a germ has infected
the Hello Poetry site
it is much worse
than a mosquito's bite

fast spreading
is its very nasty spores
in the layers of dermis
one sees its grubby paws

quarantining the place
is a massive task
as the germ has escaped
from its insecure flask

precautions must be taken
by all members here
remember to pop on
your safety gear

you'll all be wanting
to be informed of scourge
which at this site
has been having a splurge

the plagiarizing bug
is omnipresent be forewarned
and those who've been at it
should be well scorned

Barton D Smock Nov 2014

the room is no secret.  my native tongue is the blade of a found knife.  in the tackle-box my father left me are all the parts I need for a dove.  I am trying to make blood.  my father had a robotic arm nothing could land on.  I have for an apron an infant.  some of the room is getting on my face.  some of my face on my hands.

Dark Fjord Nov 2016

from your many portraits
any kind will do,
and from those with such
a smile is shattering

we continue looking in...
to find what you are
holding onto and drawing
such a thing, as you
and we, are hidden.

fight for right
Temporal Fugue Sep 2016

The  Antiseptic Baby and the Prophylactic Pup
Were playing in the garden when the Bunny gamboled up
They looked upon the creature with a loathing undisguised
It wasn't disinfected and it wasn't sterilized

They said it was a microbe and a hotbed of disease      
They steamed it in a vapor of a thousand-odd degrees
They froze it in a freezer that was cold as banished hope
And washed it in permanganate with carbolated soap

In sulphurated hydrogen they steeped its wiggly ears
They trimmed its frisky whiskers with a pair of hard-boiled shears  
They donned their rubber mittens and they took it by the hand
And elected it a member of the fumigated band

There's not a micro-coccus in the garden where they play
They bathe in pure iodoform a dozen times a day
And each imbibes his rations from a hygienic cup
The Bunny and the Baby and the Prophylactic Pup

One of my all time favs :D by Arthur Guiterman
Maggie Emmett Aug 2015

Lady Macbeth washed her hands
cleaner than Pontius Pilate
with a new improved, bio-enzyme
oxy-bursting, 99.9% germ-scouring
recommended by dermato-logists
scented with rose attar
oils from Arabia
and spermaceti soothing
unguents from long dead whales.

She’s going to the nail bar
for a manicure and application
of semi-permanent, diamond-
tipped, acrylic base-coated
in red blood enamel.

She’ll scratch
and etch rich tattoos
on her husband’s back
with every orgasm, he will shudder
with pain and delight
He’ll soon forget long, dark nights
bewitched by ghosts and ambition.

© M.L. Emmett

Alternate views of Literature
Melodie Fowles Sep 2017

I don't think I ever wrote anything that scary
But just because you happened to dare me

I'll weave a tale of fear and dread
A story so vile it'll stop your heart dead

Deep in the night when you're asleep in bed
An creature most foul enters your head

He slits open your papery eardrums with his claws
And sneaks on through without even a pause

He runs his sharp nails along your tympanic cavity
And blood rains down as he licks at it absently

A slit he cuts in your middle temporal artery
Then he slides on in like a thief on a robbery

Riding the current on twists and turns
On the crimson tide he is now a foreign germ

When he reaches his prefered destination
It is here he will wreak his final devastation

Behind your eye he works his claws and drills your bone
Until he hits his mark and lets out a gleeful moan

From his mouth comes a proboscis long and sleek
Then out it's tip a rancid fluid it does leek

Turning your eyeball into slimy mush
He sucks up the fluid in one long gush

Then he squeezes through the hole that he made
And in the eyes remains is where he lays

When he wakes it's through your eyelid he tears
His furtive scrambling's on your face does pierce

As you wake up and the pain you can feel
Screams of terror as to your mother you appeal

The blood streaming slowly down your face
Is acidic and burning as it leaves a furrowed trace

Looking into the mirror in shock and dismay
You realise in horror that in your eye eggs have been laid.

emma d Oct 2016

i want to eradicate you.
i don't want to feel your pressing presence anymore.
i'm so tired of having to force my thoughts elsewhere every moment of everyday.
it's not fair.
how did this happen.
how did i fall so hard for yellow jeans and an awkward humor.
why did this boy be someone who wouldn't ever see me in the enchanting light which was the only one ever shined on him by me.
i never said a bad thing about him.
never doubted him.
didn't know him.
i don't know him.
he doesn't and never did know me.
we aren't friends.
not acquaintances.
not a mutual companion.
we simply "aren't."
we simply "weren't."
doesn't matter all the hope i and my friends fed me.
there wasn't any ever to give or take.
only abstract ideas to help my heart and brain to cope with this problem.
yes. problem.

All I want for Christmas
is some food to eat.
Oh what a treat
to have some meat.

All I want for Christmas
is clean water to drink,
stuff that doesn't stink,
that would be cool I think.

All I want for Christmas
is the bombs to stop,
no more to drop.
That would be the top.

All I want for Christmas
is for our food to grow,
the plants we sow
now that would be a show.

All I want for Christmas
is to be free to learn.
Not to be a germ
because I want to learn.

All I want for Christmas
is some medication.
and some dedication
from the United Nation.

All I want for Christmas
is to grow up strong.
Am I so wrong
wanting to belong.

All I want for Christmas
is some equal rights
and somewhere to sleep
through the coldest nights.

All I want for Christmas
is to earn a crust.
With employers
that we can really trust.

All I want for Christmas
is a chance at life
for a man and wife
not to live in strife.

All I want for Christmas
is oh so far away
and on this day
this is what I pray.

12th Nov 2014
Danielle Rose Dec 2012

I watch him as he's treated like a germ
behind his eyes there are whimpers
A secret held
for no one should know
because once its revealed
they treat him like a bastard
My heart cries out and yearns
to console
to show him acceptance
as he struggles to do so
Death's cold breath raising hairs on his neck
At seventeen he faces this foe
Lost in a world that holds too many
Curse all of them
Curse his darkest taunting hours
Curse the creators of this Reaper
and when they walk in the fires
crying out
I hope the devil relishes every moment


Fame is the one that does not stay—
Its occupant must die
Or out of sight of estimate
Ascend incessantly—
Or be that most insolvent thing
A Lightning in the Germ—
Electrical the embryo
But we demand the Flame

WHERE suns chase suns in rhythmic dance,
Where seeds are springing from the dust,
Where mind sways mind with spirit-glance,
High court is held, and law is just.

No hill alone, a sovereign bar;
Through space the fiery sparks are whirled
That draw and cling, and shape a star, -
That burn and cool, and form a world

Whose hidden forces hear a voice
That leads them by a perfect plan:
'Obey,' it cries, 'with steadfast choice,
Law shall complete what law began.

'Refuse, - behold the broken arc,
The sky of all its stars despoiled;
The new germ smothered in the dark,
The snow-pure soul with sin assailed.'

The voice still saith, 'While atoms weave
Both world and soul for utmost joy,
Who sins must suffer, - no reprieve;
The law that quickens must destroy.'


The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants—
At Evening, it is not—
At Morning, in a Truffled Hut
It stop upon a Spot

As if it tarried always
And yet its whole Career
Is shorter than a Snake’s Delay
And fleeter than a Tare—

’Tis Vegetation’s Juggler—
The Germ of Alibi—
Doth like a Bubble antedate
And like a Bubble, hie—

I feel as if the Grass was pleased
To have it intermit—
This surreptitious scion
Of Summer’s circumspect.

Had Nature any supple Face
Or could she one contemn—
Had Nature an Apostate—
That Mushroom—it is Him!

Steven Fried Sep 2013

Bowling sucks.
Stepping in and smelling fresh diarrhea and cigarettes
Slide your fingers into the heels of over worn shoes
Then your feet- someone has been here before, hundreds of people have
sit in the solid plastic swivel
step up to the dead rack and pick up a germ infested, god-forsaken ball
bowl terribly and pull your glute
Ten frames.

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