"amoeba" poems
Years later
Bathsheba's psychiatrist
Was analysing the tryst
Between King David
And her.
It was no tryst
Said she.
What a slur.
He was a ******
And an opportunist.
An amoeba would concur
Said the psychiatrist
That a shower screen
And being more demure
Would have been
Quite spiritually enterprising.
You cannot expect
Kind David to desist
From objectifying your femurs
And a cracking pair of amethysts.
Don't treat me
Like some calculating
Hormone Exchange Unit
You sexist misogynist.
You are not fit
To analyse me.
You say your name's Freud
But you're wholly devoid
Of any insight
Of what is amiss
Or my troubles might be.
Not one piece of grit
Have you put in my oyster.
You obsequious churl
I'm a girl you don't mess with.
I could have you hung.
But instead she dismissed him
and booked an appointment
With a certain professor
Who went by the name of
Carl Gustav Jung.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC
Mother Nature rules the World,
And probably
The whole Universe.
Our Earth, a planet blue,
Just teems with Life.
Even deep beneath the ocean,
Amongst those geysers,
Oh so Hot,
You will find Life.
Lakes filled with acid,
Bone –dry deserts (look underground),
Solid sheets of ice:
They all are home-sweet-home
To bacteria
Or Viruses,
At the very least.
We bomb those cities to piles of rubble,
And poison the Earth with God knows what,
Yet always, given time,
Life will re-assert itself:
That sprig of couch-grass,
Those flowers.
Mother Nature never does give in.
Life springs eternal.
From amoeba to a dancing dolphin.
So utterly determined
To survive.
Clinging to existence
Like a limpet on a rock.
Invincible in Her tenacity.
Paul Butters
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 6:43 AM UTC
Ethereal and Base a harmony so diametric a solid.
Wisdom's forgiveness lands to the unyielding new,
white spray on black lava, merging
elemental minerals in salt water.
Life the mediator, yearns for compromise
algea harvests sunlight at the hard shore, grows into plants
fish munch coral creating sand washing up, a tree's foothold creating soil...
can rock become Earth any other way?
Mother's beauty, an unknowable generous smile
and confident grace from the sun.
Ages
sitting wrinkled and depleted to her waist,
beauty transforms
into unknowable generous laughter alighting graciously from wise eyes,
like a flock of Heaven's doves so close to home
stirred by her running children: daughter and son.
All the while all the yearning is unrequited.
For her children, Beauty is vertigo,
painful reality rooted to the shore.
Eyes long for the horizon, Vision Country
between sky holding its breath and water measuring out patience,
The heart spills out futile on the crystalline sea,
but Sadness, belonging to clear water,
lightly buoys lonely Ecstasy,
Completes the voyage.
The Vision pairs selfless love with unmet desire,
opposites' harmony the firmament,
but the sound breaks from tension and the echoes fade,
and the senses footing gives way;
vertigo with dove's wings tied shut.
Descending minuscule between dissipation
falling through molecules of bliss,
and diffusing atoms of despair,
to the last remaining positive and negative
and the tension's silver thin wire between.
It cuts tied wings free,
slingshots the dove's soul back up,
at the last second, the tension's iridescent thread tangles loosely on her foot.
She hurtles back up through the scales of size:
Microns, amoeba, minnows, birds, primates, people,
over trees, looking down at cities, mountains, yet higher
borderless nations, green and sand continents,
and again all the crystalline blue seas.
The silver filament draws taut, holds the dove's ascent,
wings slowing in awe as she views Mother Gaea
her intensely brilliant sphere accompanied by vivid tiny stars.
in a cold cold soundless night...
Grandmother teaching her children to fly;
Beauty's yearning realized complete.
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 8:52 PM UTC
zebra geebra
striped like an amoeba
or maybe like a striped cloth
thrown over a horse
but you don't race zebras
or amoebas
just a horse
but if the horse
had a striped saddle
it'd be a zebra
but not an ameba
but amoebas did evolve into zebras
and horses
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 6:03 AM UTC
There was a snail (named Dale)
with a very long tail
who ventured off into the world.
He said to himself
(Dale the snail)
I'd love to meet a bootiful goil.
So in a flash from space,
with mucus running down her face,
came an alien creature called Joan,
She saw a silver line
(it was a snail trail)
and followed it to see where it goes.
And far in ...the distance
she saw in an instance
at the end of the snail trail sparkling in the sun-
A slimy and sweet
creature she'd love to meet
with a shell on his back for a home.
She said:"I do declare,
you look dashing and fair"
as bubbles oozed from her eyes.
Dale just blushed,
as his face lit up,
and said: "aw you're just saying that you sassy young blob of an alien gawjus sweet thing with no hair :)"
She looked at this tiny dream of a slobber,
he was in awe at her globber.
But their hearts sank at their difference in size.
She was glandular large
like a bright yellow barge
and he was as small as a splarge.
A stick insect saw -
the tragedy of it all
and came up with a very cunning plan.
He knew a wizard once
who ate snails for lunch,
they could trick him to changing her small...
As he told them the tale,
their faces went pale
but their love was too strong for the fear.
So they slithered and shlozzered
to Joan's flying saucer
to find the castle of Wizzy the ****
The wizard was waiting
with his eyes full of hating
and a knife and a fork in each hand.
There was garlic and salt
that he took from his vault
and he drooled on his beard as he sang:
"Alien Shpeegle
with shnails in shmeegle,
a delightful shurprishe for a man!
Groggy my groach
with shome shlime on my toasht"
and he pranced and danced with his band.
The spacecraft landed,
unexpectant of ambush,
the couple wanderd on in.
Wizzy swung from a rafter
and trapped Dale in a corner,
and said: "My you'll go well with my Shtew!"
Joan got mad
and rolled on to her lad
and ****** the wizard into her goo.
She suddenly felt all tingly
as she turned into a twinky,
there was nothing more she could do.
The Wizard escaped
and poor Dale met his fate,
and was smeared on the twinky sliced in two.
Wizzy gobbled them up
with some glee in his cup,
and then succumbed to food poisoning goo.
So it seemed that it ended
on that dark cold September,
for the lovers who's loving was doomed...
But on a planet far away
at the early break of day
two souls bubbled in primordial stew.
An amoeba named Dale
and an amoeba named Joan
were floating in bubbles of gas,
So deep the attraction
-the magnetized action,
they could now be together at last.
Dec 11, 2010
Dec 11, 2010 at 1:38 AM UTC
WE CONSIDER THEM VERMIN--
these visitors
to the rotting corpses of our loved ones.
But what if
they’re only there to say
hello?
And when’s the last time you paid them a visit,
anyway?
Well let me tell you something:
the maggots and
worms
know where we're going.
Billions of years, billions of ancestors,
busily moving
through their lives in
isolated
blips--
They’re just data now.
And did John the Amoeba, feeding on sunlight, ever think
that somewhere down the line
his great-something-grandson
would be a poet?
A doctor?
A teacher?
A football player?
Did he ever think that his great-something-grandson would
sit in his room
and listen to
the Mountain Goats?
To be honest, probably not.
Grandpa’s a stranger.
He got sick when you were young, but you
could never
remember
the name of the disease.
But it all came down to the fact that he never recognized his own grandchild—
he was an ancient basket case whom you loved
because
that’s what
you were told
to do.
You were 13 when he died,
and his passing gave you an excuse
to be sad,
which worked out pretty well because
sadness
was the most stylish emotion
at Marblehead Charter
in 2007.
Grandpa won’t be there on your wedding day.
He’ll be with the vermin,
saying hello.
But you won’t mind—
you still love him anyway.
Because one day
you'll be in his place
and your grandson will be getting married
and you won’t be there,
but he'll still love you anyway.
And somewhere down the line,
you’ll be someone’s—something’s—John the Amoeba.
And you know you would be proud.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
What foes or friends do we perceive when we connect by chance conceived?
Would you care to explain how this is my fault?
Pray tell tis Joseph come to his census.
Come nigh so late to what truth evinces.
Four heed own Lay won knot thin kit sis...
Prays got a buff!
Fine uh Lee…
Coarse sit duhs pour ten dove baa doe mens.
Naughty ville purse say! Oar eve in dud ark Om end...
Shell Ira Bjorn ease? Orb headers till yore effete?
Ike ant aft tub Abe eave oar yew yen owe...
Wall oh win knit.
Gore Ida head.
Yuck use amoeba *** is hint umm eye fall tis zit?
Yuck cues amoeba ditz nada tall mite urn toot ache tub lame.
Bub I...
Hope Joe Ill step pup two wit all
Irie lay trill lee dew
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
a salutation, a benediction, a good wish
yet one so troubling, not from a lacking,
of sincerity
but from opacity
opacity~ the quality or state of a body that makes it impervious to the rays of light; the condition of lacking transparency or translucence; opaqueness
"Because space is a vacuum,
these good wish waves
can travel unimpeded and at
a constant speed through empty space,
eventually interacting with objects like
planets and telescopes upon arrival"
but I am not a vacuum, a void, and
do not exist within one,
here in my surroundings,
is much interface interference,
the light you send, has
bounced around endlessly
forever, till it may have hit
its intended target,
me
within, without,
and surely has picked up
some tagalong
amoeba, bacteria,
outside contradictories
that may have changed its very nature,
its purity disturbed,
"Pure light" contains a single wavelength or frequency
and cannot be broken down into other colors
but my confusion is indeed a spectrum of Joseph's many colors,
clashing and thrashing with each other,
cohering but not of necessity,
cohering, this a metaphor,
you so lightly send my way,
let us redirect its warm sensibility sensitivity,
let us take an /our inner glow; diffuse
if one cannot send light across the cosmos,
maybe across the Interpet, but just verbally,
send to me
please, absolutely,
tagged "for immediate delivery"
and I will store
all of it,
in my glass jar,
next to my heart,
and just
glow from within
to the with out
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 5:04 PM UTC
I am the most miserable amoeba aboard the amoeba train
I am the not so **** she-wolf of the amoeba train
because the amoeba train took me to Vegas and moved on--
I’m now a monkey!
An ugly monkey with blonde hair
and huge **** made of Tonka Trucks
I ******* hate these bananas!
Someone tell these toddlers
to stop playing with my *******
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 8:43 PM UTC
I'm struggling to comprehend this desire to be desired
The forces of nature and evolution in which we're mired
No matter how far we travel into space,
Or how many organs we manage to replace
We cannot transcend the basic instinct
To preserve the species from going extinct
The world keeps spinning at a whirlwind pace,
No time for contemplation, it's the human race
If you don't keep up you'll vanish without a trace
A terrible fate that we can't seem to face
Is to have ourselves and our lives erased
Is this all there is then?
For this great species of women and men
We've struggled, survived and conquered
But our genes are still our masters
We splice study and duplicate
And try to decipher the codes
But must make time to find a mate,
Before we're too old
We've been to the moon and travelled back
We've fought world wars and pandemic attacks
We've studied the brain and consciousness
We've challenged society's prejudices
But no matter what we achieve, build or transcend
We're haunted by the spectre of being barren
The ant, elephant and amoeba
Redwood, fungus and bacteria
The chimp, owl and lowly cockroach
May not have weighty subjects to broach
But for all our millennia of evolution
The name of the game's still reproduction
I wonder if we'll ever be
Even as evolved as sea anemones!
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 7:24 AM UTC
Chest-pounding, calf-wavering fun suspended effortlessly between the riverbanks, and hot, sweaty faces scour city limits for madness.
Beneath our towering majesty rainfall is upward
and all we hear is our inconsistent drumming.
Distant breath stirs our spirits with
promise of bubble wars christening a new dawn.
White hares peek out with wandering eyes of our huge black hats,
rumbling and grumbling, awake with a thirst for severed limbs.
Populated ***** stalks surround your amoeba of love
erasing time
and line
and rhyme
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 5:43 PM UTC
ii.
I have heard Sia's voice
First was on Titanium's music video
Which I clicked out of bore
Second was-- There was no second time
(Maybe there will be)
I cannot remember how Sia sings
All I want is to hear
Holly covering songs
(Somehow Holly reminds me of Zac)
Holly's voice is not the kind of sound
You would fall for in a second
It is true love you will feel --
How John said it is just perfect;
Like falling asleep
Slowly, slowly, then all at once
(I don't know how many times
This has been mentioned on hellopoetry)
I didn't really read romance
But M said (not to me),
If you want to write romance,
Write it like John did TFIOS
(Not that I want to write romance
Or write anything worth reading)
And this would appear as boring
And random, but no:
I remember, M said that
Usually the sentence that begins with
'Honestly'
Doesn't really contain that much honesty
So
Honestly,
Those above (and below) aren't really the things
I wanted to talk about
(It's confusing, if you think about it more)
I don't know anymore
How many times this Sia's Chandelier
(Holly's cover, of course)
Has been repeated
(Over and over again)
I remember, my favorite before this was
Marina and the Diamonds' Teen Idle
I remember Holly cut some part of the lyrics
It reminded me of Zac
Or was it Gwen?
I really like mixing up things-
Really
I like being here
The locked door of the bathroom
Makes me feel safe
And the toilet seat
Has known me
Better than myself
It is like a mother, or an other self
Who just accepts me for who I am
It knows the most of me
How I move, cry, and smile and laugh
How I sing, how I scream
Even how I grow, how I fall and die
How I tried to ********** and gave it up
How I became me, how I am me
And not only hows but also the tiring whys
It knows
It accepts
But I will leave
Soon
And this bed and this messy room
And the hidings and the accidental leakings
And the family's warmth and their love
I will leave
Soon
Sorry not sorry
That I am happy
To leave
Soon
iii.
There is no place to hide
So **** false identity
I will soon be forgotten
So **** shame, **** filter
They say people are people
Because of their secrets
Because they are mysteries --
It's my wish to be nothing
I want to let go
I want to let go
It's hard to be a human
I am too complex to be none
I once thought
I wanted to be an amoeba
And I think I still want it
It is a lot better than to have these organs
Especially this brain
I don't like this brain
It manipulates me
It controls me
It thinks for me and without it I am stupid
When would I be free?
I want the freedom to think
Brain, don't control me
Let go of me
Let go of me
All I want is honesty
I want truth
Live in truth, breathe in truth
Know only how to
Say only the truth
**** fears
I am afraid
To be nothing
To tell anything
To know anything
When I made this account
I forgot to rehumanize
People other than me
(Not that I did rehumanize myself)
I didn't expect you all
To be so human
**** fears
I am afraid
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 8:41 AM UTC
Rummaging noises that muscle into stark gravity
maiming
black & white finishes
into the hands of young artists
and everyday geezers
--drinking wine made for mad housewives.
We are seduced and strangled by this.
Spirits that knock seven times
on Hiroshima's soul that levitates through
planet Earth's oceans
--how can we not pull a ****
from our sweaty palms?
Gods, and doors, and chalk spittle
that gores the gorilla's back in the abyss
threatening hopeful snow--the lifting of applauding
violins. We are seduced and strangled by this.
Cultural amoeba--
the dimensional of minds
--made up of blank smoke
and film negatives.
And oh!
How the gasoline pours rainbows
on the pavement, fertilizing the crosswalks
where we danced...
seduced and strangled by this.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 12:04 AM UTC
There's a hole in my wall which the wind whistles through
And the wallpaper's mouldy and calamine blue
The carpet besmirched with a decade of grime
And the pattern is lost to a happier time
The journals and books where my memories stay
Have mixed and submerged in a fearful array
The curtains hang tattered in woeful neglect
Where the mildew and fungus and beetles collect
There's a hole in the floor where the mice have a nest
Where the walls creak and groan like a cancerous chest
And a puddle emerges from under the door
Like a serpent, it winds on the laminate floor
Underfoot, fragments of crockery crunch
Still stained with the leavings of long ago lunch
There's a rattle and scratching of verminous claws
The spoon never stirs so the *** never pours
There's a crack in the window that lets in the rain
Where it runs in a rivulet right down the pane
The mattress is rotten and rusted inside
Bacteria thrive and amoeba divide
The ceiling is sagging from waterlogged beams
And catches the sunlight with putrefied gleams
Like powder, the plaster is fast in retreat
With it's choking secretions, the air is replete
There's a trace of a life that was never fulfilled
Like a drink only sipped and then carelessly spilled
There's hope of a future and trinkets amassed
But frittered away and consigned to the past
The wires are old but the bulbs are still new
And pictures of vigor are hanging askew
As if from existence, vitality blinked
A carcass remaining though life is extinct
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 11:10 AM UTC
prickly little amoeba of a person
with no spine & skin that never molts
my passive-aggression falls flat
on dead ears, on dead eyes
this entity so empty, indifferent
nonsense eagerly conquered the front
my projections slept neatly in his vacuole
whilst i spit my repulsion on his flacid corpse
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 11:53 AM UTC
I am aggravated ether
in the moment
so I can't sleep on it
enigma dramatic
bathed in acid & oil
& all the clouds in the sky
are mostly smoke
blown in consoling faces
dole full in the wasteland.
dam & sire fanning the fire
in the furnace
lighted up for days.
they didn't know it could
turn around & burn us.
oh but,
I'm not learned enough.
all the **** while I'm
taking it all in.
three sixty, panorama.
light a ******* candle
& put me up on the mantle
when the mainframe scrambles
&don;'t let me down til
they've figured out time travel.
I won't have any of this.
still in my soul I am savagery.
& these bad *** habits
are all tragedies
considering the fact
that I can make magic
if I see it fitting
to the situation.
which doesn't clique
with certain niches,
they get kinda ******
...they shouldn't.
it's all ******** anyway.
sun slivers.
new day.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 4:14 PM UTC
1
He leant down
Quietly carving his name into the sand;
The pursuing waves,
Repeatedly rippling forward, with
The force of a motorized modern army
Gunning down civilians,
Dragged it clean.
Flies loquaciously buzzed around his head,
As, crushing down seaweed,
He carved his name again.
2.
The roots dug deep, pushing against
The soil. The particles spread apart
With sexless ardour. The man,
Of a tolerant disposition, wrenched
The roots free with drenched hands.
Nothing lasted forever.
3.
The yellow and green of the sunrise
Turned swiftly into unpretentious browns
The light changing shape as the
Morning matured and the sun
Rose further in the sky. Pumped up
Clouds rolled sinuously along, combining and separating
Like fantastic amoeba.
4.
And so it continued
Under the burning sun; more spiteful from year to year.
The man said nothing
As he climbed into the salt water,
Gulls circumnavigating above his head,
With nothing to say or remember
Except the lines in the sand.
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 6:34 PM UTC
*Loud Music
Music that soothes
Music that rejuvenates
Music that speaks to the souls
Loud music
Forget the lyrics
Its just the beats
On a repeat
For the amoeba thoughts
Swirling twirling Swimming in uncharted waters
Moulding them into set shapes
Queuing them up in rows
Taming down their pseudo waves
Music that has a feel
The pebbles cascading
down the stream ,
A tremulous tippy tappy sweet sound
To the heart it appeals, heals
Music that is light and tender
Dim the lights
Close the eyes
Let the music do the wonders
Music for the senses
That soothes rejuvenates
And speaks to the souls
In tongues ancient
Known ,yet unknown*
Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 6:46 AM UTC
T he memories always play back to haunt me.
R ummaging through a stack of vinyl records at Amoeba.
A nxiety finds its favorite record to play, speed up my heart rate... start the mosh pit.
U nderneath that pit, a prisoner sits.
M ay there come a day when freedom wins.
A nd until that day comes let the record play.
Dec 11, 2021
Dec 11, 2021 at 2:41 AM UTC
I lay here waiting in my skin for the tearing of the membrane
that seperates this world from the next one and I let myself
get carried along by a fresh stream of reasoning until I
flare up in the dark like a new species of amoeba
this balancing and spinning around on an atom and just not
falling off it becomes boring at times and maybe because of that
sporules once landed here to grant us the possibility
of another possibility
I lay here waiting and I manage not to drown just like only
an almost newborn baby can and being born in 1983
means nothing here in the swelling infinity
of the abnormal
my skin has been waiting for new atmospheres for decades
and the touch of unknown forms makes me shudder with
raw impervious happiness because invisible energy
effervesces alongside my arms and the eyes in my skull
could be anyone’s right now
suddenly the waiting is forgotten and I wallow myself
in the gathered fairy tales of every soul that preceded me
carelessly astonished and uncapable of understanding
the seriousness of this absurd life
inside me irrational poetry dances
like a tribe jumping around a bonfire
outside the universe
dances her own eternity
round and round
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 7:33 PM UTC
***** to the percussion of sound.
The harshness devastates all the people around,
That’s what our embodiment occurrences bring.
Violence seduces,
Into the predilection of wounding,
the populace **** your ******* faith.
Be a ******* human!
I am!
We all learn,
Some faster than others,
To belong to,
Like minds.
I tiptoe through the agoraphobic xenophobe,
That is the amoeba of darkness,
That soul eats you called government and falsity.
All things you see are redundancies.
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 1:53 PM UTC