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cozy april May 2014
Children are nicer than adults
Animals are nicer than children
You say that thinking that way
I have to claim
That the closest to my heart is
Protozoan paramecium

So what

Paramecium is closer to my heart
Than you, you *******

a.s.
To the peeps who act like they know me
Iraira Cedillo Mar 2014
I am a paramecium
That cannot do a simple sum,
And it's a rather well known fact
I'm quiet unable to subtract.

If I'd an eye, I'd surely cry
About the way I multiply,
For though I've often tried and tried,
I do it backward. . .and divide.
Jim Kleinhenz Nov 2011
Our wise men want to call him Icarus. But he can’t be
that Icarus. There are no melted wax wings, no vaunting
ambition, just the salt crust on his face and limbs.

Perhaps he did fall from the sky and no
one heard his splash. Perhaps as the waves moved
around him, like a bright red buoy tied to the sea,

his swimming bequeathed to the water
the necessary movement for the waves. Perhaps left to swim
ashore, it’s our words that have drowned, not his soul.

Or could it be the waves have calmed?
Could it be that the sea is silent? That there
is nothing left to come ashore?

What if he’s like a cloud of paramecium
or something, and the swimming child emerges
alive from the river estuary and not dead from the sea?

My child, my child! The swimming words,
so much in abundance, about to reach
the river’s mud, amid the river’s eels…

© Jim Kleinhenz
Elise Chou Mar 2014
Slow like planets I’ll come,
as certain as glaciers and disease
a lovely plague upon this land
of fungus and food-bearing trees.
There is an age to matricide.
300 million years ago,
a paramecium split
and split again.
That was when we invented death.
It has been several decades since
that formation of the stars
and the felicity of orbits
maligned into recognizable shapes:
a crab, a pair of brothers
sharing a life.
One day I’ll ascend
to where the hydrogen obey me
and the slight edge of this
great earth releases my soul
and falls and falls and falls.
Former Poet Mar 2019
listen closely
...ssssszzzssssstt!
you miss this amongst the company of others
the smell of juniper
(almost like bark)
that beloved word
so close to Jupiter
her rings an engagement to us all
(for our world)
benevolence // protection
(or a curse?)
could've been stellar dust
instead paramecium
plus-plus
double-plus
plus-us
+++
instead here we are
drinking fizz & juniper
till we forfeit our favour
(insatiable fervour)
with the fates, and Jupiter
juniper, juniper
'tis such, 'tis such
for now, it's enough.
Clara Oswin May 2014
I think it's beautiful
The way we can look up to the sky at night
And see into so many different centuries of time
A spliced ray of light from prehistoric eras
Two from the creation of the universe
From so many different times
Before we even existed
Before a single cell or paramecium
Before words like him and her and love
There was light
And we get to see that light
After it's three-billion-year journey to reach us
Dennis Willis Sep 2019
The ache of the mammal or primate
The pull of the lizard toward Heat
The Paramecium tasting satisfaction
The protons feeling the raw power
The wantonness of physics
The ******* Sizzle of chemistry

Pulling the hair of the universe
That tight black hole
Swallowing salty time
In a showy slow motion

Gravitic disturbance
gyros into a stars face

This pulling together
This entanglement
of drawn
fabrics ricked

Universes for sale
The latest to the oldie but goodies
You'll find a way to enjoy
Or pretend to defend

Your very own
Universe

Observe your eyes passing
this line
John Prophet May 7
Pay grade.
Every
twitching
form
of life
has a
pay grade.
A level of
understanding
it can’t
go beyond.
From the
simple
to the
apex.
Each
has a
knowledge
sphere
beyond
which it
can’t
pass.
Knowledge
beyond
perception.
Paramecium
to ****
Sapiens.
Hard as
they might.
There’s a
limit.
A border
of capability.
Infinity
offers
infinite
knowledge.
On the
infinite
knowledge
scale.
Paramecium
to humans
offers little
separation,
difference.
JaxSpade Apr 2020
Waiting
For the freedom

To hug my friends
When I see them

Waiting out the hysteria
Of love becoming a bacteria

Waiting to get back to
Intimacy
And stop calling it a toxicity

Waiting for simplicity
How we used to live
In our past history

Fearing God
Instead of bureaucracy

I'm waiting to get back to mediocrity
Getting back to church
Where no one notices me

I'm ready to not wash my hands
And put toilet paper back on the stands

I'm ready to take on any disease
Known to man

Because I fear not a bacteria
A virus
Or a paramecium

I'm ready to ride bare back
And throw away all my condoms

I'm ready to not care anymore
And hug your ****** face!
Victor D López Jan 2020
We alone in the universe?
Inconceivable! Absurd! Illogical!
So why the silence?

We’ve been screeching “We’re here!”
For the better part of a century,
Sending our best and worst broadcasts,
(Mostly the latter) that have now traveled,
Nearly 100 light years in the Milky Way.

A-bombs and H-bombs also send out clear signals.

They know we’re here.
So why the silence?
Could it be they did respond and are here?
Perhaps.

But two other options are likelier, I think.
One, that they saw, heard, examined our broadcasts,
And did as we might if we discovered,
An island populated by billions of rabid baboons.
Unpleasant. Dangerous. Irrelevant.

Another possibility is that they cannot distinguish,
Our primitive signals from the general background noise,
And natural radio emissions of a static-filled universe,
Any more than we could hear the most ardent efforts,
Of a paramecium vigorously thrashing its cilia,
In an effort to let its existence be known to the universe.

No, we are not alone.

We can’t possibly be.

We are just not worthy of acknowledgement,
Or perhaps of notice.

Worse yet, we might be like a cancer cell,
Attempting to communicate with the body it inhabits.
Whether it succeeds through its efforts,
Or is discovered by independent means,
Is there any question as to its likely fate?
I flew over myself today
Not under or next to
Well I guess it's all the same

A dewdrop and a spider's leg
A paramecium and a Michelin tire
A speck of patience on the dusty guitar

Some angels said I lost my way
Well, I'd see things the other way
But there is no other way

A caterpillar in the sassafras
A punk band you never listened to
A canal passing free radicals into the ocean
Free radicals are like shooting stars in your membrane

Me, I'm free
I am a free radical
I am a lawless creature
Trying to pass as a repository
For wayward conscious energy

Yeah! Ra ra ra!
Let the sun shine on!
Write melancholy poems
About how you feel
How you feel it all means nothing
Yes, live on!

Disjointed but go on:

And then you said there's not one way
Honey-- we were built the same
We're teaching ghosts arithmetic
It keeps us in good conversation
And you know I let you sink in
When I do
You can feel it
We're permissive.

— The End —