#topping - Hello Poetry

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!

0

Jan 22, 2018

Jan 22, 2018 at 5:01 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

SHORT ON TELOMERES

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!

40

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.

0

Sep 21, 2017

Sep 21, 2017 at 2:21 AM UTC

poetman

My Array Glowed

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.

7

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.

0

Apr 13, 2014

Apr 13, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC

martin-narrod

Phone Calls

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.

11