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Archive for March, 2012

Blood Poem Part 2 Finis

Continued from the post titled Blood, we follow Bob (AB+) in his journey through O-type blood.  Getting rejected by Zoe was only the beginning of the hardships he would face.

The last sentence was:

And Zoe looked at Bob and said, “You’re not my type” — We pick up the poetry from here

 

So Bob then said that, “I can change!”

“A, B, and O can blood types range!”

“I shall thus rid these antigens”

“So to avoid the pathogens.”

Zoe, offended, sharply said

“Pathogens are not your dread”

“Antibodies — what they are”

“And they will chase you near and far”

 

Bob was being chased by B, A, and D antibodies.  One could say he was in a BAD situation.  You know, when I think of antibodies latching onto a red blood cell now, I think of this:

But that is totally unrelated to this story.  The similar names are just a coincidence.

 

Exasperated, Bob exclaimed

“Oh dear, I wish not to be maimed!”

At this fool was Zoe much ticked

“They do not maim, they only stick!”

And then Bob was all like “Oh”

“Then I fear them not, dear Zoe”

He reach-ed out an antigen

And touched the Type-A pathogen.

The A-Type antibody clung

“It does not hurt!”, so Bob had sung

And Zoe was laughing all the while.

Heedless, Bob kept on his smile.

Thus the antibody bound

Itself to antigenic ground

Then it spied another cell,

AB+ Commence the hell

The antibody lurched one way

Bob, surprised, could just say “Hey!”

The other cell, his name has Rob

And just by chance, he had known Bob

Two sworn enemies, they were

Now approaching in a blur

Antibody fastened tight

Unto Rob, time for a fight

But then the fight was interrupted

Cell membranes had been corrupted

Agglutination had occurred

And death could now have been inferred

The moral is that AB+

Transfused to O will cause a fuss.

For adventure, do not yearn.

Or death will be a lesson learned.

 

FINIS

 

I would also like to take a moment to say that iambic quadrameter can defenestrate iambic pentameter any day.

The foremost reason for this is that there is a saying somewhere that the maximum number of syllables clearly sayable in one breath is 17 (this has something to do with haikus being a sum of 17 syllables).  Two pentameter lines make 20 syllables, an awkward vocalization.  Two quadrameter lines, on the other hand… 16 syllables is much more comforting.  The problem is that if a breath is taken between line pair, the rhyme is forgotten.  Quadrameter allows rhymes to be emphasized.  Iambic quadrameter is awesome.

Now that the blood poem story is done, time to move on to other things… like the Blood Type Conglobulation simulation.  It will be colorful.  More colorful than this:

Blood

Using an incomplete Chromomancy engine, a totally different side project was made that has nothing to do with fractals or dots.  It is called Blood.

It is a metaphorical microscopic view of blood.  There is a border, and credit goes to “DanDaBear” for that and I own no rights to the picture and all that legal stuff.

More importantly, there, in the yellowish plasma (different kind of plasma than the one in Chromomancy), are a number of red circles.  Those are red blood cells.  They move around.  That is all there is so far.

But just to keep my mind clear, I’m going to list all the features I plan to have in this project in order of implementation.

1.  Different Blood Types

2. Mixing different blood types.

3.  Blood conglobulation (that word sounds much cooler than agglutination).

4. Sound effects.

5. Background music that may or may not relate in an obscure way to Angora Rabbits.

———-

Now, some poetry!

Once upon a time, there was a Red Blood Cell. Its name was Bob.

Blood Cell Bob was AB+

And life was boring, no big fuss

For adventure, Bob had yearned

And so he’ll have a lesson learned.

All Bob wanted was to meet

Another cell, an O to greet.

Foolish Bob had left his home

In other blood, he will now roam

Searching for a friendly O

He finally found a blood cell, Zoe

In excitement, Bob had spoke

In hopes his poem could invoke.

Shall I compare thee to a red balloon?

Thou art more mobile and more beautiful

Rough winds do shake balloons awry at noon,

And Helium lack color plentiful.

Sometime too bright the dye of plastic shows

And often is the red complexion dead

And every fair from fair malady grows

By chance, or nature’s changing course, unsaid

But thy eternal redness shall not dud

Nor lose possession of that fair thou O’est

Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his blood

When in eternal veins to blood thou flowest

So long as cells are red, or veins are blue

So long lives this, and this gives life to you.

And Zoe looked at Bob and said, “You’re not my type”.

Poor Bob 😦

Shakespeare is probably shouting profanity at me for making such a mess of his sonnet.

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