Es schwimmt auf dem Wasser. Es bildet schillernde Kreise. Gelb, grün und lila. Es ist nicht gesund. Es ist. Es verhindert, dass das Wasser Sauerstoff aufnimmt. Alles, was sich unter dieser bunten Schicht befindet, geht zu Grunde. Langsam aber sicher. Und dann kommt der Schnee.
I don’t wash my hair often, like it should be by society’s standards, but when I don’t – I get fab hair after straightening it. Oil is good for your hair’s health. Don’t strip it.
the oil in her hair showed how little they actually paid attention….gosh, what had it been? maybe 2 or 3 days since a shower? maybe not….it was probably just lack of knowing. why bother to teach when you never intend to give her any opportunity to have a productive life.
wd 40 smells distinctively of garages, mended bicycles and garage floors. Oily rags and crates of rusty tools. Where is the glamorous ‘Fonz’ on his bike, I ask?
life-giving blood
to the nomads of the desert
turns out world upside down
resource wars with no body count
just price per barrel
the source of light and heat
the source of the extinction of the planet
Oil. What a strange word to write about. Maybe oil is just another natural resource to be mined by humans, stolen from the earth, to be used and abused by us. We dig it up, taking what we only claim to be ours (“finders, keepers”) and contaminate the beautiful world with harmful products. Why? Because we can.
So I sit down on the chair and like take off my shoes one at a time, you know in that cool way Travolta seems to place them down in Pup Fiction just before dancing, and then its the pants and the button down and I debate a half second on the drawers before getting naked and under the sheet. She knocks to come in and I’m already half gone with the music and that slight little breeze they kick at you, though it tends to get a little cold and then I’m thinking embarrassing thoughts on that sheet in a cold room, but she comes in and she’s at me right away with the oil and the hands slicking down my back and the hands are big and all and then I’m thinking they’re giant and they’re like the biggest hands of any girl I know and it’s only half over when I’m getting turned to over onto my back I see this guy holding the sheet above me and smiling.
Little green and tan herbs swirled around in the cup of olive oil. I dipped the fluffy, warm bread with a crisp crust into it and had a delicious snack.
oil is a pool of black. Beautiful yet the cause of much destruction. As is what we are. humans. Beautiful yet we have the capacity to kill and destroy. a single drop can kill like a knife.
Heard there was a major oil spill from a tanker off the coast of New Zealand–one of the most pristine places on the globe with bird life and sea life and milky white beaches. When will we learn not to destroy Earth, ourselves and other life?
oil flowing down the road in little burst of that beautiful machine in the valley grunting its way downhill.. oil streaks, their smell marks the road of my love
Her skin was damp and oily, having visited the Dead Sea numerous times. Being very religious, she found her calm where her heart met with nature. She liked to kneel in the water and pray, downward facing dog. She exhaled and inhaled slowly.
The oil seeped from under neath the old whining car, creating a black and rainbow pool of the stuff soaking in the hot July sun.
“Call a tow truck,” John said, his suborned face becoming even more flushed at the sight of his decrepit car.
why is the “one word” of the day still oil? I thought they would’ve changed it by now, seeing as its sunday, not saturday any more. can we have an update so i can post something new and creative for today? please?
Doesn’t like the cheap stuff, that lady. Always comes in look for hundred dollar olive oil. I tried to tell her we’re not that kind of shop. I mean, we sell packaged ramen for Christ’s sake — the kind you can microwave. But she thinks she’s in some boutique manhattan gourmet bullshit or something like that.
i use to oil my hair regularly when i was child but it seems cumbersome today and hence avoid it as mush as i can. but oils soils your hair so who do keep up the good work. I think olive oil is secret to my grandma’s beauty.
i use to oil my hair regularly when i was child but it seems cumbersome today and hence avoid it as mush as i can. but oils soils your hair so who do keep up the good work
Down, down the slope the oil ran slowly. Making it greasy. Making it messy. Making it fun. He was just a little boy, but the goodies from mum’s kitchen provided hours of amusement and thousands of experiments. How fast would he slide? He could hardly wait.
Traditionally oil is different from water. A lot of the time though they’re associated, which makes me wonder if they’re that different after all. In cooking oil and water are used together, for example.
Oil is such a useless fuel. Pertroleum that is. Vegetable oil is good and useful actually but Hydrogen is better even than that. I have no idea why were are so dependant on fuel when just a little funding and research could improve Hydrogen fuelling and save the planet.
So, this is how it is today. today, i don’t like her. I’m water and she’s oil. I know there are other days when we’re both agreeable and we are the same substance. It’s then i fall into the complacency trap, until one event – no matter how trivial – highlights once again, that we are not the same at all. Never have been and probably never will be.
breaks along its floor
splinters soaked
cracks and crevices
filled with damp dust
on the chair, its cushions plump
with her leaked oil seeped into them
she slouched with bones
eyes steady and sunk
a sedentary six months
the letters, milk and her absence
slowly building up
I sometimes look at my reflection in the mirror and observe the curves and corners of my face and the tired sheen from the oils in my skin and wonder if anyone else will ever notice
He wipes his hands on his shirt before he even realizes what he’s doing, and in an instant streaks of grease mar his otherwise pristine white shirt. This is why he should change before working on the car, he thinks with a sigh.
Oil was once upon a time my arch enemy, it would make my pores into heaping mountains of pimples and zits that would cause me to cake makeup onto my face and hate the way I looked… evil medicine cleared up the problem but the entire situation is one of the downplays of my whole life.
Electric blue oil clogging into my heart, jack-starting my body. Bleeding violently with energy. Violently sloshing into my veins. Let it grizzly grill up and up against my skin so I can see it right . Let it turn me alive.
I just ate noodles with olive oil, cheese, garlic, a little bit of oregano and rosemary. Well, literally, I ate it last lunch and now it’s merienda time. I’m hungry already.
The moment I saw the leak I was terrified. Adrenaline shot through my veins, pulse quickened. I had to do something. Anything.
He saw it too. A fraction of a second later than I did. The lighter as out in a flash. Before I had time to turn. Before I even saw the window.
The first thing I thought about what spillage, and like in the comedy routine, God says to me once he gets here “Well, why did you take it out of the ground in the first place!”, and I say “I needed to go faster. I wasn’t going fast enough.” In the routine, God is mad because I am ungrateful. In my hopes, I imagine that He holds me instead, and instead of He, it’s her, and she says “It’s alright. I know your sorry, and that’s enough”.
Es schwimmt auf dem Wasser. Es bildet schillernde Kreise. Gelb, grün und lila. Es ist nicht gesund. Es ist. Es verhindert, dass das Wasser Sauerstoff aufnimmt. Alles, was sich unter dieser bunten Schicht befindet, geht zu Grunde. Langsam aber sicher. Und dann kommt der Schnee.
I don’t wash my hair often, like it should be by society’s standards, but when I don’t – I get fab hair after straightening it. Oil is good for your hair’s health. Don’t strip it.
The seagull dove head-first into the school, oblivious.
He was a nice enough guy, but his hair… uhg – the oil!
Without life, there would be no oil.
Yet, with oil, there might be no life.
the oil in her hair showed how little they actually paid attention….gosh, what had it been? maybe 2 or 3 days since a shower? maybe not….it was probably just lack of knowing. why bother to teach when you never intend to give her any opportunity to have a productive life.
wd 40 smells distinctively of garages, mended bicycles and garage floors. Oily rags and crates of rusty tools. Where is the glamorous ‘Fonz’ on his bike, I ask?
life-giving blood
to the nomads of the desert
turns out world upside down
resource wars with no body count
just price per barrel
the source of light and heat
the source of the extinction of the planet
Oil. What a strange word to write about. Maybe oil is just another natural resource to be mined by humans, stolen from the earth, to be used and abused by us. We dig it up, taking what we only claim to be ours (“finders, keepers”) and contaminate the beautiful world with harmful products. Why? Because we can.
oil is a liquid got from vegetables, grains or nuts; it is got from fish; it is drawn from oilwells in deserts, sea Oil for cooking and as feul.
So I sit down on the chair and like take off my shoes one at a time, you know in that cool way Travolta seems to place them down in Pup Fiction just before dancing, and then its the pants and the button down and I debate a half second on the drawers before getting naked and under the sheet. She knocks to come in and I’m already half gone with the music and that slight little breeze they kick at you, though it tends to get a little cold and then I’m thinking embarrassing thoughts on that sheet in a cold room, but she comes in and she’s at me right away with the oil and the hands slicking down my back and the hands are big and all and then I’m thinking they’re giant and they’re like the biggest hands of any girl I know and it’s only half over when I’m getting turned to over onto my back I see this guy holding the sheet above me and smiling.
Little green and tan herbs swirled around in the cup of olive oil. I dipped the fluffy, warm bread with a crisp crust into it and had a delicious snack.
oil is a pool of black. Beautiful yet the cause of much destruction. As is what we are. humans. Beautiful yet we have the capacity to kill and destroy. a single drop can kill like a knife.
Heard there was a major oil spill from a tanker off the coast of New Zealand–one of the most pristine places on the globe with bird life and sea life and milky white beaches. When will we learn not to destroy Earth, ourselves and other life?
oil flowing down the road in little burst of that beautiful machine in the valley grunting its way downhill.. oil streaks, their smell marks the road of my love
Her skin was damp and oily, having visited the Dead Sea numerous times. Being very religious, she found her calm where her heart met with nature. She liked to kneel in the water and pray, downward facing dog. She exhaled and inhaled slowly.
The oil seeped from under neath the old whining car, creating a black and rainbow pool of the stuff soaking in the hot July sun.
“Call a tow truck,” John said, his suborned face becoming even more flushed at the sight of his decrepit car.
why is the “one word” of the day still oil? I thought they would’ve changed it by now, seeing as its sunday, not saturday any more. can we have an update so i can post something new and creative for today? please?
Doesn’t like the cheap stuff, that lady. Always comes in look for hundred dollar olive oil. I tried to tell her we’re not that kind of shop. I mean, we sell packaged ramen for Christ’s sake — the kind you can microwave. But she thinks she’s in some boutique manhattan gourmet bullshit or something like that.
i use to oil my hair regularly when i was child but it seems cumbersome today and hence avoid it as mush as i can. but oils soils your hair so who do keep up the good work. I think olive oil is secret to my grandma’s beauty.
i use to oil my hair regularly when i was child but it seems cumbersome today and hence avoid it as mush as i can. but oils soils your hair so who do keep up the good work
Oil is gross. Nothing much else can be said really
oily, slimey
timey wimey
sticky wickey
gunk
“It’s about oil!”
Who hasn’t thought that when Bush entered Iraqui?
Jet-oıl, a kind of oil which is necessary for plane. That is more expensive than the others.
the planes have got jet-oıl
Down, down the slope the oil ran slowly. Making it greasy. Making it messy. Making it fun. He was just a little boy, but the goodies from mum’s kitchen provided hours of amusement and thousands of experiments. How fast would he slide? He could hardly wait.
Traditionally oil is different from water. A lot of the time though they’re associated, which makes me wonder if they’re that different after all. In cooking oil and water are used together, for example.
Oil is such a useless fuel. Pertroleum that is. Vegetable oil is good and useful actually but Hydrogen is better even than that. I have no idea why were are so dependant on fuel when just a little funding and research could improve Hydrogen fuelling and save the planet.
It is one of the most valuable item on the marhet todat. oil that black liquid found in the earth, is of significant importantce to the develop world.
So, this is how it is today. today, i don’t like her. I’m water and she’s oil. I know there are other days when we’re both agreeable and we are the same substance. It’s then i fall into the complacency trap, until one event – no matter how trivial – highlights once again, that we are not the same at all. Never have been and probably never will be.
breaks along its floor
splinters soaked
cracks and crevices
filled with damp dust
on the chair, its cushions plump
with her leaked oil seeped into them
she slouched with bones
eyes steady and sunk
a sedentary six months
the letters, milk and her absence
slowly building up
I sometimes look at my reflection in the mirror and observe the curves and corners of my face and the tired sheen from the oils in my skin and wonder if anyone else will ever notice
He wipes his hands on his shirt before he even realizes what he’s doing, and in an instant streaks of grease mar his otherwise pristine white shirt. This is why he should change before working on the car, he thinks with a sigh.
Oil was once upon a time my arch enemy, it would make my pores into heaping mountains of pimples and zits that would cause me to cake makeup onto my face and hate the way I looked… evil medicine cleared up the problem but the entire situation is one of the downplays of my whole life.
привет,меня зовут Ваня и я неудачник.это ужасно хуево,хочу жить нормальной жизнью,я как бы все написал,но время ещё есть,явно похуй.всем пис
Electric blue oil clogging into my heart, jack-starting my body. Bleeding violently with energy. Violently sloshing into my veins. Let it grizzly grill up and up against my skin so I can see it right . Let it turn me alive.
I just ate noodles with olive oil, cheese, garlic, a little bit of oregano and rosemary. Well, literally, I ate it last lunch and now it’s merienda time. I’m hungry already.
The moment I saw the leak I was terrified. Adrenaline shot through my veins, pulse quickened. I had to do something. Anything.
He saw it too. A fraction of a second later than I did. The lighter as out in a flash. Before I had time to turn. Before I even saw the window.
The first thing I thought about what spillage, and like in the comedy routine, God says to me once he gets here “Well, why did you take it out of the ground in the first place!”, and I say “I needed to go faster. I wasn’t going fast enough.” In the routine, God is mad because I am ungrateful. In my hopes, I imagine that He holds me instead, and instead of He, it’s her, and she says “It’s alright. I know your sorry, and that’s enough”.
I don’t want to be without you.