"amebas" poems
what is it like to
sit
on laundromat tiles
with fish eyes blank
slack jaw
words coming out
"you're too young"
my porcelain skin
isn't china doll thin;
i've felt things inside that rupture
stitching
that morph into a blazing
hot sun because i feel
it's burn in every molecule
thrown under microscopes and watching
the chemical reaction of knowing
you're in love and being in love and always wanting love
with the one person who gives you love
as amebas you can't
measure the age
"oh yes it's love, no
doubt about that"
scientifically proven.
but when you add a
slight skeleton
skin with cuts and scars
from off balanced racing on concrete
with feet that feel every
material of every terrain
and wide eyes that smile
because
life can truly be beautiful.
when you add all that-
love somehow becomes less potent
as if the inner
bonds of feeling
are taken less
seriously.
tell me this;
my lips curve around his name
and my voice box softens
and slows,
dragging out letters
like they hold a story in each one
and to me they always will
should that change with age, should it lessen?
my heart pumps in the same rhythm that
it will 20 years from now.
love has no age
it exists in timeless capacities
and does not know numbers,
it will not see them
it sees two hands
holding one another
gently like
sacred white doves
alighting on aspen
branches
with roots that bury in deep-
but bark as tender
as newborn babies
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 12:52 AM UTC
Durante muchos siglos
la costumbre fue ésta:
aleccionar al hombre con historias
a cargo de animales de voz docta,
de solemne ademán o astutas tretas,
tercos en la maldad y en la codicia
o necios como el ser al que glosaban.
La humanidad les debe
parte de su virtud y su sapiencia
a asnos y leones, ratas, cuervos,
zorros, osos, cigarras y otros bichos
que sirvieron de ejemplo y moraleja,
de estímulo también y de escarmiento
en las ajenas testas animales,
al imaginativo y sutil griego,
al severo romano, al refinado
europeo,
al hombre occidental, sin ir más lejos.
Hoy quiero -y perdonad la petulancia-
compensar tantos bienes recibidos
del gremio irracional
describiendo algún hecho sintomático,
algún matiz de la conducta humana
que acaso pueda ser educativo
para las aves y para los peces,
para los celentéreos y mamíferos,
dirigido lo mismo a las amebas
más simples
como a cualquier especie vertebrada.
Ya nuestra sociedad está madura,
ya el hombre dejá atrás la adolescencia
y en su vejez occidental bien puede
servir de ejemplo al perro
para que el perro sea
más perro,
y el zorro más traidor,
y el *** más feroz y sanguinario,
y el asno como dicen que es el asno,
y el buey más inhibido y menos toro.
A toda bestia que pretenda
perfeccionarse como tal
-ya sea
con fines belicistas o pacíficos,
con miras financieras o teológicas,
o por amor al arte simplemente-
no cesaré de darle este consejo:
que observe al **** sapiens, y que aprenda.
978
You are here.
You are surrounded,
engulfed,
great leaping majesty.
You are enthralled,
on some polished dance floor,
we,
us ,
it.
You hear your name,
but it isn't your name anymore.
You have no name.
You are it.
You are the crowd.
Saved,
mass hysteria.
You are possessed,
like the hounds of hell themselves,
barking,
snarling,
there are many heads in this slobbering,
sweating,
gyrating,
uncontrollable beast you find yourself in.
Like the first amebas to grow more than one cell
and slunk successful from the primordial ooze
you are the essence of life
and progress.
You are the crowd,
unrestrained,
untainted.
You are complete.
Every one moves as one,
an unchained energy,
unknown.
You want to scream out,
it screams out,
it is unparalleled,
unholy,
a movement,
a merging,
an unconquerable amassing of souls.
Screaming,
teaming,
shouting together,
the very fire that fuels the furnaces of hell.
Moved beyond the mortal,
and alone.
There are certain words
I wish existed
but don't.
There are certain times
when the guttural noises
I can bark out
do not satisfy the world around me
do not satisfy description.
Amazing
Fantastic
Starstruck
Bewildered
Brilliance
Genius
Infamous
Indescribable.
None of these things come close.
None of these things satisfy,
satiat.
I am made mad by its presence.
What can I do?
How...?
Majesty,
heavens,
spiralling,
and unspoken.
Where do these things come from?
No where near.
No where here.
They are above us
and unforgivable.
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 1:55 PM UTC
I wonder
If the animal
The dog, duck, cat, and cow
Believe in life eternal
Or only think of now
I wonder
When the trees
Lose leaves
Will I hear them grieve
If they break a branch
Do they cry in pain
Do they think of God
Do they die in vein
I wonder
Who answers God's prayers
Does he pray at all
Or is that rare
I wonder
If God's so great
And we're so small
Are we like amebas
Does he care at all
I wonder
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 7:13 AM UTC
The American Dream
Is so pristine
That it is out of reach
It never existed in the first place
Just a placebo to keep people moving like amebas
In the membrane
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 4:01 PM UTC