Best Microbial Poems
In pleasantries, orchestrated on our screens,
We live the lives of many men and women,
As if sex could be! We grow, composed of well-cooked pablum
Eaten between long work hours, digested pleasantly.
In a fetal coil, I rest, my optic eye
Doesn’t blink at the silver reticules of my mind:
My body well knit by well-knit engineers,
This me-model makes real tears, running from my eyes.
Of course I’m human – hammered out in school,
Wearing what Designers Club tells me to;
You and I, we can adjust ourselves with tools,
Look down upon the Primitives -- those old fools.
Insulated from all microbial bio-terrors,
Safe from the brute, the thorn, the flawed flower
Blooming wild; we -- kept safe – know no variant weather,
Pity the Primitive, exposed to flood and laser-tower.
Did you see those messages, scrawled upon a wall,
Comparing us with vipers at Adam’s Fall?
There’s not an original thought in what he thinks:
That purist Primitive! His raw flesh stinks!
Computers say it best, and yet, I see
Something –compelling--- in his graffiti:
“O song, sing forth unto the endless skies--
O hear, created stars! You long have looked
Upon all who weep, who ever made outcry,
And wrote it down, in God’s forgotten book.”
written for those in the future--a protest against genetic engineering
My little room...my four walls.
I sit in one of the four corners--
Like an embryonic sac, lifeless in a state of non existence...
Embellishing in the silence as I travel the deserts—of a dusty mind.
I now switch corners... deja vu, the walls are closeting in
Everything is the same except smaller—oh such a hell
To ponder without thought...a holographic Holocaust
A devouring reality.
Each corner of the four walls a prismatic prison...
A convoluted construct—my four walls of the apocalypse
I switch corners again...I see foreverness
An Asylum refuge-sheltering my layering lies.
What am I?...a pensive reject, a pondering fool,
A thoughtless thought... a disconnect of an ancient memory...
I get to the last corner...I see a speck of a thought
A microbial element within the diminishing walls...
Four Walls-contest
Feb.24.2016 ^WW^
He speaks for the uprooted.
A man of sorts, a twiggy Buddha.
He who interprets
the conferences of frogs,
the unpublished works
of kestrels and voles.
He’s an advocate for the underbelly
of a microbial heaven, for every kind
of uncouth animalcule.
He speaks for the bulldozed,
the displaced. The native and
the nomadic.
He tracks the sins
of yellow, metal Caterpillar’s.
He glides over bogs with the frogs.
He moves under tree shadows,
if there are no tree shadows
he takes a bus.
He talks to the bears - they tell him
how things are going in the suburbs.
Swimming pools and trash cans,
have still to be negotiated. There must be a treaty.
He is leafy, kits and coyote love him,
Whistle-Pigs chirp like sparrows; blow their noses
to trumpet his approach.
When ducks quack his many sermons
shotguns misfire.
He is a preacher, a teacher to tics and turtles.
He is the Green Man,
he is not a straw man,
or a hollow man –
he is green
at least for now.
He speaks for the uprooted.
A man of sorts, a twiggy Buddha.
He who interprets
the conferences of frogs,
the unpublished works
of kestrels and voles.
He’s an advocate for the underbelly
of a microbial heaven, for every kind
of uncouth animalcule.
Ancient is he, yet as fresh as tomorrow,
in green ponds he fishes for sunlight.
He plumps grassy pillows,
quilts nests for the slumbering and slippery,
gardens all dewy meadows.
He speaks for the bulldozed,
the displaced. The native and
the nomadic.
He tracks the sins
of the truculent muckrakers,
the yellow iron caterpillars.
He glides over bogs with the frogs.
Slips between the stringy and tall,
if there are no forested ways
he ambles where the wind ruffles.
He talks to the bears - they tell him
how things are going in the suburbs.
Swimming pools and trash cans,
have still to be negotiated. There must be a treaty.
He is leafy, kits and coyote love him,
Whistle-Pigs chirp like sparrows; blow their noses
to trumpet his approach.
When ducks quack his many sermons
shotguns misfire.
He is a preacher, a teacher to tics and turtles.
He is the bosky bedfellow, not a straw man,
or a hollow man – he is variegated and verdant,
a green man for me and thee
at least for now.
We float in spheres of loneliness
On pancake-branes so numerous.
Viewing down a sky-bound 'scape,
A microbial colony of working ape.
Trying to better our genetic canvass --
Or, devolving into primitive madness.
Schizophrenic species of love and hate
That builds, creates and burns to berate.
Our children the elders must engage,
To cool the world of its bubbling rage....
Understandable... the sensible
(three ringed circuitous) logic
to trumpet necessity
each individual moost heed
bedecking, cloaking donning,
ludicrous interloper facial covering,
(I prefer sporting
latest custom made
invisible máscaras faciales),
when commingling amidst madding crowd,
nevertheless coronavirus (COVID-19)
makes laughingstock kickstarting
maniacal paranoid testing yapping
authoritarians blabber ceaselessly
bleak household pandemic
plagues (sear ring)
robust human specimen,
hence yours truly,
a feckless (gibbon) primate
breathes sigh of relief,
why? cuz he counts himself insignificant
absolute zero worth
versus microscopic prickly orb
aging long haired pencil neck geek
best beat hasty retreat
to his man cave
not necessarily avoiding microbial denizen,
yet any potential suffering
scouting out troubadour woefully
jackknifed inept hideaway
availed no choice
rolls out Harris tweed Scottish matt
courtesy minuscule germ man
greeting me with gotcha!,
I willingly surrender
the only thing at stake iz my life,
which would immediately
ebb fate (mine),
automatically buzzfeed chap
offer no chance
for symbiotic relationship
as pathogens indeed choreograph
(dirty deed done dirt cheap)
loft hilly doth waft
through cellular skeins comprising
garden variety/ generic gent
herewith essentially crafting
his poetic epitaph
before onset disables,
disallows, and disvalues
one humble, intelligent, jesting
kindhearted, literate, modest
nincompoop aimlessly adrift
within Brownian movement
(*****sapiens random motions
viewed miles skyhigh)
ostentatious, piteous, querulous,
ridiculous, superfluous, et cetera,
thus forward donations
and/or pledge
(I promise you -
swear to dog
portion of me ashes)
to favorite charity
and will hoop to visit thee as repurposed
noun, verb, adjective, adverb, pronoun,
preposition, conjunction, interjection,
numeral, article, or determiner...
Nothing supersedes health maintenance;
Thus, the evolution of instinctive defiance --
Save for man and his brainy protuberance,
Which clouds the r-complex beneficence
With infinite, self-centered arrogance, meanwhile,
Nothing supersedes health maintenance.
Dino-birds navigate with magnetic reliance,
And sickness is fought without aid, in silence --
Save for man and his brainy protuberance.
Detached from colonies of microbial sentience,
Oblivious as we consume and covet experience,
Nothing supersedes health maintenance.
Where six-legged ancients toil with exuberance,
Even cub-killing toms can't escape consequence --
Save for man and his brainy protuberance.
While parasites devour with horrific preponderance,
Why must we mimic their cold appliance; knowing,
Nothing supersedes health maintenance --
Save for man and his brainy protuberance.
Wireless Armour
Have you a laptop, a tablet, a phone
A wireless device that you call your own
Have you read the studies about radiation?
Do you fear for your health in this wireless nation?
If you are a guy, then this you should know
Electromagnetic studies all show
Sperm count and mobility all greatly reduce
With repeated wireless device use
And if as a woman, you treasure your chests
Radiation and cancer are linked in all tests
So what can you do to protect what you treasure
And still use the devises that give you such pleasure
Wireless Armour, coming soon to your store
That’s boxers and briefs or a bra you’ll adore
Made of a fabric that blocks harmful rays
Tested and tested for days upon days
A mesh of pure silver forms a Faraday Cage
That blocks radiation says the scientist’s gage
The Army, the Navy and AT and T
Without Faraday Cages just where would they be
Communication devices must block errant rays
And Faraday Cages are the only found ways
So they weave silver with cotton to make this new thread
That lengthens the life of the fabric it’s said
And the silver is anti microbial too
Stops the spread of bacteria that’s growing on you
The bacteria’s found on warm parts of your flesh
And that causes odors, leaving you less than fresh
They block radiation, prevent smelly parts
These long lasting garments are off of the charts
So there you have it, the cure-all of all cures
When you fear radiation may be harming what’s yours
Buy a bra or a pair, either boxer or brief
Sit back with your IPad with a sigh of relief
Am I nothing more than shedding skin
The epidermis of a microbial mistake
DNA strands stretched over infinite space
The free flowing prose of linear evolution
Winter hexagons and Summer triangles
Andromeda, Perseus, & the mighty Hercules
Fabled forms of coincidental constellations
Names drawn by our conspiring consternation
As cryptic comets blaze pastel nights
Genesis hypothesized by philosophical eyes
Meticulously immortalized with bound antiquity
Proverbs quoted for fear of a religious ruse
Decried by atheists of heliocentric hues
Quantum physics validating life’s variation
As agnostics attempt to eclipse indignation
But for every Big Bang there is an end
Autumn cannot Spring from nothing
And no matter what creation portends
Intelligence is relative by design
The crust which formed 4 billion years ago,
Only came at the extinction of the molten,
And the microbial mat fossils keenly found
From 3.48bn years ago, came from graphite!
Over 99% of all known species are extinct,
Vital life is just a specification of yourself,
You will influence others for better or worse,
Life is ours and not god’s to mould or sculpt.
Those who are by you truly most inspired,
Will inevitably become strong, bit like you,
To supersede, to survive in another’s place,
Such that humankind is becoming better.
Speciation by niche events is very beautiful,
It codes life by behaviour and not by speech,
Inherited genes are based on action, deed,
Rather than on religious articulations devious.
Mass extinction is not normal, ending comes
To every species of any kind in every society:
Up to half of today’s plant and animal species,
Will be extinct by 2100 without question, doubt.
Death is ok, universal, and happens to us all,
It’s normal, and from it comes something good:
From death’s non-entity, speciation happens,
Which allows life’s structures to flow vibrantly.
Evolution does not exclude anyone, no one,
Not the week, not the disabled, not a starfish,
Every individual’s struggle and pride matter,
And the fit, moral, are modelled and mimicked.
Just in case you wondered...
Yours truly, (i.e. I) quickly
became hypnagogic afore
subsequently segueing soundly
into autohypnosis booklore,
while binge reading courtesy
regarding aptitude chore
treasure trove books galore
five dollars as many
paginated fictitious stories ('bout deplore
hubble basket cases) fit into authorized bag
infernal challenge sifting evermore
alum skid more or less
bending and reaching skyhigh
toe tilly (ejaculating
what the heel) footsore
compromising writing, rather heretofore
indulging insatiable knowledge
(surpassing narcotic fix),
the world wide web hide ignore
engrossed various and sundry
enchanting, kickstarting, and revelling - bonjour
dear reader buzzfeeding...
Till chief hankering
(regarding appeasing passionate
word loving aficionado,
albeit temporarily ceased
(think intellectual fancy feast)
getting imagination (mine) linkedin
outspeeding lightning greased
experiencing cerebral capacity increased
virtual make believe
terra incognita leased.
insatiable jabberwocky yen
countless hours elapsed when
inconvenient wont head sleep
wracked courtesy (bowling) ten
pins nabbed mettlesome ambulation
often found me - hen (pecked) hex pen
sieve dishabille scattered brained brute
somnambulant analogous awake burning ken
kindled smoldering cognitive tinder even...
Chilly cooling off, where
temporal lobed hiatus taken
beefing portfolio in effort to scare
back poetic proclivity despite near
severe withdrawal symptoms
reacquainting novelty here
with effort to jog capacity
to craft poem quite aware...
Unsuspecting readers breathed
sigh of relief interim joker I went absent
posting trademark gobbledygook,
now unnamed fool rushes in,
where angels fear to tread - nay cent
return of native son unequivocally, pinterestingly
digitally... afore written dive versification
brandishing said as unsung literary event
psalm time sacrilegious Jew bull gent
bringing entertainment intent
to thee anonymous
analogously, humorously, and parenthetically
lamely affecting (i.e. poorly emulating)
Shakespearean belles lettres,
perhaps coronavirus pathogen
t'will cut me down, whereby
microbial size Clark Kent,
whoops twas Lois Lane I meant
to empower one meek and obedient
primate even during
but, and, or conjunctive
rutting season quiescent.
Santa’s Trip Way Up There
Santa came to town to find some batteries for a comet mission
Philea probe ran out of energy when landing on a duck shaped thing
Its name is 67P/C-G and is very far away from Earth
It took Rosetta space craft ten years to voyage there
322 million miles from here for what it’s worth
Philea probe needs Santa and some luck this year
To restore and to explore the speeding rock up there
The mission calls for more than just a sled to save the mission
Santa can’t run on milk and cookies any more
A missile or rocket is needed to get him there by Christmas
Athletes get athletes foot you know
Santa, is now an astronaut, so
He must get missile toe at Christmas
Santa needs a power source for poor Philea soon
It fell into a deep sleep for lack of energy
Perhaps he should stop there first to give it batteries
Santa and the probe might discover microbial life together
Just one more comment
I hope he finds at least one snowflake on the comet
To remind him of our Christmas back on Earth
You know; his home planet
11/23/14 “What's up with Santa” – Poetry Contest
Paranoid And Voided
If I step outside my house I’m dead!
There are monsters under my bed
I cannot sleep due to the sheep
They count on my naivety
You know how sheep can be
Cold, calculating, killers to the core
I understand from reliable sources in my head
That I am out to get me
I try to protect me from myself
Used rope to tie my hands behind me
But the rope is really a snake
Cannot be trusted, plotted against me with contempt
There is no mistake
My toys are in a rage and lined against me
Jealous of my powers and filled with envy
Ready to attack with guns and knives
Hidden behind their backs, thirsty for my blood
A delusional pack of savages to persecute me
They chase me down the hall to kill me
Or shoot me in in the back for satisfaction
I need to go to sleep….. but about the sheep….
You understand…. It is sheep
You know how they can be
They are sheep and need no explanation
I’m not paranoid at all but have to tell you all the time
Wash and disinfect your hands before you enter
There are billions of microbial creatures that have landed
Aliens, who come from other planets with a plan
Filthy, unshaved, ugly beings from the dirty universe
Come to hurt me and to place their curse
I refuse to be party to their plan and will avoid it if I can
Hold my head to keep the noise and voices in
Keep the enemy at bay with invisibility and invincibility
Hold my breath forever to keep the germs away
To kill or avoid everything there is
That can be neutralized or voided…. This I pray
As I stare at this blank canvas
I wonder what to create
Should I write what I feel
I ponder if anyone can relate
Art in the form of words
There is no canvas that goes unheard
As I reach deep inside my mind
Gauging what's my biggest crime
I would have to say it's art
Now follow closely because this will get dark
Don't get lost in the shadow of my arch
There is no sun where the sun don't shine
I hope you listening close because that was a punch line
Art comes in many forms
I try to create outside of the norm
I was pronounced different from the day I was born
Now don't get torn
This is not sympathetic art
This is real raw lay out your heart
I make a puzzle out of my words
I like using synonyms antonyms and verbs
Not a shattered illusion
But a microbial infusion
Tell me can you follow
A canvas so hollow
Bruised at its outer edge
Heart still beating
But inside it's dead
Yet you can't help but stare
Would you buy it?
I bet you won't .. I dare
Form:
microbe infections...
we are ninety percent them...
some are called disease...
termed brain conditions...
paradigms that we behave...
doing this...or that...
symbols are the script...
from words to hologram dreams...
that sketch a present...
war and peace visions...
just chemical driven dreams...
ruling mental waves...
mental aggressions...
too are microbial-dreams...
we wait...a savior...
a microbe infest...
disease to pacify war...
with quieter dreams...
stan sand