"amoebas" poems
It’s bad enough I’m just known as
that squiggly piece of the alphabet
but what’s worse are the jokes of
Why the long face Kevin?
Those are the times when I wish
I could give as good as I get
it's not as bad as facing the guys
with bloated stomach and ***
and have the amoebas ribbing me
incessantly
****** single celled creatures**
They have an idea, but they can’t guess
Poseidon take you Janet!
for leaving me in such a mess!
You take all of me without leaving
just a single ounce of pleasure
and I’m left birthing
your demon spawn
You were just a mistress Seahorse
in disguise weren’t you?
I’m no longer an oddity
now I’m something less
*Seahorse blues
a male in distress*
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 8:49 AM UTC
(Rock Lake, Canada)
In this country there is neither measure nor balance
To redress the dominance of rocks and woods,
The passage, say, of these man-shaming clouds.
No gesture of yours or mine could catch their attention,
No word make them carry water or fire the kindling
Like local trolls in the spell of a superior being.
Well, one wearies of the Public Gardens: one wants a vacation
Where trees and clouds and animals pay no notice;
Away from the labeled elms, the tame tea-roses.
It took three days driving north to find a cloud
The polite skies over Boston couldn't possibly accommodate.
Here on the last frontier of the big, brash spirit
The horizons are too far off to be chummy as uncles;
The colors assert themselves with a sort of vengeance.
Each day concludes in a huge splurge of vermilions
And night arrives in one gigantic step.
It is comfortable, for a change, to mean so little.
These rocks offer no purchase to herbage or people:
They are conceiving a dynasty of perfect cold.
In a month we'll wonder what plates and forks are for.
I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here.
The Pilgrims and Indians might never have happened.
Planets pulse in the lake like bright amoebas;
The pines blot our voices up in their lightest sighs.
Around our tent the old simplicities sough
Sleepily as Lethe, trying to get in.
We'll wake blank-brained as water in the dawn.
3.8k
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
With the magical banner held high
invoking the crocodile rain of oppression by elites
of greed by leeches and bacteria, amoebas and suckers
oh come all come one, join our revolution against dark powers
Oh.. who in rightful mind could refuse
off she went to hear hot propaganda of those high and mighty folks
who took food from baby's mouth and live likes kings in our homes
fed in Le Cordon Bleu a'la Rouge with lashings of aspic fabrications
Without hesitation she swallowed all up,
I'm in and I am an Activist show me the culprit, what can I do
all for one, one for all, that parasite deserves miseries and doom
Easy comrade sister, get to know him and help us do his head in
It's a sport for us that elitist blood sucker
just get under his skin for us, let's play his mind and infest his head
report back to us, inner knowledge is power and we're fighting a war
comrade sister, our hot Activist marched forth on with vim and vigor
comrade sister wholly followed her brief
though soon saw things weren't as the revolutionaries presented
conflicted and confused she felt pity for a rare icon held in gallows
but the majority carries the vote and all is fair in love and red war
At her cost and with a wretched heart she gave her all
did as she was told and played her part as a true comrade in line
Solidarity she give to the fight, was mean and nasty as demanded
It's them or us they say and see comrades I give my services to you
all
No medals for Comrade sister, no epaulette yet earned
rather at her cost her privacy invaded and smears throws at her
tales of dark deeds and loose morals hung on her in dark corners
yet that poor heroine fought and gave so much blood for the cause
where is the honour amongst thieves and knaves
she did all that was required of her
told the lies she was made to tell and played the game as taught
stood at the barricades and ****** her guilt and conscience
yet they still don't trust her for paranoia rules them all
Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 3:31 PM UTC
Some dayz I just wanna be lazy
Sometimes a lil mazy going trough every lil twist and turn from start to finish
Maybe I'll get a prize for making it to end end
Maybe I'll win
Man some dayz I just wanna be lazy seeing things pretty hazy
It's crazy how I feel this way
Maybe I'll see the other side
Meeting to be alive
Honey comb on a bee hive
Feeling alive
Giving out good vibes
But nah some dayz I feel lazy
Giving it out real blazing
Saying I'm honored is amazing
So maybe I'll get a stand ovation
Comparing to a tribe nation
How I'm great like the queen of seba
Speaking like gooey amoebas
But nah some dayz I just feel lazy
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 5:49 PM UTC
Life: A Carnival
In so many ways
we are a human freak show,
just a breathing carnival attraction.
So get the **** off your high horse,
look around
be mesmerized,
hypnotized
and wonderized by a world of awe.
Let’s get real,
move a few strands of DNA
from here to there,
drop some chromosomes at the deli
to re-arrange their eating patterns
and we would see that
those mindless amoebas down the street
is talking our language.
Of all the billions of species
populating this planet,
we humans are the most
ignorant, opinionated,
**** for brains fools.
We puff out our stupidity
on a regular basis,
books, movies, music,
TV and social media
24/7/365
there is no end to the
racist, slime eating,
motherfukers
brought out in grand displays
as “experts”
in a single hour
of opinion disguised as “news”
on Fox, or CNN,
NBC, ABC or CBS
a menagerie of fools.
The world is a marvelous place,
alive with diversity,
which we should embrace.
All of us, humans wide,
emerged from Africa,
humanities origins
10's of thousands of years ago.
We humans are a carnival,
a side tent freak show,
all diverse and magnificent.
And to all those idiot
religious fanatics,
USA, USA ignoramuses,
de-evolve your brains,
slither back under your rock,
go back to your ancient,
long gone
humanoid origins,
become like you are,
extinct.
Aztec Warrior/redzone 8.28.16
Note: yes it’s a rant after watching an hour of Fox
CNN and MSNBC news... I must go throw up now.
Apologies to Natalie Merchant whose song “Carnival”
is embedded below, her song is a much more kinder
celebration of our diversity.. I on the other hand
cannot stay calm in the face of fascist fanatics
pretending to speak for human beings.
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 10:16 AM UTC
Deep down
I crave the sacred
Now that everything is
Just a dust mote limping along
The curvature of a light beam
in this dilapidated house
I've winked
At everything but the kitchen-sink --
Although, I do have my eye on it
Cynic
Know-it-all that knows he knows
Nothing
Conflicted
I wish I knew subtlety
Mona Lisa's quarter-smirk
Makes my emojis feel
Sorta slutty --
like they try too hard ya know?
^.^
Heaven:
Rainbow-colored
toothbrush mustaches
And
Killer drones friended by elm trees
Dissimulation is
my religion
Because
it just explains things,
It walks back the big crutch
It makes gods into amoebas
All. I. have. are. words.
******* scribbles.
Stillborn syntactical limbs of whim
Severed at the moment of send
Yet still
I deliver and hold them
Close to me
They are my ex-press
A last confession straight to the quick
The world doesn't spin it screams
We just Van Gogh it with
Slurry nite nite sleep tight's
God, what I would give
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC
~~~
I picked up my feeble pen
To metaphor the sky
But I could not do it
No matter how I tried!
Clouds, like pale amoebas
Slow but surely climb...
No. That's too earthy
For something so Sublime!
Clouds, like clumps of cotton
Roll across the Moon...
No. Clouds, like wispy hair
Flow over a balloon... NO!
Clouds, pale sheer paisley silk
Slide over the moon's breast....
Yes! I DO like THAT one!
My pen can finally rest!
SoulSurvivor
(C) 9/13/2016
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 3:06 AM UTC
If we had no bones
Were only bags of skin
Stretched like amoebas
Barely holding our insides in
Our bodies would be jelly
And have no form at all
Without our bones to hold us up
No longer would we stand tall
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 8:14 PM UTC
as we momentarily depart
on this night
invaluable seconds
turn into slow sailing snails
and the bottomless void you have filled
comes forcefully undone
a coral kissed satin ribbon unwinding
to pull you back into my arms
as we momentarily depart
on this night
unforgivable distance
splits our bodies apart
like microscopic amoebas
holding on to a never ending current of flight
we might be identical beings
running in opposing directions
(at this point in our lives)
but our souls know better
that soon will come a time
where;
our flesh and bones will reunite
where;
our lonely days will then be yesterday's moonlight
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 11:38 AM UTC
there are amoebas in me
half are black
half are white
black knows the difference between right & wrong
white knows the difference between wrong & right
I am a castle
made of sugar cubes
I am Einstein
as a fetus
I am a trampoline without springs
but most of all,
I am a liar and a square shooter
and often
don't know what the difference is
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 6:09 AM UTC
Thoughts drip from my mind as
globulous glassy fluids of emotion.
The curtains drawn,
the veil of love lifted and
bare truths litter the ground
at my feet.
Starry dreamlike flickers
each turned into glaring suns of acceptance;
the loss confounds me.
Amoebas shifting, pushing.
Meniscus pulls back each rush of liquid mess
my heart squeezes through new eyes
in its feeble attempt to fill the void
so glaringly obvious now
with something, anything.
Swallowed whole,
All sense of knowing lost.
The fabric of my undestanding
torn from under me.
As I fall
Betrayal nudges the corners of realisation
but its too loud an echo to make sense of.
Not ready yet.
As the liquid marbles
load up and fire their last
passionate pleas for compassion
the reality knocks intently
I push to keep it out
A long and useless fight.
Amoeba of pain Takes me over.
Senseless,
nothing left to try.
I brace;
waiting for the tears to run dry...
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 7:17 AM UTC
I've become bilateral tainted--
By coincidences and ageing
Aegis fragments,
I wear sickle seeking madness-
Telling water to float, so dryads
Could root with xylem or phloem.
While the amoebas play
Webs like violin; harps-
The trees felt sorrow singing
--And dropped, but one leaf.
For--
This-was--
A waking-
'Wake'
I only tried-to-die once.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
I can't help but think of the scores of demons dying halfway across the planet
in my backyard
In my house
People filling their bellies with opinions on things they know nothing of
But this doesn't do as much damage as the real work
there are those killing taking action taking lives
in real time
trying their hardest to beat the tally
to beat the board
in this bored *** life
I almost respect them for wanting to make a dent of their own
Cataclysmic,
wiping dinosaurs clean
whipping amoebas and monkeys into shape
Doing something is better than drowning in möbius waves of linens and comforters
My rabbit hole hand looking dried and thirsty while cupping the brook side run off
Tongue lapping ****** sores on the outskirts of my only remaining power source
I stay silent and let loose control of the scores
Like justice, unbiased
And of course I am still looking forward to a slick hair back And focus time.
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 4:48 PM UTC
We started here at the Big Bang
And traced our steps fifteen million years ago
To a single cell being born in the ocean
From the ocean
We crawled on amphibian legs
Lounged in the sun with reptilian pride
Until the trees called our names
We climbed the highest mountain peaks
Just to jump off the edge
We watched the steps of evolution
From beginning to end
As we swan dived
And the judge rated us a perfect ten
We fell into the ocean
And shattered into a thousand amoebas
In a few more cycles
We’re doomed to repeat processes
One thru eight
Oct 9, 2011
Oct 9, 2011 at 9:33 AM UTC
i made with you / gumby graphics
gifts of kiss
parameters of malleable minutia in misfit music
meanderings of our midnight sting
our bodies in bonafide brevity, singing
seeking seiks' mischievous apathies
on the fringes
IMAX movie-like scenes without acting out / words
tongues
the levity or suspenseful sanctions / unhinged
members and mouths mapping galactic absurdities
Mars and mercurial in star-crossed appetites
burning as suns should; meteorites / streaking sky;
in wonderful dining and gustful bites - eyes
full of asteroid-desires coalescing
masculinity in every copious opus / in rites
of unforgiving depths / in blinding supernova nights,
forever ever / in a name of fantastics and amoebas
these boys worshipping planets x, y, z / emotions coax & ***** elastic
strength of steeds, drinking the implacid body's
mead / wrestling without a fight's reprieve
fires, our mouths, / incite body-art / completely received
intrigued with warm inner spaces
paint brush of hours in museums of sweat / engraved,
encased / ******** sunburst theories on theories of tastes
and comets stroked / our body-art in hues
which love forever ever levitates . . . in spacial haste
wormholes and Thanatos amused.
Beautiful Eros rain : Bodies paint.
(nebulae & you.)
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 7:47 PM UTC
Love's Evolution
by Michael R. Burch
Love among the infinitesimal
flotillas of amoebas is a dance
of transient appendages, wild sails
that gather in warm brine and then express
one headstream as two small, divergent wakes.
Minuscule voyage―love! Upon false feet,
the pseudopods of uprightness, we creep
toward self-immolation: two nee one.
We cannot photosynthesize the sun,
and so we love in darkness, till we come
at last to understand: man’s spineless heart
is alien to any land. We part
to single cells; we rise on buoyant tears,
amoeba-light, to breathe new atmospheres ...
and still we sink.
The night is full of stars
we cannot grasp, though all the World is ours.
Have we such cells within us, bent on love
to ever-changingness, so that to part
is not to be the same, or even one?
Is love our evolution, or a scream
against the thought of separateness―a cry
of strangled recognition? Love, or die,
or love and die a little. Hopeful death!
Come scale these cliffs, lie changing, share this breath.
Keywords/Tags: love, evolution, *** lust, cells, chemistry, electricity, darkness, night, stars, photosynthesis, shared breath, microscopic, amoebas, pseudopods, microbes
May 11, 2020
May 11, 2020 at 10:41 PM UTC
sink, sink
in lake, brain-eating amoebas await
enticing,
murky waters eat heartily
the titanic of unrequited love:
remains, unexplored
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 1:20 AM UTC
~for S.,
who needs to look up
nada et. al.,
for & cause,
she was the
implanter-in-chief~
<>
by now
you know exact my meaning,
the daily diurnal,
the witchs why you keep
a log, a journal,
of the all memories mundane,
pleasurable and pained,
the stuff of life
which morphs into
the stuffing of your
scribing,
aged pages
of endless fascinations,
of the tiny artifacts,
the dance habits,
muscular sized,
from moment of
first arousal,
to the last thought
clanging,
all are impressed upon
your closing jail door eyelids,
all these minutiae
now nightly benightly
locked in,
the actions and reactions,
that choose you,
or vice versa
the A to Zed
of who you be,
what summaries get kept
in your head,
of who you
were, was, when,
now storaged
in that stainless steel
attic of
you actions
in living color, the
terrible and the tedious
all these seedlings of amoebas,
of unending routine edges,
that define
your selving delving,
and shelving of
yourselves,
the best mysteries
of your personal histories,
that you’ll take to your graveriueries^
t h e y
are the original origins of a life,
you who walked you out of the sea,
to become the
salt of recorded history
sprinkled upon
your poetry…
<>
and those ****
they
said you
couldn’t rhyme
worth a dime
ah well,
they~them
last seen
entering
the hated gated
halls of hell
sighing,
while I’m
laughing,
Rolfing^
on my
Armstrong ceiling tiling^
Oct 27, 2024
Oct 27, 2024 at 9:48 AM UTC
Puddles of rain form gelatin-like amoebas on a shiny black rail.
Waiting to be windswept and float off to another landing place.
Unmoved by vociferous bluejays, hypersensitive and affected by mounds of coffee and glucose; their rushing with urgent energy to be heard and to speak truths unfounded and non-sensical.
All still beyond a longing for certainty; quiet in the flow of illusion that roils incessantly yet uncontrolled and preordained.
Tears of joy to soothe a parched sphere; and we begin again…
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 8:48 AM UTC
In the muck of wonder
We were both there
I ran my tendicle's deep
Through your carnal tares
Two amoebas thriving alive
Such poetic protoplasm
Even as parasites
We survived
Life after life!
Jul 22, 2019
Jul 22, 2019 at 6:48 AM UTC
You can measure yourself to southern star stars, octopus hairy amoebas - You were created as a human, so use your head consciously and think! The iris of your existence feels back and always returns to its corpse, and because you always know: As a sore tumor, your consciousness grows in you so that you can leave memory traces behind you! Who else can perish with you if you suddenly go and get over there - if at all - what kind of otherworldly **** non-existence ?! "Your orphanage, too — may have become more conscious, in which you cherished the Hailing Hope as the eternal treasure of Hope, and as a hanged Man on a rotting tree branch — even with a confident face on the handshakes of Sensitive Gaze!"
You can know that even without you, Being will gradually steal your gift-graces, and yet in your heart there is an unconditional, proud shard of a mysterious smile breathing for you and a small wall of the sorrowful moon! "The Mercenaries have long been alienated from you, who could only take care of themselves!" On your sad, constantly squeezed face, the terrifying Moonlight still fingers with its tentacles, and in the depths of the well-pit of your soul, the dreaded fear still builds its crystal towers! In the cup of your face - if you want to - rosy dawns are hardly blushing and your cherished dreams are popping up! - You feel in your heart, in love, the greedy mole is chewing more and more zealously; deep, crusted Time can only mature slowly! - The curious, exploratory child is hiding in you like a shadow, only to be always open to peoples.
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 12:32 AM UTC
The colors of the sky
They vary, so wild
One base color
A light, calm blue
O what a wonderful hue
We are all someone's child
And at one point or another, we all cry
The other colors of the sky
I know not why
But there are so many
Things moving, fast as the spinning of a penny
Purple, yellow, orange, green,
Red, pink, white, blue, black,
Electric blue, maroon, indigo,
Violet, scarlet, gold, navy,
Aqua, mint, burgundy,
Fusha, midnight, cream,
Neon pink, neon green,
Neon blue, neon yellow,
Any and all colors you can think of
Moving up there, before my eyes
I tell no lies
These shapes, lines, and things I see
O, how can they be?
Somewhat faded
Some more pronounced
They came in, unannounced
It looks like some faraway place was raided
And the loot was spilled into the sky
I know not why
But it simply is
Circles, squares, rectangles,
Squiggling lines, moving all about
Things that resemble amoebas
Looking almost like oil and water mixed on a sidewalk
About this strange thing, I could talk
For so long
Is it so wrong?
Something so wonderful and obscure
If there were one, I would not want a cure
Some see them
As I do
It appears to be a field with a gem
Up above me
But what about you?
- Jay M
February 5, 2020
Feb 6, 2020
Feb 6, 2020 at 12:13 AM UTC
The Evolution of Love
by Michael R. Burch
Love among the infinitesimal
flotillas of amoebas is a dance
of transient appendages, wild sails
that gather in warm brine and then express
one headstream as two small, divergent wakes.
Minuscule voyage—love! Upon false feet,
the pseudopods of uprightness, we creep
toward self-immolation: two nee one.
We cannot photosynthesize the sun,
and so we love in darkness, till we come
at last to understand: man’s spineless heart
is alien to any land.
We part
to single cells; we rise on buoyant tears,
amoeba-light, to breathe new atmospheres ...
and still we sink.
The night is full of stars
we cannot grasp, though all the World is ours.
Have we such cells within us, bent on love
to ever-changingness, so that to part
is not to be the same, or even one?
Is love our evolution, or a scream
against the thought of separateness—a cry
of strangled recognition? Love, or die,
or love and die a little. Hopeful death!
Come scale these cliffs, lie changing, share this breath.
Keywords/Tags: love, microscopic, amoebas, pseudopods, microbes, photosynthesis, darkness, night, stars, evolution, shared breath
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 5:03 AM UTC
__Black__ eyes look with sorrow
__Grey__ eyes glance back
__White__ smile gleams in the dark
__Purple__ hearts reach out
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 3:05 PM UTC