888.
10 Meron si Jose Radin 8:
Expertise as a Historian
Si Jose Radin ay may "Expertise as a Historian"
Sa loob at labas ng paaralan
History Quiz Bee Champion
History QB Coach ng mga ganon
Historical Poetry Champion sa Tertiary
History Major sa UP
Historical Fantasy Novel Author
Historical Treatise Translator
Historical Narrative Interpreter
Salamat sa Dios ako'y naging History Teacher.
-10/08/2025
(Dumarao)
*10 Meron si Jose Radin
848.
My Life Path #8: My School Life
In Carmecita, I had my Preparatory
In SFACS & DCS, I had my Elementary
In OLSI, I had my Secondary
In UP, I had my Tertiary
In 2010, I was a teacher in Fermat Academy
In 2010-2016, I was a teacher in Capiz State University
In 2019-2020, I was a teacher in OLSI
In 2022, I was a teacher in Assumption School-Passi City.
-04/08/2022
(Dumarao)
*Black Saturday
Spacemeat. The light cone enfolds the individual effectually creating a ghost through geometric topology. The negative of the person, the "ghost" is a result of the lensing of the original person's light cone interacting with a tertiary lightcone that predicates it's future on the subsequent intermingling of the light cones. The result is essentially apodictic insofar as the consequential nature of the topological result is the determinant by which the conclusion from the incipient portion of the status aforementioned is solidified. Spacemeat.
Battle axe (For the 2nd Half) ... "At last!"
Way too fast past the rescue rascal hassling haphazardly mastered dastardly bastards' fractions of captioning cast iron spiraling wired wax on wax off golf cart Bart Simpson minced garlic cubes boob tube huge goober schooner dooms Days Taser taker wafer run stun gun NOT funny honey bun for one shunned lonesome wholesome quotient potion grunt of a stunt punt the ball into mid autumn leaves fall raking reiki draped date maker place mat patty whack hacky sack crap slapped happy tap dance romance slanted jambalaya riot spliced mice diet quiet cheese, please teases on both knees bereavement easing Fort Leavenworth girth that brings birth to twerk twerps slurred slurping squirts of hurting beef Jerky lurching around the church yard disbarred and charred crash cars 100 yards too far to see scars Mars rover Range Rover Red rover come over 4 leaf clover lawn mower seed Sower leaf blower as NOT just another voter devotional spokesperson swerving tertiary but too scary hairy fairy blue berry merry go round sage turns the page safe and sound clown town brown bag the sandwich fad dude and all of that...
I was young, bright full of promise, full of light.
High school passed in a blur,
a victory too soon, too fast.
They cheered, they clapped,
Mom wept with pride,
but I barely had time to feel it.
Then the world changed.
Tertiary welcomed me,
but fate had other plans.
A silent storm stole my path,
cutting dreams before they could bloom.
I searched, I fought, I worked,
but each day felt the same.
The hours passed, yet I remained stuck.
Now, I drift through life,
a ghost in my own skin.
The child who once raced ahead,
now stumbles through the past.
And all I have are words not answers, not peace,
just echoes of a question that whispers through the silence:
Where did I go wrong?
In tertiary times, when two continents adrift
Titanically collided to tectonically uplift
The gasping ocean floor
Resurrected up once more
Left the water for the land;
Five miles high it made its stand.
And to these youthful mountains (that is as mountains go)
The monsoon clouds paid homage as they gathered far below
They strongly spouted fury and made the foothills wet
But the scornful Himalayas dried the plateau of Tibet
And then the disbelievers from the atheistic West
Where time is not a circle and there is no Ever-rest
Defiled up the silent crags
At the peak they planted flags
You, Himalaya, tried to hide those flags with snow
But...
We know.
Bruno enrolls in the tertiary
For a full program in Fishery.
Dad had judged his first course treachery
Or Bruno risking self trickery...
In their lusty town much revelry,
In which fish faces not rivalry:
Fish more than meat touched by cutlery,
Sometimes costing more than Jewelry!
So, Bruno vows "In the tertiary
It'll be none other than Fishery.
Thrice, Fishers charged at by cavalry,
Not by the knights of sworn chivalry;
Rather by The Dead to ribaldry:
The fish-starved in Haberdashery.
The road is thick
You can't move through, that quick
Sometimes making you feel sick
Or you were cursed maybe think
Indeed, life is full of ink
Today I stand here before you
From tiredness I can say, phew!
I have achived something new
Graduation over me who knew?
Something I wished as I grew
I have to smile for myself
As hard work brought success on my shelf
Building and civil engineering see yourself
For you I come my dream from twelve
I am happy for myself
I have sailed from primary with a D grade
Thought I will loss it but prayed
Junior school made some of the upgrade
A strong C grade really paid
Woke from my resting shade
Came my senior with 35 clean points
The hard work and prayer never disappoints
My tertiary is here I rejoice
It wasn't my choice
Thanks to all who raised their voice
by Josepoet
#classicpoems
dear mother,
your nurturing is so warm that my DNA denatures because of it,
but at the same time your neutral appearance reseals it.
my bonding to you is like protein structure it takes step to become strong,
like primary, secondary ,tertiary and quaternary structure.
whenever i see you mom, my pitutary start releasing oxytocin,
that gives a positive feedback to my brain.
you are the 3 line of defence of my body,
simply you are oxygen of my life,
as without you cellular respiration and vital organs will not work.
Black velvet painted by nature,
emboldened primaries of
red, yellow, blue,
melding into
secondary chromatic sensations
that, echo tertiary waves.
I flung my soul upon the canvas,
oozed my essence among the blends
and empowered singing paints
to release their rhythms;
expel their agonies and I
left them speaking in
tri-tones, quad-tones
raging vibrancy;
psychedelic amalgamation.
Even Nature vents,
releases her crystalline tears and
robustuous laughter upon this realm;
a wise old sage among celestial bodies;
her passions bleed upon our lives
and we drink, become one
with the soul of Gaia;
our heart songs pouring ecstasy,
right back into hers.
4-26-2021
ALL YOURS (Apr 26) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
We have graduated from many prestigious tertiary institutions,
With flying colors,
Competent and resourceful,
But we are roaming around the streets, homeless, penniless and jobless.
We have been trained,
Under the scorching sun and in the rain,
In skill acquisition
And entrepreneurship development (SAED),
But we are neglected, so we resort to crimes,
And daily marched toward the docks.
We have studied the Constitution and Civic Education,
Equipped ourselves daily
With the articles of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights,
Found out that we are the leaders of tomorrow,
A lie as old as time itself.
Since we have tasted poverty and dormancy,
And can't even say when they will stop politicking with our future,
It's high time we make up our minds,
To changelessly be or not to be,
Perpetual hungry applicants or educated and hopeless scholars.
If we are to discover what is out there
we must board the Holy Ghost,
cleave the winds of time
into gods and tridents,
count the star clusters within us.
Under seeking skulls: those white domes,
antique tripods brace themselves,
their quaint brass fittings
helping us to adjust
to the future.
Some seekers turn a grooved infinity sprocket,
some paint cave paintings on the arching
bones of craniums.
Spirit (that invisible violin),
is the prime element
in these spiritual machines,
some of which gaze into darkness,
some that can push behind the past
into a freely radical moment
unmolested by thought.
The secondary element
is the whistling tinker man
or any god we choose to name.
The tertiary element
is the rattle of his pots and kettles
upon his moving caravan.
We hear those tympanic chords,
then like hermit crabs
we leave our shells
and burst out into travelling music.
I can't imagine the cry ranged from my eyes
Sweeping the floor like a flood.
This non can imagine to be our lot.
Despite all hands on deck for success to make
Non can tell of how fate has thus loots us
Adiye nlagun, iyere nikoje
Can our days at tertiary be a waste?
No, I mean never.
Yet we celebrate the warming ass years after graduation
But their sons a greater hope is laid
While we at this end our strength put them in power
Four years come and gone
Our yoke daily compounds upon our glutton.
That that which laid in us as of the Greek.
We dare not enforce
Gbogbo wa tije dodo akole sododo
This thousand generations will benefit
Less their eyes and consciousness are brought back
No place of refuge to hope in our God
For in all our yoke do compound in their sermons and acts.
Our gracious God we pray you to restore us
As that of the Samaria.
© Olorunleke olorode
My palette bleeds in colors
of vibrant energy, electrifying
the senses.
Heavenly blues
that are married to
psychedelic pinwheels.
a kaleidoscope is birthed
on a canvas sea.
Explosion of cosmic hues
in solstice dance.
Tertiary overtones
bleed into
pastel undertones,
searching my imagination
for new stories to tell;
a mandala of enlightenment.
Cried loud all "innovate or perish" all around the World
Why not the education which gives the greatest mould
Primary , Secondary and Tertiary are the steps to consume our life
This system is age old not have any logic with the time rife
Mature are the minds today before their age
Then why You Educationist let their brain waste over page
Think twice and RETHINK, REKINDLE the Hope
Education is stepping stone not a joke
Let the death-knell takes its toll on the past
Rest assured, Children will fly high without a mast
So restructure, redesign redefine the system
That makes the life , CARPE DIEM!!!
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