#palpable
^
capable of being touched or felt, TANGIBLE
easily perceptible, NOTICEABLE
easily perceptible by the mind, MANIFEST
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
*mind, body
tangible, noticeable…manifest
a summary specific quality,
body, mind, you, me,
actual, imagined…felt
realized, visible, invisible
palpably difficult, struggling to tell,
the nuances well, so easy understood,
yet,
so credibly hard to to my
cred,
to re-realize the*
essential essential
*of getting this
precise,
right.
knowing fully well,
that twice alright
have made the
human touch
my poetic target,*
and yet,
(always, always an and yet)
*I fear my failure
to touch you
to whom I communicate
by ether and pixilation,
by wire and satellite,
across continents,
through pouring secretions
from my pores
how palpable is the need
of my heart beating to
feel understood,*
*this need, so urgent,
to kiss your lips,
brace you to embrace,
pervade your kind mind,
(kind enough to let me enter),*
**to tangibly manifest
from my skin to your skin,
from my creviced mind,
to your creviced heart,
the pounding albatross
of this verbal unreality,
that is so real to me***
*that shakes with pleasured
anticipate, that the very
thought, of your reading
this loving wail,
this so tangible gesture,
breaks me to real-ease,
the tears pooling in my
eyes to land on your
exquisitely soft cheeks,*
and to take them away
returned to me, with gentlest
of a finger uplifting them,
and placing them on my
tongue,
for safekeeping…*
10/8
0907am
Wed
2025
~~~~
^
capable of being touched or felt, TANGIBLE
easily perceptible, NOTICEABLE
easily perceptible by the mind, MANIFEST
Oct 10, 2025
Oct 10, 2025 at 11:49 AM UTC
Like time, are we found through serendipity.
Minutes, a mere tick to unfounded revelation.
Past, are the days when we go subtly by, dissipating into the night sky.
Like time, our corporeal spirits aloft into the pitchy sky.
The tender kiss, a gentle stroke, nuanced by the caressing love of the lunar above.
Like time, are we imprisoned in our own conscious. A mere abstract picture, blown into the winds, caught adrift, and veered into the dark streams of reality's heavy rift.
Like time, we are ethereal wayfarers: youthful beings marked by ephemeral nature, merely to trance the universe's wake.
And like time, our departure ticks till the last grain meets, and the sand flipped, to start all over again, and again, and again.
Oct 26, 2019
Oct 26, 2019 at 5:53 AM UTC
Towards the end of a mans life
A moment flickers into his mind
A reflection of happiness
A feeling of happiness floods his brain
Fuelled by his memories
This is the help he receives for his unfortunate journey
It makes it palpable
This is what happens when he is not in control
But if he is in control
Then the moment becomes his life
The flicker becomes a weight
The weight blocks the happiness
All thats left is the depressing weight
Of the memories he isn't receiving
Now his unfortunate journey feels needed
Because his happy memories
Are not being remembered
Control or not, it's what you leave behind
You will live on
Through everyone you made smile
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 7:44 AM UTC