Quotes about genes, page 19
Dignity of Human Life
A bunch of leaves upon a guava tree,
Remained non-growing, ever since its birth,
Without producing flowers, fruits or seeds –
Result from environs or its own genes!
A rare phenomenon my eyes could see;
A sad situation for a branch to be,
Reminding of freak babies born, may be,
A fault of Nature or its parents, see!
To hear of babies in millions unborn,
And killed by parents while within the womb,
Is sadder still and gruesome holocaust,
That’s happening today in modern world!
Oh, what a shameful society, we are,
To kill our healthy children God-given!
And live as ‘gay’ to do unnatural sex,
And satisfy a lust that is big sin.
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poem by John Celes
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The eye of silence
My eyes were ringed with darkness
And the dew of sadness
Blanketed my genes.
Your words of love
Were on the left angle of my lips.
I wanted you to be able
To continue this story of love,
But the chestnut leafs yellowed
So dramatically in autumn,
The wind really tortured itself
In the cold air
And the cold penetrated forever
The spine of my loneliness.
Only with you
I have seen the unseen
And I understood
The meaning of unmeaning.
Only you can make love
To have a deep sense.
You became my cherished memory,
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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You Have No Shortfalls!
You are as perfect as the sun, to wake up every day,
And To rest every night in the quietness of dark rays,
You have no shortfalls to concern, but you have treasure,
That is stored safely in each and every cell of the divine shelter,
The shortfalls and inadequacies are created by the mortals,
You have the divine body to keep clean and display as portals,
Ignore the gossip of the weak, that tries to collapse your Citadel,
Stand tall and be happy as you have no shortfalls, as visuals,
You can run fast and take rest as you desire,
These jungles, made of trees and concrete, are ours,
Go out and play with the rain, snow and the cheating moon,
Babies are there to watch, oldies are there to catch for wise fun,
Youngsters are there to print the genes of new generations,
So you have no shortfall, as you are among any one of them.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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The Answer From Two Daughters When Asked How Is Their Mom
their mom has terminal cancer.
and i ask the younger daugher, how is mommy?
she says on the phone, ' she is doing fine. we are are the airport
and waiting for our 3 p.m. flight back home'
and the older daugher's answer to the same question:
' mommy has breast c, and she is feeling the pain
...she's not entertaining the option of invasive surgery, , ,
or the costly chemotheraphy.. the doctor is giving her
some options...but she's definit.. she simply wants to be home
and be with her dog and garden... she does not change
her mind... she's definite... God's will...
let us pray for her. Regards to you and Em.'
Got it. Progenies coming from the same source of genes,
sometimes are different. How does one see a tragedy?
or an end to something? how does one treat someone dying?
i may tell the truth. Who knows? I may not too. Who knows?
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Me
Ask me how I'm doing? 'Very good I say '
My life is good, bad memories I try and keep away
I write as therapy to get me through
All the pain from the past, when I was blue
I write alot of things, about my life
I write about things that brought me strife
I am constantly thinking what to write about
Sometimes I write so I have no need to shout
Sometimes I write straight from my heart
Maybe helping others to get a brand new start
Alot of time depression comes sneaking in
And that's when I get out my paper and pen
I look around me and will always see
That there are those that had it worse than me
I write as a hobby because I enjoy it so
It makes all the bad things have to go
I'm not usually sad by any means
Sometimes insecure, thats from my genes
I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me
My life is good and I'm finally free
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poem by Donna Nimmo
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It Could Be That
there is a built-in conflict
in this triangle
it is there and will never be
demolished
it could be among you,
God and
the others
it could be you,
your id, your ego and
the super ego,
it could be the child in you,
the parent later,
or the responsible thinker
it could be man, heaven and
earth
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Our Own Kin
our own kin
name tags on my chest
genes in my flesh
our own skin
bearing our own family names
tattoos of our
marked existence as part of this
and that
roots
on our feet
and vines in our hands
wherever we go
we are us
our own kin our own skin
our identities as sons of these fathers
and mothers
as favorite grandsons
hope of the family tree
integrated
not grafts
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Two Edged Sword
Down there past the pearls
Way past molecules
Past genes and planets
Past the ancient tree of the
Knowledge of good and evil
Living worlds of choice
Do you ever get a glimpse?
“When the doors of perception
Are cleansed we shall see things
As they are, Eternal”
Who shall cleanse these doors?
Wise men marvel at a baby king
Flesh and blood cannot enter
Those that try are burned alive
When they are in the desert, don’t go
When they rent their great halls, don’t go
When they try to sell you things, don’t go
Blessed are you meek
Blessed are you that hunger and thirst
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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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3%
3%
My shirt is torn I’m bloodied by thorns of anger. The bushes by the narrow track
are almost covering It, I tried to fight my way trough, the maze but lost. I have to
leave this territory to its own device; it will not listen to my 3% growth rate as
they expand at will. Born free, just like the Taliban. I could have made a nice
suburban garden here, one with rules, respect for law & order with democratic
trimmed hedges, soft lawn and palm trees, palms tend to decorate resorts, they
lend dignity to places that charge a lot of money so city dwellers can enjoy tame
nature with their Martinis. Palm trees have good genes, perfect education, Eton,
the rest of us are trained apes, we pick the coco nuts stand in awe, we admire
our exploiters. I walk in our town’s park now, gardeners keep, it trim, it’s as lovely
as unwritten postcards bought at a tourist route that has a growth rate of 3 %.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Reflection Of Hope
They didn't grow inside of me
Next to my heart
But they have my genes
So they are my own
Most of them hug me, giggle
Clamor for attention
Beg for stories, except treats
want to sing and sleepover
In their world i built tradition
I am thanksgiving and Christmas
A memory maker serving cookies with praise
Encouraging their ambition
To them i am not slow but fashionable
A helper of homework who speaks strange words
They tell me i sound 'cool'
In their unstable world
I offer that rarely chance
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poem by Anushka Arora
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