Swimming in the ocean
a wincing couple pinches
Little creature on my leg
not more than six or seven inches
I looked again, to my surprise
Hello! - a trilobite!
Two pincers jutting from its head
tiny, fearsome sight
I scolded it: 'You are extinct'
'Now go away and I won't tell
You'll get to live another day.'
He stayed... So, I swatted him
to prehistoric hell ~
THE STUPID ONE-CELL DUMBBELL
I’m a trilobite, I took my leave
Nature had a shocker up its sleeve
In hot water
Air gets shorter
Things got heated and I couldn’t breathe
I’m a stegosaur and I’m long dead
I got a chill in my poor old head
My world cooled down
The leaves turned brown
I breathed my last in a cold cold bed
I’m a mammoth and I used to swarm
I lived in hope of a winter storm
The snow that lay
Melted away
I lost my life when it got too warm
I’m a human and I’ve had my fill
Of blame and shame for every ill
But humans, I’m sure
Killed no stegosaur
Our climate changes and always will
A trilobite born in a pond
thought that he would evolve
But untutored was he in DNA
gene puzzles he just couldn't solve
Two million years or three went by
his fossil embedded in clay
Just think if he'd known about DNA
He'd be on your fish plate today
An eighteen-inch trilobite, which is me.
Related to spiders and crabs….tee hee.
Advanced life form.
Will not conform.
If you want me, I’ll be in the sea.
You,
A creature so unlike a dinosaur,
Pallid, weak and frail.
No fossil in the stony flesh of Mother Earth,
Unlike trilobite, leaf or snail.
Worse yet, no one searches for your trace,
Or recognises that you're missing,
They're all wrapped up in studying,
Fornication, fondling and kissing.
No biologist, paleontologist, anthropologist,
Searches for your presence, growing frantic,
To find at least one before the Great Extinction,
The last of the true Romantics.
T'is true they're not searching for you now,
Without rutting their interest is small,
They'll learn one day that the old ways were true,
And again you may hear hopeful calls
When heart of me be despot,
Solation overwhelms my serbonian mind.
On shoal of sand I take me there,
To lie in tamarisk bed of natures hand.
With tearful sighs and wave’d cries
I listen to the tread of Minoan feet
Then linger there in storied state,
My eyelids torn by armies stood at yonder gate.
A lucid lullaby dances then on trilobite shores.
And spirit is no more awash with hearts resort.
For still, invisible forces may me rest.
That I might once again be filled with awe.