"immunity" poems
I feel decompressed and lethargic,
as I continue scrolling through my online soul only to see a kind-hearted person now nostalgic.
Why can't we all feel the same?
Why does the world seem to be aflame?
It's because we all try to accomplish being perfect,
and when we spot "convicts" we don't even detect we inflict neglect.
The thought of unity is fading away as is the hippie way,
a late anniversary bouquet whittling away,
a smoking cigarette left around the ashtray, dying this midsummers day.
Why is this thought so crazy anyway?
The change starts internally,
and can only be finished by an honest community,
one where we can all live with our acquired mental immunity.
Finally, peace sets within our unity.
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 11:52 AM UTC
There was once a small, dying flower
Her beauty was dim
Thoughts trapped her from deep below
The roots that held her down made it hard to grow
She lived a life of solitude
No other flowers blossomed beside her
Her sweet aroma nobody smelt
In the lonely landscape in which she dwelt
But then there came a day when something happened
The piercing blue sky changed into oyster silver
And as the flower proceeded to slowly die in pain
The miracle came. Rain.
The rain fell from the sky like liquid jewels
Each drop nourished the flower
Although the rain didn’t realize at first
It had helped the flower overcome the worst
Through the air the rain and flower shared silent whispers
The rain understood the flower’s dying condition
The flower was relieved that someone else knew
Of the deep trauma that everyday grew
For many weeks the rain showered on
To help the flower continue to be strong
But the rain didn’t know of the flower’s underground roots
The rain wanted to know but the flower kept them as emotional loots
One day another accompanied the rain
A being called sunshine, a beaming white light
Though slight droppings of rain spluttered down from the sky
The flower was inevitably starting to die
The flower didn’t want the rain to know
How dependent she was of her nurturing
The flower stood while its immunity could run
As the rain started to fade into the sun
The flower should be glad that the rain started to calm
For the rain carried pain and distress from far above
So the flower carried the trauma and rejection
Into the roots where she was bullied by her reflection
The sun was kindhearted, pure and bright
It shone optimism and grace to all in its range
It was actually a key to the flower’s survival
But neglect and jealously made her the rival
The flower started to push the rain away
She didn’t want to hold the rain back from serenity
So the rain dripped off the darkening petals
As the flower wishes, the rain cools and settles
The rain disappeared in the light of the sun
Creating a spectrum of colours bleeding across the sky
The flower sighed in relief of the petrichor
As the flower died, and became no more.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 11:23 PM UTC
There's a contentious subsection
Of the homosexual community
That go in a different direction
Hoping to find social immunity
The word masculine
Is the mask they're in
To live life saccharine
Wearing a plastic grin
From the sensation
Of over-compensation
Actuating placation
To differentiate
From the effeminate
They say they're separate
But really they're just desperate
To be accepted
By their own dejectors
To not be rejected
They become defectors
To avoid ridicule
They stack their deck with nothing but physicality
Their mind minuscule
The albatross on their neck is a lack of personality
To please those that compare them to **********
Internalizing their homophobia
An infernal mighty cornucopia
Creating an over abundance of rules
One must follow to be a proper male
But we should jump out of the pool
If being miserable is what that entails
The more genuine version we see
The happier we all should be
Then we might all be free
But if I were to show glee
Someone might call me a ******
And I don't think I could hack it
When the rest of society backs it
With an approval that is tacit
So I convince myself I'm avoiding identity politics
Using total discretion
To make no impression
But my friends and family would know that's not what I'm doing
So why not tell them?
I haw and I hem
Because the underlying ghostly shame
Is the true nature of this social game
When you have the fame of the flame
You're told to get in a lane of the same
Erase my ******* sin
With the title masculine
There are practical reasons to hide it
But how much time will be bided?
Will my life be derided
Until the evil are delighted?
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 12:58 AM UTC
a bottle of scotch had bad dreams.
bullets twitch, junk sick
in 3 inch thick
mustard ****
toe nails clipped from yeti
lay strewn about the **** stained corpse
of a motel six dixie cup -
root canal trophy,
next to
a black fez
with scab tassel
upended.
down in it. belching apnea
propaganda
and belladonna
waiting for curious george
to find a shotgun
and a yellow
hat
and a brick banana.
blowflies inhale the rank damp
of a fresh ****
the odd dog whines
like a clown in -
a blender.
[ the ]
house wins
with a marked card; jabbing fat fingers
into acned rosacea
bloated with sleep lack
and mortgage
back stab
chasing twenty ******
with a hollow point
pull from an acid
flask
while hailing a black cab.
tinsel sutures
stitch eyelids as a mercy
shattered bone knit
hand-grenade
cozies
old glory, at half mast
half wasted
fifty stars, no light
dragging on
the grounds of immunity
to do a line
of coke stock
with a basset hounds'
finesse.
your taxes at work
in columbia,
hiding from a lost farm
in Idaho
your american dream
turning tricks in shanghai
for a counterfeit
egga roll
your meme, devoid
like an ice cube
tombstone
your freedom, parking cars
for italian escorts
smoking skin flutes
for ferraris
and white teeth.
your integrity, sold to a hedge fund
for astroglide and a pez dispenser
packed with prozac
pressed by ' Jose the butcher' s abuela
in a narco slum
that ain't seen radio
since cinder blocks
had wings.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 2:40 PM UTC
Your love begs the release of this immunity.
You see,despite my growing ******
I remain an oddity.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 6:38 PM UTC
They Call It Heresy,
We Call It Genuine Science
We designed the genes' primers,
Ordered them along the oligomers.
Our aim is an elaborate one,
It involves molecular cloning,
Sequence characterization, and
Relative expression analysis of
Bovine Trefoil Factors.
Now we hope to clone the gene,
The gene which is of a bovine origin,
By extensive working hours input,
And bearing in mind the risks,
Of not getting the desired output,
The possibility of failure always therein,
But pregnancy, healing & immunity it's governing.
Three types of trefoil factors there are,
TFF1: It suppresses gastric carcinoma,
And also helps in pregnancy,
TFF2: Helps exclusively in cancer research,
TFF3: Helps exclusively in pregnancy maintenance,
And also our prime interest.
After cloning the genes,
We have to sequence them,
And after characterization,
We have to analyse them,
After relative expression.
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 12:40 PM UTC
Immunity at the cost
Of false patriotism.
Immunity at the cost of
A heart... a life.
“You’re doing God’s work, Son.”
You hear as you march.
March in to the pit of ****** and blindness.
“He had a gun!” You cry.
“He was only a child.” I reply.
You take validity out of the words of the oppressed.
You take money from the pockets of the poor.
How many memories must you repress
To feel empowered enough,
to drop the innocent to the floor?
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 1:14 PM UTC
If I were ruler of all nations... As one of Gods creations
There would be policies created from this societies frustrations
I wouldn't waste your time... In fact doing so would be a crime
It wouldn't be about politics with all it's dirt & grime
It would be about the people
It would ensure our rights are equal
Spread to all from high above, preached atop the highest steeple
And I wouldn't be afraid to say...
That expiring some freedoms may be the only way
And that would mean taking certain peoples "rights" away
Some freedoms are given away too easily
They should require much harder accessibility
Which will aid in the filtration of humanity
One right I would retrieve because it's abuse is so hard to believe
I'd make it official that not all persons would have the right to conceive
Not unless certain criteria are met, I'd have certain rules that would be set
I'd put a hold on this right until one disproves their ignorant
And since ignorance is bred I wouldn't allow our future to continue to be mislead Stuck in communities that will never get ahead
If I were faced with this position, I have no doubt in my disposition
Life skills would be taught in school, a required graduation precondition
I'd advocate the importance of community Gone would be the privilege of immunity And with it would go all feelings of disunity
To ensure all are exposed to equal possibility
Early education would include lessons on life & moral responsibility
To ensure guidance to all despite personal accessibility
I'd replace things like algebra and womans lit with classes on life knowledge
It's more important that the youth learn financal stability and manners, those who want to learn the square root of X can take that major in college
Priority should be that each leaves high school with the tools to survive
Each would leave with equal opportunity to prosper and to thrive
Oh if I ruled the world!!
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 8:44 AM UTC
When I fall in love
I become obsessed.
Anger,
Jealousy,
possessiveness,
it all controls me.
All my insecurities exposed,
my anxieties
come out of obscurity.
For rejection, unrequited love
and deceptions,
I have no immunity.
But falling in love requires false expectations.
Jun 15, 2021
Jun 15, 2021 at 8:45 PM UTC
Your actions
speak like knives
that carve away at the soul of my being.
They stab the tender flesh of my faith.
Your words force their way
through my heaving chest
From the fork of your tongue
and rip out my battered heart,
Leaving a gaping cavity
of tangle arteries
that ooze out scattered emotions
from deep within the shredded
bloodied tissue that remains.
Exposed and vulnerable
to the elements of your
ramped terror,
the wound quickly festers
from the stench of your
infectious hatred
that slithers it's way into
the detatched arteries
and consumes any thought
of compassion.
And is diseased with
progressive revenge
and retaliation
that becomes the driving force
of strength that remedies
the forgiveness
that unconditional love's
natural immunity produces
and is temporary remedy to
the heart retching incurable
depression and permanent
lifelasting pain.
That haunts me
it taunts me
again and again.
...... And so begins the plague
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 8:15 AM UTC
train to Chicago...
See it from a train.
Should have called it
the Rust Apocalypse.
Endless piles of industrial
woolly mammoth skeletons
turned red by the rust
that never sleeps or blinks.
Miles and miles of factory,
mills, and foundry corpses.
The workers long scattered
to $10 per hour ***** jobs.
Businesses gone with the workers.
Globalization at its finest.
The end of the people's value.
Amerika crumbles of dry rot.
Enjoy your stuff, good citizen.
This will all come to you.
There is no immunity
to endless, mindless greed.
~mce
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 4:51 PM UTC
found out yesterday
exactly when I move away
the perfect opportunity
of immunity
to what people say
just get away
I could change me
create who I want to be
perfect chance
get new pants
different haircut
could work, but
just one thing
objection in the parental ring
I’m not allowed
to lift the shroud
over my identity
to reveal the real me
it’s not okay
to be gay
or bi,
don’t even try
you want to be a boy
be quiet don’t annoy
you’re not old enough
just confused it’s rough
you will learn to be
straight, just see
listen to what I say
hide it away
just a phase
I hate that phrase
don’t be a loon
it’ll be over soon
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 7:35 PM UTC
It is like some steampunk nightmare
Where working overtime is a racket
When what was time and a half pay
On the day I get my check, I make less;
Some kind of tax bracket scam thing
Where working extra hours put me
Into another category and increased
The tax they use to grease the wheels
Of a bloated government that hates me.
Maybe that dates me and it isn’t true;
That things have changed and it is
No longer arranged that way. And maybe
The way things became done was that
I got it all back as a refund. But isn’t that
Redundant, that I had to pay it to them
To use it like per diem for their games?
The shame is that I chafed and did nothing
Besides ******** and frothing at the mouth.
It’s not like I could go south to Ensenada,
Buy a piñata that looked like Mickey Mouse,
It was just that the house always wins.
But I have to pay for my tiny, mundane sins.
Why don’t they? Why does it go on and on
And then the money’s gone and I pay more
The next time some fat ***** of a politician
Begins a petition to increase their slice
And nicely reduce ours to a pittance
So low there is no admittance to a show
Or enough to replace a car that is a wreck?
The albatross around my neck gets larger
As it I move farther from the day it died
Even though I have tried standing up straighter.
It’s The Grand Guignol Theatre that life is
And the strife is to not let it get me down;
To be the happy clown and not the sad one
In a game that was begun to make me lose.
I am not confused. I see it, but it seems
Even in dreams I get no kind of relief
From a governmental thief with immunity;
The pillages with impunity and teases
That he does what he pleases. Neener, neener
What in hell could possibly be meaner?
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 6:32 AM UTC
Evermore has man searched for God,
the one who lives forever,
reaching upward towards the sun,
Icarus smitten with metallic rod.
Evermore has man dreamed of eternal life,
mixing potions,
magnum opus,
man or monster under knife.
Evermore has man sought immunity,
medical perfection,
telomeres with regeneration,
society given a longer unity.
Evermore has man longed for the paranormal,
vampires and immortal beasts,
fireside stories fit for fear,
portals to the imagination.
*The bird of Hermes,
is my name,
eating my wings,
to make me tame.*
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC
Maieutic dreamer, the ecstatic euphorias of cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix are pandemic. Extravagant exorbitances of flirtatious flamboyance and flippantly flighty flit-ness. But what of stint-ness snities? Excruciating exacerbations of laboriously beleaguering hypercritically meticulous tediums. Synaptic syntax is fervently intense like a feral phrenic frenzied **** Ruminating humanity’s collective consciousness gives me hysterical deliriums. We’re frenetically febrile, atrociously impetuous impudents who don’t know our id conclusion from our impromptu innuendo juncture. And what of the organizational principles of our subconscious continuums? Do we only dream about dexterous articulation? Can we become the agile acuity we envision or do we wallow in the drifty drivel of dour droll’s dreary? What’s to phatic say about futurity fatidic’s forlorn wanton? We need chutzpah, moxie savvy’s panache. Is there no such thing as a universally acceptable ontological deontology? Probity is as obvious as due yesterday, ethology’s entelechy the omnipresent reward. Elan vital is not subjective, it’s objective. Explicating epiphanies of social contiguity’s prospectus so innate as to be irrefragable. Not perhaps the oligarchies of eclectic synectics, but perhaps the pugnacious audacities of emote to exude aimed imbue. Assay relay’s convey, foray delay purveys inveigh. Perhaps if we are all cogently fecund with our vituperatively vociferous the holocaustial cacophony of our obstreperously abstruse will be just what the grotto grouch gumption ordered. Infusing all with the capability of aspiring to higher powers and yet not forgetting the mystery of self and others. I know I know what an ingratiating sycophant on the introjection. Gambits of alluvium aloof impunity when we all know immunity is Epicurean absurdity, but I already covered that on the phrenic aimed holocaustial cacophony. Seriously of we all enunciate so on the diction of mesomerism's to punctual. Why can’t that be the essence of accidence ambience acoustics, the arbitrational attenuation of actuator's aorist. We are not ethereal, we are corporeally preternatural and the sooner we all learn to respect each other to that the sooner we can get down to the sublimely surreal in oneiromancy’s apotropaic panaceas.
May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 11:35 AM UTC
Surrounded by the germs of the red death
Attacking my immunity with words
poisonous words slowly going up my blood stream
insecurities slowly attacking my soul
swallowing it into a deep deep dark hole
these germs were once my friends
It's disgusting how some"friendships" end
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC
We are all apart of one system
yet there are many components to this system
innumerable actually
all following the same laws
as if contractually
bound by one set of rules
but
with infinite variation
like nations of expression separated by vibration
only contained by the systems within
that perceive and react
to the system
they sustain
one giant metaphor
a sufficient example
is the human body
a complex interaction
of
individual organisms
all communicating, interacting and participating
in sustaining the body
an organism
of organisms
Even our organs have organs,
working together to sustain
a system larger than itself
cells
communicating, producing
regulating, exchanging
are themselves composed of
organisms, performing
all these functions
we must not
forget
the system
which we sustain
the order
we provide
for the larger body and mind
together
we compose the cells of this planet
interacting and communicating
with each other and all other life
a subtle dance
that carries impressive consequences
except
the way in which we act
as organisms
is likened to cancer
in which
a once productive cell
behaves individually
not in accordance with the system it sustains
replicating uncontrollably
wasting unnecessarily
not taking the whole into consideration
although
if the planetary cancer of humanity
replicates
itself to extinction
all will still be well
as it always has been
and
always will be
yet
the system
in which we exist
would lose
the chance to witness and experience
the transformation from cancer
to great negative immunity
through the powers
of the newly recognized
human organism
a system sustained
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 12:42 AM UTC
Grievous grace, has due yesterday’s blue
Autonomous avarice enigma entity’s hue
Identity crisis guidon guile’s due
Mystic symbiosis’ existential true
Apostrophe sabbat transcendental kitsch
Consortium liaison’s libido’s glitch
Translucent opulence’s lambent’s a *****
Metaphysical mystique is black as pitch
Terrestrial equestrian tellurian's terrene
Adamant tenacity’s obtusely obscene
Obstinate loquacity spiritually serene
Maniacally meticulous dexterity’s preen
Lucid cogent fecund’s maieutic
Incarnate’s manumissional eidetic
Spatiotemporal telemetry’s fanatic
Logistical tactician’s primal ecstatic
Chicanery dynamism’s opulent fealty
Intrinsic innate retrospective cruelty
Indigenous endemic inherent frailty
Corrupt costume counselor subtlety
Gambit alluvium aloof impunity
Immunity is epicurian absurdity
Who are we to us credulity
Nimbus nimiety nihilism’s congruity
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 8:39 AM UTC
Maieutic dreamer, the ecstatic euphoria of cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix is pandemic. Extravagant exorbitances of flirtatious flamboyance and flippantly flighty flit-ness. But what of stint-ness snities? Excruciating exacerbations of laboriously beleaguering hypercritically meticulous tediums. Synaptic syntax is fervently intense like a feral phrenic frenzied **** Ruminating humanity’s collective consciousness gives me hysterical deliriums. We’re frenetically febrile, atrociously impetuous impudents who don’t know our id conclusion from our impromptu innuendo juncture. And what of the organizational principles of our subconscious continuums? Do we only dream about dexterous articulation? Can we become the agile acuity we envision or do we wallow in the drifty drivel of dour droll’s dreary? What’s to phatic say about futurity fatidic’s forlorn wanton? We need chutzpah, moxie savvy’s panache. Is there no such thing as a universally acceptable ontological deontology? Probity is as obvious as due yesterday, ethology’s entelechy the omnipresent reward. Elan vital is not subjective, it’s objective. Explicating epiphanies of social contiguity’s prospectus so innate as to be irrefragable. Not perhaps the oligarchies of eclectic synectics, but perhaps the pugnacious audacities of emote to exude aimed imbue. Assay relay’s convey, foray delay purveys inveigh. Perhaps if we are all cogently fecund with our vituperatively vociferous the holocaustial cacophony of our obstreperously abstruse will be just what the grotto grouch gumption ordered. Infusing all with the capability of aspiring to higher powers and yet not forgetting the mystery of self and others. I know I know what an ingratiating sycophant on the introjection. Gambits of alluvium aloof impunity when we all know immunity is Epicurean absurdity, but I already covered that on the phrenic aimed holocaustial cacophony. Seriously of we all enunciate so on the diction of mesomerism's to punctual. Why can’t that be the essence of accidence ambience acoustics, the arbitrational attenuation of actuator's aorist. We are not ethereal, we are corporeally preternatural and the sooner we all learn to respect each other to that the sooner we can get down to the sublimely surreal in oneiromancy’s apotropaic panaceas.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 7:19 PM UTC
Two days old, as hours foretold,
Wisdom is a gift, heartily gifted so.
Life’s greatest mysteries left to unfold,
Hourglass sand drowns the catacomb.
Time perceived through linear scopes
Shows present truths and fallacies as heard.
Elope distinctions, divorce similarities,
For the world is backward and time, reverse.
Lessons learned, reiterate the word,
Responsibility, the key to community.
Prosper, live long,
Disease is only deadly when extinct is the immunity.
Freely versed, lyrically rehearsed,
Speaking from the heart blends emotion at the worst
With flint and tinder
Striking up fire, but always a spark first.
Apr 11, 2011
Apr 11, 2011 at 2:56 PM UTC
Santa was a hit man and he had no alibi
His big red suit was drenched in blood, more vibrant than a dye
See, Mrs. Clause was KGB, and the North Pole was her base
And Santa was the corporate shell that really owned the place
The "elves" were political prisoners (and yes, some were rather short)
And the present-giving Christmas was the day Clause would report
But when the Union went away, there was no need for Clauses
And they ripped up the whole contract (not covered in Incidental Causes)
Mrs. Clause got into drinking, and it got worse everyday
'Till it happened: she was so drunk, she keeled over in the hay
They found her the next morning with a reindeer on her head
Santa knew before the med report that Mrs. Clause was dead
So he went back to the basics, and he hooked into Network 1
The most top secret channel where certain agents have their fun
He was lost without his partner (their marriage was arranged)
She had handled the business,his financial sense was left estranged
He knew without her, he'd go under; have to sell the Pole to the West
He needed to make the payments by doing just what he knew best
Santa filled the role of assassin, killing silently with grace
He laid a finger beside his nose before he shoved the gun up in your face
Making the hits look unconnected, well he varied up his style
In fact he was thinking of being a "serial killer" and followed that up for a little while
But his stealing milk and cookies didn't clue anybody in
Maybe it just wasn't plausible to blame the fat man and his grin
Whatever the case, he's a random killer who strikes with impunity
With a swish of his coat, he jumps roof to roof, flaunting his immunity
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 9:23 PM UTC
I.
There was once a tiny, fading lily
Her beauty was diming, merely,
Aiya Aiya… Lucia Lucia
Where wonders trapped her in deep sorrow
Where the root called her to continue to grow
Standing alone, an existence of solitude
While the white lily shall love in delight ,
Nor weeping alone or shining in an illuminous light .
II.
Lily desires to live, in a place without pain
But the lily’s life is full of strife and strain
Hey, Rain, did the miracle come?
Look, oyster silver clouds replace dark blue skys
Aiya Aiya… Lucia Lucia
As the rain started to fade into the solo song
As the Lily stood while its immunity could run
Who could take one name and lead an ever gain?
Hey, Rain, the miracle came.
Listen, silent whispers shared across the air
and the rain and peacefully landed on Lily.
III.
Out of the deep trauma that every day grew
Out of the rain, the Lily was relieved that someone else knew
Who makes her wonder,
if the rain didn’t know of the Lily’s
wayward roots
What does the rain want to know,
although the Lily hold them as emotional loot
Aiya Aiya… Lucia Lucia
Who is Lily as she solely sings alone in the rain?
And her heart is bleeding from the excruciating pain
Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 3:40 AM UTC
We place ink on paper
The way we swallow a pill,
Hesitation,
Fear of bitter taste and
Dissatisfaction,
Failure to expel what truly
Eats us alive.
We try to wipe away the fever that stains
Our body
The way that the ink stains the pages,
Seeping through and latching on
With no hope of removing it
Until we grow a deep immunity,
A force that dissolves all absolute
Decay and bacteria
Until we are clean.
One dose of imperfection
And three moments of inspiration a day
Will make you healthy again
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
dear Life,
i take vitamin c with chicken noodle soup
cause i need a double boost of immunity to you,
Life, you're virus-like
slow and steady persistant stream of attack
on my will's white blood cells,
eventually wearing me down with:
term papers,
lies,
paper cuts,
and a nicotine addiction
dear Life,
i got a triple boost of immunity today
i drank orange juice with my vitamin c and soup.
HA.
Mar 2, 2010
Mar 2, 2010 at 6:36 PM UTC