Last Commented Health Poems (230)

Old age creeps upon my face
Skin now wrinkles
Gone my youth
The smooth gone now wrinkled part of me
Pain in my heart pain in my sole
From my life's toil
My heart ache
From pain older wiser I am now
But still think if my youth gone lost but not forgotten my youth

are the skies blue do the birds chirp
is this life true or did I go berserk
have I lost my mind is everything fine
am I ahead or am I behind
I cannot see straight what happened to my eyes
did I sleep late is everything a lie
what is the truth what can it be
what is the truth I can't quite see
did everything change right before my eyes
is this the truth or just some more lies

In the suspension of consciousness
Exits the 3rd stage.
In the midst of a lessen sense of awareness
Next phase is me, my presence is intense,
As I grasps my one member audience on the center stage.

Scientists have given me the name REM.
"Rapid eye movement."
I'm where dreams commence.
The mind pens stories on the endless reems of parchment .

The brain is very active under my reign.
With an electroencephalograph one can bare witness to the cerebrum maestro's composition

I'm known as active or paradoxical sleep
Whether it be for minutes or hours you'll be submerged in the deep.
In that moment you're a prisoner, mines to keep.

If I am the ‘me’
that decides what I see
and thus am an ‘I’ not a ‘we’
why do I hear so many ‘I’s
proclaiming themselves to be ‘we’?

i.e.,
“we are all equal
we must be free
we should be saving
the world…”

I don’t recall
my consent to agree
that the ‘I’ known as ‘me’
be sandwiched between
their ‘I’ and my ‘me’

The ‘me’ that I own
is my own by decree
As my true wannabee
I inhabit quite free
my own nutty tree!

He is his usual talkative self today.
I can hear him from blocks away.
He is first, he is the loudest
In the midst of where the crowd is.
Like any cult leader
To many true believers
He is God in the flesh
No a demagogue at best.
In front mics and megaphone
His drum beats like a metronome,
Spinning tales taller
Than drunken men in parlours.
He talks socialism and "wokeness"
To the forgotten and the hopeless,
Inflaming passions
With whatever he imagines.
He is a traveling merchant
Of the reality alternate.
When truth is inconvenient
There can be no agreement.
Whose gonna save his soul?
He's broken hes never been whole.
He is a bottomless pit.
He was always "Unfit"
And a burning place below is beckoning
One day soon there'll be a reckoning!
WBJS 6/2/22

Say Hi and Say Hello everybody its means am still alive

Your speaking to the only (?) person on the planet that had fun having a stroke. Ten years ago I went out one January morning to blow snow. My neighbor was usually an early bird had not done his driveway or walks yet. I figured he wasn't feeling well and blew his driveway and sidewalks, then just started mine and got REAL tired, didn't know why, now I do. When one uses a snow blower you push it and when done you turn it off, get behind it, throw your arms behind you and grab the handle to pull it where you store it. Turned the machine off, got behind and threw my left arm over and grabbed the handle, then threw my right arm over three times and realized my arm was paralyzed, knew what was happening and went in the house to call my ex-wife and COULD NOT utter any kind sound from my mouth. As I was waiting for EMS to come I did some thinking. Knew nothing about stokes, other than they suck and you don't want one. So at that point I "accepted" (very powerful word) what was going on, knowing if one fights for something they cannot fix you only wind up hurting yourself mentality. So I figured what was done is done. I felt no fear or scariness. I did have facial muscles and could smile. I'm right handed and was joking with the EMS guys with my left hand on paper. Did gain my voice and arm back, within 3 hours, BUT I lost an average of 22% of my short term memory which can be a bugger, when you know it.

A clock ticks, recording time never to return
Disappearing for ever, like photos that burn
Was time wasted, or are memories retained
Brining smiles, not tears representing rain

I recall as a child, everyone seemed old
In youth I was shy, not strong and bold
In Maturity I'm more confident, in control
Still feeling youthful, certainly never dull

Attitude is ours, to nurture and own
Comes with experience, of seeds sown
With many life options, we must decide
Hopefully we asked, for the wise to guide

Final choices are ours... it just has to be
Never blame others, into the future see
Being brave at times, can make us strong
As admitting in hindsight, if we was wrong

Learning from mistakes, acceptable in life
Whether good or bad, can lead to strife
Character building, inner strength can grow
Good people are important, you'll by now know

Some you can trust, others you must not
Never regret the process, join every dot
Those who make you sad, will pull you down
Remember smiles are important, not a frown

So as you mature, there are experiences leant
Emotional bridges, can so easily be burnt
Find what makes you happy, enjoy each day
Age isn't so bad, pick choices wisely ...
or health will pay.

I want to give you a recipe for youth: find an intelligent and reliable man and let him kiss you, all wrinkles disappear from passion.

Sigh quietly, raise your chest slightly, as if you are starting to feel sad, and gesture with your eyes to the embrace.

Well, then - let him hug you

Remember that youth is love! Envy, gossip, and anger are diseases

To maintain eternal youth, falling in love renews blood and relieves stress, depression and fatigue!