Sensory

.:Senses:.


let’s brighten & redden up your highlights
let’s play doctor
some games
screen and filter out those senses
wrapping some gauze
let’s wrap it around your
pretty little head

and no,  we don’t want to pull the gauze too tight
if too tight that would be unethical at this point
but indeed, let’s crisscross both your eyes
one time
that should be enough
two-timing would be surpassing the necessary

because we still want you to partially make out your treat

-meant

still wanting you to be able  
able to make
me out even if it’s only a blur
my own senses of seeing and hearing
smelling the bad taste of your tasteless feeling
at this point my senses; they should all be truly attuned

you do believe I could sense you...
yes, the seeing how your fun & games
how it was all true

no matter.

you should know by now
to me your speech has been blurred
the lies you wrapped around
the ones rapped against my head were the proof of this
the lies you would have climb and
enter into both my ears

emanating from a singularly, devious and deceitful mouth
that tongue with its
tweaked twisting

just the seeing and hearing alone
that was such an experience

all ears, all eyes, that glimpse of two

seems we all got our licks in…got them in
so many, many times and
combined with the touch of you
my senses would’ve had me swear
that I only knew the truth

was I just that naïve?
perhaps

and yet I’m still believing that
bad experiences
that they can be severed & forgotten
given up as if they never existed
at the very least

and that even the least of good doctors; they can’t be. . . blamed
as in like now
even with my sick sixth sense
it’s still telling me...all’s well that
ends well

scalpel.

In a pool of my own blood
I lie upon the ground
And except my own heartbeat
There is no other sound

           Just silence.

Silence through the unearthly night
Silence in the air
Singing a silent song to myself
Praying a silent prayer.

               And I taste

The blood that pours from my wounds
Thick, dark and red.
Coating my tongue in a rusty salt,
So much I should be dead.

                But I'm not.

I don't know why I'm still alive
When litres of blood are lost
But just to see your face again
This is a worthy cost.

            And you came.

On wings so bright my eyes start to hurt
Shimmering in the new found sun
You glide to me, so pure soul'd
Of evil there is none.

          Or so i thought.

The blood is now flowing fast
I'm shivering, shaking and cold
A breeze that may as well be daggers
A soul that is now sold.

          Because i was wrong.

I hear nothing and taste my blood,
I lie here cold, almost dead.
I smell the rust from my hearts liquid,
And i feel rather light in the head.

         It was you.

You were the devil only i didn't know
The hatred you had for me.
And now as I see you in full form,
I writhe in agony.

The pain is all i feel.
The blood is all I smell.
The angel is all i see,
An angel who sent me to Hell.
Silence is all I hear,
Even through my scream.
And i can taste the hatred you hold for me,
Even through my dream.

Love;

Love is such a word that escapes the mind.
Your fingers grasp for it, try to hold it,
But it instead burns you to the touch.
The flavor that touches your tongue,
lingering on your tip like a sour candy
or the sweetest of licorice you've ever had.
The acrid scent burning and tingling your nose,
yet it's so intoxicating you cannot stop inhaling.
Love is the words whispered into your ear late at night,
or thrown at you like daggers from a voice in raised volumes.
It breaks and shatters your ear drums, but makes you want
to listen just a little bit more closely.
For some it is a blossoming rose, or a meadow.
It is soft and easy on the eyes, or rough on the outside.
You cannot truly see it, for if you could,
It would be easily captured and contained.
At the slightest of touch, it will dissolve and escape,
crumble before you if you cannot hold it gently.
Love is such an illusion that it overwhelms the basic 5 senses.
Once truly achieved, such things are left unneeded anyway.

Sense and Sensibility: Five Parts



 
 
 

S I G H T  
 


What turns you on  
The sight of a pubescent belle  
The nimble nubile form hunched over the rail  
The long legs in Library reading Byron  
Or the tantalizing cleavage  
The bathing slum Cinderella  
The mahogany coloured calves  
The visible haunches by the open sewage  
 
What holds your sight  
A drop of sweat trickling down her neck  
An unsuspecting mother feeding her baby  
Long silky tresses dancing in the breeze  
or may be the willowy figurine  
strolling down the lake  
or the oblivious couple making love in the park  
A thick stack of money under your bed  
with unfulfilled promises of base desire  
or inviting eyes indicating mischief from the dark  
 



S M E L L  
 



What turns you on  
The strong smell of wet mud  
or the fresh fragrance of afternoon rain  
May be your lover's sweat post-coitus  
could it be the overpowering old wine  
or the freshly saved eucalyptus wood  
The aroma of just washed long tresses  
The smell of camphor and lost memories  
from an old dress  
The faint pheromone from the shredded gown  
Wafting lavender or uplifting rose  
May be the sinful dark chocolate  
or the musk emanated by your lover at foreplay  
The old classic by Shelly from college  
The old dead rose inside with memories alive  
A piping hot mug of mocha at six  
or the crushed jasmines of the last one night stand  
 
 

T O U C H  
 

What turns you on  
Your ex-flame's playful fingers  
or that faint brush with a stranger in the train  
or the touch of flaming lips in the rain  
Groping-inexperienced hands in the loo  
or slow, methodical thumbs out of the blue  
an experienced masseur on a steamy night  
The irresistible spell of touch and go  
The light caress of the new gentle lover  
or the full mouthed affair behind the car  
The exploring search causing the explosions inside  
May be the tight hug from someone unexpected  
An old lover's familiar moves down your body  
or the firm hand traveling up inside in a frenzy  
That seething tongue rolling over the earlobe  
or that heavy warm breath on your nape  
 


T A S T E  
 


What turns you on  
Addictive chocolate melting on your tongue  
or perfectly brewed coffee on a long evening  
A large gulp of Burgundy wine on the beach  
Juicy strawberries tantalizing your senses  
A small butter cube disappearing in moments  
or a perfectly blended Cuban cigar on a slow noon  
May be Mediterranean grapes in between romances  
A faint smelling meal of smoked salmon  
or a gorgeous looking bowl of fresh lamb  
Utterly inviting kebabs dipped in green chilly paste  
or a regal looking dish of lobsters served with love  
 
 


S O U N D    



What turns you on  
The faint murmur teasing your libido  
The loud gasps filling up the air  
or the quivering lips announcing climax  
Well it could be the tremulous singing  
or the sonorous voice over the phone  
The low moan as fingers travel  
The enticing greeting at the front door  
or the pitter -patter of falling rain  
The soft evening breeze thru the garden  
The loud sound of the hard slap on flesh  
or the heavy breathing following suit  
The shrill chirping of birds early morning  
The low whirring of the fan in the dingy hotel room  
A mighty thunder storm  
or the beeping cell phone  
or the champagne fizzing out  
The low hissing of the serpant  
 

Damn I didn't even know about this comp.. I am going to slither through my senses and hope to enter.. I should start checking the comp more often.

So petty, The concerns of man.
So petty, the concerns of man
That I would bore out my ears
For but a brief silence
Gouge my eyes,
With glowing iron
In defiance
Of your brighter tomorrow.
The fruit has grown bland,
full of pips and rot.
Once warm, sweet milk
Now Curdles in mouth
I no longer find pleasure in taste
So empty, The talk of man,
That I would tear out my tongue,
To be excused from reply,
Savoring my speechless silence
Sever my nose,
And become your scentless apprentice.
Here, I am among no one.
Here, I am a wanderer, dazed, lost...

Run with me my brothers!
See you not the Waxing Orb?
We are nearly in our prime
and we are the world!

Run to'ward the scent of flesh
lay your noses to the turf.
The stag and fawn are on the run
and we must hasten forth!

Hear you how the wind keens
shrill and vaunted tales?
From hallowed halls
the father calls
to hunt these ancient vales!

Feel the earth beneath your claws
dig deep for solid purchase.
To spring you on
the sweetest fawn
to feed our clan once more!

And as we drag our prey to ground
Taste the warm and flowing blood!
This young life will feed the flies
when we have had enough!

Fred
Grace
Dead

Congrats!
Great job all.

Wow I'm in rapture!
Thank you Rachel!