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Peculiar;
My cells mutate.
Is it you or we
Who contaminate?
Nobody's safe,
Am I the disease?
There's no fulfilment
In immunity
Jonathan Moya Mar 28
I have something I must confess to you
I pick my nose, eat all my buggers too.
This causes distress and disgust I know    
still off the floor I’ve  eaten food that glows.

Science says that it’s all just for the best
for I immunize against just those pests,
my antibodies delight in the twirl
of not taking a break from this ill world.

Be too clean enough, watch your body die,
a clam unable to grow pearls inside.

The history of hay fever  attests
it started an aristocratic pest
until more begats trickled it to the rest.
Years later immunity herd resets
made your older ***** hand many bros
less the cause of your sneezing and your woes.
Now cleaner living, hygienic hands,
less man, swing it back to the wealthy clans.

The fate of humanity all well depends
on the fact antibodies never end.
Evolution favors the hardy bugs
making man one of its many doomed shrugs.
Disease, extinction, not in human plan,
he will fight, fight to be part of this land.

Vaccines have prevented much needless death
giving antibodies a daily test.
We have avoided all that still does ****
yet  allergies still make one run to hills,
allowing even worst auto-inflamed chills.
Giving all your antibodies a rest
is not the answer for ****** distress.

Time to adapt bodies to the new world.
Not **** both good and bad in the big furl.
Let it listen, learn and train friend from foe,
not pay attention to the ad man’s show.

Man has conquered this small space to survive,
he must evolve away to really thrive.
We are unsafer when we **** all risk,
to immunize, immunize is the trick.

So I will pick my nose, eat my buggers,
knowing I am creating new lovers
not afraid at all to hug each other.
Autmn T Mar 14
I want to give you infinity. Bloom immunity. This could be our forever.
Ginger R Aug 2018
Give me a choice
One immunity
It will not be
Pain

I still need
Something to remind me
I'm still just a mortal
Need saving

If
I gave you
The choice
To live or
Die
You would choose live
But I would choose die

Cause I don't know
What's going on
But I want to know
I'm not immune
To reality

Throw me away
I'll bounce right back
This home I've made
I know won't last

I just
Don't want
To be
Invincible
Once, one of my friends convinced a little kid I was a superhero. I hated it. Cause, I'm not actually one! If I was, I could've done something, I could've saved people. People that are now DEAD!
So yeah. I would love being a hero, but they aren't real. So I just keep moving on.
Mystic Ink Plus Feb 2018
Sometime

I wish
I could grow

Tusk,
Horn, and
Hoof

To feel safe

Probable,
Immunity I get.
Theme:  I fear the box, above the human neck.
Mystic Ink Plus Feb 2018
A human race
Everyone, wakes up and starts running,
Fleeting the shadow
False sense of control over the self

Crossroads, both a chaos and an order
Parted by destiny, united by hope
Thin air keeps blowing away the leaves,
Not always,
A sweet fragrance,
A perfect shade of blue,
A luxury of retrospect,
A rosy beginning and a happy ending
Fear ~> Trust ~> Shared dream ~> Dead man
Customary to remain silent
A sensible mind

Everyone deserves a morning sunshine
With a immunized life.
Shared from my Anthology, Canvas: Echoes and Reflections, 2018.
Brent Kincaid Feb 2017
The church was started years ago.
My brother was a charter member.
But, he’s been a first class ******
Since as long as I can remember.
At first I thought it was hilarious,
And thought not too much of it.
But, I quickly found it nefarious
And told my brother to shove it.

Their services seemed rediculous,
The chants re-written bible stuff,
An attempt to cover up that they
Are doing something iniquitous.
“He that believeth in us shall prosper
Those who revile us shall not.
Go and suffer not the poorer
For heaven is for those who have got.”

My brother quotes this stuff to me
And gets angry when I question.
I have tried hard to make him see.
He takes it as an imposition.
They work to take over Congress
So their church can get paid money.
The plan is to clean up the DC mess
So religion is the richest industry.

I asked him if the church has plans
To share some of that with them.
He laughed and clapped his hands
And said they were going to pay him.
He would be blessed by their deity
For being a righteous servant.
All he had to do was maintain piety
And be Holy Church rules observant.

They were to vote down everyone
Who had another way of seeing
And to vote for their guys who run
Then, claim the rest are not human beings.
By this time I was no longer listening
Because I thought his intelligence gone.
But a close replay of his rambling
I realized it’s all close to going on.

The people in charge really are
Seeming to be saying all of this.
They’re selling us to the guards
Without even that dreaded kiss.
We are close to those wacko creeps
Controlling all of our land of freedoms
And ripping us all off while we sleep
Then even outlawing any kind of wisdom.
AM Apr 2016
you're the virus
on which I have
no immunity to
Lux Capacitor Mar 2015
Half in dark, hiding out,
back against a wall,
any one, will do for me,
all I seek in dreams.
Here before, here again,
remnants strewn about,
between the door and me,
shine under the moon.
I'm to blame, prophecies
rolling in with rain,
hold me tightly in sleep
Loneliness, a poem that,
written by my own hand,
paints bridges with glitter mixed
up with broken glass.

— The End —