Quotes about genes, page 12
What Is Permanent
who you are when you
are born
can be permanent
a boy another girl
a chubby baby on the crib
the thin one
barely breathing in the cradle
the sleepy one
sucking milk from the
mother's breast
sometimes you know
there are no choices
with what the genes gave
to the spine
and the skull
these are permanent shapes
what we can choose is
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Believers
Inheriting the dust of street
something of a lofty ideal
in politics of poverty, I want to get back
to my native moon.There are
too much wounds here.
My green blessings came from the dark.
Sun was altering the geometry of crops.
Genes were manipulated and the
debate was running on fiction.
Down the drain went the hybrids.
To glow or not to glow was the big question
and the hunger was discovering the cause.
Suicides had toppled the numbers
and clouds had become colorful.
God knows when the ceremony will end.
poem by Satish Verma
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Rhythm And Song
My wife and I never got along.
I like rhythm and she likes song.
She likes the tunes flowin' through her head.
I like the movement of the beat instead.
Now what we need is a kid to make things right,
one with a song and rhythm in his sight.
Maybe the blending of our genes will bring
one who can dance and still like to sing.
We've been trying four times
and all we've done
is create four kids who don't have none.
They're all tone-deaf and can't keep time.
But our house is filled with music
and we're all doin' fine.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Scotland calling.
Scotland Calling.
A land of glens and mountain streams.
Chuckling softly as they flow
A land that haunts the exiles dreams
with memories of long ago.
The dreams they have inherited.
Passed down inside their DNA.
Although some doubts are merited
It seems to be the only way.
We can explain memories
of places we have never seen.
Though scattered through the colonies
It seems embedded in our genes.
Is an urge which prompts us to.
Visit the land our forebears knew.
Saturday,28 August 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Inheritors.
A silent world where no bird sings
A world devoid of living things.
Only the fittest could survive.
The Roaches adapted and still thrive.
The human race has long since died.
Killed by their overweening pride
Although they thought they were the best
they are as dead as all the rest.
Ignoring Mother Natures rule
a race of self destructive fools.
They meddled with and altered genes.
Creating hybrid in betweens.
The end result is as you see.
Cockroaches rule triumphantly.
29/10/2009
http: // blog.my space.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Intrusion
If & when the blinds suddenly
unfurl, then there is the blatant intrusion of sun;
the evil it has made is dastardly,
lifegiver, lifetaker, stylish god to indians, mesopotamians,
what-not, cliffdwellers & subterraneans,
hairy stinking beasts who carried forth our genes
on watery trays of indecency
sitting all day in the sun complacently
I do not like contemplating the forest man
his spitting can
his unclad feet crushing all cantipedes,
scorpions, curling bugs that want to hide,
yet cannot via the intusion of humanity
poem by Stan Petrovich
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11: 13 P.m.
now that i have fed all the mosquitoes
i think, i must
go to sleep, and this is the last poem
for all the female mosquitoes
that i have
loved before
and still love
tonight
all of them
have sucked
my skin
and all of them
are now
silent
contented perhaps
and so happy
that there is still
a man
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Male parental hierarchy.
My parents are two, grandparents four
And great grandparents, eight and so on.
I am known by my father, his father,
And his father and so on by male side.
My mother, her mother and father, their
Mother and father and so on are ignored.
My fathers’ mother and grandfather’s
Mother and so on go to oblivion.
I am known by my father, his father
And his father and so on as a family.
All women from whom I have drawn
Their genes have been shut out.
Parental hierarchy is represented
By male, women dislodged at every stage.
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poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Nature’s Always the Best
Why change the rose’s hue to black and blue?
Why spray the chickens with colors galore?
Why trim the shrubs into the shapes we think?
What God has given stays always the best!
The genes will manifest their innate traits;
The environs can alter them a bit;
The laws of Nature work even in freaks;
Flawless is God’s creation to the core!
Let man align with Nature in all spheres;
The mind of man can’t control Nature’s ways;
All Nature’s furies, man can’t comprehend;
God is the Master of the universe.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-5-2009
poem by John Celes
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Imagine
Imagine information in the palm of your hand.
Imagine the knowledge of a library at your command.
Imagine all books written just a touch away.
Imagine all media at your finger tip each day.
Imagine a device that causes a mental revolution.
Imagine how it calculates with instant execution.
Imagine a discovery rivaling all human means.
Imagine its place in the mapping of genes.
Imagine where this miracle will take mankind.
Imagine unimaginables there still are to find.
Imagine love ruling the world some day.
Imagine how mankind could then find its lost way.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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