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Naveen Malhotra Nov 2020
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?
The uniVerse Sep 2020
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
Michael R Burch Feb 2020
for Thomas Raine Crowe

...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?
M R White Dec 2019
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.
Shlomo Jan 2019's here. A future. Agile? I was not enough to be.

Black in it's entirety. A new beginning and a new me.

Clockwork. As though a plan hatched by some supreme being.

Dear dog, which came first? Was it the white or the black?

Either way, it effortlessly taints your profoundly glorious genes.

**** this! Atrocious. Drugs?!

Goodness me. How did we get to this?

Horrible, dehumanising, and it's here to stay.

"It suppresses". But really only in the mildest of ways.

Just to remind you of the control you once had.

Killed! And now ceded in it's entirety to a tad bit of a fad.

Let me just turn back the hands of time! 

My fate I leave with you alone. 

Nothing seems to relieve this pressure and irreparable pain. 

Oh God! Could I be spared such a destiny?


Queuing from my heart to yours. 

Respectfully admonishing your power and grace. 

Simply, do I ask for that childlike sense of serenity.

To take me to a place of restoration and hope. 

Unlock my mind. Repair my soul. For vaults of this kind are too strong.
Audio Narration @
Paul Butters Nov 2018
Armies of words gather in my head
To march so boldly onto the page.
They work their wonders
Who knows how?
Why they pick me as their channel
For their landing craft
I’ll never know.

Some accident of birth:
Genetic fluke –
For which I take no credit –
Makes me nectar to these ants
That line themselves into verse.

Compulsion drives me to write
As salmon must jump those water falls
To return to their spawning grounds.

I have to speak, or rather type:
Express myself
No matter what,
Whether good or bad.

Is there a cure for this affliction of mine?
Can I ever stop myself from writing?
I very much doubt it.

Paul Butters

© PB 16\11\2018.
A congenital affliction.
Sindi Kay Oct 2018
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
Gabriel burnS Jul 2018
love is evolution window shopping for eyes
shopping for genes
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