"protein" poems
My nutritionist told me I need to increase my caloric intake and eat more carbs. I asked my nutritionist, “aren’t carbs bad for you?”
She said, “No. Carbs are not bad for you, carbs are an immediate energy source for your body to use, what’s bad for you is not eating enough and passing out at the end of the day like some ***** ***** Now eat some carbs and get some meat on those bones before I order you a ******* pizza myself.”
I should mention that my nutritionist is also my best friend. I call her Lady Reptar, because she is one. A lady, not a reptar, even though she’s twenty times more awesome than a dinosaur and fifty times nicer. She’s beautiful like a ************* daisy in the woods and she’s sharp and wittier than her cooking knives and she’s warmer than her father’s woodstove.
"So, do poppy seeds count as protein?"
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:53 PM UTC
the frustration I had
after failing
to bring myself to ******
for the
tenth
time this past week
makes me more
furious
than depressed
seriously
my *** drive
has always been high
as soon as I
got over
the shame
society places on women
for enjoying
their sexuality
I have always used
************
as a release
relieves
stress
leaves me
relaxed
and
content
or should I say,
left me
feeling that way
usually
it was once a day
fairly frequent
but, it
matched
my *** drive's
needs
what the **** is wrong with me
I have tried
imagining,
watching,
reading,
looking at
every form
of erotica
that exists
I have searched
through everything
I can find
from
****
******
stories,
comics
and my search history
will let you know
that I've searched
everything
from
****
to
******
to
interracial lesbian forced *******
and things
worse
than that
e v e r y t h i n g
used to take me,
oh, I dunno
maybe three minutes
with my ********
after
around an hour
is when I give up
now
I even bought
a different
********
NO
RELEASE
NO
PASSION
GONE
what is
WRONG
WITH
ME
oh yeah -
depression
I mean
I knew it was bad
when video games
no longer
had appeal
that was enough
games
have been a passion
and a hobby of mine
since I was five
the other hobby
I started a bit older than five
but
you stole that one, too
after depression
beat the **** out of me
on Tuesday
I thought that was it
thought
since the next morning
I awoke
without the urge
to **** myself
it was over
nope
you have robbed me
of the simplest
things
in my life
that give me pleasure
no more
wriggling
moaning
spasming
the tingling
sensation
that starts in my toes
and makes its way
up
the length of my body
the warmness
that follows
with it
the
satisfaction
slight smile
snuggly
sleepy
post ****** me
I miss her
give her
back
I miss my life
give it
back
this isn't
ME
for ***** sake!
I am a ******
witty
humorous creature
full of passion
looking
for opportunities
to get myself off!
not this
depressed
apathetic
vessel
without soul.
you won't stop
until you have
everything
in my life
you won't stop
until you
put
my soul in your mouth
chew
grind
crush it
your saliva
breaks me down
spit me out
please
I am fighting
for you to cough me up
regurgitate
the essence
of me
let me put myself
back inside this body
please
please
no
you won't stop
you will eat my soul
until
ever fiber
protein
ounce of health
I had
is now
inside of you,
depression
cold-hearted *****
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 6:10 AM UTC
She is A Queen
She's something special, similar to a candy coated dream.
The God in her will sooth you soul as if you were Listening To the sound of the rushing river Streams
Her spirit Shines brighter than a car's high Beams.
Her love is sweeter than brown sugar
And Me oh my she is Looker
Her big chestnut sultry eyes reveals the beauty of Her soul inside.
I can just smell the aroma of her Shea butter and coconut fragranced skin as it glows due to her internal flame shinning within.
Cocoa Brown is the color of her melanated Bronze complexion.
Man, her smile drives me wild.
That luminous smile, her glorious smile, is as gorgeous as the clouds when she shows her pearly whites.
It brightens my day like a lamp in the darkness of the night.
And her mind Is a secret treasure That only her King Can discover and uncover the bountiful mountains he'll climb.
She's Artistic and Musically Inclined
And at the drop of a dime shell bust out in A poetic rhyme
And her words, Gosh her blissfully profoundly spoken words, will send chills up your spine
She's My own little personal ray of sunshine
Radiating truth and her words are so kind
She's simply divine
She's a peacemaker staying serene
From the inside out she is a beautiful Human being
She's good for your mental hygiene
Kinda like how your body needs protein.
Royalty is embedded in DNA gene
And her crown is made of lustrous flowing locks shining like oil sheen.
She is Royalty, She's My sister from another Mister, She is an Unshaken, Strong, melanized Beautiful Queen.
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 12:55 PM UTC
Somehow your heart enzymes inveigled a way into my system
I surmise it was your energising tongue which smuggled them in
my pseudoanaphylactic longing to snuggle in vein against your protein
its aim a happy interaction tugged by frenzied polypeptide chains
when your petite triglycerides coil avidly around my pH changes
hydrolysis replenishes steroids to stop any pleasure level plunge
so that functional-group transfers may intervene at all active sites
supervising where coenzymes await love's coursing stem cell sights
that photosynthesise my eyes to sensitise to you despite the dark
dancing in all my living cells with infectious smiles an epidemic
when your DNA can't polymerase enough of the audacious lipids
pleasing as they kiss the density away of fatty acids on soft lips
that release protease inhibitors in ways not too selective
so our hearts find their metabolic pathway audaciously live
and offer themselves completely to a frolic in love reactive
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC
son spreads knee blood into ******* &/or
sidewalk chalk.
mixes reds to pinks with head cracking asphalt.
of god & country.
of soggy bread in a lunch-bag; snackpack readied.
he skates.
the concussed ****** of booming youth.
omega he:
to the wolf pack outers.
breathing love of summer, he
is the son drunk on hi-c
& burping.
watching teenaged supersoakers yodel
on a bridge.
florida.
son sneaks out late to rationalize
the city’s features
under strange light & love of nightly people.
boy sculpts body out of beast,
turned dark corners.
arrives swollen.
his father erects a roofed flattop in the backyard slab
with flood light electronics taught to worship
the shred.
mother rattles the blender
on the kitchen outskirts, ***** breathed
& nearing with hugs.
blister-itched.
glossed folds of scar tissue.
those days on summer-beyond when the neighborhood pulsates.
with satellite dishes tuneforking high-frequency vibrations
from outerspace & pigeons explode.
son’s ears bleed, &
the television goes unwatched.
he snaps plank & ankle protein, refurbishing
his legs into iron-rods
or wands of summer anthem.
cold war.
he empties sugar-sweat & toxins
into the storm-drain.
essence of wet heat, skin pinched, & friend
of ghosts.
a three legged dog lay in the shade
leisurely watching the boy skate
on endless.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
Crafty, they say, He's getting crafty
crafty with my lies and my made-up meals
crafty with my sound-blocking tactics
crafty with hiding the burning lines of white and red.
Baking, they say, He's getting into baking
baking my binges
baking my restriction
baking my omad
baking my sad-looking low-cal low-fat low-sugar low-carb high-protein
'meal'.
Crochet, they say, He's getting into crochet
crocheting ankle warmers to make my legs look skinny
half-finger gloves in an attempt to curb the permafrost that has begun to
knit itself around my bones.
Healthy, they say, He's getting healthy
as i workout until i faint
and do sit-ups until i have bruises on my spine.
fruit and veg and vitamins take priority
and suddenly i have taken an interest in running.
Sep 18, 2022
Sep 18, 2022 at 12:40 PM UTC
This was just published so it is copyright 2015 by Holy Cow Press ~ mce
Poverty is the fence around your life. Poverty wakes you up at 4 AM only to whisper meaningless slogans in your ear. It is the school of Piranha nibbling at the back of your brain. It is two hours waiting in the anteroom of despair for $22 worth of food stamps and being glad to be there. It is changing your phone number frequently because bill collectors are such boring conversationalists. It is the empty space your heels used to fill. It is letting your hair grow long and scraggly and your grizzled beard sprout because you know that although you sleep in rented rooms tonight, the street is not far off, and you want to fit in when you arrive. Poverty scalds the lint from your pockets. It is your private Treblinka within which you rage but are crushed. It is desperate prayers against dental catastrophes, blown tires, surprises of any sort. Poverty is when everything you own is frayed including your nerves from sleepless moments spent trying to solve the equation that will make X number of dollars cover X + ? number of bills, knowing that such math would defeat Newton or Einstein. Poverty is eying the cat's kibble imagining that with a bit of sugar and a splash of milk it might be fine and then eyeballing the cat himself thinking of protein of last resort and trying not to measure him against the microwave door. You ration your cigarettes; whiskey is a fading memory. Passing a diner on the street, you catch a whiff of burgers too expensive to consider and experience a Pavlovian moment. Poverty is trying to keep your head up and then remembering you pawned your neck. Poverty is watching the needle eat your last few gallons of gas. Poverty is the archeology of despair. It portends the death of irony. There is nothing ironic about a car with 217,000 miles and no insurance on it. Facts are facts in the world of poverty. Poverty is the last quarter reclaimed from beneath the cushions. It is too much time and not enough quarters. It is the specious logic of the self-righteous proclaiming that you deserve to be poor because you are, which in Amerika passes for wisdom. Poverty makes each day like the next because nothing does not vary. It is who you are and where you are going, although you won't get far. It is the life you lead inside the fence. It is the sum of what you lack. It just is.
- mce
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC
i don't
even know him.
i only recognize his vitals
rapidly diminishing on
the screen before me.
i'm wrong, this is wrong,
everything is wrong.
i'm trespassing on
vulnerability.
he knows;
he gets it --
how this place
can make you
feel like hell
without even
trying.
if belief were among
my faults, indeed
it would **** me to
scroll again
(and again)
through artificial
papyrus, through
reeds and lights
and electronics;
because every
new click
brings another
wrench.
tug at the
heartstrings;
what heartstrings?
these leave nothing behind.
because of you,
i am destroyed.
i am assimilated,
i am protein.
because of you,
i am denatured.
turn down your flame, nolan,
there isn't enough fuel
for you to burn so
brightly
for so
long.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 1:34 AM UTC
to the hometown i hate,
i miss seeing the october sunrise while taking the train to school every morning
to the hometown i hate,
i miss being able to wear uggs, hats and scarves already at the end of september,
to the hometown i hate,
i miss being able to buy 90 cent face masks and my favorite protein bars at the drugstore 10 minutes away from me
to the hometown i hate,
i miss seeing the porsches and mercedes c-classes parked on the curbes of our sidewalks
to the hometown i hate,
i miss the quietness of my area
to the hometown i hate,
i miss being able to speak a language i know fluently, not worrying about the anxiety i get if i get into a complicated situation
to the hometown i hate,
i miss running in the quiet, clean, green forest next to us
to the hometown i hate,
i miss sleeping in my own bed, in the room i did not like
to the hometown i hate,
i miss being able to go to my fully-equipped kitchen and bake whenever i want to, which i complained was too small until i moved into my dorm
to the hometown i hate,
i miss you
Oct 31, 2021
Oct 31, 2021 at 3:26 AM UTC
Steak
Yummy, Juicy
Tender, Meaty, Scrumptious
You can get any kind you would like
Protein
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 8:33 AM UTC
“The most important scientific revolutions all include, as their only common feature, the dethronement of human arrogance from one pedestal after another of previous convictions about our centrality in the cosmos.”
Stephen Jay Gould
Give me
vacuum tube torus Lorentz-Klein interference receptors
dual noble-gas maser integration processors
at least one
prosthetic Gaussian carbon-coated ribosomal Tesla coil
an anthropomorphic hierarchical temporal meme-pseudopod
some
support vector k-nearest neighbor algorithms
reverse engineered quantum optic die-cast silica motherboards
self-assembling three dimensional electro-active protein polymers
maybe even
a superconducting spectral alkali resonance analyzer
paired with
harmonizing piezoelectric kinematic thermal modules
dipped in
subzero Kurzweil-circuit nanite neurotransmitters
and voila!
God.
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 5:18 PM UTC
Deep in the Ocean of Time
Right into the layers of space
Dwelling through infinite dimensions
There existed an atom
It searched for a friend
Found one to its taste
Lost an electron
Gained an electron
A bond was then formed
It has no name
But there was no worry
For name is but an identification
But see there's some more atoms
And they too did the same
A little bit of sacrifice
For love needs it
Lost an electron
Gained an electron
A bond was then formed
They started dancing
Growing in complexity.
Living things, masses of atoms for they were
Dancing a pattern ever more intricate
DNA and protein
Cells and tissues
Life came
At long last man came
He was the observer
Who measures the universe
Out of the cradle
Onto the dry land
Here it is standing
Atoms with consciousness
Matter with curiosity
Stands in the ocean of time
Wondering
Aye
I, a universe of atoms?
Or an atom in the universe?
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 5:50 AM UTC
Oh mighty powerhouse and largest gland
Snug in the abdominal cavity
Though few thy function fully understand
Should praise thee with the utmost gravity
Three pounds thy weight, but worth thy weight in gold
Four precious lobes through portal fissure fed
Tiny lobules in hexagonal mould
Each one formed by cuboidal cells widespread
Arranged in columns round a central aisle
Converting glucose into glycogen
Form plasma proteins and essential bile,
A, D, prothrombin and fibrinogen
De-aminates the protein that we eat
De-saturates the fat, produces heat
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
Eggs, eggs, toss them high in the air
Catch em, and gargle, and mash them, and swear
Eat them with shells, eat them with sauce
Eat them with bags, eat them with moss
Eggs, eggs, between sandwich bread
That's what the wise elderly miller had said
Before came the bomb and he had dropped dead
Before being poisoned by a surplus of lead
And then came a centipede, long and sanguine
And bit a small child, so recently weaned
Off the protein derived from his mother's fine eggs
So he had to start munching on his mother's fine legs
"Be warned" said the Miller, his hair all askew
While dousing his wounds with mountains of glue
A tapeworm emerged, and looked toward the sky
Feeling envy toward all the birds that could fly
But the Miller was quicker, even in old age
He smacked the worm soundly, in a manner enraged
Bruised from the damage, and covered in glue
The worm turned away from the sky that was blue
Never with pelicans would he fly with delight
Never with owls would he soar through the night
For all Darwin's cruelty, an injustice rings
Tapeworms simply have no need for wings
So he bit the old Miller, and laid ten thousand eggs
They hatched and devoured his liver and legs
And as the man writhed, waiting to die
He vomited upward, up toward the sky
The tapeworm went flying, up toward the clouds
The air felt exhilarating, the rushing wind loud
For once in his life, he soared with the birds
Then in came a swallow, and bit off a third
His body, segmented, fell in parts to the ground
Tears seeped from his eyes, his face in a frown
From the ground he gazed up into the ominous fog
Before being lapped up by an unlucky dog
The End
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 1:20 AM UTC
I'm not sure time
heals everything,
but eventually after
we have thought about
it so much, it becomes
routine and routines
are easier and easier
the more that you
do
them.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 9:37 PM UTC
The ties that bind us are the very ones that separate us.
We have shared a lot of things in common;
And yet most of those common things put a barrier between us.
We have laughed at the same jokes,
Danced to the same drums,
Rejoiced to similar songs,
And sang in similar tunes;
The ties that bind us together.
And yet our differences are always ever apparent.
For as I laugh with tears in my eyes,
You laugh with your teeth,
Hiding the very emotion that binds us from the world to see;
As I dance to the budima drums,
You dance to the drum beats of the kuomboka,
Having the sound that binds us, separate us by how its produced.
I dance to ching’ande and you dance to mfukutu,
Excusing the world from seeing our similar steps.
Oh, the ties that bind us.
I sang Jesus loves me when you sang give me the bible;
Spreading your words in Bemba as I spread mine in Tonga.
How the ties that bind us are so quick to separate us.
Wow, I say to myself as I look at you standing right in front of me.
The bonds of our ties grow stronger as we grow older,
And yet weaker with the passage of time;
We share from the same vein, bound by blood forever;
And yet the differences in the ******* that provided for us separate us.
We come from the same womb,
And yet the little differences in the arrangement of our protein molecules make us different.
Indeed the ties that bind us.
Our mother rejoices in calling us all her children;
And yet the men that take pride in us differ.
Our father sings songs of the products of his manhood;
And yet the women that sing along with him sing differently.
He is the tie that binds;
And he the one that separates us.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 9:54 AM UTC
I cry out:
I cannot do this
without you, ******
my own strength
is not sufficient.
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 1:12 AM UTC
He crinkled the daily
paper and thought out
loud, "You're my
best friend."
She scuffed her
kitten heels, prodding
for more. Far inside she
told herself to take it lightly.
He knew she knew
that he knew it was
temporary. Acting as if
she made him happy.
She sunk deep in
the velvet green
couch. Cons and pros
of being the leaver or the left.
He stared past Valentine
cards and the spot on
the carpet, where they
laughed and spilled tomato soup.
Their faces drooped and became
that soup. Sodium and protein
soaking into the ground
every which-way.
She resided and sat
up out of their yard-sale
bought couch. She set her
mind on staying by his side.
He toppled over on
the yard tools he never
touched. Now next to his
side was the Earth's crust.
She was left in the air
and he laid in muck.
His voice played over in her
head, "You're my best friend."
May 10, 2012
May 10, 2012 at 2:32 AM UTC
thin mints
thin lines
thin ice
"get thin now for the low price of
your soul and entire indisposable income"
thinning hair
thinning patience
thinning shears
"wow what an amazing deal!"
i'll take it
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 2:21 AM UTC
that’s how you like your poetry,
That’s how you would like everything,
No stress, no test, easy on the breast,
but short and sweet has no protein,
won’t build your bones, quite contrary,
the poem that doesn’t make you think,
it’s just a cavity, a precurse *to self~decay
a drip dripping in just another day of you* evaporating
Mar 29, 2025
Mar 29, 2025 at 2:54 PM UTC
On A Diet
The country is on a diet,
drinking coke with no sugar,
eating burgers with no bun,
running on the treadmill;
it's powdered protein for lunch.
It's straight tequila in the evening,
a light head and guilty fries at night.
The country is on a diet,
doing yoga over yoghurt pots,
training their minds with sudoku and solitaire,
rubbing salt and condition into their hair.
It's 6 a.m. gym sessions,
it's squats on the living room floor,
the country is on a diet, my friends,
and so we have no time for truth, or war.
The country is on a diet,
avocado in the breadcrumb,
aspirin in the salt-shaker,
food numb on the tongue
and those slim-shakes always failed to deliver.
Thigh gaps and mind-the-gaps,
all these signposts for a cleaner living,
no dust on the shelf,
no bags 'neath your eyes to hide
the lack of sleep
and your ailing mental health.
The country is on a diet,
drinking tea with no milk,
eating carrot sticks with best-value dip,
running on the treadmill,
we never get too far.
It's straight tequila in the evening,
it's "anything goes" in the dark.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
Don’t let the last name fool you of Greene
As you continue to read, you will understand what made him structured lean
Mr. Greene was a man who won International Federation of Bodybuilders of MR. WORLD title twice
There were times when Mr. Greene called Joe Weider and asked for advice
It was intensity with the weights
Then taking in food protein and drinking protein shakes
Mr. Greene is a personal friend of mine
He used to tell me stories of bodybuilding ways
Also stay away from drugs and go astray
Yet he was every bodybuilder’s friend
But on the Bodybuilding stage, it was about the win
Mr. Greene’s muscles were his voice on stage
In the audience, it was the posing that did amaze
It left the audience and Judge’s in a daze
It was his proportion being the fine line
Then it was the repetitions that contributed being combined
Under the spotlight, Mr. Greene was the terminator
But it was his posing being the illustrator
Franklyn Greene was focused down to the finish
This is what makes him distinguished
A Bodybuilding champion who was meant to be
The world witnessed and was able to see
Mr. Greene made Bodybuilding everything that it should be
He is now retired from competition, but continues to train
Bodybuilding in his heart still remains
His motto, “Train with focus and eye on detail”
Franklyn Greene who did achieve and many bodybuilding awards he did receive. Accomplishments with many wins, and with a past being a milestone, but the name of Franklyn Greene who is still known.
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 12:21 PM UTC
Ana has made her debut once again.
Telling me that I’m not
pretty enough.
skinny enough.
worth enough.
All I want is to look like other girls around me.
To grasp the affection from lovers.
But how do I expect myself to grasp love if Ana is taking every ounce of myself with her.
I don’t even have the strength nor energy to grasp the protein shake that’s been flung right in front of me.
I know Ana is toxic but yet her burning words sound so sweet.
Too sweet.
Her burning words keep me burning countless calories.
Giving me only enough energy to listen to her.
Ana has made her debut once again and I am once again begging her to leave.
Apr 7, 2021
Apr 7, 2021 at 1:54 AM UTC
when i look
in the mirror,
i do not see the
“oh my god, you’re so skinny,”
i do not see the
“you need to eat more,”
not the
“there’s no way you’re not anorexic,”
not the
“i wish my body looked like yours.”
when i look
in the mirror,
i see the
“you’re fat,”
i see the
“she’s skinnier than you,”
i see the
“you need to be skinny, or you won’t get a husband,”
i see the
“eat less,”
i see the
"you need to be the skinniest one in your friend group,"
i see the
trans fat
saturated fat
cholesterol
sodium
dietary fiber
sugar
protein
Calorie Count.
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 4:32 PM UTC