Long Shortness of breath Poems
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TO BE OR NOT TO BE VACCINATED
Two years of pandemic and there is still no end in sight.
Almost a year since vaccines became available and only
sixty percent in the United States are fully vaccinated,
where there is ample supply; but turned down by some.
Some say, it’s a right, a human right to turn it down; yet
it seems it is more of a political reason or religious belief.
Whatever side you are on, please respect the other side
instead of dissing, criticizing and depending your side.
I am fully vaccinated because I had seen what this deadly
virus can do, when it hit twenty family members from
mid-December last year to early January this year with
two deaths from the five hospitalized, devastating, scary.
Now, it hit my own family, breaking my heart how this
contagion severely hit my son, seeing him struggle with
shortness of breath, could hardly move even with the
oxygen and me, when I am vaccinated with the booster.
All year round, the vaccination has been politicized helping
to widen the gap between the two parties and the people.
The ones opposing even believing conspiracy and violation
of their right behind the government’s mandates for vaccination.
I am for vaccination; but I do not believe in mandating the
vaccination to health care providers for they know how vicious,
contagious this pandemic is; yet they choose to help the ones
stricken with this virus whether they are vaccinated or not.
I know some healthcare providers who are opposed to
vaccination risking their own lives doing their job, their duties.
The mandate would not let these people work and would
create a shortage in providing care for the victims of this virus.
I also understand why the government is mandating the
vaccination for it is one way to combat this pandemic for
it is a primary concern for the country to function, as well
as its people’s welfare, so let us try to keep an open mind.
12/13/21 Sweet Lady Jane
internet doctor
these are my symptoms
This is everything wrong with me
a list of complaints i have noticed
hoping there is something i can do
to bring back my health
and hopefully pull through
Lists of complaints
everything i can think of wrong with me
from my backpain and insomnia
to the shortness of breath
the throbbing in my right testicle
Stress isn't the proper word
but it does go along with my depression
constantly itchy
loss of interest in everything
nauseas from time to time
Nervous breakdown maybe
five months ago
now spiritually impoverished
feeling like i can't take anymore
however the voice in my head tells me i'm gonna be fine
hyperventalating out of boredome
the constant obsession of trying to make sense
out of the confusion
Internet doctor
i'm sure there must be one
a list of physical ailments
just don't take this on unless your ready to realise
i have everything wrong
Herpes New year
Mental health Industry
dirty blood on the wall of a crime scene
medicated to slow down my OCD thinking
Testicular pain
the depression coming back
guilt feelings and regret for a life of being wrong
hard on myself for everything
driven to drink
and wanting to self medicate
dual diagnosis would be a blessing to me
and i would't be able to function on all the different prescriptions
you try to prescribe me
pills for stress
pills for my blood
pills for my heart
pills for my thoughts
pills for the rash
pills for my moods
and now i have testicular pain living in a town with dirty water
they say its not the water doctor
but before you cut my junk off
can i ask you a question
do you think it was the pills?
I dont see the point anymore
suffering is soo much better
im sure eventually you will sell me suicide
to make yourselves feel better
Brass balls & eyes with a sliver of sin
Hence, where do I even bother to begin?
In fragmentation out on its desolate isle
We will know all the more in a great while
In sesation we get desperate & loneliness sets in
Enflamed by passion from within
Marked on its blotted page yet clearly intact
Working too hard can give anyone a heart attack
Today I want to soar to a place that is much better then before
Some our eager to contemplate history
The final line embraced in eager desire
Through a barrage of misrepresentation
Yet still today I long to soar to a place
That is much better then before
To embrace the inner swell of pain
While the entire world outside is totally insane
Through a closed window
Yet for the moment only one can speculate
Through the closed window one can barely see
A very vibrant yet different way of a reality
In swift decisions that must be made
In a painful thrust & shortness of breath
Most only tap into a very small portion of brain
Through a closed window one can barely see
In some sorted variation in a dream
We then wander aimlessly as in some nomadic tribesmen
In desperation flirting with fire in the brain
In pillaged torn rhetoric decorum
Through a closed window
One can claim an inner sense of hidden solitude
We are all in the same cage here
Why do the guilty go free?
Why do the heathen rage?
Why does the sun still shine?
As painted faces lost in time
Were all in the same cage here?
It's just I want to know
How a most beautiful flower does grow
Through its frolic ambiance to unfold
In heights of soaring tears in sight
Still the river still flows out in some peaceful sway
Within tempers on fire yet still some ardent desire
A pilgrims process one can claim
It is so good to know that I'm still in the game!
Dying Is Horrifying
Has been sad to me;
Dying is horrifying;
Will never forget.
My wife Jill is in intensive care right now
under sedation. Sunday morning she had
shortness of breath. An aide car came out
and gave her oxygen and she started to
get better. They said to take her to the
Emergency Room at Novant Hospital in
Bolivia, NC. She was admitted to stay
overnight for a check up. The next day
in the morning she received a call from
Stephanie Lynott then was visited by
the Jones's who had dropped by. She
received an email on her cell phone
of the choir singing Sunday on January
27, 2019 at St. James Episcopal. At
around noon yesterday she had more
severe breathing problems. They had
diagnosed her as having Pneumonia
and fluid on the lungs. The put her
on a ventilator but that did not solve
the problem. She is now in ICU and
they have put a trachea in her throat
and inserted some other things in her
throat. Needless to say, I am scared
as hell and have been crying and
really upset. She is under sedation
right now and won't be coming out
of it until about eight am. I cried
myself to sleep at around nine last
night. I awoke at midnight thinking
that I was hearing Jill calling me.
Shawn just had his 50th Birthday
on January 24th. I am afraid to call
him. I am driving over at eight AM
to see her again. She is supposed
to start coming out of it by then
and I should be able to talk to her
hopefully. This is the latest and will
keep you updated. Dr. Doran is
her doctor. There is a Doran Garage
in Shallotte, NC but she is not related
and is here from New York State.
I still am afraid to call Shawn.
Love,
Jim Horn
The water, it takes me off of my chosen path
A place from where many men have never come back
The water, it’s rising now and I must not think twice
To leave what is material to save my own life
I cling to the vessel, which brought me here, tightly
To save what is left of myself and my psyche
My grip it does weaken as reality sets in
This might be the last time on Earth that I spend
All that has happened, or would have contrarily
Will be no longer if this fate it does bury me
Shortness of breath as the water creeps in
Debris hits my body, and hastens my end
Holding on to life with the strength that remains
Finding new ways to experience pain
I look to the past and I think of the future
The present is my captor, my love, my abuser
These moments are fleeting yet they are all that do matter
My mind it is tired, and my body it is tattered
I choose to let go and let the current decide
Whether I will live or whether I will die
I go towards my savior, the unmoving earth
To rest on the bosom that’s given me birth
The water does release me as I lie there ashore
To find that my former, is no longer, no more
Perspective is golden as it comes by so seldom
When people do ask, that is what I do tell them
Life cannot be loved until death is so certain
As an act can not be appreciated until after the curtain
To live like you’re dying is more than a suggestion
To do anything other is to deny, without question
Our fate is decided the moment that we are born
We decide how we reach it and how others will mourn
Take nothing for granted and appreciate time given
It’s not how much you have, it’s how you choose to spend it
The forgotten one, the lonely one
fate has raised a knife against me
The broken one, the chosen one
I've been chosen to take part in the stars masquerade
to indulge in being a puppet product of a star-crossed love
with the seed of my family's enemy; just not an enemy of mine
I've often wondered what gave my parents the right to judge love
Are they even in love themselves, in happiness
or is it a facade, a curtain they hang over me to hide the truth
Nevertheless, caring fails me
I've seen and kissed love's perfect face
danced with the darkness in their eyes
but it seems like the world wants to tear us apart
Apologies, it's not the world tearing this poem apart
only me, the writer, I cannot idolize one last time
the viewpoint of Shakespeare's characters
They were his to pave the way for death
not mine to intervene and keep them immortal
Death is an invincible protocol
but I felt their love was meant to survive
Death...I question if the presence of the reaper
is the cause of my shortness of breath
reawakened panic disorder
or was meant to launch a grenade
to dissipate any happiness flowing in like a storm in my direction
Whatever the issue, I loathe the feeling tremendously
the sick emptiness radiating in the pit of my stomach
pain resignating below the ribs
a weak, throbbing headache
Little things cause my calm seas to transform in typhoons
the 'failure', is it what I've become
I had hoped to overcome this; guess it's here to stay
if there's a remedy for this, let me know
I feel distantly combative, hostile, indifferent
and I don't know, a reoccurring cycle
I don't know
At three years old;
we freely hid from tree to tree,
and sneaked through under table to
table,
with snow smiles, filled with smells of
present, and a rainbow heart of
innocence, blinded with mountains of
curiosity and fountains of supreme
surprises.
Clowning and crowning was fully
allowed.
But frowning and crying was full
suppressed and disallowed.
Dreams were monochrome,
while responsibility was asleep.
Ambition was a joke,
while play was a gift of shift without
a fight.
Eze went to school with thorn school
uniform, without a pen, book and
school sandals, but still graduated
with flying laughter.
Tortoise could not trick the snail,
because they both live in a shell.
But it tricked the lion, by drowning
into its shell.
Kisses were meaningless, but still
served has the eyes of salvation.
While wildness was sweetness.
Danger was headless,
while envy had shortness of breath.
Ada and Obi's affectionate touches;
never stole away virginity.
Sooner they departed into growth
and found themselves in the paths of
modernization.
And Ada could no longer tell; if Obi is
still a boy. Because her trust has
rusted,
and she wonders, why did their eyes
met again in the rainbow lane of
maturity?
But she can't doubt God, the
Almighty master designer of
affection.
Because he has immortalized the
future,
and has wisely joined Obi and Ada
solely together, till eternity sleeps.
-Oloidi, Oluwafemi
*keep winning!*
A Quiet Place
A quiet place
Where I knew not pain
Where innocence reign
Lost in a field of flowers
Chasing butterflies
Blowing bubbles
Collecting rocks
Waiting for you
Staring through the peep hole
Hand on the knob
Glued to the door
Can’t look away
No matter how long I wait
The doorbell won’t ring
The Keyes won’t sound
On the other side
You’re no where to be found
Tears crawl down my eyes
Heavy and warm
You’re gone but have never left
You don’t see me
But I’m upset
Standing here waiting
Until my feet fail
And I fall to my knees
Empty, with shortness of breath
You didn’t turn around
To see me wave goodbye
Need a place to hide
An escape
So I go run wild into the woods
Screaming at the top of my lungs
‘til I hear an echo
Reassuring I’m not alone
Howling with the wolves
Collecting leaves
Making a bed to lay my head
The big moon watches over me
As the day fails
I harvest sunflowers
To raise my spirit
To stir my soul
Can’t find my way
Left with no place to go
Estranged
Broken winged
Wind cut through grass
Slits against the rind
A citric burst fill the air
Orange zest in between my fingers
Sweet oil adorn the palm of my hand
Bleeding for love to remedy the pain
Your reflection is starting back at me
Your eyes, your cheeks
Plump, and sleepy
A jar of fireflies light up the night
On days like this
I forgive and swallow my pride
Marckincia Jean
Free verse
01/16/20
We have come too far to ever give up now
A Change in society through the tears of a clown
A sullen gasp pronounced toward fear
A vile indication of stregnth drawn near
A sequential pull vexed after the fall
In shortness of breath through shoulder to cry
We negate trivial pursuit over what's moral turned to mundane
Something in our twisted hearts leaves feeling insane;
A pull at the heart to light its inner spark.
Through want in need we reflect then bark
In midnight oil burning in heightened desolation
A moth vamp in sullen approach to handle
Mark the man who is willing to explore
No page unturned while sleeping with a whore
What does God have in mind nor what is in store?
Borrowed tombstones slime in shapes of stone
Far from the chosen fields left out to roam
A patient man will relax then turn to wine
What will be a sure fire way toward a design
No shoulder to cry a summoned pop fly in the eye
In the horizon an old Indian bows his head for prayer;
Wasted again from the influx of damning societal threats he's now saddened
The guns he sheltered through desolation & harm
May sound the alarm in closet swing exploits to charm,
In delicate flowers lining ordinances approached
Through hidden laughter a sharp pain in bedded disaster
Never ready to prepare for the great here after
In a montage of gifts getting squished from fragmented thoughts of imaginative thought
A soul that was once purchased can never be bought!
"Descendent of Eve"
by: Eric L. Boddie
As she walked through the door, I recall a shortness of breath
My heartbeat fluttered, my palms moistened, my mind drew a blank, but no pain was felt
My mouth became dry, and my eyes and ears became lost in her motion
And with only a glance, the sway of her hips became the muse for my every notion
After closer examination, sweat, in the form of a single drip
Made its way down my forehead as the glass approached her lips
Then, the rumbling of my stomach, the butterflies were on the move
Because my eyes had never touched legs that appeared to be oh so smooth
I wanted to get up, but I could hear the buckling of my knees
And the unmentionable, it was like what happens to water if you let it freeze
Now that was many years ago, but like yesterday is what it seems
Because ever since that moment, she has been featured in all of my dreams
To her sight, I have become addicted, that's the strongest word I can think of
For me, it only took a glance, and I, instantly, fell in Love
I Love her hair, I Love her toes, don't get me started on the things in between
She is God's Greatest Creation, next to Him, her being reigns supreme
And now that I'm a man, on her curves, I am still dependent
That's the only way I can explain my jealousy of the infant
Addiction, desire, infatuation or lust, you can call it whatever you believe
But I would go crazy without her, I'm in Love with the descendent of Eve