Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Anais Vionet Apr 2022
We (Lisa, Leong and I) attended a cross-campus Health *** seminar the other day. I have to admit to some self-consciousness. I was worried that some professor would see us and judge - I still have some self-work to do. I’m fighting to be freer, to be well.

In an effort to destigmatize ***, they gave out vibrators - over a hundred in ten minutes - they ran out - there was a demand. That was pretty sic. I guess no one wants their dad to see a ******* charged on the family Amazon account (again).

Which got me thinking about how sexuality is different throughout the year - by season. Of course, this is the pandemic era. The last two freshmen classes have been the most isolated in history.

Which brings me to mask-crushes. Early on in the year, you may have had a crush on someone whose face you hadn’t actually seen. That girl mask-crushing on you might not think you’re as cute maskless but then maybe she’s not as hot either.

By the seasons. Admittedly, this is a cerebral look at a hot subject but I’ve asked this around and within my peer-group these are the agreed upon numbers.

Fall is when college began, summer tan lines were fading but the cafeteria was still full of summer stories. You were meeting new people or perhaps missing someone. You might have gotten a little flirty after you settled in. Still, temperatures were dropping and it was time to start covering up. ******* was recommended as the safe pandemic alternative but in some cases, new freedoms were too much to resist. ******* - 9, hookups - 1

In Winter things really slowed down, we got out even less and classes got grimly serious. There was a seasonal effect to the darkness. Of course, we needed to stay warm and maybe we cuddled up more. We’d met people by then and hookups happened but usually within our own social groups. ******* - 7, hookups - 3

Spring came in with a sneeze as the world brightened and those thoughtless plants pollinated. It was almost shocking to see how many people there were on campus. You tend to forget how many are around because everyone was sheltering or using the tunnel system. There were chances, on nice days, to get out and have fun again - just as those clothing layers started coming off. ******* - 5, hookups - 5

Then there’s summer - in my experience, summer sexuality is different - everyone’s freer, less stressed, the clothes are thinner, smaller and more revealing. The world is greener, brighter and hotter. Everyone’s making their critical summer decisions now. Some people I’ve talked to can’t wait to go home and get laid - not me - but some pretty explicit plans have been laid out around here. ******* - 3, hookups - 7

What are your ratings?
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Cerebral: intellectual in nature.
Alaina Moore Mar 2013
Some chemical influences are necessary.
Experimentation is mandatory.

Skim the syllabus and you will see,
MDMA is chapter three.
Hemp is the strongest ****,
At least that's what I learned in Botany.

Biology came as quite a shock,
When the plants pulled out their *****.
English came as such a breeze,
The Diazepam brought poetry bees.

They pollinated the dopamine receptor,
Which greatly impressed my psychology professor.  
When the zombies rose for dead weeks droll,
Adderall and Vyvanse kept us cool.

There's always a place in the Union Bathroom stall
To do a dome some Coke before study hall.
Of all the girls in my dorm floor
Roxy and Molly were just next door.

Art history wasn't the most entertaining,
Until Absinth was my painting water.
Finals were such a stress, so I'll admit
We laced our gin shots with Xanex.  

College was an experience, I'll admit,
But Chemistry got me on the DEAn'S list.
This is more of an articulation of college stereotypes and actualities and in no way reflex my own personal experiences.
Mattrick Patrick Mar 2015
The pimple faced gernment representative told me
I had to hold my pollinated dreams until
next season.

And in my school house dream
matthew told me his dream
nothing less than Sustainable Planet

And as I started to argue, I realized,
my mouth was full of seasoned nuts
full of warehoused food,

because I could not attend
lunch, at this newly packed cafeteria;
I was on a mission to... I forget now
but in my dream it was **** important!

Now that I'm awake, trying to write a poem
that captures the meaning
all I can tell you, as you read my heart
is that no one can tell you when to start
caring about your dreams.

Get on your moral high ground and shout out to the world
"I'm MAD as HELL and I'm NOT gonna TAKE it ANYMORE!"

And unless you get knocked off your high horse
and unless you find your voice dry, horse,  
don't stop yelling until others join you--
because they will join you. We all want freedom
We all want the dream, but will we fight for it
to make it happen? Would you fight for love,
For life?? Would you fight for survival?

This is it, its this or oblivion, its sustain our childish
fever of consumption,
level out our infantile pride or
rest quietly into forever.

They say sustainability is what were after
but what we really mean is sanity;
they say rational policy is what were after
but really what we mean is enlightenment.

I'm asking you to change the wheel of your mind
and your asking me to hold my order until the window!
Can I have fries with that?
Make it a KING sized!
**** your frizzy fries, and your listless orders,
I want none of them, give me liberty or give me DEATH!
I hope you enjoyed the read. I enjoyed the stream of consciousness.
SassyJ Feb 2016
Hypotonic collusions
Rising in osmotic lesions
An eruptive soul reversion

Emissions of embered logs
Each lightening with a glow
A youthful straw of clemency

Pollinated sandals, handled
Gripping the flesh in vessels
Houses of lost and unreal dreams

Vicarage gardens of suppression
Masticated in delegated abstractions
A surmise of death and redistributions

Each a beat rise, slide on frosty ice
Un-enveloped in seasons of erosion
Delusional commotions sprawled

In the dance of the ecstatic programming
The body waved and led in hypnosis
******* with the intangible essence

To make sense a revised tense,I fence
Straying in lenient lunacy to fields afar
A merry to ferry the phoenix dance

Rattles shaking in transit translations
Drums pause settling in finesse pond
A coitus of dimensional valour and vice
glass can Jun 2013
plants do not require papers that state from where they came

they are caught and pulled by the bite of birds,
        seduced by the between-legs of bees,
            seized on the legs of the wind and animals by thistles and burrs

and the blessed are pollinated by the hummingbird

I do not know where I came from (really?) (really.)

or where nature and nurture intertwine within me, precarious balance from discipline and my genes

I twist bunches of grass between my fingers, feeling the good in a strain

racked on top of white bones, pushing sheets of freckled skin
out, spreading cancerous aluminums under my arms because
an artificial flower smells better during *** than human sweat,

what a pity, we are unable to reveal with the bursts of Walt Whitman (!) in
our own organic mechanism's ability to produce salt. The ultimate flavor.

I grin. Inhaling deeply while alone and unwashed, Whitman would've been into it.
Maybe I can find someone into it too. Someone who'll read me Henry Miller.

But instead I'll wear expensive perfume. I grin, again. Sardonically.

And I've been told I have a beautiful smile.
I should,
that smile cost blood and five grand for something cosmetic and quirky,
train-tracks over teeth, I now stain yellow with obsolete cigarettes.

I wait in the tropical heat, languishing while I bake, a freckle factory
and tan--adrift--awash with memories recalled by the smell of green
and the fearful hum of bees.

Why did I start smoking again?

I look at the red hummingbird feeder, and wish I could trade
          
             standing still as a hummingbird, I lie and say I cannot wait.
Molecules of two elements, nitrogen and oxygen, comprise about 99 percent of the air. The remaining hoity toity 1% includes small amounts celestial seasoning luxurious riches as argon and carbon dioxide. (Other gases such as neon, helium, and methane are present in trace amounts.) Oxygen is the life-giving element in the air.

Earth's atmosphere is 78% nitrogen, 21% oxygen, 0.9% argon, and 0.03% carbon dioxide with very small percentages of other elements. Our atmosphere also contains water vapor. In addition, Earth's atmosphere contains traces of dust particles, pollen, plant grains and other solid particles.

Even when the air seems to be completely clear, it is full of atmospheric particles - invisible solid and semisolid bits of matter, including dust, smoke, pollen, spores, bacteria and viruses. Some atmospheric particles are so large that you will feel them if they strike you. However, particles this large rarely travel far before they fall to the ground. Finer particles may be carried many miles before settling during a lull in the wind, while still tinier specks may remain suspended in the air indefinitely. The finest particles are jostled this way and that by moving air molecules and drift with the slightest currents. Only rain and snow can wash them out of the atmosphere. These tiny particles are so small that scientists measure their dimensions in microns - a micron is about one 25-thousandth of an inch. They include pollen grains, whose diameters are sometimes less than 25 microns; bacteria, which range from about 2 to 30 microns across; individual virus particles, measuring a very small fraction of a micron; and carbon smoke particles, which may be as tiny as two hundredths of a micron.

Particles are frequently found in concentrations of more than a million per cubic inch of air. A human being's daily intake of air is about 450,000 cubic inches. This means that we inhale an astronomical numbers of foreign bodies. Particles larger than about 5 microns are generally filtered from the air in the nasal passages. Other large particles are caught by hairlike protuberances in the air passages leading to the lungs and are swept back toward the mouth. Most of the extremely fine particles that do reach the lungs are exhaled again - although some of this matter is deposited in the minute air sacs within the lungs. From these air sacs, particles may go into solution and pass through the lung walls into the bloodstream. If the material is toxic, harmful reactions may occur when it enters the blood. Fine particles retained in the lungs can cause permanent tissue damage, as with Coal workers' pneumoconiosis (black lung disease), caused by buildup of coal dust in the lungs, and with silicosis, which is caused by the buildup of silicon dust.

If the air is still, given sufficient time, all but the smallest airborne particles will settle to the ground under their own weight. Their rate of fall is closely proportional to particle size and density.
For example, vast amounts of fine volcanic ash were thrown into the air by the eruption of the Indonesian volcano Krakatoa, in 1883, and again by the Alaskan volcano Katmai, in 1912. In both instances, the finer dust reached the stratosphere and spread around the world high above the rains and storms that tend to cleanse the lower atmosphere. In fact, many years elapsed before these volcanic dusts entirely disappeared from the atmosphere. Since a two-micron dust particle may require about four years to fall 17 miles in the atmosphere, the lingering effect is not in the least surprising.
Dust storms are also prolific producers of airborne debris. Europe is sometimes showered with dust originating in the Sahara. In March 1901, for instance, an estimated total of two million tons of Sahara dust fell on North Africa and the Europe. Two years later, in February 1903, Britain received a deposit estimated at ten million tons. On many occasions, Sahara dust has fallen in muddy rain and reddish snow over much of southwestern Europe. During North America's droughts of the 1930s, dust storms blew ten million tons of dust at a time aloft in the heart of the continent. Occasionally, high winds swept the dust eastward 1800 miles to darken skies along the continent's Atlantic coast.

When the wind strikes the crest of an ocean wave, or a calm sea is agitated by rain or by air bubbles bursting at the surface, the finer droplets that enter the air quickly evaporate, leaving tiny salt crystals suspended in the air. Winds carry these salt crystals over all the Earth. Normally, airborne salt particles from the sea are less than a micron in diameter. It would take a million of them to weigh a pound.
Salt particles play an important part in weather processes because they are hygroscopic - they absorb water. Raindrops usually form around tiny particles that act as nuclei for condensation. Generally, each fog and cloud droplet also collects around a particle of some type at its center. Tiny crystals of sea salt make better condensation nuclei than other natural particles found in the air. Thus, salt particles in the air help make rain.

Dust from meteor showers may occasionally affect world rainfall. When the Earth encounters a swarm of meteors, those meteors that get to the upper reaches of the Earth's atmosphere are vaporized by heat from friction. The resulting debris is a fine smoke or powder. This fine dust then floats down into the cloud system of the lower atmosphere, where it can readily serve as nuclei around which ice crystals or raindrops can form. Increases in world rainfall come about a month after the Earth encounters meteor systems in space. The delay of a month allows sufficient time for the meteoric dust to fall through the upper atmosphere. Occasionally, large meteors leave visible trains of dust. Most often their trails disappear rapidly, but in a few witnessed cases a wake of dust has remained visible for an hour or so.
In one extreme instance-a great meteor that broke up in the sky over Siberia in 1908-the dust cloud traveled all the way around the world before it dissipated.

Large forest fires are among the more spectacular producers of foreign particles in the atmosphere.
Because these fires create violent updrafts, smoke particles are carried to great heights, and, being small, are spread over vast distances by high altitude winds. In the autumn of 1950, forest fires in Alberta, Canada produced smoke that drifted east over North America on the prevailing wind and crossed the North Atlantic, reaching Britain and continental Europe. The light-scattering properties of this dense smoke made the Sun look indigo and the Moon blue to observers in Scotland and other northern lands.

Wind-pollinated plants are the most prolific sources of foreign particles in the air. This is a problem for people with allergies.

Spores are closely related to pollens. Spores are the reproductive bodies of fungi, which include molds, yeasts, rusts, mildews, puffballs and mushrooms. Tiny spores are adrift everywhere in the air, even over the oceans. Although they resemble pollens in general appearance, spores are not fertilizing agents. Instead, they are like seeds, and give rise to new organisms wherever they take hold. Spores have been found as high as 14 miles in the air over the entire globe. Most fungi depend on the wind for spore dissemination. Once airborne, spores are carried easily by the slightest air currents.

Once, physicians were taught that infectious microorganisms quickly settle out of the air and die. Today, the droplets ejected, say, by a sneeze, are known to evaporate almost immediately, leaving whatever microorganisms they contain to drift through the air. Only a relatively small fraction of microorganism’s human beings breathe cause disease. In fact, most bacteria are actually helpful. Some, for example, convert atmospheric nitrogen into usable plant food. Pathogenic, or disease-producing, microorganisms, however, can be very dangerous. Most propagate by subdivision-each living cell splits into two cells. Each of the new cells then grows and divides again into two more cells. Provided with ideal conditions, populations multiply quickly. Fortunately microorganisms do not thrive very well in the air. Unless there is enough humidity in the air, many desiccate and die. Short exposure to the ultraviolet radiation of the Sun also kills most microorganisms. Low temperatures greatly decrease their activity, and elevated temperatures destroy them rapidly. Still, many microorganisms survive in the air, despite these hazards. Among the tiniest of airborne particles are viruses, which are on the borderline between living matter and lifeless chemical substances.

Earth is the only planet we know of that can support life. This is an amazing fact, considering that it is made out of the same matter as other planets in our solar system, was formed at the same time and through the same processes as every other planet, and gets its energy from the sun. To a universal traveler, Earth may seem to be a harmless little planet in the far reaches of one of billions of spiral galaxies in the universe. It has an average size star of average brightness and is joined by seven other planets — which support no known life forms — in its solar system. While this may be fitting for a passage from The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams, in the grand scheme of the universe, it would be a fairly accurate description. However, Earth is a planet teeming with vitality and is home to billions of plants and animals that share a common evolutionary track. How and why did we get here? What processes had to take place for this to happen? And where do we go from here? The fact is, no one has been able to come close to knowing exactly what led to the origins of life, and we may never know. After 5 billion years of Earth’s formation and evolution, the evidence may have been lost. But scientists have made significant progress in understanding what chemical processes that may have led to the origins of life. There are many theories, but most have the same general perspective of how things came to be the way they are. Following is an account of life’s beginnings based on some of the leading research and theories related to the subject, and of course, fossil records dating back as far as 3.5 billion years ago.

The solar system was created from gas clouds and dust that remained from the Sun's formation some 6-7 billion years ago. This material contained only about .2% of the solar system's mass with the Sun holding the rest. Earth began to form over 4.6 billion years ago from the same cloud of gas (mostly hydrogen and helium) and interstellar dust that formed our sun, the rest of the solar system and even our galaxy. In fact, Earth is still forming and cooling from the galactic implosion that created the other stars and planetary systems in our galaxy. This process began about 13.6 billion years ago when the Milky Way Galaxy began to form. As our solar system began to come together, the sun formed within a cloud of dust and gas that continued to shrink in upon itself by its own gravitational forces. This caused it to undergo the fusion process and give off light, heat and other radiation. During this process, the remaining clouds of gas and dust that surrounded the sun began to form into smaller lumps called planetesimals, which eventually formed into the planets we know today.

A large number of small objects, called planetesimals, began to form around the Sun early in the formation of the solar system. These objects were the building blocks for the planets that exist today. The Earth went through a period of catastrophic and intense formation during its earliest beginnings 4.6-4.4 billion years ago. By 3.8 to 4.1 billion years ago, Earth had become a planet with an atmosphere (not like our atmosphere today) and an ocean. This period of Earth’s formation is referred to as the Precambrian Period. The Precambrian is divided into three parts: the Hadean, Archean and Proterozoic Periods.

The Earth formed under so much heat and pressure that it formed as a molten planet. For nearly the first billion years of formation (4.5 to 3.8 billion years ago) — called the Hadean Period (or hellish period) — Earth was bombarded continuously by the remnants of the dust and debris — like asteroids, meteors and comets — until it formed into a solid sphere, pulled into orbit around the sun and began to cool down. Earth's early atmosphere most likely resembled that of Jupiter's atmosphere, which contains hydrogen, helium, methane and ammonia, and is poisonous to humans. (Photo: NASA, from Voyager 1). As Earth began to take solid form, it had no free oxygen in its atmosphere. It was so hot that the water droplets in its atmosphere could not settle to form surface water or ice. Its first atmosphere was also so poisonous, comprised of helium and hydrogen, that nothing would have been able to survive.
Earth’s second atmosphere was formed mostly from the outgassing of such volatile compounds as water vapor, carbon monoxide, methane, ammonia, nitrogen, carbon dioxide, nitrogen, hydrochloric acid and sulfur produced by the constant volcanic eruptions that besieged the Earth. It had no free oxygen. About 4.1 billion years ago, the Earth’s surface — or crust — began to cool and stabilize, creating the solid surface with its rocky terrain. Clouds formed as the Earth began to cool, producing enormous volumes of rainwater that formed the oceans. For the next 1.3 billion years (3.8 to 2.5 billion years ago), the Archean Period, first life began to appear and the world’s land masses began to form. Earth’s initial life forms were bacteria, which could survive in the highly toxic atmosphere that existed during this time. Toward the end of the Archean Period and at the beginning of the Proterozoic Period, about 2.5 billion years ago, oxygen-forming photosynthesis began to occur. The first fossils were a type of blue-green algae that could photosynthesize.

Earth's atmosphere was first supplied by the gasses expelled from the massive volcanic eruptions of the Hadean Era. These gases were so poisonous, and the world was so hot, that nothing could survive. As the planet began to cool, its surface solidified as a rocky terrain, much like Mars' surface (center photo) and the oceans began to form as the water vapor condensed into rain. First life came from the oceans. Some of the most exciting events in Earth’s history and life occurred during this time, which spanned about two billion years until about 550 million years ago. The continents began to form and stabilize, creating the supercontinent Rodinia about 1.2 billion years ago. Although Rodinia is composed of some of the same land fragments as the more popular supercontinent, Pangea, they are two different supercontinents. Pangea formed some 225 million years ago and would evolve into the seven continents we know today. Free oxygen began to build up around the middle of the Proterozoic Period — around 1.8 billion years ago — and made way for the emergence of life as we know it today. This increased oxygen created conditions that would not allow most of the existing life to survive and thus made way for the more oxygen-dependent life forms. By the end of the Proterozoic Period, Earth was well along in its evolutionary processes leading to our current period, the Holocene Period,  or Anthropocene Period, also known as the Age of Man. Thus, about 525 million years ago, the Cambrian Period began. During this period, life “exploded,” developing almost all of the major groups of plants and animals in a relatively short time. It ended with the massive extinction of most of the existing species about 500 million years ago, making room for the future appearance and evolution of new plant and animal species. About 498 million years later — 2.2 million years ago — the first modern human species emerged.

Did You Know? The first modern human being was called **** habilis, the first of the **** genus. This species developed stone tools for use in daily life. **** habilis means “Handy Man.” He existed from about 2.2 to 1.5 million years ago. There are earlier species related to modern man, called hominids. The images show the skull shape and probable appearance of **** habilis.

The PreCambrian Period — accounts for about 90 percent of Earth’s history. It lasted for about four billion years until about 550 million years ago. About 70 percent of the world’s land masses were created in the Archean Era, between 3.8 and 2.5 million years ago. Rodinia, widely recognized as the first supercontinent, formed during the Proterozoic Era, about 2.5 billion years ago. It is believed that the oldest human family member was discovered in Ethiopia and lived 4.4 million years ago. It was named “Ardi,” short for Ardipithecus ramidus.
The Starship Galaxy III came in
To land in a farmer’s field,
There wasn’t much of a barley crop
For the seed had failed to yield,
The city lay just a mile away
In a glow of flashing lights,
‘I wonder how they manage to sleep,’
Said the Captain, Arzen Kytes.

They’d travelled across the universe
In a push through hyper space,
For seven years at the speed of light
In a bid to seek and trace,
They’d followed the trail of radio waves
From near to a distant sun,
And ended up in the Milky Way
Where the sounds were coming from.

‘There has to be life out there,’ they’d said,
‘We’re surely not alone,
We’ll send a mission to check them out,
To see what they’re like at home,
They must have a crude technology
To be able to transmit,’
And now in sight of the city lights
They were on the verge of it.

‘There’s oxygen in the air out there,
It’s much the same as home,
It’s safe to send out a party in
The seven seater drone,
So under the Captain, Arzen Kytes
They flew to a city square,
But the skyscrapers were neglected
And the weeds were thick out there.

They roamed through many department stores
Now empty of displays,
And passed by stores that were boarded up,
‘This town’s seen better days!’
Nobody walked the city streets
And the Captain shook his head,
‘Whatever happened to bring them down,
It looks like they’re all dead!’

But then in an old computer shop
They saw a sign of life,
A dozen or so of bobbing heads,
An old man and his wife,
But nobody said a single word
Or looked when they came in,
But kept on pushing the buttons of
Some tool that glowed within.

The old man opened his mouth and spoke,
‘You’re not from round these parts.
I saw the flivver you just flew in,
We’re back to the horse and cart.
This generation is not so bright,
They don’t know how to speak,
The gift of language has passed them by
Now all that they do is tweet.’

‘When most of the population died
With famine, came disease,
The crops were genetically modified
And killed off all the bees,
So nothing is pollinated now
But the bit we do by hand,
It wasn’t enough to save the world
From the greed that ruined the land.’

‘But what about all the city lights,
They’re flashing still, in truth!’
‘Everything came with flashing lights
To hypnotise our youth.
We may get help from a distant star
If they see them flash in space,
But once the power goes off, we’ll see
The end of the human race.’

The Captain of the Galaxy III
Flew back to board his ship,
When questioned by the rest of the crew
He frowned, and bit his lip,
‘There’s signs of a civilisation here
But they’ve let it go to seed,’
And smiled at the gentle irony,
‘The fools gave in to greed!’

David Lewis Paget
Tony Scallo Nov 2014
Three years ago, standing in the garden of life, a butterfly landed perfectly in my hands. It flew from above and behind me, gracefully hovering itself down as if it were landing on a surface that might be unstable for its fragile little legs.

Slowly descending closer to my hands, I felt its feet graze the surface of my skin like it was testing out the waters of my spirit.

Fluttering over my hands, it kept its wings at metronome-like tempo, and my heart began to follow the same rhythm. It was almost like seeing a butterfly for the first time in my life.

Although I knew there were other ones out there, I admired everything about this butterfly like it was the only one in the world that mattered.

I couldn’t speak butterfly at the time, but I immediately relaxed my hands to show I was not something to fear. She trusted me and settled herself right in the middle of my openly cupped palms.

She was beautiful, from the scars on her wings to the subtle shades of brown that streaked down the tattered edges of them. All the markings on her were like a canvas, showing me the stories that now explained why she was uneasy about landing on me so quick.

I wanted nothing more than to take away the pain that she suffered and nurse her back to the amazing colors I saw beyond the scars of her wings. It might of been the way she looked at me with those eyes, or maybe it was the way I felt when she walked on my skin as if she were inside of it. I definitely knew one thing though, I would do anything for her.

I planted the best roses and lilies in my garden, always giving her a reason to come back. She craved to breathe in the aura of my being like it was purer than the pollen of a red rose.

Anytime she landed on me now, there was never hesitation. She pollinated me with all the ideas she took from the flowers she’s journeyed on throughout life. We mutually connected, almost as if she had been living in my garden all my life.

Her addiction to me had attracted my attention like no other, and I fell in love with the way we grew. I felt my cupped hands close a little more while I held her now.

Her scars started to fade with time, and just like I thought, the colors that existed beneath them were captivating. She flew around my garden and spread the wings, that had once been torn, with the confidence of a bird that committed itself to soar the skies beyond. I was happy to know that I had helped push this butterfly back into the world, but I also felt my cupped hands close a little more while I held her now.

Every time she was gone and growing, I waited so eagerly for her return to see the new stories her wings told. They grew even stronger then from how I had once seen them before, and flourished with vibrant colors. It was amazing; I was completely infatuated with watching her grow. I felt my hands close a little tighter while I held her now.

She was mine. I had never felt so good about myself before and maybe I began to take her for granted. I stopped planting flowers in my garden and neglected to water the ones that always brought her back. My garden dried up, and the sight of it didn’t even make me flinch. I was too enveloped in watching a pretty sight like her fly around.

There were no more plants growing anymore, no more new seeds planted or new flowers to explore. It was all dead. Al I cared about was her story, her presence and her legacy. She was all I had.

There was little for her to delight in anymore, but I guess I didn’t notice.  Her wings fluttered sadly, and I felt my hands close a little more while I held her, now completely cutting her off from spreading her wings.

She didn’t feel free any more. Instead of nurturing the garden we used to love exploring together, I made my hands a prison to keep her from flying away from me. The thought that she would prefer another hand or another garden ate at me. I wanted her all to myself. By the time I realized I was wrong, she had flown away for good.

I have been working on my garden ever since. If she ever returns, she’ll be pleased to see it’s the best it’s ever been.
We are all gardeners to our minds. Gardeners for our thoughts. We plant as many seeds within our minds as we can, and nurture them into the beautiful ideas they become throughout our lives that make us up. They must always be taken care of. May we never be too enveloped by the beauties that come into our garden at times. If we do, we may forget the work that needs to be done in our own gardens to keep them healthy. The ones that were so taken care of to begin with, that made those things attracted to you in the first place. Never forget to nurture your mind, don't spend your whole life in awe of something else. If your garden stops growing, so will you; and when you do, others notice too.
Payton Hayes Mar 2021
Night flower blossoming
Beneath the summer sky
Petal parasols unfurling
Throughout June and July

She was born under the moon
Nocturnal butterfly
Pollinated by pale moths
To live one day then die

Moonflower blooms in warmth
Her short season’s end nigh
Shriveling once the frost sets in
And conceding to the ice

Moonblossom rich in scent
A true pleasure to stand by
Her short-lived sweet fragrance
Would all surely vivify
This poem was written in 2020.
Brycical Feb 2014
The time’s may have changed,
days aged our bodies
but you are still wholly
yourself, only more
magnanimously
magical, which says
something, because
your oeuvre was such
already.

An aged wine of light
shining like sacred
grapes made of quartz in
the field’s center.
I remember when
you guided me to
the fox. I can still
remember when you
were sprouting—

sacred knowledge to
me in the back of
the school bus. But now…
dots are connecting,
I’m remembering
my fire ether
name. Your knowledge had  
pollinated me—
sure took time

to take root, and ferment,
but now it is
a very good year.  
It’s time to uncork!
A party army
awaits, clad in such
an iridescent
armor armed only
with <3 - shaped  fire

on torches, ready
to burn down rotten
rickety aged
bridges built of dead
green ink-stained wood, all
converging on a
barren cliff so we
may ignite skies and
shine in darkness.
Wrote this a month ago, not sure why I haven't shared it yet.

Was inspired after visiting the newfound family of possibly my oldest friend whom I still share limited contact. How limited? We haven't spoken save for a very brief phone call in almost 9 years.
Paddy Martin Jan 2011
The butterfly and the bee pollinate,
the unknown flower of memory,
then fly off through the gaps,
of the spiders web into the blackness,
of the vast midnight of the mind.

Words shower down into a torrent,
that falls upon a bewildered numbness,
remaining incoherent, they flow on,
into the stream where perhaps a child,
will gather them and weave them into a melody.

Slowly the poet slides away, unnoticed,
into the mist of time and unconsciousness,
Hidden deep within the flower bed of memory.
an unknown flower not yet pollinated,
still waiting in the realm of the midnight darkness.

In the childs mind the sun shines brightly,
as she brushes the words she has taken,
from the stream of life, with the days light,
The poet breathes, renewed and alive.
so it is in the universal garden of life.
(c) 14 January 2011
Colleen Lyons Jun 2015
Crooked, brick teeth behind
a curled, silly smile

Brown, glazed irises swimming in
blood-shot eyes

Smoky hair, thick on top,
more wispy as it descends

but dense as a forest the hair
that hides your sycamore

when you're not using it
to haunt the young.

Betraying your lusts,
you mixed your sycamore

with a full-bloom *****
and brought me to be--

The white skin and purple hues
of my mother

cannot hide that I am
of the monster.

Dare I, half-*****, half-sycamonster
in my full bloom,

become pollinated by
the quaking aspen,

so we may risk bringing to be
another haunter of child's dreams,

or return to the earth,
never knowing who could be?
A Lopez Aug 2015
As a bee

To a petal ready to be infected

He stung

As the juice inside me got injected

P
   O
       L
          L
             I
               N
             A
          T
     E
D
JL May 2013
I'm the worm
On the sidewalk dying
Starving
I crave the *****
Like an apple core
In the trash can
Postmortem
I split my cocoon
Tasting with my tongue
Her Sweet smeared pollinated petal
Eyelashes like monster claws between the closet door crack
Skin pale perfect corpse
A form of higher evolution
Curves geometrically perfect
Dramatacized in black and white
I put up a good fight
Slice me apart with my own strengths
A slip of the tounge against my weakness
She told me
"Never."
She gives no satisfaction
Gone before the streetlights
Turn off
I don't want you
To leave again
Stay awhile
Stick your fingers in my bullet wounds
Whisper in my ear
Your fears
So I can play with them
Evacuate
Her particles slipping through the air vents
Dancing in the silllia of my lungs
The star in her belly
I warm my hands near the flame
Playing her game
Until I'm burnt
Madeysin May 2015
Perpetuate flyers, flowers minding their own business. The armed farmer grows his crops, unnaturally, factory wise. Genetically mutated agriculturally roasted. Mitosis, weeds stem cells. Winding blows back & forth. Back peddle into hardwood flooring. The view is great up here, giant machinery pretending to be trees. Hack the life out of bees, pollinated keepers keep secrets cause they're killers. These two eyes, see through me back to you.
Ohhhhhhhh myyyyy
onlylovepoetry Nov 2016
(I) Love Thy Neighbor As Thy
self

~

how I would
honor this with
joy effervescent,
this simplest of methodologies

if only I,
could permission myself
to love myself

if only I,
knew
how to love


~~

(II) redemption: the city of man reinventing himself

busting bursting, this city,
ceaseless change,
old discardation,
how blind am I,
skyscrapers built in a day
how have I failed to notice

the estate changes
a master plan unknown,
the reasoned limits ever stretched.
in defiance of taste and sense,
obedient to Babel tower's net-result,
the miscegenation of language

but this is a ruse issue,
an example of me/man,
this new born spawn,
a wagging tail of

a man I know,
a failed inventor,
nary a patent
to his name

years on years
he patiently awaits
for one true inspiration
a redefinition, a redemption,
a reinvention, a new cornerstone
to lay upon it a new foundation

just a clue, a single block,
he can clean erase
start over, inaugurate
a recommencement celebration
to  begin the same mistakes

here be the rub,
the irritation,
the seed comes implanted
and then
wind spread
can be only repaired, replaced
when cross pollinated

with the love of a foreign body
and his only crime, love poetry,
his crime alone, for unopened
it, and he, both-awaiting the time
when others come impatient

to bulldoze him aside

~~~

(III) Three

three

an oddity
an uneven symmetrical imagery


"only love poetry"

a three sum,
- three legged stool-

there is nothing new under the sun,
whispers the Psalmist


this I whisper
only, alone, one,
be no such!



only love poetry
until


~~~~


postscript

*if only I,
knew
how to love
Paige Miller Jun 2012
You have been potted in fear
but bloomed in adversity,
spreading seeds of hope.
You cross pollinated with justice
and differentiated
between equity and equality.
zebra Aug 2019
i'm unwinding my head
on
honey moon belly
******* carnivorous lozenges
falling in love with glazed
eye ball devils
hypnotic stare

destination
a tunnel of fiendish odysseys

blood drooling eel
vomits gush white
daddy long leg threads
in honeys wet cage
to wither
writhing spit hot
in fat muscle and bone
headless
head first
like a mindless falcon
after scattered mice

i feel her teeth tearing
syringes of ecstasy
ransacking swollen motion spirals
and ***** like bronz buckaroos
at a fancy pool party
crimson *** macabre
****** roast bon bon fire

licking her lump of desire
a rousing boogyman sermon
speaks in incinerating tongues
swallowing a hideous parfait

**** growl
girl squat
**** ****
mint julip throat
choke symphony
abducting lascivious pollinated gulps

take me in like reckless bull sap
through your red
dada warp land
pit of the brain
undulant flesh landscape
of shapeless ovule spume
mouthing night blows

Incised flagellation's
devour buffet spread maiden derelict
arched and trembling
drunk and drugged
like a buttermilk sky
groaning hysterical
in feral muck stained beds 
of puce and slime ochre pigments 

stunned umbra
a famished
deep veined jutting peninsula
longing for princess ***** dynasties
with vast thighs radiating inferno hearths
and rolling hill **** hieroglyphics
decipher rug pugilist lap songs

my goddess i long for your
bruised fruit
crawling like the dead of night
on pitch vanta shadows
where love becomes a savage
**** manga anime
JDK Nov 2014
Hear me two twelves and I've displaced my shirt.
Pollinated four elves with crystallized dirt.
Syllables betray what a symbol is worth.
Twenty metaphors plus five ****** make three kinds of birth.

Crease in a place where no grease can escape.
Forty times corduroy equals one face.
Applied nine seasons to spice up the taste.
Cardboard ate silicone then left in great haste.

I know that these words don't make any sense.
The greater cost of my mind has already been spent.
Somewhere between Easter and the beginning of Lent.
Jesus Christ threw a fit when I couldn't pay rent.

Caved in on the heads of the poor in a mine.
They'll eat it as long as it's in common time.
This line is just filler to set up the last rhyme,
but **** that ****;
I'm a nonconformist.
If you like this then I'll judge you.
ED Aug 2015
The first time I tripped,
It was over the shoe laces
of a boy with hazel eyes
and Venus fly trap lashes.

When he laughed,
I saw a thousand butterflies
leave his mouth
like a confetti explosion.

Captivated by this winged downpour,
I sought to release every single butterfly
from the cages of his ribs;
Until they filled the spaces of grey planes,
which followed every cynic’s footsteps,
and pollinated every flower
of a dying breed.

My world became a kaleidoscope
of time and colour
where I could no longer distinguish
sunrise from sunset.

Careless of the clock’s limit,
I took its hand and spun circles
within the butterfly boy’s garden
foolishly forgetting
that neither butterfly nor boy
were creatures for all seasons.

So when the first red drop of tomorrow
fell from a tree,
The swarm of colours flew south
taking with it, my kaleidoscope lenses
and the boy;
Still, with his shoe laces undone
and his insides
a nest of larvae.
He never came back and I never found out who gave him the butterflies in the first place. - E.D
Michael Parish May 2015
We've been stung so many times black bears drink our pollinated ****.  I always wondered if numbness equaled toughness.  You, Wrestling your whiskey den and  leaving nothing but black turds through out your furry funfettie carpet.  How hard working you were before the predawn sunrise of a meaningless morning.  Now the blue moon cries sobriety for half a creasant .  I guess it isn't easy to change a phase not when somebody already gave out the calendar.  Each of us circle holidays just get drunk next to a clock.
Jo Swan Nov 2018
In my dreams,
I see a Prince,
His eyes gently glint.
Has his Holiness come?
I cry to him not all is well.
In my loneliness,
passion for life has languish.
Spirit tainted by sinful spell,
I’ve drank the cup of anguish?
Will the heart heal?
His calm silhouette-
caress me with warm zeal.
Heaven and Earth embrace as one.
In pain, I can survive.
Like the radiance of the Sun,
I feel my spirit revive.

With the wind,
the Prince disappears
like pollinated petals.
I implore him to reappear.
I’m a vulnerable child;
afraid to be back in the wild.
His voice whispers
that it is time to awake.
He will not forsake me.
One day when I’ve blossom,
I’m destine to meet him again.
With his holy army,
slanderous shadows will flee.
With the Prince of Peace,
Life’s lamenting will one day cease!

(c) Jo Swan
Donall Dempsey Dec 2015
OF ALL THE KISSES IN ALL THE WORLD, SHE HAS TO WALK INTO MINE!

I kissed you in
Islip & Liss.

Then once again in
Syathling, Shipton & Pershore.

Where ever I kissed you
I only ever wanted to

kiss you

more.

I kissed you in
Amberly & Arundel.

Once, I kissed you in
Swale & Sway.

I kissed you all over
in many various places

that I cannot remember
today.

I only remember

the kisses

scattered all over England

refusing to fade away.






These are all the beautiful names of little towns and villages in southern England. To my English Jan they were just names but to an Irishman unacquainted with them...they were magical sounds that opened the portals to worlds and love unknown. As we toured the area I did indeed kiss her in all these various places...indeed I cannot conceive of a time or a place in which we were not engaged in the art and craft of kissing. The magic of the kisses and the magic of the names cross pollinated and bloomed into the world of this poem. I still love saying this poem as it allows my lips to kiss once again those beautiful sounds and to kiss the lips that I loved to kiss. They refuse to...fade away. My heart held in Swale and Sway...as if it were today.
***

These are all the beautiful names of little towns and villages in southern England. To my English Jan they were just names but to an Irishman unacquainted with them...they were magical sounds that opened the portals to worlds and love unknown. As we toured the area I did indeed kiss her in all these various places...indeed I cannot conceive of a time or a place in which we were not engaged in the art and craft of kissing. The magic of the kisses and the magic of the names cross pollinated and bloomed into the world of this poem. I still love saying this poem as it allows my lips to kiss once again those beautiful sounds and to kiss the lips that I loved to kiss. They refuse to...fade away. My heart held in Swale and Sway...as if it were today.
Styles May 2014
Old fashioned; you may be
Blossoming; flowers dangling; beauty
Your shape; nature's top breed.
Workers Bee's; pollinated your seed.
Dangling; pillow-shaped hearts.
Shining light; feeds your needs.
Heart-shaped pedals; dance in the breeze.
Spring brings; lacey, pink, and white pedals.
Fall comes; blossoming flowers leave.
Return please; or our lonely hearts will bleed.
flowers
Jack Aylward Oct 2015
A velvet leaf of clover; green
As vivid grass
Is blowing in an
Apricot breeze
Near a stream
Of pollinated hay.

Luck is long as a drifting current
In the water
And the clover
Is a brooch
Near a felt sky.

©Jack Aylward
Molly Westfall Jan 2015
They have steadily been building up
Gathering-
Strengthening in numbers.
Each buzz growing louder
Creating a deafening hum.
All of my thoughts are drowned out by the hum.
Save for you.
You are the hum.

I am the tree.
I am the leaves that swing from the branches.
I am the flowers the burst forth
From tiny buds in the spring.
You are the bees.
You are the bees that hum in the tree.
Covering every inch of green that grows
Slowly taking my life.

Like a super swarm of bees
You came to me.
You learned my limbs
As the bee learns branches.
You pollinated the tiny buds
To make them grow.
Tender.
Caring.
With love.
What an exquisite duo the tree and bee.

But now you take
All that I afford
All that I have left.
The droning never stops in my mind.
It is all consuming.
A dark sanity swallowing fog.

The buzz has changed of late.
No longer a loving hum
But a greedy one.
You **** from me my very air
And I can't breathe.
You yield from my branches
All that you once loved.
You take my nectar
And leave me stripped.
Depleted.
Naked.
Alone.

You have taken my sweet nectar.
You have stolen my sweet nature.
Left me bitter
And blue.

When summer comes to an end
And the bees slowly leave the tree
Behind
The memories will begin to fade.
The humming will grow silent.
And the burning
Reds and oranges of my pain
Will seep into my leaves.
And each will fall.
They will call it autumn.

The buzzing will stop.
Each bee compelled toward
New plenty.
You will have flown away.
And I will stand.
Trunk
And limbs.
To suffer through winter
Until the day the bees
Return to my weary
Branches.
Return to my weary branches
And love me.
King Panda May 2018
I shred you as cedar
to eat your smell—
a crick of words to ultra face-off
between bone-splitter and bliss
I

am your writer
and my heart’s cavalry
pounds your lips
with sweetness
the

submission of sugar
the

taste of honey
the

number of times
I’ve

had you in comb
buzzing your fuzz-ectomy
into a new mind of flower
to be pollinated
with the lilac breeze
of my going
Martin Narrod Jan 2017
Make me *** and I'll come for you, until they pull me down and make me cough out loud. I'm a street named Chance and I'm awful loud, I read right to left. I hear colors not sounds. I'm a maniac, maniac, for Empire Carpet. I've been hospitalized for being honest, and condescended to for living life on the edge, with a knife in my bed, a pillow under my head. Where I've pollinated my sheets with the easements of sleep, and circumvented my best friends just to shake up the news. I've been used, I've been lied to, I've been amused, I've survived abuse, I've been bruised, I've leaned toward the obtuse, I've leant forward for truth, and I've written down my upsides and foretold my mishaps, I'm a backwards commando for import and export of hazmat, and especially bath mats, CB2 or IKEA, Bed, Bath, and Beyond, or just farther beyond. I remain calm, while the adverbs stack in my palms, it's the trick of word pimping to work verbs into adjectives, articles attached to their nouns, an ellipsis or eroteme, a period or comma. I said I am *******, so now won't you come. I've evolved what I've said into parts of a song. So push back on me and I'll push back in you, I'll take your words and re-dedicate them into consonants and vowels. Hang up your heraldry, and never put down your ***. Keep your habits to bedrooms, and your words to never forget.
Everlasting Nov 2014
I added
a bit of bitsy liquid sugar
A viscous substance,
Now
dripping from my spoon
like moonlight onto a lake of cereal

Oh that sweet, motherly nectar
That in between petals
flourished
That which with pollen
Bees pollinated
And that from which
They made
Honey
And my bowl of cornflakes
Taste
So sweetly

— The End —