"mutations" poems
Feel empty in your post apocalyptic City of Angels,
Where not even your pets are real!
An electric android, a sheep or a frog,
The whir-flutter of micro-electrical wings of a butterfly.
Good, and so you ought.
Now grab the handles of your empathy box,
And in a shared virtual hallucination –
Feel: empathy, depression, pain, delusion and despair,
The outré myriad gifts of consciousness.
Billions of discombobulated and disconnected wrecks:
Adam's sons; Eve's daughters,
And among them simulations too,
Fakes! androids!
A phony circuit of implanted semi-conscious memories,
A hive of neural malaise!
Welcome to our world;
know how dead inside I am.
You, yes, you:
Need a pet to make you more complete?
Maybe you can afford
A Fake Fakir Flake like me who looks like Jude Law,
Sounds like Richard Burton,
And silently romances you like Rudolph Valentino.
Come and stick what’s left of your mind,
In here,
In hair,
Hear her:
har, har, har…
A box of lies...
A voice, Mercer's,
With texture from an age you neither lived in nor dared in:
Al Jerry's, a TV actor,
Droning on in pre-selected tones.
The real thing, the men, the women, the children - their animals -
Made in the wild, wild desert,
In the green pulsing savannah,
On the open crusted sea;
Now too, washed, choked, and drained,
Too many spliced and diced mutations,
Iterating your image:
The thing that was my heart,
My Child, now its imitation.
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 7:42 AM UTC
Does time actually exist?
do we move forward
in a linear fashion,
or do we exist in a
evolutionary rotation.
does this reality have a
beginning and an end, or
is it in a constant state of flux.
it seems time is only relevant
to those that can perceive
its regular alterations.
yet perceptions can
be deceiving.
how can we truly
know anything if our
senses cannot be trusted.
regardless our limitations
we are moving forward,
mutations of energy
intimately woven
into the fabric
of spacetime.
We exist in a
great unknown,
a sea of mysteries
of few obvious truths.
do not fear the unknown,
learn to love the questions and
the answers may come in time.
whether we are moving forward,
or,
completing a cycle,
love the time you're given;
because all we have is now,
for tomorrow and yesterday exist
solely in the confines of our minds.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 4:30 AM UTC
From wars erupting earths core,
we've settled a score only for the heavens and hell to see.
We smother the stench of temptations with potpourri,
only to deceive others stimulating parts of a brain.
Still pardon my slang
Are we using something to rearrange a type of mental suicide arranged,
in order to display portraits of lucid terror?,
Throwing smoke bombs to keep a little order
but even so that's just keeping us ***** for more slaughter.
Like roaches and raid a single spray will cause fragment mutations
a zombie faze shot with steroids and black plagues, just a graze to depict nations,
human infested sanitation able to retaliate government abomination.
A conversation my mind read by Pagans
walking through hallways,
a million rooms perfume and a two headed waitress,
mind binding views,
imitations, crosses, limitations,
serpents, pulpits, fuels lit and shattered creations.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
1, 2, 4, 8...
Chromosomes and cells of mine,
They duplicate.
My personality divides
Any and every time.
Meiosis -
My rapid mutations,
I find that they
Fuel my psychosis
Unrealistically
High expectations
I let me rip me apart
I divide and split
Over and over again
This is the alien
That I've become
I'm never enough
It's never the same
Gaps of DNA through
Generations.
Meiosis -
I know this,
I know that I'm not good enough
As a single, a one,
Tear myself in half to
Give them two
When I'm done.
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 11:25 PM UTC
Hanging at the end of
Strained rope
Swing my lost ambitions
And desires
My sanity swaying in the
Cruel winds of
Loveless night
Just a square peg
Confronted with
A round hole
Dropped anchor on
The shores of insanity
It seems so beautiful here.
I must create my own world
As my place in this one
Does not seem fitting
Genius is wasted
Upon the buffoonery
Of mass ignorance
Intelligence shunned
Brilliance and uniqueness
Frowned upon and cast aside
For the normality of uninteresting
****** zombies
The painfully intelligent
Forced into subversion
Hiding their gifts
For fear of being outcast
Men who cling to the faults
Of their fathers
And stories of stir crazy, house wives
Cabin fever was invented
To thin our stock
We all toy with the desire
Forcing blind eyes
Into the faces of
The gifted
Substance abuse is often a malady
Of the painfully intelligent and artistic
Drowning my will to be weird
My own underhandedness
Innately forcing my inner self
Beneath a cloak of politeness
This world
This living theater
Where we all assume
Our own role
Where our actions are
Transcribed
And cast upon us
Like stones on the river
I have grown tired
Of acting the fool
Prepare myself
For a new role
A starring role
Have you ever felt
The wonderment of déjà vécu?
And the sorrow of knowing
You belong to another time?
I need the exhilaration of a time
When life was simpler,
Yet more confusing
Was Judas the only one Christ trusted
To deliver him to his fate?
Is the human race too cowardly
To be welcomed in the arms of a deity?
Are we too ignorant to recognize
That is has already occurred?
Are we the last remnants
Of an experiment gone wrong?
The plague of the human race.
Devouring consciousness
Eliminating uniqueness
Evolving into our own demise
One too many mutations gone wrong
Retching in the soiled undergarments
Of our father's sins
Reveling in the untold lies
Of mother's milk
I have soured on this world long ago
Bounding for higher consciousness
Looking for the unseen
Searching for the undiscovered
Drug sideways
Through the sludge
Of society
Screaming wildly
Through the entirety
The gene pool would benefit
From a healthy dose of chlorine
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 12:52 PM UTC
sprinkles splatter on
tight clad legs in december,
and it should be snow, but
the clouds are thinking
of committing suicide
and haven't got anything
to spill but tears
i'm smoking bowl after
bowl, trying to ease a mind
full of manic mutations
and masterfully marred
optimism
geminis have a strange
way of guessing the words
that will slip out of lips
of ones like themselves,
and tonight i've found a
human who entered this
world just a week
before me
it's almost like a secret club,
but the secrecy is terrifying
in an electric way, and i'm
plugged into an outlet
ready to be fried as i
spill broken heart after
broken heart to a man
that understands me
all too well
he tells me that he
knows not why i ask
for advice, because
the truth is i'm stubborn
and stuck and i know
what i want, i'm just
wasting away with pride,
posture, and predictability
every moment that i don't
go and get it
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 11:30 AM UTC
I imagine your DNA replicating hundreds of times
per second. Imagine mitosis exponentially repeating
itself and a billion trillion of you dividing
and multiplying inside of your own body
logarithmically jumping by extremes and simultaneously
dying as fast as you're made. There is not one cell
in your body that was there seven years ago
there is not one cell in your body that is not
resisting DNA mutations caused by your smoking,
you could have had cancer by now, but I watched a documentary
the other day and they are curing cancer with ***
There are doctors out there saving lives and I
spend my time trying to figure out if I am capable
of love. I don't know the truth and can't lie.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 5:40 PM UTC
With obsolescent clarity
Amid moribund metaphysical
Mutations
As the iridium ball rolls
From eponym to epitaph
Engeneering an epoch diarama
In surfeit metronomic hysteria
While time chases time into infinity
Episodic vagaries celebrate
The metaphoric metamorphosis rising to
Metaphysical majesty as vacuous
As any minutiae will
When abstract vagaries
Become the vagrant epitome
Of a mordant mosaic
Made entirely of the lost causes
Torn from the very core
I surmise
As being the virulent....
.....Tragic and irridescent pieces
Left along the allegorical antipathy
Where those that are left behind
By the stigmatation
Of any irascible involutions
Mired in the mesh
Of scribbles and scribes
Left
After the iridium ball rolls By
Leaving vacuous irridescent
Symbols of epigraphical
Proportions
Stymied by
The obsolescent clarity
Amid moribund metaphysical mutations.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 5:02 PM UTC
I overflow, I absorb,
I push, I retreat — and then
I pour it out.
I gave myself names,
So, I took on forms,
Types, meanings,
Traits I had never worn before —
Unlikely mutations.
The end was
The Beginning of Everything.
II
I materialized,
Threading time and space onto myself.
I exploded,
Giving birth and dying —
In multiverses.
III
I budded through fractals,
Creating illogical gravities.
Where there was supposed to be no life —
Angular feelings emerged,
Flattened stars,
Ellipsoidal planets...
Until Human Beings appeared.
IV
Then everything changed.
They began to put me in boxes
Shouting with anger:
“My Faith!”
“Your Philosophy!”
And yet I am everything:
Existence in non-existence,
A colorful flash,
Undulating silence,
A sigh that screams.
V
Drink me,
Eat me piece by piece,
Discover me — but don't defend yourself
Against denial,
Consequences
And mistakes
When you see a wall in front of you.
VI
Don't take yourself away —
Because YOU ARE
Also, in that
In which you sink
Your Gaze
Your Hearing
Your Thoughts.
Aug 29, 2025
Aug 29, 2025 at 1:33 PM UTC
On weekdays,
privatised ******* trucks
disguise our secret fascinations
and shift the scraps
of our failed dinners
into piles of decomposing waste.
Welcome to the city,
there are buses on the hour.
Better grab a seat before
coffee stained tattoos
covered by sweaty rags
absorb up all the loneliness.
Where do they all go to?
Who eats all the bludgeoned bodies?
Oh, book the saturated dinner table tonight.
I feel like saturation.
In the weekends, somatic mutations
reveal themselves, for if I,
speak, like, I can speak,
then I am not speaking to anyone
save for the flowers. Oh, so
hurray, the garden blossoms again!
But I mean, in the end, I maintain I am
writhing like a centipede in a dryer,
tumbling between hot air, screaming
“Help me! Help me! Where
has the humanity gone?
I cannot even capitalise
first names! You must forgive
my lack of morals!”
“Hello”
“I am here!”
“Hello?”
“I am here!”
“Hello!”
“I am here!”
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 8:20 PM UTC
Wake up some days like I must be dreanin
Feinnin for a state a mind
That gives life meaning,
Submerged in reasoning,
Drowned by thinking
I see the white light
Or am I dreaming
Am I feeling this way for no reason?
Subconsciously bleeding
Sharing my thoughts like I’m seeding
An open book who’s reading
A case against life I’m pleading
In the game I’m seasoned
But if it’s the truth I’m speaking
Tell me if I’m dreaming,
Tell me if you see them
The haters the fakers the tyrants
Promoting convictions and violence
My people on the Earth are dying
Because these demons in disguise stay lying
I’m trying **** right trying to cease the pain and the crying
Mothers tears who fear their children’s death is near
I’m clear in what saying so don’t get my words twisted
Like I be having distorted visions
, Never That,
My dreams are vivid my lyrics descriptive
I’m not saying I’m gifted
But this truth will make you question religion
Will make aggressive from timid
God said we are all made in his image
Minus mutations from Chemist
Our genes don’t flex like gymnast
This world’s stress is our limit
Without artificial stress we can live it
Live life like back in the Garden of Eden
Like children at play hope hasn't gone away
Conscience fleeting today,
Emotions peeling away
Drinking whiskey straight
I guess this is the way
I guess this is the place
Life just whisking away
Who’ll miss me anyways?
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 4:17 PM UTC
The many voices of the evening
gramophone the sky voice the cell phone
the tablet the notebook, that monotone
observer of mutations purveyor of maladies
the persistence of memories, pale pink light sink
burning in the fires lighting up the skies
an old pang, smitten clang, the pain balm
mug-life, pen-knife, kettle-strife, all the sheaves
them echo-songs that haunt the drill-wells
that are cut wounded and wear fetching
chants, to an yearning oblation
bay leaf, curry leaf, yes, them colander coriander
there's a rhyme of charlies, looping from
our holy wars to now our holy hours with
the ombudsman, the omniman, the only God
who used to thunder for the ****
old Zeus, the Lord of Betelgeuse, him who we
called dead, exhumation, exculpation, exaltation
an ancient loneliness that calls from the nether
depths, now science, now freedom, now pagan.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
When did our society **** the genuine meaning of sorry?
In essence it is a word that should be seldom used and rarely heard.
Yet, we apologize for the most trivial of actions.
Mutations caused by insecurities result in a new purpose.
Now it feels as though it has become a faulty substitution for confidence.
Do not be sorry about character traits and emotions.
Sorry is a desperate word; a last ditch effort.
It requires the complete disregard of ones pride to utter.
"I was wrong and I am sorry."
The times that it is used correctly are memorable.
The look in the eyes of a loved one that screams of remorse.
The acceptance or rejection of the attempt at redemption.
Slowly, sorry has lost its legitimacy among people.
Those who have no other plan of action are met with denial:
all because of the incessant overuse.
I weep at the death of the word.
"Sometimes sorry does not cut it!"
But sometimes, saying sorry is all I know how to do...
...and it is a great starting place for growth.
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 2:06 AM UTC
On this night of unconquerable depth --
I ***** cross-legged
Limbs zig-zag lightning
Headphones stream anthems
Mutations orchestrating the lip
Ears muffled by cacophony
Flounders my voice, quietly
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
A sworn, torn man stands at the top of the world’s longest staircase, and my friends and I have signed up to ride. Millions of others stand between us and the top, waiting for their chance, their prime, to resign. We sulk in the depths of the sea and hope that someday we may be free.
The man holds penned paper that the depths cannot perceive, but we know it. Our ticket to the roller coaster lies, with number, on a digit. I and my friends were anglerfish before, but now we are eels. We no longer need dangly lights to guide us to prey, and now we tie ourselves and each other in knots.
Life is fun later when we are dolphins, then porpoises, then whales with legs, walking onto the seashore as brisk as can be, drinking our saliva as though it were a river overflowing with our survival. We walk in to the forest and steam lobsters over a log-fire. The wings with the tickets laugh at the monotony below him, but we’re below him even in that.
Grey skies cloud overhead, and we realize where we are. I and my friends run from the thunder that comes in every drop, the acid in every drop; where the water helped before, it now forms uncomfortabilities in our skin, nonconforming to the mutations of standard evolution. We need shelter, now, fast, and together. A huge tree is mostly protective.
Eventually a ladder of clouds drops down and draws us like a magnet. We can’t stop it, the clock has rung fourteen for two days now. We then have arms and can climb it, so we do, though the rain left pimples on our faces.
We ascend to the front of the line.
“Hello, ticketman, where are we headed?” we ask. He says, “Darlings, you haven’t been anywhere in the first place; how can you be headed to a where? First, go tackle a why.”
The rollercoaster takes off, shoots off – a rocket propels us through precarious stages of life. We have ups and downs and sideways parts we can’t really decide the morals of, and we enjoy it.
Then we are dead.
Oct 15, 2010
Oct 15, 2010 at 1:24 PM UTC
a new vocabulary is driven
as the authentication of genius
one that convinces a migration
toward imagined conjugations
of constellated false inflections
mirrored words on camera
dematerializing radical mutations
interspersed with graffiti and poster sounds
words, sentences in cadence
framed vowels, recordings of consonants
a punctuated acceleration of the visualized
the scanned and the incalculable hallucinatory
holographics of a language in which
communication is not spoken directly
but becomes the audible interpretation
of a microwave
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
I reject pride, for I favor disruption
I have become one with momentary obstructions,
Those that dissolve all our mental constructions
For the righteous most often fall prey to corruption.
A flame dies faster when it burns most bright,
Preconceived honor is the ugliest vice,
Empires fall, no matter the height
I saw disciples of Jesus rip the heart out of Christ.
I have not found knowledge in my excavations,
A ********** of ethics has given rise to mutations
If only we could perform the art of levitation,
Darkness might not reach us from the earth's vibrations.
Judge how you will, I seek no exemptions
I have travelled too far from the hands of redemption
Those that reach out, and offer ascension
I prefer to savor my eternal damnation.
Truth is just a simple matter of persuasion
Beliefs stay valid through clever evasions
We cannot endure Godless deprivation
Though the mind of God is a mere quantum equation
Jul 17, 2010
Jul 17, 2010 at 7:30 AM UTC
The town of Fukushima
is a place where few will go.
Since the reactor breached
containment
it has a sad, unhealthy glow.
The mice and bees and butterflies
Did not make their escape
High radiation levels
lead to DNA mistakes
The butterflies have shrunken wings
and other gross defects.
The high incidence of mutations
has Leipidopterists perplexed.
When they talk among themselves,
as they do from time to time,
Some blame evolution,
Some Intelligent Design.
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 10:05 PM UTC
Should we all stop eating meat?
No, we’ll starve of protein doing that.
But yes, it’s morally right.
What about plants?
We’ll starve: fruits and berries are all right.
Eat meat instead!
Are we doing enough to avoid nuclear war?
Not enough, we are doomed.
Too much: the next level is with nuclear-holocaust-mutations!
And global warming?
Our greatest threat.
A hoax!
What should we do?
Just what is Good?
****** if we do and ****** if we don’t.
Should we be pacifists or should we fight?
Anyone Out There to put us right?
If there are,
Their lips are kept tight.
Even God, with all of His might.
One Man’s Good is another Man’s Evil,
From a great blue whale to a little Boll Weevil.
For now We stay on a lifelong quest,
Seeking out what might be the best.
Paul Butters
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
i will live and die alone
the thought stabs me in the
chest
repeatedly
it punctures my jugular
and i bleed out on your carpet
i got too high again
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 1:16 PM UTC
I've never cared too much for history, found no appreciation
for it's multitude of names we commit to memorization
there's a certain friend of mine, born in 1989-
Sir Maximilian Relaxilian- and he lacked all motivation
Since the origin of time, I have traced his family line
and their genetic disposition towards supreme relaxation
He's the great great great great grandson
of the founder of vacation.
And this founder's son Clyde, well, he invented the slide
Clyde's kid brother Greg helped patent the keg.
And Greg's great grandson Snyder sold the very first recliner.
So whenever Max was challenged, troubled, bothered, or confused,
He'd recite his family tree, and use the very same excuse:
"Hereditary mutations within each generation!"
And so he sat around and slept,
But never cleaned and never swept,
Never ran, never lept,
His promises were never kept.
Maximilian never managed once to get up off his ****
too tuckered out for bowling, just too lazy to putt;
He Never traveled to the sink nor had he once bothered to think,
too coward for a shower, found no reason not to stink.
And then one super lazy afternoon a quarter after two,
Maximilian had a visitor, I promise this is true:
A tiger stood outside the door which he was too lazy to lock
as if he'd try to find the **** beneath the pile of ***** socks.
And then of course, it's no surprise he couldn't hear the kitty knock
and once you hear what happened next I guarantee you will be shocked...
The tiger tickled him
and giggled him
until his ticker stopped.
So next time you think of staying in,
instead of going out-
or complain about the effort
that it takes to leave the couch,
Or refuse to leave the sheets or venture from a cozy pouch...
just remember Maximilian Relaxilian, King of Slouch
and stay out of bed instead,
stretch your legs and use your head
then count your blessings, kiss your mother
motivate one another.
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 9:08 PM UTC
Some days I wish I were an X-men
and not just an ordinary mutant.
Some days I wish I had Magician
level magic like Bink,
just enough to negate other's.
But then I look around;
The Irish and English don't have it.
The Pakistanis and Indians don't have it.
The Chinese and Taiwanese don't have it.
The Hutu and Tutsi don't have it.
The neighbors in Bab Tabbaneh and Jabal Mohsen,
don't have it.
Why should I have it?
We’re all just a bunch of Muggles.
Maybe it's a good thing I don't have superpowers.
I look around and in fits of frustration,
in bouts of rage, I might destroy all the Husnock.
I'm kinda glad now my only mutations are thoughts.
Thoughts that I put here,
viral like - infective memes - hemorrhagic e-fever.
Outbreak? Snow Crash? Virulency? Survival rate? Epicenter?
Futile epidemiology because I know
exactly what and where I am.
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 1:03 PM UTC
*Fairytale Evolutions,
Terminating Digital Mutations,
Simulated Sensations,
Transcendent Revolutions,
Hybrid Generations,
Altering Stagnant Amplifications,
Shape Shifting Constellations,
Sterilizing Implications,
Eliciting Blissful Animations,
Decoding Kaleidoscopic Flirtations,
Fabricating Holographic Dimensions,
Reflecting Labyrinth Ramifications,
Transgressional Diversifications,
Empathetic Extortion,
Serene Distortion,
Subversive Contortion,
Forging Conceptual Inoculations
Violating Illusionary Variations,
Incarnating Prototype Deviations,
Radiating Subtle Speculations,
Catalyzing Crystallized Civilizations.
-01:09AM*
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 2:57 PM UTC
What are friends for..
Let's hangout
Having fun
leaving the outside world figure itself out
Try and fit in
Be the opposite of yourself
You're loved for who you're not
And hated for your great mutations
Filled with void of perfect hypocrisy
Would you keep me in your memory?
I'll shelter you and be your apology
You still didn't call
Probably busy sitting on a chair
But I understand..
I was killed by my kindness
And my pride got buried
Called me your *****
In front of your friends
And yes I was..
Fulfilling your deficiencies
But doesn't end well
I took your life
Cause mine never existed
It was always kept in a shell
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 4:33 PM UTC