Best Mammoths Poems
[David Kavanagh’s recent poem, ‘Of Infinity’ so
astonished me in its similarity to my own pet
theory, that I was inspired to finish this poem
that I had been struggling to get right.]
***
All the ingredients there ever were
The atoms of everything ready to stir
All of the molecules in you and me
Have been in existence since prehistory
It’s sheer mathematics it simply must be
Our atoms exist in perpetuity
All that there was is all that there is
And all that there is is all there will be
One big Earthly spice rack, our ‘from’ and our ‘to’
Yesterday’s old becomes tomorrow’s new
A smidgen of this and a teaspoon of that
A pinch and a sprinkle made me… and my cat
And when I lay down for my very last time
New life will come using bits that were mine
Because when we die we return to the rack
To season the new with whatever they lack
Though space ships go up and there’s asteroid hits
Our Earth doesn’t gain or lose that many bits
So cave men and mammoths and tyrannosaurs
Had bits that are mine and bits that are yours
The atoms that make up the grasses and trees
The monkeys, the bats, the horses and bees
Might one day be water or silver or tin
Or even your great, great, great granddaughter’s gin
So whether we’re burnt or laid into the ground
We’ll be going spare when the time comes around
It may be our iron or maybe our salt
For all that we are does not become nought
We’re made from ingredients from way back when
And someday we’ll all be ingredients again
And someone that you may have lost in your past
Perhaps you’ll rejoin in the same blade of grass
Trudging through the snow, her cubs lag behind...oblivious
Haven't seen a seal for days, perhaps weeks
There are few ice-bergs left to hunt upon
Adrift in the ocean...think again
It's not a coincidence fossils of mammoths are being found more than ever
Soon you won't need your pithy pants...or snow shoes
Soon...someone might be sleeping in your bed
Pithy Pants 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Maureen McGreavy
2/14/2019
Heaven has not left
the long dead bone,
alert mouse whiskers,
still move the seven seas.
At the beginning and the end
there is nothing to come,
that has not come and is.
Mammoths stride
a thousand leagues,
over a single blade of grass.
One small sparrow -
an Ark for infinity.
All that is,
is but one single event.
The speckled hen
lays worlds within worlds.
The unbridled beaks of seagulls,
unlock a book,
of common prayer.
Eccentricism
Dick has a problem I don’t have.
He is a man.
As that I am female, Dick infringes through ignoring what is right.
He relates to homosexuality whims when I stand as a mist from the Garden of Eden.
Do you know that dick stated a psychological tenet that he was powerful because of *****?
That is when I had to relate because I had presumed that dick was *****.
However, he ventilates that dick is not the same as *****.
In this world, men are going through metamorphosis.
Their psychiatric preference is a man’s best friend.
In this place, women are suppressed.
Their psychological performance is best with a straight man.
Therein, many tendency is to become a lesbian.
This fundamentally means this world is twisted.
So insane that structured is trembling.
Through idiosyncrasies and sexual desires of man, minds are being manipulated.
But never mind all that, I is the person that wins against mammoths.
Insofar as none has, eccentricities are real.
Aerate the ideas of humankind.
Let loose the knowledge of origin since the time of God, if it is known.
Tell no lies.
Propaganda falsehoods until we acknowledge the truth.
This is what we do.
___________________________________________________
Penned on January 22, 2015!
Hunting wooly mammoths
Using flint sphears
Nearly getting killed by tusks
Fires cooking
Eating in our caves
Recording our lives
In the stone age !!
So simple
Sitting round-chilling by the fire
No worrying
No hurrying
Hanging with the fam
Got no time for the feds
Got no time for the teach
In the stone age !!
Love so deep
When he leaves
Hope so low
Fear so high
Yet love so deep
In the stone age !!!
IN THE DEMEANOR OF GOD
We deployed military to Afghanistan to fight terrorism, but nothing has curtailed.
Today we are up against ISIS in Islamic worlds whose cipher can be deciphered.
One of these old days not so long to come righteousness will transform.
There is poverty yet known of mind-sets and/or of hunger.
We as a world should be concerned with that that affects our home front.
We as the universe know that the influence of poverty as a mind-set henceforward a famine state.
But oh, one of these old days not long to come righteousness will unleash amidst mammoths.
In a Biblical presence, do we coexist?
We are the ideology and the historical eras.
As the sun rises in the East, our daily lives become the idiom.
We are diverse in dialect.
Our world is the Unites States of America.
The sun shines on the righteous.
Humanitarianism is our cause.
We want universal peace for one and for all.
But oh, these are the precarious times.
A righteous mien is the will of the Almighty God.
The philosophical tenet is that a man (or woman) that does not fix his (or her) own problems, God will help resolve them.
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Written April 10, 2016!
My pillar a dying log,
had stood firm through tireless tides.
My pillar a shrunken log,
her skin depicts all her life journeys.
My pillar shall break soon,
She promised not to break so soon.
With grace i had polish her frail skin,
Fed her all chance had granted me.
Her ground cracks and shall stable her no more,
If thee perish,curse the soil and its greedy mammoths.
Up here our homes are made of glossary silken strands
that perch on fluffy snow white clouds.
Above us are azure skies where the unicorns play
far out of human sight they gavotte and pivot.
Look and see the mammoths strolling through the clouds
and join old sages and poets learning from their words.
In the sky our walls are made of oblique silk
spun in many colours that flash and sparkle in sunlight.
Life here is peaceful with respect shown to all
so called goodies are valueless up here.
Instead the good things in life are free
as we live in our sky home in tranquillity.
1/26/2016
not for contest
VOLCANO
burning red mammoths
spear howl dust rock roar cannons
scramble mice and men
Once it was wrinkles that blemished me in your eyes:
Youthfulness alone met your taste in workers.
Now it's my humanness that you scorn
For the power and stamina of robots I lack.
Yet sneer not at my flesh and bones:
True, they make me weak in work
But from them comes my consumer's thirst
That keeps alive the world of work.
Hands by turns should work and shop--
That's the cycle that keeps shops afloat,
And it only endures while humans work.
Robots don't shop so their shops go bust:
Let them that sack us beware of this!
Today you're the force and we the fossil
But tomorrow we'll adapt and be the force.
In history's graveyard big bones abound:
Dinosaurs, mammoths, and mastodons--
Let big business beware!
We'll take the door that you show us
Out of your shop and into our homes
Where we worked for ages past.
Mark well where that door stands
For there your headstone too shall stand
When homes cluster and rise again
To be our place of bed and bread.
Thenceforth, home-branded goods alone we'll buy
And watch your robots go jobless!
A sweet day that'll be when tables turn
And present to you a thing to learn--
A thing about us whom you fired
From jobs where we were long mired
Unaware that in us dwelled power
To quit and our own world create.
I waited
Under the outspread foliage
Of the banana tree,
With ripening fruits dangling precariously,
Wondering,
With eyes set on the earth,
Wishing I understood
This everlasting madness.
To what end would man go,
To what end?
A mystery it remains,
Like the age old conundrum
Of the seniority between the hen and the egg,
Like the unfathomable depths of the bottomless pit...
Oh! Lamenting in unbridled grief,
Mother of all,
Seated on an ashen throne,
Wails poignantly,
While her children trade mighty fists,
Wetted by her tears,
Buoyed no less by her flashing darts
Of fierce reproof..
I, a mere bystander,
Watching, meditating, confused,
Lost, trying to understand what
Led to such fisticuffs
Between brothers who sucked on
The small obfuscated nipple
And rode the same burdened back..
Yes!
To what abysmal end?
What, hidden under the rigid crusts of the earth
Drives man to seek so zealously
To bury his fellow man
Six inches below
And shake his head
From side to side
Wearing rehearsed frowns,
Indifferent, obeying the laws
Of anarchy, and basking
In the prestige
Of ill advantage?
For in these matters,
Fasidically christened "the survival arts"
Men show sleight of hand,
Dexterity and mastery of the deleterious science
Of death...
And for his fellow, he is unapologetic..
Fallen, have you into the cesspool
And mucky wastes of nothingness,
You survived not,
And as such, were not fit to survive...
We, must hold our
Small heads in mad agony,
For shamelessly, we have
Trampled on the little men,
So dastardly disparaged
Till they shrunk,
Into tiny ants
Who suffer in silence
While the mammoths fight
For the trophy from Sheol..
I wondered....
Days passed,
Nights went by, sleep eluded me,
Nightmares sought out my deranged mind
And tormented me,
And I could not bear it any longer!
I searched the lengths and breadths of the earth
For answers, from men
wizened beyond my years,
But found them not...
I found only fools,
Tightly snuggled in their cosy territories
With mighty barricades
And tall barb-wired fences,
Throwing orgies...
For they had defeated themselves...
It was then, I slept...
This time, in the gentle
Stillness of the Caspian,
Wishing I was never born....
A baby gorilla's bedtime is a harmonic period when the bananas line up with little leaf rattles to softly croon to slumber the furry ball. Priceless is the process of pacification and pacifications are not prevalent in the pacific, the polar regions, nor do they play with piñatas in Paraguay. It is to be said that a tortoise shell footstool can rotate at great speeds do cast iron boots must be worn if placing one's feet upon the tapestry printed square form. The chime of lime is very very noisy but not as noisy as the incessant chatter and chuckling from the bowl of sugar cubes. Sugars state signalling shaped saying stuff silkily and silly too. But a mild mannered oxon could take a heifer to a ballroom but only if properly attired in a beach towel, sun glasses, three piece suit and a gown. Then an entrance can be made. With a thud. And a bellow. Brass bands made of cream donuts can entertain at this dance and the hall is quite packed with skimming skirts, scantily clad pea women, and the tidal spore has come dressed as a ringmaster but no whip for whips are for the underground stations and platforms of legs. Legality leaves legs lingering liberally. Akin to sprinkling a fine spray of salt across a plate of the towering vegetables. Piled high. Architectural really. Very mesmerising is the mist of a fine diner whose aroma lifts the air surrounding with a unjust uniquely identifiable stench. And stench drenched can be a wench, a bench but never a welk. For welk belong in tree houses and tree houses are not tables and not talking ash trays either. Ash trays do not modify a month of moon shaped mammoths. And a tree semi formed can bite so always walk very very very briskly when passing a thicket. Zoom then. Go on zoom. A zoom in a room. How rather entertaining and entertainment is equal to a climbing plant pot scaling a sky scraper. How great. Such feat with no feet. And how deserving of the medal at the Olympics of Oscar fish in an oceanographic weave of seafood cocktail with melon jus. Haha the wide mouthed octopi are singing gospel tunes to a small party of crabs. Ha the divinatory dogs diving definition digging dreams. Ha the musical mustard jar moving in time to the fish fork forte. Xxxxxx reciprocal z z z zzz. At ten loaves to forty seven slices of butter cake. Z z z z z z. 57294894907398%. Z
You are a mental giant but an emotional atavist.
Like the old cliche,
your forcefulness of personality hit me over the head
and you dragged me back to your dank, primordial mind cave,
By the hair of course.
And you also took me, consumed me and
made me bleed...
with my dark hair in your fists
your lips on my throat
all the while promising a
steady diet of wooly mammoths
a bear-skin bed
and the eternally-burning fire
on which we would toast teradactyl wings
and warm our dirty feet.
Only you knew all the while
you would eventually tire,
find another victim,
ban me from your cave
and toss me to
saber-toothed tigers,
having gotten exactly what you wanted.
Ignorant to the depths
of my unbounded devotion to you,
(what you once called my
candor and tenderness
with poetic grunts)
you are now doomed
to forever be concerned
only with your neanderthal needs
and your immature, primal
self.
My darling cro-magnon,
reflecting in the clarity of the sunshine and
inspired by the warmth of meat-scented breath on my face,
I have decided that
my priestess womb
will no longer be the petri dish
for your long overdue evolution.
Tuaoi stone air traffic controller
There is nothing new under the earth,
Or even under the water.
Glowing green fog landing crew,
Tuaoi stone, auto, aero, sings and moans,
The automatic, powered sorter,
20,000 years ago, during the ice age slaughter,
the poles did shift, Atlantis slipped,
under Atlantic waters,
{green grass in the frozen Mammoths}
{animals and whales flogged into caves}
a seer he spoke, from the stone, awoke,
“get to high ground” came the order,
“go to Egypt or Yucutan by boat,
or death will take your daughter!”
Tuaoi stone hums generates, alone,
Prismatic colours long and shorter,
Used for controlling aircraft drones, {Valixi}
Landing fields now under water
The tractor fog of green, magog,
Just one colour used of many,
The white light sheen, of the stone unseen,
Controls the path of any!!!
So venture not down Bermuda’s slot,
Ole stone is still on duty,
Do have a care, or you can share,
The underwater beauty,
Or bloody not :}-
Don Johnson
Two super powers then…
Valixi = Alantean Aircraft 20,000 bc
Vimana = Indian Aircraft mercury fueled 20,000 bc
The Indians even wrote of the repair manuals….
Mars Awaits
Twenty thousand years before our time-line,
Rad Arrigo would see it through,
Rad Arrigo of the bronze wing warrior sign,
Martain Aeronautic too,
Looked and saw the comet coming,
Spluttering on the horizon due,
To impact the northern hemisphere, coming,
Ever coming, coming, coming,
Bugger all what he could do,
Guided missiles, Rimfire rockets
Failed the deflecting, hull-a-baloo,
becoming deadly, as in a nightmare,
kill this world it came to do,
death of planet nothing new,
bugger all that he could do?
Anti-Grav the ship was ready,
Inter-stellar pure-bred lines its true ,
Partenered with the Bo-Bo-Freddy,
Shirt-lifter, dirt-track-rider too,
Ladies please come into view,
Sent to search for a new planet,
Save the race survivors few,
Came to Terra old Lemuria,
Fore the continents were split in two,
Ricochet of comet was a slamming,
poor old bloody earth, in waves,
Tidal waves, tsunamis growing,
Sharks and animals washed into caves,
thousands was a death, a knowing,
Pole-shift poor old Mammoths knew
Sucking on the grass a growing,
Snap frozen drowned in artic dew,
Poor ole bloody Mammoth blue,
Mars got shattered by the comet,
Water, air, went into space,
Three kilometers bloody deep, to vomit
was gouged out of place,
gone is planet interface,
For the Martains it’s just too late,
Pyramids there still do await,
For the man, some stellar Gromit,
Mars is waiting on your fate,
So pull on your travel-bonnet,
Coming, New Universal Empire state.
Don Johnson
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hsVNasFdk6g
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WmN_nZPoj88