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"phylum" poems
Secrets are my amplifier. They burn in my heart like a forest fire. I am made of those closeted items they live in me like I'm their phylum. For only I can keep such dark whispers hid inside with painful shivers. Speaking as the queen of hiding I can assure that it is only time you are biding. If you believe you can keep silent think again, because the thoughts get violent. Secret keeping is not for the faint of heart it is, in fact, a sacred art. (d.d.b)
0
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 11:06 PM UTC
Secrets
Lately I have been over taken by a strange urge to high five a sloth. In truth I cannot explain this at least with any sense of legitimacy. I just feel like it needs to happen. When it does it will be like me building a bridge. Across species? Maybe a class or phylum? I have not taken biology so i don't know jack about this hierarchy of life business. I also feel like sloths can teach us more than we can teach them Like our lives are so fast paced like a race and we are struggling to get to a finish line That doesn't exist... Sloths are like slow the **** down... It'll be okay... You'll get there... I promise. I kinda think i need that in my life. A person... or a sloth... to just tell me it'll be alright. I try and be that for so many other people But I'm constantly losing my **** on the inside. Like most of the time I'm fine I can manage life But that fear of dying alone unloved It's always there In the back of my mind That can get the upper hand if my guard is down... That **** scares me... It's an irrational fear I know that  I am loved by many I got buckets of love in this ***** makin the Cosby's blush with all this love. But still this emptiness persist... like i am incomplete on some level Like i have to fix myself But I know on a conscious level that.. I am enough. But on some other level I don't fully believe this... And I need someone to tell me this... I need to highfive a sloth...
0
Jul 27, 2012
Jul 27, 2012 at 10:26 PM UTC
inane ramblings
Apple taste Placed atop Your head-- Shotgun *Klu Klux Klank* Bang 00 Buck Shattering Thine Crystalline ***** Optera Forever Encased Behind Glass Locked and keyed Plead Plead Please Let me out To Use my wings I'll allow myself This Dream Only for a While of Rubbing Antennae (With"you") Caked In Pollen (All the other children used To laugh at my unobtrusive Thorax) I forgot The taste Of Breeze Please Free me from This prison Cell Inside Your Nucleus Warm and inviting I think I could learn To lov- To lo- No, I understand You don't use the L-word In this Kingdom Phylum Class Order Family Genus Species You Use much more subtle Habitual Mating Rituals Practiced by Boys And Girls Alone Once Their government Handbooks are issued Ashamed and Full of doubt They seek out The silence Offered on Forgotten Moons Where they can Meditate to The infinite hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm of the universe You can hear it Now If you listen close Enough *Almost A Whispering Deep inside (me?) I Think I  could... love you*
0
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 3:01 AM UTC
Poetry A-Plenty For the Poor and for the Gentry
I don't get **** sometimes It makes me feel dumb and incapable I wish we could transform science So it wouldn't feel like a burden Where is the spark of learning? The prime aspect of education Formulas, calculation, books At the end of the day, I feel like nothing is useful Fluids, kinematics, gravitation Atoms, molecules and electromagnetism Phylum and classes of plants and animals Calculus and relation and function Sometimes, I feel like maybe I'm just better off at poems
0
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 1:44 AM UTC
Science Student
Nobody likes me now I don't care Everybody hates me now They've got some nerve.. Everybody's looking down I'm feeling cyclical What should I do about These ******** Pariah Sin in over abundance Liar Reality could never change Despondent Sacrifice util it's incumbent Pariah You love the fair exchange Gauge the metric By which you judge The proper usage Harsher than the light on my keyboard Often peckish Killing skeptics The proper usage It all falls in the same vein Forgiveness to a fault line My god All I've ever wanted was a new design Hiding away in the suffering Fudge the figure for the slumbering Drab as they may come Welcome to the whole **** phylum Encroaching on the underlying theming And everyone seems confused I took the world In my hands Looked down Then up again They all were screaming About the meaning Under god Claiming that they were free men No resolve left, I stopped listening
0
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 4:29 AM UTC
birdie
They inject it into your brain Directly through the skin and through the skull Don’t even ask about the pain Anyway, it seeps into the cortex Lighting up the neurons with memories What memories? First piggy back, first pulled tooth, first death wish Soft stuff springing into sparks And then oh, the flames Don’t even ask about the pain The straining emotion remains, of course And new connections are made Stemming phylum connections between One ethereal feeling to the overwhelming onslaught of You know, things Then the frontal lobe takes a break It sips that stuff and stops And thinks- we all know where that leads Detachment and dissociation start dancing They tango to the dull beat of your heart It thump thumps and there’s nothing else really Your brain wakes up every few minutes The background music playing And it makes you **** in this weird cold air Stuff happens, things stay alive And the injection well It’s faded the minute it was dispensed You were never more or less awake But it’s all still moving slow-quick Slow down, you say quickly It speeds up You’re feeling everything that’s ever been felt What a rush what an end Now it ends. You slouch You see there isn’t a needle or a pen Nor a blade of any kind And the thumps are replaced by heavy thuds The sound rattling in your ear canal You inject it into your brain again Nothing You get up to brush your teeth and wash your face.
0
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 9:31 AM UTC
It - from them, or from me
My physics teacher told me that the acceleration due to gravity is 9.81 m/s/s
 yet this law does not apply to things 
that are either too large or too small.

 I feel like my presence 
defies all laws of physics,
 as i feel larger than necessary, 
out of place,
 struggling to fit into the confined hallways of my school,
 doomed to be forever compared to the pixies that float
 down crowded hallways,
 slipping past each other 
with agility I can only dream of having.

 However, at the same time 
i feel tiny and insignificant, 
as my voice does not project 
in a sea of too much static, 
and my physical presence does not equate
 to my lack of a voice 
and lack of a self-dignity.

 The biggest flaw in science is that it is a data based art form—
scratch that, it is not an art form, 
it is a carefully executed set of rules,
 in which statistics are king
and the stripping down of all things human,
 is only what becomes of this “objective observation”.

 It is ironic that in which when we began the processes of science,
 and delved into the depths of our curiosity
 we forgot the real meaning of humanity and every
 kingdom phylum class order family genus species
 is only a testament 
as to how far we’ve gone 
into taking so many parts of a whole
and breaking them into infinitesimally smaller pieces. 

 Ironically, with advancements in chemistry 
we realize how large we are in comparison
 with the atoms and quarks that merely make up
 imaginary fractions of our beings.
 And since atoms are mostly just empty space, 
 one can argue that the things that make up who we are, arguably do not 
take up any space 
at all.

 But in retrospect, the advancements of astronomy 
help us realize that 
we are a lot smaller than we think we are,
 as in a cosmic scale that even God has trouble wrapping his hands around,
the Earth becomes a quark 
that makes up the state of our being. 

On a cosmic and molecular scale of things we belong
 in such an age in which
we are torn between extreme larges and extreme smalls,
and finding the middle is too unsatisfactory, 
as humans tend to have a tendency
to claw for too many sides. 
 I am both a girl and a student of science
 and a student of whatever the cosmos
 has granted among us unfortunate humans
 to latch our desires upon,
yet I do not understand, 
why 4 dimensional concepts 
have to be watered down 
into 2 dimensional figures.
0
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 10:01 AM UTC
Superstring
My physics teacher told me that the acceleration due to gravity is 9.81 m/s/s
 yet this law does not apply to things 
that are either too large or too small.

 I feel like my presence 
defies all laws of physics,
 as i feel larger than necessary, 
out of place,
 struggling to fit into the confined hallways of my school,
 doomed to be forever compared to the pixies that float
 down crowded hallways,
 slipping past each other 
with agility I can only dream of having.

 However, at the same time 
i feel tiny and insignificant, 
as my voice does not project 
in a sea of too much static, 
and my physical presence does not equate
 to my lack of a voice 
and lack of a self-dignity.

 The biggest flaw in science is that it is a data based art form—
scratch that, it is not an art form, 
it is a carefully executed set of rules,
 in which statistics are king
and the stripping down of all things human,
 is only what becomes of this “objective observation”.

 It is ironic that in which when we began the processes of science,
 and delved into the depths of our curiosity
 we forgot the real meaning of humanity and every
 kingdom phylum class order family genus species
 is only a testament 
as to how far we’ve gone 
into taking so many parts of a whole
and breaking them into infinitesimally smaller pieces. 

 Ironically, with advancements in chemistry 
we realize how large we are in comparison
 with the atoms and quarks that merely make up
 imaginary fractions of our beings.
 And since atoms are mostly just empty space, 
 one can argue that the things that make up who we are, arguably do not 
take up any space 
at all.

 But in retrospect, the advancements of astronomy 
help us realize that 
we are a lot smaller than we think we are,
 as in a cosmic scale that even God has trouble wrapping his hands around,
the Earth becomes a quark 
that makes up the state of our being. 

On a cosmic and molecular scale of things we belong
 in such an age in which
we are torn between extreme larges and extreme smalls,
and finding the middle is too unsatisfactory, 
as humans tend to have a tendency
to claw for too many sides. 
 I am both a girl and a student of science
 and a student of whatever the cosmos
 has granted among us unfortunate humans
 to latch our desires upon,
yet I do not understand, 
why 4 dimensional concepts 
have to be watered down 
into 2 dimensional figures.
Continue reading...
48
Butterflies and dragonflies, Weaving trails on unseen paths, Bees that bumble, buzzing beautifully, In the light and heat of the humid day. Flowers' centres are a delightful repast, To the insect kingdom that wants summers' bounty to last, spiders hold it all together with the webs they spin, The acrobats and airborne members leave mere morsels for those below. Those whose many legs, walk and only, leave a microscopic footprint, Devour, carry to store these remnants of the phylum's failures and death, They eat to live for the moment, they store not for themselves but for the next generation, For in their lives of living for the moment, they too want to know if the next bite ............ will be enjoyed by them or will be them......
0
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC
Natural Fear
The more I learn, the more I realize how little I know… which insightful, gutsy, entrancing, catchy apothegm attributed to Socrates by way of Plato subsequently self ranking myself amidst Phylum Chordata with the Dodo bird Class Aves (namely said extinct flightless winged creature with a mass of 29 – 51 pounds Oh!) once endemic to the island of Mauritius, east of Madagascar in the Indian Ocean, none would be espied, no matter how thorough going across aquatic spreadsheet, one might row eventually coordinating dropping vertical column in toto arriving back to original mentally ponderous premise gamboling feint enroute to see Old Man Wizard Of Oz meets Crow Medicine Show pitching thy quasi recursive query - bro ching concurrence with another maxim to boot “ignorance iz bliss”, which lack o'learn'n doss appeal to this old coot, yet such pithy accordance came to this smart *** to late, a mister wordsmith with a palm pilot maximum glute clamors (at risk of life and limb) to hoot and holler when new kernel of knowledge gleaned finds me mute as if raw bit of savored information akin to unearthing a rare gem, or rare species of newt temporarily allaying fervent quest to root thru hefty tomes of great literature, and tracts that suit many other subjects, less to be arrogant and toot my own horn, but more so... to satisfy an increasingly insatiable hunger grow wing nsync with unquenchable thirsty ambition less for dough (cuz bing po' with treasure trove of voluminous expansive bookish notions doth shaw surpass becoming suddenly wealthy tin *** hustlers with un hewn fifty nine shades of gray straw this haint no cowardly lion seeking Androcles to extract thorn from hum my faux paws.
0
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 7:01 PM UTC
Aye Am The Questioning Sort
The more I learn, the more I realize how little I know… which insightful, gutsy, entrancing, catchy apothegm attributed to Socrates by way of Plato subsequently self ranking myself amidst Phylum Chordata with the Dodo bird Class Aves (namely said extinct flightless winged creature with a mass of 29 – 51 pounds Oh!) once endemic to the island of Mauritius, east of Madagascar in the Indian Ocean, none would be espied, no matter how thorough going across aquatic spreadsheet, one might row eventually coordinating dropping vertical column in toto arriving back to original mentally ponderous premise gamboling feint enroute to see Old Man Wizard Of Oz meets Crow Medicine Show pitching thy quasi recursive query - bro ching concurrence with another maxim to boot “ignorance iz bliss”, which lack o'learn'n doss appeal to this old coot, yet such pithy accordance came to this smart *** to late, a mister wordsmith with a palm pilot maximum glute clamors (at risk of life and limb) to hoot and holler when new kernel of knowledge gleaned finds me mute as if raw bit of savored information akin to unearthing a rare gem, or rare species of newt temporarily allaying fervent quest to root thru hefty tomes of great literature, and tracts that suit many other subjects, less to be arrogant and toot my own horn, but more so... to satisfy an increasingly insatiable hunger grow wing nsync with unquenchable thirsty ambition less for dough (cuz bing po' with treasure trove of voluminous expansive bookish notions doth shaw surpass becoming suddenly wealthy tin *** hustlers with un hewn fifty nine shades of gray straw this haint no cowardly lion seeking Androcles to extract thorn from hum my faux paws.
Continue reading...
54
what is it that makes you so close-minded so blind-sighted by the world around you you get offended by the smallest things as if the world and the people in it owe something - as if you are the king but you aren't are you you are despicable, mad, and irritable who has put that mask over your eyees who has told you all of these lies you are no different that us no bigger, no better we are the same but you can't see it that way you think we're different because we aren't your color that we who are taller are none less than a monster so i am here to tell you that we are the same we are the same species, phylum, and domain our hair is different, yes, eyes and skin but cut us open and you'll see that we're kin open your eyes and realize that we are made of the same ash and dust that we all have the very same lust the lust for freedom for the death of jealousy so don't come around just to claim that you're bigger and better and that we're all insane because i'll be quick to say that we are the same like it or not the fact cannot be fought you are no different no better, no more sane so don't judge us because we won't be slain by your filthy thoughts and hateful eyes me and my guys - you cannot buy so if you can't open your eyes, your mind, your thoughts leave here and be gone
0
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 10:59 AM UTC
we are the same
Wakeful zero, peerless March, longbow that bears the seasons’ arch, when mist and windstorms pelt the blank slates of cold-stupored trees. Do I wake up yet? Dare I to unfreeze? they ponder, short of language, brains abuzz in taproots, dormant xylem filling phylum with a flash of namefulness past gray despair— who grows? What draws them there, gathered before they sprouted in the epoch mire of waste that feeds them, nurture dense distraction from the trod-upon. Stay put! They rest a lot upon your back, from holding nests to lightning’s crack— yet time forgets you. Hashtagged, color-marked you’re not, a name once only March forgot now baffles subjects of a sheltered, sweaty throne. Good thing you hold your own whate’er they call you. Naming stirs you from the sleep you keep, six thousand nicknames ere you rest again. And man, forget you as he may, looks to your silent cue to stay, or migrate to some panicked place you never knew. What came before was rough— you’ll grow through people, too.
0
Nov 29, 2019
Nov 29, 2019 at 3:04 PM UTC
When the Trees Choose Their Name
Shut away from public view behind high walls and landscaped gardens, Antiseptic wards where beds have strong restraints, and none are pardoned. Seldom are the inmates given visits by their family members, those that have forgotten kinfolk cling to life like dying embers. Who would wish to see some brother, giggling, imbecilic, drooling? Who would wish to see some sister, ***** round her ankles pooling? Then there are the psychopaths, the freaks deformed, and those possessed; sedatives and exorcism pacify the most distressed. When the sun goes down no shadows lengthen in stark corridors. Never-winking neon tubes ensure that light’s forever yours. Even so when night has fallen always come the sounds of Hell. Slamming doors and running footsteps, screams and shouts - a tolling bell. Lost souls roaming empty stairways, disembodied spirits howling. Bodies stiff with medication twitch whilst cotton sheets be-fouling. And when dawn returns to shine upon this Godforsaken phylum, Nature wipes a tearful eye and grieves for mankind’s bleak asylum.
0
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 2:34 PM UTC
ASYLUM