A conceptual map of genetic engineering art-voyage
PARENTS' BLOOD TYPES CHILDREN'S BLOOD TYPES
A+B AB or A or B
A+AB AB or A or B
B+AB A or B
B+O O or B
AB+O A or B
AB+AB AB or A or B
A+A A or O
B+B B or O
O+O O
conceptual poetry map+biology+metabolism+metaphysical voyage to known and more- than- I- know attitude formations
Related quotes
Contemporary Sublime Poetry(2012)
What is contemporary sublime in contemporary poetry?
1) concept and conceptual pattern and stucture in poetry(e.g.discussions, seminal culture, negotiation and reinterpretations...)
2) Third mind and fourth mind culture; more than one culture in mentall formations and sensations in parallel or in conjuction with
3) Realizing conceptual and post-conceptual poetry in details, not totally.
(If you want to have a discussion about this, call me at 09-730-57-103) you are welcome! ! ! ! !
Also, we're all actually different blood types and we have one represented by each guy in the band.
quote by Anthony Kiedis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Somebody like Mailer brings to that role everything that he stands for. The types of characters that I gravitate towards, the types of icons, tend to have a heavy physicality in that way.
quote by Matthew Barney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Wife Without Children?
My parents’ blood runs in me.
My siblings and I have same blood.
My wife’s blood is different,
But mixes with mine in our children.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I've acted with all types, I've directed all types. What you want to understand as a director, is what actors have to offer. They'll get at it however they get at it. If you can understand that, you can get your work done.
quote by Ron Howard
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
A Digital Map Of Anatomical Body
moving compositions
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
...
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
contemplated erosions below! ! !
The body detailes concepts!
Introduction To Post-conceptual Poetics(2)
conceptual poetry is not like poetry but post-conceptual poetry is more like a poem of immortal death-death reflecting the happening of death.At the same time death or concept or conceptual metaphor becomes a butterfly flying into the textual eyes of the reader, reflecting and analysing the post -death death, poetics of life which can only be grasped by changing levels of realizing energy of focus on the combination of truth-condition and satisfaction-condition.This is the ghosted identity of post-conceptual poetics in the 21st century digital-culture raising hunanity in a surversive way.
Introduction To Post-conceptual Poetics(3)
conceptual poetry is not like poetry but post-conceptual poetry is more like a poem of immortal death-death reflecting the happening of death.At the same time death or concept or conceptual metaphor becomes a butterfly flying into the textual eyes of the reader, reflecting and analysing the post -death death, poetics of life which can only be grasped by changing levels of realizing energy of focus on the combination of truth-condition and satisfaction-condition.This is the ghosted identity of post-conceptual poetics in the 21st century digital-culture raising hunanity in a surversive way.
Interesting
There are so many different types of interesting.
Maybe you were trying to use a euphemism.
Most people don't want to hear a dysphemism.
You might of thought it was irresistible.
Theres a opinion going around that it was unfashionable.
Maybe it was very very sad.
Oh no you didn't say is was very very bad.
No one got to hear anything except that it was very interesting.
Its too bad because you had so many types of interesting.
The Syphinx's Look (Stream I)
In a vacuum.
No sound to penetrate
without thinking they
Slid sliding into love,
Hip hopping out again
As easy as pie
Pi r squared.
As difficult to decypher
as the syphinx's look
Brought to book
All that mystery
and no, I know where to go
It wears me out
You know,
Go-
Go on find it, its there
Whilst I'm here
Do you hear there.
Their eyes lock
The key to their depair
Unable to stand they sit
Stare upon the stairs
With eyes that are all eyes
Mince pies.
Challanging the stereotypes
He types and types
What types he likes.
She bites the hand
But she not being fed is
Fed up so she eats,
Eats to forget the pain
They slip slide further apart
Hey break a heart,
That's the heart of the matter.
No matter.
P H Brookes Copyright 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Not A Pretty Sight
A poem should be a pretty thing
Or that is what I once thought
Really a poem touches you
Where you are and where you are not
As there's different types of touching
There's different types of poems
Some metered some rhymed
Some just a cry
As there's touching when you
Politely just want to get by
Then there's touching when you're
Afraid and think you're going to cry
Of course there's back slapping
Hand holding and warm embrace
Then there's that last touch
Just before the color leaves you face
poem by Tom J. Mariani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
2012 New Dimension Of Conceptual Poetics: A Post-conceptual voyage - Nyeinway
there is no tensions between concepts and objects
but there is misconceptions of taking sensational compsitions leading to obsessive diggings stuck on mental faculties
out of moment-to-moment coincidence between senses and sense-objects, directing to subtle mental compositional phenomena
which is the mapping uncreative sphere to conceptual poetry: a post-conceptual voyage.
poet nyein way(Yangon) 's findings in 2012.
Blood Red Roses
Blood red
The roses she'd
Always received
Blood red
Blood red
The sole chroma
Of her world
Blood red
Blood red
Spurted out from
His thorn-like barbs
Blood red
Blood red
Her anguished life
Assiduous
Blood red
Blood red
Her favorite
Shade of roses
Blood red
poem by Alice Vedral Rivera
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Who Must Take Care of Old-aged Parents?
Which child will care for parents when old-aged?
Which child will show compassion and respect?
Which child will find the time to talk kind words?
Which child reciprocates their affection?
Gone are the days of joint family system!
Gone is the sense of values in people!
Gone are the times when blood was quite thicker!
Gone with the wind is honouring parents!
Have parents not showered love on children?
Have they not slogged to give them life's comforts?
Have they not nursed them whenev'r they fell ill?
Have they not done their duties to their kids?
The world today is selfish to the core;
Children just want the wealth of parents old;
None volunteer to tend to old parents;
Children show scarce love to their parents dear!
What has then come upon children today?
Who should take care of parents, elderly?
Should not one's children take care of parents?
Much love seems lost in families these days!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poetry is something to make us wiser and better, by continually revealing those types of beauty and truth, which God has set in all men's souls.
quote by James Russell Lowell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Old-Testament Gospel
Israel in ancient days,
Not only had a view
Of Sinai in a blaze,
But learned the gospel too:
The types and figures were a glass
In which they saw the Saviour's face.
The paschal sacrifice,
And blood-besprinkled door,
Seen with enlightened eyes,
And once applied with pow'r;
Would teach the need of other blood,
To reconcile an angry God.
The Lamb, the Dove, set forth
His perfect innocence,
Whose blood, of matchless worth,
Should be the soul's defence:
For he who can for sin atone,
Must have no failings of his own.
The scape-goat on his head
The peoples' trespass bore,
And to the desert led,
Was to be seen no more:
In him, our Surety seemed to say,
Behold, I bear your sins away.
Dipped in his fellows' blood,
The living bird went free,
The type, well understood,
Expressed the sinner's plea;
Described a guilty soul enlarged,
And by a Saviour's death discharged.
Jesus I love to trace
Throughout the sacred page;
The footsteps of thy grace,
The same in every age!
O grant that I may faithful be
To clearer light, vouchsafed to me.
poem by John Newton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Every Aspect Of It!
Just because you do not see me driving,
Do not assume I am not licensed to drive.
Or that I do not 'think'...
Because I do not look the part.
You don't see half the things I do and have done.
Nor are you on my agenda.
And folks who focus their sights on others...
Are the first who find these times we live,
Difficult to adjust.
Even though they feel they 'must'...
Demand understanding,
Without participating in the development of it.
You know the kind...?
The ears closed, mouth open types!
With claims they don't know what is going on!
And rush they do to prevent,
The circumstances of truth.
Coming to bombard and overwhelm.
With the consequences of their ignorance.
You know the kind...?
The ears closed, mouth open types!
Yet conflict they are quick to define...
Instead of using their minds to take time,
Comprehending remedies.
To set aside a strategy...
To stop the havoc that has begun,
Happening in their own lives.
You know the kind...?
The ears closed, mouth open types!
And this kind of mindset today,
Is reflected on a massive scale.
People into minding the business of others...
Have found their business in shambles.
Every aspect of it!
With shock and disbelief,
As a return for their 'investment'!
You know the kind...?
The ears closed, mouth open types!
The ones who rush to cover their butts,
With implusive mindless decisions!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet-The Wiser Man
Two types of men can rise up to the top;
The first by luck, by pluck, the easy way;
But in the end, he proves to be a flop;
And hence accepts defeat, calls it a day.
The other rises by sheer labor, sweat;
The rise is phenomenal but so rough;
He has no reason much to fume or fret;
Though blessed by God, his life was indeed tough.
Which of these types of men, you belong to?
The former gets rewarded here on earth;
The latter gets rewards in heaven too;
God gives him satisfaction and great mirth.
One’s name and fame must be destined by God;
When earned by human toil alone, 'tis odd.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
If You Want Blood You Got It
Its criminal, there ought to be a law
Criminal, and you know what were shootin for
Shouting at the other guy
When his back is turned
Dont know the reason why
Aint it bout time you learn
If you want blood, you got it
If you want blood, you got it
Blood on the sheets, blood on the rocks
Blood in the gutter, give my last drop
You want blood, you got it
Wha-ooh
Its animal, livin in the human zoo
Its animal, and I know what you gotta do
Its the curse of the working man
Givin more and gettin less
Doin everything he can, cleaning up the mess
If you want blood, you got it
If you want blood, you got it
Blood on the sheets, blood on the rocks
Blood in the gutter, give my last drop
You want blood, you got it
Ooooh (shove it)?
You want blood, you want blood
After you
Blood on the sheets, blood on the rocks,
Blood in the gutter, give my last drop
You want blood, you got it
If you want blood, you got it
If you want blood, you got it
If you want blood, you got it
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Olney Hymn 20: Old Testament Gospel
Israel in ancient days
Not only had a view
Of Sinai in a blaze,
But learn'd the Gospel too;
The types and figures were a glass,
In which thy saw a Saviour's face.
The paschal sacrifice
And blood-besprinkled door,
Seen with enlighten'd eyes,
And once applied with power,
Would teach the need of other blood,
To reconcile an angry God.
The Lamb, the Dove, set forth
His perfect innocence,
Whose blood of matchless worth
Whould be the soul's defence;
For he who can for sin atone,
Must have no failings of His own.
The scape-goat on his head
The people's trespass bore,
And to the desert led,
Was to be seen no more:
In him our surety seem'd to say,
'Behold, I bear your sins away.'
Dipt in his fellow's blood,
The living bird went free;
The type, well understood,
Express'd the sinner's plea;
Described a guilty soul enlarged,
And by a Saviour's death discharged.
Jesus, I love to trace,
Throughout the sacred page,
The footsteps of Thy grace,
The same in every age!
Oh, grant that I may faithful be
To clearer light vouchsafed to me!
poem by William Cowper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!