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Where Shelter Apr 20
my nose now runs seasonallyfrom sigh droplets

every new season celebrated by the constant continuation
of its running from, running to ?, or as I joke,  
from  September to September inclusive

but something new, my eyes now watery, a permanente daily irregularity, the imaginary laundry lady whines consistently, as she cannot always locate, prior to machine insertion, for all my secret hiding places of the always everywhere ***** tissues!

“too many pockets, too many tissues,” she underbreath mumbles,
but secretly I observe her similarly daubing~dabbing of the eyes,
in this time of constant sorrow, no one immunized, the sigh droplets
pass through any mask and gown, and then become full time residents

wry thinking, “let he or she who is without stone, cast the first tissue”
but we are all ****** all the time, heavy heaving, eyes tearing and
noses running

it don’t take much, the continuous reportage batters me and turning
away from my electronics impossible, they now hard wired inside the maniac-brainiac, wifi’d, from every side, even a actual glance outside at the desert of our dehumanized streetscapes always amazes

we no longer worry that every sniffle or tear
is a warning sign of  a more serious ailment;
no, we understand too well this is a sad spirit inside,
it’s symptoms unleashed but un-lethal, the antibody
to a weariness that has no name, only tissues that

cannot cure nor disinfect
Just Ivan Jan 18
I have no soul to make use of my spirit.
I have no love to make use of my body.
I have no dreams to make use of my heart.  
I have no paths to make use of my legs.
I have no depth to make use of my arms.  
I have no words to make use of my breath.
I have no gardens to make use of my nose.
I have no kitchen to make use of my tongue.
I have no thunder to make use of my ears.
I have no imagination to make use of my eyes.
I have no needles to make use of my hands.

I have no me to make use of the world.
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
He wondered if he had
A nose for news,
'Cause it was always breaking.

So he opted for
Surgery instead,
Only to find himself
The talk of the town.

Now that's nothing
To sniff at!
Neelabh Sourav Dec 2019
By- Neelabh Sourav.
Translated from Assamese by: Bibekananda Choudhury.


I saw a variegated face on your hands
I saw a chequered venomous snake
Eyes bulging
Cheek nose swelled up like the character
in the painting of Van Gogh
Coughing intermittently
I saw an amazing sight on your palms
Magical actor fingers
I got startled on reading
What have you written

How dare you
Making a mincemeat of people
What an astonishing devilish pen I saw
On your hands
Kitana St Cyr Oct 2019
The smell of my fluids excites me
I wait for the day it won’t be from just my fingers,
But on my lover’s nose too.

I’ll run my hand softly across his face,
Make him wonder
How is my natural scent so intentionally designed to attract HIM ?

Allow me to make you live for memories before they’re even created,
Chase all your dreams, and
Explore your wildest imagination

Of one in particular,
My scent
May it guides you home blindfolded
A scent that calls for white wine
Before you taste,
Smell me !
Let it refresh your neurons
Before we sync in
-sense of smell
-olfactory sensory neurons
-found in a small patch of tissue high inside the nose
-connected directly to the brain

* a late night love note to my lover Chase Brown
Yazad Tafti Sep 2019
look at me
keep looking
i didn't say to look away
look right
now look left
now look inside that tim hortons at the person in the flannel jacket eating chili with buttered bread (love chili)
now look back at me
look at my shoes
now look into my eyes
you just checked me out
look as deep as when eyeing the unmixed sugar in the bottom of your coffee mug, too far to get your fingers on....
keep reaching....fixed at the bottom
look away.....
just know
i'm still looking at you
;) :))
A beautiful dazzle of sunlight wakes me up,
Slowly opening my eyes feeling numb.
Slowly remembering the taste of my own cup.
Karma, that ****** ****.

Splattering blood in the parking lot.
Severely beaten,
All of the memories and regrets are brought;
Left me bleeding.

A silly smile on my face.
Waiting for that fatal coup de grace.
A bludgeoned arm, a fractured leg, a broken nose...
Peacefuly falling in the arms of Azrael, to forever repose.
Jonathan Moya Mar 2019
I have something I must confess to you
I pick my nose, eat all my buggers too.
This causes distress and disgust I know    
still off the floor I’ve  eaten food that glows.

Science says that it’s all just for the best
for I immunize against just those pests,
my antibodies delight in the twirl
of not taking a break from this ill world.

Be too clean enough, watch your body die,
a clam unable to grow pearls inside.

The history of hay fever  attests
it started an aristocratic pest
until more begats trickled it to the rest.
Years later immunity herd resets
made your older ***** hand many bros
less the cause of your sneezing and your woes.
Now cleaner living, hygienic hands,
less man, swing it back to the wealthy clans.

The fate of humanity all well depends
on the fact antibodies never end.
Evolution favors the hardy bugs
making man one of its many doomed shrugs.
Disease, extinction, not in human plan,
he will fight, fight to be part of this land.

Vaccines have prevented much needless death
giving antibodies a daily test.
We have avoided all that still does ****
yet  allergies still make one run to hills,
allowing even worst auto-inflamed chills.
Giving all your antibodies a rest
is not the answer for ****** distress.

Time to adapt bodies to the new world.
Not **** both good and bad in the big furl.
Let it listen, learn and train friend from foe,
not pay attention to the ad man’s show.

Man has conquered this small space to survive,
he must evolve away to really thrive.
We are unsafer when we **** all risk,
to immunize, immunize is the trick.

So I will pick my nose, eat my buggers,
knowing I am creating new lovers
not afraid at all to hug each other.
Madeleine Mar 2019
The sniffer to smell
From the indoors to the outdoors
Rotten and the fresh

The smell of flowers
To the fresh crisp autumn air
And campfire treats

Manure on farms
getting sprayed by a scared skunk
or dumpsters in back

From kitchen dinners
And the freshly baked cookies
and banana bread
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