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Zywa Nov 2022
My hair blown apart,

my motorbike cleaves the wind --


cleaves heaven and earth.
"Zoete snelheid" ("Sweet speed", 1932, Abraham van Oosten)

Collection "SoulSenseSun"
Anais Vionet Aug 2022
It’s elko noice to be back in the sprawling, claustrophobic infinity of college.

I love the energy, the hubbub, the moving-ins, the lines for everything and the freshmen’s hovering parents. We loiter, my roommates and I, sipping expensive, store-bought coffee, around the dorms, the bookstores, and shops, soaking up the frenzy.

A mom sweetly says to her overwhelmed son, “Relax,” passing-off his stress, “enjoy this, engage those five senses and take it all in.” I smiled to myself - there are at least 21 senses, like equilibrioception (balance), thermoception (for heat/cold) and nociception (pain) - just to name three. I thought, “Welcome to college kid.”

The first weeks of freshie life can be lonely - if you’re single. You search for someone to like - it can be very arbitrary and looks based. Last year, around campus, all you could see was the tops of people's faces. When everyone’s masked, eyebrows say a lot, so if you had beautiful eyebrows that went a long way - of course, hair was important too.

There’s an eyebrow studio, down below the green, where students could, as the epitome of style, get their eyebrows threaded hoping they’d look more interesting, and more bonkable. That place was booming.

Masking’s still a thing for fall ‘22 - in classrooms, instructional spaces, and high-density events - at least at first, until they see the spread - but there’s way less isolation. This semester there are exciting, new questions for potential ‘love’ interests to answer, like - “Have you ever dated any simians (monkeys)?
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Epitome: ideal example or embodiment.

Slang:
weebee = we’re back
elko = surprisingly
noice = a jokey, Australian lean on “nice.”
passing-off = blowing-off, dismissing
The cool plush ****
of succulent grass
whispering against
bare ankles.  

The verdant smell
of rain pelting
the crusty earth,
loamy fresh.

The piercing tingle
of noon sunshine
on the bald orb
of the shoulder.

The comforting touch
the warm embrace
that soothes  
the aching heart.

The energizing aroma
of coffee burbling
brews hope
and inspiration.

My filter, clear and bright
illuminates the night
in waves of bliss

Anchored by the senses
I remember
what brings me
happiness
GaryFairy Aug 2022
When you were a child you liked to play
That is Godly

Remember when they told you to go play?
You didn't always want to play

You wouldn't stop carrying on and wallowing around
When they whipped you or sent you to your room

You played
God returns

Proof?
It sure wasn't the devil guiding you.
They were busy telling you what to do, and whipping you for not playing

Boom
Gentleness...please pass on.it is time
neth jones Jul 2022
slumming heat blooms open pores
old cedar smells emit
from the backs of wooden draws
season
  and gelid memory
          are stimulated
****** thrall
   portal
     nostril thrilled
       into a receptive mating
so clear
drilled to receive all the flowers
               spent perfume
all the heavings and leavings
         of odorous humans
arousing the sense of it all
vaporous rewards
      produce a relaxed flushing
HOMEWORK VERSION

slumming heat blooms open pores
old cedar smells emit
from the backs of wooden draws
season
  and gelid memory
          are stimulated
Zywa Jun 2022
Untranslatable

are all these things you can feel!


so go outside now!
Collection "Eyes lips chest and belly"
Odd Odyssey Poet Apr 2022
The sound of a feeling; "I love you"
The touch of a look; "beauty brushing my eyes"
The scent of an action;  "smelling your intentions"
And the taste of a sound; "my sweetest nothings"

Love tickles all of these senses.
Rickey Someone Mar 2022
12/9/2021

Sitting in this parking lot, the blasting sirens wail outside,
I watch the flashing clouds, the spreading lightning,
I feel the pulling wind, the pressing sky,
I watch the empty streets, the waving trees,
I hear it raining on my roof, the crickets in December,
And I really hope I’m not an idiot, sitting in this parking lot.
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