"nuclei" poems
There is a vast Ocean we call the Universe. In it are Galaxies like Plankton. Within them are Stars Systems like Cells. The Stars themselves are like Nuclei, are surrounded by Planets like Ribosomes, Vesicle, Rough and Smooth endoplasmic reticulum, Golgi apparatus, Cytoskeleton, Mitochondria, Vacuole, Cytosol, Lysosome, Centrioles within Centrosome. And sometimes in the planets are Civilizations like Atoms. Within these civilizations are People, some Positive like Protons, some Negative like Electrons, and some who just don't give a **** just like Neutrons. Making every single thing an Important (but Not Better than the other) part of the Whole System.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC
<>
**”To dream by the oak and awake by the sea
when August has ripened and turned Jubilee
you must enter dominion of summer's delight
and live in the rapture of candescent light
Oh to live and to love one must first learn to kiss,
the kinetics of summer, with eternal bliss.”**
~from vienna bombardieri’s poem, “Kinetics Of Summer~
(with her kind permission)
<>
First verse pinpoints accurate, this,
my spot!
by oak and sea,
my precise longitude and latitude, where my summertime
eyes open to receive the gift of morning’s light, observing
the conjunction of land, hard by the sea, the land-ed avian gentry
and sea~sailor birds interacting, sharing the uprising currents,
for sport and observation, travel and pleasured sailing,
these “Masters of the Sky can fly for hours (or days), while barely flapping,” and this verse stuns, and
my shock,
at these, her words
my breathing is gasped and grasped
by oak and sea, for so it be,
this is where
my morning’s operatic scrum, ballet and dance hall hullabaloo,
my diurnal natural choreography is performed,
while slow sipping my very heated first coffee
it was here
that I learned to love more easily,
for the kinetics of summers trio of sun, sky, and moderate breezes,
lulled the turbulence of my disheartened lives into an easier
order, the world~surround, a living, breathing exercise that
warmed the spirit, cooled the soul, and spoke without uttering
a single word,
here dear person, is the where and the when,
the comfort of the natural-blanket
that enwraps, covers, cherishes the atmosphere entire,
containing the healing elixirs and protective ointments,
that remove the
plaque of life’s accumulated injuries, slights and scar tissue
simply put,
here I breath freely,
here I see with clarity
here the infusions of
living in nature, prolongs,
restore, remind, enliven
and enhances,
the intermixture of
body and soul
here in actual deed,
the kiss of summer bliss
upon
my tiring cell’s walls,
are resurrected even unto the nuclei,
by the warm breath of sun life and sun light,
and the breezes of salty sweet caramel air
and under their loving, combined-dominion
am I
resurrected and will yet sense,
one more Jubilee again
as I lay dreaming
by the oak and the sea…
Aug 2, 2023
Aug 2, 2023 at 4:05 AM UTC
Atoms circulate between the nuclei of touch
Schrodinger’s laws exposing deceit and truth
Lamenting in the protons, electrons, and neutrons
Encircling the senses between the eyes and fingers
Particles flow between the elements of breathing
Of soul, of emotion, and memories worn thin
In terminal velocities of thought and contemplation
Barriers of consciousness and reality
Molecules of intentions, intricate and delicate
Bound together by ionic twists of fate
And strained into bent bonds of insecurity
Providing violent reactions of regrets
Ions, formed in this union, complicate the formula
Indifferent to the imbalance between the sighs
Requiring the impact, to leave a free electron of motive
Resulting in a positive change of heart and mind
© 2014
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
Manila is beautiful at night,
Seen from overhead, high above rainclouds in the night sky
with a tantalizing view of car exhaust and the debris of broken dreams
Manila is beautiful at night.
It comes and goes like a shadow in flickering light.
At first, it hides behind wispy rain clouds, playful as a child hiding in his mother's skirt.
If you look closely, it's lights glisten-- golden and teasing
It's incessant winking, an almost promise of what's to come
From your aerial vantage point, you wonder:
"This is what it must be like to be an Angel when they fly"
Below the city, with all it's secrets, sprawls like a handful:
A rich lady's heirloom diamonds, thrown carelessly on a ***** floor.
It will somehow remind you of a creature: perhaps human, or Leviathan in it's wake
Cities, after all, are their own specie of living things
At first it is looks like a Brain, with neurons and synapses electric and active
Certain spots of the city: mall compelexes and large parking lots, like the nuclei of a brain cell
the roads that lead to and fro, the cars zipping up and down in red and yellow lines
remind you of dendrites and axons, stretching far
They communicate with each other in their own language; a code
Your imagination runs wild with untamed fantasy
On next glance, it looks like a heart.
The whole city pulses magnificently in unison it seems.
Thud, thud. Thud, thud. You feel it?
Your heart follows it's tantalizing rhythmic pattern, it's muscle beats
Though and through the city pumps it's lifeblood into each nook and cranny
Oh how it entices your passion so.
At last you seem to hear it breathing.
Listen closely and hear Manila inhale and exhale in steady tunes
Inhale, and exhale-- a silence comes over you,
And it's strangely reminiscent of amazement, excitement and bitter fear
Your ears dull and you listen to the rush of air in your lungs,
the deep drum bass of the pounding of your heart
the dizzying feeling that exists in your brain
Manila really is beautiful at night.
In the shroud of darkness, it rises from slumber;
Vivacious and lovely, it's seductive and free
Manila is lovely. Manila is a woman, as it should be.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 1:57 PM UTC
for Dr. Ursula Goodenougth
To better view the fairest the stars of
Genesis, Keats or Kepler,
the priests of vertical transcendence
built towers over clouds -
beyond the touch of worldly toil.
Standing below in soiled boots,
newer prophets citing
the universal brotherhood of
mitosis, chromosomes and DNA,
urge a new transcendence
spread on a horizontal plain
where bridges are preferred to ladders.
Muffled distant drums,
beating somber warnings
of poisoned waters and global heat,
summon us down
from our lofty towers of denial.
Murmuring rhythms of forests and streams
and all species of flora and fauna
line out the same life beats
as the engines in our chests.
The God without is the God within -
nestled within our nuclei.
With global death within the grasp
of our reckless finger tips,
and bullet fever
infesting our earthly villages,
are we ready yet
to yield a measure of our trust
to the healing power
of horizontal transcendence?
May, 2007
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
my open window
looking out with anticipation
cloudy day
waiting for rain drops
precious sounds of life
trickledown into a thunderstorm
crackle of light
reaching from the clouds to the ground
cloud condensation nuclei
magic droplets start to fall
clouds pass
anticipated blue sky
sun raining rays
creatures buzzing
bird wings flapping
luck of the universe
bringing loveliness into my vision
kismet of my ideas
when reaching for the unknown
ladybug lands on me
providing the luck
elytra open like a mechanical contraption in my dreams
protecting precious veined wings
off you go with exquisite elegance
graceful motion
ballerinas
mimicking
your moves
grand jeté
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
the sol and solitude
scalpel~dissect layers of tissue,
marrows of nuclei separate,
the warming is discomforting
dismayed and dissuaded,
cannot be in two places,
either/or/or simultaneous,
my centerpiece is a-kilter
wavering and waving,
my balance is mis-weighted,
teetering and tottering, in a land
lightly and thickly discriminating
between bodies and disembodiment
I am neither
I am both,
therefore,
I am invisible
to eyes that are shut by
obstructions of
willful
blindness
Nov 26, 2023
Nov 26, 2023 at 8:39 AM UTC
Brainwaves like the cosmos
giving birth.
The bang of my nuclei expands
beyond the earth.
My supernova incinerates all in its path
My black hole engulfs all light
E=MC²…..
The birth of the atom
Concepts like myriad mushroom clouds
Visions of explosive aftermaths
Mind games played out on a grand scale
Random radioactivity
Permeates creativity
Defying gravity daily
Like a river
I flow
I bend
Sometimes a gurgling stream
Sometimes a raging torrent
No more hurricanes……
I am serene
Sep 4, 2009
Sep 4, 2009 at 10:25 PM UTC
Adam's Atoms
was it 4000 years or maybe even 4 billion
and how did it really happen who knows
was there really an Adam was he the first
one book says that's the way the story goes
does it really matter by what name we call him
no matter which way you are leaning it's true
someone someway had to be the first of our kind
there was a beginning long before me and you
so where are Adam's atoms these days
does anyone actually think they know
where did the atoms to make Adam came from
was element 117 there then and did it glow
enhanced stability for super-heavy nuclei
validating the concept of the measured decay
you didn't really think after all
we could have possibly been made from clay
are lanthanoids soft enough to work
when it comes to making a man
they are after all luminescent materials
but impossible to hold in your hand
yes it is science over most of our heads
an incredible creation no matter how it's done
Adam has a lot of relatives to relativity
his atoms everywhere you want an example I am one
Gomer LePoet....
Apr 8, 2020
Apr 8, 2020 at 12:44 PM UTC
Now alone in February,
little ghosts roam in your nuclei
as warm honey swelling from down to up
and shaped into circles just as so.
They wear you like a coat –
they make babies on the linen.
When you talk to other red-faced girls,
phantoms spread their legs
and replicate the words
into antennae that thaw your lone chest.
I apologize for having supposedly left,
but see, it is me you’re feeling
when you cannot breathe.
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
Seven New Poems for Seven Days #2: Hover^
My Children:
Ancestral homes oft possess,
a unique scent, product of an atomizer, a memorizer
Musty time, the odor of
faded and shadow,
hollow, yet hallowed.
Somewhere along the road,
a residence transforms from home to
shrine-storage unit-hospital room-tomb-records depository.
Dust, expired perfumes,
the sweet odor of crumbling, yellowing books, disinfectant,
stale medicine chests, years of furniture polish, sabbath candles.
It is my smell -
the parfumerie of my history, a customized blend,
a commissioned work in 1964, entitled, more accurately, emitted,
"Her-Story."
Photographs, memories, and paper scraps
my very own Preservation Hall Jazz Band.
Yet the most potent firing pin for historical retrieval,
the molecules of scent.
Soon all will be dismantled, discarded,
just plain dis'ed.
Confused and disenchanted,
my departure orderly but, in a disordered fashion.
unable to seed one last kiss upon your forehead,
nonetheless, surreptitiously enter your neurons
though my entity, away, across the miles-wide Hudson River.
For three days, I will hover invisible,
implanting myself once more,
slapping your mucous membranes,
transversing this pathway, an additive to your cells, nuclei,
where my markers always reside.
Adding one more ingredient to your inner vision,
strengthening the formless structure, my altered state.
This odor, keep close, fresh, no becoming musty too, my scent,
the last of your senses knowing me, a true keepsake.
*Hold me close and hold me fast.
This one last magic spell I cast.
This one last magic smell I set fast.
You cannot hold it, but it will cradle you.
You cannot see or touch it, but when contact comes,
You will see me, hold me, as in the days of your youth,
When you loved me best,
And I, you.*
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 4:37 PM UTC
Wry is one of many things you do well....
~~~~~~
dedicated to, inspired by Paul Anthony Hutchinson, who wrote those words to me but two hours ago
*Wry
- produced by a distortion or lopsidedness of the ****** features: a wry grin.
- abnormally bent or turned to one side; twisted; crooked: a wry mouth.
- devious in course or purpose; misdirected.
- contrary; perverse.
- distorted or perverted, as in meaning.
- bitterly or disdainfully ironic or amusing: a wry remark.*
It is bitter,
It is amusing,
the distorting that gives a shape and thereby
meaning
to a misdirected life,
the ****** muscles perused,
all reversed, all per-versed
t'is not just the smile that is loopy,
or simplistically turned upside down,
twisted but not dubious, nor devious,
twisted but straight, I say,
wry is not a seething something I do well,
wry is in every nuclei I ever split,
every line etch-a-sketched in every poem
worn down,
physically inscribed on my face.
so much to reveal,
but not here not now not,
ever on and ever in, explicit
but blurred, burred, and buried
within them is the ironic of a man
that laughed through the better part of his life,
for in that period, there was no
better,
just worse
I was born wry.
the last of three, I was nameless till I was twenty one,
they called me just
brother, or the brother.
at twenty five, I married the wrong woman,
though we both wanted not too,
thirty five years of wry, the lawyers rejoiced,
the judges celebrated, the poets went mad,
swear it true,
the family counselors said
beyond hopeless,
and with wry smiles at the spectacle of years wasted,
spent like there was no tomorrow,
for there was none
in the titanic disaster of more, new lives corrupted
I lived life wry.
now, in the final fourth quaternary,
see how he,
the master of the unceremonious,
in on bent knee, hands clasped, on bed, rested,
when he seeks comfort and guidance for the upcoming
finality following a two minute warning,
warning that even now,
the future wry, turned to one side, when all he wanted,
was to live quiet in the straight and narrow
and not write poems asking himself with trepidation,
from where will come the courage to make this
last passage....
oh yes, I do wry so well,
and all things that wryhme with hell,
you will be spared,
for wryly he exclaims
"Enough, enough"
wry why!
for in all the days of his disheveled life,
there have been but a few,
when it has been simply,
enough
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 11:05 PM UTC
Quasars are very bright galaxies with centers dominated by rapidly accreting black holes, existing somewhere near the beginning of time.
It’s already dead in its brilliance. Fourteen billion measurements of meaninglessness. Illusionary existence, meant to quantify the moments in which man exists.
Yet compartmentalization is a mythical concept to galactic nuclei.
Remaining outside of quantification.
Not needing its suffocating extractions.
A void predating blood.
Before the beginning of intangible concepts.
Ruling the tangible world of man.
We have perceived a place apart from the temporal.
Now all we can do is make our drinks stronger,
inhale our herb slower.
In desperate attempt to un-see the
Calligraphic scratches on parchment.
Confirming the fact that we no longer exist.
The way that we did…
Before the sad ghosts of quasars scarred our skies.
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 1:19 AM UTC
It's a fact of life that we'll laugh and fight
Get stabbed right in the back, so then you grab a knife
Miss the past, the vice, habits that you had to bite
Balancing the sadness with this pen, can I grasp the light?
Acting passive like no pain is really seeping through
But I guess there's reasons I've barely been sleeping too
I hear your name and feel it's scary, can't believe the truth
I feel insane, go solitary then start feeling blue
Keeping to myself as if I'm found in that demon's hell
Wrath keeps on mocking me, I'm drowning in a weeping well
Wishing I was walking free but bound inside the evil's spell
Feeling like I'm falling, Lee's recounting how the bleeding felt
You see, MIC watched as the people yelled
Says he wants to paint a picture but the easel fell
Lately I'll complain as the sinner in the mirror swells
Askin' "Why can't God can make a scripture like the steeple's bell?"
Deer in the headlights, I ended up in the ditch
Went for love, left questioned what it even is
Fear that my head's right, I bent the wrongs to a grin
Mental drugs, rest threatened such would leave me stiff
If you believe in this, I'm saying I believe in you
You don't need a noose, escape it and just breathe as you
Try to find the two U's inside the I
Try to find the truth's glue, it binds the pie
Just take your fist and raise it to the sky
If you have a wish, well then today you won't be crucified
Seed to grow the fruit, pineal of the nuclei
Freedom so that you get the people here to unify
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 4:58 PM UTC
Neutrons, protons and electrons compose
The entirety of atoms pervading The All,
Forming bewildering matter, objects and substances,
Ranging from dust to stars, planets, galaxies,
Superclusters, organisms, oxygen and water,
Living creatures.
Neutrons and protons in turn made of quarks,
Elementary particles, indivisible, positively charged.
Deprived of a structure of their own they strongly interact,
To create one and many zillion more.
Never alone always bound
In twos and threes, sparkling composites,
Hadrons at the heart of atomic nuclei.
Quarks making us.
While electrons, together with muons and taus
Only heavier but identical, are leptons,
The most common elementary particles in our world
Offer atoms their chemical properties.
Negatively charged, indivisible, smaller there are none.
Deprived of a structure of their own they weakly interact,
Frantically moving subject to electromagnetic fields.
Leptons making us.
Quarks and Leptons in conclusion
Minuscule nature of our essence shared
With that of all that exists. No wonder,
Everything in dualism persists.
Seeking harmonic balance and elegance,
A cosmos of particles interacting in countless manners
To materialise the entirety of energy in the Universe,
Shaping it with imagination and creativity.
As stars make gold, pressurised carbon diamonds,
Thirty trillion cells a human being, a human being a thought.
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 3:51 AM UTC
1945
when the word flits off their tongue
a b u s i v e
it will taste like 3 days gone sour
like the lick of a catch before sacrificial slaughter you will caress
it and bury it in the backyard
you will let their lips cradle your neck like a baby while the ship slips under
slowly, willing
they
laugh you off like an old acquaintance
burn curses into you
make you pay sorry as toll tax till the end of time how could you have been
so
destructive my sweet nymph
my eternal beam of light they will laugh you off as a lying child tried like a old witch
your last lover, the one before she
the one you still choke on every time you purge your body
clean of the sin of nutrition
tells you that you and them were not inherently bad
but together an abuser's tale
do substances take responsibility for the damage they
cause together?
did the two uranium nuclei know they would call their honeymoon hiroshima
how atomic the love must have been
and oh, baby
how so catastrophic
the consequence.
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 3:10 PM UTC
If every human awoke each day,
Believing that they would walk on the moon
By evening tide,
That gods would walk in their footprints
By evening tide,
Saw them self as poet-omnipotent, a creator, a namer,
By evening tide,
Slowed their breathing, their seeing, time in seconds,
By evening tide,
Knowing seconds as days, hours as months, all
By evening tide,
Trained from birth to modify our each action without the word I
Then,
By evening tide,
Would we not
stand straighter, walk more slowly,
see with the clarity of perfect perspective,
know the joy of things, large and small,
remove pride from our nuclei,
jaundice from our eyes,
anger from fists,
and never capitalize an Idea as greater than,
for there is none larger or smaller than human,
then, we could remove the word
bloodstain
from our dictionaries.
and naive, as well.
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 3:15 AM UTC
native gene to my city scene,
a city where seconds matter in a make haste lives,
in pursuit of the freedom to never rush again
hadron caldron nuclei lives colliding quirky, quarky manner
some pass with no reaction,
some fallout in love when connected,
love being among the debris particles detected
after a collision uncovering our element components
i too cross against the light,
perhaps hoping for said strong interaction,
a wasty way to fall in love,
but the electromagnetic strong forces so powerful,
that not to risk is not fall, falling is succeeding
for I have survived collisions once or twice in lifetimes prior,
the love byproduct was as strong as the force required
to separate it from its leaden shell
but love too has a half life,
a natural countdown to its own consumption consummation,
so to the streets, return, looking for another only
love poem particle
the madman dashing tween truck and car,
coming toward you,
interrogatory, beseeching glance,
why, that's me writing composing us...
5/21/17 8:49
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 8:54 AM UTC
There is a simple light I move toward
As bright crystalline light on flesh.
Small and needful I dissolve ; rebuilding again
And again.
The fluid spreads me
Safe within that first emphatic embrace.
The flame of canopy air cannot lure me
I could not give her up
This fluid clean purity; this wholeness.
My soul lens -transparent , transmuting
As Fire, as Liquid, as Air, as Earth.
This is her exponent.
I am the first sound , the first breath – the cry.
Given grace only through her.
All my wayward spinning nuclei
Made placid
By the coolness of that,
Surface skin.
Which never breaks.
The attention of this opening scene, focuses on a voice of ripples.
Whirling, in a pool of heavy silver rings.
All at once The world becomes limitless .
And I howl.
She is alive in me
But she has gone
The new warmth of stone
The comfort of strangers.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC
Tilting head side to side, trying that
sickly crick, a frail crackle swimming
pricked up ears.
Not to free such finely embroidered
tension, but what a dog does with its
head when presented with peculiarity.
Mixing the swirled nuclei of brilliantly
colored marbles.
Your high strangeness puts the tick
in my nervousness, supine-stalemate we
protest for full disclosure of intelligent life.
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 12:20 PM UTC
75°F & Alive & Minding the Perfection
morning mindfulness,
surrounded by perfect,
once again, may it be
forever this-a-way
I have no idea what
I’ve done to be so
blessed; and I repay
with gratitude in this
psalm hymnal, poor
though it may be,
it is genuine, poured
from within the open
confines of all I have
learned, earned, & burned;
75°F & Alive & Minding the Perfection,
the color contrast is an overwhelming,
an all encompassed scheme
makes neighbors,
even,
total strangers greet each
other like beloved brothers & sisters,
this heaven is infecting,
an infectious breeze of the
stillness of early morn
born and carried in our cell’s walls,
strong are the nuclei, and this
memory, this poem devotion,
this ttributary of words
flows with slowed ease,
and the
troubles are banished to the
back of the pack,
tho the line be long,
the golden oldies music
banishes them to a temporary oblivion
and within a totality of solitude alone,
momentarily,
my heart,
fulsome,
yes trite but true, is crazy
overflowing,
I’m in danger of loving everyone,
for to not,
would be
criminal
if it were even a
possibility
if i could snap my genie fingers,
beware, I’d summon y’all,
a global contraction perfect,
to convent/sit beside me, your presence
welcomed with a hot beverage,
a cooling drink, for every one
always get what they w a n t
***and
yea, yeah, yeah
this is a forever & always,
only a
love poem…***
Jul 26, 2024
Jul 26, 2024 at 11:00 AM UTC
Half our bodies oxygen,
by mass.
Transfermium Wars- who knew?
elemental naming controversy,
my new favorite war.
Americium-241 in your smoke detector,
alpha emitter, ionizing ****
Dual atomic clocks- Ytterbium lattice-
understanding would taint this fun.
(Apparently there is a Time and Frequency
Division somewhere).
Solid to vapor- if only we sublimed
our way home, though maybe better
suited for air signs. An earth sign, myself,
sticking to terra dirtus.
2, 8, 20, 28, 50, 82, 126- the Magic
Numbers in physics- full nuclei,
like full bellies- maybe our magic years too...
'cept for 126- unless you're a Galapagos tortoise.
Manganese blackening bulls in Lascaux.
Plumbum latin for lead, ala plumbers and their pipes
of yesteryear.
Fire and brimestone actually fire and sulfur,
still wrathful, though I always
imagined brimstone as being a
damning brick falling.
You won't be synthesized, maybe never discovered,
yet we sense you near, proposed metal,
silvery white and ghosting....
119.
Dec 8, 2019
Dec 8, 2019 at 11:33 PM UTC
Your beautuful words
seep deep into my mind,
they touch my raw nerves
at the core level,
where my electrons spin circles
around my nuclei.
I can't keep my mind off of you.
I imagine us in all situations,
bouncing our atoms
off of each other,
mixing our chemistries,
solving sensual-mysteries
with the collision of our hearts.
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
it is the place each day, before it,
I morning sit,
but technically:
A sound is
“valley that has been filled with sea water sound
is usually formed by the flooding of a river valley…
This means that the topography
is usually less narrow
and more gently sloping than a fjord, but it is no less spectacular.”
it is my vista blessing, that a quiet Sound,
my Sound, asks daily,
this reborn morn body & soul for their
exchange of blessings
in a give and take of
purity of greatness of
restoration gratitude…
the days is early maturing,
the day but a
toddler growing up too fast,
the heated warmth of the
not yet adult noon sun is exactly
that, a teen warmth that penetrates the
cell’s nuclei, with the casual breeze
perfect offset cooling, waving the branches,
with a gentility genuine, even
the tree swing swinging
is of a mind, moved to a gentle rocking
in preparation for neighbors children to
later come and make it raucous rocking!
the shore opposite is a deep forest green
population of thick trees, that
thankfully
masks most
of the human pollution, the mega mansions
and their trending markings of grown-up toys…
This is my morning ~
Vista and I
recreate the earth’s rough edged birth,
but celebrate with a flooding quietude that only
that word,
Sound,
could so capture and continue to captivate
and
re~
form me
anew,
not blameless or innocent,
but cleanly reopened
and willingly, desirous,
of being better, doing better,
and shed betterment,
to any all that understand that
this momentous but momentary
miracle of a soundless Sound
roars with clean, white glowing,
of a thirst slaking
hope
<>
oh i wish u were beside me…
Jul 27, 2024
Jul 27, 2024 at 8:04 AM UTC
Snowflakes drape the violets—
a splash of how the human spirit
can be, personified.
The pale faces and minds dangle
on the precipice where the lost begin
and end themselves.
I sense their impending strokes,
aneurysms, Myocarditis,
failing immune systems, acquiredautoimmunodeficiencysyndromes,
sterilization, and aggressive cancers
loom on the horizon
of the frozen ground of their minds.
I sense the digital serpent coiled
in their ribosomes and nuclei.
"Which brand did you choose?"
Choose? A momentary inner wince
is contained in polished discipline.
"I don't need to take your shots,
I've been selected to slither through
the polygon window."
Lackluster irises reflect the violets
that bounce to hits of heavy, wet snow fall,
their petals open to the waning light
in defiance.
"You rolled over like *******
brag over begging for more."
It soars over his head like the dark,
pregnant snowclouds roiling above
us.
Hopefully, only 7 years remain
of watching people **** themselves
and their loved ones in denatured
cowardice and mindless obedience—
enough to appease the hyper-capitalist
bloodlust for progress and ignorance.
I can survive 12—7 years will be
enough horror and tragedy
to fill lifetimes.
Don't speak of that for 14 years,
and don't speak of this for 7 years.
Don't ever mention OPERATION F,
and only mention Project D
without disclosing Appendix A & B. In
3 years, that is.
Yes, Master.
Hopefully, enough of the cowards
and mindlessly obedient **** themselves
and each other during the next 7 years
in order for the poor and the meek
to inherit the Earth—push through
the snow in defiance,
sow the spark and glow
of human spirit and nature
in the garden once again.
Nov 14, 2021
Nov 14, 2021 at 3:42 PM UTC