a person who’s a prestige's individual that mastered every curricular course And can solve every question with no hesitation Or A person with Down syndrome, Autism, Mental Retardation, etc… That has a unique characteristic that makes them who they are and do things other people can’t?

0

Feb 8, 2013

Feb 8, 2013 at 3:47 PM UTC

What is being intelligent?

What is being intelligent? Is intelligent being a person who’s a prestige's individual that mastered every curricular course And can solve every question with no hesitation Or A person with Down syndrome, Autism, Mental Retardation, etc… That has a unique characteristic that makes them who they are and do things other people can’t?

Continue reading...

Spiders. Snakes. Late nights, due to the fact that once I saw a possum in our garage when it was dark out. Good looking people not thinking I'm good looking. Holding children. I might drop them. My brothers growing up to be just like me. Shark attacks. Jumping off high places. Headphones that go too deep into my ears. Going the opposite direction of so many cars. I'm the only one going my way. They're probably headed the right way. They're probably having more fun. Realizing that, after being on the road for a while, my high beams have been on the whole time. Sorry. Cockroaches. Family reunions where I'm not sure if that really attractive girl is my family or someone's friend. Climbing up the stairs of the Bombay ride at Wet N' Wild because there just slabs of stone I can see under. I could slip and fall right through. Enjoying bad bands. Letting my girlfriend look into my eyes. Talking on the phone. Growing up. Refusing to grow up. Reading this over if I ever finish it and realizing that I am something less than a regular human being. Probably an animal of some kind. Frogs. Big animals. Waking up one day as the same person I always have been. Standing still. My parents. Not spending the rest of my life with the girl I swore I would. Texting people too often. My parents dying. Whales. My teeth being this awful the rest of my life. Braces. Making people think they offended me. People never offend me. Writing anything that's ever as good as Ernest Hemingway. How dare I think that I ever could. Running too hard. My heart might burst. Being unreasonable. Am I unreasonable? Sticking my finger inside an air conditioning vent in a car. I don't know if there's a fan in there. I don't know if it'll take my finger off. Getting people's hopes up. Letting people down. Fish. Bees. Being a teacher. My laugh. Wearing bad clothes. Holding her hand too hard. I might cut off circulation. She might get mad. My brother disapproving of what I do. Heaven because it sounds awful doing the same thing for the rest of forever. Finding out I've been gay this whole time. Cracking my fingers. Being a parent. Whales. Final exams. Paranormal Activity 4. Singing on cue. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Eating insects. Whales. Silence. The open ocean. Whales. Whales.

0

Apr 25, 2018

Apr 25, 2018 at 12:45 PM UTC

A List of Things I'm Afraid of

Spiders. Snakes. Late nights, due to the fact that once I saw a possum in our garage when it was dark out. Good looking people not thinking I'm good looking. Holding children. I might drop them. My brothers growing up to be just like me. Shark attacks. Jumping off high places. Headphones that go too deep into my ears. Going the opposite direction of so many cars. I'm the only one going my way. They're probably headed the right way. They're probably having more fun. Realizing that, after being on the road for a while, my high beams have been on the whole time. Sorry. Cockroaches. Family reunions where I'm not sure if that really attractive girl is my family or someone's friend. Climbing up the stairs of the Bombay ride at Wet N' Wild because there just slabs of stone I can see under. I could slip and fall right through. Enjoying bad bands. Letting my girlfriend look into my eyes. Talking on the phone. Growing up. Refusing to grow up. Reading this over if I ever finish it and realizing that I am something less than a regular human being. Probably an animal of some kind. Frogs. Big animals. Waking up one day as the same person I always have been. Standing still. My parents. Not spending the rest of my life with the girl I swore I would. Texting people too often. My parents dying. Whales. My teeth being this awful the rest of my life. Braces. Making people think they offended me. People never offend me. Writing anything that's ever as good as Ernest Hemingway. How dare I think that I ever could. Running too hard. My heart might burst. Being unreasonable. Am I unreasonable? Sticking my finger inside an air conditioning vent in a car. I don't know if there's a fan in there. I don't know if it'll take my finger off. Getting people's hopes up. Letting people down. Fish. Bees. Being a teacher. My laugh. Wearing bad clothes. Holding her hand too hard. I might cut off circulation. She might get mad. My brother disapproving of what I do. Heaven because it sounds awful doing the same thing for the rest of forever. Finding out I've been gay this whole time. Cracking my fingers. Being a parent. Whales. Final exams. Paranormal Activity 4. Singing on cue. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Eating insects. Whales. Silence. The open ocean. Whales. Whales.

Continue reading...

Blame it on the weak For they are kind of heart and blinded by reason- It makes for such easy prey But such a close and tender evening- Nights lost in tepid confusion Although always leading to a false conclusion- But then again there are them... They are the thieves of dreams Not In search of Rubies nor gems but something that cannot buy you such friends- A human heart to call their own A head to scrape along the wall All to play their selfish selfish games To have you for their very own So Why do we love them ? the ones who make us feel so lonely and scared Such Neglect Is something we shouldn't dare to bare- If the world is full of such wonderful people Why do we fall for those Liars and Cheats? Such vicious jokes But they got you... And I watched you as you prooved yourself wrong Dragging yourself through storms to be somewhere you must truly belong Something you call good- Well you have a bad case of mirror syndrome, it's true You fell to the depths of someone- surely not you

0

Feb 9, 2015

Feb 9, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC

Blame it on the weak For they are kind of heart and blinded by reason- It makes for such easy prey But such a close and tender evening- Nights lost in tepid confusion Although always leading to a false conclusion- But then again there are them... They are the thieves of dreams Not In search of Rubies nor gems but something that cannot buy you such friends- A human heart to call their own A head to scrape along the wall All to play their selfish selfish games To have you for their very own So Why do we love them ? the ones who make us feel so lonely and scared Such Neglect Is something we shouldn't dare to bare- If the world is full of such wonderful people Why do we fall for those Liars and Cheats? Such vicious jokes But they got you... And I watched you as you prooved yourself wrong Dragging yourself through storms to be somewhere you must truly belong Something you call good- Well you have a bad case of mirror syndrome, it's true You fell to the depths of someone- surely not you

Continue reading...

He means very little to me- on a regular, uninterrupted day. But when he talks to me, he is maliciously welcoming. He's toxically enduring and determinedly warm. It's possible Stockholm Syndrome, it's definite injustice. Sweet, sweet injustice. Sweet interruptions. My sweet bitterness to his sweet nonchalance. And then; sweet realisation that I may not be alright, but merely distracted.

0

Feb 28, 2015

Feb 28, 2015 at 4:31 AM UTC

He means very little to me- on a regular, uninterrupted day. But when he talks to me, he is maliciously welcoming. He's toxically enduring and determinedly warm. It's possible Stockholm Syndrome, it's definite injustice. Sweet, sweet injustice. Sweet interruptions. My sweet bitterness to his sweet nonchalance. And then; sweet realisation that I may not be alright, but merely distracted.

Continue reading...

Uhh..Young Ston,.. The ****** Disciple. ..OFTR..Yeah this is Only For The Real dawg..Yeah only for (my real ones,Yeah2)..Yeah..(Ohh3)..Let's do it...Lets go..roll up..yeah roll mo..(Ohh*3)..Yeah let's go.. Uhh..(I just do what I do Yeah2)..I do what I do man..(I just do what I do nigga2)..keeping it gangster & trill man..(Yeah I do what I do man2)..Yeah..(I do what I do..Yeah2)..I just do what I do..Yeah..I do what I do nigga..I just do what I do..Oooo,..(Yeah2)..keeping it gangster & keeping it trill.. Ohh,..(I just do what I do Yeah2)..I just do what I do man,..Yeah I do what I do nigga,..(Yeah I do what I do man2)..I just do what I do nigga..keeping it gangster & keeping it trill..yeah, yeah..keeping it gangster & trill man..that's what I do Yeah,..(thats what I do man,..Yeah2)..keeping it gangster & trill man, Yeah... I do what I do man, I just do what I do man, I just do what I do..(Yeah, keeping it gangsta & keeping it trill*2)..,thats what I do..Yeah I do what I do..Yeah..I just do what I do Yeah.. Yeah I'm staying gangsta , Yeah I'm staying trill nigga..Please excuse me, Yeah I might slip up & say ignorant **** sometimes homie,.. Lord please forgive me..Uhh, I'm changing up hip hop mane, Noo it will never be the same, Yeah its under my control now lames, Aye these ***** *** rappers under mind control, by Satan, they programed to deceive us, they so full of mischeif,yeah they rapping lies to ya just to be famous, so don't follow what seems cool, because they are the white mans trap.. Yeah it's just an illusion dude to fool you, just be yo self dawg, look up to Jesus.. Uhh..(I just do what I do Yeah2)..I do what I do man..(I just do what I do nigga2)..keeping it gangster & trill man..(Yeah I do what I do man2)..Yeah..(I do what I do..Yeah2)..I just do what I do..Yeah..I do what I do nigga..I just do what I do..Oooo,..(Yeah2)..keeping it gangster & keeping it trill.. Ohh,..(I just do what I do Yeah2)..I just do what I do man,..Yeah I do what I do nigga,..(Yeah I do what I do man2)..I just do what I do nigga..keeping it gangster & keeping it trill..yeah, yeah..keeping it gangster & trill man..that's what I do Yeah,..(thats what I do man,..Yeah2)..keeping it gangster & trill man, Yeah... I do what I do man, I just do what I do man, I just do what I do..(Yeah, keeping it gangsta & keeping it trill*2)..,thats what I do..Yeah..I do what I do..Yeah..I just do what I do Yeah.. My dude, just do you, keep it gangster & keep it trill always dawg..Ooo,..I'm wit my family heading to the top of the food chain homie..Yeah we so hungry eating up anybody that try to interfere wit the gang game plan mane..OFTR..We all real gangsters, we move in silence, but still be making alot of noise, like Jeeper Creepers..Uhh We don't die man, we just get bigger & stronger & multiply ***** we all one, we are own army & government..we fully armored.. Yeah OFTR, we keep it so trill, Yeah we keep it so gangster man..,Yeah we underrated but still is the best Yess.., I just want peace yeah man, but don't ever try to take advantage of me..Aye ***** ****** keep thinking **** sweet wit me then yo *** will get busted like a soft ***** in jail man & I mean what I say no facades about me, **** policts homie..Uhh 1..2..3 more versers that I got in me to spit, but Imma keep this song short,..Yeah..This is more than just about nothing, what up to Wale & The whole DMV my nig.. & Shoutout to Shy Glizzy yo man, we gotta collaborate one day, but if you don't wanna, then its cool homie, Yeah it is what it is,..Imma still keep it g wit ya.. Noo, I won't steal yo chain, Imma just keep moving along & just mind my business mane..Ayoo.. I got 1,2,3 pre rolls stuffed that I ain't even had to touch,yo woman came over & did it for me dawg.. Because Imma Thug,Yeah..& she prepared bowls for me too, because Im gangster..Uhh.. I just do what I do keeping it gangster & keep it trill, like a real ***** should..Lets go..Ohh Yeah.. Uhh..(I just do what I do Yeah2)..I do what I do man..(I just do what I do nigga2)..keeping it gangster & trill man..(Yeah I do what I do man2)..Yeah..(I do what I do..Yeah2)..I just do what I do..Yeah..I do what I do nigga..I just do what I do..Oooo,..(Yeah2)..keeping it gangster & keeping it trill.. Ohh,..(I just do what I do Yeah2)..I just do what I do man,..Yeah I do what I do nigga,..(Yeah I do what I do man2)..I just do what I do nigga..keeping it gangster & keeping it trill..yeah, yeah..keeping it gangster & trill man..that's what I do Yeah,..(thats what I do man,..Yeah2)..keeping it gangster & trill man, Yeah... I do what I do man, I just do what I do man, I just do what I do..(Yeah, keeping it gangsta & keeping it trill*2)..thats what I do..Yeah..I do what I do..Yeah..I just do what I do Yeah.. (I do what I do, Yeah*3).., & nobody else can do what I does, Noo, never they ho's, they weak,they soft, even if I send them a verse they could never be Young Ston,..Noo, they can never be down in my gang, Noo they can't smoke or drink wit me, not even yo broad, because she's had you..yo she's infected wit a ***** ***** syndrome.. So noo I don't want the ** for real dawg, Yeah that's for sure..Uhh.. I'm (keeping it trill nigga2) & I'm (keeping it gangster2).. Yeah like I should,Yeah that's for show,..Yeah I'm (keeping it trill nigga2) & I'm (keeping it gangster2)..like that's all I know..that's real, & that's for sure...Oh.. I just do what I do, Yeah I do what I do..I just do what I do,..(I do what I do*2)..I just do what I do.. OFTR (Yeah nigga*3)..Yeah..Young Ston

0

Dec 30, 2015

Dec 30, 2015 at 3:42 AM UTC

Ston Poet - Gangster Tunes

Uhh..Young Ston,.. The ****** Disciple. ..OFTR..Yeah this is Only For The Real dawg..Yeah only for (my real ones,Yeah2)..Yeah..(Ohh3)..Let's do it...Lets go..roll up..yeah roll mo..(Ohh*3)..Yeah let's go.. Uhh..(I just do what I do Yeah2)..I do what I do man..(I just do what I do nigga2)..keeping it gangster & trill man..(Yeah I do what I do man2)..Yeah..(I do what I do..Yeah2)..I just do what I do..Yeah..I do what I do nigga..I just do what I do..Oooo,..(Yeah2)..keeping it gangster & keeping it trill.. Ohh,..(I just do what I do Yeah2)..I just do what I do man,..Yeah I do what I do nigga,..(Yeah I do what I do man2)..I just do what I do nigga..keeping it gangster & keeping it trill..yeah, yeah..keeping it gangster & trill man..that's what I do Yeah,..(thats what I do man,..Yeah2)..keeping it gangster & trill man, Yeah... I do what I do man, I just do what I do man, I just do what I do..(Yeah, keeping it gangsta & keeping it trill*2)..,thats what I do..Yeah I do what I do..Yeah..I just do what I do Yeah.. Yeah I'm staying gangsta , Yeah I'm staying trill nigga..Please excuse me, Yeah I might slip up & say ignorant **** sometimes homie,.. Lord please forgive me..Uhh, I'm changing up hip hop mane, Noo it will never be the same, Yeah its under my control now lames, Aye these ***** *** rappers under mind control, by Satan, they programed to deceive us, they so full of mischeif,yeah they rapping lies to ya just to be famous, so don't follow what seems cool, because they are the white mans trap.. Yeah it's just an illusion dude to fool you, just be yo self dawg, look up to Jesus.. Uhh..(I just do what I do Yeah2)..I do what I do man..(I just do what I do nigga2)..keeping it gangster & trill man..(Yeah I do what I do man2)..Yeah..(I do what I do..Yeah2)..I just do what I do..Yeah..I do what I do nigga..I just do what I do..Oooo,..(Yeah2)..keeping it gangster & keeping it trill.. Ohh,..(I just do what I do Yeah2)..I just do what I do man,..Yeah I do what I do nigga,..(Yeah I do what I do man2)..I just do what I do nigga..keeping it gangster & keeping it trill..yeah, yeah..keeping it gangster & trill man..that's what I do Yeah,..(thats what I do man,..Yeah2)..keeping it gangster & trill man, Yeah... I do what I do man, I just do what I do man, I just do what I do..(Yeah, keeping it gangsta & keeping it trill*2)..,thats what I do..Yeah..I do what I do..Yeah..I just do what I do Yeah.. My dude, just do you, keep it gangster & keep it trill always dawg..Ooo,..I'm wit my family heading to the top of the food chain homie..Yeah we so hungry eating up anybody that try to interfere wit the gang game plan mane..OFTR..We all real gangsters, we move in silence, but still be making alot of noise, like Jeeper Creepers..Uhh We don't die man, we just get bigger & stronger & multiply ***** we all one, we are own army & government..we fully armored.. Yeah OFTR, we keep it so trill, Yeah we keep it so gangster man..,Yeah we underrated but still is the best Yess.., I just want peace yeah man, but don't ever try to take advantage of me..Aye ***** ****** keep thinking **** sweet wit me then yo *** will get busted like a soft ***** in jail man & I mean what I say no facades about me, **** policts homie..Uhh 1..2..3 more versers that I got in me to spit, but Imma keep this song short,..Yeah..This is more than just about nothing, what up to Wale & The whole DMV my nig.. & Shoutout to Shy Glizzy yo man, we gotta collaborate one day, but if you don't wanna, then its cool homie, Yeah it is what it is,..Imma still keep it g wit ya.. Noo, I won't steal yo chain, Imma just keep moving along & just mind my business mane..Ayoo.. I got 1,2,3 pre rolls stuffed that I ain't even had to touch,yo woman came over & did it for me dawg.. Because Imma Thug,Yeah..& she prepared bowls for me too, because Im gangster..Uhh.. I just do what I do keeping it gangster & keep it trill, like a real ***** should..Lets go..Ohh Yeah.. Uhh..(I just do what I do Yeah2)..I do what I do man..(I just do what I do nigga2)..keeping it gangster & trill man..(Yeah I do what I do man2)..Yeah..(I do what I do..Yeah2)..I just do what I do..Yeah..I do what I do nigga..I just do what I do..Oooo,..(Yeah2)..keeping it gangster & keeping it trill.. Ohh,..(I just do what I do Yeah2)..I just do what I do man,..Yeah I do what I do nigga,..(Yeah I do what I do man2)..I just do what I do nigga..keeping it gangster & keeping it trill..yeah, yeah..keeping it gangster & trill man..that's what I do Yeah,..(thats what I do man,..Yeah2)..keeping it gangster & trill man, Yeah... I do what I do man, I just do what I do man, I just do what I do..(Yeah, keeping it gangsta & keeping it trill*2)..thats what I do..Yeah..I do what I do..Yeah..I just do what I do Yeah.. (I do what I do, Yeah*3).., & nobody else can do what I does, Noo, never they ho's, they weak,they soft, even if I send them a verse they could never be Young Ston,..Noo, they can never be down in my gang, Noo they can't smoke or drink wit me, not even yo broad, because she's had you..yo she's infected wit a ***** ***** syndrome.. So noo I don't want the ** for real dawg, Yeah that's for sure..Uhh.. I'm (keeping it trill nigga2) & I'm (keeping it gangster2).. Yeah like I should,Yeah that's for show,..Yeah I'm (keeping it trill nigga2) & I'm (keeping it gangster2)..like that's all I know..that's real, & that's for sure...Oh.. I just do what I do, Yeah I do what I do..I just do what I do,..(I do what I do*2)..I just do what I do.. OFTR (Yeah nigga*3)..Yeah..Young Ston

Continue reading...

a pentagon study determined that putin is an anti-social control freak kind of vermin (really? this required a genius kind of keenness? really?) darpa should stick to cool things like the internet and invisibility cloaks and drones armed with pork parts a rodina rodent in the grain needs spankin' with more than just sanctions cuz knocking out their incisors doesn't make them any nicer - a rat with no teeth is still a rat.

0

Feb 9, 2015

Feb 9, 2015 at 9:15 AM UTC

a pentagon study determined that putin is an anti-social control freak kind of vermin (really? this required a genius kind of keenness? really?) darpa should stick to cool things like the internet and invisibility cloaks and drones armed with pork parts a rodina rodent in the grain needs spankin' with more than just sanctions cuz knocking out their incisors doesn't make them any nicer - a rat with no teeth is still a rat.

Continue reading...

For no reason he starts screaming Then begins to hit you Shouting for no given purpose He will begin to bite himself It is then as nothing happened He plays with an electronic game Something then will disrupt him So begins punching himself in the head He will not wait his turn Even when others are already speaking So starts to bite himself once more Shouting out threatening behaviour You can never try to tell him off It will only make him worse He believes he is only allowed to shout He will never understand what you say The throwing of things will then commence Showing you outrage and anger Comes up and shouts in your face Followed by slapping and hitting you Then it will all suddenly stop Begins talking nicely to you Talking non-stop about his cars He will then put them all in a line Come and ask for a cuddle Not even remember what just happened For an hour or two he talks politely You dare not try to change the subject Never try to break his routine For he will start swearing at you Everything will start all over again Because he will never understand change He even hates his baby sister Because he needs all the attention He has no understanding of sharing Or how to ever show fair play He is locked away in his own world Expects everyone to know what he is thinking He can not even dress himself But he has a perfect photographic memory Others will never come to realise They will only think the worst of him They call him names behind his back All because he is a little different Autistic children may be a challenge But remember, they are still children All they need is understanding So, will you love him? copyright Chris Smith 2012 For children with Autism/Asperger's Syndrome

0

Sep 13, 2012

Sep 13, 2012 at 2:28 PM UTC

409: Will You Love Him

For no reason he starts screaming Then begins to hit you Shouting for no given purpose He will begin to bite himself It is then as nothing happened He plays with an electronic game Something then will disrupt him So begins punching himself in the head He will not wait his turn Even when others are already speaking So starts to bite himself once more Shouting out threatening behaviour You can never try to tell him off It will only make him worse He believes he is only allowed to shout He will never understand what you say The throwing of things will then commence Showing you outrage and anger Comes up and shouts in your face Followed by slapping and hitting you Then it will all suddenly stop Begins talking nicely to you Talking non-stop about his cars He will then put them all in a line Come and ask for a cuddle Not even remember what just happened For an hour or two he talks politely You dare not try to change the subject Never try to break his routine For he will start swearing at you Everything will start all over again Because he will never understand change He even hates his baby sister Because he needs all the attention He has no understanding of sharing Or how to ever show fair play He is locked away in his own world Expects everyone to know what he is thinking He can not even dress himself But he has a perfect photographic memory Others will never come to realise They will only think the worst of him They call him names behind his back All because he is a little different Autistic children may be a challenge But remember, they are still children All they need is understanding So, will you love him? copyright Chris Smith 2012 For children with Autism/Asperger's Syndrome

Continue reading...

and all these years they told you that heartbreak would be not being able to do anything; crying most of the days; not being ok for a long time; being able to hear the sound of your heart breaking; 'the heart break syndrome', they would say. 'time heals', everyone promised. 'this too shall pass', everyone whispered. 'it will strengthen you', they encouraged. what they did not tell you was that heartbreak would make you do the unthinkable. crying on your bathroom floor during shower. muffling your crying on your pillow. trying to explore yourself. meditate, read books, watch movies, writing. waking up with puffy eyes. and have to go on like nothing happened. lock yourself in your own room at night when you get home. laying awake staring at the ceiling. counting on what you did wrong. replaying every scenes. endless pool of tears - those kind that make you really tired; not the sleepy kind of tired, but the 'God-please-end-this' kind of tired. praying to God to please just end this for you cannot take more pain. asking God on what you had done wrong in life to deserve this kind of pain. do i even still believe in God? they did not tell you that heartbreak change your perspective in life. that it would feel like you are suffocating; unable to breath. where is the air? even when you sleep, you wake up and dreaming about him again. the desperation to end it; that you would google 'how to deal with heartbreak' or the desperation to ask people for help. but you know it's useless and you don't want to be a burden. or when you hear others telling you about their relationship and you can not even give them any advices anymore. 'i used to be so good at giving advices', you think to yourself. but now not anymore. they did not tell you that heartbreak would make you numb when you are surrounded by people. the way you get yourself throughout the day and do the daily routines laughing, do random things, being weird; 'you are still the same old you even after all these things', they would say. 'no i'm not', you tell yourself. even when your heart is broken or the way you would act like you had never got your heart broken or the way others would tell you their problems and you have to act like you are okay and you have none they did not tell you that heartbreak would make you feel this useless like how you suddenly think of 'i am so broken' and yet you could not even think of telling anyone because of how pointless it would be 'what's the use? they don't get it like i do', you would think. they did not tell you that heartbreak would take this long to heal 'time heals', i used to say 'this too shall pass', i used to tell my friend. but now i am not so sure anymore. time heals, they say. well, i'm still waiting for the time mine would heal

0

Oct 27, 2016

Oct 27, 2016 at 1:48 PM UTC

things they did not tell you about heartbreak

and all these years they told you that heartbreak would be not being able to do anything; crying most of the days; not being ok for a long time; being able to hear the sound of your heart breaking; 'the heart break syndrome', they would say. 'time heals', everyone promised. 'this too shall pass', everyone whispered. 'it will strengthen you', they encouraged. what they did not tell you was that heartbreak would make you do the unthinkable. crying on your bathroom floor during shower. muffling your crying on your pillow. trying to explore yourself. meditate, read books, watch movies, writing. waking up with puffy eyes. and have to go on like nothing happened. lock yourself in your own room at night when you get home. laying awake staring at the ceiling. counting on what you did wrong. replaying every scenes. endless pool of tears - those kind that make you really tired; not the sleepy kind of tired, but the 'God-please-end-this' kind of tired. praying to God to please just end this for you cannot take more pain. asking God on what you had done wrong in life to deserve this kind of pain. do i even still believe in God? they did not tell you that heartbreak change your perspective in life. that it would feel like you are suffocating; unable to breath. where is the air? even when you sleep, you wake up and dreaming about him again. the desperation to end it; that you would google 'how to deal with heartbreak' or the desperation to ask people for help. but you know it's useless and you don't want to be a burden. or when you hear others telling you about their relationship and you can not even give them any advices anymore. 'i used to be so good at giving advices', you think to yourself. but now not anymore. they did not tell you that heartbreak would make you numb when you are surrounded by people. the way you get yourself throughout the day and do the daily routines laughing, do random things, being weird; 'you are still the same old you even after all these things', they would say. 'no i'm not', you tell yourself. even when your heart is broken or the way you would act like you had never got your heart broken or the way others would tell you their problems and you have to act like you are okay and you have none they did not tell you that heartbreak would make you feel this useless like how you suddenly think of 'i am so broken' and yet you could not even think of telling anyone because of how pointless it would be 'what's the use? they don't get it like i do', you would think. they did not tell you that heartbreak would take this long to heal 'time heals', i used to say 'this too shall pass', i used to tell my friend. but now i am not so sure anymore. time heals, they say. well, i'm still waiting for the time mine would heal

Continue reading...

*Goa Goa Goa a whisper on my lips Goa Goa Goa way she moves her hips Here at this drab desk On a drab drowned day Goa Goa Goa sings the wind in my hair*

0

Feb 10, 2017

Feb 10, 2017 at 7:37 AM UTC

Post Goa Syndrome

*Goa Goa Goa a whisper on my lips Goa Goa Goa way she moves her hips Here at this drab desk On a drab drowned day Goa Goa Goa sings the wind in my hair*

Continue reading...

~ *alone and an imposter, deep in syndrome. she absorbs the frost of seasonal ghosts and hopeless feelings of death and darkness. she only shows one side of her every time. she calls a random number from a bar in the middle of the night, seeking to confess or find solace in the voice of a stranger. but any stranger might just happen to be a lie detector. still she lays bare all the duplicity and fragmentation of self: prescription bottles with two different names, elaborate façades in Los Angeles and in New York, so complicated she creates something she calls the lie box. inside her purse there's a collection of file cards. "I tell so many lies," she says. "I have to write them down and keep them in a box so I can keep them straight." alone she waits for either sweet apricity or identikit: each a memento of her faces.* ~

0

Feb 26, 2023

Feb 26, 2023 at 3:57 PM UTC

Winter of Artifice

~ *alone and an imposter, deep in syndrome. she absorbs the frost of seasonal ghosts and hopeless feelings of death and darkness. she only shows one side of her every time. she calls a random number from a bar in the middle of the night, seeking to confess or find solace in the voice of a stranger. but any stranger might just happen to be a lie detector. still she lays bare all the duplicity and fragmentation of self: prescription bottles with two different names, elaborate façades in Los Angeles and in New York, so complicated she creates something she calls the lie box. inside her purse there's a collection of file cards. "I tell so many lies," she says. "I have to write them down and keep them in a box so I can keep them straight." alone she waits for either sweet apricity or identikit: each a memento of her faces.* ~

Continue reading...

C is for carpal. Sounds a bit like the word carpet. T is for tunnel. Those things that danger is usually in. S is for syndrome. Can also be used to describe a lot of things.

0

May 26, 2015

May 26, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC

C is for carpal. Sounds a bit like the word carpet. T is for tunnel. Those things that danger is usually in. S is for syndrome. Can also be used to describe a lot of things.

Continue reading...

July 4, 2015 Grandson Tony and Grandpa went to Mickey D's for breakfast. Grandpa was ready to vacate the premises when Tony barred the door. "Just a little while longer Grandpa." So Grandpa sat back down. Soon a cake and five of the Mickey D people appeared and sang happy birthday. Tony was apparently being a little secretive and alerted the establishment when we clocked in. Grandpa cut four pieces of cake. Two to take home for Lucy and Grandma. Two for Tony and Grandpa. Tony then ask if he could give his piece of cake to someone. "Sure you can." grandpa replied. There were two tables with grandparent types and parents sitting 10 feet away. Tony picked up his piece a cake and a fork and squeezed in between the two tables and placed the cake in front of the young fella who eagerly began eating it. Grandpa then noted the boy had Downs Syndrome. The people at the table were pleasantly surprised at what had just happened. A grandmother came over where Grandpa was sitting and express that it was a very thoughtful thing Tony did. The whole thing rather blew Grandpa away. But that's the way Tony is. Full of surprises.

0

Mar 3, 2017

Mar 3, 2017 at 12:27 PM UTC

A Piece of Cake

July 4, 2015 Grandson Tony and Grandpa went to Mickey D's for breakfast. Grandpa was ready to vacate the premises when Tony barred the door. "Just a little while longer Grandpa." So Grandpa sat back down. Soon a cake and five of the Mickey D people appeared and sang happy birthday. Tony was apparently being a little secretive and alerted the establishment when we clocked in. Grandpa cut four pieces of cake. Two to take home for Lucy and Grandma. Two for Tony and Grandpa. Tony then ask if he could give his piece of cake to someone. "Sure you can." grandpa replied. There were two tables with grandparent types and parents sitting 10 feet away. Tony picked up his piece a cake and a fork and squeezed in between the two tables and placed the cake in front of the young fella who eagerly began eating it. Grandpa then noted the boy had Downs Syndrome. The people at the table were pleasantly surprised at what had just happened. A grandmother came over where Grandpa was sitting and express that it was a very thoughtful thing Tony did. The whole thing rather blew Grandpa away. But that's the way Tony is. Full of surprises.

Continue reading...

I don't want to walk in to a room full of strangers have you even thought of the dangers? Well I have at 3 am each night they sure do bring me great delight I don't want to walk in oh my god give me some gin They won't like me I'm just a wannabe Imposter syndrome I just wanna go home I don't want to walk in They're looking at the white's of my eyes I don't mean to dramatise but I might die I don't want to talk in and I can feel my chest I'm so ******* stressed I'm walking in Is this auto-pilot because this is your captain speaking and get ready for a crash and ****** burn I've reached the point of no return Walk in you big ******* baby whats the worst that could happen? I talk too fast with too much passion? so what if they don't like me I already sound like banshee At least try to be care-free I can't make any guarantees but step by step in to the room it won't be all doom and gloom Just walk in and see you might even make a friend in the end who didn't want to walk in to too

0

Sep 15, 2017

Sep 15, 2017 at 2:25 PM UTC

I don't want to walk in

I don't want to walk in to a room full of strangers have you even thought of the dangers? Well I have at 3 am each night they sure do bring me great delight I don't want to walk in oh my god give me some gin They won't like me I'm just a wannabe Imposter syndrome I just wanna go home I don't want to walk in They're looking at the white's of my eyes I don't mean to dramatise but I might die I don't want to talk in and I can feel my chest I'm so ******* stressed I'm walking in Is this auto-pilot because this is your captain speaking and get ready for a crash and ****** burn I've reached the point of no return Walk in you big ******* baby whats the worst that could happen? I talk too fast with too much passion? so what if they don't like me I already sound like banshee At least try to be care-free I can't make any guarantees but step by step in to the room it won't be all doom and gloom Just walk in and see you might even make a friend in the end who didn't want to walk in to too

Continue reading...

Wednesdays and Fridays: The only days I jump out of bed Filled with happiness. Passion. Patience. Excitement. I walk into the classroom, Trade my sadness for a dose of jubilance. I feel alive again. A dozen 3 year olds swarm the room, the melting *** Labels such as: typical, Downs syndrome, autistic, deaf Come together to morph into a magical classroom. “The Tree House Room”. Differences are not feared in the eyes of these little humans, They are embraced. Accepted. Loved. These are the days I live for.

0

Dec 16, 2014

Dec 16, 2014 at 1:32 AM UTC

The Tree House Room

Wednesdays and Fridays: The only days I jump out of bed Filled with happiness. Passion. Patience. Excitement. I walk into the classroom, Trade my sadness for a dose of jubilance. I feel alive again. A dozen 3 year olds swarm the room, the melting *** Labels such as: typical, Downs syndrome, autistic, deaf Come together to morph into a magical classroom. “The Tree House Room”. Differences are not feared in the eyes of these little humans, They are embraced. Accepted. Loved. These are the days I live for.

Continue reading...