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"worsening" poems
Did you know that if you don't stretch in the correct way, you might end up thwarting the entire purpose of your workout and suffer unwanted injuries? Doing pre-workout stretches thoroughly will determine whether you are benefiting from your workout or whether it's worsening your muscle tear. Here are the major stretching crimes that you should never commit. Not doing a proper warm-up According to gym instructors worldwide, this is the most commonly committed crimes in any gym. A warm-up is a must before any kind of workout — cardio or weights — and must ideally last at least 12-15 minutes. Assuming that stretching is a warm-up Stretching and warming up is not the same. You need to warm up first, before you are ready to stretch. A slow jog or brisk walking on the treadmill is a good warm-up. Rushing through your stretching exercises Stretching should be for the entire body. You cannot skip any parts. Involve stretches that work your lower back, shoulders, calves, stomach, quads etc. You should not move from one stretch to the other in very quick succession because that may cause untoward injuries. Try to hold each stretch for 20 seconds. When you breathe deeply and hold the stretch, your muscles get trained to tolerate the maximum that your limbs can go to. Giving stretching a skip after a workout You have done an hour of strenuous exercise and now you just want to rush out of the gym; that is a huge mistake. Spend some time bending and stretching after your sweat session. Then, do a cool down before you leave the gym. Not stretching every day You need to be your flexible best always and that can only happen if you stretch daily, even on the days that you aren't gymming. This ensures that your gym days are more fruitful and that you make the most of them. Not breathing properly Breathing right is a very important aspect of stretching. Breathe naturally while you inhale through your nose, expand your rib cage and upper abdomen as you fill in your lungs. When exhaling, breathe out through your mouth, preferably making an audible sound. This relaxes you. While stretching, you need to breathe out when you are exerting, that is, when you are actually contracting your muscles. Doing static stretches Never stand still and do stretches that work only one muscle. You should rather do stretches that work a group of muscles — like a lunge that stretches your upper hamstring muscle, your ankles and also your glutes. Ignoring pain while stretching When you are in the middle of a stretch and you feel pain, stop immediately and consult an expert. Your stretch should make you feel a gentle pull only, not immense pain. If you are hurting, you are doing it wrong. Rest a few days and then go back to working out under a qualified trainer.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses
0
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 5:40 AM UTC
8 stretching mistakes you should never commit
Did you know that if you don't stretch in the correct way, you might end up thwarting the entire purpose of your workout and suffer unwanted injuries? Doing pre-workout stretches thoroughly will determine whether you are benefiting from your workout or whether it's worsening your muscle tear. Here are the major stretching crimes that you should never commit. Not doing a proper warm-up According to gym instructors worldwide, this is the most commonly committed crimes in any gym. A warm-up is a must before any kind of workout — cardio or weights — and must ideally last at least 12-15 minutes. Assuming that stretching is a warm-up Stretching and warming up is not the same. You need to warm up first, before you are ready to stretch. A slow jog or brisk walking on the treadmill is a good warm-up. Rushing through your stretching exercises Stretching should be for the entire body. You cannot skip any parts. Involve stretches that work your lower back, shoulders, calves, stomach, quads etc. You should not move from one stretch to the other in very quick succession because that may cause untoward injuries. Try to hold each stretch for 20 seconds. When you breathe deeply and hold the stretch, your muscles get trained to tolerate the maximum that your limbs can go to. Giving stretching a skip after a workout You have done an hour of strenuous exercise and now you just want to rush out of the gym; that is a huge mistake. Spend some time bending and stretching after your sweat session. Then, do a cool down before you leave the gym. Not stretching every day You need to be your flexible best always and that can only happen if you stretch daily, even on the days that you aren't gymming. This ensures that your gym days are more fruitful and that you make the most of them. Not breathing properly Breathing right is a very important aspect of stretching. Breathe naturally while you inhale through your nose, expand your rib cage and upper abdomen as you fill in your lungs. When exhaling, breathe out through your mouth, preferably making an audible sound. This relaxes you. While stretching, you need to breathe out when you are exerting, that is, when you are actually contracting your muscles. Doing static stretches Never stand still and do stretches that work only one muscle. You should rather do stretches that work a group of muscles — like a lunge that stretches your upper hamstring muscle, your ankles and also your glutes. Ignoring pain while stretching When you are in the middle of a stretch and you feel pain, stop immediately and consult an expert. Your stretch should make you feel a gentle pull only, not immense pain. If you are hurting, you are doing it wrong. Rest a few days and then go back to working out under a qualified trainer.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses
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18
So Yeah iFucked With Tweak Again. How Have iBeen Getting On One? Night Time. When Everyones Asleep, ***** Major. My Mind Was Just Beginning To Sort Out. iJust Stopped The Process. By Me Tweaking At Night ? iM ******* With My Head Again Still Paranoid Worsening iT.   iDidnt Enjoy iT , But **** Have iBeen Getting High(: iMissed iTs Feeling, iTs So Pure And Dreamy <3 No Wonder iLove iT, Began Reminiscing Deep About iT ^___^ Remembering Why iT iS iSay DopeLove <3$:.
0
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 3:04 PM UTC
late night High
The mirror looking back at her screams compliments over the loud music coming from the stereo behind. With artfully smudged eyeliner, she slips into the little black dress purchased from the cheap lingerie shop down the street from her apartment complex. Six inches above the concrete sidewalk clicking with every step, a lit cigarette dangling at her teeth, she walks proudly to the ball twenty minutes past midnight. The morning after; spiked hot coffee in hand to cure mistakes of the previous night and a knock on the door greets a worsening headache. The door opens to a well dressed man and a tiny glass slipper atop a diamond-studded throne. He holds the delicate shoe to her foot, toe nails painted black, and patiently waits for a response. “Those aren’t my red stilettos.”
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Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 1:27 PM UTC
Twisted Cinderella
I've walked into a tunnel. Following coats, Dragging behind in Abandon The light is slitted The shape above is Too Close to my head. The sharp, Undecided angles bother me And a nervous twitch begins. I imagine it like a funnel, Sorting population To pass through in Close quarters, Contact guaranteed. I sneeze And cough. My fever smolders Making my skin chill, And the thought of disease Enters, and crowds with me, Suffocating me to one side- But not too close- Don't touch anything. Fear grows. I am already sick But I could get sicker. Conspiracy drips over my thoughts, My fever leaving the normal functioning funnel In my mind To be burned away- materializing in the city- Around me. My thoughts bunch In clusters And pass all at once, Leaving waves of nausea And claustrophobia As I continue through the tunnel, Paranoia worsening my symptoms By the step.
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Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 7:11 PM UTC
Mind Funnel - Literal Tunnel
Sometime today... *I look up at the sky It is cloudy and dark Flickers of lightning And growling of thunder Threatening the day's work With uninvited wet showers Bad for business, these rains Keeping our customers indoors Filling our potholes to the brim Drenching our zeal to work I look, as the drops fall down In their multitudes Clattering against my window Bearing down on my roof Intent on washing away my hopes I miss the sunshine and its rays I miss the warmth of sunrise I miss the comfort of sunset And with all my heart I loathe the rain Yearning for the sun Soon a remembrance is awaken.* Somewhere in the past... *I looked up at the sky It was sunny and dry Debris of dusty winds And a hot tempered sun Worsening the day's labor With unfriendly heat waves Bad for farming, this heat! Keeping our seedlings underground Drying our boreholes to the bottom Smoking our will to work I sweated, as the rays blazed In their fury Burning through my window Melting down my roof Determined to roast my vision I missed the rain and its showers I missed the chills of the storms I missed the drizzles of dew And with all my might I despised the sun Praying for the rains As if that would quench my thirst!* Yet I wish it away as soon as it comes... © Raphael Uzor
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Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 2:58 PM UTC
Undecided!
“What can a poem do?” —————————- ***”A poem is a not a tourniquet when you’re bleeding. It’s not water when you’re thirsty or food when you’re hungry. A poem can’t protect you from an airstrike, or from abduction, or from hate. It’s hard to write when our words feel like they’re not enough—they can’t do the real, tangible work of saving lives, or making people safer.”*** (see (1) Maggie Smith) <~> as is my wont, I write, as is my Natted~inhabited, retiring to the local watering holes of Cerebrum & Cerebellum, them regular haunts, where all requests are mailed, processed, satisfied & marked; ‘return & render to the sender, who’s on a cerebral ****** and that request? ‘give me the words’ (2) those ‘to do’ words, floaters, direct to top of list, those ‘can do’ words, that can effect the affect, spare the despair, realize the fungible, concretize cures, soften hard waters, giving a worsening worn life fabric a curated baby blanket feel, a 4-ply human tissue of ‘words that tell me everything’ (2) salve solution verbs that bounty-wipe spills in entirety, vacuum up spillage spoiling of 17 days of terrible nouns, uncovered-unknown rages caused by inflicting prepositions released a hatred rising, safety rebury it deeper, drug & destruct the sleeper agents, and let me start over again with ‘telling me everything by saying nothing’ (2) the pausal silence, the quieted spaces tween the heartbeats, where ‘reflection,’ the noun, and its world of alternations, reflection, the noun, look inwards, but shining outward, this, this! is where the poem goes to do! enervating & arresting its contradictory powers rock you into wild docility, possessive and submissive, contradictory interferences, smoothing the roughness, closing the gaps it opens, healing the caused truthful cuts, with words that tell you everything and nothing, open the holes, filling the gaps, that is what a poem do, in and by the manner it is spoken… <~> “Sometimes a poem is the stone you carry in your pocket—the one you rub when you’re worried.  Let’s fill our pockets with poems.” (see (1) Maggie Smith)
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Oct 24, 2023
Oct 24, 2023 at 10:10 PM UTC
“What can a poem do?”
“What can a poem do?” —————————- ***”A poem is a not a tourniquet when you’re bleeding. It’s not water when you’re thirsty or food when you’re hungry. A poem can’t protect you from an airstrike, or from abduction, or from hate. It’s hard to write when our words feel like they’re not enough—they can’t do the real, tangible work of saving lives, or making people safer.”*** (see (1) Maggie Smith) <~> as is my wont, I write, as is my Natted~inhabited, retiring to the local watering holes of Cerebrum & Cerebellum, them regular haunts, where all requests are mailed, processed, satisfied & marked; ‘return & render to the sender, who’s on a cerebral ****** and that request? ‘give me the words’ (2) those ‘to do’ words, floaters, direct to top of list, those ‘can do’ words, that can effect the affect, spare the despair, realize the fungible, concretize cures, soften hard waters, giving a worsening worn life fabric a curated baby blanket feel, a 4-ply human tissue of ‘words that tell me everything’ (2) salve solution verbs that bounty-wipe spills in entirety, vacuum up spillage spoiling of 17 days of terrible nouns, uncovered-unknown rages caused by inflicting prepositions released a hatred rising, safety rebury it deeper, drug & destruct the sleeper agents, and let me start over again with ‘telling me everything by saying nothing’ (2) the pausal silence, the quieted spaces tween the heartbeats, where ‘reflection,’ the noun, and its world of alternations, reflection, the noun, look inwards, but shining outward, this, this! is where the poem goes to do! enervating & arresting its contradictory powers rock you into wild docility, possessive and submissive, contradictory interferences, smoothing the roughness, closing the gaps it opens, healing the caused truthful cuts, with words that tell you everything and nothing, open the holes, filling the gaps, that is what a poem do, in and by the manner it is spoken… <~> “Sometimes a poem is the stone you carry in your pocket—the one you rub when you’re worried.  Let’s fill our pockets with poems.” (see (1) Maggie Smith)
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65
Many doctors had failed to heal her; her wealth was gone; unable to cope, seemingly having no options left, she… faced the idea of being bereft of hope. A difficult issue of continual bleeding, had bothered this woman for twelve years; purposely maneuvering through the crowd, she hoped to meet Christ, and draw near. “If only, I could physically touch Him, my personal need can be forever met.” Summoning the last of her inner strength, she pressed onward without any regret. Her health was dramatically worsening and drastic action was now required; since Christ was visibly close by, perhaps healing she urgently desired would become available to her this day. Moving boldly with faith towards Him, silently reaching out for his garment with her weakened, slender limb… she briefly caressed the hem of His robe. And suddenly- her discomfort was gone! Without warning, virtue leapt out of Him; and now He wanted a face to gaze upon. To everyone’s astonishment, He stopped; then came the simple, unexpected question: “Who touched me?” He patiently inquired. Initially, there was apparent confusion, from not knowing who, He was addressing. Scared and embarrassed, she fell face down at His feet, ready to weep and apologize. “Rise up my daughter, from the dusty ground; tell me your life’s story of suffering; since your faith was successfully released, My strength has cured you of your agony; return home with my blessings and peace.” . . . Author Notes Loosely based on: Mark 5:24-34 Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
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Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
Poem: Let Me Touch His Garment
Many doctors had failed to heal her; her wealth was gone; unable to cope, seemingly having no options left, she… faced the idea of being bereft of hope. A difficult issue of continual bleeding, had bothered this woman for twelve years; purposely maneuvering through the crowd, she hoped to meet Christ, and draw near. “If only, I could physically touch Him, my personal need can be forever met.” Summoning the last of her inner strength, she pressed onward without any regret. Her health was dramatically worsening and drastic action was now required; since Christ was visibly close by, perhaps healing she urgently desired would become available to her this day. Moving boldly with faith towards Him, silently reaching out for his garment with her weakened, slender limb… she briefly caressed the hem of His robe. And suddenly- her discomfort was gone! Without warning, virtue leapt out of Him; and now He wanted a face to gaze upon. To everyone’s astonishment, He stopped; then came the simple, unexpected question: “Who touched me?” He patiently inquired. Initially, there was apparent confusion, from not knowing who, He was addressing. Scared and embarrassed, she fell face down at His feet, ready to weep and apologize. “Rise up my daughter, from the dusty ground; tell me your life’s story of suffering; since your faith was successfully released, My strength has cured you of your agony; return home with my blessings and peace.” . . . Author Notes Loosely based on: Mark 5:24-34 Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
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45
My breath was choking on fire It brought me to my knees as I plead Please, someone save me. Save me from this world That is consuming me in fire I'm burning up in flames. I've come to realize That I'm just the fuel to someone's fire. A minor casualty in this world Filled with the burning desire To lie, cheat, steal. ****** The room was blackened out with smoke I could no longer see the light. My coughing was worsening with each breath. This is really the end of my story. My mind was racing with different scenarios, All of them leading towards death. I know there is no hope, but I have to try to tell them. Each step feels like my last, My body was aching. My steps heaved as I dragged them across the blackened floor through the rubble. I made it to the desk my hand staggered as I wrote "This was no accident, It was a ******
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Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 11:29 AM UTC
Arson
Another visit to Med Psych; the withdrawals are horrendous. I’m emaciated and malnourished. With the exception of one meal every few days, I’ve dined on ***** and wine for my sustenance. I check out a lap top from the patient library, and try to get the poems organized on my flash drive. Concentration is elusive. The psych doctor decides to have me committed. She’s concerned about my worsening health and depression. I guess I can’t   blame her, but what bird likes a cage? I try to talk her out of it, but she’s resolute. The next day, just as the deputy is serving me the committal papers, I have a seizure—a bad one. My lips turn blue. I **** myself. The doctors pump me full of Ativan.  Everything is a   blur for the next week. Slowly, softly, my mind comes back. I get a room-mate; turns out he’s an artist, a fantastic abstract painter, his name’s Chris. Chris gets the activity director to bring him some paints and other art supplies. He goes to work; stabbing the paper with his brush— makes it bleed with color.  He’s a young   drunk; a madman and a   genius. I have my notebook and my sword. I pound out the word, the line, my highway through this silly society. Chris and I talked long into the autumn night, locked in a   cerebral prison. The room we were in was more like a Greenwich Village beat pad than it was a   hospital room.
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Mar 6, 2023
Mar 6, 2023 at 5:57 AM UTC
Med Psyche
surrendering to the angel you send in the night tarnishing night with stars you set, of mementos, gems sweetened into being by the heat of unknown fun in the warning sun in the worsening need to see the warm winds in your hair, see it myself my vigil, diadem is a pen decrees are on each page that summer endings and I lay down to - it's dreaming of the soul that holds my soul
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Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 5:20 PM UTC
My Vigil
It’s gripping, its hold on me growing tighter I can’t keep it out much longer, it’s flowing This fog is creeping through my mind One of a kind, it’s there to remind me To hurt me, heal me, shield me Pure insanity sends me reeling, am I healing? It rends me in two, leaves me checking on you I don’t know what to do with you, Two of a kind, birds of a feather A daughter and a mother, struggling to recover Struggling together, together will they stay? Though this hurts, my heart barely beats I’ll be there to dry your tears and kiss your cheeks As I feel the insanity setting in Don’t worry about me, it’s you that’s worsening.
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Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC
Two Of A Kind
A beautiful soul is my enemy, a fake smile is what I see... worsening everyday, everyway. Her eyes are always honest... always sad. "Trust me! Everything'll be fine " I can't say this to her. Because we're enemies.
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Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 1:27 AM UTC
Her
Maybe, this thing does not matter. It feels like a current, But maybe it’s just another stream with the promise of leading to the sea when it’s truly just heading for a lake. Maybe, I can watch the ducks paddle over the water and the twigs float on by. It could be that this is how you learn, that your gut doesn’t have eyes. But it could also be how you learn that there are some things no eyes can see. Whether it be for the worsening or for the bettering you are floating down this river an island in the water it’s viscosity carrying you, with your hands at the side of your hips where you’ll end up grace cannot be too far when you follow the flow who knows where you’ll end up maybe next to those ducks or in the vast open sea
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May 21, 2019
May 21, 2019 at 12:10 PM UTC
The Ducks Or The Vast Sea (Maybe there)
A hairline fracture is painful yet goes unnoticed We go on with one of these as we are overly focused The pain of this slice is felt by oneself but not noticed by peers Because it's not visible, but it may be as the breaking time nears My life today is identical to one of these fractures Full of pain that goes unnoticed by those around me This fracture is constantly worsening from negative factors But soon, all this pain will go away so I can finally break free
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Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 11:16 PM UTC
Hairline Fracture
I didn't ask to be born. Did I give you permission to have me? I'm just not cut out for this, really... I think about suicide constantly Everyday I question my sanity Am I okay? Stop starring at me! You're only worsening my anxiety They saw me crying. I don't want them to think that I'm attention-seeking Because I'm not: I just have a lot of ****** up thoughts. One day I'm calm and the next I feel forgot- Ten: they told me when I grew up I'd be that number Not someone who's chubby and refuses to go to slumber, part-ies They were just never for me But don't get me wrong I tried to participate Just no one ever really included me unless it was a one-on-one standing I get it, I'm a fill in. That's always been my role Someone who's just there For when others couldn't be. That's me. The girl I'll hit up tomorrow because my other friend is busy On a new note I'm about to be 18 My parents could kick me out or disown me Send me on my way As if they never had known me I'll eventually be on my own That's the point of this right? To witness someone's life and Then toss them aside but say That you'll be there until the end of time? Right? Wrong I always feel that way when I'm singing this song Titled: strife It makes me not want to go on But it remains Always in my veins It tells me to stay On the worst of days It triggers me hard I just want to go away Just let me already Why must I stay steady Can't you tell I'm not sturdy And just want to yell At everybody I'm in tears already As I pull the cord on this bag Helium fills my lungs I no longer feel sad I laugh continuously As I'm being poisoned I'm mad; crazy I forgot to write a note Don't hate me You all knew me in the past For a time being You had your chances with me There was no right or wrong I was just always singing a different song So don't feel bad for my no longer going on I was never meant to be here Please. Stay strong.
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Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 2:38 AM UTC
A Suicidal Mindset
I didn't ask to be born. Did I give you permission to have me? I'm just not cut out for this, really... I think about suicide constantly Everyday I question my sanity Am I okay? Stop starring at me! You're only worsening my anxiety They saw me crying. I don't want them to think that I'm attention-seeking Because I'm not: I just have a lot of ****** up thoughts. One day I'm calm and the next I feel forgot- Ten: they told me when I grew up I'd be that number Not someone who's chubby and refuses to go to slumber, part-ies They were just never for me But don't get me wrong I tried to participate Just no one ever really included me unless it was a one-on-one standing I get it, I'm a fill in. That's always been my role Someone who's just there For when others couldn't be. That's me. The girl I'll hit up tomorrow because my other friend is busy On a new note I'm about to be 18 My parents could kick me out or disown me Send me on my way As if they never had known me I'll eventually be on my own That's the point of this right? To witness someone's life and Then toss them aside but say That you'll be there until the end of time? Right? Wrong I always feel that way when I'm singing this song Titled: strife It makes me not want to go on But it remains Always in my veins It tells me to stay On the worst of days It triggers me hard I just want to go away Just let me already Why must I stay steady Can't you tell I'm not sturdy And just want to yell At everybody I'm in tears already As I pull the cord on this bag Helium fills my lungs I no longer feel sad I laugh continuously As I'm being poisoned I'm mad; crazy I forgot to write a note Don't hate me You all knew me in the past For a time being You had your chances with me There was no right or wrong I was just always singing a different song So don't feel bad for my no longer going on I was never meant to be here Please. Stay strong.
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67
Love for me is like cigarettes I need you, I really do Sadly, I call off all bets When I'm done and through Inhale you warm and deep Feed my addiction Tell you, You're mine to keep That you and I aren't fiction Halfway through is where I doubt How much is left of you Soon follows screams and shouts Our love turns blue I see the filter approaching And know out time is short the arguments are worsening with every cynical retort The end has bitterly come The taste I longed for Is now dull and dumb I'm a ******* you're a ***** Extinguish you Like I have many others Under my conflicted shoe Due to issues with our mothers Watch the ember die and wither Unfortunately it'll be 20 minutes Before I tell another to come hither Oblivious to my own limits Prepackaged and mass produced Complimenting my every inebriation For now at least, I deduce Truly you are deaths creation Set you ablaze knowing That our intoxicating romance Has not a single chance Of ever positively growing Love for me is like cigarettes I need you, I really do Sadly, I'll call off all bets When I'm content and through
0
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 2:55 AM UTC
Former Self
in the penguins luck the furnace begins at reprograming the news. Picture frames on 2 x 4s , three photographs and glass bottles in the most decadent of matrimonies. Three-hundred million dollars. And the race riots show 'em who'll take the dampit from the mound of Soot stained elements, canvas, trash bags, electric guitar riffs, giraffes, bingo, the drip-drop on the drop cloth. Easing into the new processor. She who settles the wages of crickets with ether and single-barrel vanilla buckshot and maple. Incisors and cynical stereotypecastes and the shadows of the other mugged and loose canonical charades the worser and worsening play their ad keywords at in the sketchmakers many movements her dactyls fine and her fingertips many. Sweet lines of breathing and setting.
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Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 3:24 PM UTC
Three-Hundred Million Dollars
I've lost another dear friend, Another kindred spirit, To the culling of this worsening ****** epidemic. No more new poems Waiting in my inbox. No more just checking in. No more redemption. Just another empty hole Pierced through our lives Taken by the tip Of a needle.
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Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 9:01 AM UTC
Heroine
Everything I say can never be unique Its all recycled and up-cycled from spit on the street. Next to the pavement, underneath the asphalt,: black, ****** bleak When I speak There is nothing new to say. Combined in a verse or tense past or present prosed in a way obscure to rational thought. Cursed. It's worse than worsening. Suessing, Sprucing up words that were left right on the curb. Busted, Rusted in god's stead, they trusted dollars and bills. Dollar bills encrusted with lies Idol-I- zation. Idol-me-nation. Idolatry gives life to puppets. It's really a Toy Story.
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May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 8:26 PM UTC
Ghost (7)
Denatured barbie dolls bowling over boys donning construction caps and destruction maps making a highway over natural habitats holding the handle of cellar doors open and shouting "dissent no more" please implore me to bore you and spit shine your mirror toe shoes I know you once we met on the avenue sector of humanity devoid of trees and afraid of honeybees traffic tinged memories haunting back down the street hampered under sweaters and smelly socks wondering how many feet beneath rocks something can escape half baked holy water holding the cure of all curses and worsening purple pillars of preconceived pastry dough growing moldy head to toe finding flow amidst garbage between sinking archipelagos
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Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 1:25 AM UTC
portrait: 24 october 1:26am EST
We dance in an enclosed white box, You led me to the center stage, then Held my hand and guided me in a waltz. You said something, but I could not catch it. Your eyes locked to mine but I see past it. All I felt amidst the all-too familiar floor And our fragile, reluctant punches, Was the pain on my feet, worsening As you whirled and I twirled.
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Mar 31, 2024
Mar 31, 2024 at 11:27 AM UTC
dance
oh, it could be such a lovely distraction. cavalier bandaging binding unclean wounds pain? your tragic torment, worsening beneath faux perfection. the sternest ivy inclines tangling, reaching for golden lifelines. a strange comfortable fog mist muffling echoes drowning pathways. you were always a fog, a deep hungry cloud i didn't realize
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Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 9:33 PM UTC
disorder
I wanted the perfect cake. With the perfect layers. With the perfect coating. But all I got was a stack of it. A stack of rejects. Desperately coated to its most presentable. At its most passable. It began with the first layer. After all, I was careful. Less mistakes. Less complications. Less lies. Braver, bolder, I crafted the second layer. More mistakes. More complications. More lies. Annoyed, I began the third layer. More and more mistakes. More and more complications. More and more lies. Desperate, Came the fourth layer. More and more and more mistakes. More and more and more complications. More and more and more lies. The more I go forth. The more frustrated I become. The more layers. The more lies. What comes after the layer of cake? Another layer. What comes after a lie? Another version of that same lie. In the end, All I'm left with is lost time. And the gradual worsening of my problem. Eventually, I'll find this cake collapsing. Reminding me that there are limits. To the amount of tries. To the amount of layers, That I can make. So, I find myself getting rid of the cake. In a dramatic scene I form in my head. You know me, I won't just get rid of the cake. I'd get rid of the whole occasion.
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Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 3:31 AM UTC
What Comes After A Lie?
In the mornings, I try To take a look at the sky While it’s still dark; While I can still see the stars. They may be far From where we are, But there’s just something Special, that bling Next to the occasional moon. I just hope light pollution’s worsening Isn’t coming too soon– The stars are what makes me smile Before I spend (too long) quite a while In school. At least I get to see Something that makes me Happy.
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Sep 4, 2024
Sep 4, 2024 at 6:12 AM UTC
Chin Up
'/( '|/\' ) '/( / '\' A gloomy feeling accompanies the rain. harvest season sometimes reaps none, the sun is weary, it rushes to descend humid air wanes as darkness spreads. sparrows and yellow warblers retreat how do they stay dry in their nests? newly-woken bats emerge at sunset amidst the rain...they try their best. in the waning light, trees start to play, their shadows graciously sway, they dance by the firewall telling their stories by nightfall. through a worsening weather sounds, loud and clear, the roaring thunder July's long sunset showers pour, to cool the dimming atmosphere. then, darkness claims all the glow. thunder, lightning, the heavy downpour, and the warm shelter of our home are like heaven and hell, situated side by side. monsoon season has come without delay the mischievous puppies dare play under July's cold pouring rain, their eyes invite me...but in vain. sally b ©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan    July 4, 2021
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Jul 26, 2021
Jul 26, 2021 at 8:25 PM UTC
July Reflections