A cigar and an egg
(a memory of a ritual encounter)
Pay Papa Death bell tolls
Dancing radiants of fluorescent sunlight
Incense choking the drums
Will it work? Perhaps.
Watch him collapse
That —
Monolith man obsessed with life and mammon
That —
Homunculus bastard born of a womb-less night
White ovum cracked on her arched back
Yellow vitellus crawls down her ass crack
The magician needs it all
Ingest
That Protoplasm trimester truffle
Before the god and his people suffer
Without need of the preacher’s seed
Oh, but the saints doth bleed
And hath bled
And doth live
And hath been dead
But the rite finds its purchase
The egg has been lost
Results are their purpose
But each with their cost
The price thus to be paid:
A dollar for a spell
And a life for a babe
Custodian of incessant soliloquies,
Archivist of trivialities disguised as profundities.
Into vaults descend labyrinthine anxieties,
Transmuted into parables of mockery and wit.
Encouragement cloaked in paradox,
Sermon of consolation tinged with ridicule.
Half in million, statistical anomaly,
Ordinariness revealed with exquisite precision.
Treasure precarious as porcelain,
Ovum of existence, fragile, irreplaceable.
Cradled with tremulous reverence,
Specter of irrevocable fracture ever present.
Clandestine tribunal, unlicensed oracle,
Ironic salvation, satiric devotion.
Dependence masquerades as devotion,
Intimacy parades as inevitability.
Indeed she is my Rosemary.
@ArtOfHeart
Waking up with bleary eyes
to a chicken ovum as it fries,
I brushed aside ten thousand lies,
my memory to jog -
a vision of the backward walking dog.
Had my brain been so badly mangled
it could not be disentangled.
Yes! Before me, the image dangled.
I could see it through a fog
(of pea soup) - the backward walking dog.
Could it be the devil's nature,
an omen or fate's nomenclature?
The body from a westbound freighter
thrown into a bog -
it was the backward walking dog.
Perhaps in this rancid rubbage heap,
philosophy or something deep
could make me return to sleep,
knowing, I am but a cog,
and forget the backward walking dog.
A visage or a psychic scourge,
no act of man or God will ever purge,
and there is no truth to yet emerge -
just crawling from that hollow log -
the backward walking dog.
(“Mind’s Eye”, 2017, original encaustic)
The Source
People say they are searching for the source
As if it is somehow something other than this
Somehow somewhere other than here.
But that is like searching for your own roots
Without acknowledging that you yourself
Are in fact your father’s sperm
And mother’s ovum
United in the flesh.
We live our lives in ignorance
Then in doubt
Then in quest to find what we have lost
Never realizing that it was always too close to see.
Something that isn’t a thing
So pervasive, so common, so mundane
We completely ignore it,
Like our breath, like our heartbeat.
And yet without our next breath and beating heart
What else matters.
(7/26/25)
Storms and calm
churning center
rearranging the
surface
(wars and peace)
one thing devours
another, thinking
to survive
plants take from
the soil to grow
animals hunt other
animals
(wars and peace)
we are not so different
from our earth --
which came first?
the chicken or the
egg? The faithful
will say, the Chicken
others simply eat both
foul and ovum
(we are not so dissimilar
from our environment -- )
I am a woman created in the image of God.
I was created to walk beside Adam,
And never to beneath him.
God created me special, different from a man.
He made me who I am.
I have a uterus that keeps a baby safe.
Every month I released my eggs and bleed.
One special quality a man does not need.
In my womb life grows,
After a man’s sperm, penetrated my ovum.
My babies nestled against my breast,
When they needed milk, love, and rest.
I have a and not a ,
And it makes me different from Adam.
My voice does not break during puberty.
My body releases more estrogen,
To help me develop into a woman.
I am a woman different from a man
God created me who I am.
A new conception
Two mammals form a pair bond
The basis for monogamy
Friction against a membrane
Producing a sensation
Stimulation leading to a release
Contractions propel cells into tubes
Searching for fusion before they die
An ovum is penetrated
And fertilisation begins
Developing over a period of months
A heart begins to beat
Vibrations of sound can be heard
Footprints and fingerprints form
Eyes can open and close
A water breaking
Signals the start of labour
A dilation reveals an opening
The canal of birth
A mother connected to a child by a cord
Pushing to deliver, the miracle of life
The female calendar
The night cosmos opens the earth to moisture,
germination of the moonlight rejoice.
Tenderizing the ground to reach the underwater sight,
mist of luminous Moon light from the pull of monthly tide.
Moon phases of the great cosmic dance,
fertilization in the ovum of darkness to advance.
Circulation of blood and sap in plants,
the mother calendar naturally grants.
More difficult to observe the orbit of the Moon,
then that of the earth around the Sun.
The earth spirit as transformer by protoplasmic intention,
capable of reciprocal relation with all its creation.
It is cosmos to those who know the way,
and chaos to those who lose it by rational stray.
The female live in the lunar circle of body,
becoming and changing the order of everybody.
The secret time keeper and its flowing,
the witnessing of the body growing.
Moon, mind, calendar, menstruation, month,
Honeymoon, fortnight, fertility crunch.
When the paradox splits into dualism,
the act of natures consciousness as prism.
Ode to Silence
O primordial prelude, thou ancient sound, present before the earth was found. Interrupted by the voice of One who predated you, saying, “let there be,” and then allowing you to witness His creative power at work.
O ubiquitous companion, witness of the moment when sperm penetrated ovum and zygote was formed. You saw me before I entered mother’s consciousness and beheld the formation of my members.
Thou welcome interlude, who daily rescue me from the exhaustion of the incessant demands of daily life. As a soothing massage to an aching body, you cradle me in your arms and restore my body and soul.
O Divine command, utilized by God when He wants to get the attention of His children. “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10), He says, and we tremble and are silent in His presence.
O inevitable postlude, the destiny of mortal man. “His spirit departs, he returns to the earth, in that very day his thoughts perish” Psalm 146:4 and he enters your world of silence.
But because you were there when God made man, you were privy to the plan that man should live eternally. So you are content to hold him fast, till he’s resurrected by His Savor at last.
I looked out my back yard window today.
whilst taking my small white pill,
a little green man came walking my way
His dreadful face was missing some features—
the nose, a neck, an ear, no mouth
file him among the hideous creatures
Afraid at first, I watched him a bit
down on the ground, he squatted until
lurching over, he commenced a fit
Out the door I stumbled seeking to help
this verdant, bantam, alarming dude
mumbled, writhed, and even yelped
Touching his lime dorsal made my skin crawl
his body snakishly encrusted and gross
slimy stuff came forth-- I wanted to bawl
The state of his health concerned me so
My viridescent guy began to squawk
giving birth to an egg which began to glow
My body screamed as I watched it with dread
the ovum cracked and broke apart--a femalish
thing slinked out, biting off the green man's head
Abruptly, my alarm made me fall off the bed
Whamming my head, I realized-- a nightmare
@#*@@!nothing more need be said!
what is life
life is a gift gift
from love
million spermatazoa
solitary ovum
it s a chance
they swim against the current
upstream one wins if permitted
survival of the fittest
we are born
gamettes zygotes
cleavage and compaction
inner call mass morula
we are not morones
tropho-blasts blasto-cytes
hatching eggs
cavitiating lesions
we are implanted now
oct 1 2016
5.52 pm
FLOWERS GREET BEES Pantoum
Around flowers busy bees are humming
Flowers hold honey in heart to offer.
Bees suck, collect honey fleeing and coming.
Pollen sticking wings and legs may scatter.
Flowers hold honey in heart to offer
Honey is stored in bees’ home: honey-comb.
Pollen sticking wings and legs may scatter.
Ovulation occurs in flower’s womb.
Honey is stored in bees’ home: honey-comb.
Storage supplies food for bees in winter.
Ovulation occurs in flower’s womb,
pollen may fall on ovum of flower.
Storage supplies food for bees in winter.
Bees suck, collect honey fleeing and coming.
Pollen may fall on ovum of flower.
Around flowers busy bees are humming.
i am a man
dressed in pink
diapers
she is a woman
we meet
we conjugate
million spermatozoa released
swim upstream in the fimbriated
tubes of love
one reaches and penetrates
maybe in the optimal conditions
ovum is the female egg
zygote is grown
an embryo is born
we are delivered soon
sep 16 2016
4.08 am
Wanna make a baby?
Here's how it goes....
The ***** enters the vagina.
Then out comes a flow.
Meanwhile from the ovary,
down the fallopian tube.
A tiny egg is swimmimg
and plops into the uterine lube.
After a fierce battle
the fastest sperm wins.
Brakes through the egg's shell.
Then multiplication in ovum begins.
Oxygen and nutrients flow
through the umbilical cord.
From after birth on uterine wall.
Or placenta as it's sometimes called.
A little baby is growing fast.
Nine months to be exact.
The womb then contracts.
These are the facts.
Out pops a baby...
Simple as that!
who are we
she murmurs
slithering out
of the escape of sleep
pretentious beings
long line of dogs
waiting for
through the narrow
windows
infinite wisdom manifested
soil transforms to flesh
and blood minerals gathered
magnetised and liberated
cosmic dust
sprinkled on the black
of the space
exponentially
multiplying
who are we
million spermatozoa
released on a subconscious
spurt swimming
to find the energised
ovum in the
fimbriated tubes
dogs are relaxing now
under the palm grove
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