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Each subsequent process of cell division
I.e. mitosis sans the biological parlance
Erodes chromosomal cap
   re: telomere if u can envision
at some juncture senescence prevails –

   apoptosis no chance
To prevent this natural degradation
   and the alternate decision
Per opting to bail from etching

   chronological age – averse at a glance
To this mortal male,
   who decries that death breed’s frisson
Thus disallowing healthy discussion

   once end of the figurative dance
Delivers the curtain call on existence –
   where grim reaper jeers with derision
At attempts to thwart cessation of life

   whereby scientists seek to en-hance
Longevity – even exhuming the grateful dead
   and experimenting with incision
To rewind expired meter fostering
   demise without spectacles

   after staying alive – with lance
A lot chock full of chemical concoctions
   to revive corpse as the ultimate mission
Yet, any effort to transcend
   genetic bulwark

   engendered from bulge in pants
In tandem with merging with ova –
   based on each coupling favored position
Ought not be tampered

   with lest havoc t’will be
   rent asunder and rants
From rabid quest per course ala collision
Inscribed within DNA blueprint

   from extinct cousins of uncles and aunts
Prepping monster
   to burst from Ray Kurzweil laboratory
Whereby to halt recalcitrant
   zombie spells FRUITION!
My array once glowed in the sky that this horizon
cried for winds that she boor in the afternoon
if I absorbingly flew into her midst
and like a rabbit in my throat that fed till she ware in that middle

this certain bloom that tired at my linchpin
she found with much regard
that I saw her tomorrow a swirling zest in my caper.
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
My body steeps in this hot sarcophagus,
Coated in fake butter topping.

I watch trollops quaffing hoppy-scotch,
Flipping wristwatches for moves to jump rope two-and-two.

Like when I was 10, and I saw this ***** white trash can of a man,
Fly out of a grocery store with a 40oz like he was Peter Pan.

But I knew deep down, in my swashbuckling soul of souls,
That Peter Pan got Wendy by being a gentleman.

So this fever, that has my mobile phone not shaking in my pocket,
I keep staring at every five seconds for you to call.

Is just another moment in my life to cherish, because if we should be married, And I want to talk. I'll just need to walk down the hall.

— The End —