"labs" poems
Collab, collab! Oh thoughtful collabs!
Amalgamation of two unique minds,
Merging of dual thinking labs!
Cerebral workshop of life's diverse grinds!
Collab, collab! Reinforced true!
Melding of minds and honed crafts,
Mounted up with bolt and *****
Assembled solid in monochromed poetic drafts.
Collab, collab! A trend that's trending!
A fad that now seems ever growing...
Each other's style we will be wearing.
Matching ensembles, yours for the liking.
Collab, collab! More of it please!
Ocean of creativity, pearls ripe for picking,
Journey for two across artistic seas.
Wonder who with next I'll be swimming...
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 2:03 PM UTC
I have longed for this year since fourth grade
When I learned what a val-e-dic-tor-ian was
And realized I wanted to be one.
I have longed for this year since I was fifteen
And wanted to leave home
Go out and explore the bigger world
Free of parents and noisy siblings.
I have longed for this year since my first college tour
And I saw the hubbub
The libraries, the labs, the dorms, the giant sweatshirts
And noticed how small and quiet my high school was.
We picked out caps and gowns
Red
We lead the pep rallies now
The loudest yet
We're taking physics, and calculus, and the SATs
Feeling scholarly
We picked out how our names appear on our diplomas
First M. Last
We have our licenses
Drive to school
We fill out college applications endlessly
And endlessly...
We picked our prom theme
Great Gatsby
We're getting lazy very quickly
Senioritis
Graduation keeps us going
Graduation is the goal
Graduation is the light at the end of the tunnel
Graduation in June
Graduation in red polyester
Graduation in the sun
Graduation is the end
But wait.
Hold up.
Stop.
Stop.
STOP!
Seven more months with you?
You, who I've stared at for four years?
You, whose smiles make my day?
You, whose face I look for in crowds?
You, who are the most amazing person I've ever met?
You, who I haven't even asked out?
You, who have no idea who I feel?
You, who might by some miracle possibly feel the same way?
You, who I'll regret never making a move with for the rest of my life?
You?
Seven. Months.?
HOLD UP SENIOR YEAR SLOW DOWN GRADUATION THERE'S A BOY.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC
My abode was not built by my own two hands
It was erected by the noble hands of labs, in the 1920s
I make caffeined, bitter black water for the over worked businessman: who pushes arrogance
so that I may sleep
My time spent manifests itself into red norishment
from a white-light shuttle
free of breathable sunlight but abundant of it in edible from
There are stickers on my apples
trees tattooed with chemicals
that find themselves everywhere
plastic freckles on the trunks of their mothers
or returning into plastic fossils
Embraced by the place in which it came
Stickers on Apples:
so much effort for something
so
sweetly
simple
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 10:08 PM UTC
Skimming through the water, like a bird on wing.
Feeling the currents flowing, water spilling along my flanks.
Surging into the deep sea, searching for sunken ships,
Lost treasures to those above, merely decrepit scenery below.
Perhaps, more, to the sealife that shelters there.
This fantastic ability, to relate to earth's final mysteries in the deep.
Granted me, through a fluke of nature, gills filtering,
Scales protecting, tail and fins propelling forward
To ever deeper realms.
Hardly noticing the increasing pressures
Feeling tides pulling, seeing unfathomed sea creatures.
Appreciating the beauty and the power of the deep sea.
Triton may reside here, only stories to those above.
But the mysterious, deepness of this realm, begs belief in other gods.
Continuous exploration of this vast world,
Only brings me a small portion of its bounty.
Birth, life, death, cycling forever.
Brilliant design of creatures and systems,
Only glimpsed from above.
Denied to those who seek to categorize and quantify.
Life is not averages, statistics, and clinical review.
Being judged in labs by coated strangers.
Life indeed is deep, resounding, complex in every detail.
Microcosms of universes existing in harmony
Beneath waves brushing the sky.
Oct 10, 2010
Oct 10, 2010 at 8:55 PM UTC
nature's remedies
boost Spring-time stem-cell research--
bladders grown in labs
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 11:56 PM UTC
You can only spend so many hours in labs, study groups and classrooms - under relentless, fluorescent lighting - before you start feeling life withdrawal.
When I hit that stresshold, I need to rebalance myself.
I could go to the New Haven harbor - I find the ocean endlessly relaxing - or for a quick fix, I can always rely on the warmth of multicolored product packaging.
For the last one, a grocery store will do. I’ll walk the bright, prismatic cereal aisle, and run my finger gently along the gratuitous, rainbowed variety of selections.
It’s a soothing gesture that I repeat several times. A reminder that there are still beautiful, shiny things out there, on demand, in the uncomplicated, non-academic world.
Feb 26, 2024
Feb 26, 2024 at 11:22 AM UTC
In little over two years
I have had more scans
Than a supermarket checkout
There is more of my blood in path labs
Than I have in my body
I've had nasty painful biopsies
Things up my **** and cameras down my neck
There have been countless appointments
At four different hospitals
As well as being hospitalised five times
Including one minor operation
And two major ones
I now have ******* up kidneys
Veins like ropes and arms like Twiglets
And more scars
Than a bad knife-throwers assistant
But what the hell !
I'm still growing old disgracefully
HA !!
By Phil Roberts
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 4:41 AM UTC
Buzz, buzz, buzz
The fly says as it circulates
Around the congested classroom
The sound of pencil to paper
As art is created on the
Corners of failed labs and late assignments
Breathe in the soft pink flakes
Of your neighbors easer
That tickles your nose
And makes you cough
Hear the tapping of a pen
At the edge of a desk
As you silently beg for the teacher
To notice and cease it
Feet shuffle and bags are grabbed
In anticipation of the
Bell
s.a.m.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
I passed six Targets on my way there
a Lake was my goal, the best of the Bay area
I also passed Lawrence Livermore Labs named after one of the fathers
of the bomb
and I drove on, the pool was filling up quick
not with swimmers, but a flea market of vendors
a lady dressed in her own wares, rags sown toegther
So I thought I'd take my chances on the wild waters of Livermore Del Valle
I arrived and offended a ranger when I didn't believe the stuffed cougar
died of natural causes, there are only twelve left in the Bay Area
but that was 2008. I couldn't take my eyes off it, the fur falling off
it was dead,
The ranger was sure I'd get run over by a boat
I could tell he had me already pegged for dead
So I went North, and walked on the trail and waded in
and it was green and murky just like the last one
and there were fake waves, made by boats going way too fast
and people fishing everywhere
waiting patiently, boxes full of wares
and boats for rent, guys all around
and the sun was going down and a little girl and her mom
fishing practically on the sidewalk, or the lawn
started yelling, something on the other end of the line
and a huge guy helped them pull out the squirming dieing thing
and drop it on the ground, now covered in dirt
And a group of guys with their mouths open wide said
"It's a cat fish. So much for the boat."
And that was funny I guess, like the Dad who couldn't get the kids
to come out of the lake until he said "we're gong to do the cake"
But I went back to my car feeling sad
for the poor fish, lying there, dead
and I thought, I'll delete that fisherman guy online instead
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 11:44 PM UTC
A map of love:
I take metro link to work everyday
To witness the short journey of the white death
You could see it on their faces , the look of the dark
mask of Magnanimity, the uneven tones,
The beeping sounds of the feeding tubes,
attachments so faulty, so unethical which
does more harm than good
Where doctors in Denim jeans and white labs coats, says
“There is nothing else we can do"
When I visualize for the joy: its triggers happier moments
My family outings, the smiles, the laughter and the togetherness
And most of all my Vegas slots game machines
Whatever, it takes for me to make it through the days.
These memories I will always cherish them
I truly missed my younger days,
I want my daughters to experience the joy of life
Before settling for this kind of modern map of love,
at one point in your life you were the life of the party.
Death is the end of all men
,
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC
you are a lab rat,
dancing in their labs,
through you they *** to conclusions.
You turn them from ***** to holy,
Every morning they turn saint.
It's sad how you have turned a naked god,
Cleaning possessed men.
Immoral lab experiments
Men are tresh.
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 4:48 AM UTC
The doctor arrived—
A man whose life path is marked by six and framed by fame.
He stood beside the ambassador; together, they spoke,
Two minds aligned, two hands that shook,
Making change, shaping peace—
Turning tides, setting chaos at ease.
Things are not always what they seem,
But the world is shifting toward a brighter dream.
The Sixteen rise, striking north,
And inflation whispers, ready to burst forth.
Prices climb and fall in waves,
As karma spins the globe,
Draped in chaos,
Crowned with consequence.
A revelation brews at the edge of dawn—
The horseman of famine already rides on.
The world bends low, down on its knees,
Shaken by that unseen thing,
The thing that makes you sneeze.
The doctor kindles interest in your mind,
Igniting purpose you were meant to find.
A man stands strong against the bully’s might,
A student guided by the blue Star of Light—
Deporting her back to her home country.
The Jewish flame that guards from far, the Jewish student a symbol shining like a star earning his degrees.
The expensive campus.
With hearts of love, we join as one,
To fix what’s broken, to get things done.
We thrive, we hold, we build, we trade—
In unity, progress is made.
No sorrow here, no tale of doom—
Only rising hope that clears the gloom.
The hands of power now seek to grow,
To nurture, to build, to learn and know.
AI flows through every stream—
Testing like an scientist,
The Engineer that needs fuel,
The Generator,
The labs, in trials, in future dreams.
Testing minds, reshaping norms,
Through every breakthrough, every storm.
New friends arise across the land,
Lending wisdom, lending hand.
Development deepens, bonds renew,
As funding helps our visions come true.
Some moments brief, some gains may fade,
But more is born from what is made.
A sign above—Seraphim align—
Their wings outstretched across divine.
Together we rise, together we strive,
To make this world not just survive,
But thrive in hope, in light, in grace—
A better future, a better place.
Apr 5, 2025
Apr 5, 2025 at 4:29 AM UTC
I met a friendly woman at the college,
She sat in the entrance gallery west of the labs.
I said, "Hello, may I know your identity," with a smile,
And her lips spread to a mile.
She said, "Hello, I'm here on my job,"
Little did I know that blowing was her job.
Anyway, I started telling her about myself,
And as a loner with an infrequent *****
I respect and I know myself a lot.
When she sat in rapt attention for me,
Listening to my breath between the words,
And my gaze often slid down her face.
There they sat elegantly and imposingly,
Two cute babies, a picture of them, actually,
In a picture printed on the ***** of her shirt,
And I asked about them curiously.
She said, "They are my nephew and niece,"
"Both are twins and each weighs 7 kilograms,"
And looked for validation, "Aren't they both so nice?"
I nodded in agreement saying, "Definitely,"
And I continued, "I want to play with them both."
She said, "I know that you fell in love with them,"
Now she continued with another broad smile,
"You are welcome to play with both of them,"
I asked, "Are they with you?"
She laughed shortly and said,
"They always remain with me."
Puzzled, I said, "What?"
My jaw remained hung open in astonishment.
She put her finger under my chin,
Then shut my mouth to say,
"Don't act like an innocent kid,"
And she continued,
"I like you, and I want you,
Come in the morning,
We'll have a lot of fun,
And I'll blow my favourite toy,
Before both of us go for a movie."
May 9, 2024
May 9, 2024 at 7:45 AM UTC
I find organic to be fun
Becuase there's a cute boy in my class
And I always have to be careful
Not to stare at that ***
And my train of thought
Just seems to get lost
Between ionization of electrons
And very ***** thoughts.
I'm always trying to focus
With my very best effort
On the professor and lecture
My answers are always cohort.
When I get called on
The answers slip out
I'm never all there
But I never have to doubt.
I know they're right
It's all in my head
So bursting with facts
A plethora of premed
That's exactly why
I never have time
To ponder emotions
Or cry and whine.
I've got equations to solve
And solutions to mix
I've got labs to write up
And patients to fix.
So while I may like a boy
I know it'll never work
I'm emotionally bankrupt
And he'll take me for a ****
Because I wont talk feelings
I've got anatomy to memorize instead
And I wont have time for long dates
Because I'll be studying or in bed.
So I wont ask for his time
Because I haven't any to return
I don't have any to give away
No free minutes to burn.
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 1:03 PM UTC
This human I’ve adopted
at first seemed rather sad.
Her meals were all unhappy
in Golden Arches paper bags.
She seemed so sad and listless.
She lacked a vital spark.
That is until I convinced her
to go walking in the park.
I next began to teach her ”fetch”-
it became her favorite game
Her arm grew strong with every pitch.
She was really glad we came..
At dusk we’d walk the promenade
to watch the sun go down.
I’ve got her trained to buy for me
the finest puppy chow.
(It’s gotten so she reads my mind
without me saying “Bow”)
Yet recently I grew concerned-
she’s taken in a stray.
I think she said his name is Dave
and they hope to wed one day.
They say they both love chocolate Labs
that I brought them together.
I guess walking in that park
wasn’t altogether clever.
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 10:44 PM UTC
This useless meat sack. I am the thing watching behind the eyes of this empty meat sack. I am the one piloting this sausage of a body, directing it to walk, talk, smile.
Sometimes I wish that I could reach into my chest and tear it open. I want to rip and tear and slice past the epidermis, watch the white fatty cells and veins and arteries moving. I want to see white, bone-white, a cage for my useless heart. Watch my heart pump like those sheep hearts we used to dissect in science. I remember how they looked, white fat clinging like ivy, and greying in the cool room of the labs. Nothing but a cold, clammy lump of flesh. Maybe death smells like the butchers. Like bleach that can’t cover the festering smell of rot and ammonia.
I’m heavy on my ankles. I remember the last time I starved, and I felt as if I could fly, balanced on my tip-toes, poised to fall. And maybe falling felt just as good.
It’s so unbearably soft. My chest, my arms. I can feel my cheek meat. Fat on bones. Scrape it out with a spoon like pork cheeks, soft, tender, delicious.
A chrysalis. A cut-out, a hollow man wearing hollow shoes doing hollow things. How did that pupa feel, I wonder, trapped in darkness? No way out but forward. The growing pains, tendons and bones and muscles warping. Twisting and crawling but transforming, little by little. Into what, you can’t possibly imagine. The uncertainty, it’s almost as bad as the darkness. No change even when you open your eyes, like colours have frozen into little dizzying pixels. You can’t stop, but do you want to? On the precipice between weakness and a terrifying something else, what can you be but monstrous? Not one or the other but neither.
What are you turning into? A butterfly? A monster? Neither?
You can’t stop.
Dec 30, 2021
Dec 30, 2021 at 2:39 AM UTC
Has this become my life?
Writing poems that few people take their time to read
Looking at the walls, windows, and shadows hoping to see light
Waiting to have a social life again
Has this become my life?
Waiting anxiously for a friend to call or text
Knowing that I can only count them with one hand
One hand because there are restrictions set upon my life
Has this become my life?
Talking to thyself in the middle of the living room
Listening to music and thinking of what could have been
Looking at thyself in the mirror and controling the tears
Painting my face with no ocation just because I'm bored
Has this become my life?
Overthinking each past situation
Realizing every mistake with agony
Looking at the sky and screaming why
Has this become my life?
Whispering to myself that it's all gonna be okay
Meanwhile listening to others enjoying the outside
Trying to be better in a bubble
Being judged by every single present mistake or action
Has this become my life?
Being the center of attention at home
Driving to doctors here and there, there and here
Getting labs done every once in a while
Has this become my life?
My entire future lying in the hands of others
Proffessionals determining which pills I should pop
Parents restricting my social life
Listening to every opinion of what I should do with my life
Has this become my life?
Bursting into tears in my mothers arms
Accepting only professionals and mom to unburden me
Denying help from others because the anger exceeds the forgivenes
Has this become my life?
YES.
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 9:05 PM UTC
Burdened in the cool resentment, of self betterment, hesitant, in its clause, licking pennies from the paws of wolfs, misunderstood and no good in the laws of men, force me on the bench again, and expect to lessen, the sentence, of the commitments pushed to the petal in the proprietary pustules of must haves, postulated from rehabs, of labs and rats, stabbed with needles and smacked, when i doze off, I'm going to go off, like a bomb in class, painting the blast in a bright flash, of mmy baaads.
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 4:33 AM UTC
"I saw what it does to people," you said
with a mixture of disdain and disgust like
you were talking about **** addicts before
and after pictures.
"I hate girlfriends," you said to me after you told me
we weren't going out on Valentines Day because your
ex set you up with someone else and you "have to" go
and who is afraid of Berkeley and all those new idee-ers
The vegan restaurants with rice milk whipped cream
The pleasant outdoor cafes with people learning, studying
the only "Ivy League" public University...
All those things there to open your mind and make you
think differently and you may begin to believe in Global Warming
and even though you don't, those thoughts may haunt you
but I know there are scientists working in labs all over the world trying
to figure out what to do about it ...
Socialism, you are afraid of that too
but what is it when Walmart hands out an application
for public healthcare to all their new hires
since they will never be able to afford their own
and Walmart can't share any money on their behalf
In the Netherlands, mink farms have been outlawed
yet you like to dissect them in your class and
carry around the poor dead skinless creature in
a clear plastic bag around the school
and many of those places prefer to pay the fees
and citations of skinning the animals alive rather than
pay to **** them before skinning
why doesn't that bother you?
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 12:54 PM UTC
[Bilex]
Giovanni on the edge of the window,
have a bad fall; Glory for children; Most violence
is from the love of reading in the Senate;
This is the best partner. you are the one who came
to help; guard, I did not want to burn with joy;
This is my first time around the world and Sports -
Sky Box and Albatross Compatibility,
cups of wine and cognac. or; Radio Wedding
But the wedding. Some of my assignments. All words
Why it is not. and find out how; Read a book on
Wall Street where you can buy a product. other
Restart the application, restart it, in addition.
The radio will be here. take care of it.
And the best way to do that is to Rest. More points
on my own. It is a. Memorial 1, like John Rose;
Perhaps Pavol was the author of radio waves. radio
Wedding Vincebus Water. if you are forbidden
I do not think why - love. I do not know thousands
of people; But it's ready for the winter
temperature of the whole affiliate business
bridge. Alcohol and cups in boxes. or; wedding
ceremony on the radio; Is that so
It seems like it's time for seniors.
If the caretakers have eyes, you will know
all the words. Where education is; New Wall Street
Dutch artist - rich fish - the best house;
even a black ball. Which is the best way
to get more and more of the other
does not. own materials - and Eli stepped
out of the radio. Where iam I n one place about myself?
color; Let's look in the mirror
left, 4 g 2; Female artist and John Rose
in a dark spot in England,
San Pablo-Fb. With radio waves. Radio.
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 5:50 AM UTC
Mr Monsanto has a monopoly on the GMO market
his products fill many agriculturist's baskets
there harmful affects have been well documented
the damage they're causing can be circumvented
those men and women who work the land
can deal Mr Monsanto a crook poker hand
discontinue buying his bad chemical sprays
recommence those old pest controlling ways
he's been making big profits from the stuff that he sells
it is time for the agriculturists to hear the alarm bells
he's had the ear of the administration for too long
and it has always listened to the pitch of his song
Mr Monsanto keeps telling the world that his products are fab
but he never mentions a thing about adverse discoveries in science labs
the people are becoming informed on the land
they're waking up to the unsafeness of his brand
the public will not abide Mr Monsanto's crap
they know when a dodgy product has landed in their laps
cancer causing agents in cornmeal
this sort of thing doesn't make for edible appeal
big companies like Mr Monsanto might like to explain themselves
and enlighten us as to why his purulent stuff is on market shelves
behind his fortress walls he hides a folio of dross
uncovering it would ensure his company ran at a loss
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 10:06 AM UTC
But one day when futures are bright
And school children dress in Sunday best
Great Machines will rise above the smoke
Great Buildings will rise above the smog
Great Minds will remain buried deep in humming labs
Scientist and machines
Gears and cogs
Rusting in the fluorescent
Glow
Of progress
Boys will
Girls will
Fight the good fight
Of human being
The Kissing on each other
The Drugging with each other
Afternoons and jumped fences
Just to feel each others secrets
Boys will
Girls will
Be just as wrong
And just as bad
And will grow to say
Good boys and Good Girls Never do those things
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 4:30 AM UTC
ప్రకాశం లో sri prakash మల్లే
ప్రశాంతమైన వాతావరణం లోనే
ప్రదీపాల్లా వెలిగామే.
నాలుగు వర్షాలు వనవాసాలే
నలు వైపులా పుర్తయ్యాయే
నవ లోకానికే ఇది శ్రీకారమే .
మాటలు వేరైనా. . .ప్రాంతాలు వేరైనా. . .అలవాట్లు వేరైనా. . .
విహంగాలుగా విహరించామే ఇన్నాళ్ళు ఈ చోటా . .
తర తరాలా కదల మళ్లీ ముందుకే వచ్చింది రా
వీడ్కోలు అంటూ walkout చేయాలే . .
అనుభవాలనే పంచేస్తూ జ్ఞానాన్నే అందించిన పండితులనుంచి sendoff తీసుకోవాలా. .
పూర్తైన పాఠం లా చివరాకరికే వచ్చేసాము
labs అంటూ తిరిగమే project అంటూ వెలుతున్నామే . .
కలిసుండే కలం అంతా కరిగిపోయింది
కష్టం ఉన్నా సరే ఇష్టం గా స్వికరించాలే .
I am missing my college
SRI PRAKASH COLLEGE OF ENGINEERING
Apr 20, 2012
Apr 20, 2012 at 2:56 AM UTC
In little over two years
I have had more scans
Than a supermarket checkout
There is more of my blood in path labs
Than I have in my body
I've had nasty painful biopsies
Things up my **** and cameras down my neck
There have been countless appointments
At four different hospitals
As well as being hospitalised five times
Including one minor operation
And two major ones
I now have ******* up kidneys
Veins like ropes and arms like Twiglets
And more scars
Than a bad knife-throwers assistant
But what the hell !
I'm still growing old disgracefully
HA !!
By Phil Roberts
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 1:52 AM UTC