Best Beasties Poems
The Man casts a shadow purulent with stealth
Having seen his apportion of nebulous days.
In fear of himself... too long on the shelf
And a vague memory of far better days.
He then lowers his head.
Overcome with a feeling of dread.
Dreaming of marmalade and bread...
As he ponders the end of his days.
"I'm the Marmalade King!" He shouts
To a world passing him by.
"I'm the Marmalade King," he pouts
To those who are left alive.
"Was I somebody once?" He reflects.
"Who was treated with gentile respect?
But I have a vehement tendency to forget
This thing for which I strive."
"There are vile beasties intent on mischief."
He whispers to a Juniper tree aside his tent.
"They task me when I am fast asleep
In a melancholy slumber of sly torment."
Now the tree failed to address
To the comments so pressed
But the King would have to confess,
"You seem a perfect and absolute gent."
"If I truly be King?" He continued to say.
"Then I should lord over all that I see.
But my Kingdom seems to have filtered away
And I'm not sure where my subjects might be.
So I will remain here on this spot
Until my loyal subjects are brought
Whether they come freely or caught,"
Said the King to the Juniper tree.
"Oh how silly of me... I've made a mistake."
He said as he rose from his chair.
"It is good to have given my head a fair shake
As there are new facts of which I'm aware.
I've been unloading my fears
But it has now become clear
While standing right here...
My Kingdom is right over there!"
"I see you're a conifer of hearty regard,"
Said the King to the Juniper tree.
"We must do well to keep up our guard
As lesser mortals have been known to flee.
But I've come to the conclusion.
The outer world is a fallacious delusion
And if I'm meant for seclusion...
I'm glad it's just you and me."
While a callous world attempts to ignore him,
There is a venue for which he might cling.
Made only for him... less dour and grim,
Where he has control over differing things.
And in that sacrosanct place.
He will find not a whiff of disgrace.
Bathed in the love of God's Grace...
All hail the Marmalade King!!
The End
Laying in my cozy bed
And drifting off to dreams,
A sudden panic fills my head:
What if this isn't as it seems?
What if while I'm tucked in,
Slipping into sleep,
Giant monsters and their kin
Through the darkness creep?
I draw my hand back to me,
deep into my sheet,
Scared that if I leave it free
Something monstrous it'll meet!
It's not like this is new to me
When I'm alone in my abode.
Frightsome beasts I fear I'll see-
Is there one in the commode?
Sure, to you it's just a toilet
Standing stock-still in the loo.
But of my mind, when I fear and fret,
You haven't got a clue.
Yes, I know it's just machinery,
But maybe when I flush
Horrors will purvey the scenery,
Responding in a rush.
Eek! Stop talking! Wait, wait, wait!
What's that above our heads?
A rusty, musty AC grate,
Is that what you just said?
I know it's dust, I know it's shadow
Behind the grate's steel bars,
But looking up from down below
I see a face pockmarked with scars.
As I brush my pearly whites at night
I risk a glance up high,
And then I nearly die of fright
And soon begin to cry.
I see the face, still staring down,
Watching me brush my teeth.
Daddy runs in and looks around,
So I heave a sigh of relief.
He gets his tools, tells me to look,
And gently unscrews the grate.
I watch, see neither beast, nor crook,
Nor any evil trait.
After all this time, I've come to see
That I don't need to fear.
Creatures lurk not in shadows near me,
Nor every creak I hear.
I've come a long way, and I'll never go back
To how I was before,
When from every crevice, every crack
I feared beasties would pour.
What's that? It's time to go to bed?
Ok, I guess you're right.
But, um, well, before you go...
Would you please leave on the light?
We go together like chocolate and nutter, Reeses
though we are from two different worlds, species
Young mixed of us become lil beasties
We slaughter anyone who stands in our way, deceased
and we can just claim they died naturally, diseased
We can be so scary, so feared, that there are no more teases
Then we're finally free to run around like its recess.
We go together like a fox in a hole.
We're tied together by our souls,
knowing our love can never be sold,
two lovers have never been so bold,
onto each other we'll forever hold.
Our love is greater than the price of gold
by your voice I shall always be lulled,
never to feel our hearts grow cold,
instead growing stronger with each annual,
toughening up each passing year.
Haters couldn't tear us apart if they dared
couldn't even find our secret lair,
though they might check here and there,
checkin' up and down the stairs,
up those stairs where we sleep in the bare.
Sleepin' and lovin' in the nude
doin' things one might think was crude,
things between a ***** and her dude,
love between a lady and her man,
cause baby I'm about to rock your world
Lions, tigers and bears alarm me, no-brainer!
Zookeepers seem to like them and circus trainers.
Some blokes put gray in your hair - like Freddy Krueger
but strokes are not funny, I panic 'round cougars.
Pythons, parrots and apes distress me, no-brainer
Crocodile Dundee was just an entertainer.
Trees are traps and leopards lie perfectly still there,
they'll permanently jeopardize lots more than hair.
Gray wolves, foxes and deer upset me, no-brainer
Forest rangers take care and jungle campaigners.
Locks don't stop gorillas, stray geese or grizzlies
merely seeing them turns my locks to frizzlies.
Toadfrogs, lizards and hares concern me, no-brainer.
Steve Irwin, I am not, should I make it plainer?
Lions, tigers and bears make me sweat unaware,
wild animal beasties leave me pulling my hair.
Each species has its tools
to do what it can to ensure
its own survival.
We, try our best to
separate,
and say we are not
the same.
We pick a trait to denote
our exclusivity.
Other species prove
their relativity.
Once it was tools
and to our chagrin
we found they all
were using them
and so we redrew
the line.
Language is what
we are good at
until we found
that dog and cats,
parrots and dolphins,
chimps and all manner
of beasties with tales
or not had their own
tales to tell.
What's left for us
to claim as our
special trait?
I vote for
self delusion.
It seems to us
unique.
We murder and convince ourselves
it is for peace.
We raise boys to be killers and then
pretend surprise
when they are.
We foster hate among each other
and pretend
it is not really happening.
We enslave each other
and claim
to believe in freedom.
We pretend concern for
all mankind,
yet make sure that
few succeed.
Yes, I think in all these things,
the animal, we far exceed
This is perhaps the most powerful day,
early spring giving way to the main course,
the trees hastily bursting their buds,
blooming in reds, oranges and yellows -
the reflection of the opposite season,
now with the addition of white,
white as the clouds above,
which can't bring themselves to look like winter clouds anymore -
they lie in the blue air
watching the nymphs and pixies flit through the flowering trees,
they ride high above lawn and pasture;
clouds are the smiling souls of sheep,
sheep from far off and long ago,
remembering when they were lambs at play,
now looking down upon the new fields,
fields that bear witness to the raging torrent of unleashed energy -
this is Mother Nature going all in,
both her feet upon the accelerator of change,
lighting the afterburners with one hand while making a fist with the other,
shaking it at Old Man Winter,
just daring him to give it one more try before October,
that next October when the grass will be tired,
when the tone of light and the shade of sound slow down,
when the clouds will remember how to look like they're in cold air.
For now, the grass shines into your mind -
that's what tells you it's that powerful day of spring,
that special green color,
deeper, fuller, richer, vibrant and electrifying,
it races to your eye and fills you.
Mother Nature twirls in the upsurge of growth -
she can hear it, and you can see it and smell it -
and if you get close enough you can touch it,
blade of grass, leaf of clover,
and you're there with all the wee beasties of the yard and garden,
feeling what spring really is -
all life turning its face to the sun and jumping up and down.
Purging, surging, my body heaves
Flaying, slaying imaginary dragons
Swarming beasties inside my pores
Those nasty little invaders,
Those horrid thieves
Have infested my frail body
The one my nemesis abhors
Lurking, smirking the dark one hovers
Smiling, beguiling he offers up angels
Soothing hungry desperation
Those soft enticing creatures
Those sweet lovers
Are surging through my aching veins
Offering me brief salvation
Quivering, shivering I emerge
Bleeding, pleading for just a little more
Cravenness creatures howling echoes
The whimpering of my soul
The final dirge
My spirit joins that of angels
I leave my body to the crows
My uncle's farm lay nestled in the central Wisconsin hills
A beautiful location sure to cure this city boy's ills
So imagine my delight when invited to stay a week
During summer vacation, this was certain to be unique!
As we approached the house appeared a lumbering St Bernard
Whose regal name was "Caesar" skilled in protecting the front yard
If Caesar didn't know you he'd send you running for your life
His master's safe word left me slathered in drool, sticky and white.
Near the back door the gray feral cat "Bluebell" kept me in awe
As I reached out to pet her she became a Langolier buzzsaw!
Shaken but not stirred, I entered the house without further fuss
In the kitchen barking like a dog was their pet pig named "Gus."
Gus was running around the kitchen chasing after beagle "Snoopy"
Snoopy (primary herd dog), Gus (Snoopy's primary groupie)
When Snoopy springs into action they just leave him on his own
They know Snoopy will not return until all of the cows come home.
The yummy supper was comprised of the finest, freshest food
Sitting there quite satisfied and not wanting to appear rude
Said "I need to use the bathroom, is there one on either floor?"
First came silence, then laughter, "You'll find it outside the back door!"
It was night, pitch-black dark, there was psycho Bluebell's ghastly howl
Plus hosts of other nocturnal beasties surely on the prowl
Turning on the flashlight I made a beeline for the latrine
The visual and odors did not make an inviting scene.
Just like other things in life, subsequent "breaks" were not as bad
The fun on the farm the rest of the week left me very glad
I received hands-on experience in churning fresh butter
I milked cows twice daily by manipulating their udders
I rode the wide hay wagon pulled by the bright green farm tractor
I dropped hay bales, my allergies were the limiting factor,
Ending up with severe hay fever after only two days
The city boy jokes I had to endure left me in a daze!
Fifty years later I fondly reminisce about that week
My week on the farm, of which I now hardly find time to speak
There's joy in working a farm seeing the beauty of the land,
And the satisfaction that comes from working with one's own hands!
Yes, I am seeing more and more cars stalled
on the freeway. I am seeing shorter
tempers. I am seeing more faces gnarled
with stress. I hear more talking of border
crossings. Things are getting much more gruesome
out there. Our leaders understand vaguely
the social beasties grinning in fulsome
anticipation the bloodbath ready
to commence. In our closed world we don't know
just how we have been marked, we have been so
comfortable so long. Nightly, we throw
alarms, check perimeter for a foe
that may come from within our very midst.
Years of greed and the ship begins to list.
Had a beard since nineteen sixty-two
Hate to think what's underneath
Might even be a family of boat people
Maybe an old Christmas wreath
Heard that it's even quite possible
Animals have been known to survive
In the depth of my hairy countenance
Where they multiply and thrive
Haven't felt much movement lately
Though sometimes I feel a twinge
Perhaps whatever is living in there
May have gone on a drunken binge
Bottom line is I'll still have this beard
When they lower me into the ground
Don't dare shave it off for fear little beasties
Will leap out and scurry around
© Jack Ellison 2012
The gleaners undirt
these profane candy morphs
as they sift through the fields
in springs and falls.
Apiaceous, mud beige
burrowed beasties, them
bow legged, cowboy pulps;
others with flipped birds
sprung up from their hairy
carrot fists, bronxing to the sun.
You would think they
would be tough, those
mutter udders, those gangsta roots,
but they slice nicely into sticks,
lunch box size, far sweeter
than the common orange of their ilk,
far sweeter than their own
shrubby beards would veil.
Perhaps it’s the extra time
under muck that honeys them up,
dirt balls matriculating,
steeped in their element.
On weekends at the soup kitchen,
late May through long past Labor Day,
we pack the sweet gleaned under-chips
into sack lunches with smoked ham hero’s
and Frito's downtown behind the Kroger
where a sunny civil riot takes
place on Saturdays, and everyone
shows up out of their bag
to pick up the sticks, hungry stomachs,
all blood color-red in the gut
all ready to sit their hells
down…and eat.
Had a beard since nineteen sixty-two
Hate to think what's underneath
Might even be a family of boat people
Maybe an old Christmas wreath
Heard that it's even very possible
For animals to flourish and survive
In the depth of my hairy countenance
Where they multiply and thrive
But I haven't felt any movement lately
Though sometimes I do feel a twinge
Perhaps whatever is living in there
May have gone on a drunken binge
Bottom line is I'll still have this beard
When they lower me into the ground
Don't dare shave for fear little beasties
Will leap out and scurry around
© Jack Ellison 2015
Squinting into the lens plugged tube
At a droplet placed on a slide,
His focused eye beheld an unknown world.
A water bead became a circular sea
Teeming with writhing blobs of life,
With creatures he had never seen in dreams.
"Wee beasties!" he exclaimed in trembling awe
When his intrusion into microcosm
Magnified what he and we could know.
Zelda Twilight Wishes
(Credit to game creators of Twilight Princess)
As Link I become imprisoned in myself in Highrule land
Like a drug addicted monkey I take my task in hand
Midna, a creature from twilight world enchants me
I transform into a wolf as she rides upon my back and laughs
Two wild creatures set out to find their quests
I need to free Zelda from the hands of evil Ganondorf
Midna commands me, makes me attack a creature
Some creepy thing called Zant from her dark world
Later I’m turned back to human, somewhat wounded
Ample tools, arrays of gadgets can be found around the land
For destruction and for sport to vanquish evil on the spot
Rupees too and health are everywhere in treasure boxes
I have blisters on my hands and fingers from vanquishing beasties for the girls
Zelda, The Twilight Princess, happy with my accomplishments
Says; “Thank you Link!” “I wish you well.” Then puts me on her Christmas list
After all this fighting I’m getting twisted. I don’t even get a good-bye kiss
It was quite a surprise to us
when monsters came out of the night,
the beasts and bad guys of legends
who for so long gave us a fright.
We thought they lived on movie screens,
pulpy books, and local folklore,
until they came to prey on us,
and we all learned that they were much more.
The panic, at first, was intense,
folks were dying, it seemed surreal,
vampires, zombies, werewolves, ghosts,
and other such beasties were real.
They were as bad as legend said,
but we soon figured out one truth,
the ways to kill them in legend
really worked—we knew what to do.
The werewolves were the easiest,
you just bought some silver-tip rounds,
given all this country’s hunters
it took two years to gun them down.
As for ghosts, if you do not know,
ectoplasm is diffuse matter,
floating in air, it is easy prey
for the common vacuum cleaner.
Then dump it into a furnace,
and watch the ghostie burn away,
old houses everywhere were safe,
no more hauntings came into play.
Vampires could blend in the best,
of the monsters they killed the most,
UV flashlights or smeared garlic
was all it took to make them toast.
The zombies, good lord, they were slow,
and not all that hard to destroy,
army snipers would take head shots,
and attack choppers were deployed.
They’d shoot down with their miniguns,
guaranteed they’d catch zombie head,
since the undead liked to cluster,
an easy target for sprayed lead.
We even had a kaiju-type
dragged its lumbering form onshore,
just as big as a skyscraper,
a three-hundred foot carnivore.
We fired antiship missiles,
half-dozen of them did the trick,
set up some coastal air patrols
to take care of the beasts right quick.
In retrospect, it all makes sense,
after all, we are humankind,
we’ve been waring since we could walk,
countless weapons came from our mind.
We’ve killed sabertooths and smallpox,
run down real threats without pity,
killed tens of thousands in battle,
even nuked two of our cities.
What’s a werewolf compared to that?
What threat’s a vampire these days?
Those beasts should be afraid of us,
since we always find ways to slay.
Maybe we need better monsters,
a challenge for our evolved state,
something that can inspire fear,
the kind we can appreciate—
CONCLUDES IN PART II.