How I became Undead…

I was conceived inside a petri dish
my father an eye dropper –
my mother a couple of frozen eggs
pulled from an egg bank hopper
I do not know who I look like,
though my head is quite pliable –
and mother has been long dead
to ask her – I’d look the fool –
 
Some seem to find me rather strange
with character marked as odd
because I prefer hanging in dark labs
with pieces of now dead bods
but all undead are different, with
where and with whom they choose to roam
and for me being (dead or undead)
a petri dish will always be my home…….
 
 
bkmackenzie 2010
 
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This entry was posted in Poems, Poetry, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to How I became Undead…

  1. Tim Keeton says:

    Verry nice.

    but all undead are different, with
    where and with whom they choose to roam

    Indeed.

    Rhyme on!

  2. soulintention: signed .............bkm says:

    thanks Tim, yes indeed we all different…..thanks ….bkm

  3. Jingle says:

    being different is cool
    you r unique…

    beautiful writing!
    😉

  4. very intriguing! I liked it 🙂

  5. soulintention: signed .............bkm says:

    thanks Jingle and lauren — glad you both enjoyed it…….bkm

  6. Jodi MacArthur says:

    This is quite bizarre. A prose poem, I think. I like the bookends of the petri dish. It sounds like a government experiment gone wrong ( and yet it’s right).
    Very thoughtful piece.

  7. soulintention: signed .............bkm says:

    thanks Jodi, glad you enjoyed it…..had fun with it (there is no place like home)….bkm

  8. woih says:

    I do hope you hang around dead bodies writing poetic lines 🙂
    “whom” sould be used more often..

    love the writings

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