Federal agents seen blocking roads leading to farms in Ventura County
After COVID financial exception the poverty order of math regulations grasps liberties
Verses limiting Assembly and Public Defense
Interest in hearing from free speech professionals above the granted offices of staff.
Such that retort rebuttal or record in retraction as gaining traction in printed press allows readership to submit evidence of redress. Having failed due process and diligence the public record holds the assembly woman Irwin and the county of Ventura and unincorporated areas legal assistance in contempt.
contempt.
#asmirwin #vcpublicdefender #cagovernor #repbrownley #mikeytaylor #berniesanders #aoc #realdonaldtrump #tonybiasotti #latimes
latimes
#venturapolice #vcsheriff #sbcpubdef #lapdhq #lapdcentral #nypd #nyfd #nytimes
nytimes
#repcarbajal #congressmansherman #repjasmine #iamwesmoore #taragendron #kendalljenner #saulwilliams
Reference as science and letters
Published reference by military science researcher
#nasa #mit
In science, we observe.
All only exist when and after they are
observed.
I, an explorer, lean in with a lens
to catch the scent of rained soil,
the mist above the lake before sunrise—
trying to defy
the myth of love, with my
list of what I’m meant to find:
- light feathery kisses in spring breeze’s tickle
- smiling to smiling eyes in a pavement puddle
- shared silence after a midnight rain
- a cocoa cuddle while the world melts away
Footnote: Data inconclusive
For two years, I've woven verses like threads of gold,
Yet in the shadows, my unfinished research whispers,
A ghost from the past, beckoning me to mend the frayed edges,
Now and then, I stumble into a fog, yearning to complete the tapestry left undone.
The research demands ten hours, six days a week,
A relentless tide that pulls me under,
If fortune smiles, perhaps a pearl of wisdom will surface in months,
Success is a fickle companion, but the quest is my steadfast companion,
No riches or renown await me, just the quiet reward for a curious mind.
Poetry, on the other hand, flows like a river of emotions,
Crafted with the brushstrokes of my soul,
No coins clink in my pocket here,
My father would chuckle, calling it a venture in folly.
Yet, whether I reap gold or not,
If these creations ignite joy within my heart,
They gift me a sense of triumph, a balm for my restless spirit.
The threads we weave in the early years
Define the ties that hold our fears
Attachment forms, a hidden thread
Guiding the paths where we are led
Some reach for love with open arms
while others guard with quiet alarms
The past, it molds the way we love
A blueprint written from above
My paper seeks to lift the veil
To understand how patterns sail
For through this lens, we can repair
The bonds we seek, the love we share
You are alive,
squirming in my hand
like a dissatisfied infant
or a fish searching for water.
You are alive, we are alive.
There is something the same in us-
some spark undefinable,
except by contrast to its cold absence: death.
You have a mind and survival instincts
and stoic eyes like a sixth sense I cannot recognize.
The quiet of the dissection room
is heavy like the quiet of a tomb.
You would not understand my appology
and are too young yet to sing,
as I damn you to this silence eternally.
What is the gentlest way to end a life?
Oh certainly not this.
And which thought is more sickening
that God will not forgive this small act of killing
or that He deem it no sin in need of forgiving?
You were alive in my hands.
I am alive, you were alive.
You were in my hand.
Now everything should be different,
but life is so fragile and commonly broken
that everything keeps moving.
Like Cain, like Ivan, I keep moving
because life is for the living, for the killers,
for the things that bite
wandering the earth until they too are bitten.
Dust motes dance, and sunlight spills
Through dusty windows of my intellectual lair
The aged paper scent, comfort and snare
Surrounded by knowledge, a thirst I can't share
SPARK! A question burns, pushes past the dark
I dive deep, wide, into oceans of knowing
A treasure hunt, secrets growing
Mountains of data, endlessly flowing
Sifting, unearthing, piecing together
Connecting dots, puzzle incomplete
Every clue - victory!
Every dead end - defeat!
It taunts me! Just out of reach
A hidden treasure, beyond my mental breach
No map, and no guide, but the hunt goes on
Day and night, dusk to dawn
But in the chaos, in the din
Beauty emerges from within
This pursuit - life's reflection
Unfolding chapters, joy, dejection
Like lovers lost in the moment's embrace
I surrender to research's grace
A journey of discovery of lives intertwined
Every question answered
A truth we find
In the quest... we find ourselves.
The simpler is a
Woman's dress, the better are
Her social skills.
In ivory towers, oblivious reigns,
Blind to the weight of scholarly chains,
Reports unread, insights ignored,
The fruits of labour, rashly scored.
Heads turn away from midnight oil,
Unseeing depths of earnest toil,
Quality dismissed with careless ease,
As if research grew on trees.
Passion exploited, dedication scorned,
Complexity of thought, summarily shorn,
"Just another paper," they decree,
Failing to grasp what they can't see.
Understanding falters at the gate,
Where ignorance sits in high estate,
Dismissing years of careful thought,
As if such work was dearly bought.
In halls of power, a tragic play,
Where value's judged by yesterday,
And those who push the bounds of knowing,
Find recognition never growing.
O, the irony of learned spaces,
Where wisdom often hides its traces,
And those entrusted with the helm,
Fail to fathom their realm.
Research uncover
Men succeed after forty
Acceptance ever.
I'm alive today
For research is alive
Then, what's yours now, pal?
You had been once a living bone, full of potential and motive,
But someplace alongside the manner, you forgot your really worth and worthiness,
Lost in the shuffle of existence's needs and distractions,
You unnoticed your own boom and self-discovery.
However now it is time to consider,
To rekindle the spark that once ignited your soul,
To dust off the cobwebs of doubt and uncertainty,
And step into the light of your true capability.
Like a seed buried deep inside the earth,
You have the power to grow and flourish,
To stretch your roots and attain for the sky,
To embody your unique path and purpose.
So take a deep breath and permit yourself unfurl,
Like a flower opening to the morning sun,
Permit your internal light shine vivid and actual,
And watch as the sector awakens for your beauty.
For you're a dwelling bone, complete of electricity and resilience,
Capable of overcoming any obstacle or mission,
And as you retain on your journey of self-improvement,
You may find out the endless depths of your personal magic and marvel.
A famous poet once said...
Write an idea from a poet
is plagiarism, but write borrowed
many ideas from several poets,
is research
You can see me in your face
(past version)
In life you didn’t know me.
I had died so long ago.
But in another when you knew me,
In an existence all aglow.
I hope someday you’ll find me
On some page with faded ink -
Part of your family history -
That undiscovered missing link.
Can you remember me?
I was more than just a name.
I lived and loved, gave birth and died,
And passed on my husband’s name.
Can you remember me,
From another time and place?
Gaze closely in your looking glass;
You can see me in your face.
Can you remember me?
Don’t forget me.
Picked a piece of ice
Fell from the sky
Kept in the ice box
One…
To research
Picked a piece of ice
Fell from the sky
Kept in the ice box
Another…
To use
Related Poems