"reproducing" poems
*Do you hear the music?
Does it give you ease?
Hold my hands and lean far back
Look up into the trees.
The answers there
That no one sees,
Imaginings to anyone who believes.
That magic
Can’t be deceived,
Open arms to be relieved.
Move with me
And be believed,
Cherished, loved
And well received.
Just dancing with the trees.
Sunlight flickering through a canopy of incandescent leaves
A gentle cool wind blowing to a background of confident blue.
All around me are the dancing trees.
Rejoicing it seems in their bright prancing hues.
Oak, hemlock, cottonwood, spruce and pine
All swaying together in perfect time.
I walk the path in awe of it all
Listening to the spreading news.
The earth it seems
Has reached the dawning of a new day
Reproducing itself along the way.
I wonder if that’s really true
A year – can it be just a day?
If it is then I’m a part and so are you.
As we pass through this earthly delight
Another day of romance is on the way.
All the trees are out dancing tonight
Having put on their Sunday best.
Tonight they too can find this life's zest.
(Now move your body with the rhythm of the wind blown trees)
Let’s dance with them just for a little while.
Listen to the music of the air.
You move right – I’ll follow with a smile.
Then move left – the movement in your hair.
Living life with but one care
Taking this time to be aware.
Open your heart – no fear to share
Should or shouldn’t we dare?
This wonderful evening we are there.
Move again, I’ll take your hand
To and fro we say – isn’t it grand?
Waltzing – can you feel the breeze
In with a troop of trees?
I bow straight to my knees,
You follow and begin to see
Life and love and harmony
Peace of mind be seized.
Now holding on tight – still on your knees
Still moving to and fro I ask you please
Do you hear the music – does it give you ease?
Hold my hands and lean far back
And look up into the trees.
The answers there that no one sees
Imaginings to anyone who believes
That magic can’t be deceived
Open arms to be relieved
Move with me and be believed,
Cherished, loved and well received
Just dancing with the trees.*
Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 4:14 AM UTC
glows a rose nearby the dandelion
compete for petunia to grow near her;
in the harsh of daylight, swinging and proud
both,
two sides to the coin, beauty and beast, flower and ****
as we all do halve.
competition in the garden, in
recreation,
or reproducing, reseeding,
repopulating,
a woman, sees
in glory the flower.
I wither.
the ****
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC
How you mesmerize
How you mimic the seasonal calm
And quietude of the restless ocean
How you bow in concentration
To arch your absorbent nature
And rapture in a cosmetic smile that
Swallows like a whirl pool
How you carry the gravitation field
And the forces that pull and bind
How you repel sadness and sorrow
In all faces and brighten some gloomy soul
How you set the stage for colorful dreams
And some “sweetistic” imaginations
How you define beauty in high definition
A creature of absolutely amazing design
Turning a ghostly atmosphere of earth
Into a haze of bliss and paradise scenic
Wafting some breeze of glory
Refreshing souls lost the inferno beneath
How you dim audacious eye gaze
By the razor of your eyes that pierce
How you outshine daylight and light
Outsmarting the very phrase neat and tidy
You’re the best and not the rest without debut
It’s why they find no rest and burst for you
How you dazzle and outwit
Injecting madness in minds active
Accelerating the speed of hormones
Beyond light or supersonic speed
Desire giving way to passion sway
And the vocal chords automated confess it
How you **** and make alive
When you put it short and tight
And the fabric can’t bear it a moment
Reproducing a perfect figurine clone of yours
As though you would burst out from it
Electrify and sizzle hearts inflamed
That’s how you mesmerize me
Walk no more in my sight her highness
How you catch my eye miss sacred
And reign enthroned in my frontal lobe
How you consume my thinkative energy
And gear on the driving seat of my life
Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 8:10 AM UTC
My fingers
maddenly
stroke across
the letter-keys,
reproducing
my fiery thoughts
about you,
how I feel
& the acts
I want to do.
To kiss your lips
for an eternity,
and to trace
your beautiful form
forever
drives me
to the brink
of raw,
pure,
primordial creativity.
It's hard,
like granite,
these images imbedded
deep,
deep,
deep
inside my mind.
You intertwined,
wrapped around
my genetic impulses,
a ball of ions,
slapping me
into submission
& I release,
I release,
I release in spasms,
these multiple emissions.
Beautiful tokens
of my love for you,
unspoken
& electrical.
Do you ever think about me...
electronically?
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 8:55 AM UTC
she said
"biology is ruthlessly cold, without a soul,
it makes you think
your only purpose in life....
is to reproduce"
but isn't that it?
that's the point.
to be blinded by biology, psychology.
neurotransmitters.
into reproducing happily with a partner.
someone to gently
warm you with their hand's caress
until death makes you both cold?
i remember the days,
i stumbled about the world
fooled blind by notions.
fool me again.
i learn instead
cells form tissues, organs, ***** systems, bodies.
that clench and bend with emotion and thought...
but never touch.
even when closest,
separated.
the pressure felt
our own cells squishing together
to make sure of that.
do you know...
do you know that?
we never touch...
betrayed by biology
i let science and fact go
the flood
the realization
we never touch...
we never actually touch.
and i never was actually warm.
Sep 23, 2010
Sep 23, 2010 at 11:16 AM UTC
Dublin is soaking,
ink running on sentences, churning on the page.
America is splintering,
(the suburbs specifically, not the nation)
into leftovers of Ticonderoga No 2.
These streets breathe in and out and
up to clouds illuminated by the Temple Bar,
as people stream through Dublin's narrow straights,
running thick and bright and damp
soaked with the scent of amber,
brimming with warm words like barley and hops,
the world reflected through the half-empty glasses
abandoned to rest stale at the bar.
This boy is a livewire to a madness,
quivering gasps flying to spark on her tongue when
she finds the kiss in the corner of his mouth is
tightly stitched in with the sound of each smile.
Her hand still clings to the smells of sweat and beer
with miles of backtracking ahead.
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 9:46 PM UTC
In a perfect world…
Women aren’t ***** at such high rates.
They don’t suffer from debilitating invalidation.
Societal pressures to deliver a baby conceived by **** nonexistent.
In a perfect world…
Families are carefully planned with the right ingredients.
Women aren’t the only ones getting the **** end of the stick trying to
raise
care
build
a better human
than the ones already in the world.
Once that child is grown s/he has three options
become a well-adjusted cog in the clockwork of society
become a criminal that actively tears at the seams of society
or become an unexpected victim to society.
In a perfect world…
Women aren’t brutalized just to satisfy a man’s ego.
Our worth isn’t based on reproducing and rearing children.
We aren’t objectified; cut, chopped and reassembled
like slabs of meat a butcher can trim on a whim.
The v between our knees and the ******* on our chests
aren’t the most coveted features of a feminine figure.
Our brains and intelligence are the commodities, plus they last longer.
We band together in an effort to empower one another.
This isn’t a perfect world we live in though.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 10:50 AM UTC
If you take a microscope and zoom in, you will find millions of tiny bacteria, reproducing through fission and struggling to survive. If you take a telescope and zoom out you would see the universe ever-expanding. Between those two, bacteria and the universe, there is us- humans. And we reproduce and struggle and grow. Sometimes in life you will feel small like bacteria; sometimes you will feel as big as the universe but no matter where you go or what you do make sure you are always growing. It doesn't matter where you were planted; ALWAYS GROW!
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC
I remember being young and thinking I would have my life together when I was older.
That I was going to grow up and at some magical point, life would get better. Because I would be an adult and as an adult I would have infinite choices.
Infinite control.
But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the naivety of children protects them from foresight. They can’t think about the logistics.
Only the beginning and ending of dreams - never flanked with concern of the pathway in between.
Thus, as a child, I thought I would grow up, gain a sense of control, and have it all together. That I would be able to stop my parents from fighting, work a really fun job, and hang out with my brother on weekends. As a child, that’s honestly how I saw the world. I thought that the problems encountered by adults could be easily fixed because they were adults and they had control.
But I was wrong.
Death, among many other things, cannot be fixed.
I think that these beliefs held by children can be so strong that no matter how many adults tell them life is hard, they just can’t believe it. A sense of innocence so dense in nature protects children. They are so dearly sheltered, so entirely shielded from reality, they can’t imagine its entirety.
Five-year-old me knew nothing about this world.
That its entirety is built upon a give and take of growing physically and shrinking mentally and emotionally.
In which biologically, cells are reproducing and hearts are pumping blood but mentally and emotionally things are breaking down and all the time pieces are being stripped away. Pieces that won’t be given back.
Ever.
It’s sort of awful really.
Because nobody realizes until it’s too late. Until you’ve seen so many people break, you start to wonder if you’ve been broken too or if you’re still waiting.
For you tests, your trials, your tribulations.
As we age, we are broken over and over, only to sometimes be rebuilt. Sometimes rebuilt better and sometimes never rebuilt at all; never fixed.
And the worst part is the realization. Looking around and beginning to see the broken bits everybody has hanging by a thread; a quick patch up so they could go to work that day.
But patch ups don't last forever.
And sometimes things break more than once.
Sometimes the same exact wounds are reopened.
And sometimes, once people are broken in certain ways, they can’t be fixed.
Like an outdated piece of technology, that part just isn’t made anymore.
And nobody ever tells you this growing up. They can’t because you’re protected.
So as you go through life, your shield begins to wear and you begin to notice.
And after noticing it, you’re suspect to watch as people break one by one.
And then you’re left to ponder the arrival of your turn.
Or wonder if it’s already happened.
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 8:05 AM UTC
beware of those clone accounts
they're multiply in great amounts
as bacteria making its separation
inside a medical laboratory's location
one becoming two
two becoming four
four becoming eight
eight becoming sixteen
as you will so plainly see
from the above calculation
they're an ever increasing
population
at some internet sites
these clones are reproducing
with an alarming speed
they're coming into existence
like a full bushel bag
of sorghum seed
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 7:22 PM UTC
Doubt grows in my mind
Like earwigs
Nesting
Reproducing
A new generation
Chewing on little
Pink nerve endings
Slowly poisoning
Taffy pulling
All the sticky
Memories out
When you say you have your doubts
I hear mosquitos
I read broken glass
In my crystal ball
But all my tarot cards are wands
Hmmm...
In my head I'm already gone
Like that Eagles song
But to Santa Fe
Because slow is not a game
That I play well
The dragonflies in my stomach
Are ringing like lunch bells
And the doubt is
Curled up on the couch
Purring softly
Shedding everywhere
And I don't own a vacuum
It's everywhere
But I want to be with you
When you kiss me
It melts my insides
Little drops of mercury
In pills on the floor
Banned books you loaned
Burning up my naive little mind
Henry Miller took my innocence
A long time ago
I would never ask for it back
From an ex-pat
And the note taped inside the cover
Said You are divine
And I want you to be happy
With a pocket full of dust or a million dollars
But the doubt
Is like a dam
Bursting behind my eyes
Flooding every one-horse town in its path
Thank the Bureau of Reclamation for that
I may doubt till I die
But here's the thing
When you kiss me
It's like every little piece of me is tingling
Is ringing
Like those grade school
Lunch bells
And I'd make a crossroads deal
I'd sell my soul
And fill the emptiness with your blues
I'd do anything to get rid of the doubts
Curled up softly
Purring
Sleeping soundly on the foot of our bed
Shedding everywhere
The can of doubt food on the shelf
May contain arsenic
The closet may be cleaned out
Ready to hold our new vacuum
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 9:39 PM UTC
For I am exploding,
With bliss
In a reproductive ****
Sending my offspring
On the winds
Life taking hold
everywhere I go.
Burning.
Taking a moment of silence,
For dear Gaia
For giving me this time,
For all that made life possible,
For this burning to be alive.
For not being the cousins
in the woodstoves
fireplaces,
Slaves
which just got a taste,
burned and died.
For the match lights
Short life
Shorter than a candle light.
For who and where I am,
connected to the stars
who devour and mother all of our lives
Breathing
Inhaling
Exhaling
Consuming
Evacuating
Reproducing
Exploding
Imploding
Struggling to survive.
For all fire,
All life
through out the universe,
For all who will become
a dead silent
Unmoving
Cold
Cold
Cold
ember.
I pray,
Amen.
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
What is but should not be
passed on is
War
so when we coil aggressively into a
double helix bond
covalently
If we think of Love and Peace
while reproducing
Would
our child be a new generation
without the
instinct
inborn to ****
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 1:20 AM UTC
I had to do it, since I wanted to see him again
one last time, it was OK
Just a guy in a typical poofy too big man's shirt
Funny how men try to puff themselves up with their clothes and suit
and we try to look smaller,
undershirt borders underneath too big white sleeve his wife bought
A married weight, a paunch that began at chest level
and made him look like a mango and brown slacks
a tan, and that curly hair with the little twirl on to that seemed to asked to be
grabbed onto and pulled back
and his authority the sexiest part
I needed him to sign a form and he took a long time to sign it
read every tiny thing, as I squirmed inside, but sat up straight and
perky so happy to be here.
was he drawing out--for me?
Then he looked at me with those baby blues
up from the paper on the desk, with those deep rivets in his forehead
all these huge scrunched up muscles
why do they need muscles even on their forehead?
and I was pierced to the center
and I know I'd think he's a bore
and as I drove away I saw him walk out of the building
carrying a lunchbox his wife probably fixed for him
and no, I'm not proud that I feel like this
and no, it's never something to act on
but as I drove home, I thought of him
despite the mango body, the huge shirt
and my not in shape profile that would have to be
crammed into a corset I thought about a lot
and if I could forgive him his middle aged flaws
I should be able to forgive mine
because humans are much more complex than those
dumb two dimensional magazines let you believe and
we haven't been photographed for all the thousands of years we've been reproducing
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 11:32 PM UTC
intertwine and window into my insight on opportunity
behold green leaves falling from branches turn to (paper)
paved buildings producing educational programming
twisting like counter clockwise drills into a ignorant skull
leading to this source of never ending deposits
reproducing then only for what can be afforded
stealing that nature from right inside my female bones
attend your designated duty or (job)- debt
will crawl under your wine colored nails and manifest until:
the prayer "my soul to take" will apply
suppress my speech, i beg; my
swaying freedom of speech is turning into a depression of alcoholic slurs
never mend your thoughts too tight, or this macrocosm seems like thoughts
are trapped in an endless revolving door
intertwine and window into my insight on opportunity
because this is what they call:
the American Dream
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 4:19 PM UTC
I fall to valuable words,
Slowly plagiarizing cries and smiles
And looking dizzy around my knees.
Naturally blushed with drunken worth,
Fifteen happy poems were easily dreamt
Of him like those life and death people.
Our big lives died of passion.
Our time ripping through time,
And the sun reproducing dawn.
I am a garbage dream thief and
The words have told me how to steal.
Aug 8, 2012
Aug 8, 2012 at 9:50 AM UTC
i hate so much hating myself
my skin
my arms
my waist
my legs
and all my body
'cause I'm a living, breathing creature
who can walk and talk and think and feel
my body works perfectly
and it has done so much
just to keep me alive.
my body loves me,
so why can't I love it back?
i hate how no matter how we're born
we are taught to despise
every bit of ourselves.
i hate how we learn to hate food
while so many are starving
for real reasons.
i hate this tortuous looks in the mirror
and this never ending cycle.
i hate how we try so hard to
make our outside look pretty
while we empty our insides.
i hate how our society
damages young girls and boy's brains.
i hate how they'll never feel whole
and proud of themselves.
i hate how socially acceptable it is
to do whatever it costs to lose weight
and i hate how we applaud
when people do.
i hate how we think it's okay
to comment in other people's appearance
as if it was meant for us
to define what they should look like.
i hate how hypocrites we are
talking about how wrong all this is
but reproducing this all the time.
i hate how no one actually cares
until it's too late.
and i hate how we're all broken,
pretending to be okay.
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 2:24 AM UTC
See, I'm not allowed to go back to the welcome mat called home
Merely because of a boy with green lungs
Bedtime story mouths say you're heading down a path of destruction
But how am I supposed to sit back and let that happen?
Because a way of living they don't approve of,
I am force fed hypocritical helping hands
Moonlit hearts and guilty rules
That palpation in your heart called pain
Does not escape in the form of smoke, blood, or tears.
Listen to me
let my words sit in the crevices of your brain just this once
This is not good for me
Its eating me from the inside out
Leaving the memory of you behind
My heart is reproducing arms
And they are reaching out my chest
Stretching out for miles
Just trying to find you
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
and an answer
bitter ***** be better
can't cut continue ****
don't do damage dark
electric energy exiting
finding figurative feelings
giving girls gestures
having her hair held
in inches intricately
just jostling judging
**** kinetic kindness
licking like love lives
make more madness mandatory
not new naked nausea
original order opposed
pretty pink particularly painful
quick questions quiet
reflections reproducing resentful
soaked sorrows soothingly
to take time
under universal urge
violent victories
welcoming weapons with whispers
xenophobic
ziplocked zombies
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 12:30 AM UTC
It coasts on the dips and dives
along smooth muscle, contracting
pushing, friction absent
and lubrication self-perpetuating.
She called it a spiral, but
I don't see it that way.
It is funny how the little things --
orange and purple and white petals
strings of words together like beads
white-bordered photographs in sepia
-- are bigger than they should be
and shrinking into the smallest spaces
ubiquitous and permeating
reproducing
on and onward pulling.
How do you determine the area of a feeling
how you wipe it down like auto wax
all the crevices like jelly in the webbing
between your fingers
all the misplaced metaphor and you're assuming
I know what you're talking about
you're assuming I care.
I see them there in the bright lights.
I want to be with them.
I want to be a part of nothing.
I want something to be a part of me.
The circle is the mockingest of shapes
daring the others to find its edges
a noose for the mathematician
relying on impossible for truth discovery
the approximation to determine strength or mass or density.
A curve is inherently incorrect
and creates problems for the navigators
who trust cohesion and consistency
who trust each other in cohesion
and constant and consistent standard creation
who challenge the borders of the world
and braid together the loose ends
cruising on new planes.
I watched the wing fall into the water
into the lake, that's a lake, right?
It feels like it goes on forever.
Loud noise.
Open eyes.
Dart right and right.
Grab. Hold. Release.
Quiet.
In chalk on the floor, I drew one of those shapes.
I crawled inside of it, curled up into it.
I closed my eyes tight and held my knees together.
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 12:19 PM UTC
Such primitive creatures.
Frail bodies, weak.
Controlled by basic instincts, needs, wants, desires.
To achieve what?
A status?
How routinely disturbing.
Can we not find higher purposes?
Not meaning finding God, a god, religion to suffocate within.
Seems we are all running on a low level of being.
Bright shiny objects; what, wait, it sparkles.
We can look past, look into, look through these.
A higher purpose to being there must be.
Where is it?
Our purpose?
What is our purpose?
Refuse to believe the chief accomplishment is reproduction.
Despite what the mighty Bible states.
Reproducing a species, a race that has no idea,
A bad idea.
Watch all busily running about.
Jumping over each other and into each other.
An image of crazed monkeys fills in.
Shamefully those with some understanding are rarely heard or are shunned.
Heaven forbid another to think outside the proverbial box.
Unfortunate most of us will succumb to death without realizing there is an outside.
For those who do see it;
Wash those hands vigorously after you're done playing around.
There is more to being human.
It isn't hidden.
It isn't hard to obtain.
Look, open those eyes.
Listen with those ears.
Touch the differences.
It will smell clean, I assure you.
There is more to us than a slightly more intelligent Neanderthal.
I see it. Do you see it?
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC
*I cannot think of anything to describe you
& yet each day and every night
my mind occupies you
I don't know if this is my whole imagination
or it's just my heart that skips a beat
when every time I see you.
This whole track of reproducing
my insanity feeling, why oh why
must it be you?*
*Is this normal?
Is this a human fate?
or is it just me who always*
think *of you, when you're not?
Why oh why?
This is so crazyyy!
or is this too much for me?
Is this what they called
"like"? or perhaps more than that;*
love?
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 6:49 PM UTC
Why do people act like we don't need each other?
When the fact is
We need each other!
Men don't wanna need a woman
Women don't wanna need a man
Who are you fooling?
How do you plan on reproducing?
Do you plan on reproducing?
What are you here for?
Every day of your life depends on the billions of people that go to work
every, single, day
If no one shows up to do their job
You don't eat!
You don't have any luxuries!
We enrich each others lives in every way possible
but we don't thank each other enough
We hardly even acknowledge passersby
We don't appreciate what we do for one another
We don't acknowledge all the love around us!
We don't wanna see...
I could blame a hate, money, and power driven government
but it's not their fault
We are smart!
We are powerful!
We know better!
We are better!
The government is not to blame for what goes wrong in the world
I am
and so are you
It's our fault!
We let this happen!
We watch guns tear down the life of so many humans
and do nothing
We let children be stripped from their homes to be sold as slaves
*** slaves!
We let our earth become a wasteland!!
We did this!
Not the government!
The government is not that powerful
We are!
We decide what happens next.
Sep 29, 2012
Sep 29, 2012 at 2:53 PM UTC
You know what most amazes me?
is not that so many need therapy,
but that so many people don’t!
I mean, it seems my life to me
is a daily test of my ability,
to hold on to my sanity,
to keep a grip on what’s real,
and what’s important,
to struggle for what’s right,
while so many of those around me,
seem bent on self-destruction,
it’s a tragedy beyond conception!
Which is why I need
time on my own,
in the mountains all alone,
no human face to haunt me,
but the faces in my mind.
Time to catch my breath,
a vacation from the motion
of all the mental commotion
the people moving
through the streets
‘till they seem to all stand still.
Now don’t get me wrong!
Life is the most beautiful thing there is,
but what is life, after all?
We must define it,
or forever search the darkness.
We must succeed,
or take the blame for the fall.
Is a rock alive?
Of course not!
but then again
the most modest grain of sand
will surely out-live you!
Is a virus alive?
or a bug, or grass or a squirrel?
These things “live”,
but without self-conception,
are nothing more
than nature’s automatons
reproducing, pain avoiding, pleasure seeking machines.
How can they be “alive”?
After all, what is life, without a knowledge of life?
to be alive, one must know one is alive,
and must also know
that life is no guarantee,
not even of life itself,
for we all must die.
The road we’re on will surely end,
life’s single guarantee,
is that death is our destiny!
Life is the journey!
It seems to me
we must seek to be
more than just automatons.
To think, before we act,
to choose temporary pain
over spirit killing fear,
to choose life over death,
and choose death
over a life not lived!
We must choose to help each other
for we shall surely need help ourselves,
I want to live in a world of love and understanding,
and the strength of forgiveness
toward those who trespass against me,
in hope that my trespasses
shall be forgiven in kind.
For what are we?
we are social creatures,
driven by our nature
toward contact with one another
for better or worse!
Companionship,
unlike air, food, water,
is not what makes life possible,
it’s what makes life worth living!
Which is why
I come down from my mountain,
to face the throngs,
and fight the crowds in their misery,
and repress the insanity,
if just for today,
to laugh and cry with my friends…
Dan Bryce
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 11:25 PM UTC