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#progeny
I think you want To be hurt by me As most often do
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May 23, 2023
May 23, 2023 at 11:56 PM UTC
Progeny
A Finn-Dorset clone, Now not the alone. Born on 5 July in 1996, She died on Valentine's Day in 2003. The celebrity sheep she died at the age of six, Produced not from the common ovine *** Somatic Cell Nuclear Transfer created her, read on. Named after Dolly Parton, 'Coz of her admired ***** Somatic cells were taken from a sheep's udders, Extracted not without the sheep's jitters. This sheep was the donor. However, these cells were enucleated, And the enucleated nucleus was handled. Injected it was into a Finn-Dorset's embryo, Oh yes, the embryo was without a nucleus. This sheep was the recipient. Without a folly, born was Dolly, Resemble she did the donor. Not only in its visible phenotype But also in its invisible genotype. Differ she did but only in her mitochondrial DNA. Her birth did open a new portal, Now pet lovers get their pets cloned.
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Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 11:16 AM UTC
Oh Dolly
(cira December 22nd, 1996) Abby tested positive, (sans colonized) with clusters of Group B streptococcus (GBS, a type of bacterial infection found within ****** and/or ****** undergoing routine prenatal examinations during third trimester of pregnancy with (Eden), which intent toward natural childbirth delivery preparations came to screeching halt, cuz said harmful naturally existing toxic secretions (detected within about 25% of all healthy, adult women), thus midwives at Bryn Mawr Birthing Center could no longer countenance (against good interdenominational faithful con science and any impending lawsuits) assist with timely delivery starkly aware of serious adverse risks via incumbent natural birth. * * * * * * * * * * * * Hence sea change immediately adopted pitting mum blame ming discombobulation as she scuttled linkedin with intravenous tubes game lee crossing Township Line Road (all the while, her body shored up lame basted with necessary intravenous sustaining nutriment fluids none of which I could name awaiting to be wheeled into sterile antiseptic hospital prenatal ward, where shame enveloped descended, where questions addressed to fly by night doctor brushed away unlike storybook television medics, where real life hectic frenzy all hustle and abustle becalm temporarily tame when cameo appearance of Doctor Do Little rushed into fray (hastening onset of cervical dilation to grow so he could, return as an ordinary Joe to his interrupted round golf with Trump at Mar-a-Lago) when labor pains did not start less or mo (at the convenience of obstetrician), a no name generic brand hailed from "doc" side of the moon oh most without consensus, hestarted "mother" on an IV infusion poe shun of oxytocin (brand name Pitocin), which agitation provoked roil (royal) row her disposition to high blood pressure quieted by attendant mid wives beaming at "starry eyed student," who uttered whoa Already daughter wasted no time lambasting us newly minted parents for intervening, sans natural status quo versus surrendering "scheduled birth" before launching into the peroration slow wing enunciation (something about Dorothy and the wizard of Id) in toto of a lengthy excoriating speech, she rehearsed while she bobbed around in utero like ma's yoyo. The departure from maternity ward back to Pennfield Manor Apartments of Hatfield, Pennsylvania appeared (hyperbole understated) as a double edged sword, an ill fitting car seat generating highest decibels screaming (do nut under estimate the lungs of a newborn) whom this papa being hard of hearing now, thereafter hitherto known as the pantomiming bard.
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Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 1:15 AM UTC
To "Sir" With Hate
(cira December 22nd, 1996) Abby tested positive, (sans colonized) with clusters of Group B streptococcus (GBS, a type of bacterial infection found within ****** and/or ****** undergoing routine prenatal examinations during third trimester of pregnancy with (Eden), which intent toward natural childbirth delivery preparations came to screeching halt, cuz said harmful naturally existing toxic secretions (detected within about 25% of all healthy, adult women), thus midwives at Bryn Mawr Birthing Center could no longer countenance (against good interdenominational faithful con science and any impending lawsuits) assist with timely delivery starkly aware of serious adverse risks via incumbent natural birth. * * * * * * * * * * * * Hence sea change immediately adopted pitting mum blame ming discombobulation as she scuttled linkedin with intravenous tubes game lee crossing Township Line Road (all the while, her body shored up lame basted with necessary intravenous sustaining nutriment fluids none of which I could name awaiting to be wheeled into sterile antiseptic hospital prenatal ward, where shame enveloped descended, where questions addressed to fly by night doctor brushed away unlike storybook television medics, where real life hectic frenzy all hustle and abustle becalm temporarily tame when cameo appearance of Doctor Do Little rushed into fray (hastening onset of cervical dilation to grow so he could, return as an ordinary Joe to his interrupted round golf with Trump at Mar-a-Lago) when labor pains did not start less or mo (at the convenience of obstetrician), a no name generic brand hailed from "doc" side of the moon oh most without consensus, hestarted "mother" on an IV infusion poe shun of oxytocin (brand name Pitocin), which agitation provoked roil (royal) row her disposition to high blood pressure quieted by attendant mid wives beaming at "starry eyed student," who uttered whoa Already daughter wasted no time lambasting us newly minted parents for intervening, sans natural status quo versus surrendering "scheduled birth" before launching into the peroration slow wing enunciation (something about Dorothy and the wizard of Id) in toto of a lengthy excoriating speech, she rehearsed while she bobbed around in utero like ma's yoyo. The departure from maternity ward back to Pennfield Manor Apartments of Hatfield, Pennsylvania appeared (hyperbole understated) as a double edged sword, an ill fitting car seat generating highest decibels screaming (do nut under estimate the lungs of a newborn) whom this papa being hard of hearing now, thereafter hitherto known as the pantomiming bard.
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91
Illustrious queen, set me free from the chains of my desire Though mere form, an eternal dream relieved by bursts of white fire A primordial odyssey from ocean's novel progeny Crawled out of Cambrian waters, fish who yielded the first daughters
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Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 3:49 AM UTC
Cambrian Code
. *Night dreams conjure births Such singing life waking us Bird song in morning*
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Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 10:44 PM UTC
Zz Sparkle Days
Thorns tickle my throat Come The cranes that feed their Children;           My son’s already inventing. The night’s my only staple Come The stars that sing for Others;           I list in endless insomnia. Slowly glowed the river Come The golden sorts of Dreams;           I leave them for my progeny           And surrender to what I’d sworn.
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Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 12:06 AM UTC
The First Child
When too full of self When too hasty to bring All attention to self No limit to singing Of glories of self To the self-serving egoist Ego dwells in all Serves a purpose over time Ego screams and hollers Like one stuck in slime, When it is time to let go Go it must for the good of all Just thank and let it go Promise it is for the best That the ego that lets go Finds peace to reside within All tamed and mature To tell many a story To the future progeny When too full of self When too hasty to bring All attention to self No limit to singing Of glories of self To the self-serving egoist
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Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 8:55 PM UTC
Ego Goes
O, little house. Little house of memories. With old locked doors And missing keys Places to go, things to see. O, little house. O, tiny house. Tiny of house of no more laughter Simply staring It's children after A great heavy weight upon its rafters. O, tiny house. O, lonely house. Who is left to you this day? All your children Gone away. Maybe they'll be back some day. O, lonely house. O, aging house. Once a place of joy and learning. Left alone Left dearly yearning The backs of children you raised now turning. O, aging house.
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Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
Oh, Little House.
Ignite the burning desire to dispel darkness Deep within your heart to light up the path Leading to a world full of love and bonhomie So many minds still stranded in dark streets With the passion to create widespread mayhem From darkness they return to darkness Dying a forlorn death, misdirected existence Unaware of the warmth of positive zeal Reach out to them, pass on the light Give them a direction, to the path of tranquility Every measured step leading to secured future Our posterity is holding our hands for direction If we not lead them to a better world Then who else will take the onus to dispel darkness
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Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 9:36 AM UTC
Dispel Darkness