Category: Evolution, Medical & Chemistry

Con Occhi Aperti

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crimson king
In the Court of the Crimson King by Barry Godber – the subject of which is clearly just having a singalong.

 

Con Occhi Aperti

If I don’t close my eyes when I sing,
Don’t think that it means that I don’t mean a thing,
When all that it means is I don’t close my eyes.

It don’t mean I don’t know the words,
Or when comes the moment to harmonize thirds,
It don’t mean I’m frightened of botching the song,
By notching too low for the highs.
I’m just like the whole throng of songbirds,
Whose eyelid ain’t tightened and eyeballs are watching,
Whenever they sweet vocalize.
If I don’t close my eyes up to sing
It just means I don’t close my eyes.

If I don’t move my lips when I pray,
Then don’t get to saying I still must be praying –
I could just be thinking away.
If I don’t snap my fingers in time with the beat,
If I don’t nod my head and I don’t tap my feet,
Don’t think I don’t got it,
Or done gone and shot it,
If I keep my feelings discreet.

I don’t need to wring out no tears to sing out,
Cos weeping – that just ain’t my thing.
It just means, besides, that I don’t close my eyes,
When I don’t close my eyes when I sing.

 

 

White Knowledge

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raven foot
Common Raven Foot by Glori Berry

 

White Knowledge

Hey, have you heard the news ?
It turns out ev’ry single bird,
From ducks to crows to cockatoos,
Is really just a dinosaur !
I bet you never knew before !
Oh, I guess you’ve heard…

Well, of course you have, I guess…
We all have – hey, we ain’t naive.
Some facts, it seems, we all possess,
They’re quotes that ev’rybody knows –
Apparently, it’s one of those,
Like, ‘sharks must swim to breathe’.

Like how Brazil and Timbuktoo
Have split apart and drifted.
The jigsaw that’s too-good for true,
Is really true !  And the world is round,
In space our screams won’t make a sound,
And the stars have slowly shifted.

Or how without a pinch of salt,
We’d all be quickly dead.
But sodium and chlorine halt
Our welfare quicker, if we dined
On each alone – but when combined,
We’re kept alive instead.

We know all this, we’ve known for years –
It’s just some stuff we know.
It’s been so long between our ears,
We’ve let it grow mundane –
If we forgot and learned again,
Our minds would surely blow.

But hey, not ev’rybody knows,
We all had to be told.
So someone had to first disclose
That farting fungus rises bread,
Or knocking protons out of lead
Will turn it into gold.

So someone has to spread the word,
And we could be the ones !
For someone, somewhere hasn’t heard,
And we could get to cast the spell,
And see their wonder as we tell
Of how we’re made from suns !

Darker Later

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hair

 

Darker Later

When I was young and fair as fair,
My mother sat me down
And warned me as she brushed my hair
To never pout or frown –
“It draws the sun from curl and frond
And clouds your golden crown.”
And lo ! I once was blond as blond,
But now I’m brown as brown.

 

 

The Golden Future

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blond
My Own Queen by Al Burts

 

The Golden Future

“Blondes to die out in two hundred years” – Playgene

Blonds need blond and blond for blond,
They need two blonds together.
If blond and not-so-blond have spawned,
Their offspring sport whatever:
Some may get the full brunette,
And some may get the raven jet.
Unless they both are blond and blond,
It’s better not to bet.

But not-so-blond can still be blond,
Though blond that’s in disguise –
It lurks within their protein bonds,
If not their hair and eyes.
A secret code that never showed
But down the years is still bestowed,
Until – surprise ! – a newborn blond
Has donned the retro mode.

So look, if both your folks are blond
But only blond by halves,
Then out of their genetic pond
The trait is passed, so says the maths,
To three in four when said and done,
(Though only outward shown in one).
So more and more shall carry blond
Through countless dark-haired sons.

If blonds need blond and blond for blond,
Then blond and blond they’ll get.
In China, Congo, far beyond,
Some sprogs will not be jet.
Their folks may awe at kids so fair,
But they’re the ones who put it there…
So blonds need blond and blond for blond,
But blond lurks ev’rywhere !

 

 

Monæsthesia

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synaesthesia

 

Monæsthesia

The number one is many things:
The first, the last, a third of three,
But never red or cold or soft to me.

And as for feelings Monday brings
Like boredom, stress and starting new,
It’s never musk or Mendelssohn or blue.

My numbers do not stretch in strings
That always and precisely wind
In fixed meanders hanging in my mind.

And yet, for you each letters sings
As glad or cautious, salt or sweet.
To you, my view of life is incomplete.

How am I to love you back ?
My thoughts are elementalized,
My triggers compartmentalized,
And never transcendental accidentalized.
And you with yours all out-of-whack
With P’s as quartz and Q’s as jet
In ways I’ll never really get
When white is white, and only black is black.

I must admit, it kills me
When I think of how I’m blind
To the wiring of your mind,
And the way your neurons spill and slide.
But then again, it thrills me
When I think of how my touch
Can bring about so much besides,
With all your senses catching rides.

 

 

God Bless You !

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gargoyle
Gargoyle at Salisbury Cathedral

God Bless You !

With ev’ry atishoo,
Our souls are at issue –
Unless the Lord blesses it, quick !
But these days, we’re finding,
He needs the reminding
To come down and make us less sick.
So that’s why, I’m guessing,
We shout out a blessing
To keep us away from Old Nick.
But if we keep sneezing,
The Lord we ain’t pleasing –
We let in the Devil, our nose to be seizing !
Malodorous breezes
Are born on our sneezes
That mark the ill winds of demonic diseases.

We’d best stop our messing
And get to confessing,
To put our poor souls on the level –
Cos all of our sneezing
Is proof of our sleazing,
And putting-off prayer for the revel.
It’s better than evens
All sneezers are heathens –
Our allergies come from the Devil.
Our futures, by Moses,
Ain’t smelling of roses !
We can’t blow our sinning from out of your noses.
They don’t need our sneezes
Achoo-ing for Jeezis –
To stop a nose running, get down on our kneeses !

There’s some who say sneezing
Is just nature easing
The irritants stuck in our sinus –
And each unbeliever
Will call it hay fever,
And curse only willow and pinus.
Take honey for tea,
And vitamin C,
And pray for the rain bring their nose dryness.
They think they’re so clever
With Science and Weather,
They think they can do without God altogether –
And when they get sneezes
And sniffles and wheezes,
They just pop a tablet, and quickly it eases.

You think you have answers
For hiccups and cancers
You think that your Science is all
But your days are dreaming,
And eyes that are streaming
Can’t see how your pride gets its fall
So don’t be so cocky,
Your logic is rocky,
For God made the pollen, and made it so small !
But hold on a minute…
If Satan’s not in it,
Then ev’ry atishoo – it’s God who must bring it !
I guess that He teases
As much as He pleases
To bring out more “bless you”s when somebody sneezes !

Watching You Idle

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absent minded
Christina Rossetti by Dante Rossetti

Watching You Idle

I love the way you love to put
Your limbs to work on your behalf,
And use the top side of each foot
To gently stroke your other calf.
I love the way you interlace your toes
So absently,
But best of all, I love how no-one knows
But you and me.

I love the way you stretch and pull
Your sleeves, to burrow hands within
So all that shows beyond the wool
Are fingertips where cuffs begin.
I love the way you flex and click your thumbs,
And use the other eight for drums –
I love the way your body uses stealth
To exercise all by itself.

I love the way you use your eyes
To stare and stare and never see,
Until they catch you by surprise
By darting off quite suddenly.
I love the way they love to smoothly glide
And sometimes fly –
But best of all, I love the way they hide
When feeling shy.

I love the way you purse your lip,
And chuck your tongue, and breathe out slow –
And always lodge an apple pip
Within your teeth, and never know.
I love the way that ev’rytime you smile,
It has to build itself a while.
It’s not your body that I most approve,
But it’s the way you make it move.