"microbes" poems
im a self describing a self
a face on a liquid surface
a plasticity
a brain
a three pound infinity
always remodeling itself
and making new copies
a copy
of
a copy
of
a copy
a massive accumulation of copies
each a slight distortion
from it's original eminence
a history of minute alterations
all subtle deceptions
my so-called reality
a memory
of
a memory
of
a memory
a repetition pouring the self out
self corrupting the self
until it is somebody else
a fibbing shifty double-dealing soft machine
trying to remain intact
it's signature
a disjunctured awareness
my cells talk **** about each other
i'm more microbes than human
every synaptic light of the divine casting a shadowed past
a devil to the true origin
a mangled remembering
my pillar of reality
spirit from matter
not the other way around
i no longer recognize myself
am i human
or perhaps a robot
an alien
a walk in
that left the original inhabitant
disembodied
to wander perplexed in a netherworld
lost and crying
or, just a bad copy
of
a copy
of
a copy
of
a co
py
of
a
a
co
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 2:46 PM UTC
multimedia macramé
sloshing propaganda sewage
on the unsuspecting public
***** lice infest ****** hill folk
west Virginia outbreak threatening the world
as we know it
flesh altering nonsense explicitly graphed
charting movement of microbes
on air, land, and/ or sea
global currents the new deliverer of death –
infected immigrants sit smiling
internment camps providing nutrition
never before experienced
as non-natives negotiate freedom
by submitting to vaccinations baths
and the standard delousing powder –
paranoid hand-sanitizer users
glued to the **** tube
spray their shoes with disinfectant
praying to an absent GOD for health
while shoveling GMO corn chips into ever widening
mouth holes
pharmaceutical companies lick lifeless lips
as Congress recognizes their humanity
while rejecting the concerns of the poor
…..no money in it –
outlandish claims of outbreaking Ebola
flood the mainstream outlets
fear: version – infinity
one more plague plan to stimulate new legislation
more law
no touching
even looking at the infirm can be cause for isolation
radiation treatments
courtesy of Fukushima, reactors 1-4 –
new found focus on fracturing the shale
releasing new oil reserves
and old bacteria
dinosaur killers
free-radicals
radically changing the genetic code
humanity altered
once again –
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 12:16 PM UTC
The smallest microbes cause a fit,
in misery it dwells.
It starts with sniffs and then a sneeze
then sinus membranes swell.
My head begins to throb
and soon my eyes begin to water.
I feel the clammy chills but soon
I find I'm getting hotter.
I cannot rest my head because
I think that I might drown.
You'd think they'd have a cure by now
but colds are still around.
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 10:45 AM UTC
You want to judge the book;
Or you are curious and keen.
Gibingly you ask about microbes.
With Naked eyes unseen.
Fourteen hundred is the age.
Yet you can scratch your head.
I know it is not going to help.
Because you're alive yet dead.
You think you're very literate.
Yes it speaks about microbes. ***
But are you literate enough?
Then there were no microscopes.
They discover and boastfully talk.
As if they've created, never they stop.
Compare themselves with God.
But their origins are in ***** drop.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
1.
On a nameless planet, in ferment we first met,
eons ago, tiny microbes, evolving we were still,
yet love a flickering light, bound us together.
As two galaxies were merging fiercely then,
to turn us and our nameless pang,to worthless dust
there wasn't any time left for a future together.
In a microbial kiss pathos ruled,we melted as one,
promised to remember this tryst, imprinted so deep
wherever in cosmos we would meet in future
in whatever form we may be at that juncture.
2.
This morning at the Metro that pang did revisit,
seeing you gazing at me in goosebumps I stood,
two galaxies within, I sensed were closing to to merge,
coming to my senses again I find you've vanished
a microbe, you are in the air that every minute I breathe.
We will conquer time, go beyond, love has power infinite,
the encounters in flashes would intimate our impending union.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 7:33 AM UTC
Hubby,
Our fractured laugh is irredeemable.
It Is reinforcing the heroic microbes.
to brainstorm some tiny schemes.
with a lack of delicacy and tact
to recur the same cynic nights of devastation,
incorporate the sores into our throats; a full-time personification of tangible intrusion, directly to the full portrait of the Meningitis itself.
Distracting the law of the incubation hours for all strains, overpowering the blood cower, and hovering over our jaded hoarse, sneering at our last appalling psyche-knot
After this creative detention,
I’m invoking another forever torpor inside of our hearts' beats to pose another irrevocable damage that would perpetuate a close depiction of da Vinci’s Last Supper masterpiece.
Honey, Light yourself with a viral-bacterial whirlwind and sink into its bleakness beside my bewitching bind.
I'm still loving you despite all my infections.
amid the urge to enfold your tsunami and swallow its combination
Fortunately, we have survived so many different tragedies together, as a full piece of plague
above Utopia.
- The Poetic Soul
Jul 28, 2023
Jul 28, 2023 at 9:54 PM UTC
we let go
we surrender
we make no sound
just a gentle whisper
as we fall down to the ground
winter's coming
our job is done
another passing summer glory
now our work is in the under storey
we keep our date
with bugs and microbes
and all the little litter critters
feed them in their life of toil
helping to enrich our deep dark nubile soil
when the weather warms
season's storms have passed
our winter's work will bear good fruit
as leaves come out again at last
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 4:11 PM UTC
A bubble.
Form without void,
the time before time,
absolute inertia,
total resolution,
perfect harmony,
the bubble forming,
expanding,
like an explosion,
displacing,
creating,
The Birthing
of galaxies and stars,
planets in formation,
the universe
unfolding,
meteors crashing
into the atmosphere primitive,
amino acids
forming,
evolving inorganic
to organic,
microbes becoming
multi-cellular
--the race is on,
to and from
fishes,
amphibians,
reptiles,
birds,
animals,
primates
man,
consciousness and self-consciousness,
born and dying,
nothing meaning everything
time
and time again.
Awareness began,
both
with a bang
and a newborn baby's
cry.
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 8:23 AM UTC
We all know that life can thrive in the most inhospitable of places.
Plants grow from volcanic soil.
Bioluminescence crawls beneath
immense pressure on the ocean floor.
Microbes most likely thrive below the icy,
radioactive surface of Europa.
We all know that life—love—perseveres.
It’s nothing new.
But we don’t talk about
how ******* hard that actually is.
That’s what the strengths perspective is for.
What resilience gives name to.
But what if I don't want to? What if,
for today,
I’d rather the **** not?
Is that okay? Is that allowed?
That today I'm the vinca vine dying on the ledge?
Withered up and not drinking any more water.
Today, I am every succulent that I’ve ever accidentally killed.
Today, I am excess formaldehyde. I am a brain floating in a bell jar,
undulating in an existence that is an ethical quagmire.
Today, I am in limbo. Purgatory. Stasis and static.
Suspended upside down in a frozen wasteland, Dante style.
Tomorrow, I will thaw.
Rise from the soil fist first.
Feb 23, 2022
Feb 23, 2022 at 9:48 PM UTC
Quilts hang, wet on clothesline
More than seven suns pass yet they stay drenched
Hellfire couldn't stop
Storm-clouds in the hearts of an entire species
Brands that singe the arteries of life
From microbes to oceans
Placed on the altar of Earth
Dubious goals led us far away from our homes
Viruses envy our might
Kilowatt-hours rule
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 3:29 PM UTC
The good verb “conn”
supersedes nounsies that say much the same
they leave their mark
and their stain.
organelles are found in living cells
but bacteria is barely surviving -
gasping, respire, respiring
god will swallow death as sure as sheol
still,
the microbes must thrive
one sloppy, the other ill
a slender hand of steel
excites it,
like the splendor of redwood mounted on peach
a cleavage emerges (causing a **** to swell)
increasing her capacity for desire
a seeker of truth now bound for duluth?
caught in an ice floe
preoccupied by the last degree
pulling shoals
of distance below,
the south pole is now our goal,
we land on land beyond sea
and space
where a wise man plays fool
to a young girl's angel face -
as an aside: he likes her
but she is not attracted to men or goys,
scattering the cremains
of
a nobody's boy
(a boy we tried to revive many a time)
into a river where the river never ends
he remains
sinking into darkness,
adrift in a pit
of lips of labrum
down the chosen depths
of the frozen abyss of Tehom
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 9:30 PM UTC
I wandered in on a world of dead rock. I laid with it. Smelt the essence together with carbon and metallic lifelessness.
To create a place of pretty. A sadness overcame.
I came to feeling. To knowing. Sentient.
A rootless contusion never ending.
A bottomless chasm of void.
The pit follows deeper and deeper it travels,
To the hollows of sorrow contempt I’m born.
I grow to feet from the ground where I lay,
As my body draped the floor sprawling and loose.
Upon these legs I rise, and so rise my eyes.
The hollow void I have lingers yawing in my stomach. Ulcerating my mucosal cavern.
What I see
Before me
On this road
On this desert of the necropolis:
Metropolis mass grave,
A mausoleum for civilization,
Möbius of war.
The reflective glint in my eye was of no mans eyes at all.
The death of hope.
Sea of sky scraping spires.
The dead hollow bones left after a city extinguishes.
Millions of towers with red glowing eyes, where blue life used to flourish, now twinkle in and out of this plane.
These giants graze, on the concrete and sway...with the wind.
Colossus of marble, petrified forever in granite with the internal flora that haunted their bowels.
They now have no agenda...city percolates to extinction.
They will forever amble with no purpose.
Once they housed the hearts and minds of microbes that built them.
The builders of hero worship.
They died in the 20's.
Left are the shells of a dream and a forest of buildings.
New York died circa 1900.
United States crumbles: 1776
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 11:38 PM UTC
Before I went my way
I was unsure if my car tire popping
constituted omen or bad luck.
That is the frame of mind I was in
leaving Lincoln.
Now I realize most of this is temporary
distraction, soon Nebraska passes and
Missouri remains, as it always has.
One year later I will change my college major,
theatre to sociology.
Lincoln taught me lessons, not
all of them important. I found true solace
in watching others, why they walk like that,
what their hair says about their politics,
microbes erupting into civilization.
Leaving Lincoln behind was so remarkably
necessary in its devices. I will always
make time for my thoughts, my seasons,
thanks to the dull, blinding cold of
Lincoln, Nebraska.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
I've said in an epistle before:
Is there life on mars?
We're leaning towards the yes
Mostly in hope that we're not living on the only polka-dot
With a handful of microbes crawling on it
Slithering around
But that kind of presumption is of course
A space fallacy
To life, I think of you when I hold an apple
Remembering how you might be on Mars
Again, a space fallacy
The apple's not crawling with worms
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
My Brittle Star arms detach in the acidic water of you.
I stir, and try to escape the gaping tremor or your teeth
uncovered face
free of meat.
Roaches crawl inside your skull,
the bone powdered with the years,
all that remains:
Toskavat.
You are an Incan Mummy, the sack pulled off,
as rosy-cheeked, young boys stare through misty bus windows
still spackled with flecks of mud from your wet road.
They smile -
their microbes shared unintentionally,
a condomless foam party.
Apr 27, 2011
Apr 27, 2011 at 6:14 PM UTC
I never cared for astronomy,
he says,
unabashed by her dubious eyebrows.
*It's too big. Too...much. I much
preferred the microbes
to the stars.*
Her gaze clings to the constellations
the galaxies
the suns pulsating
singing at different frequencies.
She sings of them
to herself
not to him
in a voice breathless and halting
in awe.
*Oh!
the lightning veined skies.
How freeing it is to be
creation,
not creator.
To be the beloved,
small thing.*
Beneath they stand
the electric crown of thorns
throbbing arcs of mercury
striking spurs of white hot fire.
*Let my lungs fill
with wet, warm air I did not measure.*
The thunder drums
from one end of sky to the other
rolling the palpitation of her heart.
*We are fleeting, yet
we are eternal.*
And she would forget the ***** of gravel on her feet
and that he was watching
and the breath of storm on her bare legs
and the smell of soaked stones
and the sparks of rain
on her lenses.
But he would not.
Here's the thing,
he says softly, in
an unwhisper, because
he doesn't know how to be quiet.
*I've always known I was smart
but being with you
has made me
wise.*
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 4:25 PM UTC
each of my poems is a commencent address,
depending on the day, the time or place,
either an ending or a beginning
a moment unique, we mark a changing,
by tossing/losing a hat we’ll never wear again,
or picking up a shovel to bury a parent
in earth and casket we cannot share
an operating room, shiny clean, with mercurial microbes
awaiting a new arriving inhabitant, to defend and attack,
or bidding farewell to a elder child born blood-deformed,
whose wingspan shortened by virtue of our own gene-rosity
commence the commencement.
take the iron from the grotesque irony,
the steel from the stealing away seconds,
the hum from the humble mumbling, a disbelieving refusal,
the tears from the skin-rent tearing just
beginning a speech for the occasion and
ending with a prayer standing, by a gravestone
when you awake today, prepare a commencement
or a commence-not address
May 15, 2019
May 15, 2019 at 5:16 PM UTC
The new growth on my apple trees is covered in aphids;
the leaves curl and darken under the crawling green foam of their bodies.
My roses broke out in black, dropping yellow leaves,
bearing thick sickly flowers of hope on bare spindly stems.
Now even old hollyhocks have scales, those innocent seeming bumps
multiplying and spreading. And the aphids will go everywhere when they
**** the apple trees dry, they are already migrating
to poppy buds and young tomatoes.
I go to the nursery, resisting the urge to wring and brush off my hands.
She uncovers the facts--my garden got no fertilizer, and water may be insufficient.
So I will try to give my garden what it needs--the nutritious powder, the thorough watering,
the ladybugs in cheesecloth cages, the beneficial microbes, and where I must I will hack the plants away.
My self, meanwhile,
crawls too.
I slather vice on the wound, but the sting always returns.
The world expects me to be stronger than I am. The world is set up
for strong people, and it provides for them.
Once again I am like the short, shy child standing by the counter, overlooked.
But I cannot expect to grow into strength. And the world will only protect me
once I no longer need protection.
At times I sit in a stream of presence. I slather virtue on the wound,
but the sting always returns.
I straddle need and lack,
a gaping wound between my feet. I could sink down that hole,
but it too hurts, it hurts.
I am in the wild--no gardener comes to tend to my hunger or thirst,
or my illness after harsh conditions. Well, one comes--
a harsh gardener comes.
I wring and brush off my hands. I brush off each little invasion,
but there are always more.
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 4:39 AM UTC
twisted acids building sick
ten hour internal processers
wore and frayed
spilling refuse
leaking bacterial microbes
feeding diseased cells
revitalizing decomposition
foreign substance discovering pleasant surroundings
calling for manifest destiny
and the claiming of new regions in the name of an unseen king
wave after wave of intruders build homes
spread culture
influence the overall society
engage the natives
become allies
all the while undermining the land itself
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
Microbes multiply
By dividing, ironic
Really isn't it?
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 4:08 PM UTC
1, young friends, this is not enough. Of course, if the body's soap accuracy
is the whey's stain on Jones, it's another form of salt in the acid. And what color does God's wisdom know? "This developer wants to marry a poor girl, but if you get married with beautiful young adolescent microbes, electrons, acids, cocktails, corn, amino acids & amino acids, big fish does not have the true religion. Home improvement, etc., shows that wisdom is not poverty,
1 my friend is going to go. Amino acids and amino acids are packed with the next grandmother of corn and grain, the tablet - the entire system."Soldiers and more polluted with acidic amino acids; amino acids, amino acids and color, more people are in fish, fish are spread out, more likely to be true religion. "It is a pity because it was weak if the young man sees young amino acids, amino acids in amino acids and amino acids, if small fish are too small for true service, BART or board, 1 patient if the child is married to his poor friend For the sake of his life, the true religion lives because it is all good, because it is not a fish from the war, and amino acids, however, are the most beautiful places. The acidity of amino acids and amino acids, the restoration of God's worship all the days not just on earth, color wedded 1 young enough and loyal friend. Jones and the Egyptian and everything connected with the oxygen supply to the body that will create a great deal of e-mail if the salt of amino acids and what color God's wisdom is. "This developer wants to marry a poor girl, but if you get your teenager married to a beautiful younger micro-climber, electronic acids, acids, cocktails, corn, amino acids, and amino acids
are not so good, so true religion. Better home in "Benin"
and so on showed wisdom," and the poor does not exist.
"1, my friend is going to go with the next grandmother
of the corn and garnet packed with amino acids and amino
acids, the tablet and, therefore, the entire system and wisdom."
soldiers and more infected crab amino acids, acidic amino
acids, amino acids and color, more popular fish, fish spread,
the more likely it is a true religion. "The girl wanted to get married,
poor and weak ... If the baby is enough to look for a fresh potion
of amino acids, amino acids turn into amino acids, amino acids,
if small fish are very true to the religion, BART or board members - 1 patient, but if the child is married, it is a true voice of religion
with a poor friend. They cannot live in disco's idiom with Ringer Acids,
gaseous Hasidim fish acids, amino acids and the ground of marriage,
but not just behind the wisdom of the poor.
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 2:10 AM UTC
What Will Happen If
01/27/2019
The Human specie disappeared
The earth will still revolve around its axis
Causing day and night on its surface
The planet will still elliptically circle the sun
Causing the seasons, life's nourishment
The rain will still fall, and the rivers flow
The plants will still grow and fruit and flower
The birds will still sing, and the insects hum
Mammals and the animals will still roam amid
The forests that will still lushly cover the land
The oceans, where the life began, will churn
Continuing with its amazing eco system
Of abundant blue green algae, krill and coral
Teaming with microbes, fish and mammals
Life will continue to evolve with each passing day
Causing birth and rebirth and survival above all
And upon extinction of one, others will be born
Alas! The annihilator, we humans are still here
Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 11:45 AM UTC
8:00 a.m. and
It’s all there
The wishes the dreams
The *****
Spread open surfacing to eye level
Inconsistent lullabies
Slowly taking effect
Penetrating microbes under fluorescent floors
Pictures taken
Noises of days gone
Mentioning names scattered charms
The less blind go to the abyss
Faces enamored by shock and drowning
This year taken from under beds
Smoldering and ever present
The thin white lines in rain soaked hands
Drive away from here
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 11:08 AM UTC
Three!
Scientists stare at microbes
As we stare at humans and ants,
Sinks beneath the great dimensional wave
That is the cosmos.
Thinner and thinner I become.
Two!
This moment captured and caged,
In this sinking ship,
We’re in the brig now!
Our eyes and ears condensed
And all things.
What are we now?
Little bear? Great bear? Orion? Jupiter?
One!
We were perpetuated by hope.
Encouraged by discovery
But forever glossed over by our
Incompetence and our inadequacies.
In facing death we turned to look up at the stars.
We dared to dream,
And now we dream
Of humans and ants trapped on a sphere
In the great Galactic ocean.
Lift Off!
The space between rocks.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 8:49 PM UTC
20th Century dawn.
Typhus Virus took human shape,
was named 'Typhoid Mary',
infected and killed many.
Perhaps deadly microbes believe like her,
'We are harmless'.
1st September,2017.
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 10:00 AM UTC