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MsRobota Jul 2016
You take up space & have a mass.
Matter made of various molecules & atoms
You are stardust
A result of massive explosions in galaxies
Are you completely gone?
According to the conservation of energy
which states that energy cannot be created or destroyed
but can be altered from one form to another
you’re a little bit less orderly
According to decomposition
a proccess where organic substances are broken down
into much simpler forms of matter
you have been recycled by invertebrates, fungi & bacteria
to help continue the circle of life.
It is impossible to know simultaneously
the exact position & velocity of your particles
And so you can’t be put you back together
But you’re back where you belong
Forever consistent in space and time
Back in the atmosphere
Living in a world of invertebrates
A shadow that reeks cologne
Upon those who reek none
The benefactor of the scent
Is for himself, herself, both, or nil?
A fool in the box
No time to help
But time enough away for a guilt to shine
But outside shines introspection?

A plastic model
No generosity for a spine
Two hands in beyond displace
A smile where it should grace
Asleep in a heart of a child
John Archievald Gotera © 2015

This poem is available in my poetry compilation, One Flesh One Bad Costume.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/544548
Caleb Nobles Sep 2011
The moon is high and bright tonight
Quietly lighting the earth around me.
My skin scrunches together
As a chilly breeze steals warmth from me
The only sound heard
Comes from the invertebrates in the trees
And the closest heartbeat is a mile away
But there is something out here
It is a creature; a creature of habit
Always hunting only those who are solo
It is a sly creature
Creeping up on its prey silently
It will drain every drop of happiness
All dreams, all plans, all loves
Will fade away from the victim
Slowly the numbness absorbs me
And I do nothing to hinder its progress
Soon I am consumed in the cold darkness
I know this creature
This creature is loneliness
jessica obrien Mar 2012
with fondness towards invertebrates--
sans spine, their backs will never break.
but then the jellyfish are all like:

"with fondness towards humanity--
sans stingers, our handshakes wouldn't hurt like ****."
PJ Poesy Mar 2016
Nearing great compost pile,
that steamy heap,
insatiable hunger hits guts.
And I know fortitude for journey
is contained in wealth of
centipedes, predatory mites,
rove beetles, ants,
nematodes, protozoa,
and **** of wriggly worms.

Virgil waits for me, as he did Dante.
He takes form of a sowbug,
but with whole of worldly wisdom.
Shows me circles to which I will fall:
organic residues,
primary consumers,
secondary consumers
and further tertiary consumers.
An ancient pyramid decompositional
processes the scaling down
before the rising up. Each eating
excrement of another before them.

One I become with slugs and snails.
Invertebrates shred meat from bone.
Flies make airborne my bacteria,
carrying me off to feed birth of
future fungi.

I am reborn over and over.

Never more have I known
anything more Godly.
Intestinal juices of earth, enzymes
and other fermentation
taking me down,
pushing me out,
transforming trash of my existence
back to Eden.
From compost comes a wealth of life.
Neon Robinson Apr 2016
Vertebrate beginnings,
I collate each chordates morphological traits
Striving to understand their profuse, evolutionary attributes.
Memorize the fusion of Latin and Greek roots
Interwoven just enough to complicate
Instead of differentiate inarticulate invertebrates.
Inhibitions confine to an educational institution
Discombobulated and ready to *******
graduate.
Geraldine Taylor Jun 2017
Varied species of the kingdom

Across our earthly home

From sponges to the octopus

Without a backbone



Laying small eggs

Or a centimetre long

Astounding invertebrates

There outer skin is strong



Upon an organism

There they choose to lay

Eggs for a food source

Paralyse their prey



As the insect grows

So rapidly within

A time of which to moult

Remove their outer skin



The expanding colony

Survival of the team

Young bees evolving

From a single queen



Shed their exoskeleton

Insect crawling out

Expansion of their wings

Body drying out



Beginning as larvae

From the eggs they hatch

Dramatic transformation

Metamorphosis match



Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
Got Guanxi Feb 2016
Still water runs deep,
But the puddle remained,
Ripple less
To take turns to look in the reflection,
of the backrounds sound that reverberates across the landscapes.
Twisted invertebrates,
You still got my back?
We’re stuck in the mud,
up until our waist.
As the sunsets' behind,
I can’t look over,
my dislocated shoulder,
blades,
slice and sharpened,
by pebbles grains,
and then
skimmed across the puddles
so only ripples remain.
Though they soon disappear,
into the stagnant grasp
of fear and statuesque
placid, tranquil times.
In a hushed halycon,
hedonistic slices of life.
Still water runs deep,
but I drown in the shallow aqua,
in the afterlife of undulation.
The aftermath of the ripple effect.
Matty D May 2013
The forest is waking.

Pines and cedars
are greener than ever
while the oaks blossom.

Robins and blackbirds
chirp in earnest
scouring the leaf litter for hiding invertebrates.

The air’s stillness is swept away
by a gentle breeze, cooling my skin
heated by the sun.

Other than that,
there is only silence,
a good silence,
a slowly-rousing-from-winter silence.
It’s beautiful.
4/9/12
(c) MDC
Shay Ruth Sep 2013
How long will you sit there?
Cavities, your type of trophies from wilder days, the forgettable kind
Rutting between hills of lifeless grey flesh
Moist as the dust that stood to search (unsuccessfully) for fresh light

Nothing moves anymore
Even the 41, Guyanese invertebrates
Learned you long ago
They wait, tire

Sometimes before the hours tip, I hear you, or try to
You play the dances in your head
Just like swallowed tangos and serenades for mama
She always said you could sing

I fought for the top of your feet
My place, where my toes gripped wrinkles in your smile
Pulling me down, down past moonless flights
Yet no such pedestal stood

Mid-yawn, we breathed in springtime
I left a piece for you, buried deep in an injection
I lost my crown that day
My heart anticipated the warmth of melting snow

I'd cover furrowed brows in blue ink, sometimes black
Grinning under the blotting
Recipes for tomorrow
Words I beg to forget
Cameron Haste Jan 2015
Her wasabi breath,
snake venom injected crow's feet
&  chain smoking reflex could
scare a country into prohibition.
Enough ******, power and spine behind
every word to ******* the
male populous into a plethora
of soggy invertebrates.
Barnacle encrusted spinach weave,
obsidian void lip stick she squeezed
off a bat's back
& a Columbian waltz she stole
from a putrid little beasty
all mixed up & spit into a murky
cocktail glass wearing high heels.
You could feel the atmosphere tickle
a bit when she raised a brow at
You.
That silky whisper of a voice
was just an illusionist prelude
to the thundering brass of her
ringing enthusiasm.

She was the most powerful being.
A lioness among the flock of sheep.
A droplet of viscous mercury
in an oil spill.
Raw.
Sharp.
Lethal.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2018
a 2nd reiteration
listening to
dropkick murphys'
song
i'm shipping off to
Boston
...

you ******* quasi-paddies
and Iraqi Aladdins
have ****** up "my"...
******* jukebox!

no music video ever came
with a ******* news channel
recommendation!

wankers!
   sprat boilers!
  brat spanking fetishists!

give me my ******* jukebox
back... you *******:
toddler's little pinky
wankers off!

it's not enough that
the blood starts to boil...
my thinking becomes
all scrambled!

i turn into a Danzig hunger-strike
when i don't get
to listen to new music!

wankie ***** wankie *****...
sure...
but when i ******* while
taking a **** and taking a ****...
i don't make a *******
video out of it, do i?!

juggernaut... juggernaut...
juggernaut...
  say it thrice like Beetlejuice...
and... well... shazam!
a rhino appears!

i'm taking prisoners...
the ones attached to the charge,
as they scream...
pretending to... "tag along".

give my jukebox back you
******* invertebrates!
Sam Temple Sep 2016
long faded echoes
dance and congeal
smooth canyon walls
hold memories like agate

molten basalt cooled
faces hide beneath stone
abstract images of yesteryear
geyser from unseen depths

microscopic bacteria
slip betwixt crevasse
depositing refuse
giving flora a foothold

multi celled seedlings sprout
jutting forth with sprigs of green
instantly photosynthesizing
oxygen creators

new organisms take the fauna
making it home for both species
invertebrates
and those with a backbone
they exhale life

frontal lobe and thumbs
humanity as product
plague and virus
drinking the lifeblood
challenging the ecosystem

planetary shift
earth groans with growing pains
food chain emperor
next to extinction
a great cleansing
is at hand /
refresh mesh May 2015
I reached my arms out as nets in the sea
Said I was prepared to love what was in front of me
     (but I only liked to look at artistry.)
And I should've known that colors wouldn't be enough
The coral in my palms proved that life was always rough
I tried to apologize but they were already stuck in
Weighted like rainbows beneath my soft salty skin

Before I gave up I looked back at the blue
Filled with invertebrates that were nothing like you
And I knew what the plan was, to look again and to try
But by that time the coral were digging into my eye
So you see? It's uncomfortable, I was already hurt
I don't let anything infect my blood with dirt

That's always my excuse, I play it off way prettier
In purgatory they'll ask how I got even dirtier
Because I must look so clean while I feel so mean
Wanting to believe we are all ******* boring

But it can't be true.
Coral is beautiful and alive and every piece is new
But I could never enjoy it  
I'm the coral inside of you
merpeople?
Butch Decatoria Nov 2016
When they want
For wealth and gold and pearls

They will rip it from your
Hands and from the clam,
With the hunger of lust and malice

Swallowing life whole
The lost thieves of old...
Those who only feed the wolf
Loving dogs for more than thee.

It's curious to think
They presume that it is wealth
That heaviness of gold  
Just A mystic rock just melted chains.

The other a product of invertebrates

To lug about with them
Their wares
**** Flashing all who happened by
Their wares
There's no use for a sack of pearls

When here we get
And get got
Seed
           Fertile minds
A wealth unmatched
Seeds
[Point to the temples of our skulls]
Sow there
A chain of pearls...

How I should want
To learn from the honor
Of good fathers
Great pearls of their wisdom

How I should rather covet
          the wisdom of a clam
How an alien looking thing
          Under endless canopies
          Of un drinkable seas
Could be awarded / afforded   "Creation"

(You better should know)

The artistic hand of  Masterpiece
Shaping all
Opalescence
                  Almost to the utmost
Diamond cuts

How godlike is this gift
From the mouth
Like the clam ...

What treasures could be better heard
When all the world
Spoke Love
The language of divine "Creation."
Shay Ruth Feb 2015
Papa, how long will you sit there?
Cavities, or trophies of wilder days. Keep kids off drugs, right?
Remnants of teeth rot between hills of lifeless grey flesh
Moist as the dust that stood to search (unsuccessfully) for fresh light

Nothing moves anymore
Except for the 41, Guyanese invertebrates scuttering around unfinished floors
All dirt, more like home than yours. They learned you long ago.
They wait for your chair to lift and continuously tire

Sometimes before the hours tip I hear you, or try to
You play the dances in your head
Just like swallowed tangos and serenades for mama
She always said you could sing

I fought for the top of your feet
My place, where my toes hold on tightly so I’d never slip away
Just like I gripped wrinkles in your smile, pulling me down
Down past moonless flights. No such pedestal stood.

Mid-yawn, we breathed in springtime
I left a piece for you, buried in an injection
I lost my crown that day. Pads of my hands warmed as I sunk my
Head lower into the crook of my elbow, waiting for melted snow.

I'd cover furrowed brows in blue ink, sometimes black
Grinning under the blotting recipes for tomorrow.
“I’ll love you always, princess! Love, Papa”
Later, words I’d beg to forget
now, unlike my usually trenchant literary librettos, I regale the unknown (tum me) reader for savoir-faire articulation, elocution, and indomitable tour de force proffered by a spectrum of bounteous expropriated hegemony rightful to Mother Nature.
--------------------------------------------------------
A Place Revisited Within The Mind
(an illusory escape during dead of winter).
The shafts of a golden veil, spring sun at noon
break through the heavily coated
overgrowth of leafy foliage
and cause shadows spar upon the forest floor.

In a field of wild
a mosaic of crystalline color
from the prismatic play of sunshine
upon the silently talking heads
of the swaying stalks.

the scintillating and sparkling rays
in unison with the weft
(and warp across an invisible loom)
weaves a delicious tasting warm breeze,

(which sways the boughs of treetops to and fro,
akin to an unseen baby being cradled)
brings a ladled spate of cool freshness
from the map-cap world (webbed wide)
of a manmade existence.

The grandeur of the fallow spring meadow
a pageant of exquisite dignity
by the graceful movements
from the un-choreographed fall and rise
of the unplowed acres

eyes orbit, ear re Canal,
and twitching nostrils of sensate beings
to the mellifluous sounds
and sweet smelling aromas
that gently teasingly assault the senses
beguiling the sight,

and lulling ears into a transcendent state.
A buoyant airy tonal plume
rises into the surrounding heights
touches the breadth of cerulean sky
and scythe lent lee gently tumbles back down
like a merry widow waltzing flowery waterfall.

In quiet circumspection
the antics sans plethora of BuzzFeed ding
busily buzzing foraging insects,
which contentedly hum and alight nearby

flitting to and fro
oblivious to plaudits encore
harmoniously thriving
within the living laboratory

of Mother Nature,
sans, Insects or Insecta are by far
count as the largest group of
hexapod invertebrates
within the arthropod phylum,

where simultaneously
underneath the earthen surface
the ground this abustle with
glorious heartthrob
of one micro universe
comprising architects, builders, and weavers
engage in all manner
of natural devices for a livelihood.

This brilliant splendor tantamount
with top-notch operatic performance,
a sensational visual and audiological feast
hypnotizing one humble human (me)
into an inebriated state of bliss.
jiminy-littly Dec 2019
ESCUTCHEON:  Tuesday September 17th, 2019 at 09:41 PM writes:

oh please…no more fluff for the stuffy…blah, blah, blah

REPLY:
its so dank in here – do you mind moving over?

ESCUTCHEON:
have to go anyway, its late and kinda artsy for fancy yum yums like me ... so derivative like.

REPLY:
ha, ha, ha ya mean so loosely fitting that it ‘palls me *****’.   cheerios girls, as the Telegraphers say

ESCUTCHEON:
cornflakes, potatoes, silk chiffon ribbons, any french layer cake will do for you lot…btw working me times table

REPLY:
since you (men)tion it, hee, hee, kah, kah, (cough)(spits out loose tooth).

ESCUTCHEON:  
rolls around with five men until sparkling clean.  Just like all the men *** known, T. Hee (she wahnts five x =’s 45)

REPLY:
leave it alone pal (3plus10)

ESCUTCHEON:  
yeah or just leave. this restaurant is for invertebrates and finger stats and rind rats

cafe french is stupid. and quit pointing that thing at me
it feels like two flutes in the back

i **(p)e everyone just turns out to vote (for me!) (aside to self – how does one thought supersede another (self to aside – withering like self-replicating worms - it's sequential, isn’t it?))(parens within parens)

huge thugs. good work all. take 5 (6-1=3)

REPLY:
he's drunk.

ESCUTCHEON:  
blood everywhere

meh, just on the napkin...thank g-d

Geesh, Im surprised he could keep (alive) that long  (plus 0 minus 0)

Comment awaiting approval.

LEAVE A REPLY
(On the Top 50 Best Cafés of the World according to the Telegraph)
Kane Smith Sep 2017
Under the house
In the crawlspace
The moist Earth littered with the bones of small mammals,
And infested with a multitude of invertebrates,
I low crawled through soiled Earth to replace the water line as an unwillful apprentice under an impatient master.
This piece hilights an episode from when I was a plumber's assisstent.
Kai Aug 2019
I'm so deep I hit the floor
here's where continents rise
I'm practically the bottom
but I mean the opposite

Sea stars and squids
pretty little invertebrates
are the only things here
'cause no light shines at all

I'm freezing without being frozen
and tough enough to crush
They thought I was the end
till they found my friends
Hello and welcome to the ocean floor! I'm not the deepest but I'm nearly there. My name is Abyssopelagic. I'm also called the Abyss or Abyssal. My name in loose greek means no bottom!
If it's 'in the blood'
does it make things easier?
does it make things good?

He cogitates on
the city and the
invertebrates
the chinless
spin more
spineless
wonders,
but wonders if
he's being too cruel.

The crooked and the bent
the managers of the
management,
the rent's due and
now you may wonder
too
is he mad?
deranged?
could this all be changed
in the blink of a..why?

Off to the right of me
sit a woman in black and she
may be the sign of things to come.

concentration is the key to it
getting 'lit'
closes more doors.

Someone's birthday?
'for he's a jolly good..show
up and sign in
and that's the way life's
going.

I'll be going too,
but not
when you're least
expecting.
David R Mar 2021
What makes trees grow
the wind to blow
the **** to crow
the river flow

What gives the air its sustenance,
the small child, his utterance,
the living person's countenance,
the barking dog's truculence

He Who all coordinates
the universe orchestrates
from invertebrates to vertebrates,
amoeba to primates

Some say He is in everything
but i say this about this Thing
It transcends all the things
He is. That is. His name. King.
Maggie Sep 2020
sharks are worms!
they are invertebrates
they don’t have bones
they just have cartilage
Dada Olowo Eyo Apr 2020
There's no time than now,
That this country needs a rebirth,
All of the old must die,
To give life to a new beginning;

We just cannot continue like this,
Those dinosaurs have caused enough harm,
They've destroyed well enough,
Turned a bad situation irreversibly worse;

Thus a decaying of all the old ways,
An accelerated putting to death,
All religious bigoted acts of stupidity,
Tribal or ethnic jingoistic anomie;

A nation is coloured by its leader,
Unfortunate if such were defined,
By the idiosyncrasies of religious,
Or backward ethnosocial beliefs;

We are were we are,
Where we're not well,
Wherein we were,
Whereas were we where;

Thus it makes sense to gather,
The lot of these analogue invertebrates,
Offer them a life in exile somewhere,
Where the sun will never shine.
Nigeria must do away with the crop that defined it's sixty-year existence, for it is clear they cannot be part of the next sixty.

Let them that have any sense at all, reason.

Given the things we see during this global COVID19 pandemic local response, it is vivid, even to the visual impaired that the people unfortunate to be at the helm font have a clue.

The year twenty-twenty is a defining curve. Where we to miss redrawing our fate, then all has been lost.

— The End —