Saturday, October 12, 2013

DNA - by Bob Atkinson

(c)2013 Bob Atkinson

my gates are those of iron bars
my walls of cut stone blocks
my floor of cobbled rocky bricks
my roof a blue endless top

my fears not finding root in my
garden of goodness, or evil muses
my talent sufficient for this task
of mounting forces bent for duty

thoughts displayed so deep within
a combination of instructional threads
on how to build my body good
how to lay out brain inside my head

forces from ages past
cause my every move
dragging me into actions
not so clearly understood

here, in this present world
my duly conscious home
I ponder deep recesses
of my unlit past life's form

terrain within my body
which determines how I act
gives each effort maximum value
while defending from returned attacks

oh, some force within my cheeks
buried deeply inside my toes
causes grand illusion of reality
predetermined by much older folks

in my response to all events
self tells me what to do
when pushed to give reaction quick
DNA regulates my next few moves

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