"hydrophobic" poems
The streets are clear, we're hydrophobic
Hoods propped by hats and socks pulled high;
The rain brings peace to the agoraphobic
Puddles form moats and clouds fill the sky.
Splash, droplets hit the window,
chauffeured by the gale outside.
Squint your eyes and flash back
boats tilt starboard, with the tide.
The captain shouts to the decks, paranoid
'Clear the decks and brace for impact'
Without turbulence we are disenfranchised
Boredom becomes us when we're boring.
Shake it off and stare at the dot to dot
the residual carving of water as it slides
Another droplet falls beside it, parallel
it aligns, growling thunder overhead.
Without stirring we are robotic workforces
Without awaking we are left inside
The constructs created for us, by corporate-
conglomerate elitist-psychopaths.
Two drops of water on the window
simmer red with burning anger.
Crash lightening sears the sky
Rage becomes you, girders melt.
The starry night undercurrent, flings
us backwards, never up, as democracies
which seek to serve sink into a sea of
stocks and shares, the wall street journal
sits atop the captains lobby, economies
were meant to tumble as the working classes
fumble for bread, men in suits gaggle
and toast to the millions they left for dead.
Resistance is futile, when eighty-five
of the richest suit owners sit on currency
that was meant for the three point five
billion who aren’t driven by gluttony.
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
we smile like sunflowers,
spitting our seeds through our teeth.
they taught high winds to swim across
glaciers onto my skin, backstroke,
trying to shiver down my spine.
Indian summers save my hydrophobic
structure from the flooding.
i like to drive recklessly under the
speed limit, leaving a sense of
significance tanned inside my lip.
today feels like Indian summer
and your sunflower leaves keep
me warm until the next northern
attack provokes, down my backbone,
where the shells are where we left
them
sink.
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 4:48 PM UTC
I'm a fish that's trying to fly
There's so much air out here, I feel like i'm drowning
I thought I knew my way around
But the water is just not the place to be
It's so hard to adapt in this hydrophobic sea
The water's boiling so there's no turing back
I just wish I had these wings which I lack
I wish I knew my way around
And that it weren't the sea to which I was bound
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 1:52 AM UTC
Icy tangs are all the early morning, budding its flower
The young mother born into the sonata of her own being
That seems so foreign to thick sheltered blood,
My adult notch in this Exquisite Rotation.
Humid skies are as spy glasses to the truth
So says the colossus with our sun for an eye;
She steps out of the illusion beautifully blue
Robed in silks of celestial gold;
The skin hangs taught over the most beautiful
Pair of collarbones you’ve ever seen
The pass of your previous life comes in sublime waves
Of crashing aether and all the souls flee with irreclaimable mirth
Before popping in the atmosphere like spit and wishes
And everyday is the day of rest, a pondering
Of avant-gardens where a savior once walked.
He and his church left the path of the geese
For, he hears not, the pass of prayer on their lips.
But, I do not blame them: their mouths are full
With the sky’s drawstrings, reinvigorated from their disuse,
They’ve no time for the good word.
My family of geese fly for the astral bodies’ abode above
Where the casual speak of poets, philosophers can be hears
Talking about their *** lives, talking about themselves
No longer galvanized by their own recreations.
And as I go to place this thing in the place of pain
Warm rushes in the shifting life-force, the green of
Exuberant joy hits our hydrophobic throats
And we exhale, watching it roll back as the geese fly overhead
With no mind or reason why.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 8:58 PM UTC
i am a whirlwind of rain on a hydrophobic world, an angel
of death scraping by like a vulture, picking at skin and bone
and leaving scratches on doors and blood puddles on floors
my blindness is as translucent as a jellyfish's sight, my mind
is shattered, and my memory is coming back slowly, piece by
brittle piece, and the emergency exits are sealed against me
so i travel in concentric circles trying to find a way out of this
labyrinth, only to catch the waters attention and grasp me by
the throat and gag me unconscious, only to see black afterward
i'm living each day through my mistakes, and making up for
it with cold revenge with haphazard patterns, abstract words,
and navigation through uncharted waters where i've drowned
not only everybody else, but myself, in this complete denial
- kra
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 11:57 PM UTC
i saw the shimmer on the sea
one that i have never seen
I had a heart of a thirteen
and it said "hey, i'll hug you"
so reckless and naive
so i threw myself in
despite being hydrophobic
flapping my arms and legs
mimicking how the victors in swimming do
i was close to drowning
the blues raged
over how i was hurting it
it expressed emotions quietly
but i was sure guilty
i climbed to the shore
but unable to forget
its serenity and colour
so i came back to it
and it enveloped me
this time not a hug
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
A striking increase in absorbance of DNA upon denaturation is known as the hyperchromic effect.
The two strands of DNA are bound together mainly by the stacking interactions, hydrogen bonds and hydrophobic effect between the complementary bases.
In their native state, the bases of DNA absorb light in the 260-nm wavelength region.
When the bases become unstacked, the wavelength of maximum absorbance does not change, but the amount absorbed increases by 37%.
A double stranded DNA strand dissociating to two single strands produces a sharp cooperative transition.
Oct 3, 2021
Oct 3, 2021 at 7:40 AM UTC
Red flashes and white
Black spots and no air
Fear of myself and fear of drowning
Time and experience are a snare
I am hydrophobic
So instead I love fire
A hatred and fear born for water
But fire and smoke guides me clear
I fear my own anger
I fear my own strength
I fear being helpless
More fears among my ranks
I fear giving up
I fear losing friends
I fear so many minor things
And the pain doesn't end
I hate all my mistakes
So in turn I hate myself
I guide it inward so that I can
Lend help to anyone else
I hate to hurt but I hurt myself
I still hate that I do this
But if I'm not hurting others
It must be good, if anger like mist
Clouds my mind rather than my vision
So that I envision terrible things
If no-one is there, it's aimed at me
So clear and vivid, unlike a dream
I picture the pain, or perhaps the death
And when I do, I'm short of breath
I talk to myself, oh maniac I am
But at least I can connect it to where it began
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 11:07 PM UTC
A tree sits in the middle of a forest,
Hydrophobic,
It fears the rain.
Its bark is coarse,
Its roots withered,
It has no leaves,
And its branches point down,
Toward the ground.
The tree does this by choice,
For it’s afraid of change,
And if not changing is the one thing it can control,
It’ll hold it to the end.
When the rain pours,
The tree refuses the water,
Spits it toward its fellow trees,
Whose leaves dance in the windy breeze.
They always saw the little tree as strange.
Why did it willingly starve itself?
What did it gain?
It always looked so sad,
All alone,
Yet this was the life that it chose.
As the little tree grew older,
It watched as its fellow trees grew tall,
And oh, so green.
Their changing leaves,
Their branches and berries,
That the birds would love to eat.
How it envied,
Oh, it envied.
It uprooted itself,
As its dying roots clung to life,
It walked all on its own,
To find another home.
It started to wonder if the rain was worthy of his fear,
Or if it was overthinking–again.
Was the future a mountain or a molehill?
Only time will tell.
How the little tree wished it could control every detail,
Save itself from suspense,
Always knowing what comes next.
Unfortunately,
Life doesn’t work that way,
A lesson the tree would have to learn,
And accept,
To find brighter days.
The tree planted itself in a garden,
Filled with flowers,
Of many hues,
Reds,
Greens,
Yellows,
And blues.
Even though the nearby birds,
Would chirp and coo,
It did little,
To ease the little tree’s
Lonely blues.
Yet as it gazed,
Amidst the pretty colors,
Of the flowers,
He thought of the fellow trees.
He wondered,
If this was the way life was meant to be.
After all,
These flowers would die come winter,
And grow again come spring,
And they would be just a goregous,
And marvelous,
The second time around.
Eureka!
Purpose and acceptance,
Finally found.
The little tree looked to the sky,
A thunderstorm was on its way.
He could hear the crackle of the lightning,
As a house was set unto a blaze.
The tree tightened down his roots,
He wouldn’t be afraid.
Perhaps if he believed,
He would be okay.
After all,
The other trees thrived off the rain,
It caused their leaves to grow,
And eased their decay.
Perhaps,
He was running from the wrong thing.
Perhaps,
His biggest villain wasn’t change.
Perhaps,
Life would be okay.
The rain came like a hurricane,
And the tree absorbed the water,
Having starved and thirsted for so long,
And as the sky cleared to the sunshine,
He heard the bird’s sweet songs.
His leaves grew majestically,
The berries tasted so sweet,
The birds who ate them,
Devoured even the seeds.
The tree felt fulfilled,
He had found his place,
And though he still feared the future,
And change,
He believed everything would be okay.
Mar 13, 2025
Mar 13, 2025 at 10:02 PM UTC
.
Foam at the mouth
And breath becomes shallow
For Water is mortar,
To the man of the cowl
Shall I'll spin you a tale
of the knight of great might and
Of he who fights evil and villains of fright
On ,one fateful eave much like most others
The captain of batnis
Found he and his druthers
So
Took to the sky
In seek of his prey
The usual crooks
He fights everyday
But this battle is solo
As he is alone
Robins got bird flue
And is roosting at home
So muster did he
Gotham's great goul
Saw a shuffle of poodles
In a battle most cruel
An easy resolve
For this billionaire fool
The champion of right
And Harvey dents tool
And funny for he
who takes to the air
Would fly to a roof
Of dogs in despair
For wise is it not
When signs are unread
That said
hasmat, caution
Or end up most dead
But
Never of him
For the cat ******* bat
never retreats From simple a spat
But caution was missed
With that I'll gotten ******
Fogged his good senses
And made him less a match
For the black knight had blue *****
And saw not ,
the plot hatch
Of the bird of Ill flight
And jester of king
Road roughshod around him
And traps did they spring
On landing he slipped
And did finally see
That he landed smack dab
At the.
C
D
And
C
And oh with his logic
His ego did ****
For did appear
A crazed, snarling mutt
With a maddening sneer
And unsnipped of nut
For Distemper the mentor for mangy the mutt
He has
no vaccine
And dogs always bite
And survival one bitten is so very slight
So the tables are set for the guano
Fueled duel
With mankind's best friend
That kills with his drool
Chapter 1 the bat and the hydrophobic hound
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 10:43 PM UTC
the city across the river is built
we're scant hydrophobic
watchers of a new end
anti-venom of love stories
flightless courageous birds
and after seasons
the river just won't dry
this is the song of the night
the unsung memories
a dynamic silence
forte towards the end
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 5:26 AM UTC
over 95% of the ocean has been undiscovered, and
i wonder if i'm the only one who is so curious to
see the unknown depths where sea creatures adapt
and confine to the dark, it is a wonder that they
have not had any second thoughts about the sunlight.
i wonder if i'm the only one who is so curious to get
into the minds of these creatures, who are so afraid
of the light as i am. maybe they're not afraid at all.
maybe they have grown accustomed to the darkness.
perhaps it's a way to hide and shelter from the predators
so the most vulnerable do not become the prey as i have.
i wonder if i was destined to be the sun and yourself
the ocean, the world's biggest juxtaposition. maybe i
wasn't careful with my high and mighty position up
there on cloud nine and abused it, because all i do is
reach for the safety of your ocean, and wish for the
calm waters to envelope the parts of me that just
leaves third degree burns and people rubbing aloe
vera onto their skin. when i reached down to grab you,
the waters in the ocean shifted vehemently, and the sea
animals concaved into the darkness of the waters i may
never get to touch. over 95% of the ocean hasn't been
discovered, and i know only 5% of what the ocean
has to offer. over time, you have become a close
relative to this metaphor. i've went from discovering
95% of your brain patterns to only 5%. i am merely a
whirlwind of rain in your hydrophobic world, and
all i want to do is be your umbrella even if the rain
is acidic and burns me the way i burn everyone
else and leave people rubbing aloe vera onto their
skin. to this day, i have navigated only 5% of your
uncharted waters, and some days i want to swim
further down and risk swimming in the same sea
with the sharks just to figure out the type of person
you are. that's what being friends with you now feels like.
- kra
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 4:29 PM UTC
Look, grand pa, that yoostbe a mega mall.
At the edge of paradise, just there, where those sunflowers,
and mustards are making little canyons for trickles
to form rills and eventually, streams to carry away
all that water can dissolve, though, if I
fret I can
wonder at where the asphalt pitch will be,
it being hydrophobic,
insoluble unless we get some more acid rain,
-- yeah, that might work
over time.
the tower in Babel was mortared with bitumen,
what did the destruction of that edifice of mud pollute?
Nevermind, all the empty malls shall make fine villages,
and where the parking lot was,
there will be a meadow of the sort seen where green
is given back
hope, wait… do you imagine
the earth can groan?
do green things hope? do they grow happy or are they
statelessly happening,
verily being the hypostatic form of
homeostasis in
the pursuit of life for life's sake, slightly weighted toward
happy state expecting
good, so for common sense,
we use the colors common to life's attractors
green means go
red is stop…
straight edges, where nothing grows,
those say stop, look and listen
?
we all know the warning signs, or do we get those in lessons
along the way,
along the way of course, I knew,
I was testing you.
once the course is mapped though, then we must learn the way,
before we may go outside and play,
that was different when I was a child, then
I thought readily as a child, with no need of grand kids
to remind me,
this is 2020, but some things never change.
Jul 4, 2020
Jul 4, 2020 at 11:15 PM UTC
compared me to
an
platypus
think she
just likes
toughing
them
last
three letters
she felt the word
hydrophobic tingling
on
an
count me in you poem
type
of
feel
she made me feel
as
an
mere
pebbles
in
an
vision
we turn
her into
an
older
pebbles
platypus
in
an
hydrophobic dream
screams miss hydness
?
...
..
.
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 9:35 AM UTC
Water born
Paper rip
Let the table tip
Time will pass
Matter
Mass
to life we ever grip
Fevered fury
Of the mind
And to the earth we bind
Ease of thought
And nothing sought
With nothing left to find
How of you to fester so
And Where of you to go
Mortal
Moral
Mailable
With seeds you cannot sow
So
Do let slip
The wasting fear
The darkness
And unknown
The vine
Has snaked and blossomed thus
With nowhere left to grow.
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 1:26 AM UTC
Life was already hard enough
Without you breathing down my neck.
You’re too close for comfort
And it makes me feel like I’m a bomb,
All wires and flashing lights.
You have hooked up explosives in my ribcage
And I’m ready to blow.
You feel like an anchor
Chained around my ankles.
You’re pulling me under.
No one told you I was hydrophobic.
When you embrace me
Your hands miss my waist and
Lock around my throat.
I can’t breathe with you standing at my door.
I didn’t want it to be this way
But you’ve forced your way in.
Like centipedes in the winter,
Like a butterfly tearing its way out of the cocoon.
You want this to be something beautiful
You want me to be more than a dream.
But I can’t let that happen.
I won’t let that happen.
I am thin wisps of smoke.
I am fog.
You can’t trap me in a jar.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC
Water born
Paper rip
Let the table tip
Time will pass
Matter
Mass
to life we ever grip
Fevered fury
Of the mind
And to the earth we bind
Ease of thought
And nothing sought
With nothing left to find
How of you to fester so
And Where of you to go
Mortal
Moral
Mailable
With seeds you cannot sow
So
Do let slip
The wasting fear
The darkness
And unknown
The vine
Has snaked and blossomed thus
With nowhere left to grow.
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 4:43 PM UTC
We met we smiled, we fell don't know if you remember... I remember the clouds were at war with the sun trying to stop him from burning like hell as you understand the scotch in December, but it wasn't that haze that made my heart burn for as soon as the ice in my soul was melted and the river of my passion started running again, I knew you were the bulb to be set at the front of my train and the warm orb with the Vitamin D for my sceptic wounds to turn into scar since my nomadic childhood had bruised me hard and torn me off the mass of attachment into a frigid island of desolation... As soon as I saw your teary eye twinkle like a star in the sky I knew I was on the right avenue even if I knew not my destination. In fact, I didn't need to know because you were someone I'd walk with as long as I lived and never want to rest. A wave that I'd surf to the dangerous crest even if I was a hydrophobic...a wave that swept me off my feet and totally changed my heartbeat...You found me confused and taught me which thread of emotion meant what. You found me too young and naive and taught me every little thing I know... Don't know if you remember but I remember the day we first hugged and you trembled in my arms, the peck in your neck... the evening walks to the golf course and our first kiss, it wasn't your first, but it was mine and it felt like your first or at least that's what you kept saying in two years. Those were the happiest and shortest years of my life for it was like I had everything I ever wanted... we always kept our promises, when I said I would call, I would… Gosh! It was great being yours and I'd do whatever to rewind even when I already know the ugly ending to the beautiful story...You taught me so much, right from who I didn't know I was to what I didn't know I needed, like novels and literature and you to understanding what it took to be a man... There was only one thing you didn't teach me, moving on once it was over... But am getting there, I know I keep saying that and you're tired of hearing it, I just hope someday I can look back and smile like you do otherwise I shall never forget those beautiful moments for as long as I shall live, so many unforgettable things you taught me, even the painful.... How can I ever thank you for the lessons that I learnt?
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 6:04 AM UTC
Cleaved from the breast of a hydrophobic stone; I found solace
in disremembering. I stowed away on a barge of flotsam.
Carried the weight of my teeming delirium
all the way, to my tiresome revolt.
Like a Gunga Din... with a bucket
full of wishes. And a bucket
of holes.
I only slept when the dreams stopped.
As foretold.
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC