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Raised by repulsion from the nearest or attraction to the furthest
pole, over lode ranges levitating loxygenlessly, His Hypergrav Grace.
Is it the spirit of Ed Headrich, his frisbeing free from his body,
tho’ underwhelmed by his halo, an aureate Aerobie?
Or is it a crimson crow? No: Magneto.
If the posthuman is a Pandora’s box,
he’s its inexorable crowbar, Evolution’s new broom.
Natural Selection a sovereign reinstated
by muta-über new bar,
master who has no call for crowbars or keys, tinopeners, boltcutters,
of knurling or bending his mag-knees-toes when lifting        
marines outta degaussed exosuits by the scruff of their dogtags
- let them hover till they hang!

Basketballingly belittling
a B-52, curlynealing a jet bomber on th’end of his index,
coz round his pinkie imperious Magneto twists
electrons’ spins and orbits.
Awesummoning electromagnetic pulses,
big bogoff SHA-KOOM! shockwaves,
that bring Nato’s whirlybirds of prey, chinooks, to book
(e.g. the ‘Book of the Devil Valley Master’ from 4th century BC China).

And as for the F22 Raptor
-  watch out, that’s a brandnew…Oh, scrapt war-
bird. Steel its Achilles’ heel,
mankind’s  collective military might
humbled into a junkyard on high,
a giant junk gyre crinklin’ and creakin’,
scraping and chiming as all modernity metallurgic
is mashed about the ambit of the carcrusher eye
of his chrome Charybdis in the sky.
Vast and vortical vectorfield realised in lithe steel,
seething silver stratospriral o’ swirly enswallowment
straddles Megiddo, with accretion disc of armoured ooze
like a platinum worldwreath,
but no condolence means Magneto.
No large hadron collider had to collude in
this inhaling metalmouth of a hellmouth,
where to winged lemming death
magnetoceptive real birds might be misled.  
It'd magnettickle my ethmoid bone,
my lapsed biocompass’d soak up teslas and oersteds
till  lagnetism of hysteresis heated
my gone cold prehistoric sense of direction,  
my bearings on fire f’hours
after his fingers apocalypclickt
a billion ballbearings
to buckshot the firmament.
ConnectHook Dec 2016
I, ConnectHook
DEMAND recognition as The Most Boring Poet of all.
You’ll never touch me so don’t even TRY.

Don’t even bother dipping your quill again,
you mere drip on the mildewed scroll of antediluvian parchment,
you cuneiform Cunégonde, you proto-Canaanite pottery fragment,
you keyboarding failed clown
and archeological relic unworthy of preservation
in a third-rate underfunded Albanian museum…

I, and I alone, dragged myself up from the protoplasmic slime
to BORE you.
I transitioned from amphibian to anthropoid
before your mama even MET the postman.
I stood upright upon the ****** battleground of evolutionary struggle
and SELECTED MYSELF (naturally).
Now pass that banana right over here.
https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2013/08/29/planet-of-the-smartphones/
Francie Lynch May 2015
The dog that covered
His ****
With an extra kick,
Is he an ancestor?
Peter Watkins Apr 2015
Though, we're certainly not pure and never will be,
I'd like to believe that we're better
than what we are.
I'd like to think that
we're more than animals.
But unfortunately I can not.
For I look around every day
and see the world as a food chain...

Darwin was right, even with us.
I believed the feelings we have
locked away inside us
marked us out from everything else.
Yet, I struggle to believe,
when I see the strong attack the weak
and the weak attack the weaker still.
I can't leave that belief in the dark though, I'm torn...

I know people make mistakes,
I love the lies we all weave as I've said.
But I see it happen over and over
and I see people cut down with hatred.
I see people that don't even hesitate
making someone's life misery.
Like they only care for themselves,
like they only ever need themselves.

Kindness is difficult to come by
when it should be more likely.
I need to know that our race
is more than a pack of savages.
I have to believe, even if,
all of the evidence tells me otherwise.
I have to tell myself, I have to,
that I'm simply not looking hard enough.

A lack of perfection makes us unique,
purity is nothing but a façade...
However, we should be better,
having come so far as a race of people.
We can build space shuttles
so why can we not even say thank you?
We understand so much, yet it seems,
most people strive for power and success at other's expense.

Most people don't even understand
the pains and strains of another
when there are existing Humans
that understand multiple languages.
I didn't believe my message originally was enough so I extended it a little.

— The End —