"fertilization" poems
By: Cedric McClester
Despite some misconceptions
And attacks
Endure for centuries
By us blacks
Let me lay down
Some unknown facts
How ‘bout we start with
Henrietta Lacks
For most of us
After our death
Other than memories
What else is left?
For our survivors
The bereft
Yet her cells live on
It’s a matter of theft
From Henrietta’s
Cancerous cells
A bold idea
Suddenly jells
Spawning cures for cancer
As her biographer tells
And in vitro fertilization
Other things as well
Science took complete advantage
Of her cells
Which they still manage
Though she died of cervical cancer
Her cells provided them
With the answer
To scientific mystery
Check out her cells history
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017. All rights reserved.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 12:25 PM UTC
Anne crutched her way
over the grass
from the nursing home
to the white seats on the lawn
and sat down
in one of the chairs
and threw her crutches
to the ground beside her
I sat in a chair
next to her
she had on a blue skirt
and white blouse
her one leg stuck out
from the end
of her skirt
the other kids played
on the swings and slide
or walked around
avoiding being
near Anne
I wonder
if the nuns have periods?
She said suddenly
I don't know
I said
might explain
their crabbiness some days
she said
I nodded my head
unsure of the topic
periods of what?
I asked
she looked at me
sternly for a moment
you don't know?
I shook my head
gazing at her
it's ************
in real terms
she said
none the wiser
I looked at her
hair dark
and almost shiny
where she’d
brushed it so much
do you know that?
no not heard of it
I said
she sighed
and looked at me deeply
do your parents tell
you nothing?
not about
************ anyway
I said
my old man told me
about the Plague of London
in 1665
and rats and stuff
**** the Plague of 1665
she said
this is real stuff
it may come handy
one day to know
I doubted it
but said nothing
I looked back
at the nursing home
for rescue
do you know anything
about the female cycle?
She said
my friend's sister's cycle
didn't have a cross bar
I said
remembering Jim's sister
and the bicycle
I sometimes rode
no no Kid
not that kind of cycle
her body cycle
I noticed as she moved
on the chair
her leg stump
became visible
when a female
gets to a certain age
her body gets prepared
to put an egg
in a place in her body
ready to be fertilized
ok?
I saw the stump clearly
it looked like the end
of a plump elbow
Kid do you hear
what I am saying?
Yes
I said
good
now if the egg
doesn't get fertilized
by a certain time
her body gets rid of it
in a cycle
and she bleeds
the whole package out
right?
It didn’t sound too good
but I nodded
what kind of egg?
I asked
what do you mean
what kind of egg?
A ****** human egg
what do you think
a ****** hens' egg?
She sighed deeply
and I wondered where
she bought her one shoe
how old are you Kid?
10 nearly 11 years old
I replied
studying her black shoe
and wondering
what she did
with the other shoe
what's fertilization?
I asked
looking up at her
sitting in the chair
her eyes focused on me
go ask the nuns
they'll know
she said snappily
ok
I said
I will
she reached for her crutches
and said
right Kid
let's go to the beach
out of the eyes
of the *******
and their reach
and so I walked
beside her
out the back gate
and onto the path
that led
to the sand and sea
blue skies
white clouds
seagulls
and Anne and me.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 2:11 AM UTC
no emotionally ecstatic experience compares
to the seminal instance
whence spermatozoa
(from profuse *********** beget
the miraculous propensity
to procreate despite the steep odds
female fertility fosters potential impregnation
fusing the hereditary debt
of feral, fiery, fomenting friskiness
fueling fancy free footloose fornication
prior to seminal fertilization union
sans ova doth induce fret
full ness in tandem with
diametrically opposed exultant sensations
(biologically, embryonically, microscopically,
et cetera) seismic shocks inject
when deliberate intent arises to disregard
applying prophylactics choice
plying reproductive roulette let
which analogous fruitful uterine plain
bastes the "cooking" egg omelette
which impregnation upends cessation of "self"
first and foremost asper desire to breed
wrenching role of "me" as operative
of webbed world de jure upon
consummating that most miraculous deed
necessitating yet for the fecund female relief
from messy menstrual cycle
she becomes temporarily freed
that perhaps a novitiate (or even a gal practiced
in the euphoric family, she instinctually
abides prenatal signals that heed
without feeling debased, harangued, lectured
pedagogical, polemical, puritanical, et cetera blast
assessing copulation enjoyed gloriously,
ineluctably, kinesthetically
lectured by elder, especially cast
in thee reel life drama, that nine months
til offspring utters initial whimper
elapses exceptionally fast
emitting a radiant golden halo wishing
to bottle confluence of hormonal secretions last
ideally fully awake to the birthing process,
when juiced the first stage of maternity past
cuz every moment thee inconsolably
(perhaps colicky infant)
gets first dibs to suckle,
which round the clock nursing
consumes moments many vast.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 11:04 PM UTC
Not even kidding.
I have been in the throes
of a sort of mid-life crisis,
because I can't have
any more babies.
I ******* LOVE BABIES
My best friend is pregnant
right now. Soooo pregnant.
It's ******* adorable.
And I, I am unable to have
ANY MORE BABIES.
BUT I LOVE BABIES.
No **** you guys,
I really like to have babies.
I am *******
GOOD AT HAVING AWESOME BABIES.
My ****** was like
baby ******* paradise.
And I just had
a miniature midlife crisis
over the fact that
I had to use the word
"was" right there.
If I still had that ******
I would be forced
to use multiple layers
of protection
to ward off fertilization, and
MORE BABIES.
I LOVE BABIES.
I can gestate like a ************
Oh wait, maybe
more like a ****** mother,
YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
******* BABIES!
And when I give birth,
I do it kamikaze style,
with only a couple minutes
notice for the attending physician.
BLINKED? OH NO, SORRY
DR. ************
YOU ******* MISSED IT!
Back when I had a ******
like last year,
I was fertile
like a thing that is incredibly fertile.
You had to put an army
between me and my ******
or some **** would go on
and I would be all,
oh! A new kid!
That's inconvenient!
But man,
you know,
you birth a child,
it's insanely difficult
on a level incomprehensible
to anyone who hasn't done it,
you work through it.
And then ******* hell,
you're the mother
of 3 teenagers
and your very productive
****** is all
**** YOU, SERIOUSLY?
And you put it out of
your misery, and then,
a few months later,
you think
it would be nice to have another baby.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
RNA or DNA polymerase, an enzyme, protein, attracted to
promoter molecules in the polypeptide chain causing a zipper
motion and transcription of the code, a duplication of codons,
introns and exons, and so it goes, sharing and unsharing electrons.
These attractions and repulsions, coming near and going far
in nanounits or light years, fail to explain things permanently
but make possible the technology to live long and well, with
personality.
It is a form of governance, the governance of elements, elements are
now
apparently our gods. Learn all you can about their laws, their names,
their needs, read their poems. Only the mentally unusually sound
would,
given this knowledge, agree to the process of mitosis and fertilization.
However,
organisms go round then senseless via involuntary respiration.
Therefore, Pilot Oh Pilot Me.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 10:56 AM UTC
Oh, you seed of mankind.
You who reside in the same Coloured white *****
You carry the sex-determining chromosome.
Before union with female egg, human colour was same.
After fertilization, emerged different coloured humans.
Oh melanin, you who determine our skin colour.
You went as far as differentiating our hair colour.
What have you done?
Are you to blame for racial discrimination?
Maybe blame theory of evolution.
Oh no I blame you mankind.
God gave men brains of a kind.
The kind, that knows wrong from right.
In the image of God, mankind was created.
Colour was not restricted.
I urge mankind across all racial groups.
A plead to all *** groups.
There’s more to what you see in the mirror.
It was microscopically a seed within white *****
We might differ racially, men and women.
We came from same coloured seed.
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC
09/09/10 13.26
Just eaten the last of your figs x
End
There is just so much to know about the fig.
Andre Gidé, D.H.Lawrence,
Gabriela Mistral
Poets all
Have tried
To decode
Its secret enclosed form.
*Since nothing escapes
the smell becomes succulence and taste.
A blossom without beauty, yet a fruit of delights...*
A year ago
When I brought autumn to your table
I tried to explain
The fig’s ****** nature . . .
and failed.
I was too shy
And mumbled something about
Its gynaecological aspect.
Now I know you better
And your hand has cupped
My testicles
Can you not
Appreciate the similarity?
The size and shape is
. . . similar
It seems male
This secretive fruit
But when you come to know it better,
You’ll agree with Catullus,
It is female.
Oh fig, fruit of female mystery where everything happens invisible flowering and fertilization,and fruiting in the inwardsness of your you that eye will never see till its finished and you’re over-ripe and you burst to give up your ghost.
Yesterday
(After we had eaten figs
From the blue bowl
Bathing in the golden light
Of your September garden)
I felt that ripe and secret cleft
Open to my ***** touch
And kiss and kiss
Kiss and kiss
Touch me: it is softness of good satin, and when you open me, what an unexpected rose! Poets have not known the colour of night, nor the figs of Palestine. We are both the most ancient blue, a passionate blue, richly concentrating itself because of its ardor. I spill my pressed flowers into your hand. I create a deaf meadow for your pleasure. I shower you with the meadow's bouquet until covering your feet.
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 2:34 AM UTC
I am a ghost among ghosts
in an inescapable town filled
with judgmental eyes peering
around sharp corners and
through closed doors. My
pumping pink ventricles
are turning white
with every passing second
that I spend waiting for something
with life to cross my trail.
Unfortunately, holding my breath
for things that
never come has become a
***** habit that I can't rid of,
and my lungs are brittle from the
compressed breaths and
toxic cigarette smoke I subject them
to. They say it takes
twenty one days to stop habits,
but an hour doesn't pass without
me thinking of all the reasons
I am unwillingly invisible and
how you made me this way. The
only thing that acknowledges my
form are clocks,
and they only remind me,
with every tick and grind,
that I am one unit of time closer to
being another collection of
dismembered bones
covered in dirt with a
chunk of stone telling others
my label and a saying that tries to
put meaning in something
that was never going to matter.
Many say that I am being
morbidly negative about my
existence, and maybe their right,
but on good days I like to think that
maybe i was meant to be
good fertilization for lovely flowers
that a senseless boy will pick for a
troubled girl someday.
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
Earth is aligned with Galactic Core
Direct lines are open as never before.
***Creating the home
we've been longing for ?***
From Source this our essence
transplanted in hopes
we'd transcend expectation
revitalization
cross fertilization
***Re-image the past
to create a new future
with great hearts afire
the challenge is on.***
Earth is aligned with Galactic Core
Direct lines are open as never before.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 10:34 PM UTC
Though the date may be late… and
Those type things don’t happen anymore…MUCH…dare I say
Those type things don’t happen MUCH anymore… (yes I dared)
It is nevertheless ingrained…
No matter the age or the date
However young or old…
It is in our DNA… and
Our DNA does not forget
Will not allow us
As other cultures will
To easily enjoy
The remote loveliness… and
Maniacally flowering greenery… and
Beauteous quiet of this
Southern forest… this
Confederate lake…
Without our spirits
Sadly counting
The cumulative number of
Hundreds of years of
Fertilization by
Black Men’s bones…
But like my father and his father before him
We show up anyway…
Albeit somewhat uneasily…
While the native good-ole-boys
Stand stock still and stare
Actin’ like they never seen one’a us before… and
Though we arrived obviously prepared for what we came to do
They still stare… as if
wondering what we could possibly be doing here…
or maybe… how dare we enjoy God’s green earth with our brown selfs…
And my beautiful Black Man
with ease of motion
Audaciously pays the Black Tax
(the quoted price over what the sign says the price is)
As I bait my line in defiance
Albeit somewhat uneasily… and
Cast it out into this confederate lake
And my beautiful Black Man
Also stands… broad shoulders back… and
Pointedly does not acknowledge the presence of the natives
As they stand stock still and stare
But it is there
(We will NOT be afraid… and we will NOT go away)
Unspoken between us... But
Always in the back of the mind…
The recesses of the consciousness…
Preparation for this day… and the worst that it can bring…
Is ingrained…
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 3:15 PM UTC
the titles
lay about,
filed in no order,
some a mere notion,
some a finished few,
most a line or two
that
ask fervently for
birth, commencement,
not understanding
that finished,
need not mean ripened,
ready for release, consumption
some indeed,
awful layabouts
in no hurry
to complete their
appointed rounds,
or make their
unique composed sounds
spoke out loud
content to be,
yet-to-be
but already
wanting the entitlements
of being
just a title entitled,
yet even without shape,
content to be
content-less,
poem teenagers, I guess,
they want it all
all awaiting wondering
they understand how humans are born
but see no parallel to gestation literate
they see
infiltration, fertilization, conception,
automated, tracked and formulaic
the process similar,
but the exact moment of birth
knows no schedule,
some burst, some dormant,
aging beyond aged,
struggling to believe that
those who wait also serve
if you were to sit beside
this troubled man,
whose clouds need poking by,
perhaps,
your fresh fingers
could rocket them into
partum warmth fluid bathed,
then they would belong
to you
for you
were the trigger,
that fired them into existence
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 9:48 AM UTC
God waited for Abraham's arm to be actually starting down, the biceps fully tensed.
Nothing short would do; in extremity, we learn what's true.
With a good job, a good marriage, a fine son, I had everything one could expect.
And yet there was a lingering dissatisfaction; a malaise.
It seemed, deep down, that I didn't really feel or believe in anything.
.........
On Saturday morning, August 11, 1990, my three-year-old son and I rounded the corner at the south end of the block where we live. We were out for a walk. (He had been born through in-vitro fertilization, everything else had failed -- including several previous in-vitro attempts.) He was riding his tricycle -- it's amazing how fast a three-year-old can go on a tricycle with big wheels. . . . The house next to the corner had tall bushes growing right out to the sidewalk. As we passed the house, my son speeded up. My attention was diverted to men working across the street trimming trees. Their chainsaws drowned out the sound of a car backing out of the driveway next to the house with the bushes. The car was moving slowly and I can see in the slowest of slow motion -- I screamed, but I'm not sure just when (there's no sound track to this movie) -- the car backing into the left handlebar of the tricycle, tilting it over to the right, my son breaking his fall with his right hand. (As low to the ground as he and the tricycle were, they could not be visible in the driver's rearview mirror at this point.) And, then, the car stopping. Did the car stop because of my scream? Or had the old man driving the car seen my son at the last second before he disappeared behind the car?
.......
I learned instantly with the terrible weight of that tire inches from my son's head, that I wanted with a giant, horrible wanting for this boy to grow up healthy and to have children of his own who would, in turn, have children of their own, and that having my wife hate me for losing him would be unbearable.
All the unfairnesses I had suffered in life -- ALL of them --
instantly became meaningless. Everything was clear.
This is what I wanted; this is what I believed.
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 2:14 PM UTC
no emotionally ecstatic experience compares
to the seminal instance
whence spermatozoa
(from profuse *********** beget
the miraculous propensity
to procreate despite the steep odds
female fertility fosters potential impregnation
fusing the hereditary debt
of feral, fiery, fomenting friskiness
fueling fancy free footloose fornication
prior to seminal fertilization union
sans ova doth induce fret
full ness in tandem with
diametrically opposed exultant sensations
(biologically, embryonically, microscopically,
et cetera) seismic shocks inject
when deliberate intent arises to disregard
applying prophylactics choice
plying reproductive roulette let
which analogous fruitful uterine plain
bastes the "cooking" egg omelette
which impregnation upends cessation of "self"
first and foremost asper desire to breed
wrenching role of "me" as operative
of webbed world de jure upon
consummating that most miraculous deed
necessitating yet for the fecund female relief
from messy menstrual cycle
she becomes temporarily freed
that perhaps a novitiate (or even a gal practiced
in the euphoric family, she instinctually
abides prenatal signals that heed
without feeling debased, harangued, lectured
pedagogical, polemical, puritanical, et cetera blast
assessing copulation enjoyed gloriously,
ineluctably, kinesthetically
lectured by elder, especially cast
in thee reel life drama, that nine months
til offspring utters initial whimper
elapses exceptionally fast
emitting a radiant golden halo wishing
to bottle confluence of hormonal secretions last
ideally fully awake to the birthing process,
when juiced the first stage of maternity past
cuz every moment thee inconsolably
(perhaps colicky infant)
gets first dibs to suckle,
which round the clock nursing
consumes moments many vast.
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 1:11 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Despite some misconceptions
And attacks
Endure for centuries
By us blacks
Let me lay down
Some unknown facts
How ‘bout we start with
Henrietta Lacks
For most of us
After our death
Other than memories
What else is left?
For our survivors
The bereft
Yet her cells live on
It’s a matter of theft
From Henrietta’s
Cancerous cells
A bold idea
Suddenly jells
Spawning cures for cancer
As her biographer tells
And in vitro fertilization
Other things as well
Science took complete advantage
Of her cells
Which they still manage
Though she died of cervical cancer
Her cells provided them
With the answer
To scientific mystery
Check out her cells history
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017. All rights reserved.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 12:19 PM UTC
Gretchen Rossi knew that she wanted to marry Slade Smiley since the beginning of their relationship. They got together shortly after Rossi lost her fiance to cancer, and Slade has been her rock throughout the years. Gretchen was concerned about getting married too quickly, mostly because of his child support issues. But it sounds like he is more than ready to marry her.
Gretchen Rossi has already cancelled their wedding once. The two had planned the wedding and set the date, but they had to cancel because the date conflicted with previously created events. Rossi could not get married on her chosen date, as many of her friends and family members could not make it out. The two have been engaged for two years.
According to a new Radar Online report, Gretchen Rossi is now canceling her wedding again — and some people believe that these two will never get married. As it turns out, the wedding cancellation has nothing to do with their feelings for one another. Apparently, it is just tough for them to find a date that truly works for everyone.
“They are definitely still getting married and are very much in love,” a source says, adding, “Why else would they do Marriage Bootcamp together? The reason that the wedding has been postponed so many times is not because they have doubts that they are meant to be together, but because they are both working on a lot of projects right now.”
It is no secret that Gretchen Rossi is working hard on her business, Gretchen Christine, and she often posts pictures on Instagram of her work. She has never been in a rush to get married and have a child, and it sounds like she is being reasonable in her planning.
“Gretchen just launched a purse line and she and Slade are pitching several different ideas to various networks for projects that have them both on camera and behind-the-scenes,” a source has revealed, adding, “Lately they have been getting a lot of pressure from their close friends to do it already. Gretchen cannot wait to be Slade’s wife and, when the time is right, they will have their huge lavish wedding. This is what they both want.”
Last year, Rossi opened up about her struggles to have a child. Gretchen shared her journey on The Doctors last year, but she revealed that they had not been successful.
“I always knew that I wanted to be a mother,” Gretchen has previously said, adding, “Slade knew that it was something that was very important to me, but he also told me he had a vasectomy. We just decided that in-vitro fertilization was a much quicker way to make things happen for us.”
What do you think of Gretchen Rossi delaying her wedding yet again?
read more:www.marieaustralia.com/cheap-formal-dresses
www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 3:29 AM UTC
drip fed,
being fed on drips and dregs and how many campylobacter in six dairy fresh eggs?
raw meat, diced, sliced or crushed and
pushed through,
acts by the government **** you, nothing's your own,
go it alone but the eye in the sky, on the wall, up your **** always follows you,
what's the world coming to and how many bacilli in the ideas that you see in your minds eye?
fed up to the back teeth? rip them out with the pliers and you get no relief, not from the welfare and you share and share and only when no one is there do you get your sweeties and treats from the N.H.S.
We live in the cesspit and they smell of roses which in turn look like dog **** and we're still being drip led by the rich and the well fed and it's doing my head in.
Skeletal?
I want to go back to pre-foetal
before fertilization was an i or the dot on some distant horizon,
untapped as potential and potentially dangerous.
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 7:05 AM UTC
Tuesday's picked it out, the three year old envelope
I had dried out for a scrapbook
quite close to rose petals in pattern and fabric.
Symphony number four sings,
he thought I was a little girl when we met but I have
felt like a *****
since birth; the difference is that my privates
came upon a sunset at age eleven
now it is unacceptable to wiggle my *** at every man I see.
God, to have my body change
with the sky. I was supposed to run to my earth-mother
tell her of how I altered the cycle of the moon
but I've waited until now,
month thirty-six of burying his fertilization in myself.
Compared to him, I am so young that
I am dead.
Any year after 1990 has been negated
letters have been written, rewrittten, unwritten in black
marsh pen and the tide of it
is filling high in his eyes. For some time now,
my hands have been on every universe
redrafting what is already supposed in my bright, red ink.
I have been a woman for seven years
and a ***** for seventeen, but
my daybook just reaches December 2010; I took a man's
thorn so all this blood would begin to matter.
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 5:34 PM UTC
I want to be the forest and You to be the fire. I want every part of me to be completely consumed, no matter how large or how small it appears to be. I want to be a medium, through which You can be manifest. I want the combination of my substance and your catalysis to create a beautiful, powerful expression. I want our interaction to be unavoidably apparent to anything that can see, smell, taste, hear, or feel. I want all of my inhibitions to become meaningless in the face of your awesomeness. I want to be unable to become distracted from, or bored of You; because we are one inseparable entity.
Even when everything about me that I used to think made me who I was has been reduced to ash, I know that it will only enrich the parts of me which remain. The decomposition of the unnecessary will lead to the fertilization of the valuable. For a time, where a seemingly great forest once stood, there will be nothing but a flat field; but the result will be an amazing collection of new life to take its place. Where the forest seemed to be stagnant and immovable, instead there will be a growing, changing, expanding and thriving ecosystem. I will be what I was meant to be, but the glory of the creation will be yours for you were the inspiration and the force behind the result.
This is the kind of love I want to experience. The kind of love I want to be able to show others. Undoubting, fearless, passionate, enduring, complete.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC
The blood of Christ
Constantly dripping over my life
Listen hear I am blood bought
My King took the punishment for sin...rugged and uncut
Blood sport
No mark of the beast
I'm talking the mark of the free
Blood of the lamb yes his blood marks his sheep..
Death pass by my front door
**** the Egyptian first born
Jesus beat from limb to limb..the sight of flesh scorned
Oh my Lord your beard it was tore
Off ..
Bless it savior you fulfill the laws
Kings blood only type that could pay the cost
And save the lost
I bang blood with no gang affiliations
Striped naked sin causes humiliation
One death saved humanity every civilization
You see sin stales life sterilization
Kings blood brings life fertilization
Not talking zombies, when the dead start raising
I meant rising.
Followers of King Jesus we behind him
Like the man from Verizon
The world denied him and still denies him
Died once and rose into forever ..the key to our eternal survival
People open the Bible
Satan's no rival
Hells hot souls drenched in sweat no Cabo
I stand as a man ...A witness
Anointed in Kings blood
White and Red blood cells..healing, health, love
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
For the sake of betterness or quickness,
The life is all about developing own customized extensions or plugins .
Better sitted pees
Better stand-up pees
Better view
Better trails
Better quality
Better quantity
Better pace
Better Understanding
Better likability
Better knowledge
Better green
Better pleasure
Better writes
Better disorientation
Better philosophy
Better stimulation
Better cycles
Better science
Better calculus
Better reads
Better rain
Better gulps
Better art
Better calendars
Better wilderness
Better awakening
Better flirting
Better cooking
Better carpentry
Better tactics
Better silence
Better touch
Better light
Better technology
Better sunsign
Better blue ticks
Better mixing
Better chaos
Better mutation
Better round-tables
Better deals
Better excretion
Better burial
Better fertilization
Better moon
Better sun
Better fun
And It rhymed , thereby set for n number possibilities.
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 6:06 AM UTC
You
you are a contradiction of all things
an immense tropical storm majestically consuming all islands in your path
yet with all your strength, you sputter upon the main land
A destructive flame, preaching your ways to the forest
leaving behind naught but fertilization.
A maneuver that may breath life into you, saving your soul
and destroy your body
The object that defies gravity, spurning numbers and probability
in the most graceful fashion
Everything that was once oblivion, is now a beholder of all things
You are a contradiction, a collection of nothings and theories
A physic with the will to be or not
science to believe or a magic to perceive
Take pride in its discomfort,
it is the minds final reprieve.
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 4:19 AM UTC
amidst cavorting delightfully, enjoying thorough
frolicking gingerly, foreign hick hating slo
hip-hopping insouciantly sustaining row
biological status quo
kvetching lamely moreso mother became pro
naturally physically rumbling,
heard all the way in Oslo
supposedly twerking, undulating vivaciously
wantonly x2c wisely yielded – nada no
zona pellucida anchored byte size ******
potent embryonic fetal moe
newlweds nocturnal merriment
moma's ****** marked march 1959
lovingly joyusly, insemination happened ha low
bullseye clenched diploid fertilization
guaranteed germinating heiress
while squaqking lichen Apache at Diablo
ma late mother did should know
upon awakening upon tautly stretched exertion
during dilating ****** which jiggled like jello
three score orbitz round el sol, warmed cockles
and muscled away brutally cold degrees
tab billed an igloo,
or circa six decades
drafted exuberant ho...ho...ho...
cuz, i.e. thencee at 362nd day
baby in belly did fully grow
December first nineteen fifty seven
sanctioned newly minted papa
to sing a capella for he's a jolly good fellow
quintessential nascent
kickstarter heady everflow
though wintry dark,
a “hi” beam illuminated
newborn girl with dayglow
sans, mechanical engine ear
papa (an honorably discharged army vet)
all spit and shine groom,
who wed a bride somewhat callow
first time parents with giddiness did saul fully bellow
Boyce and Harriet Harriet countenance
twas (like an elf on Christmas eve) all aglow.
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Dear Sis – I knew not what else to do
thus, this poem crafted fur ewe
a doe ting maternal gal – whose time on Earth flew
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 1:09 AM UTC
Okay honey
Let's spell pollinate
With a bit of math
Anther + stigma = fertilization
Let's pollinate for a spell
Under the quilt
Then over the river
And through the woods
Without any cover we go
Making babies in summertime
May we reap
What we sow
Jan 4, 2020
Jan 4, 2020 at 8:55 PM UTC
I hear the whimpering
As the factions call us home
You too keep true to math
As you fall into your number
Begging to be apart of the equation
Fertilization
You exist
It’s everything you ever wanted
Please stop crying
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 10:10 PM UTC
If putsch comes to shove,
aye ain't no doggone fraidy cat
nor chicken little
fearing coup d'état,
yours truly simply
risk averse, and more exact,
he stays sequestered
within these four walls,
cuz tis safest inside this flat
always... mein kampf,
I remember when fertilization begat
after nine months in utero...
ah dat womb dar full habitat
i.e. ****** cradled humanity, whereat
teeming bajillions primates
peopling planet Earth
couples made lovey dovey after spat
(which species among
other flotsam and jetsam),
got shot out (think) analogous
muzzle loaded gat
excellent marksman aimed
then squirted packed heat hot
as summer temperature
gets within Gujarat
recorded courtesy, thee
oldest functioning thermostat,
albeit microcosmic primordial vat
testy sea men don
(May comb hairy
gah great again) conical hat.
I surmise proto humans
especially storied hall
(conjured in Peer Gynt
by Edvard Grieg
of mountain king)
trumpeted, tooted thwacked,
and announced presence
courtesy posterior primal mating call,
which vibrant cheekiness heard all
around the mulberry bush to Gaul
hmm... maybe e'en hot air
inspired Marc Chagall,
while sitting atop porcelain throne,
nonetheless scandalous
****** blasts methinks help explain fall
of Rome, whereby noxious
generated silent but deadly nauseating
noisome pall mall
felled friend and foe alike
analogous on minuscule
scale to Chernobyl
level 7 nuclear accident
also linkedin, when
Polar Vortex doth stall
across avast swath planet Earth
forcing quick thinkers to marshall,
what (mathers) matters
such as... antique pinball
machines worth a mint,
a ***** to install.
Nov 25, 2019
Nov 25, 2019 at 5:30 PM UTC