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Narrative Health Poems | Narrative Poems About Health

These Narrative Health poems are examples of Narrative poems about Health. These are the best examples of Narrative Health poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Narrative | |

If You Have A Sleep Disorder

If you have a sleep disorder, I strongly advise that you have it checked Apparently, if it is serious enough, it can even lead to death Was diagnosed with very serious "sleep apnea" a while ago The treatment, is extremely difficult to get used to Ever try sleeping with two plastic thingies stuck up your nose I guess I'll get used to it eventually People that have been using a machine like this for years Swear by it and tell me the results will be fantastic... like night and day But I must be patient and persevere. It will take a little while to get used to Really? Are you saying eventually I won't notice these thingies up my nose? Maybe if I drug myself till I think I'm a fairy princess Or a famous Shakespearean actor in tights I'm willing to give it a shot! Oops! Sorry, lost my train of thought there The thought of me prancing around as a fairy princess Has always kind of appealed to me... oops! I mean, as a Prince Charming Now back to my sleep apnea, wish me luck It's supposed to make me more rested, sweet and happy SO GET OUT OF MY FACE TILL THEN YOU GUYS! We must be patient, this is not going to happen overnight! © Jack Ellison 2014

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The Drying Of The Ink

No longer at desk the typewriter has been given 
it's final rest.
As he cant recall the day or year.

The once strong mind is closed the body
but a museum or tribute to what once was.
he his home but locked within himself.

Vist's from thoose who once knew the man 
are like people viewing a body at a wake.
he calls from within the shell for for release.

Yet his lips will not move his voice never sounds.
Inside he burns for the chance to run as the river
chases the sea.

To be the man they never knew and the one he 
could admire and both despise.

The page sits in typewriter like a willing 
eager lover in bed. 
Waitting in stockings that cling to delicate thigh.
the tears escapes it's minds prison.

He thirsts for it like a drunk for that morning drink
of whiskey waitting hands held togather trying
to keep from shaking.

He sits as a painter without hand.
watching the most beautiful sunset fade without 
a chance of ever capturing this moment.

The ink is drying he feels it everyday.
Soon he hopes like the dust that does gather
he will be swept away.

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Alone in a Hospital Room - An Alzheimer's Song

Don’t you remember, love, how we danced that first night;
beneath the sun’s rays, toes dipping in the cooling sand, 
to the tune of our favorite song –
with me humming the best I could – 
(I sounded terrible, but you told me I sounded divine, remember?)
while falling all over myself, and your delicate feet; 
and you, trying so hard not to laugh as I made such a fool of myself!
Did you ever think we would go 
from being love-sick teenagers dancing on the beach, 
to a couple of old-timers reminiscing 
about our best years – our long ago days together? 

Sweetheart, please…
If there is any part of that teenage girl 
left within that beautiful head of yours…please; 
please, just look in my eyes as you once did…
look at me, sweetheart…
Don’t you remember? 

My love, do you hear? 
They’re playing our favorite song…

*Inspired by Izzy Gumbo's Solfege Contest
I really hope I did this right! :)

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The Tale of the Dirty Dick

Girls, if you ever find a man of great persistence
Listen to your ******, and say NO! with adequate resistance
You see chicks, when a dude gets a hard dick
If it's dirty, it can make you super sick
Painful pisses and cloudy urine will follow suit
All because Dirty Dick Man wanted to discharge his root
So, ladies, beware...there are diseases out there
No Dick gets serviced until it's clean and faire
Run, scream, shout, "Spank your ****ing monkey!"
Please, I beg of you, do as I now  propose
Keep your ****** sparkling clean-never let it decompose.

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Making Lemonade

When you're walking Scuffling along in trouble's shoes Head hanging low Mumbling moody blues Well me, I'm making lemonade Why can't you Taking bitter adding something sweet Maybe a smidge, no a heap full of hope Heck, by days end I'll mix it up Movin' straight to, getting crazy in root beer floats When all you see is red Awful thoughts pound your head "Honey do this, honey do that" I'm sitting back Feet up, sipping lemonade again You look my way and say "Boy, he's got it made" Not so my friend I just taking my lemons And making me some lemonade instead There's so much "other time" To have your little gripes Or your petty cries But, now let's toast away the grind And partake in some lemonade on ice You've come this far "And guess what? You've got your health" Check your pulse you're still alive So change your ways Brother, embrace the lemons Squeeze fresh into winner ala mode And "live baby, baby live! in lemonade days "Ahhh ... such sweetness"

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The Willows

Tomorrow’s times are in these eyes of mine.
Away and far my world shall part.
The Seas shall rise from their depths of deep.
And in the glow of the shadows the willows will weep.
The Sun will rise as my days still come,
The glory, the power, it is the rains with Sun.
Tomorrow’s times are in these days of mine.
Far and gone my world shall bond.
The Mountains will fall from their heights they climb.
And in the glow of the shadows the willows will shine.
Tomorrow’s times are in these thoughts of mine.
Gone and here my world shall fear.
The Lands will separate the world by Sea,
And in the glow of the shadows the willows will be.
Tomorrow’s times I know are mine.
Here it is that I fear I’m near.
My Land, my Seas, my Mountains of plain sight,
And in the glow of the shadows the willows shall shed their light.

®Registered: Ann Rich 1998

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Me, Myself, and I - (Part 1)

Hello Friends... I suffer from Severe Bi-Polar Disorder and this submission was inspired by 
actual events that occured during one of my especially critical manic episodes. Be sure and 
read Part 2 to complete the poem and leave your comments on the Part 2 submission. Thank 
you for allowing me to share my pain for pain shared is pain diminished 

Me, Myself, and I...

“There are things that concern us,”
		Consensed my “Selves” in earnest
““We” fear that “I” have succumbed to delusion”

“And after careful deliberation
		It is with much hesitation
That we choose to delineate upon this confusion”

“Fact is your intuition
		Is riddled with superstition
And your judgment leaves much to be desired”

“So you leave us no recourse
		Don’t push us to use force”
It is then that the “I” was summarily fired

I exclaimed “By whose authority?” Response, “Rule of majority”
“The “Myself” and the “Me,” (forthwith the “We”), are experts in our field”

“And with much technique and time
		And some forays into the sublime
The nature of your malady will be revealed”

“So to keep yourself from having a fit
		Step back and just calm down a bit”
“We,” they said, “certainly have this under control”

“We swear this won’t hurt at all”
		Then I felt my inhibitions fall
Still I said a prayer to God that He keep my soul

You know, fact is I do feel off axis
		As evidenced by such parapraxis
As this prose that I, (or is it “Us”), seek to pen

And with my mind feeling numb
		I finally chose to succumb
And allow the “Me” and the “Myself” to begin

And then came questions in a flurry
		Answer, answer and please do hurry
Not one moment of respite did they give

They pushed and they prodded
		With every “T” crossed and “I” dotted
My mind felt like it had gone through a sieve

And all this psycho-analysis
		Is causing my mind paralysis
The questions, can you stop with the questions please

“Yes, oh yes indeed
		I do believe we have what we need
To make an attempt to identify your unknown neuroses”

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Me, Myself, and I - (Part 2)

Hello Friends... I suffer from Severe Bi-Polar Disorder and this submission was inspired by 
actual events that occured during one of my especially critical manic episodes. Be sure and 
read Part 1 first so as to get the true gist of the poem and leave your comments here on the 
Part 2 submission. Thank you for allowing me to share my pain for pain shared is pain 

Me, Myself, and I... (continued)

“Your, (Or “Our”), symptoms seem to intermit
		And the fact that “You’re,” (“We’re”), a hypocrite
Tis no wonder we’re having such problems with diagnosis”

Then “I” had an idea so grand
		To dispense with this at my own hand
A self-inflicted coup de grace would be my prognosis

So while the “Me” and the “Myself” squabbled
		With courage newly cobbled
“I” spotted the dresser drawer and made my run

With fingers fiercely fumbling
		Whilst they continued grumbling
“I” produced from the depths of the drawer a shiny gun

And now my life, though ill-fated
		Was soon to be vindicated
This would affect us all equally the same

Would be no myself or me
		No you, him, us, or we
But an inclusive all would be to blame

It took me a moment to figure
		Out the safety on the trigger
Then “I,” (or “Us”), prepared to do the dirty deed

Then the barrel found my temple
		And as it settled into the dimple
A still small voice did my “selves” choose to heed

Hence a moment of clarity 
		Harkened me to posterity
And I thought what a legacy to leave behind

“Can’t we all find a way
		To save this miserable day
And avoid a broken body for someone to find”

And then deep within my soul
		I felt and heard a simple drum roll
And the differing sides of me just subsided

And with my mind now as one
		I worked to get this all undone
The whole business of this stuff I derided

And tis now true of fact
		That I survived this ordeal intact
And lived to raise my face unto the sky
And here now as it ends
		I find I’ve made good friends
With the “Me”, the “Myself,” and the “I”

Thank you for taking the time to share in my poetry. Please feel free to leave your thoughts 
or comments here on this page. 

J. Scott Burns...

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Losing Someone to Cancer

I did speak with them, seemed very confused.

Apparently from what I have been told,
the cancer has gotten worse, and has 
began invading the rest of the body…

The hospice nurse doesn’t,
think they will be with us much longer…

They don’t know where they are living, can't 
remember me seeing them recently, can't 
remember me talking with them yesterday...

I know that this is very depressing news,
and if it weren't for friends and family,
I would be going crazy…

For it is hard to lose a loved one,
whether it be family or friend…

Since we don't know, when that fateful day
will happen, we can only take it one day at a time,
I only hope and pray that they won't suffer, I would
 rather see them be in a coma, and not have 
the pain and suffering…

I know that sounds harsh, however,
I don't want them to suffer, I want them
 to go in there sleep….

By Sandra L. Hoban

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Life's Little Secrets

Jack is my name, laughter is my game If I can make just one person giggle It's mission accomplished for me It's my goal in life in my retirement years I'm happy so why not let some of it rub off Everyone gets to where I am eventually Unless war or some unfortunate mishap Interrupts their journey along the way Personally, I've been extremely fortunate Never really suffered from any serious health issues Might say I'm possibly putting a jinx on myself If you believe in that sort of stuff... which I don't I put it down to good genes... A healthy lifestyle and exercise Once you adjust, the routine becomes a lot easier Until you actually look forward to the daily routine As you greet each brand new day I WISH YOU MUCH LUCK!!! © Jack Ellison 2014

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Rummy's Mantra

“its ok“….he justifies it….”I have been hurt”
so he tosses back one more….seeking incoherence
that serves as his sanity….and his brand new bravery

it becomes his friend, as he swigs this rotgut…
takes control without a sound….(sneaky devil)
solemnly he stood on a blank street crying
into a wind that was too frigid to care
wounds too raw and rampant to console him
(in all his empty stark patterns and narcissism)

funny when you destroy pure love given freely
what is left is just a blind burst of bleeding
guilt and terror consumed his thoughts 
until he couldn’t face the eyes staring back
another chug and apocryphal bliss found
once again at the empty end of a lush’s swill

why not….when whiskey is warm…burns a bit
but calms the nerves and his are torn in shreds
(hasn’t got much too lose now does he)

“its ok“….he justifies it….”I have been hurt”
so he tosses back one more……seeking incoherence
that serves as his sanity….and his brand new bravery

he faces the world backwards in a prison bars jar
and sadly enough its lonely with steel walls 
(of your own making) as you bury your face
in a broken sand and the shoreline moistens
from your drunken weeping and wail of wine

poor man….who are you….does anyone know you?
stagger a little and sunken gray sockets bulge
Stooped shoulders and demeanor of a lost soul
sorrow fills my heart for you….as you waste a life
(thrown out like useless rubbish)
trashed by your own bruised hands and hollow cheeks

“its ok” he tells himself “I’ve been hurt”
so he tosses back one more…..seeking incoherence 
that serves as his sanity….and his brand new bravery

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Not posting for a while

Due to health of Dad, I will not be posting new poems for a while.
Things are going downhill fast....
I will still read other poets when time permits.

Quality time spent with him is more important at this time. 
I do appreciate all of you for your support
on my scribbles and for the warm welcome 
that has been given me.

If you pray, I will ask for prayers for all involved.

Thank you ahead of time.

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Hearing the Words

Although my voice rose in volume
his ears rejected the sounds,
unable to distinguish the words.

Speaking to his back,
I felt like a mime without a mirror.
My heart grieved at the loss,
no longer able to reach the one 
I had laughed with, and loved, 
all of my adult life.

But his eyes spoke eloquently,
his smile erased my anger,
and his kiss warmed me to my toes.

New hearing aids brought his world
into sharper focus and now the words
bounce off walls like cymbals on a drum.

"Three thousand dollars," he grumps.
"and I prefer the silence."



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Mom's Malaise, part two

A couple of years later, at age 19, this farm girl married and, true to her Catholic
upbringing, began having children. She had four live births and four miscarriages over the course of less than seven years, long before the idea of “post-partum” depression was even a gleam of understanding in anyone’s mind.  After the birth of her fourth child, a girl who would grow up to study environmental sciences and eventually draw the correlation between that first atomic explosion and her mother’s first episode of mental, emotional and physical distress, that infant had to be taken by her aunt and uncle to care for lest she perish from failure to thrive because by this time, mom was so deeply depressed, she was unable to care for her newborn.  

In those days there was no such thing as mental health care, no understanding at all of how to nourish the brain or detox the body from the effects of poisons and radiation…for indeed these advances are only recently gaining traction and still only in the realm of “alternative health care”.  With no understanding of her condition, or of what would even constitute appropriate care, her state of mind and body continued to deteriorate. After more than one suicidal episode and losing her children to foster care while she entered a treatment and rehabilitation facility, she was eventually diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenic and manic-depressive, giving her husband sufficient justification to divorce her and blame her parents for not telling him that she was mentally deficient before he married her. Even the Catholic Church agreed and granted an annulment of the marriage that produced his four live children and four miscarriages while he served in the Air Force and left her to care for his children while he was away for years at a time overseas on unaccompanied assignments. But nevertheless, the marriage was officially annulled so that he could marry again sanctioned by the Church and his Catholic bride could continue to take unholy communion in mass.

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The poor child groaned
while his mother moaned
''Ah, he's possessed, 
oh, he's been 
Superstition bemoaned.

To the witchdoctor she 
and was back with 
murky potions
such yucky stinky lotions
those mythical 

The woman obeyed the 
wily witchdoctor
Placed belief in that 
traditional healer
and the poor child still 
but his mama no longer 
After two days of 
and no lessening of 
she thought he needed
something more potent
When all it turned out to 
was a toothache dent! 

But she would hear of 
no dentist
Like all quacks her 
had fooled her five 
For his spells and his 
held her too in a trance
Quite a weird weirdo is 
Beware the medicine-
Beware that vodoo 
magic and witchcraft
That survive on the 
gullible and daft.

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Home Remedy

Banished to the front porch
brother, sister and I lay, 
dispirited, on quilt pallets,

with knees drawn up 
to meet our chins,

spewing forth to the ground
the meager contents
of our aching stomachs.

Mom called it "Summer Complaint."
She took her third arm,
the garden hoe, into the woods.

The roots, scrubbed and boiled,
imparted a brew so bitter

we choked and sputtered
but drank, at her command,
with faces skewed, lips puckered.

Not the worst of Mother’s
home remedies brewed
in her country kitchen,
but close. 

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I stumble upon a river
the way it flows and feels
I take my shoes off and run threw it
laughing looking up towards the sun
I wake up and it was all just a dream
my sister runs up the stairs
she slams her door
i asked her what was wrong
she looked at me 
She says "mom told me you were adopted"
at first i laughed as i thought it was a joke
I run downstairs to see my mom and dad sitting on the couch
"mom?" i say
she replies "its true we adopted you!" 
she got up and walked into the kitchen
"after all this time i thought i was yours" i say
My father gets up and walks out the door
My mom lays her hand on her forhead
Just dont worry about it  everything will be okay
"No it wont i say"
i felt fake like i wasnt who i was suppose to be
i just sat on my bed thinking about the whole thing
my whole life and who i should have been
I packed my bags that light and i ran away
leaving the less important things behind
i set out on a journey to find my real parents
I had my sister get there info. from my dads office
I took a bus to indiana and looked up there address
As soon as i found it i knocked on the door
A man opened the door
he said "who are you?"
i say "apparently i am your son?!"
"you put me up for adoption?" i repeat

He yells "ANNA!?, Some kid is here for you!"
i repeat the story to her as she denied it
She looked bruised and beaten up
I wanted to help her but the man hut the door on my face

I had no where to go now
So i started on a journey back home
But i never made it there 
I found that old river i use to go too
i stayed there for a few weeks until
i remembered the way back.
I found myself that day
I realized that i was fake but now im not because i know that i am just me not any of them

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He walks around town
over size t-shirts
baggy jeans half way his butt
each day wearing a mysterious smile
today with this
tomorrow that
as easy as his wink
so they come and go

She thinks she is the It gal
Beauty and brains i am
Self acclaimed beauty pageant
She thinks the many she bed
illustrates the hotness of her brand
She forgot it is the cheap stuff
that sell-off fast.

Typical stories perhaps

But there is that of a graceful woman
loyal to her husband
a good wife
a great mother
a sister
a friend.
But her husband has no honour
He thinks being the alpha
one with all the pennies
his hood has a right 
to more than one honie
So someday
she is pregnant again
on testing
her D T C runs positive...

Then there is the brother
with a brother from another mother.
God forbid
they had an ugly accident
open wounds all over
blood spill on the other
and boom!

Or the midwife granny
she aids the young bride in the village
no one told her these things
she has no clue what surgical gloves are
So her hands goes in
the cut from last night
absorb the +ve blood
from the bride...

They are not just narrations
they are events that occur everyday
Somewhere as we speak
someone is testing positive
their fault?
But there is such a huge number
who will never trace
how the contacted the virus

In the two decades i have lived
always said i never had a reason
to take the test.
Until last evening
Nothing unusual 
just an urge
to know my status

So i took the kit
men am telling you
its doesn't matter if you are a virgin
a Shaman
or you "Holier than Thou" 
that test is scary!
Wait till the blood start to flow
you realize just how fragile life is
Another red line on that stick
and your life is changed for good
it is not the end of a life
its a start of a different
Something does change!

It got me thinking
how much we take for granted
The much we do not appreciate.

my test did turn -Ve
Glory to God!
But am telling you
last evening i made a resolution
a vow that as sure as well will uphold

I realized life is an egg
One right yes
to the wrong person
or one wrong yes
to the wrong person
and sometimes
a right yes
to the right person
and it cracks!

Life is precious
and i intend to keep mine that way.
I will never take
unnecessary risks with my health.
My body is your temple
and i intend to keep it holy
So help me God

I don't know about you
but i do have a word for you
take care
do the test
whatever the result
keep on living Negative

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The Poop of Life

THE POOP OF LIFE The poop word is a replacement For the other four letter word You know the one that means poop The one you have most likely heard There is a lot of poop in our life That is really like our body poop Both are really a necessity for living Let me give you the comparison scoop The type of food taken in your body Or what is fed into your life for you Will certainly determine precisely What type of poop you’re getting in to If you let the poop get all built up You tend to want to push and strain In hopes to hurry and force it out That can only cause cramps and pain Slow down and take a deep breath It really is always best to just relax The more you try to lighten up yourself The easier it will be for the poop to pass It’s time to worry if you have no poop Or if you just can’t get that poop out Keep it fresh and make room for more It feels great when it is all cleaned out A stall full of poop has the best worker As Proverbs 14:4 suggestively does say So a good worker does poop a lot Please don’t let it pile up for days No one wants to step in your poop Or even wants to see it for that matter We need to clean up our own poop Every little particle or a tiny splatter It is important to remember To always wipe twice It’s like double checking And it’s really the best advice If the same old poop is left Just every where lying around It only attracts the flies and scum Those pests from every part of town At times there may be a lot Of just stinky hot air Then sometimes you get The real poop coming there There are many different types Of shapes, sizes and textures With the daily poop we’re given The variety of life is measured I could probably go on and on Even you may think of more, I know So I’ll leave you with this one last note Try not to get caught in deep poop though Florence McMillian (Flo)

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Golden Age

Golden days of youthful frolicking remembrance
As I lie upon my bed and wonder the time
Watching as my LOVE of life deteriorates into a villianous pain
Alzheimers destroys her mind; abuse and lethargy curse her actions
Hate and destruction spew from a dry well of memories
Time stands still in this room three sixteen until the end of days
Family doesn't want to see her emotional outburst
Visitations become less frequent, nurses are jaded to offer hope
Talks of transfering the "patient" into a special facility
Remove the problem from our mist....we can't be bothered with her outburst
In this room is the shell of a life...once lived according to her plans
Memories live on in the descendants when time can find peace again....

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Call The Maintenance Men

  I’ve lost it. I’m exhausted.
 I can’t handle another day of these
 Auditory hallucinations. Doors creaking
Open Voices carrying around basins. 
 These days with no sleep
are starting to 
Become costly,
 to my overall health.
Wait, do I need help? 
      Hold up! 

 Grab a wrench!
 grab your tool belt!
We’ve got to get this girl back to 
Stellar mental health !
Wait, I’m not a machine?
I said to myself 
They said it’s okay ma’am 
We’re trained in these sorts
Of matters better than anybody else
Feeling stressed you say, take a shot
Of vodka while we take a look at you 
Right away 
A little elbow grease and your brain
Won’t be on its knees anymore 
You’ll be back on your feet in no time 
Miss, we  can’t miss with our new  
And improved stationery kits.
Just relax and you’ll improve
It’s not like you’re the only one
Going through this.

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What's on the Cover

What's on the Cover
        by Amy Swanson

"Fat, fat, the water rat,"
the other children said - 
and she could never after
get that phrase out of her head.

Little girl would anxiously
await the time for play,
praying silently that they
would not tease her today.

Every recess was the same
and each day she would cry,
at times she felt so hideous
she wanted to just die.

She had to work three times as hard
to lose a little weight
while others could eat anything
that sat upon their plate.

She grew into her teen years
all too quickly she found out
that if her food did not stay down
no longer she'd be stout.

She knew that this was not the way,
a miserable eating plan;
but it made the teasing stop,
she even met a man.

She kept her secret very well
continued it for years
while going through life's motions,
hid behind her silent tears.

Folks would say "You're beautiful,"
but if they only knew
just what it took to stay that way
they'd have a different view.

Life goes on, and time went by
no matter how she tried
she never felt like she belonged
sometimes she sat and cried.

Society cares far too much
for lust of lovely things,
And those that don't like what they see
will quickly clip the wings

of someone else who won't conform
to this world's shape and image.
It matters not, their brains or heart,
it's more about the visage.

She raised her head and looked into
the mirror, with wet eyes
she shook her head and suddenly
she came to realize

she was as good as anyone
with so much love to give -
she'd died inside, a slave to scales
she now wanted to live.

She splashed cool water on her face
and made a solemn vow
today would be a fresh new start
beginning here and now.

This is not just one girl's story
many share her tale;
warnings of bulimia
oft met with no avail.

If only we could look beyond
the flesh of one another;
True value based on what's inside,
not what's on the cover.

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''Will To Forget''

The frailness of a blank pallet.
Now conforms under hazed eyes that weep.
Does it bring truth to her treacherous past?
Oh' she is sure to find peace.
Life turns an unknown path.
Repulsive thoughts cease.
Sun breaks through.
Clouds lye no more on her tormented soul.
Reflections' sore heals in time.
Carry me to better place.
For now, I own the will to forget.

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All New Parts

In February, steel replaced bone 
in my right knee. In November,
they did the left. Two Januarys after, 
bone was cut away, and titanium 
replaced the left shoulder.
My jealous right foot took its turn 
a year later. That time,
it only took two screws
to hold the severed bone in place.

My new nickname is "B. O. B."
an acronym for Bionic Old Broad. 
Trips to the Arch set off alarms,
and boarding a plane became a hassle.

Arthritis is after me again;
my right shoulder is losing the battle,
my hands are in sad shape,
and I'm waiting for my hips to fail.
Before long, I may have all new parts.
One part grows weaker by the hour -
how long, you think, before 
they can do a brain transplant?

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Hospital times commonsense

Hospital times commonsense

Commonsense comes of age during hospital times
To trip on innocuous looking lapses and come up with questions
Road signs stand for visitors, locals have no need  of them
So the ambulance man notices one to seek directions from
Not to have noticed it so far was not my fault
Not to have divined as much was not his, no doubt.
But not to have properly known my neighbour was mine
For he works and matters in the hospital I am in
Parking lots cheat , vacant spaces you eye from a distance
Transforms into three cars in as many seconds
Short of cash, this old woman is asking for a loan
I remember, the one I see on my morning walks alone
Another mother  in the ICU has no use for frills
Her two sons squabbling on the question of sharing bills
Take her home to die is the younger one’s demand
The scrooge is drunk beyond stupid is what you slowly find
Cost of tests and tablets are just fringe accoutrements
The bill for their groundswell of goodwill is what in the end counts.

By S.Jagathsimhan Nair

For Giorio's 'Impress me-4'

Motif: Philosophical.

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It is Here Again

It is Here Again

By BJ Welsh

It’s raining and raining as requested
The thought I’ve just really digested
Watching and staring as the raindrops fall
Who do you think would miss me after all?

I sit and wonder without nary an expression
Days pass to weeks with only further digression
Time it seems is not on my side
The rain I pray will never ever hide

Rain used to be such a welcome sight
To clean the earth from dirt and its’ blight
Now I look for only grey clouded skies
Matching the look and sadness in my eyes

The rain it seems must never ever end
For which it is my only dearest friend
I seek it out with such joy and delight
Watching and waiting sometimes all night

The rain’s come again to see me through
This life of misery is well past due
It’s soothing and a welcome pleasure too
For which I have but very few

Tomorrow is another day for rain?
I can only hope I’m still here and sane
To live to see it is but a dream
I’m not long for this world, or so it would seem

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Mineral Baths - Saratoga Springs NY

Mineral Baths Saratoga Springs NY

She covers her private 
parts at the bath house. 
Mineral water fills a tub, 
centuries old. 
She feels cold until 
an old Women hands 
her heated sheets... 
now, her skin covered. 
Brought her clips to lift 
her auburn hair. 
The sheets cooled as the 
tub, now filled. 

A stray cat 
peers into the window... 
purrs, kissing glass. 
The old Women 
removes the sheet, takes  
the hand of a young lady 
as she carefully 
steps into aged porcelain. 
Tiny bubbles 
surround her skin. 

A soft pillow for her head... 
Now, relax. . . she tells herself,
dreaming of the 
cat kissing glass. . . 
alone, at last.

Nancy Duci Denofio

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breathing life into legalese

I, henceforth, known as the respirer, do
solemnly swear hereafter, to take you in,
in sufficient quantities to ensure 
continuation of the flesh's animation.

I additionally, do accede my heretofore,
essential need of your estimable service, 
and express my desire to continue our 
mutually beneficial, ok, parasitic, relationship

Being, as you are, substantive to well-being,
I wish to publicly, and, without reservation,
acknowledge, my sincere admiration for your
valuable and well known qualities

By any and all conveyances available to stated 
respirer, procurement of your services is
to be distributed to every cell of said being 
equitably and on an as needed basis until
such time as service is no longer necessitated

I, the aforementioned respirer, do in earnest, 
testify to my intent and necessity for 
a continual contractual relationship, with you
In short, you breathe life into mine

© Goode Guy 2013-04-26

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Skin I'm in Part One

Tough skinned -strong, take it and dish it out.  
Thin skinned - overly sensitive.  
Skin of our teeth -
struggle for life, survival. 
Skin defines and designs us, 
the skin we’re in, through pain, color issues, death and life.  

Skin-If skin could talk. 
Fascinating story. 
Not just color of skin but skin which is our body fabric, the material that wraps our 
soul and our innermost parts silky, splashed with water, warmth, cologne, love 
and labor-skin. 

yes john heck this is prose but...the skin I'm in Part One

Touch comes through skin and touch informs us of so much. The way people 
touch us tells us if they are comfortable with us and with themselves.  
It can be hostile, strident touch; rough, accusatory, disciplining, invasive or it can 
be sensual, exciting, invigorating, accepting, encouraging, loving, comforting. 

Skin Talk

too frequent breakouts, rashes, allergies, sores, impetigo, suffered 
embarrassment, pain and shame. Scars!  Coco butter for every nick and scrape.  
But my black knees and those scars embarrassing in
swimsuits or shorts 
legs were scarred with black spots.  
Marvin Taylor called me leopard legs in fifth grade and fifty years later, 
I remember the sting, shame and pain of it.  
Campaigned against my scarred legs with scrubs and other potions until the 
spots began to fade  and a sense of perspective...

skin challenges, burns, rapid tissue growth that should disfigure -yet the 
elephant man walks with dignity and grace in his could be monster face

severe acne in the face, severe psoriasis and yet their character and ways of 
dealing with these problems determine their real image, reflection and persona 
life is a gift that can not be determined by black spots on legs.  

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...this is so intimate of time, as a first kiss of time close of soul, so near, so dear of heart beat, so precious a rhyme that flows so intimately,
deep of time, down by the Crystal Seas...
...this is so intimate of dreams,
dreaming reality,
as the Crystal Sea so reveals of destinies galore,
destined as the night light of the moon-glows of starry eyes,
upon the waters,
...seeing tranquility upon the waves...
watching to the depth of a dream,
and a sun-rise
being so true...
for underneath and within this a moon-lit poem of starry night eyes, down by the Crystal Seas, a vessel sets sail upon the deep...into a kiss of dawn...
Sea to shinning Sea.

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Balance Within

Introduction: Even if you're tied to barely holding on, your control over will power shall pull you up towards the truth and success. But only if you believe up to all, that it's stronger than what you could be - that's when you balance the fall...

You may get old
Your memories may drown,
But your soul won't get cold
And beliefs won't breakdown.

Just don't you let go
As you never know,
Things you seek for all your years
They could be in your back yard.

Find the truth within the lies,
Fight your pride to end this cry,
Trust your soul; open the door
Balance yourself and roll the stones.

The one's you heart will always stay
So don't throw life out your doorway,
Life's too short and it's too real
Sometimes it's hard to see and feel

That's how you live a life,
The risk that breaks you down to bits
Saves and brings you back alive,
That's what we call the gift of life.

No matter how rough things might get
We get rewards for the risks we take,
No matter how hard or sad
Learn and value what you have.

Though, too much pride will leave you dried
Don't let 'hopeless', be your life's stride,
None of this will you take to grave,
Your deeds will lay, only your pave.

As you breathe in and do breathe out,
Make each one profound
And stand your ground,
As lies are just the fantasy,
The truth - is your ecstasy
And this will forever be plain to see... 

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Eat a lot of fruits and vegetables
At separate meals everyday

Run or walk a reasonable distance
To burn food and dispel toxins 

Drink water or fruit juices everyday
To nourish and cleanse the system

Walk or sit in sunshine moderately
To allow vitamin D be absorbed

Control yourself against harmful habits
Use in moderation good things in life

Breath in fresh air everyday 
Ventilate your  home and workplace

Have time to rest from labour
Early to bed,early to rise

Have no time to worry too much

chipepo lwele
*special dedication to naturophathic  doctors.
PS;I believe natural remedies can cure`incurables`

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Develop Your Own Shape

The meat on your bones Can be adjusted to create Just how you want to Develop your own shape First of all moisturize Every part of your skin Before getting it wet or in the sun Especially if stretching or tightening You don’t want your skin To have a dried out look Like a piece of meat With no oil while it cooks Use indoor lotions or outdoor oils And get completely moisturized Be sure the skin parts showing Are massaged while being applied For any part you want to shape You must always touch Even your hair is skin Be sure to treat it as such Keeping your chin up Means more than confidence It helps your face maintain It’s true born essence A mirror should be used To look at your reflection As you work out to reshape Any part of imperfection The basic shaping routine Should be at a vigorous pace While you keep a close look To watch the shape take place The Flo-Fitness program Is really fun to begin Most all of the exercises Are only up to a count of ten No need for sweating With the exercises you do We already sweat enough For the toxins to expel through Instead of a scale To take your weight Just use a tape measure To watch the inches dissipate It won’t take long Before you start to feel great And become the real you As you develop your own shape Florence McMillian (Flo)

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Karen, I spoke to Penny Poodle about you,
She barked and said, "what ever you do-
Be sure you tell her we are praying too,
And, I'll get my friends at the zoo to pray  for her, too."

So you see, Karen, not just people are praying for you-
But all of the animals of God's kingdom are, too-
And God, Who created us all in six days
Will hear all of our voices, and He'll be truly amazed!

So Karen, don't you be sad or blue!
For God is taking good care of you-
For all of the animals are praying So hard
Those tumor cells better be on their guard.

Soon the tumor will all melt away,
Even the cells that may have strayed,
And you can think about all of your animal friends,
You can call them all over and pat their front ends.
Karen, God is listening, and He can heal you. 

I never heard what happened to Karen,  but she had lots of friends praying for her 
so I hope she was healed.     Enjoy!

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After Dinner

After dinner
Taco night
Nearly midnight
Running up the stairs

Oh God
I had done so well
The family ate
And I ate
Seven o’clock on a Tuesday 
Only two
I only ate two
No cheese
No sour cream
I had done wonderfully

Eleven thirty on Tuesday
Everyone in bed
Everyone but me 
I approached the kitchen
I ate it all

No one saw how much was left
They won’t notice it’s gone
I put it all away
They didn’t see it
But I ate it all

Running up the stairs
They have their fans on
They’re asleep
They won’t hear me

I find my familiar place
Kneeling at my altar
Forgiveness is always found here
It’s time to confess my sins

My fingers slip into a spot they know too well
I struggle for a moment
Nothing will come up
Oh God
Don’t let it stay inside me
Another moment
I feel it coming now

Oh thank God
It’s all gone
Now I can sleep soundly

I wash my hands and face
Rinse my mouth
I look in the mirror
Why is this happening?
Oh my God
Look at me
This can’t be me
This can’t be what I’ve become

But what choice do I have?

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Washed Away My experience with Katrina

Innocent victims cry in the dark
Forced to take refuge in that park
Such wrath began to fall
For I shall never forget the day I got that call
Silence and sorrow heavy in the air
It was like nothing I could ever compare
Days turned to weeks
Thousands take dwelling beseeching for any relief
Thousands left waiting in utter disbelief 

I was supposed to be deployed
Yet an injury kept me here
My fellow workers attacked at the dome
Traumatized and in complete fear some had to return home
I feel so guilty
So guilty I should have been there
Innocent victims crying
Innocent victims now dying

An event so devastating
The stench of death filled the air 
We could not fathom something so unfair 
I counseled innocent victims
Still sticking strong to their convictions 
I still recall every haunting voice
Confused, frustrated and displaced
Innocent victims left without a choice

Families torn apart on that day
The day the levees broke
Families losing all hope
My job was to help them cope
Innocent victims left to cry in a park
Fear increases when light turns to dark
Like declaring Martial Law
Lives washed away, all humanity started to fall

On the dawn of a new day
So joyous… even an atheist bowed her head to pray
The media coverage was what really brought aid
Oh no!
Politicians began to look bad so of course something had to be done
Late in action but at least more help had come
There is still work to be had
Many left permanently sad
Entering in hundreds of names to locate the missing or those declared dead
Debriefed each night just to clear my head
I still remember so clearly the desperation and panic
When Katrina came in August 
Life turned frantic
Overwhelming emotions; I felt completely manic 
I will never forget the victims I helped in such grief
I hope when the bodies were identified; I wish just some…
Some could give a sigh of relief

It is important we do not forget those still suffering
The child who didn’t get the last kiss
The parents who will be dearly missed
We all have the ability to help
1,836 people dead!
Work together and ease the sorrow… 
Another disaster could just happen tomorrow
Make time to reach out 
So many innocent victims still in need
We all are capable of doing a good deed

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Emerald Fields

(May Birthstone: Emeralds)

On May 2nd, I attempted 
to enter the world,
 feet first.

To save both Mother and baby, 
the midwife's cruel hands 
reached in
and flipped me over.

My lack of cries,
a clue not understood.

Nighttime seizures, 
memory lapses, confusion.
Pills for Epilepsy prescribed 
and normal life restored.

Prayer for healing, in faith,
stronger than a mustard seed . . .
Ask, and you shall receive.
Pills dumped in the waste-bin.

Suddenly, freedom came,
as soft wind which caresses 
emerald fields of grain.

Matthew 17:20, Luke 17:6,
     John 16:24 RSV

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office exam

a soft quick knock
then entrance of smock and laptop
a quick greet, small talk, then
"Well, why are you here today?"

"Well Doc", I say, "I've noticed this bump."
he looks at it with three score eyes and
begins to type. "I'd say it's benign, but 
we'll check it just to be sure."
he stops briefly, looks up, and smiles

"Anything else?" he matter-of-factly says
He's done this twelve to fourteen times today,
four to six days a week, fifty weeks a year
since he started residency nearly two score ago,
he knows the part in his sleep

It's about a comfort here, 
a few choice questions there,
then write a 'script to make it better
cool the fever, banish the pain, 
make 'em feel better
- mostly about their lot in life
What else can a good doctor do?

© Goode Guy 2013-04-30

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Hurt and You Could Have it All

upstairs in my room
i put my ear to the floor
only to hear my parents screaming
the argument is about me
my mom yells "look at what your son has become!"
Heartless, unintelligent, fake...
my father replies back
"hes your son, hes your own pile of dirt!"
whenever my family is out together
we act happy like these fights never happen
but every night they do and i cant tell anyone
i have to act like someone else in order not to get introuble
What have i become?...hurt..dishonest..will this feeling dissapear?
I will drag you down and i will make you hurt..
I lift my head from the floor
still hearing the angry voices of my parents
i found an old needle, and i dug it into my skin
the next morning i go downstairs
with a cut off shirt on, and baseball shorts
My father grabs my arm
"what is this boy?"
i yank my hand away from him and i sit down on a chair
"its nothing sir"
my father repeats "are you cutting yourself?, why?"
i grab my bookbag and i disapear out the door
My father runs outside pulling me to the ground
"are you cutting yourself boy?!" he screams
i say "no sir i just scrapped my arm on my dresser"
My father grabs my face
"you better not cut yourself again" he replies
He hits my face, as i lay on the ground.
I didnt wake up until i felt something wet drip on my face
it was raining and dark outside
i run into the house and into the bathroom
looking into the mirror i see the bruise that was left on my face
My father wasnt home and my mother went to bed
"everything goes away in the end right, if i let him have it all, my moms pile of dirt?"
I sit upon my liars chair full of broken memories i cannot repair 
I become someone else, but the old me is still right there
if i could start again a million miles away i would keep myself
i will find my way

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Tijuana Mexico

Casualties of an enforced lifestyle shiver in the breeze
Along the rugged roads of old dust and ditches that divide
Rest a group of modest enclosures they call home
Built out of left over wood and delivery slates in 90 degrees

They seem content with their simplistic lifestyles and unsightly miles
Water is delivered in worn out trucks and stored in their homes in discarded tanks 
There is no sewer system, very few working water systems are scattered
Yet, if you were to pass through for a visit, the women would be cooking with smiles

During the day, men are bused to work in factories and earn fifty dollars a week 
Few people have the resources to receive a doctor’s visit and medications
“Anencephaly” a brain birth defect that their infants have, now significantly rise
When it rains there the roads become virtually impassable and unusably bleak 

They are a hard working people with values and a drive to nurture their youth
Bathing their children in the same lavadora they wash their dishes in 
Tijuana is among one of the poorest places in the world  
With these living conditions, it’s hard to turn your back from the truth

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My Battle

I was broken and bloody My soul was torn asunder,So death came for me.He thought it would be easy I thought I was done. But when he reached out to take my soul My spirit which was fading fast found its last ounce of strength and began to glow with an amazing power. So a battle began a battle for my soul. My tattered body then feel into a coma to try and save the last bit of its self.The battle raged within me for a full day. Somehow my spirit weak and faded managed to give death all and more then it could take. The battle ended and I awoke....alive the victor. So the question I ask the world is "If I still won the battle that weak and tired. What is there that I can't do if given the time to heal?"

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I have walked many hospital halls-
Entering each room to check on my patients
lying in their beds, looking at four walls,
Sick and alone and frightened of dark spaces.

Some of them were young and very ill-
Others were old and so very,very tired and pale,
I was so sorry I couldn't heal them with a pill-
But that was the fifties and we knew, sometimes we would fail.

My elderly patiens were quite sad,
I loved them all-they were so cute,
They were like children, sometimes good, other times bad-
But their histories told stories from which books are made.

The children all knew that they were very sick,
But they were so brave, it often made me cry-
It didn't matter if their name was Sue or Nick,
They knew that we were always on their side.

I could tell many stories about hospital halls
But I have to go now because my daughter calls,
I'll share more tales of when I was in love
With nursing and helping and serving my Lord above.  

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When my body decided to get sick again,
six sinus infections since last birthday,
I marched into the best ENT specialist,
waiting room lined with Hollywood’s
finest stars begging for reasons why they
couldn’t reach the octave of the day before,
impatiently flipping through old magazines,
interrupted by cell phones ringing in unison.

I got the lead role, thanks for your inquiry,
want to go to Hawaii for the weekend? Susie 
died. Funeral tomorrow. Allan’s away on business.
This doctor sucks. I have lunch with Ellen at noon. 
Dad’s in the hospital. Freckles just had pups, want one?

My name is called. I shuffle behind the nurse,
my chart clasped to her chest like the baby 
she might never have had, into the shoebox size room 
packed with instruments I didn’t know, 
despite three years of nursing school.

The suave, forty-something doctor,
released my X-rays from their sleeve,
and mounted them onto a screen. 
He looked up through his sleek wire frames, 
“You’re absolutely beautiful on the outside,
but a mess on the inside.” I wondered if 
he was making a pass or soliciting
a surgical procedure and how many times 
he repeated that line, loud enough for 
the pedestrians five floors down to hear 
this and the other truths about my battlefields—
three C-sections, knee surgery, twice a victim 
of what strikes one in eight women, and reconstructed 
organs of sensuality with tattoos to hide their truths.

Now I dodge doctors as one avoids the cones 
at the scene of an accident, but I can’t dodge this one.
My voice is hoarse, my breathing is shot
and I envy those vacuous starlets in the
waiting room, listening to their chitter 
chatter on cell phones. I sit in the exam room 
before the surgeon tells me one more time, 
something I need to do to hang onto my life, 
but I’d rather be the person before the scalpel found me. 

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The Fight for Perfection

Control over my life is what I seek 
to no longer be unwanted 
to gain the one thing i desire,
In my head lives a girl, Ana 
she guides me through the hard times
she helps me against my enemy,
Ana is always there for me, no matter what 
to advise me on the bad things 
to remind me of the goal, the aim,
My reflection shows the problem areas
which show me how far i still am
which focus me on what to avoid, 
The scales will always tell the truth 
unlike the labels on food packaging 
unlike the people who tell me i will never get it,
One day i will show the haters 
just what i can do
just what i can be,

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The Six Senses

                                             eyes embrace
                                                    A thousand words resonate
                                                 With each photograph they take
                                              Taste...seed soil ,and harvest DNA
                                            Remeberence of past flavors saturate
                             Intuition...the mind grasp hidden anger, joys and fears
                                               Touch... As gentle hands embrace
                                                    Each takes the pulse of grace
                      Smell...Scent memory is retained as distance subtles fragrance
                                          Lover's pheremones , our unburied dead
                                                         ... and war's bloodshed 
                                             Hearing...As observant ears embrace
                                  the words of joy, fear and all emotions resonate
            As age deafens , unheard , is the sound of music and children's words
                                   As death silences , the meaning of sound ends
                                                           As our first born's begins

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The Waffle House Way!

Customers are like bouquets of flowers passing through our twenty-four hours.
Breakfast, lunch, or dinner all 365 calendar days guaranteed for a full twenty-four seven.
“Hello Sir”! Welcome to Waffle House America’s favorite place to eat!
Some say we are the closest thing next to God's Great Heaven!
We have a confusing language of our own, the blabbering towers of the real “April Showers”
Service with a smile that has walked the many hard-earned extra tenths of miles,
Nothing computerized with files, just organized by our own genuine unique styles.
Waitresses are serving with hard enduring time and each crosses over a mighty fine line,
Master grill operators optimize a divine talent marking your plates perfectly aligned.
Friday and Saturday nights the party train arrives blessed coffee to the many lips we’ll revive.
Regulars and irregulars you’re served just the same, pardon me did I really get your name?
Loud ones, quiet ones, and even the picky ones strive to come back to us,
Here we bring back the basics of being alive.
Scattered, smothered, covered, chunked, diced, peppered, capped, or topped? 
So do you want them “All the way or just partly aflame”!
Young, old, or different at being indifferent just being sane, 
Especially when the “Waffle House Way” is to say the first “HELLO”!
“Morning Mam”! Can I get you your usual or will you be having something different  “TO GO”?
Brief moments of insanity with the moods that walk through our doors, 
Thank God for every single one of those Jukeboxes!
The quality of service opening an eye to the sly foxes, 
We’d really be in trouble if we sold liquors!
Foreign, military, and even civilian are in and out, 
Our servers are like the gold stored at Fort Knox.
So what can we get you today that you haven’t already had before?
 “The Waffle House Way” America shouts!
 It’s like being home because that’s what we are all about.

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Interrupt This Message...

I've been hiding here for years
but you don't know my name
You call me something different
but to me it's just the same
I'm hungry all the time
though I don't eat and tell
I love that cream colored coating
now, you don't feel so well
I devour meat and fats
but I never feel full
I've seen the 'nodes of Ranvier'
with them I have some pull
While I devour fiber with no shame
let me interrupt this message

I've been hiding here for years
but to me it's just a game
You call "myelin, my meal
I was born to inflame
I like getting on your nerves
and there is nothing you can do
Though You'll keep on trying
you can't move when you want to
So make them stop all the research
I must continue to consume
for I mantain control
in this axon of a room
so while I pause to feed
Let me interrupt this message...

I'll continue hiding here for years
as you complain about fatigue
I don't care about your fears
I must fulfill my needs
While you suffer I only hope
they never come up with a cure
because that inventive medication
might make you who you were
You would be walking once again
and feeling really fine
M.S. would be defeated
then I'd run out of time
Oh no, you've taken something new
and you interrupt this message
interrupt this message...
interrupt this mess...

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A Modern Travesty

I Did Not Consume My Exquisitely Delicious Boston Cream At The Local donut shop on East Colonial Boulevard For Breakfast This Morning While On My Ravenous Way To My Place Of Employment .

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Grandma's Alzehiemer's

She sits quietly now,
Gone is the chittering,
Squirrel sound,
She no longer rocks,
Incessantly to and fro,
She sits silent.

The voice that rang,
To the rafters,
And thrilled thousands,
When she sang,
“How Great Thou Art”,
She sits silent.

Like pearls set aside,
In a dark corner,
Unused and unworn,
Their life, their glow,
Slowly fading away,
She sits silent.

The sparkling eyes,
Her joie d’ viere,
Has withered up shrunken,
Hidden deep inside,
Not here yet not gone,
She Sits silent

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When the sun shines bright and the sky is blue
That feeling of happiness so friendly cheers you
But away from the light blinds closed like the night
Someone is lying curled up crying with fright

The thoughts that are swirling in this persons mind
Are dark and unfriendly a terrible kind
Life has a down side that they comprehend
That feeling of unhappy loneliness will it never end

The door bell it rings let them go away
Don’t want the bother in bed I will stay
This life has no meaning they will not understand
I don’t want sympathy my life’s in my hands

Please God give me respite from these feelings so strong
Unhappiness it seems has stayed with me for so long
I dread the wakening from sleep each time
That feeling of desolation it will not leave my mind

The darkness gives me some comfort although it may be small
This cocoon of self pity it seems I revel in it all
That’s what those around me think when they recall
The tantrums and the crying they say it is for sympathy that’s all

But if they only knew the depths to which I sink
The thoughts that torture my mind when I start to think
This journey that I travel this hell I’m going through
Maybe I should end it all perhaps that’s what I’ll do

These feelings I will have to conquer because no-one knows but me
They do not understand within the family
They have had a lot of stress to live with because I’m ill
The treatment seems to be working and I take the tablets still

Talking through my feelings it seems so foolish but then
If I am to recover and make this nightmare end
I am the only one to help myself with my councilor so kind
We intend to bring my inner most thoughts to the surface of the mind

The stigma that is mental health most people don’t understand
What has happened is she mad her life before her so grand
But that darkness that is inside the mind it has a life that is so real
Those feelings lets hope those doubters will never have or feel

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A Males Prostate is 'Her' Business Too...Part 2

A Males Prostate is 'Her' Business Too...Part 2

How does one go about doing this, 
especially if it’s the first time? 
One of the things a male should overcome 
is the unease that he may feel at having some other 
Peirce through too his moon. 
Some males wonder whether they have latent gay feelings 
if they indulge in this kind of activity. 
But this isn’t so; all males can engage in 
self prostate milking whatever their sexual orientation. 
Another concern is that the moon is “dirty” or “unclean” 
because it is where bad breath comes from. 
Again, this is a misconception. 
In fact, the mouth harbors more bacteria 
than any other part of the body.
Still, i love it when you talk too me dirty.


some males report that while they do not achieve 
lightning and thunder when milking their prostate glands, 
the level of pleasure they feel is still very nearly memorable 
as to that of being born again. 
The milk trickles out or flows into a pool even though there’s no volcanic eruptions, 
in terms of how that word is often used in a midsummer's nights dream. 
Instead, one feels a deep sense of
it has been compared to a very good bowel movement – only a hundred times more or less 

You should be aware 
that there are studies indicating that certain males
who jog up and down the street alone 
or have volcanic eruptions regularly 
have lower incidences of prostate inflammation, 
prostate cancer, and or prostate enlargement. 
Given this evidence, 
self prostate milking seems to be a safer way too go, 
convenient, and inexpensive way to make sure that one’s 
libido and prostate health are in optimum condition.

and you don't need too die of cancer or have your 
needful things cut out prematurely.
Self checking should not be embarrassing, 
Nor should you be dieing for 
not doing it a little more aggressively.
and if not for you, then do it for 'her'..
........after all she is... 
....the reason..
that you are here and she is your other you.

Is It Poetry

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So long and farewell

A life long friend,
A soul mate,
A heroine, a star
A woman so phenomenal,
The very best by far

I never thought I’d have to 
Say these last goodbyes
So long and farewell my hero
A girls so strong and wise

These last few weeks of life 
Since your diagnosis
Have been so tough, but you pulled through
So difficult to notice

One day we will meet again
And live our lives together
We’ll start a new life, you and me
And share one heart forever

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The theme of this story
is a brown beagle puppy
with a blocky head, large ears,
a curved-up tail and white pawns.
I proudly mamed that gorgeous pooch:
Lucky...the hound that loves to smooch! 

I was asleep, cuddled up in a warm  blanket...
when I hear the bark of a dog, and
as the howl increased, the wind whipped the iced window;
and hurriendly went down stairs,
without putting my slippers on, so curious
to know where that high-pitched bark came from.

When the door slammed open, there surprisingly, I saw
a stranded, shivering beagle stucked in snow:
staring at me with innocent puppy eyes,
and I could tell he was hungry and cold;
he tried to lift his frozen and stiff paws, but he couldn't...
a quiver of sympathy gave me goose-bumps! 

I picked him up and brought him in,
and he started to lick my face to thank me,
so affectionate and loving was that expression,
which I reminisce quite often, going back to that winter's evening.
I laid him in a small crate with a thick blanket, and he went to sleep;
how calm and happy was he, lightly snoring and dreaming!

The next day I took him to the nearest Animal Hospital,
and they gave him a warm bath, and how he loved that!
Yes, the beagle was out of danger and he was healthy,
like he was before he got lost and couldn't find his way home,
and since He had no tag on his collar, he couldn't be identified by name;
I wanted to keep this beautiful dog so badly...the playful dog I called Lucky!

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Birthdays come but once a year
A day we celebrate, a day to cheer
We all know the day we're born and our age
For birthdays bring us joy or change of stage

The day I celebrated my fourty-ninth year
On the other side of the world fear
Horror for a young girl named Heather
Who was swimming in ocean waters from boat tethered

Swimming around the ocean deep 
Working up an appetitate for something to eat
Was a great white shark fourteen feet, whopper
Jaws powerful enough to bite through copper

At home I thought I had turned fifty
I figured this year would be very nifty
My father who was in his nineties
Reminded me that I was only fourty-ninty

In a land way down yonder
A girl named Heather was pulled under
Great white figured she was good meat
Nice and tender a very tasty treat

A girl named Heather was saved
That very day lived to be one to praise
People who worked to keep her alive
She praised God who lives in hearts and on high

Sara lived many years
Saw her grandsons through tears
She was the strength and glue
Who saw her family's problems through

Just in recent years in a land down under
A fourteen foot great white shark did blunder
Caught in a fisherman's net
He'll probably live this mistake regret

No, the fisherman cuts the lines
Frees his catch and shark from bind
Now the shark he named Cindy
Follows him around even when windy

Follows him everywhere he goes
Let's him pet her on her nose
Rub her belly and dorsal fin
She even grunts and tries to grin

Which of these do you think is the most grateful
Heather who is now disable
The shark who was spared his life
Or Sara the mother, grandmother, and wife

(The story about Heather is true. The shark circled and bit her right leg.  Then circled and 
grabbed her left leg.  The people on the boat were hitting the shark and try to pull her into 
the boat and the shark took her whole left leg off.  She was only attended by a nurse who 
was on the boat and radioed a doctor on shore as to what to do.  She was 20 hours away 
from the nearest doctor.  She was lifeflighted to a hospital in California where she had to 
have multiple surgeries and now has an artificial leg.     The story about the shark caught in 
a fisherman's net was really not true.  The grandmother here was a true story.)

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He sits at a booth and orders for everyone:
"Eliza will have a strawberry lemonade
and a salad, no dressing;
Hubert will take an ice-cold beer
to wash down his steak;
my grandmother, here, will have the chicken
and green beans;
and I suppose I'd like the duck."
The waitress responds to his requests:
"I'm terribly sorry, sir, but I’m terribly confused.
I see no Eliza to serve a lemon or salad;
and Hubert’s not here to prove he’s of age.
Your grandmother, dear, I’m afraid isn’t here;
and we don’t have duck here to put on your plate.
I'm sorry to say, mister, 
but you are alone.
No one is here with you tonight."
He stares up at her, baffled—
two tangled prisms absorbing dim light
"Miss, I insist, please bring me the food.
My friends and I have grown weary
from battle and war and we need to dress our wounds. 
Miss, can’t you see that we’re brutally beaten?"
"Sir, I’m sorry to say that you are not damaged
or beaten in any kind of way. Your clothing is bright
and your hair is all combed. 
You are still very much alone."
He stands up straight and sighs,
"a man is born alone and so, alone is how he dies."

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Knowledge is the cure


Children gather around there is a story I must tell.
It’s something that I live with so it’s a story I know well.
Learn to see the lessons before they become regrets.
The consequence you’ll pay will be one you won’t forget.

I’ve never been afraid but of this you should.
Hear these words let them serve you good.
Weight out all your options or you may get HIV
It will change all you know effect all you can be.

There won’t be any warnings but you will feel forsaken.
What may seem correct, you may have mistaken.
Many things around you may seem better than they are
Learn it see the danger and keep yourself afar.

I live with this infection that simply steals life.
It’s strength is uncertainty and comes with strife.
Learn to listen to the warnings before it’s too late.
All that you love shall be devoured by this fate.

All you need is to protect yourself with knowledge
It is a lesson from the streets not one you learn in college.
Isolation becomes real as the loneliness begins.
It’s the battle I fight that I can’t ever win.

Be careful of your choices don’t let them choose you.
Protect yourself or your life will become askew.
Always using condoms is one sure thing to do.
Hiv can infect anyone it can happen to you.

The only thing I know is there isn’t any cure.
Death is always looming of this you can be sure.
I wouldn’t wish this life on a single soul
It’s like having a puzzle and watching the pieces go.

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Stomach Flew

PEPTO BISMOL said to her friend, "MLANTA's coming over, what should I serve?"

Her friend replied, "Perhaps your ANTACID would like a PRILOZEC salad, if she has ZANTAC
of her TUMS.  If she's not hungry, you could take her to the MAAL OXspecially since you 
need to get some new ROLAIDS for your car"

"Yes, but the GAS-X so costly!  I don't know if I have enough PEPSID in my car to get there.
It LACTAID the last time I went to the store to get MILK OF MAGNESIA  for PHILLIPS.  And 
what if the lunch GAVISON upset stomuch?"

"Well, you could TAGAMENT along for her, especially if she's BEANO...full of ALKA SELTZER!"

"That sounds crazy!" said PEPTO BISMOL.

"Well, IMMODIUM giving you some suggestions!"

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I Died On The Operating Table At Yale

I died on the operating table at Yale.
My brain aneurysm explosion was off the scale.
My heart, my brain and my lungs all failed.
My life was shaken like a 10 on the Richter scale.
My life, like a train, was totally derailed.
I left my body and above it I sailed.
I looked at my body and it appeared very pail.
I heard my doctor say, "we’ve lost him!"
My chances of resuscitation were very slim
I heard the machine going beep, beep, and beep.
I looked at my body and it looked like I was sleep.
To the other side I sailed like express mail.
Upon returning, I saw my doctors assail. 
They worked at a heroic scale.
They continued their work to keep me on earth.
I heard my doctor say, “we’ve got him back!”
I re-entered my body and began my comeback.
The number of days hospitalized was one-eight-zero.
Because of my miraculous recovery, I shout bravo!

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Never attempting of striking it rich,
whenever my cravings give me another itch,
I'm used to a quite and simple life:
enjoying good food and sharing a coldl glass of wine 
when relatives and friends drop by;
why be someone you weren't meant to be?
Any millionaire around the globe,
sipping champagne desiring what I love?

With my beach cap pulled down, 
so that my short hair doesn't sizzle and change color,
as my light skin turns to a golden tan;
yes, I thank God for a breeze cooler than a fan!
Whole afternoons are spend on this pristine beach,
with a waterfront that a Californian will envy,
to melt away that old cliche' of vanity;
come down here...the East Coast is a wonderful shore! 

Low class, middle class and the upper one,
all share this unquenchable feeling,
to lay on the salty sand and begin to dream;
Am I talking non-sense or tackling the zest for living...
that this society has been unawarely denying??

Striking it rich is a temporary fancy,
imagining the possessions money will buy,
and many untaught temptations will materialize;
some will die by snorting deadly coke,
others squandering it on mistresses and hookers...
God, how the human spirit is corrupt  and consumed by lurid
and unhealthy desires that once were out of reach!  
And hopefully someone will ponder this,
to wake up to this gruesome, and parlous reality
and spend his or her fortunes wisely! 

What good people will do for the betterment of the deprived ones?
First give them love from the heart, then help them financially...
that's the smart way caring, of planning to strike it rich;
what's the use of looking at your glittering gold,
and not giveit  away to help anyone whose thirst and hunger
show in the sunken eyes...waiting for someone to feed their bellies!

If I ever stroke it rich, I wouldn't be here enjoying this sunshine, 
but I'll get out there and search for the needy and helpless ones,
and stop the selfishness and madness that money provides;
if I share my good fortune with them, others will follow my example,
and a real change will take poverty everywhere in our world!
Follow me, and search for everyone give them back their precious life!


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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A Males Prostate is 'Her' Business Too...Part 1

The prostate gland plays a major role both in a males reproductive capacity and his ability to 
enjoy making you. 
Little wonder then that this organ has been called the
little walnut or the, 

“male G-spot” or the 'male uterus.'

We are some times referred to as cows as well.

Knowing the right way to stimulate it can bring intense lightning and thunder. 
And because some studies suggest that making lightning and thunder regularly can prevent 
most prostate disorders, 
more and more males are finding it to their benefit to indulge in self prostate milking, or 
checking for irregularities like 'cancer'
yes males can get it too.

The prostate gland is responsible for producing so much gosh, 
that milky liquid that carries little yous coming from 
the heavans and out for more gosh during lightning and thunder.
While lightning and thunder do their part in relieving 
the prostate of its load of yous, 
there are times when a dudette is unavailable 
or the dude wants to try something other 
than regular jogging up and down the street for a change. 
Here is where self prostate milking comes in too play, it's a game.

Is It Poetry

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' Jennie - Pennie (My Big Sister)

Everywhere I Look … I See Jennie
Short, Red-Hair and a Smile, So Bright and Pretty
Jeanette … my Older, Big Sister… I Wish I was More Like Her…
        … My Dear Jennie … My Sweet Jennie …

Treated me like I was Her Baby … That was Jennie
Helped me to be a Real-Lady … Just like Jennie
Taught me how to Share and just how to say my Prayers …
        … Jennie … Great Lady Jennie

She was in Her Early Adult Years and I was Young Too
… when Mama Left… There was nothing, We Could Do …
            … Cancer … is not a Loving Word …
        I Wish It Had Been The Last I’d Heard …
                … Oh Jennie … Loving Jennie …

In that Cold-Clinical-Room … Lay Jennie
She Would Be Leaving Soon – God ! … Not Jennie !
She asked me, ‘Did She Fulfill … God and Our Mama’s Will …?’
        Yes, You Did Jennie… I Said You Did Jennie !

… She was in Her Late, 40-Years, but Still, Much Too Young To…
… Like when Mama Left… There was nothing, We Could Do …
                     … Cancer … is not a Loving Word …
                    I Wish It Had Been The Last I’d Heard …
                           … Oh Jennie … I Love Jennie …

When I Wrote This Song … I was Missing Jennie
God … We Can’t Believe She’s Gone … I Loved Jennie
        Jennie-Pennie … You Kept Your Promise…
                  Mama Will Be Proud of Us…

… May Jesus, Call Jennie … When The Time Comes, Please Call Jennie
          Lord Call Jennie … Lord Call Mama … and Then Lord Call Me …

            Jennie, Left Loved Ones... February 29th, 1992 …
          I hate Leap-Years Now …. ‘til I Leap of Faith to You …
                     … Cancer … is Not A Loving Word ! ! !
                             Will It Be The Last I Heard ? …

                      In Memory of my Beloved Sister

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The Bottom Of The Tree

I am beginning to see,
what makes the world go round,
and I am quiet disturbed,
at some of the things I have found.
The higher you get,
the rules begin to change,
what once you were taught,
now is not the same.
Never lie,
never steal,
do what is right,
cling to what is real.
Every promotion,
brings some change,
the higher you go,
the more you gain.
These kind of jobs,
are not for me,
I am very content,
at the bottom of the tree.

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people have been thinking of their financial situations 
wondering if they have them in hand
and in this day of global economic fluctuations
wondering about the futures they had planned
people have been thinking about their spiritual walk
wondering if they are only talking the talk
do they tithe enough? do they pray all the time?
do they study the Word? do they keep God on their minds?
to be turned by faith we need to readjust 
our lives in relation to the God we say we trust
to be turned by faith we need to make a move
and get into a whole new spiritual groove

we're so stuck in our ruts in most aspects of our lives
the same tired jobs, the same old friends, the same personal strife
we need to look at our lives through the eyes of God
and rearrange it by making a brand new start
to just step out of the boat without the anchor of fear
to trust in the power of Jesus and remembering He is always near
to be turned by faith never to lose sight 
of the Lord Our God's guiding light
to be turned by faith by being happier and physically fit
totally trusting in that which is the Holy Spirit

God has placed us here for a reason
and will use each of us in due season
we all play a part in God's master plans
just let your belief be the vehicle that delivers you into His hands
the road might be rocky and the journey will be long
just let God position you where you'll prosper and be strong
in the boat with Jesus on the troubled seas of life
holding on and trusting in the power that is Christ
in the boat with Jesus now under His authority
in the boat with Jesus now sailing on calmer seas
to be turned by faith towards higher ground 
now that your situation has been turned around
to be turned by faith to no longer worry about what's up ahead
to be turned by faith with a life that's now spirit-led
to be healthier and happier trusting in God to provide all your needs
to be turned by faith and knowing with God you will succeed

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The Hospital

Five months in the hospital.
They don't know what is wrong.
I.C.U. and feeding tubes.
What the hell is going on?

They've run every test known to man.
Still can't say why she's sick again.
Amputate the leg. Shave the head.
Dialysis on stand-by.
Shots here. Procedures there.
And specialists of all kind.

You get to know the hospital staff.
Patients come and go.
Visitors cry and patients die.
People you get to know.

He stays in the hotel right next door.
What's it all for?
He's been here for every meal.
Late night calls and four bare walls.
Talk on the phone, at least twice a week.
Keep her on the prayer list at church.
And try not to cry.

"Hold on strong. It won't be long.
And home you soon will go."
Then, "Where do I begin?
There's an infection again."
Two more weeks to stay.

She looks at her husband
and she cries again.
"If I'm gonna die
I'd rather die at home.
Not here all alone."

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Save A Child


The very saddest thing the saddest of all,
     Is to see a little small child starving and waiting for death to call.
And see it’s momma pleading with her eyes hoping someone will help her child.
     While we sit here obese with our plates so full, how high the food is really 
Our world is so unbalanced and so unfair,
      There is enough to go around but we have to share.
If every person could hold a starving child as it draws it’s last breath,
      And have that child look into your eyes with hopes you have come to spare it 
this death.
I think maybe then we would all reach into our jeans,
     And share what we’ve got so none of us has to witness this scene.
I pray that peace and happiness fill every ones heart,
     And that we all dig a little deeper and let this gift of sharing grow from the start.
A starving child is no ones enemy,
     And pity won’t feed it or set it free.
If you can help and you don’t that is like committing a crime,
    I pray you and yours never experience this sadness and that it can be stopped 
in our lifetime.
Send what you can I know you’ll be blessed,
     Help that little child please give it your best.

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Burning wide black shaded eyes
squint,steal a blurred glimpse
and shut as stinging tears
mixed with facial muck smear

Gazing in the bathroom mirror
my eyes teared honey lime until my vision became clearer
and the world became visable 
sacred nightly ritual's
side effects of cheap sweet generic mess

Late night I gently applied honey lime
into fines lines , obvious signs of progressive aging
my taste in cheap facial care's always changing

The past proved new
generic solution unremoved
stick like crazy glue

There're awful goup imitations
causing severe skin irritations
they stricken faces with moles,
rashes and skin blotch discolorations
that clash with social circles
some are inexpensively hurtful

I tried to remove the sooth skin peel
sticky as glue as it congealed
my bleeding skin healed slow
and now blond peach fuzz grows
over healing scrapes,scratches,bruises,rashes
sores and blemishes it seems its side effects are endless

Heavy mascara and fake sunshine smiles 
are the safest fashion style 

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The Art Of Growing Old

As the days become shorter and cooler,
   And my age climbs a little farther up the ruler.
Life has taken on a new and wonderful meaning.
   I’ve finally reached a point in life that many take to be demeaning
I am an official member of the Old Timers Club,
   It’s an elite and prestigious hub.
There is just one rule to join in this niche,
   You have to be as old as a rock and still able to scratch your own itch.
No dues are charged we just gossip a lot, 
   About what’s wrong with so and so and the ailments we’ve got.
How many medications you’re on or what new thing the doctors have removed,
   And what side effects they have and whether they’re F.D.A. approved.
Sometimes we reminisce about family till someone starts to cry.
   Then we just sit there rocking thinking on days gone by.
There is one true saying, if you live long enough you too will grow old.
   So far it’s not a crime but they’re working on that I’ve been told.
This exclusive club is known for its heartache and pain,
   But a lot of love is shown as long as you remain.
It’s something we’ve earned and we have the scars to show.
   That growing old is not always the best way to go.
As long as we’re able to gather or talk,
    And know that some one still cares whether we can stand and walk.
I guess maybe it’s support this thing we seek.
    Cause growing old alone truly makes life reek.
I think loneliness is the worse fear of all,
    Just waiting out your days and longing for somebody to come by or even just 
The young act like old age is a contagious disease,
   They might catch it if you happen to sneeze.
I remember when depends was a state of mind,
    Not something you wore around your old behind.
With that little thought I think I’ll close for now.
     That’s about all I think they’ll allow

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Our Garden Of Candles

How can one begin to caress the unknown,
as tomorrow is coming closer, our yesterdays gone.
Between the days, lie the bitter truth,
when youth disappears, and there is nothing we can do.
Reality is awakened from a dormant sleep,
capturing an image supposed to be me.
Unlike the making, of expensive fine wine,
years have a way, of being unkind.
The greatest treasure on this journey through life,
is the wisdom acquired, from our garden of candles, burning
so bright.

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Coal Miners

From sun up to sun down, they worked all day,
but down in that hole they always slaved,
light from a lantern, is all they had,
and quitting time really made them glad.
Coal dust covered them from head to toe,
and year after year it hurt them so.
No other jobs could be found back then,
Sons, and fathers, enemy, and friend.
Safety standards were not the best back then,
time was the enemy of the coal miner men.
Cave-in's were common in that cold wet tomb,
where they spent their days, surrounded by gloom.
Times have changed, things are better today,
but still they are in danger, no matter how safe.


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My Little World


I feel so small,
   In the spectrum of it all.
No more important than a mere speck of dust,
   Lost in this matrix with no one to trust.
With no will to climb higher, 
    Scared of being burnt as I near the flames of the fire.
All trust has vanished throughout time,
    Putting your trust in another can often leave you feeling like slime.
Emotions can only blind you,
    And keep you from doing the things you need to do.
Your heart is your most tender of garments, 
    Especially when worn on your sleeve exposed for all to torment.
And if exposed for too long it is said it will turn to the hardest of stone,
    Isolation is wrong for the heart can’t stand to be left all alone.
So there we go again the circle is complete,
    Trust or isolation without companionship we’ve met defeat.
And without trust no companionship will be had,
    So forget what I just said I think I’ve just gone mad.
A white coat a padded room, 
    A safe place for brilliant minds to bloom.
It’s never to late to get it right,
    At least that’s what my doctor tells me most every night.
Said my mind just needed a rest,
     As he shows me pictures for some kind of test.
See ya later,
     Irish tater.

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what a catch!

a woman with a hemorrhaging problem went to see the Lord Jesus Christ
she believed that if she could only touch Him, it would save her life
as Jesus passed by the crowd she reached out and touched His hem
she was miraculously healed, the flow of blood did stem
physically, morally and emotionally she'd been condemned by her own peers
instead of praying for her to heal, the prayed for her to disappear
for misery loves company and with some people you will find
that even though they say they are Christians, they don't possess God's Kind

yes, life can sometimes be anxious, depressing and knock you to the ground
it can be tedious and routine, making you feel run down
yet when things happen over which we have no control
allow God to order your steps and with the Holy Spirit achieve you goals
just break out of your rut and go forward in your life
take a leap of faith today and catch the wave that is Jesus Christ

after that woman touched Jesus' robe she then attempted to hide
then Jesus said,"who touched me", for the power in Him did subside
that woman then stood up confessed to all and told Jesus why
He said to her,"your faith has healed you, go in peace" with God's prize

what a catch she made that day, it was a wave of faith
what a catch she made that day for on God she did await
her story has been passed on down, it's an example of unconditional belief
that if one lets God into their life through Him comes healing and relief

allow yourself to cleansed, wade in the water of God's tide
catch the wave of faith and then hold on for the ride
call on your determination to be your salvation and your inspiration
and whenever you call on Jesus Christ the power in Him will leave
and continue on to a place where there is a need
what a catch, what a catch, now healed and of good cheer
her faith in God has made her whole, her burden she no longer has to bear

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I Can See Me Right Now

I passed the park on my way home tonight,
the track was full of joggers, and people on
Some were running at a steady pace,
while others walked slowly, already
out of the race.
Old, and young, side by side,
trying to keep up with the one by their side.
I had to stop, and join right in,
made me feel good, how long has it been.
Fresh air moving across my face, made me feel
alive, and so many different people all 
wearing a smile.
Something different tonight,  was a welcome sight,
maybe I'll lose some weight, if I really try.
Fit, and trim, I can see me right now,
sitting on the beach,  drinking Pina Coladas,
when summer rolls around.

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In her day she dazzled the boys
and made many a girl jealous.
Fantasy was always reality
and love was the most important thing of all.
The sun always shone so bright
and the moon glowed all thru the nights.
Today she speaks with no reply given.
Her days are long and lonely,
and her nights are cold and sometimes wet
from an uncontrollable bladder 
that has caused her such grief for so long.
Hands that do not open up
and legs that will not staighten out.
Unable to reach for cover during a cold night
and unable to walk to the bathroom to relieve herself
and save the embarrassment of a wet bed.
Unable to push herself in her wheelchair
and not capable of getting food or water when she would like.
A mouth that does not move
and words that will not come out.
Her days do pass with many who walk by with no nod of
recognition or a thoughtful word to say.
One wish left for her to help her get by is the wish of death to
come soon and the golden gates to open up
and welcome her.

Dedicated to all who are unable to care for themselves.

Written by:
Misty D. Burress

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Enough Is Enough

Did they say toys from China contain lead,
I know that can't be what they said.

"Oh yes,"  I heard them right,
it was on the news again tonight.

"Well,"  what do they plan to do,
the toys are many, not few.

Another reason we better wake-up,
"people."  when do we say enough?"

Details | Narrative | |

The long journey home


I watched the old fellow fight back the pain as he stood to his feet,
You could see the difficulty just trying to get out of his seat.

But he didn’t complain on the contrary he said he was blessed.,
He said he knew of a couple folks that would trade places with him he guessed.

He said no matter what is wrong you have to make the best out of it,
And besides what good would it do to get all mad and throw a fit.

He said the old Good Lord knows what I can handle and what I can’t,
I don’t think he would pile anymore on me than I can handle and please don’t go 
thinking I’m one of them saints.

He said I’m just old and tired and I’ve run my race,
Now I just sit and wait for that day I can look upon my Saviors face.

Don’t think it will be long till He comes calling on me,
He said I’m sure enough ready cause there is someone up yonder I’m sure 
wanting to see.

Just about all my friends and family done gone on ahead,
Glory bound, glory bound was the last words the old fellow said.

He looked at me and smiled then he crumpled to the ground,
I knelt down over him and I saw in his old face it was peace he had found.

Well I reached in my pocket and pulled out my phone,
And called 9-11 and waited so as not to leave the old guy laying there alone.

I watched as they covered his face and placed him in the ambulance and then 
drove away,
I never got his name but you can bet I’ll sure enough remember him till my dying