"taxonomic" poems
Yes, it's seemingly a nonsensical rhetorical question, but, for that precise reason, it will illustrate a lesson, if you so desire to tag along for this short session.
Per Wikipedia, "The horse (Equus ferus caballus) is one of two extant subspecies of Equus ferus. It is an odd-toed ungulate mammal belonging to the taxonomic family Equidae." Hmmm... I much prefer that the horse goes "Nay," eats hay, has a mane, and is ridden by cowboys, cowgirls, Indians, equestrians, knights, jockeys, conquistadors, Mongols, and all. Even better, just point a horse out or otherwise show a picture to a kid and they will never be mistaken again. Even the littlest ones will never be stumped when faced with a rhino, tiger, giraffe, camel, and such.
Admittedly, there is a worry that we could be fooled with that of a donkey or mule. How come no one has taken advantage of this?! What a scam to get us rich! "Duh doy," you say, cause we all know when we see a horse, so why would anyone try to trick us with an *** Well I ask you in turn, why does anyone try to trick us with good art versus bad, let alone art versus crap? How could anyone fall for that?!
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 8:48 PM UTC
I have the shape of the institution.
Each email address is a human.
They are known by their words and actions.
The whole wide world is just a fraction
of all I do not know. Expansion
and contraction, breathe in, out, meditation
on existence, non-existence, creation
and duration. I have no explanation
for fusion, fission, taxonomic relations
or artificial classification.
More I do not know: locomotion
by combustion, electron separation
and transportation via superconduction
which supports the idea of the unified nation.
What girls are like behind their eyes. ************
a useful restraint on overpopulation.
The story of a life, my life, any life, cohesion
must be rationed, conjured, a fiction
about a vexed, tenacious town, its rail station
truck stop, high school, night spots, recreations
the temporary citizens enact visions
dream-like orations, ballets, conflagrations
to in the end receive in annals honorable mention
from family, friends, neighbors, colleagues, institutions.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
Felis catus is your taxonomic nomenclature,
An endothermic quadruped, carnivorous by nature;
Your visual, olfactory, and auditory senses
Contribute to your hunting skills and natural defenses.
I find myself intrigued by your subvocal oscillations,
A singular development of cat communications
That obviates your basic hedonistic predilection
For a rhythmic stroking of your fur to demonstrate affection.
A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents;
You would not be so agile if you lacked its counterbalance.
And when not being utilized to aid in locomotion,
It often serves to illustrate the state of your emotion.
O Spot, the complex levels of behavior you display
Connote a fairly well-developed cognitive array.
And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend,
I nonetheless consider you a true and valued friend.
-Data
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 8:02 AM UTC
Is it common, is it normal,
In its ever present hurdle
To be ever, always encumbered
By awful, constraining confusion
Why can't I ever manage
To speak of what I truly mean and hope?
Why is it so very, dreadfully strenuous
To paint on paper what I saw so well in thought?
Why have I never been able to
Tell the people I love that I really do care
How much I miss them, in their lack
And how I value their precious time in my presence...
Could it be my youth?
Ever-haunting me, in my incapable immaturity
My selfishness--
So overpowering, it controls me--
But I'm fairly certain
To the point of humble shame
The true reason I can never pinpoint my intentions--
I'm a human! The bane of all biology!
Am I to wallow in taxonomic pity
Cursed with powerful, commanding emotions
But a slave to the inabilities, fear,
But most of all--confusion
Still, is that not the beauty of human feelings,
With perplexity through the inability
To pinpoint whatever we truly mean
Comes art, beauty, (still confusion, evermore).
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
Gentle dangers
in the dead of night
Speak pleasantly
till all's not right
Soothsaying beasts
of no taxonomic order
Ravage our dreams
at our weakest border
Try to hither and halt such a
nasty scheme
Allows doom to convalesce
as the demon's eyes gleam
Better to walk with the creature,
play with it in jest
Embrace its ghoulish features,
but never let it get the best
Alloy once turned to gold,
so lay Reason down to rest,
That an enemy becomes an ally
at the soul's behest.
Apr 23, 2020
Apr 23, 2020 at 5:43 PM UTC
“Countable nouns can be counted, e.g. an apple, two apples, three apples, etc. Uncountable nouns cannot be counted, e.g. air, rice, water, etc. When you learn a new noun, you should check if it is countable or uncountable and note how it is used in a sentence.”
“countable nouns” goes ding ding in the left-side-brain receptors,
where the write side is humbly aboded, unbounded, and well-recv’d,
countable nouns not simplistic apples, the mundane, not sweet, crisp,
important stuff like sins and dreams, lies and schemes: life alterations!
a single sin, two sins, then three, soon you’re another noun, a sinner,
a dream, two dreams, three, teach labels you a serial day-dreamer,
it takes just one little lie, be well on your way to a pants-on-fire-liar,
a get-rich-quick-scheme forms a life long persona, dastard schemer!
methinks these self-adjectives deserve a special denomination, for my
sins, lies, dreams and schemes are uncountable countable nouns!
they are a class of biological, taxonomic things, living and breathing,
a singular genus, many species, like slime molds of human characteristics
you don’t believe I’m a scoundrel, here is not the place to list,
each action/no action curse-courses animating suppressed brain cells,
when the lids close, the enumeration of sins & deeds, all sheep,
vivid colored, injured pointed hooves, silent screamed reslaughtered,
confession offers no solace, until someday the sticking point of the right brain actually resolve the misdeeds, undoing stabbings, healing
time to quit the confessional, no beads or Hail Marys will ever suffice, elides the wrong religion and mine done don’t lets you off so easy,
no siree…no siree…
even a few miscreant visions, originate from childhood indifferent…
perhaps you tire of my self-flagellate:
**these deeds, actions, some remediable, but not all, and these 50 years on, my palpitations fiercest knowing, that they are now
uncountable countable nouns!**
Apr 7, 2023
Apr 7, 2023 at 10:29 AM UTC
I’ll whisper flowers in your ear
leaves to your palm and petaled pockets
latin and ancient
and walk away when you look back
you need not know more than what speaks to my heart
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 11:58 PM UTC