The shape of your mouth, the angle of your eyes when you look off into the distance… a slight waver of a tremor down my spine, I know I’ve picked up on something. Something has gone wrong. A shifting of weight, a breath and a pause–something has gone right. Unable to identify a cause, the current atmosphere rings through my body as truth. A sudden moment, voice rising a few octaves—danger. The bits of my brain reaching out, feeling around to know my environment as deeply as myself, every quirk, thought, action. A touch, the slightest change in pressure, and an endless stream of formless words downloaded through my nerves like a flash of code released. Sensitive, too sensitive, there is a story trying to enter my body with every pair of eyes locked, every unsure smile, every sigh that comes out as the words, “Won’t you please?” Little touches likes kisses on eyelids, temples, corners of lips, fingertips—gathering data, assessing a situation, putting together a story that colors the environment.
You, an evil child
me, like an insect in your hand
your plucked my antennae
my senses lost
my emotions die
i can no longer feel
i don’t understand
confusion
next the magnifying glass in your hand
burn me, set me on fire
wickedly you laugh as you watch
my poor wounded heart fry
As I adjusted the antenna on the television set, I watched the screen to see if the fuzziness disappeared. Once I finally got it right, I stood up from my kneel and triumphantly turned around. Not to me surprise, behind me was my sleeping husband.
I wonder silently “How did I end up here?”
All I hear anymore is a faint ringing-
It haunts my brain
It Haunts my soul, and inner being
Anxiety-
I can’t stop picking up signals
It’s overwhelming
but you,
You’re right there in front on me
A memory
Or so it feels like
But you’re real
Standing tall
With arms wide open-
You tell me things are going to be okay;
As you say i look apprehensive
You console me
and slowly-
Very slowly the anxiety is dissapating
Very slowly, the ringing is leaving my body
Thank you for being mine.
My antennae are up! I’m singing One World is Enough for All of Us. What human had attenae? Well, he wasn’t really a human in My Favorite Martian. They went up and down. That was cute.
She adjusted the rabbit ears, trying to remember the last time she fought for TV signal. Mrs. Applebaum sat patiently on the couch, but offered no suggestions.
“No, no, you sit, I got it,” thought Teresa. She wiped frustrated sweat from her brow.
Childhood memories. Rooftop. TV sets. Remembrance of a simpler time. It comes back in flashes. I didn’t understand its concept back then, not that I do now either. But then again, it came back in a flash.
Antennen. Vergessen Sie nicht, Ihre Antennen zu erden. Da passiert sicher irgendwas Schlimmes, wenn man mit Elektrizität rumspielt, mit höheren Stromstärken, und das ist technisch alles nicht einwandfrei – da kann man sich böse verletzen, sogar sterben.
Grandpa Jimothy had a television set so old that two large metal antennae protruded from the top like antlers on a wooden deer. He loved that television. It would only show three channels – a local news network, a network that ran Seinfeld reruns all the time, and a channel strictly dedicated to selling jewelry.
The shape of your mouth, the angle of your eyes when you look off into the distance… a slight waver of a tremor down my spine, I know I’ve picked up on something. Something has gone wrong. A shifting of weight, a breath and a pause–something has gone right. Unable to identify a cause, the current atmosphere rings through my body as truth. A sudden moment, voice rising a few octaves—danger. The bits of my brain reaching out, feeling around to know my environment as deeply as myself, every quirk, thought, action. A touch, the slightest change in pressure, and an endless stream of formless words downloaded through my nerves like a flash of code released. Sensitive, too sensitive, there is a story trying to enter my body with every pair of eyes locked, every unsure smile, every sigh that comes out as the words, “Won’t you please?” Little touches likes kisses on eyelids, temples, corners of lips, fingertips—gathering data, assessing a situation, putting together a story that colors the environment.
You, an evil child
me, like an insect in your hand
your plucked my antennae
my senses lost
my emotions die
i can no longer feel
i don’t understand
confusion
next the magnifying glass in your hand
burn me, set me on fire
wickedly you laugh as you watch
my poor wounded heart fry
As I adjusted the antenna on the television set, I watched the screen to see if the fuzziness disappeared. Once I finally got it right, I stood up from my kneel and triumphantly turned around. Not to me surprise, behind me was my sleeping husband.
I wonder silently “How did I end up here?”
Sometimes I think my ears are tuned like antennae, seeking out only those comments I agree with. Often I mis-hear or only barely listen
All I hear anymore is a faint ringing-
It haunts my brain
It Haunts my soul, and inner being
Anxiety-
I can’t stop picking up signals
It’s overwhelming
but you,
You’re right there in front on me
A memory
Or so it feels like
But you’re real
Standing tall
With arms wide open-
You tell me things are going to be okay;
As you say i look apprehensive
You console me
and slowly-
Very slowly the anxiety is dissapating
Very slowly, the ringing is leaving my body
Thank you for being mine.
My antennae are up! I’m singing One World is Enough for All of Us. What human had attenae? Well, he wasn’t really a human in My Favorite Martian. They went up and down. That was cute.
Life has it’s own antennae to get signals of situations. Antennae to secure love. Antennae to enemity. Antennae to know right and wrong!
She adjusted the rabbit ears, trying to remember the last time she fought for TV signal. Mrs. Applebaum sat patiently on the couch, but offered no suggestions.
“No, no, you sit, I got it,” thought Teresa. She wiped frustrated sweat from her brow.
what is antennae? I don’t even know what is that. haha can anyone help me the meaning of that word? I don’t know what else to say.
Childhood memories. Rooftop. TV sets. Remembrance of a simpler time. It comes back in flashes. I didn’t understand its concept back then, not that I do now either. But then again, it came back in a flash.
Antennen. Vergessen Sie nicht, Ihre Antennen zu erden. Da passiert sicher irgendwas Schlimmes, wenn man mit Elektrizität rumspielt, mit höheren Stromstärken, und das ist technisch alles nicht einwandfrei – da kann man sich böse verletzen, sogar sterben.
Grandpa Jimothy had a television set so old that two large metal antennae protruded from the top like antlers on a wooden deer. He loved that television. It would only show three channels – a local news network, a network that ran Seinfeld reruns all the time, and a channel strictly dedicated to selling jewelry.