"mutate" poems
(Quote by Spike Milligan)
One very wise man sat and said
That, long before this world is dead
This planet’s problems won’t be solved
By reasoning which, though now evolved,
has got us, where we now do sit,
Afloat neck deep in mankind’s ****
There’s SARs, Ebola, AIDs, Bird flu
And in the woodwork, West Nile too,
Each replicating viral spat
To mutate, (at the drop of a hat),
To complicate enviro’s stew
Of global degredation’s brew.
Urban spread and over stocking
**** deforestation’s shocking,
Depletion of aquatic life
Intrinsically creating strife,
Industrial pollution’s goo
Ozone depletion... ALL FOR YOU!
*Environmental degradation
Means the world’s a weaker place,
Susceptible to malady
Wide spread across the human race.
Those animals in corn fed stalls
Who never get to see the sun
Or graze green grass where honey bees
Are vanquished by varroha’s fun.
Too late to save the Hector’s dolphin
Conservation’s lost it’s tools,
Rastafarian hootchie smokers,
Save the whales to **** the fools.
Governments sell the carbon credits
Everybody smells a rat
Restorations for the birds
And social conscience creamed the cat.
****** greenies own the airwaves
No one gives a flying ****
That good artesian water’s poisoned
By good farmer’s leached out muck.
CO2 in global warming
Sings it’s song of fast decline
Glacial retreat a-roaring
Bass relief in blood *****
I guess the little children’s future
Most depends on lady luck,
Humankind in mass denial
Most don’t give a flying ****
Marshalg
In retreat to Taranaki’s green haven in the gales of the equinox.
21 September 2011
Sep 21, 2011
Sep 21, 2011 at 2:09 AM UTC
(Quote by Spike Milligan)
One very wise man sat and said
That, long before this world is dead
This planet’s problems won’t be solved
By reasoning which, though now evolved,
has got us, where we now do sit,
Afloat neck deep in mankind’s ****
There’s SARs, Ebola, AIDs, Bird flu
And in the woodwork, West Nile too,
Each replicating viral spat
To mutate, (at the drop of a hat),
To complicate enviro’s stew
Of global degredation’s brew.
Urban spread and over stocking
**** deforestation’s shocking,
Depletion of aquatic life
Intrinsically creating strife,
Industrial pollution’s goo
Ozone depletion... ALL FOR YOU!
Environmental degradation
Means the world’s a weaker place,
Susceptible to malady
Wide spread across the human race.
Those animals in corn fed stalls
Who never get to see the sun
Or graze green grass where honey bees
Are vanquished by varroha’s fun.
Too late to save the Hector’s dolphin
Conservation’s lost it’s tools,
Rastafarian hootchie smokers,
Save the whales to **** the fools.
Governments sell the carbon credits
Everybody smells a rat
Restorations for the birds
And social conscience creamed the cat.
****** greenies own the airwaves
No one gives a flying ****
That good artesian water’s poisoned
By good farmer’s leached out muck.
CO2 in global warming
Sings it’s song of fast decline
Glacial retreat a-roaring
Bass relief in blood *****
I guess the little children’s future
Most depends on lady luck,
Humankind in mass denial
Most don’t give a flying ****
Marshalg
In retreat to Taranaki’s green haven in the gales of the equinox.
21 September 2011
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 3:14 AM UTC
the best kind of love my head tells me is the kind that doesn’t leave anything behind,
because things that last have the power to linger and break and mutate and ache
but if
you ride on a feeling that only lasts the night
it will be intense and extreme and unforgiving and wonderful and even
belief in the right to take something more does not exist and all it leaves is
a final indelible wistfulness
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 1:27 PM UTC
A man is only half of what he is; always leaning towards the dim
Lacking a flouted need which whorls in the mute within him
A man bigots an ideal and will lark it away at the hold of his routed pith
A smile is not worthwhile if the smile does not have anything to receive or to give
A man is skyless; bound to his back with his dreams fixed on a rapture
He gorges upon tasteless feasts gasping for that sup he hungers to recapture
He does not know nor recall the times that did once befall
Of the lossless suffers and how they ever meant anything at all
He will become the most that he can ever endeavour
Be the creature he needs to be and whichever
Way it may engross him and how it moulds or claims him
It will be still him but leaning not so far in the dim
He would be a whole man who would give himself wholly
Who would be more and only more to her and her solely
His full heart would be tendered for it would not be his own
If it was still partial of the heart that had since budded and grown
A man would be raised and the sky would be without border
A bliss amid clouds where the undiscerning muddle finds order
There would be a sense to the road an approach to the wander
A reason for all a kiss a need to ponder no longer
There would be such rise in his depth and a contest behind bit teeth
To fight for the purposed kiss to hold her and keep her from grief
To offer her all embrace not too tense and not too slack
For her to breathe is to breathe; now half new he would never give it back
To be back upon his back with eyes busy to the sky
His bones broken as her feet glide indifferently by
Over his stare among cloud where she impelled his descent
He’d lay fallen and broken beaten and bent
If Half a man became whole does a whole man not become naught?
If he fights for a dearest never afore dreamt dream then what is left to be fought?
Was it his minds misgivings that would lead to such a trite giving reliving to doubt?
That surfaced more than he knew; the intended whisper instead a floundering shout?
Would it have been his heart that threw him from his felicity?
Could his relish overwhelm and mutate into potent toxicity?
Could it be fact that without thought nor without tact he impelled her?
Either overthought or over loved he would have fallen the hardest and he would not rise
No he would not rise anymore
If there ever was such a man and ever such a she
He would have her for as long as that may be
Her greatest gift is after saying all this to you
Is that after knowing all that you could you would feel the same way too.
Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 3:21 PM UTC
I long for solitude;
The day's barking tyrants
Drained my reservoir.
Thirsty for life,
I search for my oasis
On life's arid expanses.
I witness the crucifixion;
I watch firefighters burn books;
I can't resist the sirens' call.
The ionizing words mutate me;
I read, and I'm pierced.
The tyrant's visage, shattered.
Apr 26, 2021
Apr 26, 2021 at 11:17 PM UTC
We're all writers that don't know where our pen will take us,
Artists who's thoughts and emotions flow through our paintbrush,
A wall painted black, then white, then green, then multi-coloured,
It's changing,
Everything's changing,
Who are we fooling? Why pretend?
None of us are the same as we once were,
It's the demons inside of us that grow and mutate,
They puncture holes in our hearts and rip out our souls,
The deeper we sink, the more broken we see ourselves,
And the hate that we feel for our imperfections run harsh cuts into our skin,
Shivers across the lines of fields shaded red,
It's hard to keep the screams inside,
The rain behind our eyes remind me of shadows,
Pumping blood like butterflies in tunnels of glass,
The railroads to our hearts are barred with electrified wire,
Spinning webs of glutinous barriers,
Fleeting highs when fingertips touch love and trust,
Cut loose, like the strings of a puppet,
Trying to crawl back up the ladder of shattered china,
Back to that splintered paradise.
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 11:47 AM UTC
I've been focused on the end
For a while
My child, we'll just separate the energies
Inside, disperse them to the corners of all time
Our crimes are taking place in the vicinity
My sins, equal to the evil
I let in
You sir, have resigned yourself to apathy
Beware, the symbols on the idol in the chair
Suggest that we are sleeping with the enemy
We've been focused on the end
For a while
It's time to celebrate the miracles
We survived, a wonderful experiment of the mind
Enjoying the infinite theater of the Omniverse
Tune in
Realize the shape that we're all in
Mutate to neutralize the symphony
Our waves, those of the true and the brave
Modulate themselves into reality
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 12:13 PM UTC
shapeshifter, son drunk
& changing skins.
he digs up skeletons of a spanish battalion
buried
by tigers on the garden key.
suncresent
spray of blood & oranges.
new-fangled sailors once soaked
in madness.
now just starvation.
the viking speaks:
in limericks of new world poise.
his antler woven mask,
set nicely upon the shore.
seod, turtle lord
of space & time, appears only once
every lunar eclipse. bound by treatise
to the jellyfish triumvirate.
his acolyte,
bolivar t. shagnasty,
wanders the mainland in search of water
or meat of trees.
kindness
of men turns to dust & belly worms.
forgotten, the plants mutate
into root-rich empires
of fish & figurine.
million year armistice.
dr. samuel mudd,
shackled years to tide-slab &
fort jefferson. he
purifies the island of its yellow
shivering death.
hospital key.
fastforward hundred plus years
through mudd lifeline:
battle weary sneakers,
spokes sung by strum of card, the bmx
stridden boy & his
teenage mutant ninja turtle mask.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
fem in isms,
i imagine Sapphic eyes:
bad *** advert coruscates elite
fairness sensing slavish blind
in gestate calm affirm
in genders More numerous of Windows--
Superior--for Doors--
O harsh judgement foiled,
as a foil, as unknown truth
foil-doubles in the brow,
abject symmetry to systemize
a fertile lack of sterile barrenness,
i am a mediatrix rend,
nirwaan, hijra wonderment aside
from transemotion's ground swells
demeaning to be understood.
i celebrate and face the same
to be what paperwork tests being
normal being, freely chosen
atom each belonging moves
an asterisk of paths
of mutate art of nature social darwin maze.
i imagine Sapphic eyes,
ginko soft they pile up all cobble
memories themselves concretely
cloistered fame
spray of salty waves,
macho screams symbol
for dismissal ease
for tearing at an inner unsaid war
with lists offense of proper taste
to what posterity intends
an undulation womblike seeming nourish safety sounds.
i imagine Sapphic eyes
past
debauched
meanderings
where hyster-clarity rejoins its titular
and reliable escapisms curl the lips
of maleness found
here and there smile sneer love
i imagine Sapphic eyes
linguistic pirouettes
congest that wisdom nonetheless
the moment passed on to a
feigning truth in pretty rhyme
ornamenting time with fine meter fine
vernacular chimes peter in
to juggle perspectival paradox,
redichotomize the twilight idols,
resolve the conflict like a dawn
Aurora,
i imagine Sapphic eyes
running plastic with Alaskan wolves,
toga floats to snow
to let us see the purest fairness form
a ****** circle,
Hypatia ascends from tenebrous grave,
Impregnable of Eye is pregnant now
with Wollstonecraft revered
in liberation's fount
families held exemplar gaze of
Taylor, ****** Cady,
Anthony resanctified
to vote entitlement's
empathic origins, waxen mold
of nascent categories,
narrow hands spread wide to panoply anew
the manifest evolve in true unknowns
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 11:56 PM UTC
Who do you think leads us
When we find it there at the top of the mountain
The sky a sweating forcefield
Defending an unknowable cannibal society from the rages of brutality
No lifeguards here at the sidewalk hot dog stand
No golf carts swerving in and out of lanes
On a neighborhood parkway
Our footsteps bend back with tension
Where we face a collision course
With a culture three short steps removed
And left to warp and mutate in the lee of the stone
Where sands of time blow sparingly
To the pace of a sputtering tractor motor
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 1:48 PM UTC
Crush cut **** flip
**** guns **** kids
Sharp knife dig into the blood honey spread thick
It’s a mode it’s a *** shoot show it’s a stitch
Everyone will grow in his heavenly dome ring
You’re already less eternal than I...
By killing a kid in the blink of an eye
I don’t need to believe in a heaven you see,
I just feel the breeze in the arms of the trees
You’re a smudge on a page
A pen that’s exploded
Not like the kids who’s blood will be moulded
What will you do when your wind-up stops working?
Your teddy bear lurking– its eyes can’t be fixed
It’s too late now, you’re trapped in this -
Where muddy roots mutate your tapestry wings...
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 7:24 PM UTC
loathe — july 17, 2013
reëstablish the current which made being whole
no, not just in another life since fragmented whole is nothing tethered to the waist. that’s what belts are for. if you say so
monitor it like
you would anywhere
the trajectory is clear : light the torch of multi-orbed sensation
where we wait on the cusp
of the whole
perhaps in another life, we dare to suggest it. i don’t dare. if i did, i would consider myself a pigment of this pallet
i don’t breathe limited expectation
scientific claims
they’re just as good as dead to me. perhaps the whole can be related and consume our progress. there is too much to see. too little methods
methodic function isn’t perfunctory yet. a push is required. jumpstarting will only cause sparks.
i know something better
so sit down and move to the right. the light’s blocking my view and i cannot surmise unless i’m granted a complete oversight. nothing backseat, because we all know
that is reductive
paint splatters on my face
i
am
frozen
the colors reimage our complexion and erase the mistakes until we are whole
[ uncertainty is the new guarantee ]
introspection is a form by which we do so. everything we see is incomplete. our eyes need to be adjusted
to the [ uncertain ]
adore — july 29 , 2013
black blue strata pillars spruces flutes
eclectic aftermath debris snaffle pop
chute-in whelked chrome lugubrious
lifeblood : trans yes mutate pro-ohms
in timehalts wyoming woodsmoke
screened scans : rancid gemini rotors
hulks histories back - lying supine arts
( please remind me to act regimentally )
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 5:27 PM UTC
things are going to be grey
breathing tar inside
created nights without a sunrise
innocence breeds hopelessness in this world
don't cry your pains in order to foster their intensity
dark things spoken will play around the mind
like children they scream and curdle throughout the night
chilling sensations wrap around while they mutate
greedy lungs withhold oxygen
their offspring drain the logic from reality
last breaths taken care for the innocent evils that live within
we don't lie for ourselves
when we begin to give life to those living inside our head
it's nothing but negative metamorphisis
May 6, 2021
May 6, 2021 at 9:50 PM UTC
There's a girl that follows me everywhere.
Sometimes she trails behind me like a shadow,
And sometimes she stands in front of me like a distorted reflection
From a mirror that doesn't speak the present tense.
Words don't exist between us,
She just looks at me with blue eyes bordered by long lashes.
Sometimes I drag her through the looking glass
And tell her she's just like me.
But not as smart.
She looks at the mirror and sees wounds, scars, flaws, ugliness,
Where I see learning, growing, beauty.
Life itself is dancing across her skin
To a beat so fast and erratic that it leaves scorches.
I try to tell her that,
But my words are silenced by her attempts to grow wings.
I applaud this display of determination,
But I sit so far back that she fails before the claps reach her ears.
I sit there and watch her, and it's funny, because I have her wings,
But I can't give them to her, she can only grow them.
So I ask life to snap her DNA in a few places, replace them,
Whisper a few words of wisdom into her brain and hope that those seeds take,
Mutate. Grow into the wings she wants,
The wings that'll let her fly to places
She doesn't even know yet that she wants to go.
Child, girl, adolescent, you'll never be a woman.
You won't live long enough, you'll die bleeding,
Ripping out your ****** while shedding skin.
And you know what? You'll love it.
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 9:51 AM UTC
We grab our blades,
and go to war.
You cut me up,
and I cut you more.
I beat your arms,
while you flood my head.
**** out your words,
and I drown instead.
Yet you've no bruises,
mine are as dim as night.
They say it's just darkness,
but they can't see your eyes.
You mutate reality,
and I only help.
"Can I get better?"
I say; and, farewell--
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 8:39 PM UTC
Dear Diary,
Why does life seem to wrap you up in a cup of madness
then tip you out and watch you spill
the contents of yourself
onto a cold and muted tile floor?
Why, dear Diary,
does everyone expect you
to react perfectly in every situation
and robotically fix and tweak and mutate?
Diary,
I am not a machine.
I can't bend this way and that
at the same time
without breaking.
I can't smile a smile
that I don't believe.
I can't,
and I won't.
Diary,
You have so forlornly sit in the back of my mind
gathering dust and termites and grime
I can hardly speak to you at all
for my problems you cannot solve.
Just a lended ear do you offer
A lonely penance for my coffer
To spare a word a thought, some grace
to be able to pick up my forlorn face.
I look into the ***** night
so hateful and full of spite
Reprehensible rejection cease
as it knocks me to my knees.
Dear Diary,
I do plead,
Save my soul
or else I'll bleed.
Oct 21, 2010
Oct 21, 2010 at 7:38 PM UTC
Asleep in math class, not me, the matrices
Nobody cares about them it seems,
They lie, tucked in, drowsy between the textbook pages of more important chapters
But today, I finally saw the magic in them
The numbers dance
You can take two matrices, written in powdery chalk,
On the smooth, green ballroom floor on the wall
And watch, as if underwater, all is murmurs, all music
Comprehension of a different sort than paying attention
As the entries shift and multiply and add
Moving, sliding, locking into place like Tetris
And only some partners are compatible, and only under certain circumstances
2X3 and 3X5 meet in the middle, merge and mutate into 2X5
Two become one, each bringing their differences to the ball
New dimensions
Translating, the rows become columns and the whole constellation
Spins, twirling, kaleidoscope
Square matrices waltz
Others salsa and tango
Slowing, slowing, sinking into the final dip
Finding identity
1 0 0
0 1 0
0 0 1
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 4:02 PM UTC
Who is this man of which you speak
A hallow man, with a set of theatrical masks
That project grotesque shadows upon the world
A monster of evil, a creature ,yes a creature
Whose moral viciousness is vividly stamped
On his twisted body who believes
He has been cruelly cheated by dissembling nature
Yet has with skill a fathomless malice fashioned
Aye and calls for the closing of ears
To the admonitions of conscience
And to vicious energies of hate and ambition
Yes and gives to the eyes coordinates locating an illusion
Whilst he would still the lips with distance
That evaporates in a poignant lament
Of shrouds and gaping graves
Of deformed and emaciated children
Forced to hide in the darkness
The darkness that shadows his words and actions
Gives to us the unbearable fear of abandonment
That would mutate and change places
With the frequent futility of human endeavor
Who is the man of which you speak
It is a man who tosses pebbles
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 4:41 PM UTC
Daffodils honour us with their diaphanous emerging,
familiar old friends, it’s welcome yellow fellows well
met. We greet you gratefully from your submerging
floral heads mutate, from green bud to golden bell.
Nature, benefactor of all provision, gifts indulgence
plays host to these visitors for sadly too brief a stay
endows bright vistas which radiate in rare effulgence
springing in Spring this seasonal and annual display.
Daffodils grow row on row hereabout and all around
a host of them as Wordsworth’s great poem extolled;
flowers that proliferate and thrive upon waste ground
gilding the darkest spaces by their alchemy into gold.
Like gold a noble daffodil yields a treasure for the eye,
an array of optical pleasure then doffs its cap goodbye.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
MAN
the light.
birth.
love tears. the dark.
war spinning. tunnels
visions. misunderstanding
impatience. eroded. sidewalk.
family ****** poverty. growth john &yoko.; mutate
the circus. plastic bags. ugly salvation. scent factory. aids
dreams anger. justice nightmares LIFE disorder
pain. colour blankets wealth. india
peace! hate. alzheimer's
treasure seekers. adolf
radiation. alienation pressure. chaos.defiance desperation. abstract. sunrise
april window cracks. moonset. lsd.ecstasy barney sight euphoric frenzy. katrina
touch tall tales.
religion. spiral. staircase. ufo
floodgates. angel billows
violins. art
DEATH
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 4:48 PM UTC
Almost unbelievable how fast a human emotion can mutate
One minute is filled with visions of love and a future so wanted and deserved
The next is a nightmare of deceit, betrayal and heartbreak
Am I to shut off my humanity, become cold and calculated?
Guarded to any emotion good or bad
Self preservation, lock down what is left of my heart?
No one is to be trusted, selfish uncaring, heartless being
I was tangled up in the words you fed me, in your web of lies
Struggling to get free, unmovable in the thick substance bonded to my soul
How could I be so blind?
The best Casanova I have every encountered.
Too good to be true.
That’s ok, take your victory
For you have won the battle not the war
I will come out on top and be much stronger than before.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 11:19 AM UTC
Dreams,
symphonies of sounds, and arrangements of metaphoric surrealism
the hibernation of ones mysterious thoughts and deepest actions
a psychedelic wonderland of white rabbits frolicking down holes, a time warp of madmen
the thought of being chased by dark shadows in the mind of monsters that hide under the foot of the bed.
Dreams,
a stew of emotions boiling and biting at our ankles, a *** of acid-spiked visions so unclear
a world where billows of color mix and mutate
the tall man chasing us young children through scenes of disruption and everything within us as mortal beings
where buddhist pray and the sun shines, leaping over peace pigmented hills, filled with hysteria and delirium
the dreams that have left me uneasy and the dreams that leave me wanting more
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 8:25 PM UTC
i've met you before,
watched you mutate,
witnessed the moment you crumble
and usually i lend a hand
in putting you back together
i've seen who you are,
a self prescribed new birth,
but still the same sad sack that felt like
you had to leave it all behind
to really start over
i've laughed at you in secret,
knowing that will never do the trick,
no amount of outward reimagining could
ever undo the fact that you
will never love who lives within
i've learned from you, finally,
watching my own potential destiny,
as it unfurls slowly and surely in the
same steady footfalls that
only ever lead to self destruction
i've longed to let go of you,
but without my own permission,
i always came back to the place where
you stand still in time stuck
battling between ego and self
i've met you before,
seen where this takes us,
and this time i've decided to forget
my innate empathic impulses
and to run like hell
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 12:04 AM UTC
These are the days when
nothing feels like a poem,
when biscuit crumbs
form a cloud in the bottom
of a teacup and you know
what the week will hold,
when april showers
mutate into bath time,
and the trees drip fat drops
that find their way to chill your skin.
When you hear bad news
from no news, and each second
leeches all your hope, one
vertebrae at a time
until at the base of your spine,
you submerge.
Apr 27, 2012
Apr 27, 2012 at 4:54 PM UTC