"variants" poems
Tree of proto-monkeys,
brand and banded under Monkey King,
so clever, so adaptive
in substance and doing -
mushrooming in variants:
lemurs, monkeys old and new,
orangutans, gorillas, chimps,
and one big bushy brood
of extincted ***** brothers and you.
Trekking upright into dale,
valleys and over hills too
sore in feet to image
dragging a knuckle or two.
Scavengers making way,
scanning for patterns in
food moving or not,
adaptive doing from fin
to opposable rock.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 1:04 PM UTC
The Hawker Hurricane is a British fighter design from the 1930s. Some 14,000 Hurricane and Sea Hurricane fighters and fighter-bombers were built by the end of 1944。 August 1940 brought what has become the Hurricane's shining moment in history: The Battle of Britain. RAF Hurricanes accounted for more enemy aircraft kills than all other defenses combined, including all aircraft and ground defenses. Later in the war, the Hurricane served admirably in North Africa, Burma, Malta, and nearly every other theater in which the RAF participated. The Hurricane underwent many modifications during its life, resulting in many major variants, including the Mk IA, with interchangeable wings housing eight 7.7mm (0.303in) guns;the Mk IIC, with a Merlin ** engine; the Mk IID, a tankbuster with two 40mm anti-tank guns plus two 7.7mm guns. During the war, Hurricanes were sold to Egypt, Finland, India, the Irish， Persia, Turkey and the USSR Air Corps.More in http://www.rangorango.com/124-series-c-1_5.html
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 4:08 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
Lumpenproletariat's
Comprise the population
Revolutionized, new variants
Attempt consolidation.
Socialist experiments or
Anthropology's deviation?
Avoidance- societal detriments of health:
Classism's obliteration.
Nov 5, 2023
Nov 5, 2023 at 12:45 PM UTC
1st Year
You took me by the hand
Gazed upon my eyes
"I love you", u said
You wrote me a poem
'Sunshine', remember?
You said your eyes reflected
My sunshine
But I also understood,
You didn't love me like I did
You loved the gift in me,
That I gave u joy, peace and happiness
I felt your heartbeat
I was there
2nd Year
You took me by the hand
Gazed upon my eyes
And said you wanted to leave
"I love you", I said
You gave in to the eyes that once reflected your sunshine
But I also knew,
You stayed out of guilt
You still didn't love me like I did
I was in to the deep end
I wasn't giving u joy like I used to
We've been through too much
I'm not letting you go
No, that's not an option
Your seeds are embedded in my soul
You soothed the ****** that surfaced me
You are in every part of me
I am incomplete without you
3rd Year
You took me by the hand
Gazed upon my eyes
And said u wanted to leave, again
"I love you", I said
But it wasn't enough, I knew this
You wrote me a poem
'Dear Balm', remember?
"Variants of species invade it's land but never conquer it's territory"
You gave me hope
But rapidly crushed it with
'From Burchelli'
You had already met her,
She was a mirror reflection of you
Poet in her own right
Crazy, free spirited just like you
You felt her heartbeat
She too, felt your heartbeat
You love her
She loves you
Still, you gave in to guilt
You took me by the hand, again
Gazed upon my eyes
And said, "This car is not traveling like it used to" without hesitation
And I knew I had lost you
All these years I've made you live a lie
You are leaving but you are staying
We've been through this road more times than you can remember, but I can
I know though you are with me,
You no longer belong to me
And until I find the strength to walk away from you
I'll still be here,
Calling you mine even when I know 'we' no longer exist
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 6:46 PM UTC
I wanna give the universe something tough to digest.
I see it with a ******* up look on its face.
Puzzle the universe
Be like me.
I wanna create a gazillion variants of myself.
Each one degree further removed from the last.
Get in line now
Be more like me.
I wanna dissolve the unsurety left over from a thousand
Races that have died out.
Know yourself
Fight the knowledge.
I want to invade the space left by your mind when it rushed
Out to find itself.
Mommy left you
Never forget it.
I want to condition the part of you that takes care of plants
But forgets to turn the light off.
Darkness is a blessing
Only if you let it.
I want to take aim at the eternal you and forever change it.
You are cascading now.
How does it feel
You restless thumb sucker.
You want me to change you, feed you, and take you outside.
I am your new mom.
Momma's gonna buy you
A mocking bird.
You want harassment, a harness, an igloo, and idioms.
I am the fire that will melt them all.
Listen to me
Your time has come.
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 8:47 AM UTC
A vicious attack of that crackling brainiac anthrax
To give back to society
Slack then just grab the heat,
Feed it to the needy who receive it thankfully.
Call it poetry.
Who could see repressed punctuality proceeded
By the kick of a hit or three?
Gimme these retrospective variants
To a counterpoint's last stand,
Or voices
Speaking to a lost cost for freedom
That rips at the rotting veins of humanity-
I stood up for what I believed in,
But the world will too crumble when the sun's light dulls dead.
You can call this rambling for something
To take the brain-scraping ache away-
The pain of the mistaken vacant escape.
Who's to say that we're all just thrown here
To die and to try to believe in something that exists,
And if we can't find it then we're lost and wrong and
Guilty.
Leave me barely breathing if the seeing is now ceasing
To a state of gray monotony,
And melancholy monsters creeping
Out from under the bed where my habits sleep-
And threaten with a scratch, hiss and screetch
To
Wake
Me
Up.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC
To begin with,
We have YOU,
And we have Me.
And we also have THEM, THEY, THEIRS THOSE, WE AND US.
As well, we have:
SOGIES
Asexuals
Allies
Intersexes
Bisexuals
Lesbians
Gays
Homosexuals
Pansexuals
Queers
Straights
Heterosexuals
Gender Binaries
Afabs
Amabs
Agenders
Androgynes
Gender Blenders
Bigenders
Cisgenders
Cross-dressers
Drag Queens
Drag Kings
Enbies
Gender Dysphoria
Gender fluids
Gender Non-conformists
Gender Queers
Gender Variants
Non-Binaries
Questioners
Transgenders
Transitions
Transsexuals
Two-Sprits... and
LGBTQIA+
(Flora and Fauna?)
Does Genesis have anything right?
Nov 30, 2023
Nov 30, 2023 at 10:35 AM UTC
The street is swapped with bodies
Young, old and grey
A sea of strength and weakness
Soft, eager and fragile
These streets are filled with vehicles
3-wheels, cars and motorcycles
Vast need for speed with myriad speedometers
A different sense of focus, smothers!
Our focus is just to hustle
Be a cobbler, doctor or apostle
Variants of professions, you just have to shuffle
Not the best serenity, man just settles
We focus on vanity,
I wonder if we check deep within
The goal is to reach the top.
We often forget the master of the race herein
We lose our hearts to the matrix
Most times we even forget the margin
The apocalypse is yet to come
Yet we forget, it's most catastrophic
Have You looked within?
What are you yet to see
Is it the future you seek
Or deed incomplete?
Did you notice how much rest you need?
Or how anti-social you have been.
How much you seized to live though Alive
Have you noticed how badly you lost to Hustle?
Apr 6, 2023
Apr 6, 2023 at 8:07 AM UTC
This antique mirror boosts no confidence. Concave
reveals its magic tricks with an incurvate
red surface. Some human hair
blending braids are there to fancify your boxers, your removable
metallic silver suspenders underwear and
her red bra underwire slips. It is a new style.
I feel anguish, when I touch the pull locks. Her picture
of the antique statue is hidden between all those things. She
enters the mirror to kiss you every time you look at it. Like jelly candies
are her lipsticks on that silver, but
they have different taste. For me,
they look like isoquants, or indifference curves. I want
to leave you. What do you think?
The water that drips from the mirror, when I wash it, is like crimsonblood. Scary
optical illusions split the reality into two variants through my woe,
and create a much looser and less direct relationship
between us than ever. You live for
your comfort and versatility. You cannot change it.
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 9:32 AM UTC
I am counting things
at night numbers, dreams
hum of a hundred bells
soft harps to soothe
sweet with birds colored blue
in the tiger grass, big eyed cats
twitchy whiskers and paws
they sleep beneath tree limbs
branches wild and gnawed.
Do not wake me
while the garden is glowing
a thousand flowers in rows
I am fixed on violets
hydrangeas indigo blue
with fingers I paint thick
brick in red rose variants
on the lawn peacocks in resplendence
with monde blue-green iridescence
and a million gypsophila clouds pass by.
Feb 10, 2021
Feb 10, 2021 at 5:28 PM UTC
For single, retired folk like me
Christmas and Bank Holidays are a bind.
Everything is closed,
No buses running,
Friends, like me, are staying home.
No pub for me today.
No squeezing through hordes
Of once a year drinkers
To get to the bar.
I’d rather enjoy my armchair
At home.
But the peace is pleasant,
A nice winter break.
Right now it’s all about
That baby in a manger
Being visited by three wise men.
I have a Christmas Dinner
Ready to microwave
And stocks of beer, whisky
Plus crisps
To keep me going.
Plenty of time to reflect
On another year gone
As seventy looms large for me.
Another year of Coronavirus Variants
As we work our way through
The Greek Alphabet.
Another year of stops and starts
Having to adapt
To whatever monster rears
Its ugly head.
I’ve kept playing table tennis
When the hall’s open
And walked to pub or café
When they’re not closed.
Doing well for a veteran
Can’t complain.
It’s peaceful at Christmas
That’s my refrain.
Paul Butters
© PB 25\12\2021.
Dec 25, 2021
Dec 25, 2021 at 6:51 AM UTC
It Is Not the Sword!
by Michael R. Burch
This poem illustrates the strong correlation between the names that appear in Welsh and Irish mythology. Much of this lore predates the Arthurian legends, and was assimilated as Arthur’s fame (and hyperbole) grew. Caladbolg is the name of a mythical Irish sword, while Caladvwlch is its Welsh equivalent. Caliburn and Excalibur are later variants.
“It is not the sword,
but the man,”
said Merlyn.
But the people demanded a sign—
the sword of Macsen Wledig,
Caladbolg, the “lightning-shard.”
“It is not the sword,
but the words men follow.”
Still, he set it in the stone
—Caladvwlch, the sword of kings—
and many a man did strive, and swore,
and many a man did moan.
But none could budge it from the stone.
“It is not the sword
or the strength,”
said Merlyn,
“that makes a man a king,
but the truth and the conviction
that ring in his iron word.”
“It is NOT the sword!”
cried Merlyn,
crowd-jostled, marveling
as Arthur drew forth Caliburn
with never a gasp,
with never a word,
and so became their king.
Published by Songs of Innocence, Neovictorian/Cochlea, Romantics Quarterly and Celtic Twilight. Keywords/Tags: King Arthur, Arthurian, Merlin, round table, knights, stone, sword, Excalibur, chivalry, Camelot, Uther Pendragon, England
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 7:43 PM UTC
The Measure of None. Such Brisk Term persists
With such French Smile point heavily Define
For better Candidates this Room consists
Rebuke my Head his Sentiments consign
Though Red in Growth would my Adventures be
To catch one day his Heart-Fulfilling Flame
Burn Palms in Silver Trays he would concieve
Then Rebuke once more was ever the same
Or else if Dare to draft another Muse
One on Levelled Papers my Songs endorse
Would Models beware for Standards I choose
Then pay the Pauper by Mercy enforce.
To Open the Eyes such Cool Variants ply
Then Accept their Heavenly Patterns sigh.
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC
Let's have a worldwide election for Peace on Earth forever! We're all Citizens of the Earth. Why not let everyone on Earth vote at the same time for the way she or he want the world to be. We already have the technology to do this. Do we collectively want world peace? Do we want to exercise our natural right to determine our own future? How many of you would vote for War--any kind of War, even World War III--that would destroy Earth and all living creation on it? Or would you prefer a world of equality, of kindness, of love? Would you prefer a world of letting everyone do her or his own thing, but do nothing that would cause harm to anyone else? All equals. No class system. No deprivation of food, good housing, great education, total freedom of religion (but no attempts to try to convert others). Citizens of Earth--all 8 billion of us--would be the government of Earth. There would be no president of Earth. Citizens of Earth would send their ideas and submissions to members of the General Assembly (around 200 elected for one five-year term by Citizens of Earth from districts that formerly were nations) who then would form them into proposals to be voted on by Citizens of Earth during the last two weeks of every month. Everyone worldwide would have access to smart phones (with one's own personal ID #). No more nations. No more borders (the world's air and water don't give a **** about them! Nor does the pandemic, with all it variants). We shall come to delight in our differences. We shall come to celebrate the variegated colors of skin, the different cultures, the different customs, languages, foods. No more aggrandizement, no more profiteering, no more money. No more wars, no more killings, no more *** trafficking. No more corruption, no more dictators, no more weapons of any kind. Just love and Peace on Earth forever. It's utterly doable! Think about it. Talk to your family about it. Talk to your friends about it. Talk to strangers on the street about it. It's our world, after all. Let's have an election and create a world in which we all can live without fear. Peace on Earth forever.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 8:05 AM UTC
Life at 21, do you remember it?
Things rush at you, hit you, from all directions.
Any small decision can turn into a major plot beat.
What are our lives anyway but the sum of our decisions?
Opportunities contract and expand around us, like breathing—
and what fills those lungs are our test scores and faculty opinion.
College is a land of dreams—we’re all dream catchers—on our own paths, but the paths are mazes shrouded in haze, tumblers in need of combinations, variants that we must learn and memorize though it drains our communal blood.
At test times, the silence in libraries and coffeehouses is deafening,
full, as they are, of hunched-back phantoms toiling on books or blue-lit screens. If it sounds stressful and dramatic—it is. It’s not a time to get raddled—it’s all a big test.
Your world contracts to the sterile and dry— the facts and the moments needed to gather and order them.
That’s why we love breaks. Fall, Summer, Christmas, Thanksgiving—any flavor—break.
In fact, Lisa and I are on break now, I’m typing, on a MacBook Air, in a helicopter, screaming towards Manhattan.
If we don’t die in this shaky, 250mph, 3000-feet out-over Long Island Sound, cricket-like contraption, we’re going to have a great time—if we do nothing but sleep, hug our families and eat turkey—a great time.
.
.
Songs for this:
Little Hercules by Trisha Yearwood
Constant Craving by k.d. lang
Nov 21, 2024
Nov 21, 2024 at 2:51 PM UTC
Against her breath
Ashore the rocky mountain sides
You appear in scattered variants
In the sticky four confines
And well sufficient speaker of lectures
You appear as a whole
But so in a fit of desperation
And sad clenches of my own chest
That call my name and tug at my hair
Up here
You are away
Tucked quietly in between
My few free seconds and downtimes
Even when you show amidst my days
I do not claim a desire
Even in the hours
That you have my every fiber captive
Even in the sunken pillows at Midnight
That sag from weeping
And in the sickness that surfaces by day
In the quiet seconds and the louder ones
I know that you and I lay to rest
Below the bustle and quiet
Of our city noise
And rest there
Peacefully so
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 12:38 PM UTC
He never wanted
to be stymied or recalled.
If the Spiff could plough through
enough people as a blasé traveller,
he would bag their yesterdays.
But looking through their Zebra glasses
over time , whose skies are really
outdone by the proverbial
"mind your own bees wax" ?
it was always the same, the arcane strain,
like overhearing variants of Serbo-Croat
on an unheated train to Chippenham.
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 3:36 PM UTC
1.
A child should never be taught to hate
And human beings must never be insulated
Or inoculated against the horrors of war
2.
There is no liberation in this economy
Debt is a slower and slightly greyer
Variation of slavery
No more cotton fields but prison labor
Tell me where is our great modern emancipator?
3.
You may be shocked
But the truth is
We are strange variants
4.
There are no perfect promises
Life guarantees nothing
5.
Tears of laughter
Veil tears of frustration
Improper reflection
On taboos and tragedies
Burning cities
And dying loved ones
This is not where the
Laughter comes from
But it is where the laughter
Is needed most
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 5:44 PM UTC
Nuzzling a hand around your ear
For I fear misinterpretation
My words travel a severe distance to your mind
Being mangled by knowledge and mood
Innumerable variants in your atmosphere
They climb the mountain traverse the bend
Around the noise from the colliding friends
Nearly fall due to mighty winds
Placing there pick on your ears end
Scrawling through the cave where monsters live
Scawled by dragon and stabbed by spike
Plummet through a giant sieve
Bloodied and battered the snowy peak in sight
Hoping to flash images in your mind’s eye,
They’ve been tainted and destroyed
Your constructed lies.
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 9:34 PM UTC
all the variations of myself
they live beside me and within
they yearn for breath
they yearn for touch
phantom desires, phantom dreams
all these writhing ghosts i made
through a life unfulfilled
i gave them each a crafted star
fashioned from my broken heart
now i suffer with a plethora of spectral winds
this one blow this way
and that one blows that way
i don't know wich way to go
my imagination burst through my body
and forcibly prevails upon the world
this one wants to be a dancer
this one wants to be a girl
this one wants to be an addict
but i just want to be loved
one thousand and one sepulchre's
each containing a piece of myself
sustains these twisted variants
that i myself have made
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 12:26 PM UTC
what color is hate?
think hard, answer, not easily up-conjured,
obvious choices, careful be, exclude not, some voices,
no rush, think upon it careful, after all, hate hates variations,
it, as old original as the Garden of Eden
you desire answer, something quick, *****
look to very nature of hate, so easy spewed,
after centuries of construction, yet, there is
nothing quick about hating, tho learnt early on
some variants of millennium length, eons short,
oh weep, at this great irony of ironies, hate is so
innate engrained, is it in the red blood, cells of the
white colored brain apparatus we all share?
unnatural impossibly genetic. don’t believe it.
hate is colorless like air, like clear water.
how else could it be so easy given, taken.
innocent innocuous is the color of hate,
easy transmitted, and never to be a vaccine
until it can be seen how we implant it within ourselves.
11:40pm
Sat Jul 11
Jul 11, 2020
Jul 11, 2020 at 11:47 PM UTC
I turn and look inside myself
And I enter a world of angels and demons
The light, and the dark,
And so I watch these ethereal visions
Variant: Angel
The wind whips at my hair
As I stand in a deserted parking lot
With birdsong playing all around
Angels as doves, reminding me all is not lost
They circle high, and swoop down
I look up and my face is bathed in light
And am given the strength to push on
To succeed at life, to keep pressing the fight
I silently thank these angels from above
For allowing me
To find serenity
From the visions of a dove.
Variant: Demon
Surrounded by darkness,
Crows peck at my flesh
They steal the air from my lungs
And laugh as I suffocate without breath
They caw at me, laughing,
As I fail to live my life
Showing me my own torture weapons:
Scissors, razor, knife.
My scars rip open
And my blood comes gushing out
Yet it's not this that kills me
It's my mind being smothered by doubt
Epilogue:
I open my eyes
And think: torture or serenity?
Do I wish to feed my demons
Or release the angels stored within me?
Ask yourself this question,
Every time you make a decision
Will this choice drop me dead
Or keep my heart, pulsing, beating?
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 3:20 AM UTC
Friends, this is a short poem about naming of the mutated forms of Corona virus. So far the names of the variants ‘Delta’ and‘Omicron’ have been taken from the Greek Alphabets which are 24 in number. But the Chinese who gifted the World this deadly Corona virus, have around 20,000 charters for their use. Therefore, they have a wider option to choose from for naming the virus when it mutates in China in the future. With Prayers For a Corona Free World, - Raj Nandy, New Delhi, 09 JAN. 2022
+NAMING THE CORONA VIRUS VARIANTS +
MY FRIEND ASKED ME ONLY THE OTHER DAY,
DO YOU KNOW THAT OMICORN VIRUS IS ALSO
SHOWING FLASHES OF DELTA VIRUS THESE
DAYS?
I TOLD HIM I ONLY KNOW THAT THE WORD
‘CORONA’ HAS BEEN DERIVED FROM THE
LATIN WORD FOR CROWN WHICH IS ‘CORONAM’,
AND THAT ON 11 FEB 2020 W.H.O. NAMED THIS
NEW DISEASE AS ‘COVID-19’, WHICH IS SAME
AS ‘CORONAM’.
IN THAT CASE HOW ABOUT THIS ‘DELTA’ AND
‘OMICRON’ MY FRIEND HAD ENQUIRED.
I TOLD HIM THAT THEY ARE MUTATED VARIANTS
OF CORONA, USING THE TWO LETTERS OF THE
GREEK ALPHABETS BETWEEN ALPHA AND OMEGA.
NOW MY FRIEND WAS AWARE THAT THERE ARE
24 LETTERS IN THE GREEK ALPHABETS.
SO 22 LETTERS ARE STILL LEFT TO CHOOSE FROM, -
AT A FUTURE DATE;
LETTERS LIKE BETA , GAMA, LAMDA, MU, SIGMA AND
UPSILON, AND SO ON.
BUT THIS VIRUS SHOULD DIE DOWN BY THAT TIME
I HAD HOPEFULLY REPLIED.
BETWEEN ALPHA AND OMEGA THERE WOULD BE
SUFFICIENT TIME!
BUT IN CHINA THINGS ARE NOW GETTING
OUT OF CONTROL I HAVE HEARD.
EVEN FRUITS THERE ARE GETTING CONTAMINATED
WITH THEIR HOME- MADE VIRUS!
FOR THAT YOU NEED NOT WORRY AT ALL MY LEARNED
FRIEND HAD CONFIDENTLY REPLIED.
THE CHINESE HAVE MORE THAN 20,000 CHARACTERS
INSTEAD OF ALPHABETS, - ON THEIR SIDE!
BUT THE CHINESE HAVE TO KNOW ONLY BETWEEN
3000 AND 4000 CHARATERS FOR THEIR DAILY USAGE.
WITH ENOUGH CHARACTERS TO **** THEM SEVERAL
TIMES OVER, SHOULD THE VIRUS CONTINUE TO
MUTATE AND SPREAD!
WHILE I PRAYED FOR THIS CORONA VIRUS TO
DIE DOWN AND FADE,
WHICH HAS BADLY SHAKEN UP OUR WORLD
AS ON DATE;
BUT AS A POET I ALSO SEEKS ‘POETIC JUSTICE’
FROM THE GODS OVERHEAD, -
TO PUNISH THE COUNTRY RESPONSIBLE FOR
ITS INITIAL SPREAD! AMEN!
-RAJ NANDY, NEW DELHI.
Jan 9, 2022
Jan 9, 2022 at 12:47 AM UTC