Glands Poems | Examples

My Grandmas Delicacies

delightful delectable delicacy
warm cherry peach tart with raspberry tea
I am so glad I was invited to partake
uh-oh, lemon meringue pie and German chocolate cake
what kind of grandmother is this? I ask my ma.
The kind whose baking stole the heart of my sweet-loving pa.
Meringue on pie made my swallow glands salivate.
as a cook and a baker, my grandma truly is great.

Looking Forward to

Looking Forward to

I look forward to 
wringing my 
endocrine glands covering the 
top exterior of 
the kidneys; loving deeply, intensely, first respecting and 
approving the 
toilet brush; the 
new second Tuesday of 
the week.

Life Changing

________________________________________
Life Changing 

In these quiet woods, as shadows spread,  
Timorous leaves whisper my secrets to the breeze.  
A sentinel of time I am among the malus trees. 
My roots run deep in my seed’s homestead. 
--
I stir under the warm sun anew. 
My blossoms blooming bouquets of pink petals fair, 
I stand in beauty, unaware. 
Unbidden but welcome, Spring has made its debut. 
--
My branches grow branches, my leaves bear blades. 
The bees buzzing come, a swarming tinnitus hum, 
My stigma swipes their pollen, my honey glands reward their plumb. 
Such is the dance of life, out of sight, in the shade. 
----
Sated with Spring and Summer, exhaustion nears, 
Pink petals pass. Unadorned leaves leave their color green for brown 
And softly, gently, resignedly, flutter down, 
Dumb in their final moments in the breeze’s tears. 

---- 
Myself, in those moments, stark and bare, I ponder life. 
Its fleeting fare seems awkwardly unfair to the fruit I bore, the leaves I shed, 
My issue are now numbered among the dead. 
But my roots still run deep, insulated from the strife. 
---
A sentinel of stone I am among the malus trees.

RIP CME

Cheers to the CME, a carnival fun, 
Registration sky high, just a pocket - filling run. 

A meet in the past, where ideas reigned, 
Now a plot, these days, where pretense is feigned.

A hunt for souvenirs by speakers,
Goodies sought by eager seekers.

Science and commerce join hands, 
As pharma companies muddle with vital glands.

A booming industry, epidemic in proportion,
Campaigns for votes in skewed distortion.

Voices of substance lost to the phantom,
As the glimmers of limelight have grown random.

Death of Plotinus

Friendly sage from the starless height 
Now dying without fright 
In his human and earthly sight 
The cosmos dimmed its light 
Dying from old diphtheria 
Still his will looked higher 

He lost his voice to teach and greet 
That poured wisdom so sweet 
All he could do was meekly bleat 
Uclers formed on his feet 
Uclers broke through his gentle hands 
And sweat poured from his glands 

“I’ve been waiting to see 
You at last before I am free 
The Divine within me 
I will give back with childlike glee 
To the Good and Divine 
To the highest, beautiful Vine” 

“I have hope for you too 
I will fly the path of the few 
The path that Plato knew 
I am glad you will see me through” 
He said as he leaked puss 
To his dear friend Eustochius  

His friend was by his side 
Glad in the fertile countryside   
A snake slithered to hide 
With logos as his inner guide 
He took his final breath 
Greeting his diligent friend, death 

He left at sixty-six 
No longer bound to fleshly tricks 
Flew above stars and Styx 
Flew high above the craftsman’s bricks 
He ascended to the One 
Thus, his own friendly will was done

Ah - My Olfactory Glands

    Ah! Fresh paint's aroma 
      when I open the can
    like a breeze o'er the meadow
      stirs my olfactory glands

    But then when I’m done
       the tired paint, coagulate
    What a sucker I was ~
       to fall for the bait

Poetic cauldron

Wanna go back to my poetic cauldron, the ink boils within me, pass me the spoon, minds and souls have went long without. Need I be punished for starving the nation, sprinkling my artistic expression, the aroma reverberates with poetic reverence, tasting glands oozes ravenously, sauces of creativity fills my hand, edible to the soul too, 

marinate the mind with creative expressions, like an artist painter, paint spots all over my poetic kitchen, in my artistic kitchen crockery and cutlery of spirit evokes words, fill the cauldron to brim, multitudes are to be served, a poetic meal, entice the smell sense, as appetites widens, one belly after the other,

I serve the voiceless, the trapped, the surrendered and  those who left this this earth not fed, for in my cauldron ingredients of life giving, competes. Lemme put flesh to these poetic bones and feed life back to this poetic body, it's in my poetic cauldron I wanna go back to
#Poetic_Ink

Super Bowl Spectrecle

                 Lidar uncovers what is beneath.
Liars reveal their teeth.
Whores ride a Beast.
Super Bowl Halftime Show Fleecing Theme; 
"pRINCESS conjures up demons,
for her grammy (Lilith) and plays on your 
emotion to not consider what is wrong or evil 
or family worthy.

In the midst of the bright lights and cheers 
of the crowd,
a princess takes the stage, 
casting her hypnotic shroud.
Her words dance like demons,
with eros ascending to the clouds-
playing with our emotioned glands,
with harps, tabarets and cymbals, 
drums to chakra your heart
beguiling us with illusion, 
and persuasion's dark arts.

We cling to her melody, lost in her spell,
blinded to the darkness that lurks, 
wishing us to dwell there with her.
She conjures up emotions, tugging at our core,
but behind the glamour lies a twisted lore.

Beware, dear soul, of the princess so bold,
for her burrowed borrow deceives, 
leaving our spirits cold.
Let not her song lead you astray,
but heed the call of truth, 
before it's too late and you serpently sway."
(..."and if you listen very hard, the tune will come..."
Angel pours out his bowl....

Second Childhood

I am a child again 
I know no loss or gain 
Oft oblivious of pain
Till I  conscious regain. 

Do I wake or sleep, 
I see the stars weep
As they crackers peep,
Am I awake or asleep?

I giggle and lauugh at the sight 
Of rockets of music Fountains bright 
Alzmiers benumbs my plight 
Yet I have heavenly insight.

No need of ball or satchel 
My grandchildren play beetle 
Climates hot or cold lethal 
Our food comes from  hotel.


Thunder lightning and rain
Sounds of toppling towers reign
Sky is filled with smoke and sign
Of corpses and mutilated mein.

Tear glands are dried up
Once I fell to get up
With ease I sat up
Fell me, I'll not get up. 

I see my saviour's Rood
Crushing the Serpent's hood
With words of hope does He feed
Breaking not the bent Reed !

I go out in hood
My strength is not good 
Wobbles the ground I stood
Is it second childhood ?

Trojan Horse

PythonPotamus, "Abaddon" Quetzacoatliciously rises from the pit. 
Helliopolis' ruins remains; "in the thick of it."
Ra, "Familiars the breeze" a God-imposter, sedicious, piece of Set. 
Set Ing the diodes of scene.
All the same, on demand- 
quid pro troll for human sacrificing... 
icing in their assumed, -
exhumed names of representation-glands, 
Idols in strange hands.
Decorating blue, 
filling with strangers to one's own land.

Paradise Lost, seeking ills, -ills, ill gotten gains.
Kismetic Frosts relations 
of cover-incestuous-religions 
summoned in symbiotic trends, 
of the means of the end. 

On Alien soil, Ra, soon to return 
to asphyxiate freedom's change, of wind, 
whisping death's-bloom. 
DeCoffinated break, drink !
Skywriters, Contracting...
Watching in aiding abetting, the elites. 
The discreeted
scuttled upon the otherworldly-
Chariots called PleasureCrafts and Triremes and Juggernautivity Nets. 
Lasers to strain in loom, everything you say or do- 
you... buy, sell, eat, drink, breathe, think?
Utopia, Trojan Whores Riding a Beast.

Elements

Existence is the cauldron where elements brew
Earth, water, fire and air, are in space entwined
Each has unique attributes, maintaining life
Cognised by presence when they are aligned

Holy Spirit grazes form, beginning at root of spine
Earth comes alive, as blood begins to flow
Two thirds of the planet is water; we are likewise
We feel in stillness, our sacral water centre glow

Energy ascent continues, igniting fire in the navel
So enlivening and comforting is magnetic heat
But what avail the spark, if there be no movement 
Breeze of air obliges, making our heart upbeat

Thus from root to sacral, navel and then our heart
Grace activates all elements and body glands
Passing through throat corresponding to aether
Into the head ovoid to cognise God’s heavenly lands

Ancient Hermitic wisdom affirms: as above, so below
Made in God’s image, we represent the whole
Five senses, elements and electricities as yet unknown
Oh hermit, we ourselves are the light, scriptures extol

Fibromyalgia Strong

Fibromyalgia pain, unbearable at times
Is only good for turning in to rhymes
Bending is a problem with pain throughout
Regular twitches and spasms of doubt
Obnoxious frenemy causing woe
Morning stiffness from head to toe
Yawning constant every day
Aggressive and hard to keep at bay
Ligaments, tendons, muscles all sore
Gastro tracts feeling poor
Insomnia making for sleepless nights
Anxiety, depression, memory fights

Swollen glands, shooting pain
Temperature swings, damn migraine
Ribs hurt, back aches, itchy skin
Out of order, BUT not giving in
Nerves all frazzled, Fibro is rough
Gives us hell, BUT we are Tough.

Overstimulated, Perhaps

An Ex-President goes thump
    No one jumps
  Current President falls
    America harrumphs

  Apathy abounds throughout the land...

  What moves people, what stimulates their glands
    Why, transgender rights, late-term abortion bans

  Trump and Biden kiss! ~ Jill does a headstand

Lady Macandroid

Half flesh, half steel, sinews and twined wire,
Begotten in the heat of half-love, tempered
By hatred and the axe, fathered by one
Who killed her mother, the male chauvinist boar
Whose eye-teeth, razor-sharp, saw through the spine, 
Joy-sword in sheath. Wrought iron, blood vessels,
Bone and cable, one part conceived, the other forged
On the hard anvil where gusts of blood are seed
Of all the axeman most does fear – cast iron woman
With stanchions for a trunk, iron breastplate,
A malleable black heart, a metallic chastity belt
No man may boast of stealing and still live,
Who beats men at their own battle games,
A dab hand with the axe herself, as salty tears
And globules of mercury exude from grey glands

T-Rex

T-Rex, T-Rump both have small hands
and small pituitary glands.
In waving arms, you thought he did
an imitation of a kid
who had a disability,
But he’s a Rex, down to a T.
With stunted emotional growth,
he mocks, insults, and waves them both.
And now DeSanctimonious...
the best this has-been can give us?
I liked him for a while; I did,
but he’s a toxic little kid.
I long for fiscal policy;
DeSantis is the one for me.

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