Long Chromosomes Poems
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Sometimes I want nothing more than to sit and watch you sleep.
The sound of your steady breathing soothes my heart.
Your tiny fist curled under your stubborn little chin.
A reminder of your father whom you resemble so much.
Sometimes you sigh and I wonder what you dream.
A silky curl of hair lies caressing your pudgy cheek.
Recipient of heavenly angel’s kisses before you came to me.
A blessing and suprise you were given to me to protect.
To love and raise up in the image of our true Father.
A difficult task and I feel I’m not up to the challenge.
But I try everyday and sometimes I succeed only to fail.
But your fearless spirit and irascible smile they heal me.
Lead me on to another day another chance to do it right.
A soul sent down from above to mix with genomes and chromosomes.
Spin out and form a wonder in my body nestled under my ribs.
Cherish him the heart cries, teach him the brain declares.
Save him the warrior inside commands and I am overwhelmed.
Until a firm voice enters in and sets things to right.
I will cherish him, I will teach him, I will save him He says.
It is the voice of the One, the Alpha and the Omega, The I am.
Your duty is to be his mother, his confidante, his shelter.
You will provide him sustenance and love and be his guide.
Show him the way, lead him to me for you are all my children.
This is my son as well as yours I gave him to you to keep for me.
One day I will call him back and you will be ready to let go.
He is a part of my plan, my army, my missionaries and my design.
I hear these words and they frighten me, he is MY son.
But I hear the truth in them as well and am burdened with sadness.
With dawning realization I discover that your smile, your laugh.
They are glimpses of heaven and the master plan is clear to me.
With guidance, support and love you will fulfill your destiny.
I carried you inside me, nourished you and cared for you.
Yet you do not belong solely to me. You have a higher goal.
Perhaps you will dance or teach or fight against bitter odds.
But whatever cause you undertake I will be with you there.
Never alone for the bond can not be broken by earthly measures.
And that no matter when or why I should show no hesitance.
For I know that I will always be with you wherever you go.
And for now while you are my sweet baby, you are mine.
Form:
(for chikbok girls four years after elegies of lost)
And we opened the book of remembrance again
Tickling all ears that are designed to be deadly.
We filled the cups & buckets with tears of blood,
Bloody tears as the cloud rises from dark night
& the horizon of our lives radio out our prayers
in pleasure & pleas recording poetry into broken
Rhythms of the kings bird' songs singing elegies untold. We recoiled this pages of cries into folded arms. Lost is our liberty ephemeral into chaos.
This light of darkness are now printed in our
palms of history tormenting our own feelings.
they left home through the corruption of their father's land. You know, their lies ferried them
into Sambisa to go & tell a tale of their crimes.
the chromosomes of their pigments lacked the bravery within the wrinkled nose of their cheeks.
Lives are buttered fireflies &worms of mediocre...
We may not know how pains taste until untitled chapters of sorrow unfold in our lives to seek revengeful voyage of our sins towards our home.
We televised their lies on the national televisions,
tilted the head of our cocked brain into gadgets
in a ballroom of miscreants clothing our beliefs.
I opened this book of remembrance again,
For my lazy sisters that struggles effortlessly amidst leaves and shrubs of looting leaders.
for their tears composed a musical notes,
for their fight created astraying street steer
I held upto these fallin' memories in a graveyard
into the abstract demon of my noble moralities,
into black races, into an abstract journeys.
brittle of the papers written in absence of our
ourselves, in the pictures of our lost self issues.
we will gather these soothsayers to the cloud
to sooth out those prilgrim girls in the moon.
till then, let this dance be of survival &revival,
of those deaf & dumb girls kept in the bosom of emptiness. they made them voiceless like the pages of a blank books but we know all their magic tricks in the closet of their ignorance.
No chikbok, no Dapchi girls but looting politics,
Politics that has strange mouth & shadows.
Until this madness is cleansed from our souls
Point towards your chambers & crack your mind
We are mocked movies trying to be seen by all,
a documented fairy tale in the heart of all.
©John Chizoba Vincent
From_A_Pen_Refusing_frustration
This is where my grief met Jeremiah's lamentations
OUR FATHER
As far as the east is from the west, that’s how far the Lord has removed our transgressions from us?
Why do I feel not far removed from my sins or the sins of others?
Suffocated by faults and indiscretions of human-ness that lacks discretion
Of fearlessness; the lack of intuition
Of childishness but a child born in the wrong time?
But God’s timing is always right?
Can you see this Lord?
Is heaven mastering this disaster only for our inferior minds to finally resurrect from the shambles?
And realise that You have been building us a new city all along.
I believe in the Author of fate so maybe that is where my hope springs from
Or from the crippling fear of the effects of reality
Disappointment
Shock
Is this how feeble we are as humans?
How our chromosomes, blood cells, alleles all created from dust can just wither away when one gust of wind comes before we can find shelter
How our intangible thoughts are invisible holograms that effect nothing
Our father who art in heaven should we lose faith while we are on earth because there is plenty in heaven?
Will we make it the pearly gates with our infirm humanly wrongs and all the cavities punctured in our teeth
And speak to the guardians in low tones of how we praised the Creator on earth forgetting to mention how our own faults in the sweetened land He placed us in; have led us to corroded incisors
We consume more sweetened sin than soured heaven.
I cannot stare at my reflection in the mirror because I feel like a ghost
And legend has it that once the undead return they leave no shadow
They simply exist among other human humans
Who put status updates on their whatsapps saying ‘be still and know that I am God?’
It is easy to be transfixed in the same position when the walls around you are not caving in
I feel I have been saying much without saying anything,
Because maybe this conversation should just be between me and Him
But I do not know what to say to Him
My human human-ness has failed me once again
So maybe He could just look into my laden heart, desperate thoughts and fearful mind
And decide where I can go from here
Where they can go from here
Where we can go from here...
For Thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory forever and ever
Amen.
Gracious fortress of caring fortitude
Guarding by their compassion’s latitude
Governing to soar through faith’s latitude
Guiding with attitude of gratitude…
God blest our parents’ love-packed magnitude!
Daddy’s chromosomes in his fatherhood
Blended with Mama’s genes midst motherhood
Nourishing fully healthy babyhood
Toward fruitful nurture of adulthood…
Yes, we salute their faithful parenthood!
With Dad and Mom’s steadfast, sweet partnership
Around strong and endearing fellowship
We, their children did learn wise stewardship
With glad followship and joyous worship…
Creating in us servant-leadership!
Good provider always – that’s Father
Gearing housekeeping skills of Mother
Indeed complementing each other
With their home-craftmanship together…
They’re role models to me, Sis and Brother!
Along their driving mentorship force
We’re trained to enjoy our daily course
To work well, shutting slothfulness’ doors
Warned against problems brought by debt-source…
Around contentment and commitment discourse!
As masterpieces’ molders, so clear
Dad and Mom with guidance, very near
Kept us counseled midst precepts we hear
To face functionally pressure-tear…
Oh, they propelled us with righteous steer!
In their consistent life-building zest
They sought God’s instructions for what’s best
Shaping behaviour toward finest
For virtues crest, inside values’ nest…
Praying for our future, vibrantly blest!
Championing kindness against hatred’s pain
Dad and Mom let us savour pardon-gain
With forgiveness pursuit, sans guilt’s stain
Freeing our hearts from bitterness-strain…
Making our home thrive in heaven’s domain!
They’re not perfect since we saw them pout
Sometimes, their assertions made us doubt
But they never failed to reach us out
With beware cautions against wrong route…
Now, we are on right track; “Thanks so much.” We shout!
As great heroes in their own right
My parents* radiated truth’s light
Constructing sturdy legacy-height
Victorious by the Lord’s grace and might…
Along priceless name yon treasures’ delight!
*Ephesians 6:1 Children, obey your parents in the Lord: for this is right.
March 30, 2024
2nd place, "Legend" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 4/10/2024
Why am I missing you in Wyomissing
In Wyomissing where WiFi waves warp Whitman's words
I'm wiki-wishing scrolling through digitized déjà vu
Mississippi .mp3s Mississauga .gifs Missy Elliott remixes
Mishmash of missed misplaced hyperlinks missing persons
Y-chromosomes yearning in Wyomissing DNA double-helix twisting
Your LOLs a lyric lipslock softly #hissing history rewriting
From Issigeac to Missouri's twisted Twitter feed Insta-stories fleeting
Absence makes the heart grow fonder indeed™ (patent pending).
Persisting thoughts insistent as pop-up ads spam in the place where I lived
Roaming data plans streaming memes gone mad mad libs mad love
Enlisting Siri Alexa cosmic GPS Googling "how to forget ex"
To where your heart might choose to compress decompress or stay perplexed
In Wyomissing I sigh and I sit bit by bit byte by byte
Sky vast as the cloud no storage limit limit does not exist
Committing to journey's jumbled algorithm rhythmic logarithm
To find you love my heart's lost rhythm arrhythmia of the soul
Dismissing doubts like spam keep on insisting
Our love's a flame forever resisting
Extinguishing persisting through trials by fire(wall)
Never desisting crossing all area codes morse codes zip codes
Twisting paths and listless constellations celestial navigation
I'll travel far ignoring Terms & Conditions contractual obligations
Transmitting love my heart's submitting committing omitting
To find you no more words omitting remitting or permitting
So here I am in Wyomissing's embrace interface about-face
Memories of kisses a lingering trace copy-paste ctrl+z can't erase
From Mississippi to Issigeac's charm disarm false alarm
I'll roam the world semantics disarm semantic fields semantic yields
But as I search for truth's revelation information overload
A twist so dark beyond explanation quantum entanglement implodes
In my quest I find a terse text next perplexed hex
From you my love "New phone who dis" Dismissed missed kissed-off list.
In Wyomissing where dreams unravel travel advisory
I learned the truth your heart's new travel Marvel universe multiverse
My heart now shattered can't keep dismissing missing hissing
Y R U ghosting me in Wyomissing Existing in digital abyss sing
Y am I missing U in Wyomissing?
(Please read part 1 first or this will make no sense)
To the scientist’s dismay, pressing the cancel button was ineffective. The plunge into his past continued inexorably. It, however, was not without its benefits. Henry’s skin became supple and his muscles bulged as in his youth. His hair returned to the light brown that he hadn’t seen in decades. For the first time in decades, Henry felt, not just okay, but good and joyous in his renewed youth. He decided to stop his slide into the past at about age twenty when he would have his degrees and could live his career over again. If his “other self” was there, Henry would assume a new identity and make a whole different life for himself. It was an unprecedented opportunity and he meant to make the most of it.
Near his birthday in the year 1970, Henry hopefully pressed the cancel button and was rewarded with a loud click. But instead of gliding to a stop, the time machine accelerated in its journey into the past. Henry experienced the hormonal rush of puberty and felt adolescent acne break out on his face. Within minutes, a reverse growth spurt cut his height by several inches. Soon, he was a young child at play, oblivious to the danger of his situation. The year 1950 saw a tot and then a cooing baby. When August 8th passed, the infant suddenly had an umbilical cord attached to a nonfunctioning placenta. Its two umbilical arteries throbbed desperately, but the return blood through the umbilical vein was not oxygenated, nor did it contain essential nutrients.
Membranes enveloped the devolving Henry who now had the “old man” appearance of a fetus. Then he became a blastocyst, ready for implantation in a nonexistent uterine endometrium. Within seconds he regressed to gastrula, blastula and then the berry-like ball of cells called morula. Like some weird countdown, he became 64, 32, 16, 8, 4, 2 cells and then a zygote.
The paternal half of Henry’s chromosomes disappeared next, leaving only an ovum ready for fertilization. Even that became an oocyte needing to complete meiosis before it vanished entirely in the immature ovary of Henry’s infant mother.
Henry Higgins, born August 8, 1950 and died November 8, 1949, physicist and time traveler is missing forever.
Brave New World
A 'world' it is and it spins around in mad circuits of loopy loops.
Has reached an infinite array of denominations in which foolish
insane clowns have taken over the asylum once more as bedlam
pretends liberation as the counterfeit currency of nauseating progress.
'New' I have my doubts though when fiddling with reconstruction
conjures novel aspirations from Holocaust to Hiroshima from pure
race unadulterated megalomania to narcissistic greed ‘all can be
done’ but the genie emerges from Huxley’s toxic bottle unrestrained.
'Brave' should pertain to courage when golden means and common
sense of virtue defaced by ugly grimaces facades mascara of tainted
moderation succumbs to mediocrity construed by disingenuous evil.
An aberration of jesters plotting naked feasts of blinded engineering.
Temptation is an ancient theme and just because we are capable to
plot our own demise does not preclude some hesitation or valid
inhibition as courage must incorporate the rationale. Not to follow in
wolf’s clothing a script of Faustian cloning just because we can.
Manipulation of chromosomes through twisted recombining helices
as a stairway to hell gave us Dolly the sheep. Another incarnation
braying ‘Give me body parts’ to harvest stem cells modified amino
acids like little devils on steroids and protein shakes of unpredictability.
The most cunning argument for creating whole new persons brought
to the fore the notion that if we the ‘good ones’ do not follow science
to create what evolution failed to build from nature’s garden and God’s
promise then the malign others surely will and consequently all is lost.
The mind boggles in the light of self-righteousness and the delusion
that refusal and resistance are signs of cowardice and the misconception
that two or numerous wrongs result in right and law when duty could
prevail as guardian for another world of sanity and accepting our limits.
The thought police and miscreant paradigms of Dolly’s dogma will surely
try to silence my opinion that courage has another merit than the scientific
infestation that my mind and brain needs to be cloned in order to restrain
my voice of caution but when I shout ‘enough’ at least my dignity remains.
I seem to have forgotten
the purpose of civilization
we are to animals
as animals are to a basket of forks
C.J. Jung as the UFO pilot
in "Freud Attacks" a talkie
a flaming romp through the hubs of hell
hI kids it’s time for potty training
let's rent a car and take refuge
on the runaway truck ramp
I reached for the emergency brake
got a box of cigars instead
one of the 7 Psychological Wonders
the six others are too hideous to mention
I think we'll need subtitles for this movie
10,000 years of metaphysical illumination
and it's still all work and no play
Where might we find the Way of Fun
although when the black and white keys
all sound at once it still makes me wonder
like tearing your clothes off
at a funeral and jumping on the casket
screaming I've always been ready
OK that's death wish Wonder number 2
apparently life is not a symbol for something else
sponge my brow nurse this is delicate
but is it a subset of something else
as a catalyst to sensation
that's the appetite monster Wonder 3
mom made voodoo dolls from my ****
art is the candle in the skull
I have the power of death she moaned
where language is used to annihilate language
using words as an accusing narcotic
in the holy 4th Wonder of guilt for all things
a lot of ifs in there searching for what's next
tinfoil helmets will be issued
for the car bomb inferno
of the internal saboteur Wonder 5
next a blank diploma emeritus
from the Wewelsburg Engram University
a knife in the Oedipal eye Wonder 6
needless to say the Clinic of Doom
quickly ran out of volunteers
needless to say my chromosomes
cringe under their bed
awaiting a wonderful martyrdom
how did we become radio transparent
and make bargains with man-beasts
I guess a person is as smart
as they want to be
rather than as they need to be
the aid of uncopied ideas never hurts
the act of abstraction is child's play
I feel it my duty to tell you
you can do it in your sleep
but yesterday is gone for good
mourning and loss leave behind
a bed of fragments from Wonder 7
a person incapable of introspection
is a total failure as a human
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Paternal grandmother's headstone - Beth David, Elmont, Long Island
Shaindel (Sadie), variant of Shana Harris
died May 13th, 1959 exquisitely chiseled
alphanumeric characters legibly engraved
sepulchral casket entombing lovely bones
deoxyribonucleic acid repurposed into me
Matthew Scott Harris patronymic protector,
when I die taking family surname to netherland
who unwittingly named his youngest daughter
after his recently deceased father's mother.
Mortality encompasses subsequent cremation
never mind death of yours truly unbeknownst
mine soul will migrate towards deceased kith
kindred folks only known courtesy genealogy
descendents called Eastern Europe homeland
upon landing at Ellis Island émigrés hugged
immigration officials and illegibly scribbled
unpronounceable/ unreadable birth names
subsequently adopting common shorthand.
Chromosomes reconstituted genetic material
gifted from forebears ecstatic immigrants apt
to be regaled by relatives hustling newcomers
into fast paced frenzy, the latter gesticulating
at cityscape marveling over hubbub jabbering
babble synchronized in tandem with hawkers
and vendors selling, peddling comestibles,
gewgaws, papers, et cetera predating buyer
beware analogous to innocents abroad say
by George an American in Paris humming
Rhapsody in Blue.
Agog regarding novel sights never seen within
father/mother land, viz supposed New World
blitzkrieg eventually quieted, relegated, shelved...
analogous by Dickens perusing tchotchkes
commonly found within olde curiosity shop,
yet no matter acclimatization arose espying
eye opening merchandise, the dirt poor status
regarding bloodlines a couple generations ago
immediate deterrent experienced by Aaron
Harris (papa's father) as a boy, who provided
for his family, their hardscrabble existence
only somewhat alleviated thru hook and crook.
Please pardon poetic license usurped,
especially slight exaggeration of penury
promulgated concerning up by bootstraps
scenario evinced by paternal grandfather
after he attained and emerged out boyhood,
though destitution imprinted thru his infancy
until growing up hardened qua hard school
of knocks limiting him to eighth grade education.
Adventitious existence birthed introverted spiritual outlier i.e. me
Speculative fictitious flirtation imagined
courtesy grown old male offspring (me)
begat when mine late mother and father met
former named, a popular Arthur Murray
ballroom dance studio instructor.
Subtle social cues (nonverbal or otherwise)
relayed, linkedin and exchanged
constituting courtship between
Harriet and Boyce
particularly on Valentine's Day
circa ~ mid 1950's.
Two young lovebirds
oblivious to cares and concerns
of uncertain webbed wide world
passionately kissed each other
murmuring sweet nothings
within most convenient ear of the other.
Romance blossomed
requited love ensued
avowed marital troth pledged,
a June 1955 wedding planned.
Soon thereafter
bedroom door locked, I presume
unbridled call of the wild
high powered pistol loosed
courtesy soundcloud hit bullseye
with figurative vroom
biological seed of life
and white Lily fertilized.
Thirteen months after eldest sister born
suckling from horn
of good hope
breast nursing done during the morn.
Forthwith brother planted in womb
hereditary characteristics transmitted
eons old traits disseminated
multitude of random chromosomes
deployed comprising frothy spume
housed generations foregone
maternal and paternal genes
unleashed unwittingly bequeathed
by ancestral forebears
anonymous long forgotten handsome groom
memorabilia couched as tintype
(also known as
a melainotype or ferrotype)
treasured analogous as
if relic dug up within ancient tomb,
perhaps clapper and bell foretold whom
yours truly acquired his
mental health predilection
predisposed toward gloom
mindset swirls with nihilistic doom.
Psychological angst chafes and doth abrade
existential crisis rooted psyche with ankh ring
travesty, mockery, and entropy cast charade
circumspection immediately
brings to forefront
of consciousness positive (necessary)
risk taking I did evade
exemplified by failing nearly every grade
inferiority complex insinuated and did invade
mucking up healthy livingsocial buzzfeeding,
when too many cooks spoil the broth,
hence being superfluous kitchenaid,
hence as schnorrer I masquerade.