Each ivory tower needs so much power and water
Society is the fall guy for the pie in the sky AI lie
Cultures savaged ravaged caricatures by vultures
Slyly trying to deflower mother nature’s daughter
Dodgy dealing resources stealing planet’s reeling
Preach each data centre like a cultural placenta
Layers peeling players say mentor no glass ceiling
Am a lamenter of break neck tech wreck dementor
No healing waste from haste paste without feeling
We’ve heard it before the computer is our future
Smoke and mirrors AI on the fly the latest suitor
Us all just a data commuter for a leech not tutor
Beseech purloining then coining no way to teach
The conceit of the deceit is an elite cheat ripsnorter
Train bots brain rots turns us into tots & lots of have nots
Only glower of people power can stop the slaughter
We Are an Anomaly
Where to begin?
From the beginning, I suppose.
Mom had a cesarian (not really) but was asleep
When I was born.
My birth certificate says I have three older siblings
when I only know of two.
So, where’s my other sibling?
Mom swears I only have two.
Perhaps, my family ancestry is alien in nature.
My brother being a giant and me sister, a genius
And then there’s me . . .
Born with 6 toes on each foot
And Bi-fid thumbs but the right one only had a bone
protruding from the first joint.
I believe I was a Siamese twin connected at the thumbs.
We more than likely were separated way before childbirth
But who really knows. Probably the nurse who filled out my birth certificate.
I survived because I was closest to the placenta.
Anywho, I’ve always felt a presence with me
Or perhaps we switch places from time to time.
Or maybe, we’re both in here, sharing life together.
Sharing dreams.
A glass of vodka on the table,
A chocolate joint between the fingers,
A Tokarev in the bag,
The brain infused with adrenaline.
Misery, a nightmare,
Being poor, a curse,
Forced to drown in illicit transactions.
Survival: a necessity to exist,
Bound to poverty since the placenta.
Murder scenes as the only spectacle,
From the watchtower, the horizon is mortiferous.
Reality proclaims its sentence with a firm voice,
The cruelty of the street teaches raw lessons to worn-out heels.
Gagged souls count the dirty money that corrodes their future,
A pact of survival sealed between greasy fingers and clenched fists.
The heart hardens to feed a hungry mouth,
Prayer turns into calculation, cash becomes language.
Yellow smiles are sold, worn-out allegiances are bought,
Eyes assess, tongues negotiate the unforgivable.
A shiver of metal recalls the origin of the debts.
No respite, the market demands its tribute without mercy.
A verse carved inside lacerated fists,
Ultimate testament of a centuries-old ordeal.
JUST ONE MORE REVELATION
Lines that radiate out from a centre
Like spokes of an umbrella or wheel
As new thoughts and ideas are born
Yet some memories can still intrude
Reminiscent of the things I’ve seen
And all that I could have ever been
Or even by mistake, have construed
As if a baby from the womb is torn
And making me both think and feel
That this universe is like a placenta
Nose
Once a year my
long ears and long snout, exhausting to
tolerate, disconcerting, are lined with
mother-of-pearl.
I can convert my
long nostrils into
wafer.
I reprimand painfully my
very plain features.
Adorable, lovable, they aren’t so
that must mean
I aren’t!
I can with my
big nostrils squeaks cause
very hard circumstances to
the possums, and the one or
two bats who think
my attic is
their home.
I sneezed the other day and from
my left nostril ejected a
neon-blue statement made under oath about
the misuse of
placenta and foetal membranes.
Where lies the placenta in the womb of space,
soma nectar upon which our soul may feed,
that renouncing paths of ego spawned disgrace,
we may invoke bliss and allow God to lead?
The answer oh hermit, is head-heart embrace,
divine entwined and with love our sturdy steed,
becoming empty within, granting God room,
we behold in wonderment, heart lotus bloom.
frothy fluffy frazzled fluff
lives in my bellybutton said agent ****
Frenzied frogs do not have a clue
Having no bellybutton as they grew.
My bellybutton is an instant reminder to me.
Placenta which provided nourishment to thee.
Myself and placenta attached by a fleshy cord.
Severed in delivery room by a young doctor’s sword.
The living mindscape.
Virtues stage, showing colors.
Painting the belief.
Sculpted in truth's form.
A resurrect, re birthing.
A glorious seed.
Sunlight on our skin.
The kiss of destiny's plan.
Shining in fullness.
Wade through trials' fires.
Follow through the mire.
Wishing, stokes desires.
Thinking in silence.
Genuflecting what makes sense.
Sending confidence.
Someone to share it.
Truly a gift sent from God.
Unwrapped hearts with strings.
In living color.
The world shows a designer.
Of a designing.
Urging urgently.
Wind carries sounds, just a taste.
As my mind swallows.
The intentional.
Inventional-convention.
Dire introspection.
Showing Cause, Aeffects.
Righteousness spell dialect.
Never, derelict.
Afterbirth of hope.
Placenta in the remains.
Gives us its growth pangs.
A beautiful way.
It has its way to premise.
In living promise.
In living color.
The Holy Spirit sends it.
Wisdom to gather.
A curve of sky
in a corner cusps a smooth,
thick dusting
of carrot-mauve hues
tonight. Drapes over heather
trees
whose arms
and hands bend with this drowsy sky
as it starts
to fall asleep-
the cyrean "silk" upon
which this
cantaloupe tint
is traced, daubed, by the brushstrokes
of Mother Nature;
is ready
for the deep onyx doves-with halos-
of a cold Spring night.
With the Heavens'
cut diamonds-for the Goddess-
and immaculate
lambency.
This soft lusty Dusk will Father
a shiny glass red
rose,
a radio balefire
that will
capitivate
through the limbs of the esteemed
trees,
wink
through this Springtime's beetling
intimacies
on a windy night.
The man-made magenta
comforts
as it beams
next to the "Sunrise Field",
mowed emerald blades
under
another sky of day-break
pigments-
a dawn
placenta of bright lemon
vanilla,
and little
sugar- coated strawberry
juices-
another corner
of the clay, sea, and cloud-and ash-
colored campus-
bewitching
oil paintings in crystalline
emblems...
Away from the calm and soothing placenta
The baby cries into
A strange world of love
Hatred and confusion
In which the mother always hear baby crying of fright once born
In which the mother will later guide him through with love
The laughter of the wind .
The silence of winter.
The punishment of determination.
As she pushed and pushed ! Moaning to get him out, it was the realization of stubbornness being born.
The father in those dark times , dissapeared like snow in spring drowning his shame and sorrow, in dirty skirts and cheap whiskey in dodgy corners of the Jozi city.
Just before he got his head out of the placenta... he had a vision! A prophecy!.
Life was never going to the all "rainbows and unicorns" but sweaty palms and lonely nights.
There was light! At the end of the tunnel , because Pa returned to the Delivery room.
With the realization of who was coming to the world.
An Artist but not your everyday Picasso.
The living landscape.
Natures stage, showing poems.
Painting the canvas.
Sculpted in true form.
Lifes' canopy, its' awning.
A naked portrait.
Sunlight on our skin.
The kiss of destiny's plan.
Shining in fullness.
Wade through times' passing.
Wallow in magical mists.
Wishing, stoking fires.
Thinking in silence.
Smelling smoke from the chimneys.
Sending memory.
Someone to share it.
Truly a gift sent from God.
Unwrapped hearts with strings.
In living color.
The world shows a designer.
Of a designing.
Urging urgently.
Wind carries sounds, just a taste.
As my mind swallows.
The intentional.
Inventional-convention.
The entire spectrum.
Showing Sun and Moon.
Under great blue enchantment.
Gaia is with child.
Afterbirth of rain.
Placenta in the remains.
Gives us nourishment.
A beautiful day.
It has its way to renew.
In living color.
In living color.
The Holy Spirit sends us.
Dreams from Our Father.
Water, is the condensation of creations vapor
and it's aspiring witness,
it's embrionic fluid, placenta and child.
Perspiring to be as valiant, as it
wields its unsheathed.
Bares it's teeth and streaks,
runs to and fro,
goes where it pleases,
taking a leak.
I guess it goes to show,
clearly, there's disclosures dew
to subject matter.
it is tonight
an ambling gale most serious
chewing through orchard husk
to focus the locusts shrieking
themselves lost but by their own
skittish clamor
and crepuscular chorus
hollow for the streaming stars
now see the girl emerge
who is all of fourteen years
blonde and blue
with red ribbons tied
from the heart of the wood
rich with thickened entanglements
of moss and wolfen things
and her wicker woven basket
spilling cherries on the meadow
next to a naked orchard
she rests there tonight
exhausted from childbirth
to hear the song of the wolves
as they feast on placenta
in the morning she wakes
at dawn’s early light
and calls to the orchard
that the meadow has blossomed
blood-red poppies
and whispers a prayer
for her step-father’s son
and all those lost to the howl
and all those condemned
by the preacher’s daughter
through decades of slaughter.
5/27/19
Harsh, dry words
Line the barren land
No one comes near
To understand
~just judge~
Phrases and chorded connection
Lie beneath the surface, gathering infection
Bees and bugs are gone
Nothing living to attract
Whatever nectar they took
They ain't coming back
~sucking succubus~
Flying fortresses trying to snag a home
Leaving the victim to go it alone
Hard to believe life existed
Before the storm wiped her clean
Not one of those actions or words
Were intended to mean
~barbaric breathing~
What can be birthed without a placenta
A babbling baby with a continuous agenda
Never try to speak a truth
About the condition of her mind
She refuses to see the unbiblical chord
That is choking out her fantastical find
~magical menagerie~
Just waiting for freedom and fun to appear
Without the responsibility for leaving fear
Written by Trudy Schrader on 05-10-2018
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