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Juliana Apr 4
Oh, how a little ripple in the ocean
can create the biggest of tides.

I was never one for the water.
I was doing just fine on land.
But you,
you made me
an oceanographer.

You showed me to the fish,
and one by one,
I wanted to collect them all.
One by one,
I became addicted.

It was nuclear.
Like an atomic bomb,
you changed my world.
For the better. For the worst.

My exoskeleton was shattered,
and I was left to pick up the pieces.
I’m still here,
putting myself back together like a puzzle,
covered in grains of sand,
finding myself among the coral.

I’m hidden. I’m broken.
But you gave me my glue.
You fill up my seams.
You’ve taught me wrong from right,
you’ve left me more questions
then I could even think to answer.

I’m now a politician,
having to choose
which lies I believe,
which lies I want to believe.
What do I want to be the truth.

Because of you,
I’ve fallen into a world
I can’t get out of,
I’ve been thrown into
a wormhole I never thought possible,
like a dung beetle
I’ve had to scrape through ****
to see the other side,
and I’ve had to flush
my former self down the toilet.

But maybe I was never her.
Maybe I have always been me.
Maybe this is who
I’ve always meant to be.
Maybe I haven’t
even been found yet.

But I thank you,
I thank you so much
because now I’m on that journey.

I am on a ship
that is going to sail me
away to my future.
My neverland.

I, thanks to you,
will find neverland.
I’m so glad I lost the boy.
Raven Feels Apr 2
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, just random stuff to share from my notes:>

                            twinkle twinkle in my head

                           a fairy tumbling into my bed

                      on a quest to the escape trips the feet

                     laughter spread wide on the concrete

                                hidden from the unseen

                              yet for the magic to appear

                             a glisten from afar not near

                                  holds before the gone

                        before the adventure or the run

                         silenced on trickles of embraces

              tattooed to the lips in drips from those chases

           unfunded to the dimples of the backs of the faces

                             to a welcoming of a nation

                            a whole new legacy a creation

            symphonies to my ears an incredulous fascination

                I rather the harmonious dancing pleasantries

                  that bring the chaos and back the pastries

                                  not of cakes not of candy

                                           of memories

                                     in a twist in a frown

                       the enchantment betrays and drowns

                      the lover into a fictional immortality

                           the kind that sweeps from reality

   to the hands of seconds on the visual symbols of conspiracy

                                      flustered by snow

                     into margins drunk on the laws of penalty

                       and the encounters of past familiarity

                      hums into the heights smoothed frights

                                     bet you a comeback

                                      in the final scene

                        the again everlasting so called calamity

                        not even knowing the costs or the price

                               hence on the steps they wise

                               an adornment so pure so nice

                                       simple for a ball

                                       unique for a fall

                                       on the toilet wall

                                    and the myth in the hall




                                
                                                                ­      

                                                               ­                   -----ravenfeels
Holding *** when the muscle requires some effort directs attention to the lower body away from the eyes and the head area which is the normal place of reflection.
It makes me think of releasing it and of the bathroom and toilet to do so, as if I was constructing a plan to carry out.
The other muscles used to concentrate can be relaxed as the new concentration is on the bladder area.
Yet this pulls the attention to the seat if seated, like placing attention on the foundation of the meditation posture.
The focus spreads to the thighs and solar plexus.
Finally to the back of the head, but with pressure that will not allow anything to replace it.
The management mind states next that the task at hand is more pressing than bladder release.
And I remember all the times I've had to hold my *** and the places and situations that precipitated them.
I start to tell myself that I'm suffering needlessly as if I was being bullied by my situation.
Thus the parts of the body actually take the center of the personality over other parts of the body.
The managerial aspect will offer motherly comfort to the childlike personality of holding ***.
I start to go into wishful dream mentality just like holding *** while in the early hours of the morning trying to still sleep.
And the attention is tranquilized back to reflection with the hold tucked away in the background of the mind, reflection aspect now being more parental in nature.
What is transcendence? is sort of a moronic question, and I notice my words start to be more bullyish.
This question is rather asking is there a particle of transcendence?
No, it is a function of frequencies of the body.
Consciousness can be the essential aspect of transcending, but no more than consciousness is the essential of concentration.
Tranquility and insight, just as taught, happens, without attention on tranquility, and without tranquility within attention.
Experiment
Alan S Bailey Nov 2020
To the tune of the song "The Sound of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel

Verse 1
Hello toilet, my old friend
I've come to **** in you again
I've been waiting for a great while
This time I'm going the ex-tra mile
With a force that few have ever known
Will power alone
I'm taking...the ****...of GIANTS

Verse 2
In struggling feels I might pass out
There is much sweat upon my brows
And a straining-pushing as such
Upon a mountain where lightning struck
Where I felt the challenge
Seemed beyond my strength
What it might take
Attempting...the ****...of GIANTS

Verse 3
And in the end I can now feel
This force of nature makes me reel
Pushing a boulder that may not pass
Pushing a stone with such great mass
Making a log of the greatest immense size
Yes-in all my life
As this was...the ****...of GIANTS

Verse 4
By my word-I feel-that this is it
Upon this toilet throne I sit
Feeling like an explosion from inside
With no place in my mind left to hide
As this was-like a moose now giving birth
The enormous ****...of GIANTS

Verse 5
And my goal it now seems in sight
I give it all with all my might
In a strange vision this very moment
As this an unreal bowel movement
And soon I feel:
Like the clear shaking in the earth
That as making n' breaking waves
I'm stunned and dazed
From taking...the ****...of GIANTS
(Sang to the tune of "The Sound of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel)
I own nothing. Enjoy!
...well, nothing accept the world 'size of **** taken' record.
Tony Tweedy May 2020
I have had a little problem for the last four days or so,
of when I go into the toilet I just can't seem to go.

I get myself all seated just as comfortable as I can,
try to make quite certain I am centred on the pan.

I wait for things to happen but nothing seems to start,
no motions seem to occur not even some hint that I might ****.

I decide to try and push it and build pressure by holding breath,
but all that seems to do is put me close to suffocated death.

I grunt and squeak and gasp until an ear popped gasket blows,
all I end up doing is going red and blowing bubbles with my nose.

I tried a change of diet and drank gallon upon gallon of fruit juice,
but still there seems no evidence that anything is coming loose.

I have tried a change of position with my knees against my chin,
but I found it really awkward and ended up falling in.

My belly has gotten very large and feels as tight as a drum,
so much so I contemplate if you can use a crowbar on your ***.

I am sure outside the toilet they are hearing more than mere moans,
Looks I get quite often suggests surprise I've still got any bones.

I know that sometime eventually this thing will have to pass,
I just hope that when it does I can still use paper on my **.
Its true... I'm full of *hit
ah.... the beauty of poetry...
annh May 2020
‘First, the toilet paper panic.
Then a cleaning frenzy,
followed by a baking bonanza.
Now, slow-cooked casseroles
seem to be on the menu.
It's like the seven stages of grief,
…in groceries.’

Economists aren’t generally known for their ability to sustain a metaphor. Woolworth’s CEO Brad Banducci - the exception to the rule - watched the mood of Australians change during the COVID-19 outbreak through the prism of their shopping choices.
Masha Yurkevich Apr 2020
#5


You never realize
what you have

until it's gone.


Toilet Paper
is a good example.



Poetic T Apr 2020
Life at this moment you cant be bullshitting
me. There isn't an April fools that's getting
even close to what we find ourselves hitting
any where near to this.  it's so unfitting.

But no matter the **** hitting the fan,  I haven't got
any bog roll. I can only poo outside before I'm caught.
But leaves are natures wipes and I'm dammed if aught
I'll sleep with skids on my sheets, but if I do I'll just smile.

But underneath I gag as the sweet corn is natures reminder
to wipe before, as they feel like coffee not  put through the grinder.
I feel like crap my legs woefully tanned, not because of the sun,
crap skidding my legs,  as if you lift the sheets its a gross viewfinder.
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