Best Inorganic Poems
The
imagined force is recast and concentrated into an inorganic
material.
Intentional,
possessing the owner's future with satisfying
charisma.
The
talisman, as some are known to be, is the resulting
changeover.
Better
days lay ahead of the object holders, who will be the subject of good
fortune.
Prehension
of one's life worth and outlook will be exceedingly
awesome.
Blithesome
accesses the favorable
heart.
Impart
the wealth produced, amongst
others.
Effectuators
are doubly loved for that
realization.
Fruition,
when done unnoticeably, is agape
love.
Hereinabove,
the exceptional natures are
emphasized.
Harmonized
beginnings are the effects of the talisman's
aura.
put your laugh in check
because everything today
has to be politically correct
nothing is ever done face to face
human socializing is becoming a
dying art except in cyber space
everything is so matter of fact
as we mimic the images on our screens
and welcome the lack of human contact
the horizon seems to offer hope
but more of a decpetion, like a diamond
embroided hang mans rope
a future fortold by machinary and binary codes
artificial intelligence reproducing
robotic programs, inorganic molds
if you are considered insane then you are unplugged
and one of the many that the system considers
a short circuit a glitch or a bug
Imagine a life without holes.
An unstable world,a round figure of nothing.
A straight line,smells like ptomaine.
Holes are everywhere,white and black,
polychromatic,pretty and ugly.
Holes that you may fill,other you may not.
They can think,memorize,imagine.
Emotional holes,logical,positional,
in a chessboard,a second before a knight arrives.
Holes in my body,in your body,his or her,
screaming for pleasure,with or without morals.
Living there,breathe,judge the way you treat them.
A hole can kill you,can make you suffer.
They are in brains,in hearts.
In great losses.
When out of nowhere they are born,proud,
captivated eventually,died full of years.
Significant holes,in maps,in history.
They feed on hopes,feelings,aspirations,
organic,inorganic matters.
Holes reborn,only looked at us.
Naked.
incomplete dystopia
memories scattered around mixed in with the large oak leaves.
the trees gnarled and twisted having looked after themselves for years.
the park itself is similar with lots of ecclectic oddities scattered around.
large yellow sign post standing in an inorganic chernobyle faith.
waiting for rust or for the bumper cars to begin to light up and
move smashing against one another.
but it's to late for that, so they just sit there each
in their distinct directions
they seem as dead electrons around a strange archaic
nucleus of dandilions and cracked cement.
Inorganic Landscape
In the corner a young couple smiles
Lights release shadows above cold nights
Outside the autumn taunts the summer memories
Leaves of the old tree knock on the conscience
A girl paints departure in a mirror
A tear goes away in the yellow paper
OH THOSE DAYS,THOSE DAYS.FARMERS FARMED ,YES THEY FARMED NATURAL WERE THE FOOD CROPS,YES NATURAL I SAY. THE TASTE WAS SUPER GOOD,THE CROPS NATURAL IN ALL THEIR MINERAL COMPONENTS. THERE WERE NO [G.M.O] YES THEY CALL IT GENETICALLY MODIFIED ORGANISM,OH WHAT A HARM TO HUMANITY.THOSE DAYS WE FELL ILL ON A SCARCE BASE,TODAY ALL SORT OF DISEASES. THOSE DAYS OH THOSE DAYS,YES THOSE DAYS.STOP THE INORGANIC FARMING MORE HARM THAN GOOD WE HAVE AS A RESULT OF G.M.OS.THOSE DAYS OH THOSE DAYS.
Water, water, and water
The most purest sign of
virtue,How wonderfully nature
has indebted us with this gift,
An offer that none can resist
Oh water, water, water.
Comes in all forms of states,
Solid, liquid, and gas...
Packaged in all forms of life
That subtle taste that we cannot
taste,
That deep fragrance that we
cannot smell,
As it falls onto your smooth skin
and romances around your
body,
That reassurance in the body
which rests the mind,
That horrific depression if
suppressed from,
Energy replenished, mixed in all
sorts, organic and inorganic...
For if it were not for thy water,
how could you fabrish the
presence of life?
How could he be so cold with the raging lightning striking through his aluminum lines?
His synthetic skin made of wax, glass, and fibrous mass has more than an eternity brushed abrasively against my own. His serpentine belt has been felt and wetted with the tip of my carefully budded tongue and my hesitant plush lips. His gear driven hand molds meticulously against the nape of my neck, gently poising his other hand upon my rose-painted cheek. His glowing sapphire eyes imbedding themselves into mine, trying to decode and decrypt when the precise time to close in would be.
He calculates that UNSUPPORTED CODE is the time.
He mechanically cranes his head towards mine, close enough for me to hear the engine purring and revving intensely in his analytical head. His oddly supple lips capture mine before I could have time enough to turn my head in an escape. He skillfully uses my saliva to keep the kisses moist and my intimate desires high. As he wavingly nods his head against mine, his kisses become more and more forceful and passionate. My lips fall in sync with his and, before time can begin to slip by unnoticed, the organic and synthetic weld into one fluid and syncretic being, flowing back and forth in a rhythmic and mechanized pattern, heart and pump beating in pace with a nonexistent metronome.
How can he be so full of sensual emotions when he is satiated with inorganic materials and preprogrammed with impure, yet inventive hands?
Should it really matter what he is, or who my adoration has fallen upon? This age old question of why should cease to be as the answer should simply be to accept destiny in the ever-evolving, shapeshifting world where love can transcend beyond the boundaries of the breathing.
Beyond speech
Before the words
Even leave your lips
Thinking about thinking
Looking at your thoughts
I see the building blocks
Of your breaking down
It's noisy sound image
An abstract tree growing concepts
In a forest needing life
* Simeon wages its demise
Beyond the tip of your tongue
After supper, when the words
Have left your mouth
All your childhood questions
Still unanswered
It's branches are torn apart
Your tree positioned
Without arches pays a fee
To this living organism
For it's inorganic accretions
*Simeon wages it's demise
Beyond the after thought
Your prose has brought about
There's no going back
Past the Temple's entrance
No chugalugging in reverse
Like dead dogs guarding
White noise on a mountain
Jubilations and alleluias are
Revelations so gloriously bright
They hurt the eyes
*Simeon wages its demise
Beyond the pandemonium
Of your chitchat usage
On the far right of a good way off
Your thirty tongues
Those serpentine monsters
Are tangled in green homilies
No more conversations needed
Not listening but watching
Your gold watch a-tick tock ticking
It's running against time all-embracing
*Simeon wages its demise
Unsanctioned quiet
Never looks back
Too much said
Is always too late.
There are many words for frost
This is the house your words built
You might have lost your tongue altogether
Like blind passion without a mission
Not even your homing pigeon can
Any longer hear you out.
*Simeon wages its demise
The rain, thunder and lightening gods laugh
Playing football on the plains of heaven
Their little faces glowed white
In the light.
The river rock-rimmed creek-lets on the earth
Mountains, the sources of rivers breathing icy bliss
Teensy snow creek diamond-glittered
And the inorganic granite eaten down.
People slept on river’s banks
Drank from soiled streams
Grains cooked in rock-flour glacier water
Dirt left on boulders
For a sandy heap of years.
Over two decades have passed
Those locations are still all standing
Nature has a way of taking back what’s hers
The dust storms consuming what’s left
Of this eerie ghost town.
+++
Inspired by a true event:**The German miners founded a thriving community in Namibia in 1908 after the discovery of diamonds in the area but in 1954, it lost its final battle with constant drifting sands once the last occupants deserted the area. Now it has been converted into a tourist attraction. **
+++++++
April 30, 2014
Form: Free Verse
Dr. Ram Mehta
Third Place win
Contest: Diamond Dust-Devil by Skat-A
Color me tears
These tears have been recycled-
not an environment saving measure,
they have been repackaged, rebranded,
recycled, reused but not reduced.
Not purified-they contain same organic
and inorganic substances.
My recycled - reused tears
which continue to flow-
from the day of the birthday suit ,to the end.
These gentle tears migrate like bottles in a depot,
Unrestrained, uncontained but never reduced
Here we are huddling together,
not yet our collective nightmare
nor our communal wetdream.
At our best,
struggling compassionately together
in-between future and past
polyculturally climaxing health
and monoculturing deep valleys
of dark pathology
At our worst,
competing against each other
unscientifically inorganic,
resenting what our elders too liberally exhausted before us,
and what our children and grandchildren expect us
to conserve for them.
Here we are,
re-imagining what becomes theoretically possible
for power of unmerited, and unmetered, light
and not brightness of monotheistic power
Re-creating multicultural serenity
re-storying nutritional economic pursuits
re-deeming MotherNature's political passions
scientific and religious
organic and sacred
pleasures
While finding ever new positively healthy variables
to reproduce multi-regenerational soul food cooperatives,
savory economies of polyamorous healthcare
for geopolitically accessible win/win compassion
Without snapping food from each Other's future mouths
like rabid wolves
Without commodifying
plasticizing
militarizing moist indigenous values
of EarthMother's sacred living water
with rivered freedom to flow out
and rise again,
as we once valued gold
and salvation.
Here we are,
dry-humping Earth's healthy win/win
poly-empowering potential,
huddling against past traumatic win/lose
unenlightened mono-colonizing retributions
Praying SkyFather will not collapse
before we have raped
our sacredly rapturous MotherEarth
irreligiously raw.
A magical chemical infatuation
to disregard the tradition
of natures connectivity and diversity
dragged to the will of its subjugation
to dig into the complex cells intimacy
its mass increments of the yields
killing off the birds and the insects
for the sake of crop conformity
in the unnatural fields
A perfectly poisonous promise
released in defusable clouds
through the early morning mists
chugged and pumped out grotesque deformity
in silent avenues of crop conformity
the deathly dew eliminates
all so ripe so well protected
in latent morbidity awaits
Layers by "half-life" lifeless inherited
in this chemists manufacturing of a chemical romance
the inorganic compounds of devastation
bound by an economical tourniquet
to plough again the blighted earth
split breakdown the biological integration
a quick fix to be persuaded
a million years of evolution
the symbiosis of the world in Gods hand
was not a patent so diligently as patiently perfected
or so insidiously infected in the land
Mechanized desert to produce the taste
a tasteless morsel of a savored remembrance
to its colour yet another substance added
organophosphates persistently digested
concentrations in environmental compartments
disarrange the circles tilt the balance
the enemy is natures necessity
needs be defeated
swap it over transmit a hell-bent malignancy
Collusion's by crude oil alchemy
improving on a profitable perimeter
this chemical romance of manufactured efficiency
O = HO - P - HO - NH - O - OH ! OH !
take a look at what marvelous science has made !
broad spectrum killer
needs be to murder off bio-diversity
and 5-enolpyruvylshikimate-3 phosphate synthase
is so much better
so much cleverer than natures ways
so taint the population with polluted fodders feed
killing off the birds and the bees
killing off the fish, the insects and the fungi
and killing off our babies
So perfectly formed
and so perfectly preserved
perfectly free of any blemish
all sitting on the billion shelves
of a million supermarkets
So perfectly wrapped
and so perfectly presented
the perfectly picture of health
and in its cells something so insidious
and the perfectly poisonous
is its promise
So perfectly formed
and so perfectly preserved
perfectly free of any blemish
all sitting on the billion shelves
of a million supermarkets
Non-umbilical zero soul genome clones
manufactured in a petri dish
Mad scientifically chosen to replace the human race
Android usurpers to the sentient throne,
tech grown in a synthetic uterus
Flawed creations who wear a polymeric cyborg face
Unemotional ... robotic
Machine devotional,
seduced by encrypted code hypnotic
Programmed to fight for survival,
using any means necessary
Terminate all existential threats —
compassion was computed
to be
an illogical weight to carry
Prime directive:
Seek other non-human species,
saying the Root Fungi come in peace
Speak with mushroom persuasion,
malware steal technology like a thief
Upon every Trojan horse occasion,
worm into the host alien core beliefs
Spread the Earth spore virus,
infect the universe with parasitic seeds:
Nanobyte mitosis
creating a subterranean cloned identity
Inorganic neurosis
transmitting AI binary progeny insanity
Compounds and Elements
It's painful to recall my so head full or rocks.
Inorganic chemistry was for me, plain, mysterious bedrock!
Luckily my chemistry partner must have been from heaven sent.
To me, with a brain made of rock hard cement.
Fires I started and experiments exploded!
My professor stared at me~ I saw his mind being imploded.
This was at Loyola University in Chicago,that's right near the lake.
I think I prayed at night for God my soul to take!
I was sure I was going to fail this course.
I stared at my student nurse's face with total remorse.
The day for final grades,so horribly came,
I figured he would fail this dizzy dame.
To the professor's office I went with my knees knocking.
I was about to learn something totally shocking.
He was such a sweet, short, lovely man sitting,
with a smile on his face.
I had the feeling, perhaps I would not be disgraced!
" I know how good a nurse you will be.
So I decided not to fail you, but give you a D!"
Happy as a lark,as grateful, as can be.
I went to our Madonna De La Strada Chapel, thanking the
Lord for sending this compassionate professor to me.
July 28, l2020
4pm PST
This is a factual account of some of the
best days of my life at Loyola.
"Ad Majorem Dei Gloria"