Post by moseley on Jun 20, 2011 5:07:06 GMT -6
of course, of coarse,
we dance on the lines of the recessive allele
bounding green eyed vexations,
before going blind in the decay of our macula
and fallen, we note this one accord with a light
champagne gene, Trigger and Roy never had a chance
but right then and there,
this delicate element of whim and choice..
of cores, of courts,
merrily we are the butchers in the mirror,
believing in the appearance of phenotype
painted faced clown with porcelain vexations
and nary a wrinkle...
wild elements of the winds stirring in our blood,
mingling in our hearts and finding our way in some
selective symmetry when chance takes us
in some preprogrammed response to swim upstream
some parts of us cannot die because they were never free to live
just slaves in the plantation of our body
and we, the unwitting subjects of some petri dish conclusion,
spilling our seed onto the earth, beseech the Golden Dawn
and with magick, would dispell, Ra and El for Isis,
crisis, as if we always have written about this genome
with names and metaphors because we hadn't the numbers
to play the game of manipulation,
as we are now......
and with some turns and twists in the sweet array,
can we make love from where there were none yesterday
in the barren field of unknown borders, shall we cross
into evolutions hands the means for our own seafoam remnant
to claim us in a cascading crash
of meandering meaninglessness that we have crowned
significant...
of course, of course,
in this certain way we waggle about the borders
of new Magellans and ponder that we have no stake
like Columbus did with all of the Carribean,
but his was but the will to take, and endure
those moments otherwise, to have it all and evermore
of buildings, of governments, the raven, nevermore
Alice's milk was the white rabbit, if it spills down the hole
but a failed woman shall always make Y
unless a pirate says x marks the spot
and the anatomy of such symmetry,
we still use a word like twat
Drawbridge Crick, for which an amateur fathered
the understanding of the dance where one must lead
and the other accord, we have forever written,
fashioned and mimicked the dogma of
the leading and lagging strand,
without considering how the equation occurs
at all in the spiral up or down,
we are at once in this dance, reverencing our ignorance
calling it a name, and shooting the label gun
of insignificance against the dreams of pioneers,
adventurers and thieves.....
this simple math of some replication fork
turning up in all those Okazaki fragments
and we, at the turn of reading the lines of each allele
and binding, forget that the writing we can do most greatly
is within the tablet of our cell-f....
we can still do so much more,
before the village idiot rolls the dice
and opens up our apoptosic obsolescence
we dance on the lines of the recessive allele
bounding green eyed vexations,
before going blind in the decay of our macula
and fallen, we note this one accord with a light
champagne gene, Trigger and Roy never had a chance
but right then and there,
this delicate element of whim and choice..
of cores, of courts,
merrily we are the butchers in the mirror,
believing in the appearance of phenotype
painted faced clown with porcelain vexations
and nary a wrinkle...
wild elements of the winds stirring in our blood,
mingling in our hearts and finding our way in some
selective symmetry when chance takes us
in some preprogrammed response to swim upstream
some parts of us cannot die because they were never free to live
just slaves in the plantation of our body
and we, the unwitting subjects of some petri dish conclusion,
spilling our seed onto the earth, beseech the Golden Dawn
and with magick, would dispell, Ra and El for Isis,
crisis, as if we always have written about this genome
with names and metaphors because we hadn't the numbers
to play the game of manipulation,
as we are now......
and with some turns and twists in the sweet array,
can we make love from where there were none yesterday
in the barren field of unknown borders, shall we cross
into evolutions hands the means for our own seafoam remnant
to claim us in a cascading crash
of meandering meaninglessness that we have crowned
significant...
of course, of course,
in this certain way we waggle about the borders
of new Magellans and ponder that we have no stake
like Columbus did with all of the Carribean,
but his was but the will to take, and endure
those moments otherwise, to have it all and evermore
of buildings, of governments, the raven, nevermore
Alice's milk was the white rabbit, if it spills down the hole
but a failed woman shall always make Y
unless a pirate says x marks the spot
and the anatomy of such symmetry,
we still use a word like twat
Drawbridge Crick, for which an amateur fathered
the understanding of the dance where one must lead
and the other accord, we have forever written,
fashioned and mimicked the dogma of
the leading and lagging strand,
without considering how the equation occurs
at all in the spiral up or down,
we are at once in this dance, reverencing our ignorance
calling it a name, and shooting the label gun
of insignificance against the dreams of pioneers,
adventurers and thieves.....
this simple math of some replication fork
turning up in all those Okazaki fragments
and we, at the turn of reading the lines of each allele
and binding, forget that the writing we can do most greatly
is within the tablet of our cell-f....
we can still do so much more,
before the village idiot rolls the dice
and opens up our apoptosic obsolescence
