The Pan-Spirit-Essence Free-ence

A spirit-essence the most dense,
Always is, I sense,
From our 0-prima tense,
From the infinite whence,
Before it, of it and all its thens,
The Spirit does expense,
& into infinite it commence,
Until sooner or the farthest synnence,
By the unending winning eu-currence,
With Him who creates, promotes to fence,
The singular greatest Hence…



Audio Here:

Ions, cell-lines & Millions of eons,
and we got the life we’ve seen as,
We need to get that everything is in alliance,
Nothing defy those- the rulin’ s of L’IBios!

Hey kid it’s natural to you,
We feel but never say we do,
That it’s a nano, mili and mega thru,
An essential trios, combinin’ to L’IBios,

Time to get that it’s never simple and small,
It’ll take more RAMs and Hertz than you can call,
Life here crams  and blurts info that you can try-
To nose, the vast IBios, L’IBios,..

Muscles n the myos, close the Cori’s arrows,
via Livers and the Glia never mind sending some kinda goals,
To’em n’ll, in a jungle, amid a parasitic triangle,
That is a phylogenetic cringle, it flows, L’IBios, L’IBios…

Forget the Riemann and Lebesgue, n no offence,
We need Freeman and La’Best Integration, friends,
From axioms, magnesiums and the museums, of-
of every logos, the floss homologs of L’IBios,

L’IBios, the Integrative Biology,
It’s all over the Life Tree,
And over me, over thee,
We gotta get the key,
To unlock the treats,
We here arouse, to L’IBios,

Personal Doctor

Those pills that I chew,
& the syrups that I take,
Ain’t better than that photo*,
They are false, they are fake,
‘ve been taking them for weeks,
For the doctor’s sake,
But still got the flu,
Got fever, got ache,
I need a doc, that makes no tests,
The one, on beach under sun, who rests,
To feel my pain, my heart, arrests,
Kills with kisses, cures with hugs,
& with smiles on face, beside me nests,
That cure has no better,
None, but a letter,
With the doctor’s sign,
That tells of mine,
The letter nurse lent,
For a permanent appointment,
Saying I need the doc.
Who’s out of stock,
’cause the doc’s so busy,
With letters so rosy,
But it’s not easy,
For me, dear,

& I need badly…

The Personal Doctor…

* That photo was yours.
P.S. You’ve got your PhD, that’s fair enough.

Abstract:- Doctors are gods ( or could be… PhDs…)