Best Darwinian Poems
dialog with myself invariably involves others
we are all perceivers nobody escapes
no really and truly trust me on this
no manufacturing of childish evasions
maybe it is best to be born into a family
with family values
ablaze with comfort and sanitation
lost in a forest of memories
amusingly arrayed for shoppers
exactly like the TV version
fortunately I was in touch
with my inner juvenile delinquent
unlettered by any known normalcy
nor crazed by the expectation of gold
or even gold paint from a rattle can
our addiction to pleasure
is no Darwinian accident
we really do learn to act from movies
no really and truly trust me on this
our tune is a complicated little number
in several keys at once
upon your mother's pedestal is one
between cognition and reflex is another
in the keyhole universe
location location location
I may need an axe to free my thoughts
just so I can play dumb
when you know too much
you go for the guts
in a trail blazing effort to avoid
media suppression by the CIA
Clairvoyant Intelligence Agency
chronically in for interrogation
OK let's play who's more paranoid
if this poem is minus the above line
then it has been tampered with
754 million hand sewn Humpty Dumpty
nerve connections later
sutured like Frankenstein's test dummy
a bungee cord full of existential tension
I seem to be strapped to a microscope
plunging to new vistas and panoramas
recoil in horror from what you were
behavior can also be modified
by better info if you let it
how's that for mind warfare
pretty propaganda pretty pretty
for the young and the innocent
left screaming in a gas station toilet
wrapped in today's newspaper
comics section puzzle page
how long can the charade continue
when autonomous is still an illegal word
this is an audience participation piece
from the Federal Pencil Council
and for the terminally nostalgic
the night arched quietly above
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Categories:
darwinian, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
O we are all very well informed
how horrible might been our reality
in the time of transition
from one evil regime to other.
When one day all monsters and predators
from the park of totalitarian communistic Jurassic
suddenly exploded out for absolute freedom
according with Darwinian law of surviving,
when cruelty and greediness
suppressed long time
by cruel regime and power
started make big business and police
and comrades from monopolistic party -
the sable tooth tigers, tycoon and oligarchs -
inspired again as hundred years ago
with primarily criminal and degenerating instincts, pretexts and postulates
under the Marxist’s coverage and context,
launched now the new but the same adventure
leading to great social tragedy inevitable,
where government playing chief role of Ti Rex
instead keeping the harmony and sustainable existence
protecting cheeps, rabbits, turtles and others multiple small creatures
from total extinction,
learn them for art of surviving and flourishing
through social interaction and protection
what would left again as unreachable aim and utopia
for our long suffered nation.
Categories:
darwinian, political,
Form:
Verse
From the ashes of superstition,
like a Phoenix we have risen!
As he puts on his White Lab Coat
of Unthinkable Wisdom.
In reality... yet constantly dreaming.
Under a microscope he tries to find meaning.
Building blocks of existence,
a scientist's relentless persistence
to become acquaintances with amoeba,
and lay to rest the concept of Jesus.
He freely yokes himself to Outer Space,
the new found teacher.
As human beings take the name
Foreign Creature.
Oh the absurd games we play!
The Rights of Men and Marriage Vows.
Have we not passed the primitive
worship of common cows?
... and yet consequently we set
up Courts for Carrots,
Lawyers for Lemons.
You think you can argue
for such a thin concept
as the Principles of Free Men?
Morality, she can take a coffee break
(it's only the future of everything that's at stake).
Whose to say that 2+2 doesn't equal five
when we can't even say for certain
that Man is alive.
As Mr. Wisdom
scratches his head and straightens his coat,
he so bravely boasts the edict of edicts:
pray tell what is Good and what is Evil?
Orbital Rotation spins his head around
and stubborn Gravity refuses to give him
the low down.
"I'd trade all the Hows for a single Why!
But the Universe never bargains.
Mirrors reflecting mirrors,
can't tip the scales in my favor
by the slightest margin."
Absolute Truths - we forgot 'em.
Your guess is as good as mine.
We the Soulless and We the Proud
so happily crossed line.
Our make belief code of ethics
simply cannot coexist with Darwinian Violence.
While we keep asking questions
answered two millenia prior:
Why am I here? WHY AM I HERE?
And the stars remain silent.
Categories:
darwinian, analogy, bible, jesus, philosophy,
Form:
Oh Sweet Island! Thou tropical paradise:
Miles have I traced upon thy ceaseless reach
Of ocean-choked shorelines owed Heav’nly device
Sheltering I, this marooned guest on thine endless beach.
Safe House against left alone misery;
Whereby, alongside thine evergreen canopies full
Darwinian mysteries perched high atop their home,
Do I maintain nourished in flesh ‘n faculty
And keep this wit sharpened when blunted dull
Should become elements awash reduced but to roam;
Added all, all for sake of thine increased covenance,
That keener my eyes and keener my tongue
When my throat succumbs thine euphoric abundance;
Pink spilled over warmth -
Else-wise myself, by self, selfishly by now would’ve hung;
For if not for that which is thy sun (may thy sun also hear praise)
My sight might yet be withheld those rare flockish friends
Who keep in time the shared sweetness of functioning words;
Therefore to thee, and to they of thee, whom of wing’ed realm I appraise
As reason unsought are frenzied neurotic ends;
True thanks directed thee and thy mystic splendors; thy talking birds.
Alas, sadly, not even thou distills lunar ascensions
By which subside hopeful rays in thy sobering night;
Nor be those which aviate above as homing pigeons
With beaks to carry silent pleas where may come ends to my plight.
Thus, this I ask thee; What good is time spent when time’s spent alone?
Yes, thou provides: plentiful shelter, plentiful warmth, plentiful food
As well as fiery fuel to fend off critters of strife –
But, this be thy kingdom, not mine. Here, I sit on a remembered throne
Where days threaten months threatened by years in which strangers brood –
Oh, Sweet Warden; Relinquish me! I beg thee on behalf of slipping sanity;
Let this rambling sentence end
So I, once again, may stand by my daughter and wife.
1/28/2017
Submitted for: Tropical Island
Categories:
darwinian, loneliness,
Form:
Ode
When Simba roars,
his den of lions go cheetah white lie
crouching tiger kill for him
His regal, imperial mane
flows on his neck
like a Roman waving flag
Simba paws walk on
sycophant legion fealty
He demands servile porcelain alabaster loyalty,
as he sits on
an ivory throne
of greed nobility
King of the jungle ...
surveys all he sees
His expanding Tiberius kingdom
is his manifest cerulean destiny
Simba the white lion
has hungry indigo eyes,
which Caesar circle the seas
Insatiable appetite ... he must eat
Take the lion share ...
let the gazelles roam democratic grazing free,
until the next voter feeding time
Simba roars his white lies loudly,
with Tarzan dictator authority
Hear the war drumbeat roars —
King of the jungle speaks
predator words of peace and prosperity
But the carnage sounds
in the jungle background
suggest otherwise
For the king of the jungle
has ravenous jaws and bloody paws
Leaving a Darwinian trail
of carcasses half-eaten, and bones gnawed
Simba the white lion
pounces on negligent pray unsuspecting
He saber-tooth mouth crucify chew all caul dreams
Simba the white lion
devours with Cain guile
all Abel-body Calvary chivalry
Today, gazelles be running
in the global savannah, carelessly
Tomorrow, they be resting
in the belly of the beast
The next day after ...
the king of the jungle sleeps —
Dreaming of nothing,
but to hunt and eat
Categories:
darwinian, allegory, metaphor, truth, wisdom,
Form:
Rhyme
In the blink of an eye of eternity,
with ceaseless Darwinian stride
from our earliest stage to modernity,
we dwelt on this earth and we died…
It wasn’t our land though we thought so
while stomping about in our frets.
We rhetorized peace, yet we fought so
throughout our begats and begets.
In a wrinkle of space in infinity
we crowned ourselves king of the sphere,
killing everything in the vicinity
without even shedding a tear.
If only we still could awaken
from dreams that have led us astray
to visions no longer mistaken
of a truly enlightened way…
~ Harley White
Categories:
darwinian, death, dream, earth, life,
Form:
Verse
We Are But A Mere Blink
This blue marble spins like a top
ever forward in time, never stop
Yesterday was a picture so long ago
a bloody river in epic timeless flow
Yet we could never give up our past
memory serves to make love everlast
Time is so like a never ending tree
life never lasts and nothing is free
Life measured by the beats of a heart
future seen looking back at the start
Flesh wraps the soul so hidden within
time erases all that has ever been
This blue marble exists for just a mere blink
Mankind lasts forever, or so WE arrogantly think!
Robert J. Lindley , 08-12-2014
note:
According to research, the universe is approximately
13.8 billion years old.
Scientists think that the Earth is 4.54 billion years old.
Mankind may be as old as 7 million years.
Most scientists would reply that modern Man probably
appeared around 100,000 years ago, the culmination of
a long-drawn process of Darwinian evolution which begun
several million years ago.
Compare 100,000 years against 13,800,000,000 years!
We are a blink....
Categories:
darwinian, creation, earth, space, time,
Form:
Sonnet
Pandemic pessimism
There is no such thing as society.
Forgo forgiving, forget free lunch,
Just plates of debt and toxic punch.
First come first served, no us, just me
Seeking survival in celebrity.
Self serving, Kentucky Fried Credit Crunch.
My savings eaten for breakfast by the finance bunch,
As bran flake banks crumble to muesli debris.
No shields against pandemic sneezes,
Flying flu to all locations new and old.
Green shoots perish in the feverish cold.
Global noses running from a world of weases.
Masked Mexicans wave wearily for Jesus.
Reporters coughing, colic, pessimistic woe.
Fragile families fall like sick dominoes,
Sickening symptoms, spreading diseases.
Good news rushes for the underground.
Talk show wisdom writes the scripts,
With hollow haikus and precripitive lists.
Tabloid vultures’ prey on fame newly found,
Warhol’s wisdom long enough, nothing too profound.
Paparazzi pursuing celebrities big brother missed,
X factor losers, B-listers, now being kissed.
Some rise, some fall, without a sound.
Where is the panacea in poetry?
What, prosaic potions can we really believe?
Written meaninglessness about nothing to achieve?
Nietzsche, Kafka, notes of Dostoyevsky?
Do I really want to be?
A pointless poet? Conspiring to conceive,
Of life as cruel; where I have been deceived.
Pessimism stays away from me.
‘Am I bovered’;do I really care?
For creative words, life’s of optimistic scribes?
Zimmerman singing ‘It is all good’; positive vibes?
New gurus proclaim there is nothing to fear ,
Answering questions I always held dear,
‘Blogging in the Wind’ as cynicism dies.
E- Poets rejecting Darwinian lies,
Finding meaning in ‘constructing authenticity’.
Categories:
darwinian, politicalwisdom,
Form:
“Boys will be girls,
and girls will be boys”
Utter false parenting
The power of impotent suggestion
by the ignorant immature
God made the male and the female;
and at birth,
it’s womb evident navel plain to tell
Gomorrah girls will be Bela boys
Changed genitalia minds
are gonna walk
down the aisle
like a Bride of Frankenstein
Gather ‘round the closet campfire,
Darwinian boys and girls
Listen to some evolutionary jock shock tales
of baseball leather love
for hard diamonds and cold pearls,
stroked by velvet gloves
Id disorientation: It’s a New Age sexual theme,
the corporate suits
sell a lot of hybrid products of male femininity
And even more of the hormonal reverse it seems
Bela boys will be Gomorrah girls
Changed genitalia hearts
are gonna hit
dat adder moving, morality target
with da Cinderfella darts
Bearded boys
razor living in their estrogen doll houses
Ponytail girls
panty changing into testosterone spouses
Unnatural selection ... spiritual rebellion
Gomorrah girls playing mean soldier boy games,
Bela boys singing girl blues, such a bosom shame
The more bod sexes make the gender change,
the pod mental breakdowns all look the same
Third gender is so androgynous wrong,
Mrs. Lara Croft once was Mr. Indiana Jones
And future tomb raiders are gonna find
a third gender class of human gen-eng bones
Lofty laboratory gender transformation
of the surgically altered physique
Changed body ID specimen specification,
third choice oft be motive oblique
Bela boys love to role like a girl,
Gomorrah girls dress play the other way
Unnatural selection ... Zeboiim hellion
Girls changing into boys,
and boys changing into girls
As the natural light dims,
dark Admah desire
changes the face of the world
Categories:
darwinian, bible, confusion, gender, wisdom,
Form:
Ode
Mel got knocked up very early
when out playing the field,
then she went and murdered it
before it all got ‘too real.’
Now her baby haunts her dreams,
and she sees only perdition,
there’s a reason we don’t kill kids,
there’s a truth behind tradition.
Allan called himself ‘open-minded,’
and said ‘he would never judge.’
He’d let anyone into his house,
be they poor, homeless, or thug.
One day he woke up and found he
no longer had a television,
still he refused to make judgements,
blind to why it’s a tradition.
Sue was an empowered type,
she “did not need no man!”
She went ahead and had a kid,
to be raised by her own hand.
But now the boy is out of control,
and her pay-check’s but a pittance,
with no husband to share the load,
as was done by tradition.
Mark was a male feminist
who stood by to help his ‘girl.’
She was a strident activist,
she was his entire world.
Until he learned a Hell’s Angel
upon his true love had ridden,
there’s reason men should act like men,
not by chance is it tradition.
Jane, she was a young GI,
one of the very few
women who had passed the tests
Aal male soldiers must do.
Where her squad was over-run,
her captors laughed in derision,
She knew what they planned for her,
a dark and horrible tradition…
Rick was a damn millionaire,
quite blessed by inheritance,
never had to work a day,
nor a toiling hour spend.
Still he sent out resumes,
surrendered to the repetition,
to have no task would drive him mad,
he needed that male tradition.
Sure we know some had to go,
discrimination comes to mind,
but the bulk of them still remain,
and I think most folks will find
these ideas stand the test of time,
face Darwinian competition,
those that survive all the world’s trials
are entrenched as tradition.
To seek change for it’s own sake,
is a foolish waste of time,
a vanity of success and wealth,
a byproduct of good times.
But this world is a ruthless thing,
with nonsense it’s not smitten,
to survive at all is a great fight,
your best weapons are traditions.
Categories:
darwinian, culture, how i feel,
Form:
Rhyme
Why is it so much harder
to lose than to gain?
Why does what we don’t possess
plague us so much, while all we have
is so abundant?
Is it a kind of Darwinian determinism?
Determined to hunger for what we imagine?
Gratification devolves into disappointment
in an instant.
Like food fed into a grinder,
Pulp recycled into new hungers.
If I could lose my hunger,
Maybe I could lose my loss?
©dbyrne jan 2014
Categories:
darwinian, loss, lost,
Form:
Free verse
Once thy future spouse (Abby Zison) found herself in the family way
(with what would turn out to be the first of our two daughters – i do say
determined and sealed the decision per our rolling in the figurative hay
to wed said mother of thine deux female progeny
on an agreed (in Linkin Park) upon a green day.
Both of us happened to be older grown offspring at ten times thrice
Or three plus decades to be generally precise
our fate sealed sans no hup hauling clay dice.
Said age difference approximately a year and a half between us two,
and miserably living with parents, which o’er the years rancor grew.
I agreed to pledge my troth on the premise this writer
(christened Matthew Harris) aka king o one scott the lighter
found himself in the throes of becoming a potential mister mom)
per one dominant seminal striver a darwinian foo fighter.
Since neither of us took any precautions and thru caution to the wind
the inevitable (i.e. a so called bun in the oven) nonetheless
tasting supposed verboten fruits branded us as having sinned
took us by surprise and got us necessarily biologically pinned.
Even though a decision to tie the gordian knot (more like a noose)
per donning the role of future father tightened and n’er got loose
an inner conflict jostled thine inner being
against forming a legal wedded union – the deuce.
Prior to taking that legal vow to be husband and wife
until death doth us part before the justice of the peace
(which building matter of fact, happens to be
a hopper, skipper and jumper
from where this seat experiences posterior strife
because this gluteus maximus constitutes on bony ****
as if being cut by a knife
matrimonial bliss seemed like a pipe dream
in subsequent years only to spiral into a maelstrom of chaotic life.
In truth, the prospect to marry
in general mills and aforementioned gal in particular
hardly filled yours truly with giddy excitement
but a decision this troubadour wished to defer and tarry
even as of this writing thoughts meander envisioning
the bachelor life - since daughters grown and I feel self confidant
to manage the unforeseen challenges of life, and hence less wary.
Categories:
darwinian, how i feel, introspection,
Form:
Personification
The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Sixteen
Who dreamed this dream also dreamed he was dreaming all alone:
Tail-end swish of winds barely pulled up the lukewarm afternoon
Cob love-bound with pen from Down Under clad in ruby and black
Emerged among mute and complacent bevy of milk-white bone
Was it the dream of the Other Self? Or the love-lorn Bard’s?
Dreaming they’d for an instant slip through the sluice of Time’s
guards
To ease the pain of a locked-in fateful reality bane
Are there as many universes as there are caring gods?
Two teenage mates promised by parents with an eye on lineage
Linked in self-contained charm among feathered-kind old adage
All conscious of their bridal status’ precious caste crimson stakes
Their marriage to recognise children romped at the water’s edge
Two darling loving non-Mutes on their first and last honeymoon
Come from the nether world’s unbroken Darwinian festoon:
Bienvenue! Welcome! Sing songbirds all cloaked in cosy warmth!
We drink to this untarnished couple! O! See Ol’ Khayyam swoon!
All knew ‘tis but the Old Bard in disguise with his Lady Lake
All incarnate in stolen time during their one summer’s wake:
What the purest in heart desire most even stern Gods relent
To watch out of envy what holy emotion can truly slake!
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Categories:
darwinian, love, universe,
Form:
Rubaiyat
nature's way of saying
I love what you do with your tongue
mom used to lick her hanky
to clean my face I want to kill her
aided by my only allies
the hobo armies of doom
resulted in a sweet tooth with no answers
for the impenetrable slits of her eyes
the crowd was aghast
so I knew we hit the glass jaw
now back to the scheduled program
our man Swigheart Backhoe
reports from Flat, Nebraska
on the next Heads of Kings exhibit
down at the Crusader camp
I'm trying to figure out why sperm motility
hasn't created a master race yet
The best of millions fighting upstream like
Steelers' running back Don Quixote
over a million years and we still end up with
politicians with red putty noses that go honk
and readers of the Weekly World News
who renew their state of alarm by the minute
we're not one step closer to kingdom come for it
sperm motility then is as effective an indicator
of Darwinian uber selection
as a chicken on a rotisserie spit
is an indicator of barnyard vitality
you are alive right give yourself a pinch
let's use sperm science to give the 2nd raters
and mediocrities a chance at the brass ova
the modern science of magnification
can certainly arrange for a
shiftless layabout sperm
to take a poke at the moon
enough with this Mother Nature swill
put the couch potato, the hysteric
the derelict pants pissing wino sperm
up the beanpole and see who salutes
Mother Nature eats her young
and writes checks for the
Eugenics Foundation of Savannah, Africa
does God have someone
telling him what to think
so go for it you little tadpoles
get in there you little champions
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.site11.com/
Categories:
darwinian, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
If Darwinian evolution is correct,
then there should exist a continuum of forms,
but what we see with a closer inspect:
that taxa-defining features are norm.
We see hair in mammals, and feathers in birds,
But of ancestral stepping stones, nary a word.
You would expect intermediate fossils,
But this doesn’t bother old Darwin’s apostles.
You see, Darwin posited random mutations;
This is well known, and without refutation.
Of course, he knew nothing about DNA,
But somehow his theory survives to this day.
He studied finches, examined their beaks,
Noticed some changes and took some great leaps.
From observations of the beaks of some birds,
He extrapolated far past the absurd.
None will deny populations adapt,
But he jumped to origins, and folks were enrapt.
The logic employed was exceedingly odd,
But it marketed well, for it rejected God.
See, Darwin knew nothing of what’s in a cell;
Today such a theory would be a hard sell.
But “settled science” has old origins too,
And as we all know, settled’s not always true.
What’s true in the large sometimes fails in the small,
And that is close to the root of it all.
But the ultimate stab in the heart with a knife:
There’s no explanation for the origin of life.
——————
I hope this is the first of a series of these…
Categories:
darwinian, life, science,
Form:
Rhyme