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Nolan Willett Jun 25
In ancient unenlightened days,
There came a man whose triumph would’ve laid
Foundations for a better world,
Our inner compassions unfurled.
For we thought we found a holy seer,
To rid our lives of all our fear,
To tell us what to say and what to think
What to do and what to drink.
He did his best,
I can attest,
To warn us of that one,
Who would see all our progress undone.
Indeed, many in our history have been
Told what constitutes sin,
Left with a hurtful scar,
By one who never wandered very far.
And our true messiah saw
This prophet for a gaping maw,
Another of the tempter’s tricks,
A man whose touch could heal the sick.
For he loved God more than most
But found him in the cosmos,
Our divine provenance,
Rooted in collective consciousness,
Not an oath to take or die
Or a being to mollify,
Nor any kind of credo,
But an universal ego.
Heeding logic over gullibility
He recognized the liability,
One who would see them die for naught,
And stray them from the insight they sought.
But in trying to break the cycle
He heralded its arrival,
Enshrining the sun,
Of the cursed three-in-one.
He made a martyr
And thus followed generational slaughter.
Promising sacred haven,
Causing war and famine.
For deceivers are known to appear as savior,
For them there is no pleasure greater,
In casting down the righteous,
And rendering them mindless.
And so millennia could have been spared
From some cruelty our kind have shared-
So long and so onerous, never ending-
And our pity’s rending.
The earth’s inhabitants coalesced,
No longer their souls oppressed,
Saved from prejudice,
Alas, poor Judas.
Sorry I published this a couple times I had to fix some things and I like it so
Deep within the bowels of the Earth
immensely distant from the sheltering sky
amidst a thick fog enveloped landscape
with here and there a projected
craggy, derelict chasm

precipitously crooked pointing toward
an infinitely wide yawning abyss
dwelt kindred spirits comprising a soul asylum
where grateful dead (albeit marked

via weathered tomb stones) hermetically sealed
once vibrant corporeal mortals
betook their eternal slumber
One among their number
included a misanthrope

who sported long straggly hair
bushy eyebrows shielding cold eyes of steel
straggly bearded clammy chin
in tandem with a hairy body
which when alive (long time ago)
upheld upon unshod feet a severely
hunchbacked ******

Within dense pitch-black terrain
(Mother Nature enlisting
a menagerie of life forms
accustomed to hellish environment)
awash with unrecognizable
alien sights and sounds

mollycoddling bewitching warlocks,
mailer daemons,
imps of the pervert chieftains, fiery
long and fostered Golems
who called underworld
their private demesne

also alluded to Marcy's playground
holding hostage Alice in Chains
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,
The Beastie Boys, The Human League, and
Village People a Crowded House

Emitting wisps of ethereal matter
appearing a small medium at large
chat snap ping, flickr ring indeed joyus minions
exalting piety a plenti

Prone ounce sing proud purgatory
promoting protean phantasmagoria
hideous hulu hoop dancing holograms
highly distorted grotesque
silent screaming sinister banshees
slithering across escarpment.
Äŧül Feb 2017
Come on buffalo,
Open your mouth,
Of your oral cavity,
Let us collect some tissue,
And let us collect some saliva too,
And then we test for some trefoils,
Fingers crossed – let the expression be true.

It has got to be there,
We know it for humans,
But of buffaloes, we know not,
Let us perform a preliminary study,
There has not been much research,
There is just a foggy, hazy oversight,
Scientific charm – the expression is positive.

Molecular markers in the electrophoresis unit,
Mixed with a visualising dye – the ETBR,
Yes, they will dance positively as expressed,
Against 400 base pairs expressed are the TFFs,
Tough to master this technique moderately is,
We have to take numerous precautions,
Especially with the poisonous visualising dye.
A poem about my work plans.
We are aiming to isolate the TFFs from buffalo oral cavity this time.

My HP Poem #1416
©Atul Kaushal
Maw Maw Sez Jun 2016
Here's a lesson
and I ain't messin
never touch
my Smith & Wesson
Maw
Stuck in the maw
You put yourself in
All this pain you have
Is self inflicted
Stop abusing yourself so much
You're wincing out the Dutch
And being the opposite of clutch
Pain shouldnt constantly be by slapping yourself emotionally and physically
Its the last thing you want from your bucket list
Wren Djinn Rain Jul 2015
If only luck would up and show
fortune for the fortunately
clinging on,
those blessed with life
though impetus bent
for one toe only touching the floor
with a venomous claw
for virulence and love
both impediment to the **** we gnaw
if only luck would wind a boot
to the fortunately clinging on
those blessed with life only
danger dismissed with no teeth
fortune for the titanic maw
sprawl
Aubrey Aug 2014
I
see
nothing
staring into the gaping maw of this relationship.
No teeth.
No dangling tonsil.
No lolling tongue.
Just empty space
... and a foul smell.
Putrid
like the teeth left holes
ripped out root and all
and festered.
Hot and wet
and fogging up my glasses
bringing tears to my eyes.
I wrinkle my face in confusion,
frustration.
I am not going to just
sit back..
but that is what you are expecting...
and maybe
what you want.
So, I will sit agape
at the mouth we've rendered toothless;
a union unable
to speak
or eat
or grow.
Just watch
and wait
even in agony
or anger.
I've got time enough to decide
if we can heal this
or put it down...
like a lame horse
a dog with a twisted stomach
a bad habit.
I'm more patient,
more able,
more changed.
I'm more
than you realize.
4/8/13

— The End —