her spine that musical instrument
I strummed plucking sounds chords and tones
in axis, the toothed vertebra
she turned her head saying she knew
everything I know she didn't know
about heathen nights and their shifting moons
or all jesus christs in christianity but it's a lie
as I climbed my fingers now in atlas
carefully completing the bone contour
even in her eye there was a grimace
the rain started at that unexpected time
hence the absurd and sudden silence of the dogs
before scared of the moonlight.
I have walked these medullary paths for centuries
watching a vertebrate world under warm skin
the panting breath of one who will love
and on the outside the metamorphosis that makes us replicate
honeyed songs and languid concepts of what's sensual
because the touch that compresses the column
squeezes and grabs the body planet by the spine
allows me to foresee the rheumatic pain of tomorrow
the thorny gorges we'll walk through in trauma
sneaking us away from the blatant truths
that no one really wants to know.
Dear Ms. Fate
Before it is too late
You and I have to date
So meet me by the lake
I know it is a mistake
I am putting my life at stake
But this move I have to make
Is the only risk I can take
For misfortune to take a break
Dear Ms. Fate
What is amiss with my faith
Why do you make it quake
Like a coward confronted by a snake
If my life is in this wretched state
Because of you Ms. Fate
Then Mr. Karma made
A really grave mistake
I sow seeds of scrumptious steak
But yield a stone age Corpse of a vertebrate
Envenoming my heart with hate
Dear Ms. Fate
Maybe if we ate
At the same rate
From the same plate
And became great mates
You would somehow let
Me through your gate
And turn me into your pet
Only before it is too late!
vrrroom buzzzzzzzz vrrroom
cars in a circle
touch each other crash
bungled-stuttering engines like
frustrated flying insect?
bungle-stuttering
hits and misses faulty transmissions
Petals and sepals touching
Stramens and Pistils
developer seeds and fruit blossoms
O' hymenopterous succulent
chewing mouth parts
Petals and sepals touching
stamens and pistils
developed seeds and fruit blossoms
Encountering chance obstacle hindrance
In mid-flight voicing working flights
Suckculants flights buzzing
Stigma touches tongue of feathered vertebrate
Buzz-Buzz! Sucks-sucks suckculants
9/12/19
Where Bumbles Bounce Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: craig cornish
Pulled down to the ground on strings as the puppeteer cackles ,with vacant sleepy sheep like eyes and a slinky vertebrate the marienette does its daily dance ,a dance first started with a seduction of False statements of release and romance to come upon signing the puppeteers contract she says don't worry little puppet I will never bring you harm as long as I can hold u may u never feel marred, she says its an open ended contract so for now you feel assured but what you didn't realize is at the bottom there is some fine print, which reads when ever you can't pay your dues I will withdraw from u and let you fall and crawl alone you will suffer greatly until you find a way to pay the fee, silly little puppet did you really think the warm release was all for free, I greeted u as a friend but yet your still the fool, you were so thirsty, u blindly became my tool ,what the little puppet didn't know is that the puppeteer was always in control the all powerful side show queen held all the power and it is she that pulls ur strings
The war and food
During the war years in Norway 1940 to 1945
there was little food, but the coast was teeming
with fish, my brother and I often walked down to the pier
and in a matter of minutes had dinner.
Needs make you into a thief we stole potatoes,
apples and coal for the fire.
We had a variety of fish like boiled, fried or made
into fish-cakes, but in the process I developed a lifelong
dislike of fish, but I do eat fish as long as it doesn`t like
aquatic vertebrate.
After the war nicking food was no longer seen as legal
but with food in shops it was no longer needed
This kindred of separation
this breed apart
this top of the food chain
and its self distinction by the manipulation of thumbs
This arrogance of intelligence
with its pocket-sized reasoning of knowledge
and by default applies its logic
this incongruent species of taking everything for granted
These nations of waring factions
and the tyrannies of their religions
and all their obsessive obsessions with death
and all their cognitive dissonance of life
All the distractions
the desperate intentions
to impart some measure of meaning
some inkling of purpose for a life they have never really lived
Predisposed to elitism
by their own sense of division
this bipedal predator of vertebrate mammalian
assumes all of creation was only created for them
And in their frustration
and with their playground experience
they build all manner of weapons
to beat the crap out of the people living with them
Still the sun shines
and only by its grace do they continue to exist
all the quantum theories and universal singularities
do not help them with catharsis
they survive only by the elements of a planetary symbiosis
L-ife's earthly existence
I-ncludes many a phase;
A-n infant or child for example
H-as shown a baby face.
N-eglect not an adolescent,
O-r he shall go astray;
V-iewed vertebrate inside
I-s immature in every way.
C-ore of the mind of an adult
I-s ripe for defiance or obedience;
O-n the fifteenth of March, guard your earthly existence.
My age-mate
Is not a vertebrate
Only flesh and blood
He shows to be
The brain,
I do not know!
As I was driving on the dirt road country,
I saw ectothermic, amniotes vertebrate
covered in scales,
black feline cross the road with an unhurried,
sidewinding.
As it passed,
hissing and raising the upper portion
of the bodies to stand erect,
and it’s great, creamy, black-slitted globes,
were caught in the headlights,
crawled like flies over the blue enamel of the sea,
every nerve in my body seemed like,
a strained harp-string ready to snap at a touch.
The spectral vision dissolved into the bushes,
leaving me with a thumping heart
and my spirit beat itself like
a caged bird against its prison bars in vain,
it pass like a phantom into the shadows,
its sound is like a silver-fountain,
that springeth in a golden basin,
and it vanished like a phantasmagoria.
My mind rested upon the thought,
as chasing butterflies might rest together on a flower.
By Seth Yuhi Musinga
The circles of the bloody moon,
slide Northward towards the Rive Nile,
Death and raven drift above,
As mother guards her nest with pride.
The nightingales are singing near,
The nightly winds leave the door ajar,
The big bellied old man, unfamiliar,
Shows fatigue on his face, so clear.
The sheer brilliance of Mother's many vibrant colors,
fills my heart with such unwavering joy,
As she pulls and folds the table cloth,
She sings with the bloody wood, such joy.
The silent man, like a mocha brown ape,
sprawls at the window sill and gapes,
Mother brings in the mango slices,
Bananas, oranges and the summer grapes.
The silent vertebrate in brown,
smiles the frowns then concentrates then withdraws,
then the silent bellied man in brown,
tears at the fruits with his murderous paws.
And still Mother's lovely grin,
circumscribe her dazzling white denticle,
as this man tears into these mango slices,
she looks at him in adulation, such a spectacle!
The parrot
Sturdy yet beautiful
Entertains and pampers
lonely
Vertebrate
*****sapiens is what is me.
I am so happy I am not a turkey.
I am not taxonomically classified in a family
known to ornithologists as Melogracidae.
With a sauce made from the cranberry,
these creatures will be served come Thursday.
Without their feathers, they will spend most of the day,
inside some hot ovens just roasting away.
Therefore, these animals among the vertebrate ranks,
will not be spending their time giving thanks.
So many turkey lives will be lost.
It will be like another holocaust.
In a Norwegian slumber they came to take us away.
They used shovels and torches.
But mostly arms and strong fingers.
We were the final ones out of the terminal.
The cockroaches sing with us now.
We live in utter parlance.
Askance, downward goes our drives.
But this is not about us, no-no-not us.
We call our song the soul’s vertebrate.
And we refer to the question of a soul as an angel with its hand over its mouth.
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