Heavy relief.
Weighs almost as:
An orchestra.
Which is nothing more.
Than splicing stuff.
Almost predetermined.
Heavily predicted.
Heavily cries out.
Heavily circling.
Heavy relief.
It ‘twas watching lift off.
Knowing they’ll turn to an orchestra of a tin can.
Instant as coffee.
A cutter
Injury to her wrist
Bleeding heart
Glows in dark
Knife splicing her purple pain
Death sliding down drain
The blender switches on,
The Clock starts ticking.
Stitching it's imprint,
Into Existence.
Each Instant,
Different.
Gears whirring,
Agitated, Stirring Emotions,
Splicing, Thoughts churning ,
Forcing Conforming,
To the vortex That's forming.
Conflicting Actions,
Unconscious Reactions,
Robbing Our Satisfaction.
We Keep on Running,
To the Next Attraction.
Unaware of the distraction,
Keeping us in Line.
Trapped in Times Design,
It Defines your day.
How Long you have to Stay,
Then Sends you on your way.
There's even Time to Pay.
Never Enough for Play,
So throw none of it away.
Attached to every move,
It fills all the Grooves.
Smooth and sly,
It slides on by.
Flying beside you,
Guiding, and Dividing,
Perfect timing.
The more fun we have,
Seems as it were cut in Half.
Yet an hour in sorrow,
Feels like no Tomorrow.
Your Faithful Companion,
A Wound mender.
Or your toughest Contender,
Keeping you in The Blender.
She skates along the edge of sanity.
The line between disaster and divine.
Heart now tasting the inhumanity,
without the lonely sip of the sweet wine.
Digging whilst drowning the depths of darkness,
rummaging righteousness religiously.
God bleeding sunshine into her starkness,
pruning the soul hath lost prodigiously.
Placing the lotus seed into the earth,
seed splicing and spiraling down and up.
She senses the sprouts swaying, giving birth,
spilling atop the ground below the cup.
Watering new life, soaking up the ground.
Flower below the earth, above the mound.
When I was a kid, Watson and Crick’s discovery of DNA
Was still a bit like science fiction and not completely understood
Dreams of curing cancer, never growing old, viral vaccinations
Mapping out the human genome would make them proud of us
Splicing genes with CRISPR Cas9 Vectors
Is still only just the beginning,
We’ve barely touched the tip of the iceberg
Still, one day, like in the Star Trek universe
With a simple shot from hypo spray
No more COVID and Dr. Flox would send us on our way
But life is not TV land
I suppose God must have other plans
Perhaps He’s not so pleased that
Science is the new religion of this Day N Age
He’s really going to be surprised when we scrape the shroud of Turin
For some Jesus DNA
And clone the Son of God so we can look him in the eyes
And pray tell we may say,
“What the hell have we done, oh Spliceosome?”
("Perception/Reality Merit Badge" #62, 2015, original oil)
Smoke and Mirrors
Amid the flux
Of shimmering sound and vision
Someone is lying
Is it your eyes
Is it your ears
Is it those pulling the levers
And splicing the tapes
Or is it all of the above?
In the end
It’s not the lying that matters
Since that’s what senses
And people do
It’s the believing
That will get you in trouble
Every time.
(8/14/24
The bruises and burns
From her cooking and washing pots and pans
Her former hands, so dainty and soft
Have now become coarse and calloused
Scars from knives on her hands and her thighs
Cuts from slicing dicing and splicing
Several produce and foods to provide nourishment for you
Yet you disregard her efforts and don't appreciate her when due
Wives, daughters and sisters everywhere
We were always seen as the 'weaker sex'
But we rose and fought our best
To be admired and looked upon with respect.
We succeeded and made the world realise
That women aren't only knowledgable kitchen-wise
We have gifts talents, achievements and dreams
Which makes the world better more than. those can believe.
Happy Women's day to all my wonderful females
We are worth more than rubies and are as competent as the males
I'm proud of all of you for the battles you fought
Let your smile shine brightly like a beacon come forth.
Happy Women's Day
A smoothie barista's a thing?
Gadzooks, Batman,
why the
hype?
Fresh fruit, yogurt:
tangy,
ripe.
Ah, perfection -
that's my
type.
----------
A Zeno is 8/4/2/1/4/2/1/4/2/1, with rhyme abcdefdghd
Zeno made me think of xenotype: any of two or more variations of the same material from two or more different species. For splicing genes, a fancy title is in order; for blueberries and bananas, not so much!
I think love is the greatest thing –
and few will disagree; and no
need for gene splicing, genome
sequencing in a lab to propagate –
just good old fashioned love
produces love: with gentle strokes
of kindness; encouraging words,
gestures and sweet nudges –
I see love in the feline grooming
her kittens; love in a bird protecting
her nest at the cost of her life if
necessary; love in the breast of a
nurturing mother – in the supporting
nature of a 24/7 wife; I see love
in the sun, for when it shines things
grow and ripen; I see love in the
rain, for we quench and know,
that love is alive and well – a short
word, and as easy to give as spell;
yet a world of evil can't kill it...for
God on high, as man's saving grace
supports and triumphantly wills it –
~ You’re the Mender of My Fences…
Time has a way of rusting out the wires
or rotting the posts off below the ground
and then the horses would go a strayin'
any place that the fence had fallen down
So you have to ride along the fences
specially after a big winter storm
Always being alert and diligent
to make sure the herd will come to no harm
Most times it might be just a little thing
like splicing in a tiny bit of wire
Other times it’s an entire section down
that’s when things can become a bit more dire
It seems you always know what tool to use
to keep our fences standing tall and strong
Just how to keep this wandering stallion
from doing anything foolish or wrong
You have a gentle way of fixing me
whenever doubt starts to rust out my wire
You are the mender of all my fences
the keeper of my heart’s deepest desire
i celebrate having
met great poets
David and especially
Maureen both from
way up north but
not in the sense of
north that Johnny
Horton sung about
because his song was
about Alaska and i'm
writing about Canada
you gave us Michael
Myers not to be
confused with
Halloween movies
and Neil Young not
to be confused with
Neil Old from down
under but the
understatement of
all is the gene splicing
or mutation of genius
Norm McDonald
Their wedding day was such a super day.
Splicing of two hearts in eternity
Heading to wedded bliss , spreading delight
No uncertainty it's fraternity
Love keeps sanity for posterity
Memory's stole and taken you away
Alzheimers gone forever and a day
Remember her until your dying day
Its a fresh hello each and every day
they will fall in love again each new day.
15052016 comp entry
Words are Going Missing
Words are going missing……and no one seems to care!!
Red lined!! Redacted!!! Clandestinely subtracted!!
Their meanings have been undermined
to alter documents - long signed
cater to the lunacy
that altered words will set us free.
Words are being conjured…gene splicing gone awry
because our conversations may be heard by passersby,
someone may be offended
because our language wasn’t blended
certified as neutralized
words no longer “Super Sized”.
Words are being muffled….silenced by the mob
demanding that we serve them – fresh corn- without the cob.
Words are being “weaponized” – the arming of perception
a conversational “Cold War” – exchanges of deception.
Words are going missing……gaps upon the pages
trapped within this horror…….a poet’s heart still rages.
John G. Lawless
12/1/2015
If only I could be ElaineScisorsHands,
under tonight's half moon;
on the precise sec past midnight
I'd creep into deep shadows
and slice evil in two.
SLASH! SLASH!
Black cats and black rats and
even blindass black bats,
would go cross-eyed with terror
feeling the ominous... impending global doom.
I'd swing my long black cloak round myself and,
hop on its tail, and be swooped up by
the howling winds, setting me off on my aim.
SLASH! SLASAH!
I'd cut out chunks of infested flesh,
pluck out pink, rheumy eyes with
their bloody stringy bits-
slice up and stab all evil doers
in their deformed spineless-backs.
Once I've made full circle round this orbital globe-
chopping and dicing and splicing, I'd
swoop back into my dank hovel,
with my cloak pockets glug-full and,
long shiny serrated blades dripping
coagulated black blood. I'd reach for
my engraved crystal goblet and,
drip blood in ...PLOP! PLOP! SWIPE! SWIPE!
then wring my cloak tail of every gruesome drop.
Wholly satisfied, on this grave Halloween night,
I'd feed my dark side on the dark side of the moon.
* note my FB name was Elaine Petgrave
HEY MONSANTO
Hey Monsanto how much did you pay
mother nature to look the other way?
Did you stuff her purse full of dough
to lobby God for GMO's?
By splicing pesticides into grains
you're poisioning the food chain.
What harms insects harms humans too
people are just like bugs to you.
You program future seeds to die
to control the food supply.
There's famine in the seed you sow
and hunger in the crops you grow.
We can see the mutant strains
invading through the fruited plains.
You're the plague upon the crops
and the blight that must be stopped.
Your lawyers say farmers steal
when winds blow your seeds on their fields.
You'd sue the wind, sun and sky
to control the food supply.
Hey Monsanto don't you know
you will reap just what you sow.
Evil minds can only yield
bitter fruits and barren fields.
The winds of change are everywhere
and storms of protest in the air.
There will come a harvest time
when you must pay for all your crimes.
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