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"membrane" poems
There are five widely known senses. Sight, hearing, touch, smell and taste. We've got some minor ones as well, such as balance, temperature and many more. However, people fail to realise that there's also the sixth major sense. Thoughts themselves.    If we look closely, all these five senses have the same base. Specified cells in eye react to energy of light, cells of ear recieve energy in form of air's vibrations, skin cells pick up energy of mechanical changes, and so tasting and hearing depend on translation of certain substances' chemical energy.    These cells in different organs differ in their structure and the way they appear, however, if we stop looking at them in such small scale, we can see that ALL of the cells or organs responsible for any sense translate the energy.    So, a light enters the eye, certain wavelenght of certain energy stimulates the eye's rod or cone cells with a certain intensity. Then the energy of light is translated to energy of electrical impulse, which goes straight to the brain, creating the sensation of sight.    If it comes to smell, a certain particle enters the nose, binds to a smell receptor cell, and the chemical energy of this particle is, again, translated to energy of electrical impulse, which goes straight to the brain, creating the sensation of smell.    Now, let's move to the crucial part. The sense of thoughts.    During the creation of thought, pathways in our brain that collect memories(and many more known or unknown pathways) connect. First, there's this spark of electricity, that moves all along the neuron and releases a dose of neurotransmitters(amount of different NTs is equiavlent to strength of this spark, basically resulting in "creating" various thoughts). Then, chemical energy of NEUROTRANSMITTER is translated to energy of electrical impulse, which happens in the brain, creating the sensation of thought.    Therefore the 'sense of thoughts' reacts to and is stimulated by neurotransmitters themselves, with receptors on neurons' membrane being receptors of the stimulus. So, kind of like smell, the stimulus is chemical, compared to sight, where it's electromagnetic wave; anyways the result in all of these is electric impulse in neurons (hence the idea of "thoughts" as a sense, due to the same basic layout; transfer of energy).    The 'smell particle' connects to receptor and is translated to a certain amount of neurotransmitters/certain strenght of neuronal impulse. SO, again, we can see that when the first outer layer of this communication is cut off, we're left only with the neurotransmitters and impulses themselves. Anyway, the transduction of energy remains.    If it comes to "sense of thoughts" the receptor lies within us, whereas in sight or smell or touch it's external. However, does it matter if it's on the surface of skin or under it if it all comes down to neurons of our brain?    When you lie in a dark, silent room, without any external stimuli, you still retain your thoughts, colorful, vivid or complex. All the magic of the brain - still happens. So, how isn't it a separate, full-fledged sense?
0
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 6:49 AM UTC
ylangylangthoughts
Thoughts#22 ; Senses
There are five widely known senses. Sight, hearing, touch, smell and taste. We've got some minor ones as well, such as balance, temperature and many more. However, people fail to realise that there's also the sixth major sense. Thoughts themselves.    If we look closely, all these five senses have the same base. Specified cells in eye react to energy of light, cells of ear recieve energy in form of air's vibrations, skin cells pick up energy of mechanical changes, and so tasting and hearing depend on translation of certain substances' chemical energy.    These cells in different organs differ in their structure and the way they appear, however, if we stop looking at them in such small scale, we can see that ALL of the cells or organs responsible for any sense translate the energy.    So, a light enters the eye, certain wavelenght of certain energy stimulates the eye's rod or cone cells with a certain intensity. Then the energy of light is translated to energy of electrical impulse, which goes straight to the brain, creating the sensation of sight.    If it comes to smell, a certain particle enters the nose, binds to a smell receptor cell, and the chemical energy of this particle is, again, translated to energy of electrical impulse, which goes straight to the brain, creating the sensation of smell.    Now, let's move to the crucial part. The sense of thoughts.    During the creation of thought, pathways in our brain that collect memories(and many more known or unknown pathways) connect. First, there's this spark of electricity, that moves all along the neuron and releases a dose of neurotransmitters(amount of different NTs is equiavlent to strength of this spark, basically resulting in "creating" various thoughts). Then, chemical energy of NEUROTRANSMITTER is translated to energy of electrical impulse, which happens in the brain, creating the sensation of thought.    Therefore the 'sense of thoughts' reacts to and is stimulated by neurotransmitters themselves, with receptors on neurons' membrane being receptors of the stimulus. So, kind of like smell, the stimulus is chemical, compared to sight, where it's electromagnetic wave; anyways the result in all of these is electric impulse in neurons (hence the idea of "thoughts" as a sense, due to the same basic layout; transfer of energy).    The 'smell particle' connects to receptor and is translated to a certain amount of neurotransmitters/certain strenght of neuronal impulse. SO, again, we can see that when the first outer layer of this communication is cut off, we're left only with the neurotransmitters and impulses themselves. Anyway, the transduction of energy remains.    If it comes to "sense of thoughts" the receptor lies within us, whereas in sight or smell or touch it's external. However, does it matter if it's on the surface of skin or under it if it all comes down to neurons of our brain?    When you lie in a dark, silent room, without any external stimuli, you still retain your thoughts, colorful, vivid or complex. All the magic of the brain - still happens. So, how isn't it a separate, full-fledged sense?
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15
What they don’t tell you in school, while you’re trying to remember the difference between prophase and metaphase chromosomes and chromatin is that really biology isn’t science biology is life See, divorce divorce is like mitosis slow to start, but quick to finish Begins at prophase when conflicts arise as your family’s nucleolus, your family’s unity disappears Your carefree life, your chromatin, coil and change become tight, tense chromosomes Outside forces, mitotic spindles, residing in the cytoplasm start creeping towards your parents to separate their souls Metaphase: you’re all lined up single file ready for battle Centrosomes, middles of each new life, poised opposing each other with their spindles latched onto you kinetochore, your middle, like a dog with it’s leash Anaphase: everything separates, your world’s torn apart and you’re left silently watching alone as your sister is torn from your life Telophase: the pain starts to lessen as you uncoil and your broken family’s nuclear membrane begins to reform Once the paper’s are signed once the cell’s wall’s rebuilt your old life is over and the process it’s finished See, they don’t tell you don’t think you need to know that divorce is simply biology and mitosis well, it’s life
0
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
moriah-j-chace
Biology: Mitosis
What they don’t tell you in school, while you’re trying to remember the difference between prophase and metaphase chromosomes and chromatin is that really biology isn’t science biology is life See, divorce divorce is like mitosis slow to start, but quick to finish Begins at prophase when conflicts arise as your family’s nucleolus, your family’s unity disappears Your carefree life, your chromatin, coil and change become tight, tense chromosomes Outside forces, mitotic spindles, residing in the cytoplasm start creeping towards your parents to separate their souls Metaphase: you’re all lined up single file ready for battle Centrosomes, middles of each new life, poised opposing each other with their spindles latched onto you kinetochore, your middle, like a dog with it’s leash Anaphase: everything separates, your world’s torn apart and you’re left silently watching alone as your sister is torn from your life Telophase: the pain starts to lessen as you uncoil and your broken family’s nuclear membrane begins to reform Once the paper’s are signed once the cell’s wall’s rebuilt your old life is over and the process it’s finished See, they don’t tell you don’t think you need to know that divorce is simply biology and mitosis well, it’s life
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53
depression is such a pain throwing curve ***** of downfalls in the membrane my written words has pulled me from the pits of the brains pollution and this I know to be a true fact indeed "Writing" is the best cleaning solution
0
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 12:25 AM UTC
LadyBird
Brain Pollution
depression is such a pain throwing curve ***** of downfalls in the membrane my written words has pulled me from the pits of the brains pollution and this I know to be a true fact indeed "Writing" is the best cleaning solution
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7
We have engendered   them. Our   babies. Our annelids.  Facsimiles of Us. A gushing warm viscous  fluid And  a conglomerate of meat From the womb pods of our hive Rush out into your  oxygen. Our mass will grow indeed. And, Our perfect mitosis will repeat - More beautiful Babies. Our perfect mitosis will repeat - More beautiful Babies. 8 become 16; 16 become 32 You (solo) Must know by now; no  doubt Individuality is a cold, broken loop An anachronism of a bygone era Pass through  Our membrane , insect. And be born infinitely back through it. We will have you spread-out in our warmth Under our skins; apart of our million-chambered heart Join Us.
0
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 9:13 PM UTC
dev
Babies
We have engendered   them. Our   babies. Our annelids.  Facsimiles of Us. A gushing warm viscous  fluid And  a conglomerate of meat From the womb pods of our hive Rush out into your  oxygen. Our mass will grow indeed. And, Our perfect mitosis will repeat - More beautiful Babies. Our perfect mitosis will repeat - More beautiful Babies. 8 become 16; 16 become 32 You (solo) Must know by now; no  doubt Individuality is a cold, broken loop An anachronism of a bygone era Pass through  Our membrane , insect. And be born infinitely back through it. We will have you spread-out in our warmth Under our skins; apart of our million-chambered heart Join Us.
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26
I am in levels. Past levels. This deep, intrinsic wonderful lost, the lawlessness of its fascinating expenditure of excite. Pushing through the wild and feral snow-dusted plains and timber ridges. Like red-spotted dots breathing through the cylinders called the spine. This descends into a narrow channel of scantly clad greenish scenery in a time-soaked visionary wilderness of snow, Our crab legs dancing down wiry purple highways, our heads could not even look backwards if we had wanted. Furious, love-latitudes, stalking breaths thwacking fork-ended tongues into a pinkish knot buried into the first layer of organic membrane on this railway of miniature canals, showing. And their pride snuck into the elbows, shooting down each vertebrae as it stepped with great precision every ledge that the currency emphasized. The raw accumulation of stolen heart-beats rattling between the interstices of new fuel careering these red engines. Crashing with exquisite pleasure into one another.
0
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:41 AM UTC
martin-narrod
I am in levels. Past levels. this deep intrinsic wonderful lost, the lawlessness of its fascinating expenditure of excite.
I am in levels. Past levels. This deep, intrinsic wonderful lost, the lawlessness of its fascinating expenditure of excite. Pushing through the wild and feral snow-dusted plains and timber ridges. Like red-spotted dots breathing through the cylinders called the spine. This descends into a narrow channel of scantly clad greenish scenery in a time-soaked visionary wilderness of snow, Our crab legs dancing down wiry purple highways, our heads could not even look backwards if we had wanted. Furious, love-latitudes, stalking breaths thwacking fork-ended tongues into a pinkish knot buried into the first layer of organic membrane on this railway of miniature canals, showing. And their pride snuck into the elbows, shooting down each vertebrae as it stepped with great precision every ledge that the currency emphasized. The raw accumulation of stolen heart-beats rattling between the interstices of new fuel careering these red engines. Crashing with exquisite pleasure into one another.
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3
At a very small age, much too young to know what a true love felt like, I learned that I’d never be the special girl in your life. I could see from the distance already wedged between us that there would always be a much larger section of your heart that I’d never be good enough to fill. I was only a very small part of your world, taking up a tiny section of your heart like a sliver wedged deep inside the membrane of your greatest ***** like a paper cut to the side of your finger; so small just to push aside but too much pain to forget completely. I was the mistake you were trying to move on from, to put behind you, to forget about me as if I never existed. Even from a modest age, I knew how to long after a man who barely knew that I belonged to him. You were out of my league; in a total different game. I could hang on to someone like they were the air I needed inside my lungs to breathe. But you only ever wanted to be let go. Oxygen is nothing that I’ll ever be able to touch. You taught me what it meant to be temporary before I would ever know what commitment was and I learned soon enough that they didn’t mean the same thing. I tried and I tried and I tried to be your girl. I experienced my first broken heart when you asked her to marry you. We never had a relationship but she became the wedge between our potential friendship. I learned what heartbreak felt like by a man who said he loved me but had the strangest way of showing it. I learned that actions spoke louder than words but sometimes actions didn’t speak at all. I learned to never believe the truth because you’d taught me how good a lie felt within my ears; like the harmony of an orchestra whose conductor was blind to the instruments being played in front of him. We’ve never known harmony; always out of tune, I hated the sound of music. I loved fairytales but hated Cinderella and the reality that she brought to my life. Blood wasn’t thicker; It meant nothing to be related biologically when romantic love came into play. From a young age, I learned the world was a cruel and unfair place and I had to fight from my corner of the ring by myself. I learned what favoritism meant and not because you chose me. I learned temporary, but never knew commitment. The ratio of lies to truths was far greater. After knowing distance, I knew how to be cautious. After you broke my heart, I learned hate. I knew how it felt to hate before I would ever know how to love. I knew it like the back of my hand; more than I could ever know you. But it’s time I taught myself something so I’m learning forgiveness. I forgive you, for not knowing what it means to be a father. I forgive you for never choosing me and for always picking her. I tried and I tried and I tried to be daddy’s girl, but you never allowed me that privilege and your heart was never large enough for both of us, so I forgive you for loving her more; I forgive you for being my dad.
0
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 11:12 PM UTC
courtney-snodgrass
I Wanted You; You Chose Her
At a very small age, much too young to know what a true love felt like, I learned that I’d never be the special girl in your life. I could see from the distance already wedged between us that there would always be a much larger section of your heart that I’d never be good enough to fill. I was only a very small part of your world, taking up a tiny section of your heart like a sliver wedged deep inside the membrane of your greatest ***** like a paper cut to the side of your finger; so small just to push aside but too much pain to forget completely. I was the mistake you were trying to move on from, to put behind you, to forget about me as if I never existed. Even from a modest age, I knew how to long after a man who barely knew that I belonged to him. You were out of my league; in a total different game. I could hang on to someone like they were the air I needed inside my lungs to breathe. But you only ever wanted to be let go. Oxygen is nothing that I’ll ever be able to touch. You taught me what it meant to be temporary before I would ever know what commitment was and I learned soon enough that they didn’t mean the same thing. I tried and I tried and I tried to be your girl. I experienced my first broken heart when you asked her to marry you. We never had a relationship but she became the wedge between our potential friendship. I learned what heartbreak felt like by a man who said he loved me but had the strangest way of showing it. I learned that actions spoke louder than words but sometimes actions didn’t speak at all. I learned to never believe the truth because you’d taught me how good a lie felt within my ears; like the harmony of an orchestra whose conductor was blind to the instruments being played in front of him. We’ve never known harmony; always out of tune, I hated the sound of music. I loved fairytales but hated Cinderella and the reality that she brought to my life. Blood wasn’t thicker; It meant nothing to be related biologically when romantic love came into play. From a young age, I learned the world was a cruel and unfair place and I had to fight from my corner of the ring by myself. I learned what favoritism meant and not because you chose me. I learned temporary, but never knew commitment. The ratio of lies to truths was far greater. After knowing distance, I knew how to be cautious. After you broke my heart, I learned hate. I knew how it felt to hate before I would ever know how to love. I knew it like the back of my hand; more than I could ever know you. But it’s time I taught myself something so I’m learning forgiveness. I forgive you, for not knowing what it means to be a father. I forgive you for never choosing me and for always picking her. I tried and I tried and I tried to be daddy’s girl, but you never allowed me that privilege and your heart was never large enough for both of us, so I forgive you for loving her more; I forgive you for being my dad.
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89
Redemption The longer that you are with someone the more memories you collect. Blowing the mind kills the membrane by making them explode. Bursting through the wall making my memories. I have been running all over. Just bounce. Time is running out I am about to explode. Dumbstruck walking through the door making our memories. Restrictions will be by passed. Your door to your heart will be broken and blown away. All I can do is get ready to explode. All my memories will be gone, but tell me you won't forget me in your memories. Old friends became my new friends. Busting through the door trying to run around in circles. I always thought I was to bold to save you. All I want to do is chill out, but the flames to hell are burning me. I want a ride to civilization, but the only ride I get is a ride to death. I try and catch myself, but it is always too late. My memories will be gone and so will you. My memories our memories. A pool of blood will separate us. I don't want to be left alone in the dark. I won't back down from my memories. I'll be confessing on the sins of my life when you leave me. I am the background when you have no one. I won't get in the way. I won't surrender until you leave me.   I will never leave my memories until I am dead. When I need to know my fears I look in the mirror. The qualifications you gave to me to keep you I will keep until I die I said, but you left me dead. Nothing exist without the power of love and hatred. I put all my growing pains aside to see my memories again. My strange growing pains have killed the people I loved and the things I loved. We all have the growing pains but God brings growth through are pain. Revenge I heard of you. I used to hold a grudge against you. I use to trip over it. I used to be young asking all them questions. I am sorry for putting the blame on you. It was my fault. Trying to find myself it was so hard. I can’t explain the pain that I felt, and I can't imagine what kind of fear and pain all this stuff put you through I am sorry. The new man is supported by the memories of you being there for me. The memories I hold are mine and your forever. You are looking at someone who just died and came back to life. If it wasn't for you I would be dead still. All my mercy forgive me. For if you still leave me I will be here confessing on the sins of my life. For the memories of you are forever with me now. The identity that I had wasn't me, I don't know who that was. I am not you, but I really am sorry for dying and almost losing all my memories of you. Until then I will be confessing on all my sins in life.
0
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 2:20 PM UTC
adan-taylor
Redemtion and memories
Redemption The longer that you are with someone the more memories you collect. Blowing the mind kills the membrane by making them explode. Bursting through the wall making my memories. I have been running all over. Just bounce. Time is running out I am about to explode. Dumbstruck walking through the door making our memories. Restrictions will be by passed. Your door to your heart will be broken and blown away. All I can do is get ready to explode. All my memories will be gone, but tell me you won't forget me in your memories. Old friends became my new friends. Busting through the door trying to run around in circles. I always thought I was to bold to save you. All I want to do is chill out, but the flames to hell are burning me. I want a ride to civilization, but the only ride I get is a ride to death. I try and catch myself, but it is always too late. My memories will be gone and so will you. My memories our memories. A pool of blood will separate us. I don't want to be left alone in the dark. I won't back down from my memories. I'll be confessing on the sins of my life when you leave me. I am the background when you have no one. I won't get in the way. I won't surrender until you leave me.   I will never leave my memories until I am dead. When I need to know my fears I look in the mirror. The qualifications you gave to me to keep you I will keep until I die I said, but you left me dead. Nothing exist without the power of love and hatred. I put all my growing pains aside to see my memories again. My strange growing pains have killed the people I loved and the things I loved. We all have the growing pains but God brings growth through are pain. Revenge I heard of you. I used to hold a grudge against you. I use to trip over it. I used to be young asking all them questions. I am sorry for putting the blame on you. It was my fault. Trying to find myself it was so hard. I can’t explain the pain that I felt, and I can't imagine what kind of fear and pain all this stuff put you through I am sorry. The new man is supported by the memories of you being there for me. The memories I hold are mine and your forever. You are looking at someone who just died and came back to life. If it wasn't for you I would be dead still. All my mercy forgive me. For if you still leave me I will be here confessing on the sins of my life. For the memories of you are forever with me now. The identity that I had wasn't me, I don't know who that was. I am not you, but I really am sorry for dying and almost losing all my memories of you. Until then I will be confessing on all my sins in life.
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52
This is what she looks like when she's sad: The human condition effective immediately. Winter shades shift side to side, exploding out of each iris. Skin falling off, when lunging forward to kiss me. Fingernail daggers dig into my pores. I'll bleed under her fingernails, if she'll drag them down my torso until her knees click the floor. This is her tongue inside of my mouth: We taste each other before we waste each other. Hip bones parallel and our eyes rubbing shoulders, my hands surfing her rib cage and it's all the rage because she moans. And when she moans, color tones orbit around her head. Planetary tumors dancing around her skull; jump roping with her hair, eating morals and removing plurals. Those are her lips around me. Her head moves up and down but her eyes focus on me. She makes eye contact and I empty my dreams into her mouth. We are a public forum. I ache with alcohol poisoning and liberal undertones. The terrain that is my face bleeds oils that would lubricate the axle of the car that she drove into the tree that we carved our name into. Come back to me. I miss you so much. I watched you die. I watched you die and there was nothing I could do. They told me that she wouldn't make it. They told me that she might make it. My hand gripped at blood stained blanket. I think she said my name under the air mask. I could tell if she saw me; her eyes rolled back into her head after she gazed a thousand yards away into the field of black that sheltered the tall grass that we would chase each other through and get lost in as we got lost in each other. I love you! I ******* love you! My back, a membrane coil that rises my stiff neck that cares my head full of memories. I turn on the light and you're not there next to me. I put my hand on your copy of The Thornbirds and know that you've read it more than the notes I leave in your inbox, hoping that it'll say that you have seen it. Walking to your grave, I am a darkness that the abyss has swallowed and I have followed myself into nothingness that is such bliss that I forget your kiss.
0
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 1:01 PM UTC
joshua-haines
******** and Car Crashes ******* in a mouth)
This is what she looks like when she's sad: The human condition effective immediately. Winter shades shift side to side, exploding out of each iris. Skin falling off, when lunging forward to kiss me. Fingernail daggers dig into my pores. I'll bleed under her fingernails, if she'll drag them down my torso until her knees click the floor. This is her tongue inside of my mouth: We taste each other before we waste each other. Hip bones parallel and our eyes rubbing shoulders, my hands surfing her rib cage and it's all the rage because she moans. And when she moans, color tones orbit around her head. Planetary tumors dancing around her skull; jump roping with her hair, eating morals and removing plurals. Those are her lips around me. Her head moves up and down but her eyes focus on me. She makes eye contact and I empty my dreams into her mouth. We are a public forum. I ache with alcohol poisoning and liberal undertones. The terrain that is my face bleeds oils that would lubricate the axle of the car that she drove into the tree that we carved our name into. Come back to me. I miss you so much. I watched you die. I watched you die and there was nothing I could do. They told me that she wouldn't make it. They told me that she might make it. My hand gripped at blood stained blanket. I think she said my name under the air mask. I could tell if she saw me; her eyes rolled back into her head after she gazed a thousand yards away into the field of black that sheltered the tall grass that we would chase each other through and get lost in as we got lost in each other. I love you! I ******* love you! My back, a membrane coil that rises my stiff neck that cares my head full of memories. I turn on the light and you're not there next to me. I put my hand on your copy of The Thornbirds and know that you've read it more than the notes I leave in your inbox, hoping that it'll say that you have seen it. Walking to your grave, I am a darkness that the abyss has swallowed and I have followed myself into nothingness that is such bliss that I forget your kiss.
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66
Single cells no organelles with membranes permeable respond with will to live Prokaryote so simple no nucleus  no lack nearing food evading harm Membrane assures survival   expanding one to two Membranes of the human process mystery When shall we admit our brains do not direct our intricate survival
0
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC
kmae
Prokaryote
Single cells no organelles with membranes permeable respond with will to live Prokaryote so simple no nucleus  no lack nearing food evading harm Membrane assures survival   expanding one to two Membranes of the human process mystery When shall we admit our brains do not direct our intricate survival
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13
Overthinking. I'm dwelling on things that need not more than five – no, two seconds. Dismissed. Spinning, looping Repeating. So unnecessarily lingering. My mind is a bubble, with a delicate membrane between my world and sanity, that houses liquid danger Evaporated and pressing outward against the walls I constructed to keep others out, and that instead poison me with the toxic gas of these Thoughts.
0
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
sarahj
Overthinking
Overthinking. I'm dwelling on things that need not more than five – no, two seconds. Dismissed. Spinning, looping Repeating. So unnecessarily lingering. My mind is a bubble, with a delicate membrane between my world and sanity, that houses liquid danger Evaporated and pressing outward against the walls I constructed to keep others out, and that instead poison me with the toxic gas of these Thoughts.
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20
So many chiefers and not enough Indians There Yosef go with that ******** again fools can't comprehend Cuz them weeds they choppin' put all thoughts to end So come again like ya repeating the same thang Ghetto Twain rhymes like boomerang leavin' welts on the back of the membrane My topics ain't meant for population So if you don't like change the **** station So fools keep on puffin' and I'm.keep on stuffin' My minds with nothing knowledge I learned nothing college But to party and ******** shut and take a hit Let the dogia explore your deepest mind terrains Got ya hooked like a crane invoking much pain Time is suffering people offering up sacrifices And claiming they just being nice for the right price They'll sell out they soul for few ounces of gold So you see what's happening blasting like rocket Coming for pockets of fake prophets once I'm set I'm a raging bull so ain't no stopppin' it Then next thing ya know I stare at the floor and the window My third eyes enlighten Thinking to myself I gotta go but I got buzz contact off that fake indo... Shaking my head looking at these young studs Laughing at em smokin'them fake budds
0
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 4:41 PM UTC
Ru7hl355_Gangsta
Still Smokin' Budd
So many chiefers and not enough Indians There Yosef go with that ******** again fools can't comprehend Cuz them weeds they choppin' put all thoughts to end So come again like ya repeating the same thang Ghetto Twain rhymes like boomerang leavin' welts on the back of the membrane My topics ain't meant for population So if you don't like change the **** station So fools keep on puffin' and I'm.keep on stuffin' My minds with nothing knowledge I learned nothing college But to party and ******** shut and take a hit Let the dogia explore your deepest mind terrains Got ya hooked like a crane invoking much pain Time is suffering people offering up sacrifices And claiming they just being nice for the right price They'll sell out they soul for few ounces of gold So you see what's happening blasting like rocket Coming for pockets of fake prophets once I'm set I'm a raging bull so ain't no stopppin' it Then next thing ya know I stare at the floor and the window My third eyes enlighten Thinking to myself I gotta go but I got buzz contact off that fake indo... Shaking my head looking at these young studs Laughing at em smokin'them fake budds
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23
I toed the ocean’s green. It took me to his face, a match in colors, his eyes and this water both hypnotizing, like a moth to a flame. But the sand was coarse unlike his smoothness, coat after creamy coat of membrane thin porous loveliness, to let him live and breathe. It looked unreal - him a doll,  and this sea a painting - ‘twas all too much beauty to encompass in one place, one body. That’s where balance storms in, for the water she roars she shouts and she tugs. His eyes tug too, at my heart. With matching habits they pull and smash me then carry me out till someone cares to find me.
0
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 11:09 AM UTC
inessrose
Untitled
I toed the ocean’s green. It took me to his face, a match in colors, his eyes and this water both hypnotizing, like a moth to a flame. But the sand was coarse unlike his smoothness, coat after creamy coat of membrane thin porous loveliness, to let him live and breathe. It looked unreal - him a doll,  and this sea a painting - ‘twas all too much beauty to encompass in one place, one body. That’s where balance storms in, for the water she roars she shouts and she tugs. His eyes tug too, at my heart. With matching habits they pull and smash me then carry me out till someone cares to find me.
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24
Verse 1 (Honey ******* ***** I'm Honey ******* bout to bring em some pain. All my haters like a choir, they all singin my name. Ain't got a heart for a broad that's the rule of the game. Now you a fool if you aim. Ill put a tool to ya brain. I'm bout to get it and spend it. If I said it, I meant it. #FuckYoFeelings. Taste my weapon. Act like a ***** Ill raise your blessings YOW You are not familiar with me. If you come makin a move, ***** yo visitor me Verse 2 (Tyga): Its that drop top phenom chop. All gold rolly top. **** yo fans, **** a cop. All my ******* Betty bop. Betty boop, ******* out. Gangsta **** punch you in yo mouth. ***** I don't know what you talkin bout. Flossin now you need dentist now Augh AUGH **** around and Rodney King the beat. Bout that war like Vietnamese. Feelin froggy ***** leap. I'm that ***** you obsolete. I'm in that game you know P-T R-E-C My Swa A-G. Only way you copying me ***** Augh Verse 3 (Honey ******* Asian ***** on another degree. Give me some space, move out my place, ***** I'm just tryna breath. Now if you, see me around your way don't holler at me. I just can't waste all my time cuz I be eatin these beats. Listen you rats here just a captain me. You ain't me homie you just act like me. Well you should watch yo actions please. Cuz there might be some casualties Augh augh They about to witness it. Last Kings but I'm still on my Queen **** SCHWAG Verse 4 (Tyga): Aim aim at yo membrane just for sayin I'm insane and your girl give me neck, Hang man. I ain't playin, I never did lie. Lay around and open yo thighs ****** gon pop like fish gonna fry Nggas talkin greasy like the sh*t got slide WOW High 5. Clap yo face. Change yo disguise, I work hard for the money. Money don't ever come in yo life. A ******* right. When you lie, everybody wanna be just like. Middle finger to the middle of yo eyes. Young young Ty T-Raw need a Heisman Aaaahh
0
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 12:06 PM UTC
Bunhead17
Heisman
Verse 1 (Honey ******* ***** I'm Honey ******* bout to bring em some pain. All my haters like a choir, they all singin my name. Ain't got a heart for a broad that's the rule of the game. Now you a fool if you aim. Ill put a tool to ya brain. I'm bout to get it and spend it. If I said it, I meant it. #FuckYoFeelings. Taste my weapon. Act like a ***** Ill raise your blessings YOW You are not familiar with me. If you come makin a move, ***** yo visitor me Verse 2 (Tyga): Its that drop top phenom chop. All gold rolly top. **** yo fans, **** a cop. All my ******* Betty bop. Betty boop, ******* out. Gangsta **** punch you in yo mouth. ***** I don't know what you talkin bout. Flossin now you need dentist now Augh AUGH **** around and Rodney King the beat. Bout that war like Vietnamese. Feelin froggy ***** leap. I'm that ***** you obsolete. I'm in that game you know P-T R-E-C My Swa A-G. Only way you copying me ***** Augh Verse 3 (Honey ******* Asian ***** on another degree. Give me some space, move out my place, ***** I'm just tryna breath. Now if you, see me around your way don't holler at me. I just can't waste all my time cuz I be eatin these beats. Listen you rats here just a captain me. You ain't me homie you just act like me. Well you should watch yo actions please. Cuz there might be some casualties Augh augh They about to witness it. Last Kings but I'm still on my Queen **** SCHWAG Verse 4 (Tyga): Aim aim at yo membrane just for sayin I'm insane and your girl give me neck, Hang man. I ain't playin, I never did lie. Lay around and open yo thighs ****** gon pop like fish gonna fry Nggas talkin greasy like the sh*t got slide WOW High 5. Clap yo face. Change yo disguise, I work hard for the money. Money don't ever come in yo life. A ******* right. When you lie, everybody wanna be just like. Middle finger to the middle of yo eyes. Young young Ty T-Raw need a Heisman Aaaahh
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48
That beautiful mind - what is she thinking? Is she thinking about you? Maybe it was about her summer? Maybe she hasn't thought things through? Her mind could be racing... Trying to finish her last thought Or maybe her brain ain't been the same Since her hearts been lost. Does she wonders about her future? Maybe reminisce about what's happened in her past... Thinking about loving me - but can she more so than her last? Her figment thought have her mind dancing in the moonlight - while she rises so high her feet can't touch the ground She's daydreaming about...nothing - nothing Just sleeping on a cloud. Simplicity fuels her membrane All while sleeping on a cloud. Said she's never coming down The earth is too vague - the city is way too loud Yeah My Darling daydream... But what's she thinking now?... As I move closer - whisper sweat nothings in her ear. Maybe she's thinking clear, this man I both adore and fear... One moment it's summer nights - next the cold winter snow What is she thinking? Guess I'll never really know Stares at me with her smile... But the clock never stops ticking Is she thinking that she's fulfilled love? Or does she wonder what's missing... Girl, let me into your beautiful mind Let me dive in and explore Let me see all your thoughts, your desires and so much more. And I wonder what's she thinking? My darling keeping on daydreaming. Imagine your heart filled with love Your soul full of meaning. Sleeping on her peaceful cloud. As she continues, daydreaming.
0
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 10:20 PM UTC
dougie-simps
"Her Mind"
That beautiful mind - what is she thinking? Is she thinking about you? Maybe it was about her summer? Maybe she hasn't thought things through? Her mind could be racing... Trying to finish her last thought Or maybe her brain ain't been the same Since her hearts been lost. Does she wonders about her future? Maybe reminisce about what's happened in her past... Thinking about loving me - but can she more so than her last? Her figment thought have her mind dancing in the moonlight - while she rises so high her feet can't touch the ground She's daydreaming about...nothing - nothing Just sleeping on a cloud. Simplicity fuels her membrane All while sleeping on a cloud. Said she's never coming down The earth is too vague - the city is way too loud Yeah My Darling daydream... But what's she thinking now?... As I move closer - whisper sweat nothings in her ear. Maybe she's thinking clear, this man I both adore and fear... One moment it's summer nights - next the cold winter snow What is she thinking? Guess I'll never really know Stares at me with her smile... But the clock never stops ticking Is she thinking that she's fulfilled love? Or does she wonder what's missing... Girl, let me into your beautiful mind Let me dive in and explore Let me see all your thoughts, your desires and so much more. And I wonder what's she thinking? My darling keeping on daydreaming. Imagine your heart filled with love Your soul full of meaning. Sleeping on her peaceful cloud. As she continues, daydreaming.
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39
Inspired by The Mars Volta Encased in, tubular, too much too fast, written again with music in the background! Screams now or be they babies?  Here it's more with talking, psychedelic naturally! Complete the creativity contract stingy stars stealin' popcorn RIPS, and I can feel it coming to me.  Groaning, rhyming with the rather outer despite the order AND GO! Build up, build up who wants a build up? Pause. Groove to me my Ukraine tartar! Make no sense, make it so hard you can't understand where it or was she GOING, go, go, go! Membrane skin saturate thy kin with separating spin so I can't fuckin' breathe! Correct my sins or be you scared to talk to pins though they your friends. The tack is in to lift paper from she and she can't see.  Are you a man or a mouse or anthropomorphic spouse of any of these fleeing an-i-mals?!  I find in the mirror myself and beer to drown the pain or discomforting disdain I can't quite get it right anymore therefore goodbye all truly universally bleeding.  I say goodbye to my past and won't come to grip with it!  GRIP your children's ears but it is you who doesn't want to hear.  You cover their eyes because of the size of daybreak rise!  Rise to the occasional borderline street sign between Inspired by Tool I will explode into the stars, become all of them, but all in sparkle of another's eye I can't rip this mind any further, or else it'll break and snap and slow-mo crack May, may, may, may you starve, breathe, sink, rise, steep, leap, creep into my parallel like a feeling Demented in this way due to you, the closest I'll ever get Five years, apparently not enough to forget Five years, without you Five years, and you still break into my dreams Five years
0
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
gabriel-peter-green
Brunette Corridor
Inspired by The Mars Volta Encased in, tubular, too much too fast, written again with music in the background! Screams now or be they babies?  Here it's more with talking, psychedelic naturally! Complete the creativity contract stingy stars stealin' popcorn RIPS, and I can feel it coming to me.  Groaning, rhyming with the rather outer despite the order AND GO! Build up, build up who wants a build up? Pause. Groove to me my Ukraine tartar! Make no sense, make it so hard you can't understand where it or was she GOING, go, go, go! Membrane skin saturate thy kin with separating spin so I can't fuckin' breathe! Correct my sins or be you scared to talk to pins though they your friends. The tack is in to lift paper from she and she can't see.  Are you a man or a mouse or anthropomorphic spouse of any of these fleeing an-i-mals?!  I find in the mirror myself and beer to drown the pain or discomforting disdain I can't quite get it right anymore therefore goodbye all truly universally bleeding.  I say goodbye to my past and won't come to grip with it!  GRIP your children's ears but it is you who doesn't want to hear.  You cover their eyes because of the size of daybreak rise!  Rise to the occasional borderline street sign between Inspired by Tool I will explode into the stars, become all of them, but all in sparkle of another's eye I can't rip this mind any further, or else it'll break and snap and slow-mo crack May, may, may, may you starve, breathe, sink, rise, steep, leap, creep into my parallel like a feeling Demented in this way due to you, the closest I'll ever get Five years, apparently not enough to forget Five years, without you Five years, and you still break into my dreams Five years
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14
My brainwaves have been blocked By self made walls of calloused membrane. Familiar. The sound is familiar. It's acidic in it's memory. It sits. Slowly eating away. Fresh waves flood through, Connecting brain thoughts With heartbeats. The acid stings. Burns. A fine frenzy. Candles. Cotton sheets. The acid eats away. Allowing the flood. But it offers relief, Soon eating up the flood That was ****** to begin with. It's all connected.
0
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 12:00 PM UTC
annie-dark
Cells.
My brainwaves have been blocked By self made walls of calloused membrane. Familiar. The sound is familiar. It's acidic in it's memory. It sits. Slowly eating away. Fresh waves flood through, Connecting brain thoughts With heartbeats. The acid stings. Burns. A fine frenzy. Candles. Cotton sheets. The acid eats away. Allowing the flood. But it offers relief, Soon eating up the flood That was ****** to begin with. It's all connected.
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19
In the wild You are left to consider graffiti disasters hatched from gypsy palates Vanished in music through spiders In a wilderness of orange viral light Moths push from the lips of willow switch Geishas who stargaze on Matrimonial black powder In our wilderness of birth the Name of Fire is swallowed by moths We are reborn in Geisha operas Over the embers of burned invention You sign the word for sand In a lamplight hem A voice skating chalk Points over pearl Its pitch wound in a white Arched wax arm Ticking the membrane In her submerged bell
0
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 1:36 PM UTC
mike-arms
In the wild
In the wild You are left to consider graffiti disasters hatched from gypsy palates Vanished in music through spiders In a wilderness of orange viral light Moths push from the lips of willow switch Geishas who stargaze on Matrimonial black powder In our wilderness of birth the Name of Fire is swallowed by moths We are reborn in Geisha operas Over the embers of burned invention You sign the word for sand In a lamplight hem A voice skating chalk Points over pearl Its pitch wound in a white Arched wax arm Ticking the membrane In her submerged bell
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20
Now all the years of continued appreciation and near awe is to be sweet mingled with burning tears Sugar cane can represent a lot of things to a lot of people and everyone has a different level of Understanding how much it really means and then you factor in the tender years the Age of Aquarius The coming of age standing in the sugar cane is one heck of a ride even greater with two wonderful People in the front driving a 56 two tone Chevy love was new it was all consuming even from the side View advantage when one projected a certain aura a mystique that was all of charm pure and simple Fantastic vibes the dark night had a deeper *********** and knowing cumbersome had this distillation it was one hundred proof it burned all the way charging changing you at deep levels the thing that over Years was always renewing itself year by year the world has a wonder about it she was and is part of it And always will be she was the sweet storm that could and did break every so often that would clear out The heat and aggravation that is part of your summer of youth she always spoke and stood for truth this Natural part of coming of age was developing in her character the very membrane of sugar cane I would Think truly she was the finest quality I think they call it private reserve that special one that grew alone but did all the richest sharing wait not in longing the true vine and stalk bears with preciseness to the need of the land we have that in abundance life twist and turns seems at times to reel out of control but Not so the divine hand holds the life steady all the days and then at harvest when they burn the sugar Cane what unattainable value is found and then only then it pours clearly and vital worth Unprecedented the gold separated from the dross is now possible for it to dwell and take its position Among the other Items of true glory this was created over protracted time with love and patience it Developed right before our eyes and a t times we knew it not but now we know fully well our profit pour Out the benefit what life transpired thank you savior for sugar cane we are in disbelief of such greatness in Our midst take care of it as only you can do !
0
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 7:05 PM UTC
hal-loyd-denton
Their harvesting the last of the sugar cane
Now all the years of continued appreciation and near awe is to be sweet mingled with burning tears Sugar cane can represent a lot of things to a lot of people and everyone has a different level of Understanding how much it really means and then you factor in the tender years the Age of Aquarius The coming of age standing in the sugar cane is one heck of a ride even greater with two wonderful People in the front driving a 56 two tone Chevy love was new it was all consuming even from the side View advantage when one projected a certain aura a mystique that was all of charm pure and simple Fantastic vibes the dark night had a deeper *********** and knowing cumbersome had this distillation it was one hundred proof it burned all the way charging changing you at deep levels the thing that over Years was always renewing itself year by year the world has a wonder about it she was and is part of it And always will be she was the sweet storm that could and did break every so often that would clear out The heat and aggravation that is part of your summer of youth she always spoke and stood for truth this Natural part of coming of age was developing in her character the very membrane of sugar cane I would Think truly she was the finest quality I think they call it private reserve that special one that grew alone but did all the richest sharing wait not in longing the true vine and stalk bears with preciseness to the need of the land we have that in abundance life twist and turns seems at times to reel out of control but Not so the divine hand holds the life steady all the days and then at harvest when they burn the sugar Cane what unattainable value is found and then only then it pours clearly and vital worth Unprecedented the gold separated from the dross is now possible for it to dwell and take its position Among the other Items of true glory this was created over protracted time with love and patience it Developed right before our eyes and a t times we knew it not but now we know fully well our profit pour Out the benefit what life transpired thank you savior for sugar cane we are in disbelief of such greatness in Our midst take care of it as only you can do !
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22
I hear a voice Screaching noise Is it in or outside my head? Is it mad? Is it sad? Is it my brain Or my heart that's dead? Well ill cut it out Slice it up Take it out to the back To the streets To the thugs Pass it off as **** Can you feel me? Can you hear me now? Ill shine my shoes and get my coat They'll never know Ill be on top Be a rock Be the star of the show. Am I experiencing reality yet? Well this is what Staying up til 5 am does Ive got an itch that I cant scratch Im covered in membrane and dust. Sharpin my knife Dont think twice Ill disect the top layer Take out the bad Leave the good But then there is Nothing there At all. Try to put It back in But it doesn't fit So ill serve it on a hot plate Let you take it all in. How's it taste? Whats it like? Don't ask the price. Is it hot? Does it burn? Does it stick to your tounge? You can't afford it anyway. You cant afford it anyway.
0
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
brandi-clark
if I was a cannibal, you're the only one I wouldn't eat
I hear a voice Screaching noise Is it in or outside my head? Is it mad? Is it sad? Is it my brain Or my heart that's dead? Well ill cut it out Slice it up Take it out to the back To the streets To the thugs Pass it off as **** Can you feel me? Can you hear me now? Ill shine my shoes and get my coat They'll never know Ill be on top Be a rock Be the star of the show. Am I experiencing reality yet? Well this is what Staying up til 5 am does Ive got an itch that I cant scratch Im covered in membrane and dust. Sharpin my knife Dont think twice Ill disect the top layer Take out the bad Leave the good But then there is Nothing there At all. Try to put It back in But it doesn't fit So ill serve it on a hot plate Let you take it all in. How's it taste? Whats it like? Don't ask the price. Is it hot? Does it burn? Does it stick to your tounge? You can't afford it anyway. You cant afford it anyway.
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47
Matrilineality is the tracing of descent through the female line corresponding to a societal system in which each person is identified with their matriline;              – their _mother's_ image – and which can involve the inheritance of property and/or titles. A matriline is                                      a line of descent from a common female ancestor to a descendant of either *** in which the individuals in all intervening                           generations are mothers – in other words, a "mother line". In matrilineal descent,                           individuals belong to the same group as their mother.                                                      The matriline of historical nobility was also called the _enatic_ or     _Uterine_ ancestry; From Middle English wombe, wambe, from Old English womb, wamb (“belly, stomach; bowels; heart; womb; hollow”), from Proto-Germanic *wambō (“belly, stomach, abdomen”), from Proto-Indo-European *wamp- (“membrane (of bowels), intestines, womb”). Cognate with Scots wam, wame (“womb”), Dutch wam (“dewlap of beef; belly of a fish”), German Wamme, Wampe (“paunch, belly”), Danish vom (“belly, paunch, rumen”), Swedish våmb (“belly, stomach, rumen”), Norwegian vomb (“belly”), Icelandic vömb (“belly, abdomen, stomach”),              Old Welsh gumbelauc (“womb”), Breton gwamm (“woman, wife”), Sanskrit वपा (vapā́, “the skin or membrane lining the intestines or parts of the viscera, the caul or omentum”).
0
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 10:37 PM UTC
johnny-noiπ
Matrilineality [for Uterinism]
Matrilineality is the tracing of descent through the female line corresponding to a societal system in which each person is identified with their matriline;              – their _mother's_ image – and which can involve the inheritance of property and/or titles. A matriline is                                      a line of descent from a common female ancestor to a descendant of either *** in which the individuals in all intervening                           generations are mothers – in other words, a "mother line". In matrilineal descent,                           individuals belong to the same group as their mother.                                                      The matriline of historical nobility was also called the _enatic_ or     _Uterine_ ancestry; From Middle English wombe, wambe, from Old English womb, wamb (“belly, stomach; bowels; heart; womb; hollow”), from Proto-Germanic *wambō (“belly, stomach, abdomen”), from Proto-Indo-European *wamp- (“membrane (of bowels), intestines, womb”). Cognate with Scots wam, wame (“womb”), Dutch wam (“dewlap of beef; belly of a fish”), German Wamme, Wampe (“paunch, belly”), Danish vom (“belly, paunch, rumen”), Swedish våmb (“belly, stomach, rumen”), Norwegian vomb (“belly”), Icelandic vömb (“belly, abdomen, stomach”),              Old Welsh gumbelauc (“womb”), Breton gwamm (“woman, wife”), Sanskrit वपा (vapā́, “the skin or membrane lining the intestines or parts of the viscera, the caul or omentum”).
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35
The wind rushes past meand the sun is so bright that I can’t see.What is this madness before me? Have I gone blind? Why can’t I see?The sounds of spring and the smell of rain,the poisons of technology permeate my brain.Have I gone insane in the membrane? Or it this a dream? I am a fiend for caffeine.You are the cure I need, the antidotes to the poisonous seed that infects me constantly. Sleep consumes me, this world I soon must leave.I am stronger than the leaves in a stiff summer breezeor in a hurricane, I am the roots that remain, to be reborn constantly.Like the phoenix I will rise towards the sky tonight.Up into the atmosphere I will rise up highpiercing through the starless night, flying like a butterflyfloating upon the breeze, with weightless eases I lay atop the trees.Why do the clouds fly by as if they are on a highway in the sky?Could they stop for a while, so I might bring one downto take a nap upon its bed of feathers made of air.I’ll climb the tallest tree, and jump out upon the sea,of cotton ***** of gas that float like a tumbling massof constantly moving poetry.I’ll nap atop the trees.2oo5-
0
Feb 21, 2010
Feb 21, 2010 at 9:48 AM UTC
charles-zachary-francis-xavier
Napping
The wind rushes past meand the sun is so bright that I can’t see.What is this madness before me? Have I gone blind? Why can’t I see?The sounds of spring and the smell of rain,the poisons of technology permeate my brain.Have I gone insane in the membrane? Or it this a dream? I am a fiend for caffeine.You are the cure I need, the antidotes to the poisonous seed that infects me constantly. Sleep consumes me, this world I soon must leave.I am stronger than the leaves in a stiff summer breezeor in a hurricane, I am the roots that remain, to be reborn constantly.Like the phoenix I will rise towards the sky tonight.Up into the atmosphere I will rise up highpiercing through the starless night, flying like a butterflyfloating upon the breeze, with weightless eases I lay atop the trees.Why do the clouds fly by as if they are on a highway in the sky?Could they stop for a while, so I might bring one downto take a nap upon its bed of feathers made of air.I’ll climb the tallest tree, and jump out upon the sea,of cotton ***** of gas that float like a tumbling massof constantly moving poetry.I’ll nap atop the trees.2oo5-
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1
Gaping valleys, Asylum-colored. Spaced enough to Let daytime prevail And to let horrors imagine themselves In the black lung membrane Of 3 a.m.
0
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 4:20 PM UTC
david-jm
Bedroom Blinds
Gaping valleys, Asylum-colored. Spaced enough to Let daytime prevail And to let horrors imagine themselves In the black lung membrane Of 3 a.m.
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7