Long Organism Poems
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A Rift in Time
By Elton Camp
Henry Higgins, B.A., M.A. Ph.D., graduate in physics from the Massachusetts Institution of Technology, is missing. Born August 8, 1950, he was thought of as a genius by some, but as a crackpot by others. Revolutionary theories on the possibility of time travel that he presented at scientific gatherings received a mixture of applause and ridicule. None of his articles have seen publication in peer-reviewed journals.
How his machine works is of a technical nature, thus certain to be of insignificant interest to the readers of this account. Suffice it to say that it works very well. Henry had seen his device disappear and reappear multiple times after being programmed to slide both forward and backward in time.
Finally came the day to test it in person. Surprisingly athletic for a man of his years, Henry strapped himself into place before the control panel, adjusted his eyeglasses and pulled a protective helmet over his thick, gray hair. He set the chronometer to early August of 2040 to determine if he was still living at that advanced age and what honors had been accorded him by the scientific community.
With a barely-discernable jerk, the time machine began its slide into the future, the red cancel button prominently alongside the digital display of the date. The world outside the device became a blur and Henry heard only a low hum from the engine. All seemed to be well as the years rolled by on the chronometer. At first, that is.
Henry noted with surprise the muscle atrophy and skin changes associated with extreme age. A slight looseness of his helmet caused him to discover that he was now as bald as his father had been in his late eighties. Henry’s eyeglasses no longer allowed him to read the control panel clearly. The truth hit him--he was aging along with the passing years. The inanimate time machine had shown no such effect, but it was different with a biological organism. He desperately punched the cancel button, realizing that, if his future self was not still living, his death was impending.
To his relief, the chronometer slowed and stopped. Without input from Henry, the time device began to move backward in time, slowly at first, and then at a brisk clip. By the time the read-out showed Henry’s present, his physical deterioration had been reversed and all was as before.
He was born with a bushy round follicle-free head
and walks with two legs, because
he is a Neanderthal(1) mutant,
for he is a mutational product,
he is an android(2) not found in the evolutionary tree,
and that’s why he was so sad; he began to roam the surface
of the earth, he climbed up the mountains, crossed the rivers
and traveled over the expansion of fields beyond the horizon;
to soothe the sorrow of being alien
he labored to find another android similar to him;
and if he finds one, he is forced to lay her down on the ground
and sow the seeds to establish a new genealogical table;
the seeds grown to Hominidae.(3)
As time goes by his hair on his head became thinner
because the roots of his hair decayed from no follicle
and at last, he became bald;
each time a sun-ray reflects on his head
his anguish grows in the valley of misery he is trapped in
and leading his poor life. He escapes from the valley and crawls
into a cave(4) peculiar from all the other caves he’d seen so far,
and he fixed a flag.
As the wind rises the flag streams,
when the flag flutters the sky roars to pierce the ears;
then the sky falls to the ground from a gap between
the roars gushing out ashes and fires. The fire heats
to burn the stones lying here and there by the water’s edge.
When sky, earth, fire and the stones intermingled in one
it tortures the Neanderthal with the red-hot iron of death,
then, *****Sapience survived from breathing the oxygen
that Neanderthal left behind; and as day grows taller and taller
*****Sapience finds the way to preserve oxygen;
thereupon, Hominidae mixes this excess oxygen to produce
black powder with the ratio of 10KNO3 + 3S + 8C,
and stuff it into a bamboo-tube;
tomorrow therefore explodes, time stops,
the sea swallows the earth. As things come this far,
though there may be worse things waiting in the future,
the crippled time, comes with quick steps winding a malfunctioning clock.
NOTE: 1. *****Neanderthalensis and *****Sapience are different *****species, therefore, though *****Sapience Sapience is not a mutated species, but just so regarded in this poem.. 2. Android: in this poem this phrase is synonymous to synthetic organism rather than electro/mechanical robot. 3. Hominidae: this term is used as existing modern Human. 4. Francis Bacon, Idra Specus.
Self quarantined misanthrope pitched into purgatory wham!
Ably cane resign eternal damnation (mine)
courtesy devil specially engraved telegram
prestidigitation found me vanishing shazam,
without a trace I disappeared in thin air voila
Earthly travails atop horns of dilemma ram
into me buttucks pitching yours truly ma'am
hoisted by my own petard sheepishly wool
ewe (red dully) bull heave human bug eyed
recalcitrant specimen (me) nonetheless lamb
basted skewered (think shish kabob) log jam
succinctly described helplessness to preserve
ultimately repurposed into green eggs and ham
harmless recluse no more valuable than flotsam.
Grant simple wish to withdraw into hermitage
coronavirus (COVID-19) just desserts we wage
us *****sapiens on trial across web world stage
severely misappropriating Earthly resources rage
understandable Gaia she pointedly reminds adage
inescapable comeuppance whereby our civilization
written off as atrocious, hellacious, malicious, page
poisonous primates essentially, dismally, yes clearly
bollixed, failed, leveraged, & tortured planet I gauge
hell in a handbasket ironic tragicomic fate wise sage
of yesteryear did prognosticate now we scurry hither
and yon, to and fro Smashing Pumpkins immortalize
metaphor likened each one of us as rat locked in cage
bajillion eons ago once upon a time our noble savage
ancestors levels playing field now new bacteriophage
relentlessly pits twenty first century civilization doles
microscopic organism (battling unseen enemy) voyage
around sun fraught tooth and nail powder milk biscuits
a Prairie Home Companion ruse buzzfeeding courage
for shy people (yours truly) communicating message,
albeit urgent to revamp paradigm to live social - nsync
with eco friendly coda allowing, enabling, & providing
liberty and justice for all living (colorful) things hostage
at mercy of self proclaimed superior beasts above average
with intelligence, yet rendering oblate spheroid garbage.
No major inconvenience incapacitates rather humdrum
bard (rarely bored), I wanna pitch headlong into scrum
no need to scream and shout, cuz I speak softly to mum
(Mother Earth) reassuring, she inevitably bests hoodlum
standing arrogant, boastful, deceitful comfortably numb
oblivious when day of reckoning delivers offal maelstrom.
This is Africa.
Where people are being judge by their past,
And our hearts are painted with black.
Youths are cuddled up in early relationship,
And their lives are like the speed of an airship.
Parents are not respected anymore,
And advices are ignore from the sun's core.
This is Africa.
Where corruption is the order of the day,
and embezzlement of public funds is like the ocean's wave.
Politicians believe in solipsism,
and their avidity for power have made them vile organism.
Children are being raped and murdered in every corner of the street.
Education site has been a place of wealth seeking.
This is Africa.
Where we have been strangulated by high cost of living,
and those who suffocate us are offered thanksgiving.
Health sectors are poor,
and illnesses on our continent are dressed up in strong armour.
Our rights are infringed by evil perpetrators,
and our hearts are broken by these penetrators.
This is Africa.
Where the less privilege are fed with grieves and pains,
And government officials are out there popping champagne.
Scholarships are given based on mutual affiliation,
And scholars are offered abnegation.
Jobs are being given base on political affiliation and party sentiment,
And those who are qualified are left with predicament.
This is Africa.
Where people are being murdered for ritualistic purposes,
And the police are their accomplices.
People worship god that doesn't speak nor move,
and the real God has been disprove.
Politicians only come around as election time draw closer,
and after election their family members are the ones on their roster.
This is Africa.
Where Politicians don't have time for the abnegated masses,
and we are referred to as asses.
Brutal men abandon their children for no reason,
and mothers are left in bleak season.
Single parents strive hard to send their kids to school
And Those who speak the truth are rejected and considered fools.
This is Africa.
Where Politicians insult each other like kids, and citizens are left with dark moments they can't face.
Those who exploit our resources
and give us hot flames are hail as King,
And we reject and curse those considered our kin.
Westerners feed us with arm to annihilate our own kind,
and envy is what we incline in our minds.
Family is a macro organism
We're all interconnected
We're all a piece of the puzzle
The mosaic
We are the pattern
We create order in our minds as well as disorder
We share our memories and love
We create new webs of association
We create the circles and cycles of our life
We bond like molecules to one another
We bridge gaps and create new pathways to each other
We create new circuits of love each day
We are a factory, we all labor together
We are the think tanks, we bridge ideas together
We borrow words and songs from others
We create our own inspiration, we create what our minds think about
We dream, we love, we feel, we are
We live to create a better tomorrow
A better us
We try to top our last move, our last performance
We challenge who we once were
We look to the future, working to get there in the present time
We search for meaningful conversation, a meaningful life
We create this meaning with our actions
How loud do our actions speak amongst our silence
Will the words come when we need them?
Will we say what we need to say?
or will silence take over?
Will we emerge like when we reach the end?
Where will our journey take us?
An unanswered question left for a later time
What new questions will we ask?
What new answers will we find?
What will be gained? Learned?
How will it transform us? What will we become?
What new shape will we take?
What will our renewed minds and hearts look like?
What will it feel like?
Will there be a sense of relief when we discover who we are meant to be?
Will it be obvious?
When we know we ran as far as we could?
When we pushed harder than we ever though possible?
When we've said so much, there's nothing left to say
When we're all out of ideas
In awe of what is, in awe of what is and can be
When hope speaks its spontaneous voice in our ears, minds, souls, and hearts
Will we recognize it when it comes and let its voice be heard
Its calling out to us, just follow where it leads
The voice is getting louder gradually and then suddenly
Like a thumping heart beat
Decipher what the voice says, how it speaks to us
What we're supposed to understand
Form:
Upon the first date (decades ago) with the gal,
whose troth aye did pledge allegiance to wed
we agreed to dine at an ex-mex eatery
in north Wales, Pennsylvania, where angels feared to tread
carefully scrutinizing bon appétit the menu selection,
a touch of Latin lick QED
all American version sans south of the border cuisine –
Quod Erat Demonstrand – translations spit out in rapid fire Hispanic
by a beady eyed inked kid named Ned
whose couture favored a punkish style
with spiked gelled green hair, piercings galore and
necklace with a genetically modified sizable
entombed glass encased amber ked
which beastly fully intact organism with a miniature grisly bear like head
momentarily hypnotizing me tell nudged out of trance sans this egghead
who make a selection by randomly
landing finger on an item feigning to be well bred
unbeknownst to the arbitrary choice this senior made
within an ample number of mouthfuls
of beans and rice that quelled hunger pangs
mine lower gastrointestinal tract,
felt a bubbling sensation played
though impropriety struggled with gaseous mounting perturbations,
what promised to be hot malodorous, would induce an air raid
from this “wind bag”, whose saving grace divine, when wallet of suede
discover herd visa vis tubby devoid of cash, thus and excuse to beat the tirade
of volcanic eruption found me bolting
out the restaurant door fortunately not waylaid
and madly dashing (like some comet fiery dancer)
performing a cheeky number hopping on one foot than the other –
since forceful blast triggered kidneys to be tapped, thus prancer
two step extemporaneously incorporated while await the ATM to disburse cash
legal tender coveted akin to Cupid sprinkling spell of romancer
while expulsion of noxious fumes from thine sphincter from this hob er dasher
brought relief as aye nonchalantly strolled inside
the cozy diner and slipped into me seat
disinclined to relate vents to future spouse,
the bodily aeration and stream of urine from me magic flute
which amazingly synchronized with the Maximus glute
from consuming food triggering tushy to toot.
Spring equinox arrived March 20th, 2021 at 5:37 AM
No burlesque across the globe
upstages mother nature's emergent style
soundlessly donning and trumpeting
resplendent metaphorical pregnant Gaia,
whose all encompassing bulging robe
magnificently, albeit modestly evinces
matronly dame parading and sauntering,
she intimates readiness to give birth
regarding multitudinous flora and fauna,
whereby swath groundswell of color
and panoply of sound bursts forth.
A symphony with terrestrial
ecological community, which life forms abound
via natural laboratory qua nature,
especially at seasonal dawn of spring tide,
where multifarious existence can be found
carving out a figurative zoological niche
in a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds galore
idyllic melodic musical sound
artist palette of rainbow blended sights
assuage auditory and
visual sense pleasures respectively.
No gofundme donation required-
unless ye clamor to proffer expense
(toward fame and fortune
concerning one garden variety
long haired pencil necked geek
to regale sensational experience,
but before further lines get read
please be mindful
to take lock, stock, and barrel
of mine existential sponsor,
thus a brief plugged statement to
??? ???????? ???????? ????? ??0?????0? ?0? ????.
Now back to regularly scheduled program
trying to entrance ye dear reader
incorporating titanic and tectonic processes,
(albeit all natural wonders)
constituting eight ways
to build strong bodies
bred courtesy punctuated equilibrium
nudging advantages to outvie
one living thing
versus another organism.
Winter of our (collective) discontent
alleviated courtesy pagan earth goddesses
prestidigitation delivering cathartic holistic
and poetic botanical balms,
which salve (age long in the tooth)
psychological wounds.
Show stopping stunning performance
stills lovers embrace
long anticipating nonpareil experience,
nevertheless straining credulity
of visual and aural senses,
where collective awed pinterests
silences onlookers evoking
masterpiece rendered still life
among webbed plant and animal species.
Off the train I hit the streets
and start laughing. This is ridiculous,
incomprehensible. How can innumerable bipeds
have individual inner lives. Why are they doing
what they’re doing? I have no answer
New York City but to also go about my business
in this case prepare for surgery, survival.
But why survive with so many exact replicas
to replace me? A swarm of ants or hive of bees,
social organisms they’re called, climbing
over each other, avoiding bumping and amazingly
making way, anticipating the sudden turns
and straight paths of others, strangers but brothers,
sisters incubating, the cells of a small
organ, nodes of a single semi-conscious organism.
The concept of a higher power that cares
for me is also risible yet how else
can I explain the surgeon and his team,
robots and magnetic resonance imaging machines,
all primed and trained to save my life.
They are not particularly interested in what
I do with my time. I am immediately
in love with the Irish brogue of the head nurse,
the Indian skin of the physician’s assistant.
The long extraordinarily thin
fingers of the famous surgeon. All
mine to savor (and the other cancer patients).
Back on the streets, rush to the train.
So many women to choose from! One
in fishnet stockings stands out, tall
calm, still, graceful. No cell, no hair, no hurry.
Yesterday’s suicidal thoughts: the mind
is a clever servant, insufferable master. Therefore,
meditate on this: absolute need, dependence on the Other.
I still like Hombre, The Shootist and Ulzana’s Raid
but realize those dead heroes
were subordinate to society: the gun manufacturers who armed them.
Thus, I go for cancer tests, accepting, not predicting results.
Hero accepting help.
A torrential rain following five days of flooding,
tornadoes out west busting up wooden towns
all because too many of us are hoarding plastic, herding electrons.
None of us know how it will end, what the outcome will be
(of our surgery). The best that can be said is
Don’t forget to breathe. And you might
as well believe in that higher power.
'Play back that sound',she explained with bitterness,
'What's wrong?',I questioned,
I found out that she was severally harrassed at a conference,
"He won't be entertained by any room with his proposal",as she envisioned,
Just sitting on the bed,I jinggled overtone,
Did questioned me for such unpleasant tone,
But my answer comes unfold,
Making her look silly,I broke into laughter,
'So you're happy of yourself not being caring',
she kept on exclaiming my name aswell,
"......alright,please let me know frankly for now if I'm not your class girl,
"After all,I can guess you've gotten a new lover in there",
On aboard,I felt pictures of funny and amusing statement as she said,
Being the focal point,I replied as such to her,
"Kindly make me proud beautiful lady as the day goes by,
...only on the goal of accepting those proposals from that beloved guy" ,
'Thanks to God we're no more as lovers',that was her voice,
"....be in search of me never from anyone now onwards",
she added such a subtle context,
Ever since we met as friends was there a moment I said to her about a precept,
"My love for you is of God's unconditional love,
Don't set on sexual segregation",
Thoughtfully,diligence wasn't tactfully highlighted by her intention,
Beneath the bowl's cover,she grabbed that portion as merely,
In as much as she went ahead throwing jabs at me,
A vital integration against her module of thinking set in,
But her promiscuous attitude never scored her sence of dignity,
Proving my kind,made her go bananas,
"Fool,stupid guy......you!"
Vomited out all these to me with contempt,
Preventing alienation and imperialism,
I gave her a dose of self repent,
'Don't be as a Muppet organism',
Adding this tuned her into a groaning lion,
As time went on from the tick of grumble,
Shame unto you dearly,
....huuuu...our love is inseperable',
she said with densely,
Putting on a tortured garment,
I became less feisty before a firmament,
Grooving within this scope,
she spotted my vibes but never killed a coach,
It was all a dream!
What If Destiny...
Deeded Mine Singular Default Mode To...
Communicate (temporarily,
strictly and hypothetically)
merely allowing me to burble
essentially rendering, limiting,
and fixing me tubby nonverbal,
where frustration ensued -
inducing passivity, asper myself
shrugging shoulders in resignation
coon sitter ring thy fate
nsync with that of a gerbil?
Thus codifying, con
fining, and consigning
stricture to a sorry lot
perhaps finding me
envying fun
Gus of ergot,
which organism at least participates
in a pro active life cycle,
though one may say,
said organism doth rot.
Now...all Joe King aside,
an attempt will be made tried
though daunted to cogitate beside
Ritch ching deep inside
and remain on - ride
ding the straight and true
so please dont chide
restricting me to bide
with guise of seriousness,
when aye decide
did to complete on
par tragedy thalidomide
wrought, yet this poem, though belied
and bedeviled pondering
how Yukon not induce tongue re:
totally tubularly restrained,
sans tubby unable to talk
plus afflicted with autism,
hence guide
did through extreme effort
pretending, thus
to feign being denied
critical skill to chat
with a snap allied
(NOT with van knit tee),
but dead seriousness try
ying with futility hypothetically
impossible to imagine tubby
accursed without means to speak
compounded by autism,
an immeasurable frustration
must mount inside,
viz unfortunate behavioral demeanor,
nonetheless I cried
inside when the limp deceased body of
six year old
Maddox Ritch – already died,
drowned mainly supposedly,
when dashing ahead,
he didst play hide
with his father (Ian Ritch),
while the special needs child
(unknowingly) both spent
final hours together
bonding at Rankin
Lake Park in Gastonia
within North Carolina.