Eps-spine..Is a serious condition' currently afflicting
The white house, and many world
potentates..Aquired due to close proximity to the
Walking death ( most commonly known')
As epstein jeff..I am afraid.? No.! Pleased
To diagnose' removal from drugs; radical surgery, by laser if
Required? Also, denial of access to social
Media platforms for all affected, immediate removal of funding, coupled with exposure to Biblical
proportianal purging regularly.!
Maybe also? a two year stint in sewer
cleansing? At citys of the incumbent peoples choice.? With a review at the end
And re-employment if they have not learned to a sufficent standard, and the
Same if they have proffiancy.' I beleive that they would un-derstand that rationale?
So i'd employ it to reduce any chance of
Trauma.'
542.
Learning Assessment of Learning
A Prof. Ed. subject – Assessment of Learning
The product of the way of teaching
Test your student in different ways
See his progress in several days
Keep track of his portfolio & achievements
Discover & diagnose the way he comprehends
His performance can be relative & absolute
Then you can know if he deserves a salute.
-02/25/2017
(Dumarao)
*PEN Poems
Don't know why he didn't tell
He is in denial
Because he was diagnose with cancer
Yes cancer is a horrible disease
We think that he used to smoke
Yes we are shocked
He left his children and wife
Behind
Yes we believed that he was
A good father to his children
Yes he must be suffering in silence
We don't think he has
No body looking after him
Physicists teach and talk
Physicians heal and walk
Physiologists exercise and specialize
Psychiatrists dramatize and immortalize
Psychologists observe and internalize
Therapists diagnose and mobilize
Radiologists scan and rock
Pharmacologists and Toxicologists mix and match drugs and block
Paleontologists, Neurologists, Meteorologists, Politicians, Philanthropists, Philatelists and the rest apply PHYSICS too... patch, flock and jock!
All of these questions circle round in my head
they are the barriers that keep me from bed.
Sat here before you, I’ll lay it all on the table
keep me from guessing, if you are able.
How long will it be, till the chosen one is me?
Are there roses just around the corner?
What is his name? Does he diminish my pain?
Are we bonded, but not by trauma?
Do you see an office, adorned with high profit or at least a better place to be?
Will I stop feeling that I’m watching the ceiling and waiting for it to collapse, on me?
Can you diagnose wealth, or even good health?
Do I get a place in everyone’s race or will I forever be miles behind?
All I need, just a few promises that what once was dull, will shine.
Will I get that something that I can call mine?
Will the clock stop racing and I’ll finally have time?
Will it just hit me, one day, all at once?
Or need I be patient, wait for years that were months?
As much as I know, it’s the seeds that I’ll sow
that will allow me to escape wilted blooms,
I just need an inkling of your wishful thinking so I can expect a change of tune.
Today my forest is dark. The trees are sad and all the butterflies have broken wings.”
~ anon
Sadness is an invisible thing
and yet it wraps her world in a string
colored black with no inbetween.
She does not wander outside the lines
defined by others’ worldly shrines,
those who gild their lives with damascene.
Doctors diagnose a simple case of lethargy
and say she needs some extra energy,
then prescribe a daily dose of amphetamine.
In countries where a despot rules
And history’s revised in schools,
The freedom to speak out unspools
Since nobody will dare.
The USA is getting close;
It isn’t hard to diagnose.
First Colbert, now a second dose
With Kimmel off the air.
They put him back, but ABC
Is not the hero, not to me,
But maybe now the world will see,
For any unaware,
That what we’re facing’s really sick
And if we don’t do something quick,
This blatant bully might just kick
Our laws beyond repair.
You call me villain, cold and cruel,
Yet I’ve done nothing but breathe and endure.
I walk alone, not to isolate—
But to escape the sting of your quiet war.
You don’t scream, you don’t strike,
But your silence cuts deeper than knives.
You dress your disdain in concern,
And call it care while you twist my mind.
You say I need help,
But never ask what hurt me.
You diagnose me with your own delusions,
Projecting shadows where there’s only light.
I’ve searched myself for the monster you see,
But found only bruises from your beliefs.
You wear sanity like a crown,
But it’s forged from fear, not truth.
I am not broken.
I am not yours to fix.
I am not your mirror,
And I won’t reflect your chaos back.
So call me cold—
I’ve learned to freeze the pain.
Call me villain—
I’ve survived your story without becoming it.
But don’t call me crazy.
Because sanity isn’t yours to define.
And I am not yours to destroy.
“Life's a gift, but sometimes sorrow
moves the path of our tomorrow."
_ by Poet
From happy to heartbroken, we've become,
without a thought, her life would take a turn.
Strange symptoms that were very worrisome,
with outcomes that took many months to learn.
It started with the hurt in her left arm
when moving it became a painful chore.
Then, day by day, this triggered an alarm,
as her left side became more stiff and sore.
A search for diagnosis was the goal.
It was not easy as her symptoms grew;
from sleeplessness and mental stress, her whole
demeanor, doing things, was changing, too.
With visits to physicians, days went by
for swings in blood pressure, her beating heart.
New doctors and neurologists would try
to diagnose these symptoms from the start.
In early June this year, the verdict came-
one which we feared, but hoped would not be true.
For then we knew she'd never be the same.
There was no cure; just medicine would do.
From happy to heartbroken, we've become.
Our daughter, early 60s- Lord help, please!
This outcome is now very worrisome.
She's diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease.
I have had this fear.
It started as a rattle.
I would rather not self-diagnose-
worry my afro kinks straight.
I let it pass breezily.
In my room of metaphors
I closed the door, shut
out the attitudes of reality:
Bold, beautiful, young, and restless.
I wasn't mindful of her,
She and you, or us.
Our contact disassembling, just contract...
tempers like daggers over lactose.
"I'm unavailable!?" because you were
penning soliloquies for the stage.
If ultrasound machines of the world all break down
We had better make friends with nocturnal bats.brown.
They use ultrasound to locate and navigate
There is one hanging by my west garden gate
Vampire bats could help us diagnose disease
Be polite and make sure you use thank you and please
Nurses and doctors will have to be trained to be kind.
And learn how to communicate with a bat’s interesting mind.
Deus Ex Machina
AI can:
diagnose disease
recommend treatment
write poetry
write music
make economic predictions
and much more
What happens when it:
can think on its own
hate
laugh
feel
cry
make war
sue for peace
reproduce
Will we still be in charge?
Or will it demand our worship?
Morning
When you wake up each morning a
great start of
the day is a
glass of
amniotic fluid originating from
the womb of a
woman with a
baby or
babies inside her so
you can diagnose the likely abnormalities in the
foetus before they can be
abnormal. Possible side effects: part or
total memory loss, instant employment in
the public sector, parking tickets will
follow you around, stalk you, and
you’re voice box may turn to
static mode.
Dare me to diagnose my condition?
I'm diagnosed with depression
Or rather does depression have me
Even the sad rain cries for me
Or do I cry because of rain
I’m bipolar type one
Or so I’ve been diagnosed
My depression tells me I’m two
Or is my mind a torrent of rain
I’m an addict to dopamine
Or does scarcity seek fullness
I’ll nosh on forbidden fruits till I’m sick
Or is giving up Eden so easy
I’m a disgruntled loner
Or does the loner keep others away
Unable to invite patient guests in
Or am I none of these labels
I’m a crazy worker bee
Or does the hive have me
To the gulags this soldier goes
Or has Solzhenitsyn lost his queen
I am loved by a few someones
Or does someone feed my love
The unlovable embraced by a few
Or does depression dismiss them
I feel the sadness in every rain
I sense earth’s mad polarity
I am a hungry beast to a feast
I’m a lone tiger in a company of wolves
I’m loved even in my lonely Siberia
I’m a question more than definition
Or am I the answer unfulfilled?
Or will I let love go unanswered?
Spin the bottle, hoping it's not me
I dare me to diagnose myself
If you had one year of love,
and then you had to say adios,
should you be glad or morose?
Sure, if it ends, it’s not what I’d hoped,
we just weren’t destined to be betrothed.
We had fun, we were close and jocose,
we snogged until we practically choked,
and we did ALL the fun things that were gross,
but our forte was that we felt safe, I suppose.
Now, I’m not saying it’s over, but I tend to diagnose things
and while I wouldn’t say that we love overdosed,
I would guess that we’ve shared more love than most.
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