"mammalia" poems
we are monsters
from the boutique to the
embroidered throw pillows the
pen dashed around the neck
stage 5 bone cut
sawing ossification to the
hollow core
we are monsters
hooting in tunnels lined
with bats coming out to feast
creation
to scrape the streets
shimmy the walls
bust the coffin and
succckk
we are monsters
who can't enter under the
doorframe
fearful of being burned by
the sun silver stake
rat poison holy water sickle
and windmill ash
we are monsters
sewed stapled dead meat
skin hair plugs ceramic
teeth tested and tasted by
rats
we are monsters
jumping high over white
fences frenzied explosion
running through corn
angrily bled in a field shot and
hunted like embarrassing
waterfowl in the jaws of
mammalia
we are monsters
of flaming brilliance flashing
in your inbox
read us and gnaw
braised
roasted
grilled limbs
watch
as we watch you
be scared and
stab
I promise we don't die.
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
Thousands of years I have lived
And now I feel like little bacteria
My heart is filled with pores
And people call it ostia
The night's are glazing with pleurobranchia
And thank God I didn't get ******* hemiplegia
Solitary I feel in my animal kingdom
I wish I could do something with my boredom.
How amazing are these euplectellian shrimps
Dieing together imprisoned
Symptoms of true love they show to me
Together up to death they are known to be.
Maybe I am the class imperfecta
But by birth I am a mammalia
I wish we could both be mycorrhiza
And get hallucinated with amanita.
Someday we would make a synapse
And get into the love with mitochondria
And there our nervous system stops
And there the impulse will walk .
No special organelles I have
I'm just 70s ribosome
My heart is incipient
With foldings of mesosome
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 4:41 AM UTC
What is the meaning of Life?
Does that not state there is in fact a meaning to our lives? Are we not conceived with a blank slate and let our actions be guided by the environment we have become accustomed to or is there a true predestined meaning to our lives? Is it neither? We are nothing more than what we are and nothing less than what we are not.
What is my purpose?
Purposelessness.
What is God?
God is what leads me in the direction that I am heading and keeps me away from where I have not gone. God is not in the endless skies watching my every action. God does not know me. I don’t know God. God is not a being. God is not energy. God is not matter; God is not made of protons, neutrons, electrons or photons. God exists. We made God exist. We also made God disappear.
What is reality?
The tangible and physical perceptions that we have keep in our memories. As soon as we forget, reality disintegrates. When we remember, reality regenerates. Reality is not constant.
Why am I here?
Spontaneity
How did I get here?
I managed to avoid every other place than where I am. If I averted where I am now I would be someplace else. I would be any place else. Am I happy? Yes. Am I upset? Yes. This experience is beautiful yet full of dismay and I experience comfort but sorrow for only being able to experience a small sliver of the universe. But this is my sliver of the universe. I love this sliver of the universe and I would fight to the death to save this tiny space for anybody else to experience existence the way I do.
Who and What am I?
I am human, **** sapient, **** hominine, hominid, primate, Mammalia, Chordate, and Animal. I am an Earthling from the Milky Way. I am what I am labeled, by others and by myself. I am defined by everything I am not and I change every day. I am not constant.
What will happen when I die?
Transcendence from existence; Appearance into eternal rest. My body will provide nutrients to the world, my memories will be lost. I will no longer be, except in the minds of those who knew me and in the evidence I leave behind. I’ll be lost forever, the evidence will soon disappear. I will be over, the universe will go on. That’s all I could ever ask for.
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 9:40 PM UTC
May 27, 2013
I let it take control of my mind. Disappearing in a mist of haze; wandering for days. Searching. Seeking. Finding. Fitting into my piece, so I could spread amongst the rest. So I could fit and be apart of it: the Great Mystery. Truth. So I can understand the meaning of life. Is my path determined? Do I have free will? Can I escape this? All I know is that everything is connected. Earth is a single component; a mere microscopic portion of the entire universe, which is compromised of more than the human mind can understand at this point in time.
A little stardust.
How is it possible that less than five percent of our oceans have been discovered? Are we ignorant to the fact that when earth started experiencing life, it was in the depths of the ocean. Hence, all production of landscape, the animal kingdom, primitive and current **** sapiens, technology, advancement, and discovery of our past is a creation from the sea billions of years ago. Everything on earth is composed of gasses that came from the universe: what simplistic thinking.
Humans fighting against humans, to taste eachothers blood in the name of “victory”, a game to exploit and prevent eachother form an equalized entirety. When will all work towards progress, instead of the demise of the "other". When will we realize our brothers and sisters are not our enemies. How connected the human race is as a species;
does anyone realize?
Class Mammalia, which consists of over 5000 species, is a single group of the animal kingdom, yet humans are classified by each other on basis a of enhanced melanin, and physical traits. Do dogs laugh at us? Ah, I used the term race and everyone decides to think it means colour, or some stupid stereotype!
what have we come to?
When will we reach our heads out of our ***** and realize what surrounds and encompasses us as a whole? A consistent river that flows with time, shining mortality by with plenty adventures, constantly writhing. No control. Like I am a mere droplet in the ocean, licking the coastline, bathing in the sunlight. Creating, and being created.
Its amazing isn’t it?
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
As you study zoology further you will come to relearn that veins bring blood back to the lungs,
Across the kingdom animalia & a few others including Aves & Reptilia, Mammalia & Chordata,
From lungs the re-oxygenated blood is re-pumped around the body by our rhythmic heartbeats.
In my body it's a bit different I guess, yes it's different!
Your name has crept up my veins and I just feel your Kreepy name sounding with every heartbeat.
:)
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 6:24 AM UTC
Routines are the mind's way of playing tricks on you.
And when you reach a point of breaking, a point of severe uncontrollable emotional damage,
The damage, of course, inflicted upon you by yourself,
Will suffocate you and in the process, proceed to shove you against a wall without any last words.
And in that moment, you feel like crying,
But you know, that there is no point in crying anymore.
There is no point in pondering, no point in asking, "why?"
You will find that you, yourself are nothing but a mere fraction of the mammalia kingdom,
With nothing but processed emotions, fake attitudes, controversial peers, and material objects that mean absolutely nothing to the outside observer.
You are nothing but a stupid monkey with "designer" fashion,
Nothing but a human with this bizarre concept of love that masks the lust you feel deep in the night as you crave someone's arms around your broken body.
You are nothing but a victim to life and all of life's offerings.
I am nothing.
I am minuscule.
I am a victim to society,
A victim to pop culture,
A victim to perfection,
A victim to succeed,
A victim to wealth and prosperity,
A victim to living in its own,
But most importantly, I am a victim to my own mind.
And that, I feel, is the single most cruel thing that could possibly happen to myself.
There is no point in success without a driving force pushing you to succeed,
And if I were granted success with no specific driving force then why should I be granted it?
If I worked for hours just scraping the surface of some magical discovery only to be brought down with negative feedback,
Why do I fail?
Why do I fail constantly?
Why do I tell myself that I am smart when I do nothing to prove so?
I am nothing but a victim to my own mind,
And the only escape is to die.
I am nothing.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC
The white goddess is still an early age
The city was like hanging verdant technology.
Antorum ends moves seipsum of large sums of money.
In beauty there are the countries of Latin America
Sea of the great part of gold.
The future finds hell in a clone.
Star Wars College and Mammalia
To draw Close to his wife's village: the children, they call him
Puck said live female carrots
American thinking about the six posts.
Baby moon of fractured poets.
Door converted to gold and parietem pictum.
The open hands of numerum girl are from the yellow Igor.
The audience in England heard a drunken drink
his father on foot: full of evil
Three of those in the Greek natus
Public domain of fraud and living waters, and
And the wild beast of the star and that's how it was.
The shape of the jellyfish, this stone.
And for the kids, I walk a little.
Perseus with a law the sky dictumentum Velitusce euismoduat
Metallum of the most beautiful when he left politics.
From the figure of woman wearing multicolored dresses.
Barbie is writing the most delicate strings.
Delights and hating
Those of an exuvial criticism. The guys are Guy.
in the past captured trigger of the oris excisis,
and a part of the art of wanting to maintain
shameless feelings memories of incolis atrocities of Hunger
A voice of kisses
White goddess remains a young age
the city was like hanging Green Technology
Before moving large sums of money
Beauty is in the Latin American countries
much of the golden sea
in the future find a hell of *****
Star Wars College and Blood
to draw close to the village of his wife, the kids, they call it
Puck said live female hair carrots
American thinking about the six seats
Moon of poets fractured baby
Door turned into gold and cool
Open hands of the girl's name is Igor yellow
England hearing heard a drink is drunk
walk from his father, full of ***** badly
Three of the sound to the Greeks
from the public and with the running water, and
And the wild beast of the star and thus it was
The manner of the Medusa, this stone shall
1 and for the children to walk a little
Write a bill with the Sky
the brass of all and the most beautiful when left in the
Woman figure wear multicolored dresses
Barbie is writing the more delicate chains
delight to hate
One of the critical moment, the guys Guy is
the wall of the captured trigger at last,
and wishes to keep a part of the art of
Shameless feelings of hunger's atrocities
A voice with kisses
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 10:54 PM UTC
A hunger indeed is a hungry tiger in need, Wait! An indenture in my soul speaks in desire, so its an incrementation from Mammalia Justice League , for punishment in this in intolerable act we are served to read 3 years of children's rhymes, only on rice milk and Nut loaf.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
When a child asks you questions
While they are learning of this world
Never anwser them directly
Instead help them to test personally
To understand and see
This is logic!
Michanics, mathematics and reason.
But soon
They will find themselves privy to treasons
Liers and cheats mix with fools in deceit
With the tools of logic this is plan be seen
You must teach them the art of rhetoric
To stop those who would just cause havoc
For if the wise are Ill equipped
Our idiots will face the whip
Believing they deserve of it
The human beaten out of them
The monsters spawned left free to swim
Let this warning full sink in
For next my kin comes academ
The weight of fate!
In the hands of mammalia
To come up to speed
In the fridge of ideas
There you may study
Above all the turnery
To lift up our people
In rightness and honesty
Solving lifes problems
Improving its quality
For all who have yet to come
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 8:54 PM UTC
Welded 7 tomes and wrapped sacrament paper about the very thing; Somer tomes,
soldered to sacrifice and daylight running as
mercury off of adam’s bones honed to a south American river peak; Invenerate mammalia rollicking atop
she shocked herself to see another sun light in the blinds.;
He mended caverns and she hung across them, strung out.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 9:19 AM UTC
Screaming, Lord cut the moon’s craters
Feasts of Saturnalia
A Christian cradle rocked by star lit satyrs
Hominidae, Chordata, Angelus Mammalia
The bough broke, blood crescent in
Declination
First steps stir the Ocean of Storms
Frankincense, Myrrh,
And Damnation
So sung are hymns, harvested lullabies,
Libations
Time, the Christ teeters as a top
Narration
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 12:27 PM UTC