The Genetic pool
I’m my father’s son, I carry his genes
He is a part of me that is inseparable
If I hate him, I dislike myself
These days, I’m older than my father
He is my son, and I love my son
Once I saw my father on the bus
He reached out to say hello
Misinformed, I ignored his gesture
Looked out of the bus window
I saw his tears
Wish the moment would return
It is my eternal shame
My father is my son, I think of him
Gently.
The last poem in my new collection
MA headline in the red tops,
Tabloid front pages as well,
A story the media vied
To be the first to tell.
A Revolution in medicine,
Really something very big,
The first time a human
Received the heart of a pig.
A little genetic engineering
Was all they would need
And so with care they bred
A pig of a suitable breed.
They took time and effort
So that they could prepare
For a successful procedure
And after surgery care.
He got a new life
His dreams came true
Once again he was able
To do things he used to do.
Only one slight problem,
In trees he would start to snuffle,
And, going down on all fours
He’d start to hunt for truffle.
GENETIC FOOTPRINTS
EMANATING WITHIN HEARTS OF MORTALS
ARE GENETIC FOOTPRINTS BEQUEATHED BY CELESTIAL ESSENCES
WANDERING UPON THE IMMENSITY OF A DYNAMIC TIMELESSNESS
VENERATING ENLIGHTENED SPIRITS EXPLORING ENDLESS SPACES
ILLUMINATING DARK ENIGMATIC PORTALS
One uneventful night, I had an interesting thought that *****sapiens,
might be the by-product of wandering space explorers from a different time
and space, with the instinct and desire to travel far and wide, to seek for
answers of their origins and wished to touch the face of their Creator, but
unfortunately ended up living on planet Earth for a period of time before
continuing on. Questions and desires that sound and feel familiar to us
humans?
Just a thought...
October 2013
Aboard cruise liner:
"Splendour Of The Seas"
Water droplets on the window
Cascading down the surface
-- on the surface level, the water shows itself but --
It doesn't know
When it will fall
When it will fail
It doesn’t understand it’s deepest desires
-- it’s makeup
- humans are made out of h20
Copernicus could not slumber
With a maid on his cucumber
For good or bad
My mum and dad
Resulted from any number *
*National Geographic's Geno 2.0 project
reported my mother AND father share
the DNA of Copernicus)
The Genetic pool
I`m my father`s son I carry his genes
He is a part of me this is inescapable
If I hate him, I dislike myself.
Now that I`m older than my father
He is my son you can`t help but loving
Your son
Once I saw my father on a bus going
Into town, he reached out to say halloo
I, misinformed, looked out of the window
I saw his tears.
Wish this moment would come back
It is my eternal shame.
My father is my son I think of him gently.
Donald Trump was as stumped as a man can be
"How could LeBron James be anything like me?"
A wise old owl
Commenced to howl
"Quite different branches grow on the same tree!"
Genetic Lottery Wheel
Playing the genetic lottery wheel taking another spin
Hoping it will pass me by but I always seem to win
Placed around the wheel various illnesses and diseases
Addictions, mood swings or joints that ache or freezes
Diabetes, high blood pressure, and osteoporosis
Thank God I haven’t hit the one with tuberculous
Just the other day I was lucky to hit fibromyalgia
On the genetic wheel even has a place for nostalgia
I know this isn’t an illness or disease but cruelty I believe
They give you a quick glance back on how it use to be
The wheel keeps growing and more is added each day
But everyone has their own wheel with its own display
We can’t choose if we win or lose or what we will get
But maybe you will be lucky and hit the flu or night sweats
Good Luck!!
So you’re her saviour
God’s gift to woman to savour
Six packs and thorax like a superhero
Shoulders bulging like a Mandingo
So you’re a romantic, a charmer
Body built like a hummer
My role as decided by this lottery...
Jealousy for this great robbery
A senseless inference
She’s a woman of great deference
A notion your eyebrowage fails to apprehend...
The indifference to the delicacy of a rose in that vice like hand
Return to the caves
And stop breeding in droves
So I can never have her hand
Because she’s wired...
Going to hell and back
Definitely no fun
I’d still take that journey if it’s called upon
My genetic makeup demands me to do so
Willing to put my own game on pause
to oversee the progress of an entity
that has no real bearing on me.
To see such despicable actions
spin around on an ungrateful axis
leaving an undesired taste,
Bitter for the moment,
Sour in the long-term,
The pulp of the juice went to waste.
I exercised my ability to remain
but not when having spit propelled in my face
Deep down the sadness will settle until the ordeal can be displaced
The energetic consumption is totally misplaced
The results may not have a happy ending
I had a special interest
I am not wanted
Nor appreciated
So why continue to nurture if the priorities are in another state?
I am rewriting my genetic code to unload my responsibility
No person should be left behind but in this hypocritical case
I prefer to keep things clean rather than develop any more hostility.
Her green thumb was legendary.
She grew lemon, peach, apple,
even grapefruit trees from seeds,
after she ate the fruit.
Her last years, in government housing,
and restricted from growing plants
in the postage-size plot
fronting her apartment,
she gathered pots,
filled them with color,
and set them along her walk.
Seeds fell from fading blooms,
and took root among the rocks.
Her moss rose, petunias, sweet peas,
flowering almond, and variegated sedum
thrive bountifully in my garden,
years after her death, a fitting tribute
to her love of nature.
They speak to me
of her presence with the living,
and offer promise of future reunion
among the blossoms.
CFA© 6/6/2014
GENETIC MEMORIES
The taste of sea rules in my blood
my spirit answers soar
a pound of chasing beats my heart
my feet stand wetting shore
There's no trite answer I can give
when screaming white night calls
This thrill is not a simple joy
To it I am enthralled
How passion’s seeds ignite in us
is not my word to say
But with spring bids the north bound seas
I know I'll be away.
V Anderson-Throop 2013
humid, early morning
rain-soaked shrubs
inhale...
FLASH!
olfactory
recognition:
.....pine forest morning
after the rain
my senses clear
confidence positioned
higher plain of existence.............
Virgin birth now possible,
invitro fertilization....
Science cloned embryo,
immaculate conception.....
Today........
I went to Green Key beach
with you behind my eyes,
your daughter had a silver net
to fill with my surprise
Twenty years slipped through
the holes with seaweed and
the shells
of broken hearted memories
but still I feel the swells
of thirsty tides that rose and fell
with all our hopes and dreams
your daughter sings our song so well
and she knows what it means
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