Stumbling through the language of the city,
I walked today
through the middle of a battlefield.
Blood.
Death.
Destruction.
And yet, tomorrow
will bring another new beginning.
A brooding, reverberating,
suffocating silence.
A shattered, broken world.
I plunge my hands into the earth
and paint a picture of revolution.
After a long life in exile,
I return to the village
and find how much
the homes and settlements have changed.
The traces of my childhood
are no longer there.
My eyes fill with tears.
Scattered, rough-edged pebbles,
broken branches of trees,
fragments of shells.
And yet, carrying all their mysteries
and adventures,
they return to me,
again and again.
wipe themselves
the tears in my eyes away.
For so long,
I have told the next generation
so many lies.
Now I have folded myself inward,
away from my own self.
Gender dysphoria,
distress, puberty blockers,
the search for gender identity,
hormone therapy.
Gender transition
continues to unfold
by individual choice.
Boys become girls,
girls become boys.
And even that
gives some people
a headache.
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Targeting specific behaviors diets are targeted to certain types and admissions. A larger person is asked to reduce portion size and calorie intake.Expending energy: The scientific term for using the food you eat as fuel.Exerting physical effort: Best for describing workouts or high-intensity tasks.
Increasing physical activity. While a thinner person may be asked to evoked a calorie surplus meaning use less energy to maintain weight or gain healthier weight like in muscle gain.Body recomposition, meaning losing fat and gaining muscle. Balance your macros with nutrient-dense carbs for workout energy and healthy fats for hormone regulation
-------------Agamemnon-at Aulis------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------By:Epicurus C-----------------------------------------------------------------------"I owe her nothing as she is seen now as vile!" Written by: Epicurus Citium--------------------
Nine months have quickly passed since the mind
was provoked to write many lines of rhyme
Does this stimulation arise from some type of hormone?
is there some thought arousing release of an enzyme?
Most it comes from memories
go back to when one was a child
A few from visualisation
just let thought patterns run wild
There is gratitude for hardships
that shape the growing soul
Sometimes a base for humour
that forms a playful role
One day upon a Zen Chai massager
body"s rockin to and fro
Seems Im back upon a steam train
stimulates poetic flow
Take pride that my daily way of living
has deviated from the norm
Poetry is a platform to support others
fulfils a desire to inform
MY CANCER JOURNEY
(so far)
Cancer comes and disappears
2 years pass, it reappears
More tests done confirm our fears
Cancer raised it's ugly head
A diagnosis we truly dread
Hormone therapy and radiation
Hopefully aimed at right location
Many trips to Allen Blair
3 more years and all seems fair
Then rising PSA we dread
Cancer raised it's ugly head
More appointments and more tests
Seems this cancer never rests
Cancer now has spread to bones
Drugs and therapy we hope postpones
The spread of this ugly plight
I don't have time, hold the phone
More shots to delete testosterone
And now I'm on abiraterone
And also add in prednisone
And what comes next remains unknown
My life is in God's hands, I pray
Regardless what oncologists say
I am so thankful for this day
I pray that God will let me stay
On earth for a bit more time
(I kinda like it here)
AMEN
At the supermarket, squeeze this,
sniff that. Of course, color is the
first attraction: Fruit should not
be green -- vegetables must be!
So, green is not always best.
Children, take note! (Her daughter,
Little Genie, as ordered, wrote)
And if the same price for
one, choose the largest and weigh...
but scales sometimes are purposely
light, seldom right. (Genie again
wrote) Now let's do this again: I said
vegetables should be green...though
carrots better orange-yellow. Then there
are eggplants, they must be deep
purple. Oh, and the beets should
be nice, round, earthy red. Sweet candy,
gumballs, hot-dogs, highly processed
foods, hormone chicken and beef,
barbecue with artificial flavoring
should be avoided like the class
bully. (Genie wrote, if it taste good
it is probably bad for you) Read labels
on cans: Mono-this, Chlor-what's it,
if you can't say it, never plate it. Make
a list of these chemicals. Genie
used all the reminding pages in her pad.
(ended with, in the future, only go
shopping with dad)
(“The Longest Journey”, 2020, original encaustic)
Along For The Ride
The older I get the less I seem to know
Or even care
And the more I feel a somewhat detached
Observer.
I’m okay with this
Simply because there is no alternative
Although I’m sure a doctor could give me
Some drug or hormone to change my view.
And being okay with it,
Not resisting or striving for something else,
Allows me to see it all
More clearly.
And to appreciate
That my good old apparitional
Body/mind knows what to do,
And that it is still fun to go along for the ride.
(7/22/25)
#Poetic_meal
Dining with words, its my daily enticing meal, the scrumptious juicy sauces, dripping all over my fingers, leaving me with much appetite to dip deeper, my fork and knife into this meal of creativity...
Could hear my intestine, groaning of ravenous intake, fueling my hands of vocabulary to dedicate much effort into this meal of mental nourishment...
My artistic arteries, chanting of thirst and I aiming higher than a mere quench, dilating much spaciousness, for the serving being way beyond just drinking and swallowing nor gnawing but influxing of varieties and intergration of creativity, some artistic manner of dining...
Shedding some radiant and illumination to ones psychological interest of art, beyond just seven colours of paints and brush sizes, painting a masterpiece of centuries of inspired poetic hormone, with my flooding poetic ink expressions. I am Poetic_Ink
#Poetic_Ink
happy hormone
it’s home grown dear
dethrone ego
By 12
By 12 I was
fully grown. My height was
the envy of
the short arses in
my classes. I wasn’t a
porker like
some ... I was
spared fat jokes. My level of
pituitary activity was, well,
excellent. Hormone increases were
too. Ejaculated more than
most. My secondary sex characteristics gave me
some respect. I was the first in
my class to
break their
voice. My thin mo caused awe in
the hairless. Deductive reasoning was
special. My systematic problem finding the answers to
things had triple the
different possibilities thought about, mulled, prior to
the answers being chosen. I was the king of
abstract thoughts, and that
riddled others with
confusion and
anger. It was easier for me to
manipulate abstract concepts than
concrete ones. Hours on
end I’d get lost in
idealistic contemplation of
hypotheticals until I was
clapped out
of it. I spent a lot of
time lost in
identity formation. I soaked in
everything. Long-term memory
ached. I praised daily the
elaboration added to
encoding strategies. I avoided happily interactions with
most. Opposite-peers I avoided
happily. I was
undateable.
We'd go camping away from city lights,
two best friends, on the cutting edge of wow.
And gaze at the stars on warm summer nights,
connecting with the universe, somehow.
The world was our oyster, we'd shuck for pearls,
leaving our fortunes in the hands of fate.
But when we started hanging around girls,
our friendship slowly began to abate.
We drifted apart and said our goodbyes,
but that was then: this is now, and we've changed.
We're no longer those hormone-driven guys:
I'm sorry that our friendship got short-changed.
I'd like to start over again, my friend:
let's not let our forever friendship end.
Flashing neon sign danger.
The typical teenager.
And this son wouldn't listen.
Total hormone affliction.
He weed-whacked the old man.
Red welts but no stitches.
So, I had to open a can.
Changed his whole Disposition.
movement of the word "world"
a center of religion
I am its goddess, a goddess of redemption
peering over my soul bounty I see
what appears to be a pillar of Souls all
wrapped up into a spider web
I see many things In quiet resolution
I write them down
I have never known a man nor woman alive
that could perserverer me without being in reknown
my "cibil liberties" are to debate myself
to antagonize growth hormone, and flower
Like a rose petal, I see you through to the end
but like the goddess of forever, I am only a vixen-- a man, yet a woman
incarnate.
I have almost absolved myself from
causing all that emotional mayhem
that a youthful spirit engages upon
not having yet acclimatized itself at all.
Was it my fault if all those
hormone-ridden relationships,
all those peers of mine
that bought only a fake copy of me,
an unedited work in progress
now look back in anger?
Now of course I am acclimatized
to my personal environment,
acclimatized and stabilized
in that cramped, now and again
state of imperfection
most of us aim for.
Nevertheless:-
caveat emptor.
These days William Shakespeare’s “to be or not to be”
Isn’t the question, but a false dichotomy.
Now to be a woman and not to be a man
Is no longer integral to god’s perceived plan.
A nip and a tuck then some hormone therapy
Soon transforms into “they” what was born “he”
or “she”.
In modern times it’s true all the world is a stage,
And gender fluidity is now all the rage.
January 8, 2023
Making it known in the twilight zone,
an unknown, error-prone player reached a milestone
using follicle stimulating hormone
to produce a phytohormone clone of Alicia Silvestone
honed from a fully grown breastbone and stray histones.
Above the wind blown ozone- a moss-grown millstone
the well known capstone of a milestone not foreknown.
Better known was Paula Poundstone
for taking growth hormone when fully grown
who could hold her own against the overblown overtone-
of reggaeton,
to win a starring role in Philosopher’s Stone,
You may think this poem is overblown
An alphabet kaliedophone.
A mining of words that are super unknown
And bemoan its pretentious overtone.
A poem that’s nothing but shadow and stone
Contrived to tickle your funny bone.
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