Medic medic
Amoeba down
Hurry hurry
Before it drowns
Step step
From there to here
Medic medic
Has no fear
Dividing dividing
The nucleus splits
Membranes membranes
All have slits
Fix it fix it
Cytoplasm’s spilling
Rushes and gushes
The scene is chilling
Stitch stitch
The vacuole
Medic medic
Has a micro-tool
Amoeba amoeba
Will survive
For now for now
On a micro slide
But wait wait
Paramecium
Medic medic
Can you see him
There there
In a morass
Sliding sliding
Off the glass
Drat drat
Coz really a
Medic medic
Can’t fix cilia
Panic panic
Cells are dying
Flagella flagella’s
No longer flying
Sorry sorry
Some protozoa
Die die
Bye sporozoa
Medic medic
Always on call
But but
Can’t win them all
The city of the cell within me buzzes as I sleep.
The vacuole that surrounds it keeps it safe inside of me.
And though today I eat you, by tomorrow you'll be free.
-But until then, won't you keep me company?
I don't intend to harm you, though I bet you do taste nice.
I swear by good intentions, but sometimes I don't think twice...
Some think that we dear protists have hearts made of just ice-
-But boy do I love to give some good advice!
My days as a protist must be coming to an end.
Sometimes I engulf you just to feel something again.
You don't know what it's like to have to eat all of your friends.
-I haven't talked to anyone since -I don't know when!
I don't eat to entertain
No two protists are the same
I just want to know your name
I don't mean to cause you pain
I'm just a little lonely...
...and you're the only thing I can engulf. <3
I arrived with the face of a ghost, or an apparition
of belief that substance could be contained within a
box of stone...or upon the bark of a tree, a memorial
existing only in the vacuole of one's stanched chest.
The universe is calling us to be ourselves, though
it is not always an easy call to answer, for a quiet
madness can never wear the clothes of a dream;
too many things can go wrong and for most we never
do find our way back.
Still, tomorrow will come dawn with all it's travails
and steady notions of a tongue dividing it's p's and q's,
for the sake of...well...speaking...through a quivering spine
perhaps, all deep tissue tense and anticipating,
And thus we reach over the sun, to touch the
waves that danced at our feet, knowing that this
must be enough for now...as for me, now, in departure,
I am thinking of taking up sailing...of taking my chances
against the tide, where perhaps some far away god
will look down and see no more than a flawless speck,
barely noticeable, dressed as myself against an island of blue.
(March 12 2016)
four star circus
side show of war,
thugs on a hillside
another killing floor,
greedy men squabble loudly
gulping down the poor,
coalition vacuole
futility galore,
sobbing children in the dust
silent tears like rain,
generation lost to time
born in tragic pain,
greener valleys stretch on out
blot out the crimson stain,
sons and daughters of the fist
hope for love in vain,
win the peace, slogans fly
bloviating head,
metal coffin rocky graves
feel hobnail tread,
darker cabals plot it out
empire must be fed,
marching legions to the borders
muster in their stead,
parched throats choking on a crust
bitter unslaked hate,
plowshares beaten into swords
blood debts won't abate,
who can say what life is worth
as condolence payment made,
trembling fluid, parchment hospice,
eyelights slowly fade,
sunlight melting slowly
moving through the dusk,
bloodshot eyes see clearly
at the future's empty husk,
dirty smiles, broken grins,
polluted tonic for our sins,
old hob just sits and grins.