"receptors" 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?
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 6:49 AM UTC
I'm stripped.
Flipped inside out.
Every emotion I've ever had for you
kept locked away within this ribcage
is now laid bare.
As I stand here,
exposed before you,
The brutal honesty of my love for you is now clear.
The 206 bones in my body have been
etched with the 206 love letters
that I've written to you in my head.
Every impulse I have shoots from my brain
at the speed of 170 miles per hour,
racing through 46 miles of nerves,
reminding 640,000 sense receptors of their need to
touch you
smell you
taste you.
Though I am just a humble man
comprised of 60 chemical elements,
my heart beats your name
100,000 times per day.
25 trillion red blood cells act as messengers,
carrying word of your beauty across
60,000 miles of veins, arteries, and capillaries.
Every fiber of my being consumed with
one thought.
You.
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 11:48 AM UTC
The imaginers of now were children once,
each day they each imagined tomorrow.
Their daddies had just won the war
happy days were really here again, this time.
---
Now, we see what we see, it's not what we saw.
And this is better than I imagined.
My first oral book report was on 1984, in 1962.
Percentages and stats, the odds,
out of 8 billion…
I carry my weight, saltwise,
I'm light, too. Immaterial in fact.
I watched the internet take form
before my very eyes,
magi technic never seen since Darius the Mede.
Good job, geeks.
Reared on radio waves your
grandfathers never heard,
your signal receptors from mito-mom,
oh, what a plan. The promised ones.
Many sons.
hmmm 60 cycle white noise in the field,
the field of fields,
Future Farmers of America and stuff
Powers we imagined,
a color TV we could watch
in the backseat for days on Route 66,
a restaurant just for kids
Toys 'r' Us oh, wow,
those came and went
and our Grand kids
are imagining tomorrow,
doin' fine with less of what we thought was cool,
taking for granted all I
accepted as granted, in the "It is Finished"
Golden Parachute
Package deal,
Grace and Peace
that multiplies.
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 4:32 AM UTC
“The most important scientific revolutions all include, as their only common feature, the dethronement of human arrogance from one pedestal after another of previous convictions about our centrality in the cosmos.”
Stephen Jay Gould
Give me
vacuum tube torus Lorentz-Klein interference receptors
dual noble-gas maser integration processors
at least one
prosthetic Gaussian carbon-coated ribosomal Tesla coil
an anthropomorphic hierarchical temporal meme-pseudopod
some
support vector k-nearest neighbor algorithms
reverse engineered quantum optic die-cast silica motherboards
self-assembling three dimensional electro-active protein polymers
maybe even
a superconducting spectral alkali resonance analyzer
paired with
harmonizing piezoelectric kinematic thermal modules
dipped in
subzero Kurzweil-circuit nanite neurotransmitters
and voila!
God.
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 5:18 PM UTC
i remember this one conversation
with such clarity it alarms me
in the dead of night
with a longing for ecstasy
seeping through his tone he asked me,
"could..you imagine....what..life...would be like...if we weren't..mentally ill?"
and with that question
my hanging heart
sunk even lower into its pit
due to jealousy and frustration
for my cursed blessing
and i was confused on how
for i had believed my heart already laid
at what i'd thought to be
rock bottom
well besides that,
he did provoke me
to question
is there is a chance
for my heart to find
its rightful place
in my body
yet again?
and maybe along with it
all of my chemical receptors,
and my neurological network of pathways
could all find their own
harmonious balance and natural sources
of dopamine, serotonin, and epinephrine
and have them work "flaw"lessly
just, way they were originally created to
when the goddess of mental
crafted these things with such care
and gifted those beautifully painful things
to humankind
****
the unholy things i'd do to obtain
the goddess of neurotypicality's
scientific? spiritual? situational?
whatever the **** is in her elixir of secret
for mental peace and serenity
that few were blessed with unconditionally
to me it just sounds like magic
but back to him the only way i could reply
was with,
"i could only dream"
for i believe
in a lifetime of mine past
i may may have made a deal
with the devil of neurodiversity,
a fallen angel without malice,
who simply forgot
to grant me the knowledge
of how i would be reborn
into a world
where its society
would be unfit for me and my kind of mind
and with that thought lingering i added,
"but yeah...it must be nice"
Jun 10, 2021
Jun 10, 2021 at 6:27 AM UTC
swindling the air of its delight
using Cannabis pipes,
i have never written high
i finally understand why,
pen to paper
all i can write "cigarette break",
cannabinoid receptors
putting my mind on brink,
My feet get heavy as i start to float
my stress anchors me down,
like a twinkling eye of a magpie
drawn to the red sparks of the spliff,
Grilled,
Baked,
chasing the magic dragon.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 3:00 PM UTC
Marooned land-locked
on island earth
Born with an orphan’s
unknowable ache
Born with an empath heart
– always feeling too much –
mystic receptors wide awake
in a highly sensitive soul
It’s as if I've walked along
forever alone,
one step at a time,
lost in a restless nebula
from the earth to the moon
Consciously dreaming
to steal away,
bearing the weight of the sky,
upwards over the mountain,
away from these chains
that bind
The maelstroms echo
behind silenced, probing eyes
with an unsated thirst
to be wanted
dead or otherwise:
Never understanding
the reasons why,
spinning around in my head;
where "once upon a time"
was hidden,
buried alive
A lifetime spent trying
to unlearn the things
I wish I’d never
sought to know,
clinging to the love
I've touched in my life
evermore enwombed
in my heart
Passing milestones:
walking another barefoot mile
passing so many locked doors
without keyholes
– way outside the lines –
Choking on all
the latent words
lay fallow,
left unsaid
Always looking for
something dreamt
but seldom manifest
Growing so tired and weary
with no one standing by my side;
no one to lay down beside me
to take a rest for awhile
Just another chapter
in a timeless same old story;
another dark star
burned – out
– vanished –
into the utter obscurity
of a sky so close and yet
so far away...
Jesse Stillwater ... August 22, 2018
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 7:21 PM UTC
I beg his eyes
To look at me for once
Even a glance would suffice this hungry soul
A link with those eyes, make me lost
They're no less than a black hole.
I beg his lips to turn up to heaven
Those pretty little teeth
Flash to burn the darkness around me
So I find my way in the sunless day
With his smile even a blind will start to see.
I beg his ears
To listen to my voice
When I try to sing in the sweetest way (im)possible
Just so he could hear my voice
So he could hear only me above all the noise.
I beg his nose
To smell this cheap perfume I wear
Just for his receptors to be aware
Of my invisible presence in his life
So in his mind my cheap perfume runs rife.
I beg his skin
To feel the waves of my love
On his tiny hair which makes dots of goosebumps
And wave them as if a wind is blowing
Out on his skin my love is always flowing.
I beg him
To beg for me
The way I beg for him
If only his soul is as tattered as mine.
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 10:00 AM UTC
I can acomplish anything
in my dreams I forgive you
have slept with one woman
and two older ladies later
surprisingly sweet
charming
you had me for the dessert
after the same aged chest
dune planet was innocent
awry, happy,
subliminal
not occuring
our sensory receptors
need
to be more open
accepting
Nomens as lucid Omens
stars in your eyes and a bright
mass within waves of the mind
germinatrix
sensual aroused awareness
honey. . . your tower seems
like a marvel of a slick bridge
growing inside me
well gourded fortress
silent for many ages,
here, archaic oak doors stand,
imposant, aged by
translucent rains
horsmen, ladies, light
steps, the perfume of ever
crying branches thrown
to the winds of time
even heaven's allured
by this wildest dreams,
oak entering yearns for
a sweet melody,
sound sang by the
horseshoe shaped
~
aum
~~
knock
tock tock
tomp tomp
thump thump
thump thump
we are rare devotional flowers
growing toward the Sun's love
our curved green bodies are coloured
little skirts, our petal veils listen to every
raindrop's fall. Feel every one
of them heavy light
unbearable
beauty
within awe stricken garden's architecture
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 4:28 PM UTC
Settle into darkness, naturally, and take your cue from unoiled gears jolting forward only to lure you into false stability and lose velocity, stop suddenly, merge the definitions of stopping and falling by balancing the cart on the back of the tongue as sherbet dip dab’s your gums in 3…2…swallow down it drops FLASH past the oesophagus there’s your photo op show us some teeth show us some skin darlin’ begin to dissolve in stomach acid bile’s vile hold it down we will use force if necessary like handcuffs to a headboard excuse me sir may I see your ticket? Right you can’t sit here, you’re 3,4-methylenedioxymethamphphetamine, that’s upstairs you need to swing a left then straight up to the top floor not a bad view, you can’t miss it it’s got a hundred golden bulbs flashing hypothalamus, no we’re not really bothered about our environment take the lift elevate heart rate
C-C-C-CRANK IT UP
to the cerebral cortex’s House of Mirrors home of distortion. What can we do for you sir? We like to pride ourselves in our ability to mess around with the wiring and stimulate receptors, all part of the Deluxe Mega Deal complete with moving walls, disco ball skin and a talking butterfly the size of a car crash for a limited time only whilst serotonin stocks last they fall as fast as the lubricated log flume SPLASH. Please remain seated until the end of the ride. Thrown out into the gift shop. £30 for a 12 hour come down. Come again soon.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 9:12 AM UTC
He stood a little over six feet tall, with eyes as sharp
As when glass etches its way through the thick skin of my soles
He was a pretty boy, but cold, with a tongue that tasted as sweet
as the candy canes during christmas time
Did I love the pretty boy? I often wonder when I sit at night dragging at the roots of my thin hair
Crying over the time he crushed my pride with a few words,
sharp as daggers etching its way into my chemical receptors
Sending me into a state of ultimate desolation, of depression,
of pain I could never imagine I would have to suffer through
Pulling on my uniform at 5 am, forcing the smile on to my pale face, drained of life and blood that begun to bubble into my chest,
A pretty boy made me wish for death,
I can't seem to forget,
When I cried out in pleasure, clutching to his toned body, a foreign feeling to my inexperienced self that left me as stiff as rigor mortis
The pretty boy,
With eyes freezing akin to the ice that fell during the coldest winter,
words as sweet as roses with thorns,
etching its way between my thighs, tasting the little innocence I had left
The pretty boy,
Still lingers in the deepest part of my memories,
In such a short time, I let myself become enveloped into the arms of death
in the cloak of an angel,
The pretty boy,
I wished he had come back to me.
The pretty boy,
That doesnt think of me in bed with the woman he truly loves,
her voice, not mine
That captivates him at nighttime
The pretty boy,
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 11:33 AM UTC
It’s morning and there’s an incoming,
your receptors sense a spark of sadness
so they take it
and mash it
and all of a sudden It’s here:
nothingness.
Staring into the perpetual vastness
of a mind that you have
and there are no signs of life
no remnants of emotion that could indicate
something once lived and breathed and laughed
in this abyss
in this blackness
so until Doc bumps up the milligram
for the fifth time around
I can distract myself
with people, places and plants
and listen to his South African accent
while imagining a planet rational to my mind
devoid of even the most microscopic of organisms.
Not a patio brick
or a single tumble bug of my childhood remains,
only these deep lacerations
veiling the beauty of the land which it scars.
Now it’s noon
and the scuffs on my shoes remind me of you
My mind is racing
while Zoloft takes my sadness
and transmutes it into emptiness;
I’m currently still trying to ascertain
which of them is worse.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 9:30 PM UTC
Her eyes transmit, his nerve ends become receptors.
Blood pumped in to his veins demands"Bring her closer"
His nostrils flare, lips get swollen,a tingle spreads all over.
A hotblooded woman, instinctively sense such moments.
Her eyes are now lit up by desire, laced with refined lust.
And lips acquire a luscious pout,colored a shade deeper.
Her eyes wink involuntarily,can't hold it there, they droop.
In a sudden weakness of eyes,both touch the waterline,close.
He could hear his heart beat faster,mercury rise is palpable.
From his inner sanctum,the beating of the drum is now louder.
Her eyes flare in the tremors that rock her to her very roots.
Those eyes are wet,the erupting spring of lubricious intent.
It's out in the open, neither him nor her could now pretend
Furtive glances do not ignite anything other than coy smiles
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 8:36 AM UTC
We've both been through a lot lately,
Enough that we make the most
of distractions that present themselves.
I don't like to sit down and study
How a signal from your brain,
Reaches receptors in your toes;
Or how a muscle twitches.
And you don't like to be alone.
It's been our tradition,
The three of us,
Since we were about fifteen,
To modify our bodies;
(read: mutilate).
We pierce and ink ourselves.
You got your jumping Koi
When you were fifteen
Still in high school.
We got our ******* pierced in the last year of school,
Bored with the idea of maths or science
We wanted something interesting,
And that's what we came up with.
You came back to school
And couldn't stop showing people,
Even when they didn't want to see.
We all got our animals together,
My cicada, your frog, your bird,
The leaver's dinner for school was that night.
We were still rebels.
Then uni last year,
Two quotes in braille around our ribs,
And your quote in Latin
(which turned out to be Italian)
"No lies, just love."
Now today,
A new cat on my arm
And a rose on the back of your neck.
We are perfect,
Immaculate.
Procrastination at it's finest.
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 3:52 AM UTC
Did you say laughter is the best medicine?
what is it that's ailing you, that you need this medicine for?
we are concerned with your mental and physical health
laughter is not good unless prescribed and monitored
laughing uncontrollably is a sign of drug abuse
laughing hysterically is a sign of mental disorder
laughing too much can damage joy receptors
joy receptor drainage is #1 cause of sadness, and every other disease
Joyflow is the best medicine to control laughter flow
Joyflow is recommended by all doctors everywhere
*Joyflow may cause side effects including, but not limited to sadness, nausea, sterilization(good), sudden death, heartburn, diabetes, cancer, brain bleeds etc.
We are very concerned with your state of well-being
you are addicted to laughter, and not able to make logical decisions
you are over-weight and under-developed mentally
this police officer is taking you to a place to be evaluated
put your hands behind your back and do not resist
resisting an officer is a crime, and you will have jail time waiting if you pass evaluation
we will also give you something for the crying, called FlowNoMore
we work for you to stop tears and let joy flow the healthy way
Oct 19, 2021
Oct 19, 2021 at 2:27 PM UTC
*I am not one of these leather wearing ******* you see on **** sites. I am real. I listen to 911 calls on repeat. Images of gore, abortions, death, and torture fill me with unbridled lust.
Humans are amazing... Their build, their skin, with billions of embedded pain receptors. Optic nerves, sending horrific images directly into their frontal lobes. I love their faces, tiny changes in their expressions with different types and increments of pain.
There is such a glorious range and variety of pain that can be inflicted upon a human. Few appreciate the sublime canvas of a humans body. Each sense can be tweaked and tormented. All of there emotions can be played like an instrument, by someone with the right skills and tools. Their screams are sublime.
There is a certain kind of scream a person lets out, the moment they realize their own mortality, but it is beyond words. It makes me see red. I lust for it. I adore it.
I am free. I am not bounded by your conceptions of morality. ****** **** and torture are simply choices. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want to whomever I want. Whether it is one death, a million, a billion, or an entire planet or the entire universe, it means less than nothing to me. I have no ideology, religion, or higher purpose. If the slab of meat and chemicals you call your mind is searching for a word to append to me, just think of me as an artist. My medium is flesh.
I walk among you. I understand you better than you understand yourself. I have studied the human body, peeled back the layers of flesh, the emotions. I see right through you. I am the nice, unassuming person you know. We share secrets. Some of you like me. Some of you love me.*
None of you know me.
I am, sadist.
Dec 13, 2010
Dec 13, 2010 at 9:18 AM UTC
Oh , I'd love to let my fingers talk to your skin
Let my fingertips whisper electric nuances
to the receptors within
Send shivers all over your body
Let my palms place the curves in the swerves
of my imagination
My breath saying warm subjectives
next to your ears
My lips pondering the distance
behind your knee
The numbness of your toes tortured
by my trembling tongue
The kiss counts upon the ribcage
of your breathless chest
As the sun wishes it could set
as beautifully as your best
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 9:37 PM UTC
Increase The Pace (Side A)
Rhythmic pulsations invade comatose receptors
Lingering in the thick summer smog
The onset of tribulation commences-
Increase the pace.
Reverb ripples through
Hot wet lungs,
Love and Hate
The beats resonate...
Scared vinyl skips:
Repeating visions of angst,
Violent red chords
Rolling off shredded steel strings,
Acting as mania’s fingers…
Feet trapped in rebel rubber soles
Draw on littered concrete floors
Lonely like before
Noble souls abandoned this
Scene of raunchy rust,
gravity grabbing
as our wrists touch.
Increase The Pace (Side B)
Rush to Eden-
Greeted by harsh halogen
Bleach, eating out your sinuses,
water swirls as it slithers
round the basin
heavy door mutes the static,
holding back waves of thick smoke.
Blood shot eyes soothed
By branded potions,
Clarity cleanses
Dismembered demons
Crazed revelations infect the night no more
Forced silence seeps into aching eardrums
Breath forced from lungs
Adolescent epiphanies
Swirls down the drain,
Flying around chrome chains
Dust worn as protection
Drips into the sewers,
Flushed away
Forced silence reigns true
Voice of the bass-line
Forgotten anew.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 5:39 PM UTC
lungs
Consisting of elastic sacs with branching passages into which air is drawn so that oxygen can pass into the blood and carbon dioxide be removed
You planted flowers in mine and my body has not adjusted to breathe the different air.
I have forever felt at one with nature and hold the desire to assimilate myself in to it
But Today my body is not ready
My body will not accepted that as nature I will be stepped on
My body is A lot stronger then my heart is
I want my chest to be molded to hold all of which you want to give me
I want to say my carbon dioxide receptors will develope
like I can turn by body into something it is not
for you
but truthfully i know better
My body is resistant.
My muscles fight for me when i am on longer doing it on my own
When i don't understand that this is a battle to the death
I wanted to give you something and didn't even contemplate that you could to **** it
I don't think it was intentional
But you have uprooted all of my nourishment and put it in my lungs
and although it is beautiful I cannot digest from my lungs
My life as this is not yet over
I have drawn from my skin all of what it had and more
I have picked at my bones i have tried to push them closer together
I have tried to make my body pretty and artfull
upon finding out that beautiful starts with self acceptance
I worked on believing that i am beautiful
I was coming to peace with loving myself
I had become a garden of my own
flourishing off of what i had around me
When you arrived you began to dig up the roots I was using to cope
swinging your shovel around like you didn't know the importance of what you were doing
WHile you were teaching me that your acceptance of me was more important than that of my own
The mind of which i follow told me that this was okay.
My body called ******** not ready to be stepped on
You had felt me with the rest of your body
And planting the flowers in my lungs was so you could feel me under your feet
Your feet are not the ones i want to be underneath
When my body is ready i will go into the ground
And the bereaved and the grave diggers and distraught will walk across me and my body will become that of another nature
For the first time my body will feel completely solid.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 3:15 AM UTC
#
.
*To feel things as deeply and as multi-layered as you do-- instantly and all-together, at once.. is to live a life that is far too often right on the edge of temptation, right on the edge of falling. The Art of holding on to who it is that you are, is to never betray that beautiful Self of yours.. whether in word, or deed.. at any given time. Ok it is to f e e l things as deeply as your luscious body and spirit so fully can, but as you already so clearly know.. certain "acting on's" can create such havoc within and to the things (people) you find important.
. .
That being said, a form of self-betrayal also is to deny yourself the beautiful Gift of fully feeling at all.. in order to help keep a peace that will forever come at the cost of who you truly (fully, within yourself) are.. even if it were to be acted out all alone on the edge of your bed.. or even against the back of a couch. In the world of Magic and Deep Deep, Beautiful Feeling, there is always a place for the win-win within you, and also within the world that you currently live in, over there.
You are an artist. An artist F E E L S.
The Universe will always, always help you find a way.
Always. xox
. . .
You are far too strong and stubborn to ever fully give up. That, I know. There is also a 'weakness' within you that hinges around the word "Vulnerability" when the Beautiful world of Magic overwhelms and then truly overtakes you. Your spirit's receptors are far too deeply intertwined into the gorgeous molecules of that lusciously-Responding body of yours. That makes your Path (your "Portion") that much more difficult to endure. There is a tremendous aloneness (loneliness) in living a life that has to so often be subdued, solely due to the consequences within others that truly do not understand. What you need most of all.. is simply to be Understood.. yes, Kid.. within all of that seemingly tremendous complexity of feelings and experiences.. your brilliant complexity of mind.. and the succulence of body that so gorgeously feels.. Everything.
It is not a "Curse", young Love.
It is a beautiful, beautiful Blessing.
. . . .
Surround yourself (if you can) with those who understand (because they struggle within the "Deeply Feeling" world as much as you). It is in no way an act of unfaithfulness (in any way whatsoever) to fully feel. Finding for yourself the most beautiful of Releases within those Moments of deep feeling is the beginning of your way 'out'.. and (so very lusciously), the way through. You are so very worth your own fighting for.. in order to hold on to every single part of who it is that you are.
Every single beautiful part
(and those within you that you currently "think" are not beautiful)*
#
Aug 28, 2023
Aug 28, 2023 at 8:29 PM UTC
3D Printing
Proud owners of 3D Printers !
Makers of 3D Printers !
Designers of 3D Printers !
What you are creating
Does't hold a candle
To Designer-maker-owner
All-in-one models
Created eons ago !!
It is the female of
Every species of mammals !
Bones, flesh, blood
Nerves, memory cells
Power plants to convert
Food to energy !
Control systems to regulate
Regeneration of fresh cells
Filter system to provide
Clean oxygen to
Fuel the Power Plants
With Powerful binoculars
Audio production mechanics
Audio receptors to pass on
Grey cells enclosed in
Secure and hard shell
Strands of fine hairs
To cushion impact and
As thermal insulation
Protection shields for
All sensory units
Efficient drainage system
Propulsion facilities
Guidance and command
Center for all activities!!
Processors working 24/7
Processing gene information
Tweaking and fine tuning
Some info and trashing a few
Data storage many TB more
Than many data centers could
Offer with minimum
Upkeep and maintenance
Self-Encryption capabilities
And above all the ability
To produce both male and
Female of their species
All from getting just
One ***** and
ultimately infusion
of LIFE
Into the product as casual
As our breathing.
Do we know the creator?
Different Religions have
Different Names for it
But all the same it is
THE ONLY ONE
That counts :-)
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
All of the pencils in the drawer are broken
Friday Night I'm sick of being alone
Hopping off the curb in search of the killer
Sniffing out the house parties
They like the bass loud and it swells
******* us inside past ten parked cars
They freestyle about
Gun fire and blood on concrete
He said I didn't believe him
Cracked out beyond repair
He shows me the scythe and hammer tattoo on his left breast
I laugh with the proletariat
Cheers and some soul passes me the bottle
Cigarette smoke contained by plaster walls
I'm eight days sober
Don't tread on me
Says a ***** blond next to me on the couch
All strung out she is searching
Searching for a bent spoon and needle in the tall grass
Back yard a bonfire
Walking barefoot on broken
Heineken bottles strewn in the shadows
Popping molly and sweating
She called me a hick
Her dopamine receptors
Rubbed flat by heavy grade sandpaper
I called her nothing
I was too busy watching
The rats scurry against the wall
To their safe warm nest
In the insulation
A hand around my wrist
Milk white incubus
With breath like puked whiskey
I escaped through a hole in the couch
I fell between the cracked leather cushions
And slept with the rats in piles of pink
Fiberglass insulation scratching at the flesh
I slip outside through the cracked window
A woman stands at a console
Turning dials that cause the streetlights to dim
And bleed storefront windows fractals of neon
She asks me what else I would like to know about the world.
Someone tells me to get in and the door shuts
A sound like gunfire I perspire sweat with cough
Syrup scent peaking on the dark road to Okeechobee
I should **** myself or run barefoot again through your head
Where the forest floor is warm and the trees are alive always with birdsong
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 4:14 AM UTC
*Goddess of my Awakening dawn. Let me observe your illuminated skin, the divine and sacred scroll on which God wrote my mysteries.
Your golden follicles, the infinite world light receptors and creation, are the crowns on the letters of the Holy alphabet noted on your wonderful body.
Your nakedness is esoteric and when you gently Spending my eyes, revealest your sphinxes, angelic hieroglyphs are the notes in the score sung by Serafim.
Goddess of the dawn of my awakening. Your lips are the divine Edenic sources of heavenly delight. Your kisses are horseback riding chariot igneous creatures, souls sparks coming through my mouth to rest in my spirit. What could be more sacred than emerjantes kisses of your mouth? What could be more divine than your beauty and the light of your sensuality? Es, therefore, the object of my poetry, awakened in my mind the esoteric view of your magnificent *******
Goddess of my Awakening dawn, Princess Christed rof aurora of my soul. Kiss me and make me your scribe, the immortal annotator of your mystical sensuality.*
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 4:34 PM UTC
Your back against the hardwood floorthrustingharderthanbefore--
it's our scent that is now rising,
every inhale energizing
giving Life to our tantalizing dance of ancient lore
GraspSoothScratch
Your challenge is my match--
Walls of fear, fade, crumble then disapp
GropeSqueezeHold
Let me break your mold
GrabPullKiss
The taste of Belgian beer still lingers on your lips;
a hint of you on my finger's tip
enough to savor in your flavor,
not in gulp but in sips
SuckSlipLick
Moans with every flick--
✦❉◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡✦❉
✦❉◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡✦❉
✦❉◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡✦❉
✦❉◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡✦❉
✦❉◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡✦❉
All my senses lose their tenses,
past and future have no fences
gone now all of our pretenses
5 connectors
5 receptors
1 pathway
to the nectar of your essence.
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 12:24 PM UTC
I think in terms of space dust
rocks and dirt and eyes of mud
rocks and stars and desire of sun
burns above my belly button
i could cough it up, i could just gag myself and throw it up
it's really hard for me, though, to do things i don’t want to do
so i make space inside my stomach for a love that’s hard to stomach
And I wanna roam around Mars with you.
And I wanna roll around Venus with you.
Later?
Did you mean: later? Or did you mean: never?
My empathetic receptors curse me with the knowledge of what you want before you even know
My abounding empathy whips, long and hard; I’m sweaty and she makes me not ask
So I just assume that I occupy your head space too.
And oh dear God, I hope I have real estate in your space too.
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 8:54 PM UTC