Born in Switzerland, Alphachanneling is the pseudonym of an artist based in Oakland, California. Inspired by, as they put it, “Taoism and tantra, pornography and folk art, BDSM and the divine, the mystical and the occult, indigenous and outsider art”, Alphachanneling creates a utopic world of intensely deep sexual experiences devoid of shame or judgement.…
via Alphachanneling — Phoos
He seems like the type of guy that caters to his woman, who makes her feel wonderful all the time, puts her needs before his, makes sure she’s happy and satisfied.
You seem like the type of girl who could walk all over him.
The more you see how temporary everything is, the more you want to be extremely nice to everybody.
Reminders, from today
To the war veteran on the wheelchair, sitting outside on a warm day
The young woman alone with a child
To the young man huddled in the comfort of his cheap phone
The beggar down the street
To the heavy lady who has to walk under the hot sun
To the bus driver contemplating life as he drives
To the middle aged black woman in a fancy sports car driving home from a long day at work
To middle management who always have to try harder
To leaders who don’t really know what they’re doing
A young woman walked into sky mall.
“How would you like your men, ma’am?” A store clerk asked.
“How would I like my men?” She questioned, slightly annoyed that the clerk hadn’t figured out her extra picky nature by now.
“How would I like my men?” She repeated while thinking out loud. “Just like how I like my clothes,” her voice trailed off into the clouds.
“It has to be the right material to make me comfortable. Made of fabric that doesn’t fuzz up. The perfect color to brighten up my skin. The exact size for my fit. It has to be snug but gorgeous at the same time. It has to be versatile enough to be styled into different layered combinations. I should be able to dress it down during the day and party it up at night. Must be durable and long lasting. Must be a classic style that will always stay in fashion. No polka dots or stripes, please. It must be soft and soothing to the touch.”
“Would you like your clothe to be infused in lotion ma’am?”
“Sure, why not.”
“You are very particular!” The clerk said after finally finding the perfect clothing for her.
“Well, it’s very important to me,” she said while remembering a time she had compulsively bought some flashy outfit that had caught her eye; which didn’t match her lifestyle nor her personality. She wore it probably only once, and never again.
“Make sure you take good care of it,” The clerk advised her.
“Oh, this will last me a long time.”
“Would you like to shop for any other clothes?” The clerk asked politely, yet hesitantly.
“Of course! I need several more shirts, extra pants, and some new sweaters for the season.”
The tired clerk took a deep breath and regretted asking her.
“But, don’t worry, I can buy those any other time. I’m so excited about this outfit, I can’t wait to go home and wear it right away! It’ll be my favorite!”
The clerk exhaled.
She smiled and waved goodbye as she walked out of the store happy.
There’s no greater feeling than when a man claims you completely, when you somewhat fancy him.
Dot on forehead
And the red powder along your parted hairs, like a red brick road.
The smell of roses, temples, and all things holy, heartbreaking, and nostalgic.
The thought of gods and a plate full of flowers for offerings,
Held by arms close to your frightened chest; a plate full of hopes and aspirations for your husband and children.
You are the adorable mothers of the east,
painfully sweet, and painfully strong for the sacrifices you’ve made.
In godly stone icons I see you
In every place of worship, you stand.
I miss you so
mothers, grandmas, aunties
You are so far away in my distant memory.
You shimmer along the flickering lamplights of the hilltop temple with your golden jewelry adorned,
Red beads around your neck and red cotton saree
Red dot on forehead and the red powder,
Holy and auspicious like goddess Laxmi
And I can never be half the woman you are.