"laboratories" poems
when words are few,
or stuck in dictionaries
unused or unknown
like
compassion,
tyrants and wife-beaters
scream
with iron fists,
silencing fluent lips
in clotting streams of blood
...and machetes,
severing lucid limbs
from able bodies
in active states of articulation
...and guns,
the kryptonite of cowards
and buffoons,
the callow voice of philistines
and goons,
blasting cogent words
and vocal women
into oblivion
....and laboratories
where forensics of
fingerprint and dna
scream loudest,
sending tyrants and wife-beaters away
to sleep with the devil
in a shallow cell
on earth
or
hell below...
~ P (#Pablo#OTAWB)
(8/11/2013)
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 1:05 PM UTC
you read those books where they build girl angels in laboratories
who fall in love with lonely boys.
you like hearing your poems
read back to you in english accents
and you like your accents
licking on your poems
because, if I recall, you’re heart-broken
--no I haven’t forgotten,
yes I remember, you were the
curvaceous queen of unskinned knees;
I was ****** in jeans.
you got partway through Swann’s Way,
but gave up last November,
when I was hitting walls hard.
the last words you read were the last
on your mind, “Happiness is beneficial for the body--”
and you stopped, that was fine enough
for a tattoo. (happy needle,
breast imbrue)
Well grief taught me, grief bought me,
and I was hitting walls hard.
But straight back for you, to boys kissing boys
and you’re too old for toys and
you think it’s pathetic
how girls go to get it
with silicon and plastic
oh go on, tell me how
you’re a heart-breaker, ha,
because you showed them
your ******* like an angel.
you like to remind me how skinny you are now,
and you still love to dance.
There is no equivalent factory making boy angels.
Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 10:47 PM UTC
Oh, beautiful, tortured soul,
the messages you speak
impair my heart
Your age old wisdom
sweeps into my head
giving me consciousness.
My beautiful tortured soul,
why don't you come
out of that
silver cage?
Come frolic freely
in my heart's meadows,
my minds laboratories.
Come sit with me
on a bench
and tell me all that hurts you.
Beautiful tortured soul,
please let it all out.
My mind and heart
cannot live
without you.
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 11:50 AM UTC
.
The Ancient of the Days,
can you see what he is wearing,
Cardinal shoes made of children’s skin
wrung out from the veins
Last drop of blood that remains
overflowing tankers
Come through the secret bunkers
Descend to the underground
To the cities of gold
The gardens in diamonds adorned
Hotels palatial
Death camps infernal
Where thousands of children abducted
Cry in the clutches of the devil
They will invite you to dine
Pour adrenalin into your wine
Baby roast on the menu
Bones burning in the fireplace just for you
They will forever be returning
Rejuvenated with blood, rejoicing
to walk among men in shoes of cardinal skin
Stepping over dead bees just the same
Compassion they’ll say is their name
Whilst from those cities underground
From their laboratories
Millions of bacteria and viruses
Are killing your world mercilessly
The poles and icebergs they are melting away
Torrents will bring you to dismay
Tsunami will crumble the cities to ruins
Earthquake will shatter graves and dreams
Everything you have they will turn to dust
Drought will ablaze crops to crust
Of hunger millions will die
Poisons are raining from the sky
To the bones of children cast thy eye
to the bottom of the sea where they lie
look inside the savage eyes,
yearning for demise
gleaming with innocence
of the fallen victims’ cries
The Ancient of the Days can you see
The Heavens are yearning for equity
Without the soul void is poetry
Let the world,
That endures the humiliation silently
Frightened of camps and lethality
- be free.
Saša Milivojev
Translated by Ljubica Yentl Tinska
www.sasamilivojev.com
Jun 25, 2022
Jun 25, 2022 at 7:21 AM UTC
Mourning another chemtrial morning
as blood moons wait to rise
increasing size of the Yellowstone bulge
biblical prophecy meets Aztec idolatry
in a Nostradamus tell-all
bending light flashes off secret project crafts
black by nature and budget
but the gays can marry, so everything is fine
equality seekers wearing iodine 131 coated sneakers
sneak into laboratories to release rats
with Ebola
as a way to protest Wall Street injustices
without leadership we experience the occupy movement
at least the ****** hippies got blacks and women the vote
the current generation is too hell-bent on selfies and photo bombs
to do something silly
like read
research
unite
create change….growth….aid in the evolution of man
but no, not when the new Black Ops is coming out
and teens are posting **** pictures on Instagram
violent **** culture pretending freedom matters
and I get madder
both angry and crazy
as the chances slip away
each day the ability to rebuild democracy fades further
every passing moment means one more stupid child
eating chips
and drinking soda
makes the choice
to stay put
and die young
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 4:19 PM UTC
Crazy Love
I love you, you love me,
we're one dysfunctional family.
You're psychotic, I'm bipolar,
we both push a doll in a baby stroller.
You're a bit crazy, I'm a bit nuts,
we're both paranoid and have no guts.
Our two kids think we're insane,
for fun they tie us up with a chain.
We both take pills to help medicate,
when we get high, we like to levitate.
We've both been in a mental institution,
somehow we both avoided execution.
When we got married, no one came,
our family, we put to shame.
All that matters is we have each other,
it doesn't matter that we both suffer.
You write poems, I write rhyming stories,
mad scientists built us in secret laboratories.
Once a year we renew our vows,
all that ever attend are chickens and cows.
Kids moved out when they were ten,
we get supervised visits every now and then.
We fell in love when very young,
she loves the way I use my tongue.
Our favorite game is naked twister,
oh did I mention we're brother and sister.
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 12:30 AM UTC
His dead!
I suspect Nietzsche did it in morality with a book;
I suspect Platon did it in birth with stillbirth;
I suspect Machiavelli did it on Ruling with the ends to justify the means;
I suspect Darwin did it in Galápagos with birds;
I suspect Scientists did it in laboratories with stem cells;
I suspect Romans did it in Golgotha with a cross;
I suspect Jews did it in Gethsemane with Judas;
I suspect Christians did it in Spain with inquisition;
I suspect Muslims did in New York with a plane;
I suspect Adolf did it in Poland with gas;
I suspect Stalin did it in Siberia with gulags;
I suspect United states did it in Hiroshima with a bomb;
I suspect United nations did it in wars by looking away;
I suspect God did it in Heaven by suicide;
I suspect I did it here with a poem
I suspect You did it.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 3:57 AM UTC
Like a designer drug
An electronic message from you
Via a cellular phone
comprising of dull text
With no promise of a lengthy dialogue
And a somewhat dismissive connotation
Leaves me strung-out
And like my tipple
Gin and peach juice
Leaves me blisteringly intoxicated and crazed
In sheer shock
I then detonate
Like those chemical experiments done by the scientists in the laboratories of research
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 1:02 PM UTC
listening to the not so enticing news
that basically tells us that authoritarian idiots
are on the rise
globally
that neither the US nor Europe
are able to handle refugee flows
the proper legal and humanitarian way
that global warming is actually happening
and not just an invention of the Chinese etc.
in order to misle U.S. American billionaires
that in the future
thanks to advances in technology
only experts in very sophisticated laboratories
will be able to recognize the difference
between fake news and real news
I DO worry about the world
my grandchildren grow up into
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 5:21 PM UTC
Took three entrance exams, and taking one more this month.
All four are for the most prestigious universities.
They're popular choices for dreamers like me,
But fighting for a spot under their programs
Isn't as easy as others make it out to be.
Do I belong to University No. 1,
Where it proudly adorns and displays its title
As the Top 1 university in the whole wide country?
Sure, I'd love to work with fine, brilliant minds
But the question is: will I survive?
Or, do I belong to No. 2,
Where my father had once studied?
'I'll always be a blue eagle,' he'd proudly say.
I've always dreamed of being like him
I also heard this college had awesome laboratories
Then again, maybe University No. 3
Could be the one for me.
I could continue my heroic saga as a green archer
Cozying up in one of the largest libraries ever
With a book in hand and a heart filled with contentment
Perhaps it's University No. 4,
Which had the easiest exam so far
I've been encouraged left and right by doctors that
Should I pursue my lengthy medical studies
University No. 4 is the right place for me
Where do I belong?
I'll be away from home soon; I'm preparing myself well
For the college of my choice and the reality it brings with it
Here I am, sitting, asking myself again:
Where do I belong?
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
Land is disappearing
ok, farms to be exact
swallowed up by cities
they're gone, and that's a fact
developers are buying
what the farmers now will sell
for the subdivision builders
who are waiting at the well
standing in a parking lot
of what used to be a farm
I remember corn and animals
and I remember a red barn
now, it is a big box store
selling food from somewhere else
grown in little laboratories
from little dishes on a shelf
there used to be a farm right here
a place that grew our food
we knew what we were buying
now we don't and we are *******
the big box stores keep coming
and they're starting to intrude
we once had farms and churches
now we don't and we are *******
I remember driving out of town
twenty minutes at the most
you'd pass by at least four farms
now the farmland is the host
to development and wind farms
No parks, just urban sprawl
no fields of cows and horses
just another **** strip mall
There used to be a farm here
it was sold to pay the tax
it was auctioned off in silence
behind the farmers backs
no more farms or farmers
no more barns with painted names
just big houses with no back yards
where you don't know your neighbors names
there used to be a farm right here
a place that grew our food
we knew what we were buying
now we don't and we are *******
the big box stores keep coming
and they're starting to intrude
we once had farms and churches
now we don't and we are *******
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
Scientists in laboratories
playing with the quark,
accelerating particles
beyond the speed of light,
searching for the digit
at the end of things like 3.14159.
Clergymen in tabernacles
orating ancient prayers,
reading ancient scripture
to gathered fallen souls,
searching for the deity,
for Jesus Christ, for God.
Isolated in my room
with nothing but a notebook
and a restless scribbling pen,
searching myself for myself.
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC
For the last few thousand years, humans have continued to trespass, venture into inhospitable areas, burning down, meddling, or just poking around in natures complex, natural chemical laboratories.
The more humans encroach upon the natural world; the more exposed we are to a highly complex eco system; a system that has evolved over millions of years to support a huge diversity of life in which humans play a tiny part.
As a species we struggle to survive the mosquitoes, not to mention the trillions of other diverse insects, animals, fawner and flora we are now disrupting and introducing to our populations, is it any wonder so many of us are dying.
This disease is a symptom of our consumption and lack of contentment?
Feb 11, 2021
Feb 11, 2021 at 10:29 AM UTC
Going to slaughter the death like a bull felling it on ground
binding tightly its four legs, we have made our earth
full of death more.
Going to uproot the shrubs of weeds,
we have filled our life-land with more weeds.
Going to destroy the darkness with all its roots,
we have fallen down slipping into the darkest ditch.
Our wisdom is now eating our whole body
pecking at all limbs like a vulture.
All our books and idle times of our laboratories
are biting our soul and existence, raising their hoods
like a cobra.
We do not know where we have reached
running like a bull tearing its rope.
Our science and technology are pouring black heat
upon our skulls.
Our dull eyes are getting overturned again and again
like an unhappy housewife hanging herself
with a ceiling fan.
Even the eyes of our heart are growing feeble and inactive
by getting fade every day.
Spitting upon all our rotten knowledge, wit,
welfare and blessing,
spitting upon our democracy twinging like a septic boil
and spitting upon all our destructive inventions,
we are eagerly waiting like swallows,
like the thirsty fish of a dry pond
or like the cracked fields of Summer-
if it rains!
if peace descends!
if the last white pigeon comes
flying from the distant sky-civilization out of this sky
engulfed with bombing planes,
carrying the message of peace!
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
pandering to the lowest common
the red headed ******* brays into the void
faceless masses screech back from the darkness
begging to be fed again, shown light
offered dignity…but this day has not come
instead
the beast feasts on those least able to protect themselves
the laughter follows… --
pretentious preacher gargles wine
claiming the blood of Christ flows within him too
favored and chosen by god, we must obey whatever tomfoolery
this sociopath lays at our ingrown toenails
dried skin flakes away in the warm breeze
as displeased fleas flee the scene
no longer able to **** the impoverished blood
their hunger turns
refocusing
looking to those in power
and them which control wealth gap policy –
reptilian overloads bathe in the blood of Amber alert victims
drinking deep discontent and discord
while spreading disease through dog spit
…… my how the Americans love to give their puppies kisses on the mouth
The greatest nation pays tribute to the false image of evil incarnate
Some give this face to Obama,
others see it in the smile of Donald Trump, me,
I see it in the eyes of the apathetic child
too worried about the new call of duty game
to care if a flag means slavery
or black people are disproportionately shot by cops
to quantify, at my age, anyone under 25 is a child
sorry, youngin… --
witnessing women liberate themselves so extremely
as to have ***** grown in laboratories
I hope unicorn women are in our future,
with big floppy black *****
surgically attached to their foreheads
this idea will certainly get them through that glass ceiling
as no one will stand in the way
for fear of being thrusted upon
by the new secretary …….
……….
Did I have a point? –
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 3:41 PM UTC
One day I’ll come swimming
beside your ship or someone will,
and if you hear the siren sing, listen to her.
For if you close your ears only nothing happens,
you will never change.
I don’t care if you risk your life to scary creatures
with webbed feet and violet eyes.
You can enter their caves and castles,
and perhaps their glass laboratories.
Just don’t be fooled by anyone but yourself,
for they will never be of any help to you.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 10:05 AM UTC
.
(On the consequences of biological warfare
and experimentation on humans.
Disturbing images in verse)
.
What is the world breathing in?
We are perishing,
***** rains are falling,
Poisons and genes,
Rodents and savages,
The tailed and the horned.
These are not the bacteria nor the viruses
nor the “Conspiracy Theories”,
But Satan’s blood thirsty savages,
Monstrosities from the laboratories.
With a head of the child
and a body of a snake
He is mourned by his mother,
He doesn’t even resemble the old man
- the horned goat - his father.
Millions of ex-people
witlessly meandering the planet,
on all fours! Invertedly.
At times someone even flies,
reversedly.
Jumping locusts,
We’re becoming crickets,
Rodents and cripples,
Vaccinated monkeys,
hair-covered in the scorched rainforests.
Babies are no longer crying,
Only frogs can be heard croaking!
How wicked have we become,
We are the monstrosities,
In the fires of Hell
on roasts we shall turn,
Extinguishing with our tears
and our blood the flames
that forever will burn.
Is this the end?
- It’s not the end.
The end with the punishment
will not come to an end.
Saša Milivojev
Translated by Ljubica Yentl Tinska
www.sasamilivojev.com
Jun 25, 2022
Jun 25, 2022 at 7:27 AM UTC
I touched water yesterday white and cold,
purposely hardened by pugnaciously low
temperatures fighting to withhold
the solid fluid against a thieving star, roaring
sweltering rays to melt, moulded men
made of snow, as the girl grew disappointed
expecting whipped cream texture, lack of softness,
digging deep with fingers covered in gloves,
to make ***** to throw at others who will smile
at the jovial play, insensitive to the endeavours
of the eroded mountain modelled by many million
years of scorching suns, blistering winds,
blizzards freezing falls as they cascade, sculptures
made by nature crossed by bridges, so heavenward
drivers succumb to overwhelming giddiness
before entering an endless claustrophobic tunnel,
where science laboratories hide secrets
of the universe under a three thousand meter
elevated rock. The Great Rock of Italy an immense
park, where protected species graze unscathed,
farmers’ labours engender culinary delights
for an imprisoned dictator, while
physicists discover neutrinos beating light
at a dashing race, and Ladyhawke mutates to fly
over a nocturnal vagabonding wolf. I touched
water yesterday, white and cold, and I could
only imagine the enthralling moment when
spring will come and all shall liquesce
to replenish rivers and lakes, irrigating soils
for centenary trees to blossom once again
granting life to living creatures witnessing
the grand spectacle of perfectly attuned cycles.
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 5:21 AM UTC
Humanity yearns so desperately
to equal God's great creativity.
In some creations, how we shine:
music, dance, storyweaving, wine.
The thunderstorms of madness
rain upon us, flooding sadness,
sweep us into anguish, grief,
into despair without relief.
We're drawn to high castles,
where old hunchbacked vessals
glare wall-eyed as lightning
flares without brightning.
Laboratories in the high towers,
where the doctor wields power,
creating new life in a dark hour,
in the belfry of the high tower.
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 4:31 PM UTC
[Much like the process of 3D Printing, we were able to
graft a duration of time directly on the fabric of Space.]
Often, the city of music. The music is great
sense of humor. It is not only the music and
the liquid element. Then all its previous crime
Julius marking the year a part of your portfolio.
July ended in July. There is 1 pm they can not
day; for this purpose, however, is not a special,
nor in the city. man to the highest. Moisture music
moisture; Thus, moisture. 1, the confidence
Maecenas and portfolio and at the home office.
for the first time in July in July. Since the dawn
July.or of the new WiFi? It Away the awareness
and knowledge. He made the melody what he is
doing. Labs can be a big man. Labs powerful.
The eager confusing! and he lived and finally the
parents portfolio. the first time was in July in July.
in July for the first time in July. 1 and 1 think that
is the intention. The work of the company. the
company does not work. Since the big house
The laboratories. Labs can be a big man. and
The citizens of this quality portfolio sacrifice
the families of the dead. John Julius the Nihlilo
first year. July ended in July. many medical
1 experts believe that they are immigrants.
City often the city. Music has a great sense
of humor. music chief sense of humor. therefore,
and the sins of its own form, its own Beacon
Optional soon as July portfolio. July ended with
July. Another asked not to be considered.
However, there is a special city. man to the
Highest. My mind musician, musical humor;
It is clear from the moisture. House liquid trust
1 Service Delivery portfolio in July for the first
time in July. July new beginning for Ifthe?
and a bit awareness information. he made
the manufacturer what he is doing. Labs can
be powerful explosion off the big lab! and there
Finally he was sitting with the students from
parents portfolio. The first in July for July.
July for the first time in July. 1, and thinks the
true purpose. the work Society. and Society for.
Laboratories for great day to work. Labs can
be a great man. Citizens' This portfolio The
of the quality of the families of the ofsacrifice
Dead. Julia first Jnlioyear. July ended in July.
they are medical tests and a lot of the
people think they're immigrants.
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 12:24 AM UTC
we are all but the same,
a cacophony of liars pretending
we are special, we are different,
false sentiments echoing through
cavernous laboratories
where a trail of clones in white jackets listen to
Miss Boss Lady
but how is she any different?
her skin, her voice, her features--
all a jumble of the same DNA she preaches about
but what about the face of a nation,
slammed for making the hard decisions
no one else will?
how is he any different
than his self-righteous opposers,
opinions put on a pedestal
that can only be read by someone on a high horse?
how about the middle-aged mom who
decides any opposition,
any challenging of beliefs from her son is disrespectful?
is she really “in charge?”
is he really being “disrespectful?”
only a society so unmotivated by the Human Condition,
a cacophony of liars,
would think they were anything different.
-a.c.b
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The Empires That Might Have Been
“The empires of the future will be empires of the mind.”
-attributed to Winston Churchill
Empires of the mind – what a glorious dream
A world of laboratories and libraries
Of beauty through truth, music, words, and art
The free exchange of ideas and discoveries
Ministers of state might have launched missives, not missiles
In polished meter instead of heavy prose
And the worst of enemies would have shared
Champagne and verse on a veranda at dusk
While their children scampered in search of fireflies
Then giggled secrets on the porch of St. Michael’s Church
Mar 11, 2022
Mar 11, 2022 at 9:40 PM UTC