"modified" poems
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway,
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
In willfully prevenient interpolation,
Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray,
Forecasts in vague extrapolation
Contrasts the millennial contagion
Already underway,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion,
Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion,
The personable recluse fighting an illusion
Breaking down the nuances of every institution.
Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity
Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility,
An opinionated adversary,
to the realist without evidence,
Theorizing in futility,
Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community.
Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified,
Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified,
Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide,
Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide,
Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified.
Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity,
As consequential regiments are expounded universally,
To unstratify the residents indiscriminately
And identify quantum elements spiritualistically,
Changing collective behavior individually,
Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
if I got a poem out of every message I receive...ha!...I do...
quite a bit upon to chew,
but a request from her,
to please ignore her weirdness,
too juicy to pass unnoticed,
because it goes to the heart of the mad matter
'tis that weirdness that I do so cherish,
fully reflected in my own poem-children,
my multiple identities, that the FBI is yet tracking
give me your weirdness, yearning to be free,
so my poems can be inscribed upon a crown
and daughter adopted dear,
that one crown,
thy name,
thy madness upon it etched,
modified to rest
easy
upon thy temples
<•>
for Ali
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 11:26 AM UTC
Oh Jamaican girl,where is your patois?
where is your long dreads of natural hair?
your culture?
Jamaican girl,sing your country's national anthem
How do you not like reggae?
what kind of Jamaican are you?
You see the ackee and codfish I stuffed down my throat on a Saturday morning would never be enough for them.
My extinctive use of the English language made them sick at their guts
The fact that my waistline won't move in such a manner to alarm others.
Born in the Yard
Grew up in the suburbs
Never boastful;always grateful
So Jamaican girl you try to act white on purpose?
Wear 'American clothes'
And perm your hair?
My nationality will coexist throughout my veins
Will never hit sunlight unless my tongue decides to move in that direction.
Will never be ashamed of my heritage as I am proud of it,yet also modified to not be defined by it.
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 2:36 AM UTC
you can’t right the same poem twice
hell, yes I can
in pointy fact,
only got one,
which gets re-righted
morning noon and evening-tide
substitute a variant spelling
wright vs write vs right
and the meaning changes thrice
*the only thing i can’t not duplicate is those **** love poems
each unique and writ for the woman specific,
each love one, custom jiggered,
each poem, crafted, to her pulse
each poem, drafted, to her scent
none alike, and that’s why I believe
in the god who commanded "create her"
to make love poems in his way,
gave me millions of veins, an extra ribbing,
of inspiration to pray to...
my heart altered, modified, daily*
**** poems
**** love poems
**** love
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 10:18 PM UTC
my blood turns black in every puncture,
steel goes in just, even faster,
i do not care how they see me,
i go to church even though you don't believe me,
i may be modified and full of carvings,
but my passion and care will never vanish
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC
you
modified magic lantern
incarnadine
soul
puppet show
short dresses
free
cocktails
little swords
and
big drama
where we
make love
in the
dressing
room
I watch you
don
the sheets
and cut
eye holes
while I grab
the light
and radiate
your
behind
the audience
better not
see
that
***
I’m
protective of
my baking
flour
*****
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC
Hindi (in Roman script)
Kyon maine tumse pyaar kiya,
Ye to mujhe pata nahin...
Maine tum mein kya dekha tha,
Ye bhi mujhe pata nahin...
Kyon maine tumse pyaar kiya,
Ye to mujhe pata nahin...
English
Why I loved you I don't know that...
What I liked in you I don't know that...
What I had seen in you I don't know that...
I don't know that, I don't know that...
Why I loved you I don't know that...
I liked in you I don't know what...
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 6:06 AM UTC
One day I awoke, strangely to find
the person I used to be gone, left behind
Somewhere, somehow, I became someone new
Who was much less like me, and a lot more like you
The changes were subtle, I did not even know
Until people asked me, just where did "you" go?
It appears I gave up being me just to please
the person I once proposed to from my knees
But the strangest thing is, I did not even see
the way you genetically, modified me
I looked like the me, that everyone knew
but instead of myself, to you I was true
And now that I see it, and begin to turn back
you're angry and bitter and start to attack
You think that there's someone else I now see
But don't see how that someone else can be me
I don't like the person, with you I became
It's not all your fault though, I'm partly to blame.
And just as I let you make me not the same
it is I that must choose my old self to reclaim
So from now on my dear our ways we must part
There's no place anymore for you in my heart
I'll put myself first, be alone for a while
Until I can look in the mirror and smile
And see there once more who I used to be
the reclaimed original version of me
Apr 10, 2010
Apr 10, 2010 at 11:45 AM UTC
*Over the centuries
a transforming logo
promoting and shaping
our dance with coffee..
a seafaring birth
fifteenth century siren
exposed and sensuous
twin-tailed mermaid..
her seductive history
reached to Seattle
with nautical theme..
one lasting effect
many centuries told
with modified modesty
her crown remains..
this enduring connection
upper and lower
crown and creation
transcends the coffee..
the logo reminds us:
senses through time
stimulate and attract
crowned light above...*
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
This planet orbits a yellow sun like ours.
It is in the Optimum Zone to support life.
Sure enough it has a wide variety of flora and fauna.
Highly intelligent life has evolved in its seas and oceans.
Its continents, however, are dominated by a species of primates.
Over the past 300 of the planet’s years they have developed
Some fairly high technology.
But they remain carnivores
Who regularly commit genocide.
They cut down swathes of natural forest
To grow chemically protected
Genetically modified nutrition-sources.
And they mine their planet empty
Of its mineral riches.
The planet’s ecosystem is being rapidly destroyed
By them.
Socially and psychologically they remain primitive.
Yet they possess the means to blow their world
To pieces.
With heavy heart I have to advise
We sign this planet
“No Entry”
For the foreseeable future.
“Forbidden” indeed.
A planet we call MW Orion 8478-3
That its natives call
That ever so common name:
“Earth”.
Paul Butters
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
My dream began
with a pronoun waking
in the morning light,
followed by a verb
carried in the wind
from across the lake,
as the adverb
whispered a preposition,
adjectives modified
a proper noun, and
I sailed quietly
to your beautiful name
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 10:22 AM UTC
Sometimes I wonder
What my life would be like
If I had never met you.
Not in a spiteful way,
Just out of curiosity.
Would a new name replace
The space
You've reserved between my lips? Or would I still be out there,
Counting time
Between the ticks of my metal detector?
Do you remember the metal detector?
You know,
I always was a treasure hunter.
I don't think I ever told you this but,
Before we met,
I modified it a bit.
I was tired of lugging it around,
So I put it in my heart.
This way,
I had nothing weighing me down.
I used that ****** thing for years.
After a while, though,
I got tired of metal.
I only ever found scraps, anyway.
So I modified it a bit more.
Honestly,
I barely made it out of that one intact,
But it was worth it.
This time, I was looking for love.
I don't want to run this tangent
Into the ground,
But I guess what I really want to know is
Would my heart ever beat that fast again?
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
[Verse]
Tell these ******* I’m queen, tell these ******* I’m gold
If you been where I’ve been, then you’d probably turn cold
I give a **** ‘bout you ******* who got a problem with me
I do **** for myself, nobody got it for me
You got an issue with me, but you ain’t licensed to speak
‘Cause I be feedin’ the streets, your *** is nothin’ to me
I’ve been hot with the lyrics and I’ve been dope with the fashion
I said I want it I need, I done spoke, I take action
And when you talkin’ I’m workin’, I’m gettin’ things I’m deservin’
But at a point I was hurtin’ and gettin’ nothin’ like virgins
I be takin’ my time, I’m only twenty years old
Nobody ****** with Coca, I tell them suckers “go home”
***** I’m hype ‘cause I’m certified, all my ******* qualified
****** with my team, finna get your face modified
What you comin’ for me? I ain’t scared, fam’
I eat them J’s off your feet with my bare hands
Stupid-ass ***** just stop
‘Cause I ain’t finna tolerate this **** you talk
Unless the ***** a boss she gettin’ boxed
They said Coca been on, and ***** you not
I be ‘bout it but I ain’t the type to start ****
Asian ***** never a fool, always some smart ****
Who you playin’? I done learned the game
Nobody teachin’ me **** ‘cause me and you not the same
So get to suckin’ ***** you talk too much
You get a bit of ****** fame, think you popular
You twerkin’ for a name, ****** bought you stuff
I make my own **** money, and I shop enough
They say I lie about the **** I do
Now you flexin’ ‘cause Coca ain’t ****** with you
***** swerve – I make moves, it’s the truth
This the mafia, ***** – who you?
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
Beauty is power
The words we teach our girls
whipped mousse over the freckles along your temples
will get you respect
the zit under your chin
will make you somebody to avoid for a month
The rouge on your cheeks
will make people think they've made you laugh each time you smile
Taken more seriously under anonymity on cyberspace
than to that same person talking to your face
As the standards grow higher
The modified faces and bodies of revlon and maybeline
become tall tales in every sense
The waistline is taken in to better display the shellac of that manicure
why of course!
as more and more voices go hoarse
from taking out meals before
in fear of a body to abhor
when beauty is power
and its concepts changing
is it only to keep us from misbehaving>
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 5:05 AM UTC
When Ebola’s fever begins to rage,
The prognosis isn’t nice,
Monoclonal antibodies
are needed from three mice.
The mice must first become exposed
to a weakened viral strain.
Their antibodies harvested
and combined with those of man.
Strangely the proteins that we need
are grown best in a ****
A modified tobacco plant
will do the job indeed.
The serum, that derives from plants,
had not had human trials.
(but eight of ten young chimpanzees
endorse what’s in that vial.)
Our missionaries, sick unto death
were clearly in no position
to refuse to try the medicine
that might provide remission.
Their rebound was miraculous.
To Atlanta now they fly.
Man finds himself in debt to a mouse.
“Good job, little guy!”
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 8:44 AM UTC
We're stuck within these bodies that we're dying to change
We are ashamed because we want to be different
Modified.
We cannot escape being called by "her" or "him"
It may not seem like much, but titles matter,
As do appearances.
"I want to be this", I say
"But you're not that." Society barks
That.
We crave to be that,
The opposite of "who we are"
We're stuck, truley
We feel as if we can't escape this, containment,
This restriction,
This prohibition.
That defines us.
We didn't choose to be WHO we are,
We didn't get a choice to become WHAT we are.
I am a "he".
I am a "her".
We are confined to be one gender, "ourselves"
How can we be ourselves if our looks are so decieving?
Are we not judged by our outskirts?
I want to be "that", On the outside
I already am, on the inside
Though, I'm jammed,
Wedged,
Lodged,
Embedded,
Fixed.
We linger in these false corpses
They burn at our courage and tear at our hearts
They puncture and pierce and leave scars and bruises in our souls
Because we cannot run from ourselves.
When society is against us
We remain still
Immovable
What can we do if our skin is a lie?
I am a "he" on the inside, a "she" on the outside
I am a "she" on the inside, a "he" on the outside
I can't escape alone.
I think I'm trapped
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 11:15 PM UTC
whiteness is GMO
genetically modified genocide
like and from fascism
psychologically modified
historically modified
purely incestuous
time loop
amphetamine
attention span
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 5:49 PM UTC
I gause now it is clearly visible
Money makes the world go round…
Majority would sell their soul for the love of money
The money that would only last for their generation
Being creative is not a sin…
Copy and paste can cause damages that would take several decades to fix
Engineering was the for the reason
Though poor engineering design can cause some damages that can be redesigned and modified
You let it go and you will suffer
You intervene you are wrong you will be assassinated
You spread the word and get ignored…
Colonisation still exist Indirectly…
Now it’s even worse
Colonised by private individuals because he can afforded
They land were they can jus like a cat
They get to be protected
People get to be question and uncertainty answer are the…
Capital city road are in a mess
Foreign country benefits
The community suffer
Fuel price goes up at the same rate as traffic congestion
Closing all the freedom of travelling to work
Depression gets agrivated
Financial strain becomes a norm
Fools are enjoying the fruits
The greedy are on holiday
The investors are making more deals
The official know the bribery language better
The nation is falling down
The grow rate is stand still
More and more labour strikes takes place
The economy gets dragged on mud
Consciousness people are disappointed
Anger is boiling
Crime is going to increase
Drug use is a norm
Opportunist are flying like scavengers
Poor government is a shame
It also affect those who are not political
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 2:48 AM UTC
on my better days I am
a gypsy songbird
addicted to
dying my hair unnatural
colors
wearing too much
jewelry
& swaying my hips to the
Counting Crows or
Queens of the Stone Age
on my scarier days I am
a modified hermit
addicted to
hard liquor and coffee
daydreaming about the things that
will never be mine
& blaring sad piano ballads
about rotten, undignified, but
true, true love
on my normal days
I am a mommy
my son will be a year old on
Sunday
& he is my entire soul
I am addicted to
his dimples
his laughter
& watching him sleep
if anyone were to
ever tell a tale of the
dear Latham girl, they would
have to say
"Well, didn't you know?
Davy Martin
saved his mama's life."
Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 5:57 PM UTC
hymn to Apollo
by Michael R. Burch
something of sunshine attracted my i
as it lazed on the afternoon sky,
golden, splashed on the easel of god;
what, i thought,
could this elfin stuff be,
to, phantomlike, flit
through tall trees
on fall days, such as these?
and the breeze
whispered a dirge
to the vanishing light;
enchoired with the evening, it sang;
its voice enchantedly rang
chanting “Night!” . . .
till all the bright light
retired,
expired.
This poem appeared in my high school literary journal, the Lantern, so it was written by age 18, but probably around age 16 or 17. That was my "cummings" period. Keywords/Tags: sun, god, sunshine, Apollo, elfin, phantom, ghostly, magical, enchanted, bright, light, brilliant, sky, golden
Moon Lake
by Michael R. Burch
Starlit recorder of summer nights,
what magic spell bewitches you?
They say that all lovers love first in the dark...
Is it true?
Is it true?
Is it true?
Starry-eyed seer of all that appears
and all that has appeared—
What sights have you seen?
What dreams have you dreamed?
What rhetoric have you heard?
Is love an oration,
or is it a word?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
I believe I wrote this poem in my late teens, during my “Romantic Period.”
Tomb Lake
by Michael R. Burch
Go down to the valley
where mockingbirds cry,
alone, ever lonely . . .
yes, go down to die.
And dream in your dying
you never shall wake.
Go down to the valley;
go down to Tomb Lake.
Tomb Lake is a cauldron
of souls such as yours —
mad souls without meaning,
frail souls without force.
Tomb Lake is a graveyard
reserved for the dead.
They lie in her shallows
and sleep in her bed.
I believe this poem and "Moon Lake" were companion poems, written around my senior year in high school, in 1976. In addition to having similar titles, they had similar "staircase" indention styles. According to my notes, I modified "Moon Lake" two years later in 1978, at which time the poem was substantially finished. I then modified "Tomb Lake" in 1981, but must have forgotten about it, because I don't show that I ever submitted the poem for publication or did anything with it for more than 40 years. Keywords/Tags: Moon, Lake, Lakes, Water, Reflection, Reflections, Image, Imagery, Mirror, Magic, Magician, Seer, Prophet, Shaman, Spell, Spells, Enchantment, Sorcery, Bewitchment, Bewilderment, Incantation, Rhapsody, Love Talk, Love Potion
Mar 29, 2020
Mar 29, 2020 at 4:20 AM UTC
____ Little leonard Lion, decided to attend the Upcoming Town meeting with an Open mind about the Subjects that were to be Discussed. Many Times in the Past, Little Leonard along with others of his Thinking, Especially, Anthony Ant and Roxanne Roach, Went to the Town Meetings with the Attitude of "Cautious-Listening".. MANY Times the Town Meetings, conducted by the Town Upper-Layers and their *Chief, Wendall Waglips, had NOT stuck entirely to issues , BUT rather Modified them. SO, that the Credits due to the *Proper Provider, were Instead directed to Themselves ! Waglips and his Upper Layers had announced the Upcoming meeting would be a *Revelation of NEW Ideas and Plans ! Needles to say, Leonard Lion, Anthony Ant and Roxanne Roach Could Hardly wait ! As they sat on the edges of their seats, to hear the Proclamations that Wendall and the Upper Layers would be SWEETLY offering up to the Audience of " Fully Attentive" Listeners . Waglips approached the Podium of Announcement, Stood behind it, Grabbed both sides at the top, Leaned forward toward the microphone,____With a Self made Smile and his Attitudinal Voice, Began the Ritual of Proclamations; #1= A Decree you will accept with Glee. #2= When I Condone and accept it as the Known. #3= Should you disagree, DON'T bring it to me ! #4= What is Laid out, ACCEPT it or get Out. #5= The LAWS are on the Walls in the Halls,,BUT__DON'T Loiter in the Halls. Waglips continued His Finale , "These are for Your benefit and I am sure You agree, That each of you they will fit ! These NEW rules we've SPOKEN for your Wellbeing for the Residents of this Town ! _____Leonard, Anthony and Roxanne Looked at each other and glanced around at the 2500 attendees ! As a Megaphone was Placed in Leonards hand! He Repeatedly Shouted out ! "JOIN ME IN THE HALLS "... So, whats in store for those who stayed in their seat and "DID-NOT" heed the Boldness of the VOICE ,calling them to the Halls ?
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 3:35 AM UTC
Moon Lake
by Michael R. Burch
Starlit recorder of summer nights,
what magic spell bewitches you?
They say that all lovers love first in the dark...
Is it true?
Is it true?
Is it true?
Starry-eyed seer of all that appears
and all that has appeared—
What sights have you seen?
What dreams have you dreamed?
What rhetoric have you heard?
Is love an oration,
or is it a word?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
I believe I wrote this poem in my late teens, during my “Romantic Period.”
Tomb Lake
by Michael R. Burch
Go down to the valley
where mockingbirds cry,
alone, ever lonely . . .
yes, go down to die.
And dream in your dying
you never shall wake.
Go down to the valley;
go down to Tomb Lake.
Tomb Lake is a cauldron
of souls such as yours —
mad souls without meaning,
frail souls without force.
Tomb Lake is a graveyard
reserved for the dead.
They lie in her shallows
and sleep in her bed.
I believe this poem and "Moon Lake" were companion poems, written around my senior year in high school, in 1976. In addition to having similar titles, they had similar "staircase" indention styles. According to my notes, I modified "Moon Lake" two years later in 1978, at which time the poem was substantially finished. I then modified "Tomb Lake" in 1981, but must have forgotten about it, because I don't show that I ever submitted the poem for publication or did anything with it for more than 40 years. Keywords/Tags: Moon, Lake, Lakes, Water, Reflection, Reflections, Image, Imagery, Mirror, Magic, Magician, Seer, Prophet, Shaman, Spell, Spells, Enchanted, Enchantment, Sorcery, Bewitchment, Bewilderment, Incantation, Rhapsody, Love Talk, Love Potion, Romance, First Love, Dark, Dreams
Feb 23, 2020
Feb 23, 2020 at 12:31 AM UTC
Circe
by Michael R. Burch
She spoke
and her words
were like a ringing echo dying
or like smoke
rising and drifting
while the earth below is spinning.
She awoke
with a cry
from a dream that had no ending,
without hope
or strength to rise,
into hopelessness descending.
And an ache
in her heart
toward that dream, retreating,
left a wake
of small waves
in circles never completing.
Originally published by Romantics Quarterly
Keywords/Tags: Circe, enigma, enigmatic, enchantress, siren, enchanted, witch, goddess, magic, Ulysses, pigs, sty
Moon Lake
by Michael R. Burch
Starlit recorder of summer nights,
what magic spell bewitches you?
They say that all lovers love first in the dark...
Is it true?
Is it true?
Is it true?
Starry-eyed seer of all that appears
and all that has appeared—
What sights have you seen?
What dreams have you dreamed?
What rhetoric have you heard?
Is love an oration,
or is it a word?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
I believe I wrote this poem in my late teens, during my “Romantic Period.”
Tomb Lake
by Michael R. Burch
Go down to the valley
where mockingbirds cry,
alone, ever lonely . . .
yes, go down to die.
And dream in your dying
you never shall wake.
Go down to the valley;
go down to Tomb Lake.
Tomb Lake is a cauldron
of souls such as yours —
mad souls without meaning,
frail souls without force.
Tomb Lake is a graveyard
reserved for the dead.
They lie in her shallows
and sleep in her bed.
I believe this poem and "Moon Lake" were companion poems, written around my senior year in high school, in 1976. In addition to having similar titles, they had similar "staircase" indention styles. According to my notes, I modified "Moon Lake" two years later in 1978, at which time the poem was substantially finished. I then modified "Tomb Lake" in 1981, but must have forgotten about it, because I don't show that I ever submitted the poem for publication or did anything with it for more than 40 years. Keywords/Tags: Moon, Lake, Lakes, Water, Reflection, Reflections, Image, Imagery, Mirror, Magic, Magician, Seer, Prophet, Shaman, Spell, Spells, Enchantment, Sorcery, Bewitchment, Bewilderment, Incantation, Rhapsody, Love Talk, Love Potion
Mar 28, 2020
Mar 28, 2020 at 4:47 AM UTC
I rarely get on Facebook anymore. But when I do, I'll change my profile picture or banner-- maybe post a witty status update, maybe not witty, just something to let people know I'm alive.
It's like repositioning the arms on a stationary mannequin to depict a different scene. Except lately I just don't care anymore. It's just that-- a mannequin. An object, an image, a lifeless entity with which I used to feel real-- a dusty mirror.
I see that the line between the idea of a person and the reality is being blurred and crossing over into something all-together different. It's as if people are starting to wake up and realize the objectivity of their reality. But that brings into question the basis for which we define reality.
We have become a, “Look but don't touch” society in which we click a button to show our appreciation as opposed to genuinely reciprocating human emotion and energy. It is extremely isolating and dangerous.
Packed subways and sidewalks have fallen eerily silent with faces illuminated by their cellphones. Most everyone wants to be heard, appreciated and recognized and social media has provided an outlet for that.
But there comes a point at which your platform becomes your prison and your voice your warden-- and everything you say is modified to be pleasing to the ear and 'likeable'.
But I like dislikes. And if you're not ******* anyone off-- you're probably not doing anything important, and if you're not outraged you're not paying attention.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
piercing my right eye from within
daggers, sharpened with blame
fly true
through the blue
into faces of lying dry-cleaned faces
puffed and crimson
spittle gathering
hate speech teachings
reaching beaches far from informed shores –
new ***** blesses the young
shoveling modified nutrients
smiles beam
glistening sweat runs
internal furnace matching
warm glow of planned dumbing-down
vaccination zombie
mercury poisoned baby rocks silently –
embryonic images
in laboratory dishes
sample size offering a slight variance
right-wing politicians eagerly await
the first course
stem-cell soufflé
desperation sets in as reality takes hold
the shift already happened –
glancing at a dime-store wristwatch
plotting an afternoon of debauchery
slowing pulling off the square
admiring the show -
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 11:36 AM UTC