99.9% we all are same It's 0.1% that makes me me and you you 97% we are chimpanzees It's 3% that makes us different from chimpanzees 50% we are bananas It's 50% that makes us different from bananas It's all in the genomes Mitochondrial DNA You carry more genes from your mom Than from your Dad Mom is powerful She beat your Dad Who's superior Your mom or your dad?
Listen if you please to my twisted soliloquy I’m not from around here I’m just rumors on a breeze I come from afar some say the mountains others the stars like an absent friend you will remember me I promise or else your names Thomas mine is Adam the first I am the atoms that burst the very fabric of being the fabric of genes denim, denial, destiny, defile I've been here a while and I will be here a while longer even though I don't belong here the oceans don't know my depths the mountains have not reached my peaks all these beliefs I have not kept for there is something greater that I seek but I cannot utter its name some may call it love but that has garnered too much fame for you've mistook love for what is fake because it's not something you can take it's as simple as a breeze the same that carried me yet unlike I it has no needs it's as full as the oceans and tall as the mountains I had the notion that I could just pen write my own legend but that too must END
...These nights bring dreams of Cherokee shamans whose names are bright verbs and impacted dark nouns, whose memories are indictments of my pallid flesh... and I hear, as from a great distance, the cries tortured from their guileless lips, proclaiming the nature of my mutation.
NOTE: My “mutation” is that my family appears to contain English, Scottish, German and Cherokee blood, meaning that my ancestors were probably at war with each other. Did my English ancestors force my Cherokee ancestors to walk the Trail of Tears?
How many burdens do you carry? How many have you passed through your kin? How much of your burden is not yours to carry? I have struggled with these questions. What burdens are mine? My shoulders are weakened by these unanswered questions. I know that maybe this is just family tradition, I was given them at birth. Yet, I did not pick them. I would like to know why I have inherited them. Have my brother have them? Does my sister struggle with similar questions? What if I did not care to nurture them anymore? Would they die with me? Or still be gifted to my kin? And if they were given to my kin, how would my kin feel? Would they bare it like Atlas, strap it to their backs and lift with their knees? Or never speak of it. Hide it in a locket around their neck, neatly tucked under their shirts. Would they take time to calculate their percentage of the age old burden? Or bury it somewhere in the country, deep into the side of a mountain, with the rest of the ancestors. I’d hope they would give the burden back to the rightful owners. I hope with all my being left, they are mighty enough to confront the age old tradition. I hope they give each burden back, to each dead being in the grave. I am weary of carrying the ancient decisions of my elders. I wish you luck, my child. The size of the burden does not determine its weight. It is heavy. It has nearly buried me with its ominous weight. I now understand why the burden is so easily passed without a second thought. I just hope my guilt does not add to its weight.
To come from the line of a man who tamed the snakes Gazed into the fire And breathed life into wombs of women Dying to be the shell Broke down plants till they became medicine Healed the hands he touched,
And what am I but a vessel of his life, A broken one? His blood must have ran right through me Like the monotony of a lecture In one ear and out the other