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 Mar 2015 Cellar D'or
Amy Perry
My thoughts are chemicals.
I am made of recycled cells
That I ingest, I take in what's best
For optimal health, active or at rest.

My DNA as mysterious as the Cosmos,
The Cosmos less of a mystery than Ocean floors.
I come from the Ocean, an awesome notion,
A family with all others, every Thing is a cousin.

My ancestors all made it to reproduction.
I am assembled, through history, through selection.
My traits have been crafted, positively reacted.
Nurtured by Nature, genes that have lasted.

I am made from the stars,
Drink water that passed through dinosaurs.
I experience Life, though filled with a bounty of strife,
Through eyes of a Human, intelligence my paradise.

And though my species feels more advanced
And in control of a world we craft with our own hands,
We are not self-efficient, resources increasingly deficient,
A virus to be easily shaken, in which the planet would not be missing.

I have a fleeting gift,
Amidst the destruction that here lives,
And that is my consciousness,
No fear of abyss, no promise of bliss,

But in my spark of a lifetime,
Seemingly insignificant, and that's fine,
I have inside endless thoughts with my mind,
No need of afterlife with a gift so divine.
 Mar 2015 Cellar D'or
Vervain
Fetid skin,
taut,
   and splitting.

Organic treacle
       seeps through the cracks.

Unending pain.

Why?
           the question floods across your mind, Why?

A moments pause
      Then a reply,

*Because you deserve it.
Anxiety gives such biased answers...
How did you expect me to react
When I felt your knife plunge into my back
And if that weren't enough I turn around to
  see a smoking gun still pointed at my forehead
My brains splattered on the wall
His seeds showered on OUR sheets
How did you expect me to react
When you told me your petty lies
It wasn't your fault he talked his way
  between your thighs
Promises he never meant to keep
Lured and enticed
A bigger house and nicer things
Than you thought I could ever dream
Did you really just admit that?!?!?
How much time do we have left
Until we take our final breath
Why isn't it enough to know
Our time is finite
To protect the flame of love
Instead of fanning the fires of hate
To work for human needs
Instead of needless greed
Trading hands full of sand
For a fist full of dollars
But our pay is already spent
Before we even touch a cent
We can taste the foul stench
  as we inhale
Of a wick burning out our last
  bit of air
 Mar 2015 Cellar D'or
nivek
two plane journeys
one chartered
the one back
a Hercules
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