Long Cellular Poems
Long Cellular Poems. Below are the most popular long Cellular by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cellular poems by poem length and keyword.
Death is not a final, static cessation, but rather a transformation, a continuation of energy, and an essential part of the biological and existential cycle. While the individual consciousness or organism stops functioning, the components of life do not disappear.
After the heart stops (clinical death), cells inside the body do not immediately die. They begin a process of degradation that takes hours or even days, during which they continue to function at a cellular level. The cycle of matter comprising a human body is never destroyed; it is transformed and recycled into other forms of life, such as returning nutrients to the earth to support new plant and animal growth. The bacteria, fungi, and microbes that inhabit a human body continue to live, thrive, and decompose the body after death, continuing their own life cycle using the resources left behind.
Life, as we understand it, cannot exist without death. Death provides the necessary space and resources for new life to emerge. If organisms did not die, the planet would be saturated, and the evolution of new life forms would cease. Death ensures that generations pass on, allowing for adaptation and continuation. The energy that powers life—metabolism, movement, thought—continues to move through the ecosystem, transforming from one form to another rather than disappearing.
Many viewpoints suggest that “death” is merely a transition of awareness or a shift in the state of being. Some philosophies argue that consciousness does not end, but rather transitions into another state, sometimes described as returning to a universal consciousness or moving to a different dimension of reality. Death is often viewed not as annihilation, but as a “rebranding” or transition from one form of life to another, similar to how a caterpillar “dies” to become a butterfly.
Death gives life its urgency, meaning, and structure. The knowledge that life is temporary (death) provides value to the time spent alive. It drives creativity, love, industry, and the desire to make the most of the present moment. Without a final chapter, a story has no structure. Death acts as the boundary that allows life to be experienced as a complete, coherent experience.
Oh ...I will not! ...see you ...left... crepuscular ones!
though I turn my eyes away from your visceral hungry-ed movements, your quests
to be fed in shadows, the babied darkness on ink tip of night ...upon which you suckle
I do not, I will not, witness your skulking muscular moves with sonorous cellular revulsion...
NO! I will dissolve your desultory moroseness with this transcendent blade
So opulent and exuberant is THIS...unsheathed light!
Oh You, like the Halcyon...nesting in your only twilight...only one night ...are you too cynical for any other day or time? ...and filled with jealousy ...like the penumbra?
neither fully dark nor fully light...your painful "shades of...gray"
will simply milk away ... when shielded by loves might
I’m finally going to get on that platform
on the 18th of next month,
for a first-time, one-time performance.
The once, seemingly impossible will come fully true,
which seems like a lot narratively.
It’ll be like leaving home—but we’re crashing out.
Moving on to other plot points, big topics and intense missions.
We’re all caustically optimistic.
Although there’s a cellular-level pull to move on
we can’t help but feel a hesitancy to jump into our multifarious futures.
We’ve never been improvident.
In my personal pool of experience, when I feel alone,
friendless and unseen, this unintelligible fear noise arises,
and I'm tempted to tap out. But I never have.
.
.
Songs for this:
walk but in a garden by LLusion
What Dreams Are Made Of by Evann McIntosh
I Like You (A Happier Song) [feat. Doja Cat] by Post Malone
Uncle Clyde ain't impressed by all this facebook, twittering, tweeting and such!
He would just as soon use two old soup cans and a string to keep in touch!
To him a 'text' message is a sermon from the pulpit by the preacher guy!
Needless to say, all this new-fangled technology has passed him by!
His kids gave him a Kindle to read by but he consigned it to a shelf.
"Fiddle faddle!" said he, "If I want to read a book I'll choose one myself!"
The kids gave him a brand new Dell computer and it's still in the crate.
He'll continue to use his trusty Selectric 11 - he ain't about to update!
He is happy with his Brownie box camera that he's used for fifty years.
Since most everyone now use digitals, he gets sniffish looks from his peers!
He has no use for cellular phones or folks who use that kind of stuff!
Clyde considers such bizarre contrivances just so much useless fluff!
He doesn't need a laptop - he has one upon which his dear old cat can snooze,
And he won't subscribe to cable TV and pay those outrageous monthly dues!
Clyde'll tell you what to do with your blackberries, ipods and all such like!
'Tis best his quote be unsaid, but delicately put, he'd say, "Take a hike!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Our modern society is very deft
at exposing our bodies to emfs.
Wifi at the office.
Wifi in our homes,
and of course those emfs on our cell phones..
We live in the time of instant connections but
whose looking out for our bodies protection?
Electric companies replaced augmented meters
to eliminate the cost of meter readers.
Apartment and condo dwellers absorb the cost
in their bodies cell damage and cellular loss..
Whomever thought that smart meters were smart
when they cause cancers and impact the heart?
Companies now marketing shielding products
but they often appear unworldly, and some what robotic.
I guess I'm too old for this wifi wave so I'm off to
the hills to look for my cave.
Brain, heart, and skin all electric
all conduits to awareness.
That kind of electricity flows outward.
Eyes reflect our electricity.
The mothership,
the flesh and bone, the organic innards,
they all work for the cellular transference
or storage of electric energy.
What is my point?
When I say: you turn me on,
that we are plugged into one another.
I mean we are all power points.
Hot stuff.
Of course we can either
recharge or drain.
Friction may occur, sparks may fly.
Dear electron AC/DC unit
you galvanize me.
Beware though,
electromagnetic waves of love
or any other high voltage passion
can lead to unwanted ignition -
please be sure to wear a thick rubber soul.
I got this new hand soap, called “Frosted Coconut Snowball.”
It's the dreamiest scent ever.
When I’d unpacked (from Spring break) and had everything in place, I dragged Andy and Leong into my bathroom. Wash your hands,” I suggested, holding up the soap dispenser and turning on the tap.
“Ok, Leong said, offering her upturned hands for soaping.”
“Sure,” Andy said, assenting with his hands as well.
I pumped out a generous, foaming squirt for each of them.
Leong held the foam up to smell. “Oh, my GOD,” She moaned, “is this edible?
I shook my head no.
Andy sampled his as well, “Nice!” he agreed. Which is volumes from a guy.
“I fell in love with it.” I declared, adding, “You know, I never used to wash my hands before - now, it’s practically a habit.”
Andy chuckled.
“Good to know,” Leong said, before she began slowly inhaling the fragrance off her now-dry hands.
our cast:
Leong, (roommate) 20, is a ‘molecular, cellular, and developmental biology major’ from Macau, China. She’s a proud communist (don’t knock it until you’ve tried it). We both speak Cantonese (her English is perfect) so we talk a lot of secret trash together.
Andy, 21, Everyone knows Andy. Not by name, of course, he’s like an extra on the stage of life - you’ve seen him around. He’s carrot-topped, always darkly dressed, a soft spoken, chain-smoking divinity-school undergraduate. He’s so smart, I don’t know what he’s talking about half the time. (Seriously)
.
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our cast:
Leong, (roommate) 20, is a ‘molecular, cellular, and developmental biology major’ from Macau, China. She’s a proud communist (don’t knock it until you’ve tried it). We both speak Cantonese (her English is perfect) so we talk a lot of secret trash together.
Andy, 21, Everyone knows Andy. Not by name, of course, he’s like an extra on the stage of life - you’ve seen him around. He’s carrot-topped, always darkly dressed, a soft spoken, chain-smoking divinity-school undergraduate. He’s so smart, I don’t know what he’s talking about half the time. (Seriously)
As a paleontologist my research has supported the idea that the primary
cause of dinosaur extinction had been the massive impact of at least 10 km
diameter asteroid in the Yucatan Peninsula, creating the Chicxulup crater
at ca. 65 million years ago. The impact triggered large-scale environmental
devastation, including prolonged “impact winter”, severely affecting
the vegetation life that subsequently demolished the entire food chain for
the dinosaurs, leading to their extinction.
In one of my visits to the crater my biotechnologist friend, Fred, who worked on isolation and study of ancient DNA, accompanied me. From there, he collected a few shattered rock samples for his research. Six months later, when I almost forgot about Fred’s ambitious research project, he told me he was successful in isolating some DNA strains that appeared to him to register very old genetic signatures. I encouraged him to try and transform the genes into living cells. After a number of failed attempts, he could ultimately succeed in doing so. Soon the cells multiplied and in a miraculous manner the eon-old evolutionary process was repeated in the laboratory to develop into a multi-cellular organism. Fred got scared. He wanted to destroy the organism and terminate his research, but I persuaded him to let the living cells grow into their full form in an isolated and confined space.
Months passed and we were surprised to see the organism gradually took the form of living entity of an infant dinosaur that I identified as Tyronnosaurus rex. Fred and I were frightened. Fred no longer enjoyed the credit of his successful research with ancient DNA, and in utter fear wanted again to destroy the outcome, but I could convince him to hand over the creature to the local zoo where as a grown up animal it would create immense curiosity for the public and great interest for the scientific community, and above all, prevent the Jurassic Park to come alive in a dystopian world.
Thomas, an apostle of Jesus,
Called
Or so presumed.
He was not an angel.
No,
He never claimed.
Although he played the part well.
Brother Tom,
Like we all called him,
Was a walking paradox.
Because the liquor he loathed he loved
And the lady of the night
Whose deeds he shunned,
She he loved to spend the night in the comfort of her arms.
It started when the Priest was arrested for raping a minor to death.
(The charges would have remained even if the victim,
Was not a minor.)
Amidst these heartaches and funeral tears
Love poems lost relevance,
And so lost Brother Tom his faith,
And sermons.
The wow-worth Sunday sermons
Seemed to lose their meaning and fire
In the sinful fog of the incarcerated priest.
The pulpits defiled by youthful pastors on cellular phones,
Dry hell bound thoughts knocking at the base of their eardrums.
It seemed the whole congregation
Was kin on exchanging pleasantries with the prince of darkness.
The cries and pleas to repentance
Muffled into a dead silence
Somewhere in the hollow streets of idolatry.
And all the while,
Brother Tom on nights
Lost his way home and stumbled into a brothel
There he spend the whole night kissing the bare lips of the brown bottle.
Years on end passed,
Until one day on his way to Damascus
The voice of the righteous encounter spoke to him.
Brother Tom,
No,
Apostle Thomas
Was revived to his former zeal!
#StvnyPoetry
Non Human Sensate Beings Linkedin, Sans Omnipotent Bonds
Extant latent forcefields transcend
across avast panoply multitudinous biosphere
scads of diverse living entities
innately born with
inherent capacity to care
embedded within cellular
pith and marrow,
sans plethora of unlike those
pesky conniving Facebook organisms,
the former declare
affinity, not only
each among their
own divergent species,
(but even among
disparate dissimilar cohabitants
on planet Earth genetically embedded
with unique potential to engineer
unprecedented feats encompassing
inexplicable ability to forge fair
lee sharing recognized quintessential
pronounced emotive displays clear,
lee offering, kindling... robust amity
legion between distinctly
obviously, and glare
ringly different life forms
unlike themselves, here
roll ding an unheeded object lesson
for *****sapiens, hell bent
somehow inexplicably bound by
dominant, important, omnipotent...
(of course except for this gent,
ha, who strives to be selflessly attendant),
and yes undoubtedly
other people cogent
against trumpeting xenophobic fervent
rants particularly against
migrants, who spent
blood, sweat and tears
forced into poverty
and misery, asper Native Americans
with deliberate intent
at genocide hundreds
of years ago (AND still)
today bedraggled indigenous
grievous national and global event,
where power hungry exploit powerless,
the latter kept bound by belligerent
hot headed racist, narcissistic,
misogynistic, egotistic...
"FAKE" prez steaming vehement
diatribes lambasting decent
folks, his oozing rabid hate doctrine
obvious enemy of freedom, versus
patriotic stalwarts, growing voice of cohorts,
who love Lady Liberty
ready to die and foment
revolution if necessary against REAL agent
provocateurs such avaricious cupidity I lament!