"reptiles" poems
it's 3:23 in the morning
and I'm awake
because my great great grandchildren
won't let me sleep
my great great grandchildren
ask me in dreams
what did you do while the planet was plundered?
what did you do when the earth was unraveling?
surely you did something
when the seasons started failing?
as the mammals, reptiles, birds were all dying?
did you fill the streets with protest
when democracy was stolen?
what did you do
once
you
knew?
I'm riding home on the Colma train
I've got the voice of the milky way in my dreams
I have teams of scientists
feeding me data daily
and pleading I immediately
turn it into poetry
I want just this consciousness reached
by people in range of secret frequencies
contained in my speech
I am the desirous earth
equidistant to the underworld
and the flesh of the stars
I am everything already lost
the moment the universe turns transparent
and all the light shoots through the cosmos
I use words to instigate silence
I'm a hieroglyphic stairway
in a buried Mayan city
suddenly exposed by a hurricane
a satellite circling earth
finding dinosaur bones
in the Gobi desert
I am telescopes that see back in time
I am the precession of the equinoxes,
the magnetism of the spiraling sea
I'm riding home on the Colma train
with the voice of the milky way in my dreams
I am myths where violets blossom from blood
like dying and rising gods
I'm the boundary of time
soul encountering soul
and tongues of fire
it's 3:23 in the morning
and I can't sleep
because my great great grandchildren
ask me in dreams
what did you do while the earth was unraveling?
I want just this consciousness reached
by people in range of secret frequencies
contained in my speech
©2003
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
Thick skin, big body and sharp teeth, they slay
These greedy animals hunt for their prey
Their goal is to get all what they want
In the darkness of the night they usually hunt
Crocodiles and snakes, they attack like storms
How big are those reptiles as compared to the worms?
Now modern predators are in tuxedo’s and suits
With shiny eyeglasses or well-polished boots
These greedy creatures scattered in this world
They always make the biggest stories ever told…
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
Crocodiles catnapping cuddling in cordial cliques,
Loafing, lollygagging, lurking low like lounging leeches,
Protective postures pouncing prey with piercing pinned precision,
Brilliant belligerent beasts basking boldly by swamp beaches,
Agressively angry attitudes among alluring adverse animals,
Deep daunting jaws of death damage drastically when dropping down,
Scales shaped like stabbing shards scrape while swimming strongly,
Opposing opposition order obedience of outrageous odious opponents,
Raged ravenous rapacious reptiles rank repulsive ratings and resourses...
©Michael P. Smith
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 4:26 AM UTC
The Great Debate started,
Parliament was the open forest,
electors were divided into two groups—
Sir Fox's, and
The Lion's,
The first group wanted to overthrow the Lion
from the sovereign head of the forest,
It was a tough job to confront Lion directly,
So, Sir Fox, appointed a Monkey as the Chief campaigner,
and that monkey appointed other monkeys in the business,
Scaring them with a story of vanishing trees, and living on
the land increases the mortality rate if Lion Party continues.
Monkey, the chief campaigner exclaimed,
“We are not living in the rule of law but in the rule of Lion,
All are equal, but the continuous target of a particular community,
Like a beautiful deer, by another community in majority
should be banned, Deers bring historic and aesthetic
significance to the forest
And need to be treated as the same,”
Deers bellowed gleefully hearing this.
Cows felt hurt,
their exclusion from Monkey’s speech
proved to be a setback to the Fox’s Party,
Cows were the most targeted community
by the Carnivores, everyone in the forest knew,
Potential voters were lost to Lion’s Party.
Polarising speeches of Chief continued,
It brought Rhinoceros to its side,
Seeing rhino in political rallies,
Hippopotamus chipped in,
To counter the increasing weight
Political advisor of Lion, i.e, Tiger,
persuaded Elephant to become an official
member of their party.
Hate speeches increased in numbers
Giraffe, the bearer and upholder of law,
Overlooked everything,
the long neck looked tilted towards
an ideology.
Rumours became truth,
truth became rumour
Monkey was good in it,
And an army of monkeys were excellent.
Parrots, Pigeons, Peacock,
**** Cuckoo, Cat,
Loved the importance they got,
Disseminated the Fox loving songs.
The listeners felt threatened,
They had an enemy living between them
and they were considering them friends,
They thanked the Parrot, Pigeon, Peacock
for pointing them out.
Now, biped hated quadruped,
Quadruped hated reptiles,
Reptiles did the same to amphibians,
And in this way the whole animal kingdom
danced in chaos,
The fiery speeches of Sir Fox helped
in creating illusion,
The slogan of the Man as a common enemy
was changed to, Feline as a common enemy,
Felines joined Sir Fox’s Party,
And Canines ran to Lion’s Party,
Obvious was difficult to observe
Obscure was easy to see.
to be continued
Oct 23, 2021
Oct 23, 2021 at 3:22 PM UTC
I am here, risen up
from dust
and I sit in the sand
beneath the mangroves
as fruits fall around me
thudding softly in the
strewn leaves.
We sit here,
where I am,
these fruits
and these insects
and small reptiles,
watching the clouds roll in from the east,
where the ocean sprawls,
lavishing the beach with delicate hands
under the phosphorescent moon.
We all sit here,
the fruits,
insects,
reptiles,
the ocean,
and I-
We watch dense clouds roll in
as distant flashes of light
and gongs of thunder
grow more frequent-
we sit-
we watch-
and we wait-
for the rain.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 10:07 PM UTC
My lips hold back the lava in my chest.
The burning, consuming, encroaching destruction is hardening my resolve more than you could have guessed.
I feel so at home in the flames that water is so underwhelming.
It’s the coals I sleep on through everything.
To look so long at the light only to blind myself each time;
You’d think I’d learn my lesson after each rhyme.
I’ve never felt comfort for long enough to recall.
The videos of me laughing are something that now make me bawl.
I don’t know how that feels anymore.
I don’t remember what you sound like or the color of your front door.
Your voice no longer echoes in my head.
Your face no longer plagues me in bed.
I don’t know you outside of memories;
Moments of my time that bite like fleas.
You make me itch still,
A symptom that which the spot can never refill.
I’ve been battling between anger and grief for so long now.
It’s a why; it’s a how.
It’s a feeling I can’t live without.
No matter how hard I try to erase the pressure or smother the intensity, the kindling always relights in this drought.
With a deep breath in, releasing all the smoke back out.
It’s my meditation now.
It’s my medication now.
To smell it on someone else and be engrossed in the poison that this can allow;
My dear, that’s intoxicating for me lately.
A mass we are swallowing with the passing moment cornering us innately.
I don’t partake with my own vessel but I will consume a host so absorbed.
They don’t see me molding my character every time I get bored.
One day I will have the entire puzzle lined up together.
Each piece fitted so perfectly, completely combined in a tether.
They will compose a tale so broken and numb.
That’s the feeling that fills my ****** drum.
Every tear is a bad dream.
Every eyelash is a wish for this story to have a different theme.
Jul 7, 2022
Jul 7, 2022 at 2:02 AM UTC
There are seven eyes of understanding
some people in life are so commanding
but the divine wisdom behind them all
is to rise up in knowledge and not fall.
--------------
Just as there are seven planes of consciousness - seven spiritual states - so also are there seven states of understanding. It is always seven. The number seven is the divine number. The seven understandings are:
Eye of Instinct: governs the animal world which includes insects, fish, amphibians, reptiles, birds and mammals.
Eye of Intellect: rules most of the common human realm of existence.
Eye of Inspiration: is for those human souls whose feelings are developed like poets and artists and other creative people.
Eye of Intuition: is for those advanced human souls who have conscious visions and understanding true to the point. What you understand by intuition is always true. What you understand by intellect is sometimes true and sometimes not.
Eye of Insight: human souls on the fourth and fifth plane have insight; their understanding is direct, without thinking with the mind.
Eye of Illumination: means seeing God as he is and is experienced by those human souls who see the Light of God inside and outside of their mind. The understanding is divine.
Eye of Integration or Realization: this is the merging, becoming and understanding of oneself as God (the I am God state – Nirvikalpa Samadhi).
-----------------------
Jul 23, 2023
Jul 23, 2023 at 1:28 AM UTC
red blue
reptiles reptiles
white russian ****** mary
puritan pride puritan pride
freemason freemason
where the good, old days at? where the odd. good days at?
conspiracy conspiracy
deep fake deep fake
trump has a wooden leg biden has a wooden leg
aliens aliens
wars wars
china china
abortion abortion
manifest destiny manifest destiny
lobbyists lobbyists
fox nbc
sovereign citizen version
hey!
get the hell out of america!
your title makes no sense
if you're a citizen of the world, then move to that world
who do you think you are? God or something?
(as it appears on https://www.merriam-webster(no lie)
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sov·er·eign | \ ˈsä-v(ə-)rən
, -vərn also ˈsə- \
variants: or less commonly sovran
Definition of sovereign
(Entry 1 of 2)
1a : one possessing or held to possess supreme political power or sovereignty
b : one that exercises supreme authority within a limited sphere
c : an acknowledged leader : arbiter
2 : any of various gold coins of the United Kingdom
sovereign adjective
sov·er·eign | \ ˈsä-v(ə-)rən
, -vərn also ˈsə- \
variants: or less commonly sovran
Definition of sovereign (Entry 2 of 2)
1a : superlative in quality
b : of the most exalted kind : supreme sovereign virtue
c : having generalized curative powers a sovereign remedy
d : of an unqualified nature : unmitigated sovereign contempt
e : having undisputed ascendancy : paramount
2a : possessed of supreme power a sovereign ruler
b : unlimited in extent : absolute
c : enjoying autonomy : independent sovereign states
3 : relating to, characteristic of, or befitting a supreme ruler : royal a sovereign right
Nov 2, 2021
Nov 2, 2021 at 12:08 AM UTC
Turtles are amazing reptile species both resilient and wonderfully slow
they endure all kinds of changes & survive in many kinds of weather
Retracting their heads right inside when they sense danger is normal
sort of like us when we feel threatened we run to our safety hiding zone
Our hearts are attached to our bodies like the shell is attached to the turtle, the shells of most turtles are composed of layers of keratin
resembling the protein on our finger nails.
Take life slow and enjoy it, When you move quickly more is accomplished, more is diminished
Slow-moving reptiles with cold-blooded metabolisms live longer lives
we too can slow down life by looking at things & people differently
Watch the way the light is cast on a flower, realize the value of looking
Choose your footsteps with intent take them to your heart and breathe
Even if turtles lay lots of eggs , we give birth one babe at a time
so spend time with your children, let them know they're loved everyday
Sign up for meditation, or just walk like a turtle in your favorite spot
turtles are smart creatures that know life is short so please don't abbreviate it, LIVE IT WITH PURPOSE, NICE AND SLOW ...
Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 2:16 PM UTC
love
dove
bird
hurt pain rain
washing laundry dryer shrunk
too hot summer beach tanned skins
bikini girls lifeguards bodybuilders
Schwarzenegger
robocop criminals politicians votes
lobbyists corporations special interests
stock exchange oil price pipelines
pollution profits leaded water oily shores
banking wall street 99percent
wealth CEOs distribution education defloration
exploitation union struggle macjobs
Walmart amazon tax evasion offshore banking
islands caimans reptiles alligators walruses
snapping turtles manatees albatrosses
birds
dove
love
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 1:10 PM UTC
I.
I used to be a crocodile.
I knew no risks, no tears, no joy
no excitement to lure me above water,
no work, for it was cut out for me
in the shallows with the small fish,
no heavens to make up for,
no hells to hope for,
no soul to shatter on mid-spring days
when all life is but a nightmare
and clouds are all but
******* on my head,
who granted to desired effect
that siren hoped for,
who sits upon the sandy shore
and whispers sweet songs to me, myself
evolved,
and repeats me back
the songs I taught her,
"Over and over again,"
she mocks.
How Neptune did churn his waters
to beach a loveless Odysseus here
shall ever be unbeknownst to me.
But
beeswax I have fixed in my ears,
but
now I cannot hear my other friends
in the trees.
but
once I make my flight from this island,
away from the crocodiles,
and starvation,
and sirens,
I will take it out, and
I will hear!
by God! I will hear
and be heard!
II.
No sound.
The siren's lips move;
the water recedes.
the sky grays.
the crocodiles come.
I am drawn near
by her lotus lips that bid me down this tree
but
I must not dismount.
but
a second siren in the trees
has been picking out my beeswax.
Two songs.
The reptiles draw ever nearer to
the siren, her song is the loudest.
The second siren sings a song
of warning and captivation.
I dismount the tree
to fight back the green menace, and save
the first siren.
I knew these fellows once.
They were my friends,
and now do I slay them.
I see only jaws and red blood now,
and now am I defeated.
The crocodile has taken her as prey,
so familiarly,
for I was a crocodile
once.
Jan 23, 2011
Jan 23, 2011 at 9:06 AM UTC
Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--
Before bed,
first thing in the morning,
when you randomly wake up in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep,
Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--
In the beginning it's almost like a new toy or a car,
the excitement when you first download it,
the careful precision with which your profile is created,
how into it you are all day all night,
Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--
Then slowly a pattern emerges.
You get the insanely sporty ones,
running, jumping, swimming, lifting freaking weights,
and you think if I were looking for a personal trainer I would swipe right but no thanks.
Then there are the travelers,
on a world tour since the beginning of time with no permanent address, let alone any potential for a relationship, so you swipe left on instability.
Then there are the 6 packs and no heads,
making you wonder when muscles and treasure trails overrode eyes,
and cringing at the sight of those semi shirt lifted body shots, you swipe left.
Then there are genuinely you're not attracted type,
too much baggage type,
too good looking making you skeptical type,
standing too close to girls type,
reptiles as pets type,
really bad grammar or purging emoticons type,
alcohol is a hobby type,
no ambition or future type,
on all which you keep swiping left.
Every now and then there's the just right type, with the right amount of words and smiles,
sincerely looking for something more than *** or just good at pretending they are,
so you swipe right.
A match...
You never end up talking anyway so swiping on, all day long,
and you realize this is bull ****
The only thing that's getting anything is your right index finger,
and there are much better ways in which it too can be put into use.
You realize even after expanding the age limits to highly questionable numbers and including the maximum area in distance,
and proactively lowering your standards,
you still haven't swiped right on Mr. Right.
You realize you aren't looking but rather searching for that one face, that specific personality who already escaped between your fingers like that one cute guy you accidentally swiped left on a super drunk night while eating peanut butter out of the jar,
or that one guy who you thought was perfect so you super liked but never liked you back.
You realize you are searching for a specific person who doesn't have a Tinder profile but lives in the same building as you, who'll never swipe right for you even if he had the chance.
So you unmatch all those stupidly silent, mute, mistakes of matches, reset the preferences to more respectable limits and...
Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 10:43 AM UTC
A sharp tongue with shark teeth
and a malicious smile with venomous saliva.
The reptiles eyes are like an alien planet.
It's soul lost within the depths of it's pupil.
It's like seeing tectonic plates shift
as they leave a black scar across a sandy red desert.
A reptile's eyes.
Dragon scales cover my skin.
For this world is filled with shattered hearts,
it is like stepping in broken glass,
I should protect myself from all your scars!
I've grown coldblooded from these cold emotions.
Icy stares and frozen thoughts.
Because your souls are trapped in arctic ice,
drifting in the same tides
every day of your cryogenic lives!
Witness the fiery eye that is the Sun.
It shines dimly behind radio active clouds.
Particles of chemical ash act like a mirror
spitting back solar rays in the face of God!
The arrogance that is man!
Earth radiates golden shadows
and the reptile is denied of heat.
I am forced to store my dragon's breath
inside the belly of my beast.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 7:53 PM UTC
Cal-i-fornia (verb) the state of being golden.
Can you see the way the sand sparkles on the shore?
Golden shards of glass, or broken dreams.
Who possesses the Midas touch now?
The crushed gates of Atlantis on our shores.
Aphroditic bronze goddess of the sea,
Hair blown by the breeze.
Sea air & salty &
more than anyone could need, or was used to.
Giant sequoias stand
As mighty and proud protectors
Behemoths of lifetimes past.
Explosion of seeds inside
Fireworks waiting to explode
Pinecones, little grenades of life.
Ghost towns reminiscent of the Wild West
Mining camps from the Gold rush days.
Tumbleweeds & reptiles & powder fine dust.
Some say the earth is red from the natives’ blood spilt, and sunk in,
Reality – Oxidation turns iron in the dirt to rust.
So that’s why Mars is red.
After a bad storm in San Diego
Dollars lie broken & shattered on the shore
A bankruptcy of marine proportions!
Just go see for yourself,
The sand dollar apocalypse.
We were echinoderms too.
Life gone dormant, and violent beginnings.
As if Calliope’s harp needed to be retuned,
Sun god, Apollo & Helios with his chariot in the sky
When did we become so heliocentric?
Solitary white cross on the hill.
Never did anything to harm anyone, yet they fear you so
Enough to try to remove you from our presence.
Mount Soledad, or their SOLEs-are-DeAD.
- You know San Onofre is a power plant right?
- Radiation, is that a problem?
- Only if you want to have kids or stay cancer free.
- 25 foot sea wall -- To keep the waves out, or the kraken in?
- 4,000 tons of nuclear waste, who’s gonna get rid of that?
Ghostly tendrils of death
Blown fifty miles down the coast.
They call it SONGS, how quaint.
A symphony of catastrophe.
The greatest arias of death and destruction.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 12:19 AM UTC
The evening clouds,
are grey from increasing shadow.
The jagged mists, according to my minds eye, take the forms of dragons,
Encroaching upon me
Until they shatter into ash, their own burning might having destroyed them.
The skulled faces stretch out as if in one last grimace.
The second sooty mass forms into hooks, as the monsters’ lower half tries try reconnect with its collapsing upper.
Rose and tangerine flames waft,
Vanishing into oncoming blackness,
Like spirits hiding into caves, to be reborn as the souls of new mythic reptiles.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 12:02 PM UTC
Tell the moon not to complain,
go to the sun and leave a note,
We are not a broken piece of poetry
campaigning for love and affections,
we are crystals, lest you forget!
clear rays penetrating into hearts and souls of humans that seek to make themselves gods into godhood.
we are not grasshoppers to be chopped by a lazy legs printing a falseful legacy.
We are the elephants of the forest of wealth.
Never slaughter the thought of our lives
We are the breath of humans & fire searching for what brewed within men.
We are poems inked with tears and sweat
But those tears are of our bravery, &sweat, a joyful noise made by the skin for celebration of our kind.
We ****** hope in the palms of children,
yet filled with love and its synonyms.
Our lives are the poets who rhymed & colour the sweet lyric they were made to be.
We are the boy children, the hope; least you forget.
The moon of tomorrow,
The sun on faces of a beaming girl
The stars carved on the smile of the sky,
We are boys whose shadows recreate
We are boys whose palms are route of greatness & roadtrip of principles.
praise singers in the slippery wet floor,
nightingales singing lullabies,
bread feeding all mouth to satisfaction
When heronic names are carved look and see ours rightly placed.
we are braver than earth
we can pull it up and down like a tree.
we are the reptiles that wriggle down the hill of success and roar like a beast in a beautiful pail palm of dreams.
our fathers' tattered sins could not hold us down,
our mother's splitted fire guides our course of life!
We are the boys of tomorrow , the warriors of words hyping the hashtag of praises.
who has seen us has seen light,
He who behold us has nothing to fear.
We are mountains in praise of hope
we are oceans of mysteries and hidden treasures.
Have our words and actions in your words for we are time bomb against failure.
BOYCHILD, the sun that glows on every face that needs help.
©John Chizoba Vincent
From_ A_Pen_Refusing_Frustration.
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 1:42 PM UTC
He was the perfect height for her.
Tall enough that her head fell
Right tight under his sculpted chin
But not so tall that he was called "giant".
She was the perfect shape for him.
Not so skinny that he worried
About breaking her bones with a hug,
But curvy in all the places
That made him say a throaty "whoa".
She was a bookworm who loved TV.
He was a chef who loved Mac and Cheese.
They both adored animals,
Though he might have loved reptiles just a little too much.
And they both hated politics,
Though she might have set fire
To one too many campaign signs.
They argued about music, money, and kids.
They debated the merits of dancing in the rain.
They held hands in the moonlight,
And kissed at midday.
They grew old together and never strayed
Too far from the home they had built.
Then one day his chin wasn't high enough
For her head to fit snuggly below.
Her dresses, though comely,
No longer made him say "whoa".
But they still held hands and kissed
And remembered the days of their youth
When they were still learning
What being perfect for each other meant.
It wasn't until the night her heart gave out,
That she realized how he was perfect for her.
It wasn't his charm and dashing good looks,
Or his witty retorts and clever touchés,
But the simple fact
That through all of the years,
He loved her,
And that made him perfect for her.
It wasn't until she took her last breath,
That he understood how perfect she'd been.
She was perfect not because of her curves,
Her smile, her laugh, or her intelligence.
She was perfect for him because she loved him.
They'd been perfect in each other's eyes
Because love is blind.
And sometimes that's not a bad thing.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC
we used to take the kayak
down the river
behind our house
to play tricks in
the mud of the *******
and with more grace than I
thought achievable
you would cartwheel
past the highway bridge
that served as boundary
set by our parents
and you would laugh
and I would laugh
and the whole
******* world
would laugh till
dinner time
when we'd trudge in
mud swept and weary
smiling and happy
now
I can't touch the ****** kayak
it's overgrown with vegetation
and nest to dead reptiles
while older
but still graceless
I stand on our dock
thinking about childhood
seems rushed
like watching from
one of those cars
on the bridge flashing by
looking down and
then backwards
at two kids playing in mud
you're moving into real life
and me
dragged not far behind
I don't even know if you
still remember
that horrible *******
or those endless family dinners
but I do
and somehow
we both made it
you always three
and a half
steps ahead
of me
so thank you
maybe you weren't so bad
after all
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC
walking through the big flea market
off of highway 19 north of Tampa
looking for whatever and something
curious and kitsch or campy
merchants selling in the parking lot
used blenders and old cameras
burnt out or faulty devices
DVD cases and game cartridges
old rednecks shout out opinions
in a cacophony of drawled signifiers
representing visions of despotic rulers
reigning a tyranny of taxes and decline
old glass containers and windshields shine
scattering high afternoon sunlight in the Sunday sky
sitting and resting used and content waiting
waiting for the wear and reduction of time
the market continues into indoor aisles
criss-crossing within a ramshackle structure
plywood walls supporting sheet metal roofing
an aroma of every greasy food wafting into one
people wrapped in worn fashions
whites in Ts and denim
muslim women in headscarves
a black deputy strapped down in uniform
the deputy enforces commerce laws
around the alternative marketplace
a variety of commodities are still available
bongs and e-cigs and incense and **** ****
parakeets cry out down one aisle
a stack of blue aquariums drone a bubbling hum
the stench of cedar and rat **** and hamsters
reptiles basking in the arid glow of heat lamps
all is right in America’s America
the flea market is the floorboard of that promise
an opportunity for anyone to begin
or start again and over and over
a liberal conservatism can be guarded well
with rifles or tazers at bargain rates
a conservative liberalism is applied openly
in the atmosphere of everyone for anything and everything
the dream of the flea market
a black market and a carnival
all of America’s cheap art on display
its people swirled into one
equal in their struggles and desires
reaching for resources and derivatives
buying low and selling higher
stealing and selling short
walking through the big flea market
on a hot and cloudless Sunday afternoon
looking for whatever or something
it’s a fun thing to do
originally posted to my blog https://sublimeobscenities.wordpress.com on 4/27/2014
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 1:17 AM UTC
A bubble.
Form without void,
the time before time,
absolute inertia,
total resolution,
perfect harmony,
the bubble forming,
expanding,
like an explosion,
displacing,
creating,
The Birthing
of galaxies and stars,
planets in formation,
the universe
unfolding,
meteors crashing
into the atmosphere primitive,
amino acids
forming,
evolving inorganic
to organic,
microbes becoming
multi-cellular
--the race is on,
to and from
fishes,
amphibians,
reptiles,
birds,
animals,
primates
man,
consciousness and self-consciousness,
born and dying,
nothing meaning everything
time
and time again.
Awareness began,
both
with a bang
and a newborn baby's
cry.
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 8:23 AM UTC
Righteous Isis,
priceless queen, rife with green
vines winding between her lungs,
around her tongue, crowned with beams
of the ancient sun, power of Ra
beneath her thumb, life-giving wife,
wild child of reptiles, pride of the Nile--
righteous Isis,
she who gives birth to heaven and earth,
sovereign sorceress, steward of words,
my ancestress, blessed with flesh, this
bright protectress, next to death with
theft of her name, maimed by insane fanatics
grasping semi-automatics aimed at
righteous Isis,
spliced into terrorist crisis
situations, sacred name on a
radical federation, used for devastation,
appropriation of my divine mother,
brothers-in-arms killing the culture
of their own nations, of past generations, of
righteous Isis,
torn from her temple by
scorned fundamentalists,
prayers to her used to take
insurgent censuses
now when i bow to my goddess,
my empress, the powers suspect I'm a member of
rightist ISIS,
who crosses off competition
with crucifixion,
lays foundations for jurisdiction
with immolation, with detonation,
decapitation of journalists, their
murderous fists taking nations,
rightist ISIS,
whose power rests on the shoulders of dread,
men obsessed with erasing the names
of every goddess we hold close, of every man
who knows Mohammed did not preach death,
of every Buddhist, every Jew, every pagan, every Hindu,
choking the breath from those who don’t believe what they do--
rightist ISIS,
you think you own the sun but not this one,
not this pristine queen who tears the thunder from the skies,
and she will strike you down with pestilent blight
she'll smite you with a blistering light,
she'll drown you and ignite the tide,
and you will die with the second rise of
righteous Isis,
whose hand rocked the cradle of civilization,
whose shrines make the sacral heart of nations,
whose each breath gives divine illumination,
who shakes off the wasted shame
and patiently waits as we chant her names--
all ten thousand in glorification.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
Terror-rium
We had an aquarium
A river, a lake, a sea.
On our desk—the ocean.
Our exotic fish, fished
from the very river, lake, or
sea which we have now.
On our desk—we provide forage,
food, plants, water, and fish.
The aquarium had us.
…
We had an insectarium
An arachnid, an insect, a butter
-fly. On our counter—the air.
Our countertop full of flourishing
flowers, fluttering wings of broken
butterflies, falling from feed, because
they drink—and we pluck their
wings, tape them to tapestries to
stare. Say, how pretty they are.
The insectarium had us
…
We had a terrarium.
A desert, a savannah, a floor of sand.
Our room is lit by a woodland, a
jungle, a place we’ve never been.
African violets decorate our reptiles,
all scales and shells and condensation.
It rains today—the lid which collected
our precipitation. Our pebbled floor,
formed over our marbled kitchen.
The terrarium had us
…
We had an arium,
and we destroyed it
to keep them on our desks,
nuzzled between family portraits and pens,
to remind ourselves of what
We used to have and
what we’ll never have
again, but at least they are
pretty, and no one needs
National Geographic to stare
anymore. We have our countertops.
...
This was read at the University of Kansas on May 10, 2013:
http://shannonathompson.com/2013/05/10/contest-winners-and-poetry-from-my-ku-reading/
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC
Why are the houses languishing
well, there's no one inside that's full of life
insects and reptiles
eat away at the decaying
little sounds
dust of obsolescence
piled up as wind cuts across
the parts have become so dull
from lacking a mind and soul
within
beauty of humanity deadened
by decadence
a void
corrupts the ignorant whole
I tried
to open the closed door
but i'm afraid
the locks on it
too rusted and corroded
if any life were to be breathed into the house
all doors have to be broken down
i have tried
to unlock the stone of wisdom
with the key of my thought
but i fear the medicated brain
is too rigid and tight
if the flotsam
is willing to be reborn
i will
pour some enlightened spirit
into the sensible nerves
the sun in the sky is celebrated
because the shine of it gives forth
life
the flower on the ground is too
because it's manifest
there's always a readiness
to absorb
that source.
Sep 1, 2023
Sep 1, 2023 at 6:58 AM UTC