Best Mutants Poems
a disinteresting air
another gaze
within a full length mirror
a persnickety grimace
bandaids
the severed slices
of crystal
sleeping
within my
larynx
excuse my idiotcy
not utilizing
punctuation marks
cmon darling
please please
warrant my arrest
dementia is not covered
under my insurance policy
but
cough spit
mutants
like myself
somehow survive
religiously pathetic
empathically morose
sympathetically laughable
one last day
one fleeting
precious
moment
the rifle is gently removed
from an uncolored mantle
periwinkle would have
been my palor of choice now
Say ah and place
the hunter's
metallic eye
strategically
down your throat
everything is pretty
everything is so goddamn
wonderful
sweat on my forehead
sweat on the trigger
one deep breath
one more for good riddance
go my sweetheart
cmon
pull it
i said pull it
for a starved beggar's last day
will be
righteously
and
magnanimously
honored
by himself
I bought the "hugest" pot I found
It's very tall, extremely round
I had enough with four teenagers
Killers of eardrums and Pizza beggars
I Googled recipes for "Turtle Soup"
I dreamed of flavors, carrots and this "group"
Leonardo, Michelangelo, Donatello and Rafael
Mutants in green - they jumped and almost fell
When coming in my kitchen they all at once in awe
"Mutant Ninja Turtle - The Gourmet Recipe" they saw
*
So now I quietly enjoy my veggie soup
A slice of pizza and an ice-cream scoop...
www.scripca.com
For Destroyer(Poet's contest: Turtle Soup
...Continued from Part 1...
Poor little Evelyn, her poor physical conditions at birth puzzled local doctors,
It was a mystery she was born with a dislocated hip and a deformed right foot.
And evidence of bone damage whilst within her mother’s womb, that happened,
9 months of exhaustive tests, Evelyn the baby is confirmed a OI type III patient.
Today poor Evelyn is small in size, as typical of OI patients, her mobility limited,
She is constantly in need of a new body and leg brace with special shoes fitted.
With an anxious and loving mother and sessions of unending physical therapy,
Evelyn must have monthly doses of intravenous drug to increase her bone density.
At 4 years old now, imagine the frustrations and the helplessness in Evelyn,
She knows she is different, why she is so fragile, her little mind cannot fathom.
All the various injuries and the many broken bones about in her tiny body,
Life is such a challenge, why is she born so unlucky and so much different.
For every 100,000 individuals, six to seven are born with such dire conditions,
If there had been a more fortuitous mutation at a genetic level, these individuals...
They could have been born as legendary mutants, imbued with fantastic abilities,
But a twisted play in Fate's hand, OI children, they struggle even in normal activities...
Only with advances in Science and Medicine can OI sufferers have a normal life,
With bones so brittle that shatter like fragile glass, they have only sheltered lives..
http://www.star2.com/people/2016/01/03/her-bones-are-so-brittle-they-can-break-like-glass/
Angifi Dladla
BAYEDE
Bayede , Son of man, Bayede!
You who outsmart the invisible God of our ancestors,
You who perfect the creations of the One-Who-Cannot-Be-
Imagined.
Modernizer of flying dragons that drop eggs down on cities –
They whose eggs hatch bouncing chicks, enveloped in
clouds with no linings.
O Inventor of plague-like rain and diseases,
What a mutagen of nature you are!
Bayede, Son of man, Bayede!
With lashes and nails, Jesu surrendered to your cross,
With a red stroke, sons of heaven rot to die in your jails,
With omission and neglect, sages die muzzled and
forgotten.
Yes! You appraise absolute truth and belittle the God of our
ancestors.
Yes! You sentence God to eternity in your prisons.
What a demystifier of God you are!
Bayede, dredge of ocean and land marrow, Bayede!
You who imprison nature and charge for entrance,
You who farm waste to fertilize the sky and the soil and the
waters,
You who crack cells and sells us mutants for cyborgs.
Colonizer of oceans, You’ll soon reside under the ocean,
Colonizer of space, You’ll soon drill the Moon and Mars,
Build supermaxes and nuthouses up there.
Yes! as God-shrike, You’ll lynch angels and the sons of
heaven up there, yes!
But look, O youngest brother of Mu, just look:
We are on the brink of taking a Cosmic Route.
Look, O man who inherited breast milk from Atlantis,
O, no-no, don’t borrow Madam Lot’s eyes.
Look, and listen to your heart: The voice within
is the call of the Cosmic Brotherhood!
The contestants gathered short and tall
Two-headed mutants lined the wall
Aliens from galaxies far away
Rehearsing, should they win, what they would say.
Some stood naked, though you couldn’t tell
Others wore apparatus and suits so swell
I heard one contestant shouting, as he drew his sword,
"You will NEVER win the Spaceman Of The Year award!"
"I will SO!”, replied the Scorp with one eye,
“But since you’re so smart, why not share with me why?”
“It’s obvious”, replied the first, clenching his eight fingered fist,
"You haven't the love of humanity for it!!!"
“What does humanity have to do with this all-alien ball?
SpaceMAN is a term that encompasses us all.
Humans are not the only special race,
Every traveler from space has shown up in this place.”
The Phlaglon turned red biting his upper two-lips,
The best he could come back with was, "Get OFF my spaceship!"
Then the lights started to dim and the spot-light came on,
They started to play The Spaceman of the Year, Victory Song.
The two aliens stared each other in the eye(s),
Each one hoping they would win the prize,
But when the announcement was made and the winner was a Grup,
They shook their five hands and had a drink to make up.
Entry in the Poems to Movie contest
Drifter, vagabond
On the run from his phantom
Nipping at his heels
Shadow in the night
Slipping through the crevices
Of his own two minds
Past the rolling hills
Splashing ‘cross the black river
Into the new world
Men with winged shoulders
Gliding through the mystic clouds
Mutants rapt in smog
SLAVERY
.
They said;
If I count, and I walk twenty-two steps back
I will find death somewhere in mother's eyes
They said;
When I'm twenty-seven, and I become a man
I will read meaning to the jargons on my palm
.
They said;
If I begin to find fun when girls raise their skirts
I will lead a busy, and a bloody course to death
They said;
If I seek comfort from the cold caress of beer
I will lose my spirit, and heaven doesn't care
.
( But who are they? )
.
They are the men who have conquered hell
And have massacre the living proof of mortality
They are the priests who call us brethren
But knot our tongues off the taste of humanity
They are clergies, in turbans, who speak spells
But teach us that magic is evil and brutality
.
I have read from the Bible, and the Qur'an
I have found nothing but the truth of slavery
I have seen what the books make of human
I have heard how they jeopardize our bravery
I have had a taste of how we become mutants
I have seen them subject our sanity to mockery
.
( This is how to steal your freedom )
.
Touch gently the two thousand and seven teens
Feel those prophecies, see if any has come true
Sleep, and make lust a woman in your dreams
Check if the day will break upon your face too
You shall know the truth, and shall grow wings
Then you can fly from the slavery you pray to
.
.
Micheal Ace
#magicalpoetry
©ACEworld
Great are the follies of haughty man through the times ,
Imposing his will on fellows, changing the climes,
Playing god for some silver , acceding to greed.
Always striving for more , wanting more than his need,
Sowing seeds of dissension , destroying his breed,
Meddling with nature , man destroys nature and earth.
He's restructured the genes, to mutants given birth,
His junk - food is unhealthy , adds weight to his girth;
The surgeons mint money with their nips and their tucks.
The atom's been tamed , corporations make big bucks,
The innocent public just ran out of their lucks;
Politics and religion determine one's fate.
I'm not against progress , but am sorry to state,
Life's more than money or power , pleasures to sate;
Love and compassion to one and all is what counts.
Drink of the wisdom in Good Books, drink from their founts,
Make good use of progress, scale good Karma's mounts;
Life's purpose is not sowing destruction's seed.
Playing god for some silver , acceding to greed,
Meddling with nature , man destroys nature and earth,
The surgeons mint money with their nips and their tucks,
Politics and religion determine one's fate,
Love and compassion to one and all is what counts,
Life's purpose is not sowing destruction's seed.
~07 Jul 2016~
12 syllables per line checked via www.how manysyllables.com
Cursing and cutting bleeding and boiling
Undressed and undone...like a microscopic maggot now scorched in the sun
Strung out and strung up
Feasts of flesh...decomposing...devolved...deterioration
Anti-creation
Over the limit and over the line over the counter...my drug is to die
Gold unto giants and silver to swine
Drunk on divine...water to wine...dead end drives that lead to destruction
Evil eyes crying...soon dry...evaporation
Anti-creation
Saints get slaughtered when lambs turn into lions
Cold cash currency...now nobodies buying
Frozen in fires...fiends now frying
From the lost and the living to the dead and the dying
From fears to frustration...anger to annihilation
Anti-creation
Sewer mouth scapegoats are buried and burned by propaganda puppets
Red moon riders ride shooting stars
From the nuclear blaze a bad beast is born
Scarlet is sin...savage is scorn
Ripped and torn
Ravaged and tangled
Mangled by mutants...minions set to start a mass mutilation
Anti-creation
Born in a radioactive life with few friends
Rejected from a place he never felt was home
He finds himself stranded and alone
His eyes blinded by the sun
Armed with only a baseball bat and a empty gun
The world tears at him with hungry jaws
A scorched world with cold hearts and no law
Attacked by raider, robots, and death claws
The dusty capital wasteland he roams
Scavenging the ruins of a desolate world
Super mutants appear around every turn
The lone wanderer finds a flamethrower and makes them burn
Their collection of mutilated organs make him want to hurl
Searching for his father and food for the day
The lone wanderer hopes and prays
Revelation 21:6 I am alpha and omega the beginning and the end
Bloody footprints mark where the lone wanders has been
Scars mark his wounded heart and are etched in his skin
Favoring a shock sword and a 44 magnum
Custom armor most wastelanders couldn't fathom
The lone wanderer carries the maximum
Sailed to point lookout and thrown in the pit
The cruel wasteland tests his grit
Abducted by creatures from outer space
A life of haste, rugged is the beard on his face
GNR radio keeps him company
The lone wanderer runs about while feeling funky
Finally he found his father
Together, Persuing a righteous goal ever further
Only to die a martyr, his death hits the lone wanderer ever harder
The lone wanderer's wrath! Awakening rage
A vengeful path, darkening days
Kicked out of Jefferson's memorial
The enclave takes over, creating total turmoil in the purifier
With no time to prepare a funeral for his father
The lone wanderer grabs 'Vengeance' the ultimate vaporizer
On his way to vault 86 to find the legendary kit of Eden
The lone wanderer lays waste to many a demons
Troubled by the loss of his best friend,
His rampage across the wasteland begins
O curse of a century
O Calamity of a century,
Enough thieving of precious human life,
Keen we’re to see thy date of expiry.
As plague ye came, hoary thy history,
Unleashing a terror of gravest strife,
O thou curse of this chequered century.
Ye came as flue not any less deadly,
No withered virus, virulent its jibe,
Nor tamed, nowhere seen its life expiry.
Corona as now creepy and scary,
With mutants of many a varied type,
Messenger O of Death from mortuary,
Thought, year twenty had reigned more than plenty,
‘Las, what followed has dug in more than rife,
O Year Twenty-One, when’s thy expiry?
O Tragedy Smidgeon of great fury,
O Crowned Tsar, thy bite sharper than of knife,
Time's ripe to go, hasten but not slowly,
We’re keen to see thy back, better hurry.
________________________________________________
Villanelle |09.04.2021|
Topic: tragedy, calamity
The collaboration between the street and the Y2K mutants had commenced. These 8o’s baby’s filled the night’s air with green lite smoke, and choked back opiate related dreams from white coat masters. These were the city trolls. Forced to bend to society’s creation, of the new crazed sensation. Symbolic doses, hit the millennial air, as many become ready to hallucinate the night away, with a love for everything once ignored. Now the new age scene has turned many into fossilized poppers. As the years trickled away, the rotted souls, which were bought and sold, helped to build up treacherous narcotics related, public sedated, stick-up kids. Stuck with felonious tactics, many became devious. This was now the new age past-time. It was debauchery fitted and fallen into the midnight hour.
Madness was now shared, among those celled up with bites taken out of the family’s love. Years wrinkle into the fold of existence, as the drug fiend and high and mighty pushers create tactics to have pockets full of presidential green backs. These buckeye babies were now renegades forming freelance robbery hits from city to city. This was excitement for the ages. Their dopamine rushed out onto resurrected pipes, as bloody needle points were beginning to fornicate the blue passage. Now underground these were the people infected by thrown away existence. Authors of their own free-lanced hell. A swollen deviation tears threw, like a wicked witch twister. Now crucified by the same authoritative empire they once tried to live by. No longer will family love be embezzled, nor will they be upheld to hear the cruel-hearted deepest sold-off cries.
The blame
Was God wrong when he created
You like you and me like me?
Did he have the right, I wonder
For many seem to disagree
Some were born of certain gender
But one day they came to find
That the body they were given
Was not useful to their kind
Others did not feel too happy
About their features or their shape
How they wished for an alteration
Just as long as they could escape
All the sadness and frustration
The embarrassment and shame
None of this is what they wanted
And on God they put the blame
Why did he not take precaution?
Why did he not know and see
That a person flawed and broken
Can not be completely free?
So they start making some changes
Mind you, they will not be judged
Even if they become mutants
Even if they end up botched
In their quest for sheer perfection
Self-acceptance, inner peace
They are fooled by human standards
And this offers no release
And whatever change they’re making
Because the urge to fix was strong
One thing will remain for certain
God our Maker was never wrong.
Wendy Nipas
Stranger things beacon
these young teen agers
when a bald-headed
professor
saw them individually-telekelically
a girl a Marvel girl
she could perform miracles
can read minds nothing can be hidden
from this red head beauty
next,...
a cool tween miss guided a little mean
pick on lonely so he spend his youth
frozen, he couldn't be nice
so he was iced, a Iceman
next...
kinda athletic
sort of pathetic
funny somewhat elongated big hands
big feet
Hank the hairy Beast
next...
a hot head or should I say
He has an EYE
for destruction he had better not look at ya
Cyclops
next last but not endangered
Rich boy at least his parents are
His name he goes by is Angel
The wings on his back, shedding sometimes feathers in his lap
These teens are strange yes
Gathered together being trained in the DANGER ROOM by
Professor X
mutants in kind
Beyond humans my oh my
Together teen mesh
these are
the
XMEN
11/04/17
WRITTEN BY James Edward Lee Sr. POETMAN -->X MAN
That generation had come, no name
Signed, sealed in blood, became the lame
No perception of time, there was no date
Their hands were scanned entering the gate
Digits, the Matrix had come fulfilled
Not worth a dime, the dollar bill
Stock Market fell through in New York
Great storms, bad weather to report
They all bowed low to the great lord
She never moved, just held her torch..
Nothing made sense, the time dragged on
No difference between you or your clone
Abortion now banned, the cities thrived
Mutants clinging, in need of life
Who is God in all this pain!?
Not one invoked Him by His name
Therefore, the time kept on and on
The One they knew, forever gone