"taxonomy" poems
Katie Price
Had a collection
Of last season's
Brassieres
Which she indexed
With the help
Of a sincere
Bilingual reindeer
Dressed in spandex
Who for some reason
Was single.
Taxonomy
Is so important to me
Said Katie.
So they were labelled
And kept in taxis
At disused angle grinder factories
Near the Tower of Babel
So posterity
Would be able
To analyse
The finer points
Of her physiognomy.
Quite an unusual praxis
And something of an anomaly
For someone like me
Wouldn't you agree?
Cross my heart
And hope to die
I agree.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
A hymn to paired planethood: Venus hits Pluto
as death, in cold orbit, collides with biology
smashing to fragments: demonic astrology
(more a black hole than a love-star, it’s true though).
Cynical cure for Eve’s womanly grievance
Concupiscent consequence: lust’s bitter fruit –
ah the thought… changing Sin into mere inconvenience.
Margaret sang her seductive refrain
about weeding the garden and progress and light.
Her sisters should view her with scornful disdain
but instead have adopted her murderous rite.
With sang-froid she promoted her racist eugenics
(as if she had never herself been a fetus),
condemning her heirs to postmodern polemics
while nurturing ardent desires to defeat us.
Suppressing the lives that she flushed down the drain
she would liberate Death – and resistance was vain.
As a midwife to modern life (though on the “anti” side)
Old Matron Margie racked up quite a legacy
singing the praises of sanctioned infanticide
calling the shots for the coming sick century.
Planning, quite calmly, to “cleanse” certain races
her zeal was empowered by murderous graces.
She labored to bring us such pearls of subduction:
“dilation and curettage”, “women’s autonomy”
“viable fetus”, “procedure”, a “suction”
Hippocrates retches to hear the taxonomy;
words that turn Life into mere reproduction.
She enters the realms of the ****** and the motherless
roundly condemned by her feminine otherness.
Man’s first protection: the God-given womb
which no infant should have to regard as their tomb.
Dismembered dark cherubs, assembling, greet her
as demons (in scrubs) holding baby-parts meet her.
Long may she burn with the medical cynics
this mother of Moloch, this founder of clinics.
Convenience is king when abortion’s the Queen
and the profits swell big with each nubile teen…
yet the fruit of such carnage remains to be seen.
I send her this song as a funeral wreath
and a card inked in blood. You may read what is there:
“To the Matrix Supreme of our culture of death
from the souls of the infants you slew on the earth.
May your torment increase with the children you bear.”
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
A Catastrophic explosion in a constellation ..........
Following the super nova , expansion of the universe....
A supersonic flight on suborbital spacecraft ........
Accessing meteor , an unknown lonely atmosphere ....
Away from thousand light years.........
Taxonomy a new solar system with red planets........
Peeping from the glass cockpit , all planets appearing blue.......
No moon in their orbit , no networks with DSL(Direct Satellite Link)......
No human , no existence of love...........
All nonfunctioning satellite moving bizarre ..........
Whole system collapsed in that collide ........
Explosion relocated moon with planet earth .......
A symbol of Cosmic Love , shining through human hearts ........
Discovering love bond in the solar systems...
an unique lodge.............
Migration of youth Love .....an effort to save those lonely planets......
by
MAHI -GALAXY ...........
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 4:50 PM UTC
We fill our minds with distant lies
and feign a cultured philosophy
we judge the lives of distant tribes
as we make our own taxonomy
how blessed are we with time to spare
to let our minds wander without a care
Jun 19, 2012
Jun 19, 2012 at 1:51 PM UTC
A Catastrophic explosion in a constellation ..........
Following the super nova , expansion of the universe....
A supersonic flight on suborbital spacecraft ........
Accessing meteor , an unknown lonely atmosphere ....
Away from thousand light years.........
Taxonomy a new solar system with red planets........
Peeping from the glass cockpit , all planets appearing blue.......
No moon in their orbit , no networks with DSL(Direct Satellite Link)......
No human , no existence of love...........
All nonfunctioning satellite moving , bizarre ..........
Whole system collapsed in that collide ........
Explosion relocated moon with planet earth .......
A symbol of Cosmic Love , shining through human hearts ........
Discovering love bond in the solar systems...
an unique lodge.............
Migration of youth Love .....an effort to save those lonely planets......
by
MAHI -GALAXY ...........
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 7:27 PM UTC
Love’s Lexicon
I must make a new vocabulary.
My dear, the words I’ve used in those
Over and over descriptions, signifying all you are,
Are well and past their sell-by-date, should
End their shelf-life here and now. No longer can I
Form their letters truly without knowing well
I test love’s patience . . . and your own.
So in desperation’s way
I adopt a different lexicon
Offer you, my love,
a fresh taxonomy.
*concave the slapp
pressure inbuilt
evenly glassed
held held holdingnow
but ambulatory
moons at full stretch
figuration tempering
notonce twicemore
pressure wieghedupon
beyond breath’s exhale
membraneous goldening
frecklation the hands’ fastness
eyerich sightedkeen here
gone awaygone away
bodystretched senticle
smoooth*
A Proper Poem
Poised to conjure music
from the nothing air, and
with only some frivolous
verse to guide me,
I rest momentarily
to watch the screen of my mind
show your dear self to me:
the sweet flow of your body
uncovered in the shower;
that dance of choosing clothes
and dressing. I have sometimes
watched and wondered,
wondered that you could be
quite as you are.
So precious in my sight,
so very precious.
Water’s Kiss
I shall only write you
very short poems of love
so you can taste them
in one gulp as you might
from a Highland stream
unpolluted, soft,
peat -filtered, cold,
and bubbled with air
from falling across stones
into your cupped hand.
My love, bring now
this water’s kiss
to your waiting lips.
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 2:27 AM UTC
“I think that I shall never see”
a tree thin as phylogeny,
looks poor, no fruits nor leaves for tea,
Yet means so much as Darwins see.
rooted, unrooted, a weird tree,
well, Nature, too, selects weirdly.
No other tree much affects me,
keeps changing my taxonomy,
splitting-lumping, lumping-splitting,
because more data keep coming.
“Poems are made by fools like” you,
but cladograms, don’t make me blue.
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 5:19 AM UTC
Two relatives feeling distant
As time moulds each new birth
Into a symbol of the changing world
Drinking in the suns changing light
(From its womb directly or
From the cuvetus face of the moon)
And Narcissus stands, arms wide
Enveloping his kin in sweeping grace
His face dancing the sun's dance across the sky;
He is an over-arch of all their quirks,
Diluted so that the complexities
Are a fleeting dream on the tongue
And his colours are an assault on the eye.
Jonquil in yellow petticoat
Perhaps the wallflower of the dance,
Juvenile grace in her open face
That breathes its own unique airs;
She gleams her simple hue,
A definition within herself
As she unknots her roots from the rest
And pioneers her garden anew.
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 12:45 PM UTC
As if anyone could distinguish
Between the Great &
The near Great.
Which is why I always plant
Rosmarinus officinalis,
In and of the genus Rosmarinus,
If you want to taxonomy out to the runway,
Again.
Whenever I get to this point—
This sacred time to cultivate my garden—
Whenever my soul just can’t,
Couldn't take one more botanical tragedy,
Another senseless loss of green soul matter,
Entrusted to me in a serendipitous plan,
Romero will never disappoint you,
If playing God is your aspiration,
Children to care for, to love,
Nurture and cultivate.
Especially in this high desert,
Where any scarce
Pasture is a Holy Shrine,
Some Fatima,
Or Lourdes.
A Chimayo.
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
An endless ocean,
Pantomime enlightened,
In time.
Red shift,,
Infants Star,
Bending light in chasm.
Our fauna,
Spreading into transition,
Of mind.
Bring holiness,
Home in mason jars,
Sealed tight.
Covering up a stench,
Masked by terror,
A guiding light.
Kingdom come,
Sugar coated ****
In love.
Empty entrances,
Void, integral loss,
Comprised,
Faculty covered red moss.
Heated, conversation,
Taxonomy towards tethered,
Ulysses used,
Utter degradation.
Pink in clouds,
Weakened state,
Harass the aether,
And melt the unified field,
Synchronicity...
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 10:12 PM UTC
In a world so full of muddled dichotomies and clumsy classifications,
Of spectrums and ranges and imprecise definitions,
Of moving targets and sliding scales,
What is a woman?
When your definition’s solid, sorted, and sold
Am I an archetype or anomaly in the sordid taxonomy?
Here are my chromosomes:
Two Xs to mark the swirling twirls of DNA
Properly paired to provide a guide for my curves.
Here is my body:
Ripe and rounded and ready for perusal
By those who find art in a classical form.
******* that are not perfect,
*** that waggles as I walk,
A waist that looks even better when I’m angry
(Hands on hips and arms akimbo).
Here is my ***
Excited by the touches that evolution would predict.
I respond when kissed by stubbled lips,
When stroked by calloused hands,
When rocked beneath a man that biology would call
“The fittest.”
Our coupling is a pledge to survive.
Here is my womb:
A wonder of chemistry and medicine,
It has been occupied for defense against bearing fruit.
I have declared my selfishness to doctors,
To family,
To strangers.
I will not house another life
Because my own heart is sufficient.
I will not nurse another’s hunger
Because my appetites are wild.
I will not be a mother,
And you will not change my mind.
Here is my hysteria:
I cry sometimes when books are sad,
Or when commercials are touching,
Or when I’m angry,
Or hungry.
Or confused.
Or happy.
Or whatever.
Here is my meek and mild nature:
In the hand that covers an ornery smile.
In the hesitation before I swear.
In the blush of a lover surprised.
In the warmth that you must lose, not earn.
Whether I am a winning or a wanting woman
I am finished with apologies.
When all is counted/sorted/labeled
My tastes and brightest talents are as tame as I can bear.
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 12:29 PM UTC
I was very pleased to find
A fungus that sometimes (not always)
May contain algae
And so may be described
As partially lichenised
So when I can't make up my mind
I am just evolving me
I'm not divided
Undecided
Only naturalised
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 6:39 PM UTC
Reclusive turtle soloing about its ribcage for one bestie' tendency.
After spent the night in its master's clink full of candelabra with Earthlings, the turtle doesn't want to go to thine torturous awry cotillion where everyone is fumbling for the right words.
It is happier to mate with the bestie while all the misnomers vibrating as if they would penetrate into the soul lucidly. Seeking gratification by every frottage and endless non-penetrative *** whispering straightforward colloquial language became a morbid fascination.
Beastie frighten and enthralled the turtle with Sigillum Dei like riffs from decades of its polytheistic worship, machinations and machinations of coercive persuasions unlike crowdy psychopathies who pay no heed to propaganda and their mutual ************ provoked by **** star personality taxonomy and *** toy fabrication.
Turtle caused beastie a impairment of memory because of its anonymity and disruption of beliefs.
Falling in love with you like seeing someone else dresses in my skin. What I want to do to you is systematically indoctrinate you through torture techniques.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 12:19 AM UTC
Details shape perspectives killing time
classifying experiences drawing lessons
from the past to live a fleeting
present wrapped up in comfort offered
by the most illusive conviction we are
ensuring a mistakeless future laying
the grounds to understanding.
People hurt others and themselves, a fact,
have and will do so again, might as well
rationalise and take notes, categorise offenses
under text book notions of human psyche.
To pseudo comprehend, believe they surely did
it out jealousy or envy, inferiority complex, greed,
fear of rejection, of commitment, fear
tout court, latent ancient traumas, alcoholism,
loneliness, inadequacy, stress, lack of fantasy,
defence mechanisms, revenge and rage,
frustration, Freudian mums and dads to blame,
poverty, miseducation or in vogue bipolar
mental disorders.
Newly labelled manic depression justifying
the indefensible, falling under the taxonomy
of psychological disease. Victim of one’s mind
or coward in disguise? And if evil be an illness
would it follow that, with no fault comes no crime?
The catalogue complete, what is left a bunch of notes
recorded in the abyssal perplexity of tired
brains, aged bones. A life spent studying flaws
instead of standing in awe in front of All.
While if, zooming out from details to focus
on bigger pictures, homes become nations,
neighbourhoods Earth, individuals Humanity,
the Universe,
partial essence of which we are, traveling
without moving through mysterious space
under mystic laws we call, Natural.
Do they determine who we are? And if,
ridding of the catalogue I am reborn,
a newfound meaning looking far beyond,
to see amazing little creatures stubbornly survive,
to live and endure, prove we are
much more than complexes and fears,
ambitions and diseases, corrupted thoughts,
but a miracle of feelings, eager to learn,
only beginning to become,
aware of itself.
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 8:12 AM UTC
The words will forget us
Like other dead languages
Surreptitiously replaced
With a new phrase
By a new phase
Like Latin giving way
To the languages of our day
All the worlds that lived within
Being forgotten
Leaving only fragments
And taxonomy behind
The words will forget
Our exactitudes
Will settle on platitudes
Vagaries and simplistic
Representations of our present
Will be all that is left
Of this life we led
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 7:39 AM UTC