"biotic" poems
Black shawls over glass
To prevent staring eyes
From the hatred from inside.
Masks glued, taped, stapled, nailed on the faces.
“Is it true,
Self-mutilation prevents isolation?”
Why must there be pain?
Why must there be pain?
In foggy Tupperware, tinted pink,
Some firm rose jello. She did think
It spoke oddly, like a jack-in-the-box.
Walks, talks, mocks, shocks, paradox-in-the-box,
But no socks.
The jello wasn’t jello.
Jello breaks no hearts.
“He wasn’t the fellow.”
He was mundane,
It was quite in vain.
Lost in clouds of thoughts,
He saw faces in blurs, in purples and slurs.
Hiding in needles and giggles,
His heart is escaping.
He knows well bacteria multiply.
[Quite an education, for your information.]
His infection, anti-biotic resistant.
Willing, the suicide persisted.
He’s stuck in the chain.
“God, he’s in pain!”
So many broken, so many shattered,
Tucking pieces behind painted faces.
Cotton candy-covered black clouds hound
The carnival where everyone’s a clown.
Clown ashes, dolls, and masks scattered,
Behold a grand masquerade.
No kisses for Phantom,
He cut his lips on the glass.
It wasn’t random.
God, I’m insane!
I am sane.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 8:44 PM UTC
it is circulated deep into the soil
that you’ve wore the dress of paraffin
in the multidimensional wind of the winter
the cash-memo of the recently purchased
gold-bangles
would reside for some time more
then all the pregnant women
would assemble in the river-ghat
to meditate on the paddy-blossoms
all diamonds and clubs
would overcome their insomnia
through this arrangements
the crushing-news of fostering
flows
this dilution is well-known
the river-ripple of the air
after reading the sun
would keep some extension of dahlia
on its palms
in an unwritten evening
the demi-god-birth of the fire-flies
would break
their easy dead bodies
by the instigation of the surges
would ring … and ring… and ring
and spread cheerfulness
the elderly rain-tree comes to spray anti-biotic
on the spoilt top-branch of the young lad
covered with citronella
Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 4:35 AM UTC
Silent voices will open the sky.
Desperate tentmakers will be comforted.
With rain from above that different from the usual.
Embrace the flood, go with it, collide.
Dont trust your international instinct.
Dig, dig, dig it out, search your heart.
There is something inside of you.
I know that youre in the battle now.
Between your inward and outward being.
You have been defeated by your flesh and desires.
Learn how to be giant over it.
Look at the days, the deadline has been set.
Dont allow this chronic noise disturb your silent.
Energize yourself and ignite your senses.
The grace has been poured out.
Come, lets eat the word and drink the right one.
Truly, we will not dismay, we can stand firm.
The truth will guide us into the road to eternity.
This path has a signature printed by the Creator.
As the hour goes by, this will be our nature.
We will set this city on fire, burning hot.
The biotic and abiotic will know Him.
And acknowledge Him as the Maker of all them.
Clap your hands, you low self-esteem kids.
Put your trust and believe that you will be deliver.
In all your ways acknowledge.
And He will make your path straight.
May 15, 2010
May 15, 2010 at 1:13 AM UTC
Magnetic Contaminations & Audiotronic Visions,
Sublimating Poetic Transmutations Of Her Catatonic Provisions,
Primordial Metamorphosis Of Her Synthetic Overtunes,
Revealing Self-Perpetuated Biotic Tunes,
Protoplasmic Sparks In Her Cryptic Eyes,
Condensing Into Labyrinthine Whispers & Mortal Butterflies,
Myriad Phantasms On Feral Nights,
Fervid Effigies Under Moaning Lights,
Phantasmal Echoes & Mystic Whisperings,
Catalyzing Crepuscular Skies Under A Moonlit Spring,
Spiritual Crafts & Her Supernova Screams,
Evaporating Molotov Solution Of Her Liquified Dreams,
Untouched Realms & Her Ecstatic Overflows,
Refueling With Fantasy Effects Of Her Verbal Glows,
Arcane Stains & Her Floral Clones,
Primal Profanity Raining Over Her Coral Throne,
Handmade Essence Of Her Still-Born Eternity,
Recklessly Serenading Through Her Lacteal Galaxy,
Hypersonic Dreams & Venomous Virility,
Tampering Her Ionic Revelations Of Exquisite Hostility,
Progressive Factuals & Her Motionless Serenity,
Invocating Her Violets Serving Blue Infinity,
Apparitional Mirrors & Her Immaculate Misconceptions,
Weaponizing Fireflies In Whisky Perceptions.
- 05:52AM -
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 8:22 PM UTC
You're peering out for Sunshine
a cascade like yellow Dust falls.
The cavities will fill in time, enough for a Stadium.
The Pro-biotic yoghurt in your Duffel bag
is no longer ship shape,
a green mould from somewhere else is seeping.
I swear something has to give.
Your only defence a Swiss Army knife,
somehow speckless from your childhood draw.
Later the Night sky begins to crackle
like you knew before.
Your only thought Mary
the local dental hygienist you fell in love for.
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 12:19 PM UTC
For Hannah
She's sitting at the
kitchen table,
Full of strep and forced
to read a book
by a mom who believes
the mind can continue to flourish
while its carrying case
suffers.
Forcing fluids,
killing biotic enemies
She sits silently
while I listen to the
Happiest Music I know,
Linus and Lucy;
She frowns,
more from pain
than distaste.
Mom cooks lasagna
and brother scouts the fridge.
Nothing looks good
She thinks.
She says.
She feels.
Oct 17, 2023
Oct 17, 2023 at 5:10 PM UTC
they sat in the tray
eagerly awaiting planting day
24 little beauties
of various shapes and sizes –
some, sisters
strains cut from the same mother
others, new to the farm
and new to me
I give them all the love of a doting father
gently and tenderly caressing leaves
and giving soft encouraging words
of success and growth –
today I bring in a Durban and a Rhino
and the set is complete
they join a cornucopia;
a white widow
a Burmese kush
one little stout body
called a Deep Purple
lemon pledge
sits alongside
a lambs breath crossed
with a sour diesel
the gorilla glue #4
looks lovely in the afternoon light….
I smile at the rows of little ladies
thinking about the next 5 months –
sunlight
infused soil
compost tea
giving them only the best
of the organic foods
micro-biotic nutrients
and cool well-water
bending them ever-so-slightly
to encourage a larger canopy…
it’s going to be a good year,
again –
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 4:19 PM UTC
ruminating about the death of Lorca
I **** time in the void of biology
I try to imagine the executions of
the revolutionary
The Innocent
try time
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
Which of these does man have control over? (Choose all that apply)
_ Rainfall deficits trigger biotic crisis
_ Acid rain decimates ecosystems
_ ICBMs rain down destruction
_ None of the above
Nov 3, 2019
Nov 3, 2019 at 7:32 PM UTC
Future Craft
Once the Gryphons flew in a mighty air fleet.
Now there are only twelve left.
Each with a poetical name like Kesef.
Let us fly aboard such a craft.
A 9th generation biotic craft.
Sentient and aware looking like a big dragonfly.
They subdued entire continents
Armed with unbelievable weapons.
Flown by reborn pilots.
Each totally committed to his task.
Connected to his machine.
Pilot and war plane as one.
Unbeatable in battle.
God and Goddess like in power.
With their names and legacy.
Utterly beautiful in flight.
One family of advanced flying machines.
All created by a young pretty woman.
Her mind was a gift…
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 7:25 PM UTC
One may find it boring or lonely
Living the life of a tree
Yet with all of its daytime happenings and biotic surrounding,
It just couldn't be
The tree is covered my the dome-like sky
And sat on by countless birds
It is home to many insects
And food for vegetarian herds
It is known as a shady place for us to lay
And by gusts of wind is blown around
Is pecked and pecked by pecking peckers
And occasionally peed on by a hound
It's day can be eventful
And seems pretty interesting to me
So I won't find a trees life lonely of boring
For it cannot be
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
Vitamin D. Prenatal vitamins. Gauze. Paper-tape. Pregnancy tests. Ghirardelli square wrappers. Anti-septic. Band-aids. Small strips of paper towels. Anti-biotic wound care. Disposable masks.
My nerves are showing up in the cracking of my skin, in my eyebrows, between my eyes, and down my nose.
My hair's growth is stunted by my sporadic picking at the ends.
Now is not a good time. Now is the only time. Now is the worst time. Now is the best time.
Feb 5, 2021
Feb 5, 2021 at 10:50 PM UTC