"splicing" poems
The Doctor has a Sense of Humor!
<|>
give a surgeon a scalpel
and an excuse,
and the artist emerges,
for creativity is a good surgeon’s
natural habitat
Sure, sure, there’s a plan,
with best and acceptable outcomes,
but when messing with a real heart,
a sly ***** with numerous deceptive guises
at its disposal, you never for sure never know,
despite all the advanced imaging techniques,
exactly
what you will find once you go
spelunking
in caves of life and death
so, he takes a bit from here,
and a bob or two from there,
there a cut, here an incision deep,
Old McDonald provided a body,
or a canvas, and the Doc
is happy.
So I uncover holes where he
probed, redeploying the healthy,
like a good designer, Doc rearranges
and repairs, a travelogue of splicing and dicing,
his handiwork
Now standing over you for many hours,
can get tiring, though each ***** be
different, unique even, but leaving
a little marker, a stylized signature,
is well, is the rightful discretion of the artiste!
So you can imagine my surprise
when the tubes removed (ouch!)
the bandages ripped off in a
signature move of a delighted nurse whose
loves seeing grown men cry from lesser trivialities,
you cannot imagine my surprise
when I discovered my new tattoo,
upon my chest front and center!
*Herein please find your heart repaired,
and revitalized:
Please Note!
We guarantee our work for minimum 15 years
(Aug. 3, 2038),
but our disclaimer
we assume NO responsibility after that
if you should
happen to live for 30 YEARS or more*
Dr. P.
Sep 21, 2023
Sep 21, 2023 at 7:58 AM UTC
tootsie pops, pop rocks, rock candy
sweet tarts, smelly farts, war-heads, sour patch kids
reeses pieces, reeses stix, snickers lickers
fudge pile, chocolate smile, peanut butter bile, sugary style
baby ruths, almond joys, soy bean sauce, creamy steam
ill give u a payday, mayday, hay tastes good with parfai
milkyways stay gay to play games with sunrays
icing splicing with knife dicing
makes cakes, cook steaks, rumcakes
****** sprinkles, rip van winkle, diddily dinkle
gummy worms, germs impregnate firm, permed urns
angel food, carrots, pineapple upsideways
fruits, ***** parachutes, scooters, jello shooters
goobers, corn on the cobbers,
veggie wedgies, pepper leppers, squash boxes,
fry foxes, fleet rocks', carrot tops',
dishes of fishes,
witches brew platypus and fat kush
pushy slushies riding skateboards on gary busy
fussy hussies getting blushy about cussies
cereal made of creoles, bread straight from dreads,
rice is nice with spice, yeast is beast,
last but not least, wheat is a treat,
kiwis, shmiwis, dodos on go phones, starfruits,
bartlejuice, grape drank, sushi stinks.
ill eat anything.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 4:50 AM UTC
The ripple effect of a rash decision.
Ignoring with a cold precision.
Glass cannot completely melt away.
Yet it never heats up the way they say.
A small crack in the upper lip.
An indentation, a simple dip.
If you don’t read the bible, Jesus will hate you.
But, Jesus, that is something I’ll never do.
The crack expands to a spider’s home.
A girl in a metal chair all alone.
Do you know what the gospel is, kid?
I don’t know if I do, but I wish that I did.
Splicing incision, multiple cracks.
Spiraling around in un-orderly stacks.
Mummy, I’m feeling ill.
Doesn’t matter, you are going still.
A piece falls to the floor with grace.
A trickle of water fills its place.
She throws her square hat into the air.
Whipping away the wafers and wine out of her hair.
The dam breaks away, the glass cascades in a sparkling haze.
Washing away the church daze.
Never. Again.
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 8:37 PM UTC
Gene splicing recombinant E. coli:
What could possibly go wrong?
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 3:13 PM UTC
fragments of life
scattered on the photoshop floor
discarded moments
deleted before fully developed
urgency depicted as living for today
overexposing the instantaneous
cropping a disjointed existence
from the bitmap of impatience
why the aversion to time's darkroom
where future's blur slowly comes into focus
giving clarity to the contiguous
splicing realization from potential
cut to ending...
a panoramic view of destiny's horizon
where paths converge but never vanish
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 9:07 PM UTC
Withered through these relinquished lips,
softly lays an embellished, embroidered, carcass.
Torn across flesh-like soil
caressing gently into this impermeable being,
you're only human.
So allowing in the presence of indigenous, oblique thoughts
slanting into the belly
never feeling so bare
the hunger deprives.
The nails of your eyes piercing into the forefront of mush you call a brain,
feeling the earth distinctively tremble with each step you chase closer to the ledge
Clutching onto the white knuckle breast
your hands pounding at your fingertips
its electric running through your veins
feeling it at the core
so helplessly, lost.
Your throat knots into one-thousand splinters
splicing relentlessly between your core
the wedge of your mortal body becomes noticeable to your soul
detaching,
jumping.
Slithering one step closer,
pull the rope
you leap
you rot
one more inch closer,
you can feel it
separating your surroundings from comfort ability
picking up between each breath
shaking at your own wake.
there you have it
at the brim of the edge
you've push yourself this close
whats one last jump out of this skin?
Aug 23, 2019
Aug 23, 2019 at 6:20 PM UTC
The following statements of truth were brought to you
Not through, but circumnavigating fated parameters
Of insane, yet normative, largely uninformative
Mechanisms that formally give birth to ********
And instead, strategically splicing said bounds with
Ideal variables derived from the courageously quixotic,
Unrobotic, and outraged agents of, and for, capital Real:
The train of corporate reasoning derails so fast
To follow is to snap the head backward,
Far past angles within measures of pleasurable fit
And open gates to deluging tangled circular
Failures of logic that trick and co-opt the proletariat.
We are Present-Ambassadors with broken flux-capacitors
Demonstrating a consistent tendency toward error
In efforts to obtain diplomatic access to a future where
The same reemerging deficits do not manifest unfixed.
One of said deficits may include all positive freedoms.
For the record, it shall be noted that civil society
Currently arrives implicitly to find it compliantly fine
To promote systems of labor designed to illicit behaviors
That will eventually undermine the actors of exhaustive work
And make benefactors of those complicit in crime.
As case studies of this paradoxical paradigm, we observe
Nations signing trade agreements aligned with
Selling more of the goods whose extractions have
Cataclysmic exactions upon locals contracted not to resist.
Those who take issue with this are directed to appellate institutions.
The projected scarcity of over-consumed poisons causes fear
Which leads to faster hoarding and more ex(t/p)ensive death.
Thus, most human behaviors presently inflate pricing, popularity,
And rapidity associated with committing system-wide suicide.
As shackle-some power consolidation bends toward a transnational peak
I hereby slide-tackle these forwarded trends, seeking goals of the rational.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
It's not deception,
but it, I cannot believe.
These truths transmitting,
time permitting,
will crush me flat.
I'm not sure what to think,
in the fact's bull-rush.
Screaming out.
Damming it to be,
cardboard scenery.
In sincere
secrecy.
With a dash of nothing,
spicing the world.
Give me a kiss; no,
give me a twirl.
Splicing the word-weary
and thought-Leery.
Such fresh ********
Screaming out.
Damming it to be,
cardboard scenery.
In sincere
secrecy.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 7:14 PM UTC
I want to write you a big long letter
and give voice to the frustration I feel
maybe even get mad at you
take it out on you
say horrible, nasty things
flail my hands in animation
smash a vase or two against the wall
release the real animal rage that I feel
that you have your own mind and your own will
but how could I?
first of all, I pride myself on my high thinking
I can’t descend to those petty vibrations
that will only destroy me in the end
But, the real reason
are your big brown eyes
those deep hues
of which I have a tendency to fall into
whenever they linger too long on mine
oh, why can’t we intertwine?
and be so close that we forget we’re dying
just for a second or two, at least?
the sun is splicing through the blinds
in neatly descending rays
casting parallels of shadow and light
across the bed
the leaves whirl outside the windowpane
the branches rustle in the late afternoon breeze
reminding me of the lucid dream I had on the bed we shared together on the floor
I was flying through the constellations
at incredible speeds
It felt so real at the time.
if you won’t come away with me
if you won’t let me stay
I won’t hold it against you
I won’t cast you away.
the freedom of choice is a gift (I respect your choice)
and I love the freedom of this life too dearly
I love the sunrises and the sunsets too dearly
I see the light in me seeing the light in you too clearly
to ever make light of the profundity of this
this trip
what a trip
and if we’re not on it together
then I’ll pass you on the highway
separate loads
with separate courses
in the twilight
I’m so glad to have seen you
for a moment in the headlights.
Aug 2, 2020
Aug 2, 2020 at 10:20 PM UTC
**Each day passing by in a wild-eyed dash
In truth my soul fell aside, but bluer birds still doth call
Missed that cardinal harken when I set down my last two cents
Kickers of tricks, scroll-ers of myth, bottlers of ships
Knew it all along, just couldn’t stiff the rest
Refuse to capitol, refuge atop the pious politic that steeps these hills
Is it not hard to tell? The meanings of what buys in bulk
The people is we, of what sells slicker than plot itself
A minority rule, hid reasons from majority fooled
That is working trade class, taught to chain drive
The gleaming sheen glowing green, crowning jewel¬¬¬ is as mist and steam, fleeting as the wash of this worlds seething seas
We, the misanthrope of being, bloom in the warmth of idea
Only to recede at the water mark high of each our lives
Authenticity bless the distant time, costless venture to each about die, salute through another caesars’ dilated eye a definition
Eons in annunciation; immortality flashing by
Reverence cannot lie, not long at least neathe a chipping patina
Gold leafed by the hand of man, coerced creations’ fondling finger tips strips thin, leaving us then to watch the weathering
Not a one may ever remember for too quickly or too timely
Arrives dismemberment, a cyclic certainty, often relegated falsely
As loss or gain, truly misspoken frames for reference
At any given attempt to render the language of tongues, oh speaker the son of the morning shamelessly ****** by predecessors increasingly lavish
Phonemic savage; life running rabid, splicing love over the atom
The simple one whom tends a patch of what he calls “cabbage”
Knowing always the wordless truth that is his field fallowing
Unconvinced by everyone, save himself if nothing else
Penitent candor dangle, frameless wonder can you hear the thunder?**
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 2:44 PM UTC
rip love off the wall.
the smoke and the blood
and greasy fingerprints
that some genius copied
onto your own brain
so your double helixes and its
transformation, a chimera that bears
the weight, the demons
you
discover. pallid bones
are trapped within
these jaundice walls,
dusted so thick.
no end and no beginning,
but of life releasing,
splicing,
the presence of another
for the ******* of yours.
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 2:02 AM UTC
thorns lay down in my arachnoid
membrane, splintering my scalp at the mere
memory of anxiety-
splicing and slicing into my brain
drawing blood, swirling pools
killing me slowly
not all at once,
not all too quickly,
but miserably constant
in a stream that never empties
poisonous venom.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 2:38 AM UTC
The overture sounds:
A muffled “thud,”
And scraping flesh against macadam.
Un-rosined bows screech across nerves,
Dividing molecules to atoms.
Each neuron fires off, splicing into three
The soul from the body,
and something indescribably between.
Catching fire, he ascends -
"This is what it truly means to be!"
Each piece, each side
Breaking away in-finitely
To somehow become more whole
Through division, and in balance.
Like a reunion, of holy trinity,
Caught ablaze in fissile symphony.
- - -
And like a cork popped from a bottle,
Rewound, and played reversed,
He careens with a whining pitch
And
f
a
l
l
s
From orbit,
Back to earth.
Glimpsing God
Only to be clawed back
To the pains and pleasures of Samsara,
To taste the bitterness of my own blood,
Juxtaposed
With the ecstasy of Nirvana.
This is how I came to know the realm
In which our feeble bodies lurch.
Reborn as a phoenix from the ashes.
From the rear cabin of a hearse.
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 3:28 PM UTC
I screamed, but no one heard
Still as death my eyes were
Closed
My prison
Eyelashes were my bars
Concealing,
Obscured,
Silence
Only disturbed by breath,
I began to sink, the white of my eyes
"My island of purity"
Slowly washed away by the tides of
My pupils, the storm of terror
Was upon me, my fingers slipped
Each digit pealed from the bars of my eyes,
"Then all went dark"
I was lost in the nothingness,
Thoughts,
Shards,
Splicing
Up my mind, a battle raged
within, but my body was as still as death
I had demons that sharped each claw,
Cutting in my subconscious,
Tainting innocence,
Now the corrupted into horror behind
Closed doors,
I looked in vain, sweat was like
Raindrops, each fell never landing
Eternally falling, a
Noise,
Faint,
Oceans
Of thought below my feet,
I impacted beneath
Courage,
Fortitude,
Determination
Of character, as a whisper
Upon a pollen of thought, drifted
So tiny
Underestimated
Within its strength,
For words were spoken so quietly
*"The darkness is weak"*
"Nightmares have no control"
"Find your light"
"Shatter this illusion, take control"
As I hit down, light
Permeated,
Infused,
Crumbling
Under the light, oceans of pure
Thought splashed over me, fear
"Was washed off"
The bars once imprisoning became as before
As they were separated, I stood again on my island of white,
At the moment of separation,
I awoke, Darkness kept me still,
But in silence, I have the power to awaken,
Nightmares have no control, the are
Figments,
Illusions,
Misconceptions
Of the mind, that when a crack fragments,
Darkness creeps in, sleep well now, you are the
Master of your dreams, creation of fantasy
Sleep well, never let darkness consume,
Always have sweet dreams and awaken well..
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 6:02 AM UTC
I was "hands are tied" denied
by a Bloatfly with two eyes,
four wings, six feet, and no *****
A gene splicing brainchild
high on the benzene manslaughter
fuming up from the shores below.
He was snooping through a kaleidoscope
Excavating my frontal lobe when he noticed
the furious drone of an active anthill catacomb.
Next thing you know Jealousy's backbiting nag
is setting it's sites on his uninviting neck,
going in for a quick pulse check.
Ready for war, no need for cures attitude
he grabbed a scalpel and evened the score.
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 7:44 AM UTC
The coral reefs are colored Christmas lights, decorating the ocean with color and light.
The top of the water is glass, reflecting and capturing all of the Sun’s light.
The sand is wet cement, squishy and soft, allowing foot prints to walk and mark on top.
The fish are elegant ribbons on a dream catcher, swishing and swooshing around the ocean.
The old sluggish turtles are molasses, slowly making their way through the deep, salty sea water.
The boat propellers scouring through the water are knives, splicing through the water as if it were butter.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC
I've made a shocking
Discovery.
None of us have
Chests.
And none of us
Ever did.
We all have green screens
Stretched over our hearts.
Stretched tight
Tight enough to suffocate.
Green screens that show us what
We want to see.
What we want each other
To be.
And it's easy to suffocate in the
Green screens they put on us.
But before you tear that fabric off
Keep one thing in mind.
You keep the editing program somewhere
Deep inside your mind.
And you're the one splicing the pictures
For everyone you meet.
And that's harder to uninstall than
What we put over our chests.
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 8:52 PM UTC
This is something I care not to clarify
I love the way you love the way I love the way you think.
It's so passive, reliable, justifiable, true.
Genuine, down to earth, positively youthful
I like the airwaves within this space
The fluttering shimmers of particles
Floating leisurely among these silent breaths
Between words, between sighs, between signals
Never misinterpreted
It's as though a single mind unites both of ours
Not as if we share it, but as if some unifying God shares us
And allows us to share its beauty among ourselves.
This is the moment that freezes the day still,
A completely honest simplicity in naked exposure
Veins pumping radiated green liquid
Nitrogen honeycombs decorating the walls
Splicing and combing DNA strands
This is what it is to be maybe, probably, quite possibly but most likely not in love
But maybe, probably, quite possibly but most likely not just a confusion.
I think, I think this is a blank sheet.
That we have openly filled in
You propose with those bright colors
And i fill in all the dark spots
And this blank paper becomes a painting
And soon, I feel, whether you try to make it work or not
We will be immortalized in this painting...
Because let me tell you one thing I know for sure about us.
Whether it ever got finished or not,
I would never, ever, EVER sell that painting.
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 10:48 PM UTC
When one was never two
And the reverse doubled
Becomes positive,
I remember links to an
Abandon page
And the effluent nature
Of the voice,
Spoken at odds at the edge
Of yesterday.
Where have we gone,
The soul is A tired old man
Forever told in a web of time,
Take this away,
Numb the years gone cold
In a river one ends
And begins in the sky's
Tearful rejoice.
That I took a deep breath
And found a complicated
Sigh;
I often wonder of the
Two existences,
When life can smile
At death's birth.
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 2:10 PM UTC
a desolate path
my movements thrash
lungs pump with sound
carried by the wind
my shoes strike concrete
moss, dirt, leaf-peppered path
as the sun descends
in the depths of seed
sweat trickles, sprinkles
flowering ecstasy
like salty rivulets of rain
the frothy seas whipped by wind
splicing lumps of coral terrain
blood resonates, pounding in my ears
I feel my body resonate in unity
it carries me in manifesting destiny
to mountains etched in eternity
I am running not for what I have done
but for what would become
and I'll keep on longing
for the concrete underneath my feet
the road to set me free
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC
I'm tired of you invading my sleep, perusing my sheets, directing my dreams
It's the pain in my stomach I can't suppress, holy ****
I'm depressed
Honestly it wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the voices, the pins and the needles
The diversions in my speeches just to make me seem okay
The silly face I put on to play pretend, to stay sane
If only I could make you feel the empty hole inside
The one I feel every night every night every night
But in this hole there are knives and spears
poking
At my veins but not splicing them just yet, oh no not yet
It's torment and torture that's all in my head
I can't stop thinking of the same things in dread
No one loves me no one loves me no one cares
Oh God, I'm so lonely
It's manic
I panic
Oh God, I'm not sane
But no one I've found ever feels the same
Oh God, I want out of my body I want out of this dream
It's so hazy and lucid but this is reality
I want to go back to sleep
Oh God, please let me sleep
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 9:42 PM UTC
You can splice this WRITING this way, one must read slowly
in order to understand how splicing together stanzas can be read at READINGS involving a spliced stanza is another kind
of art EXPRESSION on a person's face when reading this
think they are HIGH times will be had by all when reading
THIS will blow MINDS will absolutely shatter after reading
all of this way out NONSENCE can be fun don't you THINK no more, after all of this SPLICING
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
Seamless we fray
Torn at the seems
Ripped to shreds
As love shears
Our minds
And hearts
Yet mere cuts
Do little to lacerate
The magnetism
That bonds two souls
Stronger than any rending
Splitting or slashing
Capable of separating
Or dividing
Our two hearts
From splicing
Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC