Long Specimens Poems
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The human being
(also referred throughout history
as 'long pig' and 'hairless goat'
in the case of younger specimens)
Observing the anatomy and skeleton,
one can see that the human animal
after death young tender meat.
The large central pelvis and broad shoulder blades
also interfere with achieving perfect cuts.
There are advantages to this however,
especially due to the fact that the specimen girl
will weigh between 100-200 pounds,
easily manipulated by one man with proper leverage.
Controlled environments like institutions or jails before.
Health and diet to outward appearances maintained.
Humans are not very kind to the dead here it is why you are.
You are an unknown to me
thus subject to an enormous range of diseases,
infections, chemical imbalances,
and poisonous bad habits, all typically decreasing with age.
I personally prefer calm firm caucasian females
in their early teens.
These are 'ripe'.
But the saw varies from cut to cut,
and again there it is a very large herd to choose from.
The M.E.)
Medical Examiner will need a fairly large room and sufficient space
in which to work (an interior location is suggested)
and a large table for a butcher's block.
A central overhead support will need to be chosen
or installed ahead of time to hang the young body from.
Large tubs or barrels for blood
and waste trimmings should be convenient,
and a water source close by.
Most of the work can be done with a few simple tools.
Sharp, clean short and long bladed knives,
a cleaver or hatchet, and a hacksaw and ribspreaders.
Body Preparation requires plenty of water.
This helps flush the system,
purging stored toxins and bodily wastes,
as well as making bleeding and cleaning easier.
This one I will call Jane doe 007
was found at a bar stunned into insensitivity.
Sharp unexpected blows to the head put her at rest
quite is best, tranquilizers being recommended
If this is not possible without exciting the body
and causing a longer struggle (which then pumps
a greater volume of blood
and secretions such as adrenaline throughout the body
A single bullet through the middle of the forehead
exiting the back of the skull here did nice.
For what ever reason her companion is here right beside her.
Is is called murder suicide I think it is two suicides.
Whom ever goes last gets the cellophane wrap.
November first two thousand nineteen...
abuzz with Autumnal thrum
Divine myriad biota amidst
heavenly Lily of the valley
(Convallaria majalis),
he didst imaginatively greet
Edenic heavenly terra
incognita immeasurably sweet
nature's ensemble proffering
Gaia's quintessential orchestration
resplendent sensational treat
natural splendour regaling,
this fellow wayfarer
happenstance gifted autochthonous peoples
espied proud specimens unobtrusive
planted armada, viz sleek bodies fleet,
of foot while me accidentally
risking, schlepping, traipsing... offbeat
winessed unschooled tribe,
yet verily synchronized,
primed, muscled... athlete
their soundless rhythmic swiftly tailored
flit to and fro upon poetic
unshod calloused feet
carefully, gingerly, lightly...
I shod dully tread nsync
toward drumlins upbeat
mouthing, kneading, imbibing... glorious
ebullient choral unadulterated feat
extemporaneously kickstarting crisp and neat
pow hour full rhythm across
analogous macroscopic excellent spreadsheet
inducing their sonorous symphonic
roundelay unfamiliar tweet,
whereby flora and fauna future meal to eat
oblivious regarding mine seat
dated existence, which quiescent aesthete,
yours truly basked,
froliced, luxuriated... complete
as once innocent hymnals kindled atrocity
this observer, spectator aghast white as sheet,
how civilization's machinations didst deplete
terrestrial firmament within one fell stroke
eradicated once pristine unbroken
promises chiseled to cheat
rightful owners expansive swath
over yonder til ocean and land did meet
Europeans scoured seas one after another
lumbering bulwarked fleet
exhausting resources while simultaneous
mowing down aborigines
grotesquely analogous harvesting wheat
indiscriminate deliberate genocide
decimating indigenous tribes beat
defenseless against microbial
weapons of mass destruction,
thus only within third blind eye
courtesy invisible paleface with tenderfeet
strictly envisioned Perkiomen Valley
once abundantly populated
with ample game during cold and/or heat
paradise unbroken stretched hinterland,
where place names mock to pay hollow tribute,
where native peoples no longer replete
vinyl city amidst amidst graveyard
lovely bones turned to dust
paved over by mainstreet.
Sarcomas hatch like caviar
in St. Jude chemo-fire inversions,
where leviathans lay magnetars
to suck the blood of
virgins.
Their celestial suckers nurse their mothers
through quantum-dot tunnels, converging
what little life force
might milk
metastatic roots while purging,
and scute steroids discarding the hair
that ganoid scales like
sturgeon
merging baby dragon parts there
in alternative medicine oceans.
Tumors transcend and
succor
is owed unknown futile fealty
to infant deities who must atone
for immature keepsakes in realty.
Closure
pawns its symbiote spawn upon
weapons in-waiting to wormhole the realms.
Women weep oxytocin. Tissues
wyvern at the hel-
minthe transcriptase cocytus kiln
celling tussin-flavored scolex helix;
hydras caduce their chimera-filmed,
reptile-elm, viral
fetus.
Ignis fatuus reflective glasses
wither the pyrrhic ghostly gasses.
Parapsychic worms
poison
parents’ life-projected choices.
Jacobs slither the lamprey ladders.
Jihadists excise
their end-
ocrine matters... glazing the X,
lambs praise their ossifying father’s gaze.
Depucelation
contracts
‘an eye for an eye’: hexacanth.
The oncospheric galaxies equate;
retroviridae-cestodes celebrate
swapping
meat of child for theft of fare
on trans-dimensional photonic pairs,
where cycles continue out there, memes
extremophiled.
August is ending with a heat that gives no mercy to the land or man
so intense that the air swelters off the river into the tree tops,
looking ahead, its as if we are passing through the gossamer of summer's spector,
Private Shanon has been missing for six days
although, we believe he is lost, not captured or deserted
only God knows where his feet have taken him,
evidence along the riverbank indicates that he is alive and pursuing us
perhaps mistaken and disoriented, thinking that we are further up river,
Old Dorion is seeking him now like a clever wolf,
Shanon was seperated from me while stalking a coyote
a most mischievous animal that is entirely foriegn to us except in prank,
a bottle of whiskey goes to the first man who can lay a coyote down,
yesterday half of the expedition went hunting the prarie dog
a critter more cunning than a cat and jumpy as a log spark,
after several hours of scrambling around like lunatics
Private Sheilds has finally caught one with pork bait and a twig basket
the poor rascal squieks like a cheap violin,
eventually I will send it to Washington with other novel specimens,
President Jefferson and the Philosophical Society will be good guardians,
the men and I have been refreshing ourselves on the jewels of soil
the wild grapes are so succulent that the Italians would believe
Bacchus himself had seeded this earth with a secret serum
and the plum groves cuddled in the most unadulterated coves
invite the mind into Eden's shadow,
on this journey we have observed migrations of pigeons
that have rivaled the stretch of storm clouds,
crowds of squirrels so numerous they have canvassed the ground with a sea of fur,
and now the mighty, mythical buffalo walks before us
a legend amongst beasts, monstrous in girth
with hooves that peel the Plains and horns shaped by vengeance,
as they graze we seize the prize of their offering with thanks in our aim,
not having horses strategic concealment is critical, they are reknown for retaliation,
we dropped seven of them in a great pandemonium of panic
the gun smoke, field dust and perspiration meld into a fragrance of sacrifice,
our sustenance is secured, their lives feed our future,
J.A.B.
he waived cross examination
innovation had suffered a sucking head wound
and the Mossad was after my ass
a post Ragnarok picnic with a fire on the ice
hot enough to fry a penguin steak
code breakers grab your lapiz lazuli
it's the Florentine Colonnade Dancers
and gravy covers the spuds
the beaten man fears to drink his fill
swallowwed the shiny faucet handle
in a messy near suicide by drowning
tried to live on borrowed time
and die a meat eating hero with a following
but it was actually an oatmeal world
a banquet of boneless chicken
and seven times seven bags of Cheetos
we are all either the ruling class
doinking things up for generations to come
or clowns in the cross hairs
because they are still here aren't they
megalomania may well be a survival mechanism
where the retarded Adonises are grown
with a suspected core of infinite malice
the gatekeeper only wants to know your symptoms
my life was a waste of time I replied
your capacity for insolence will do you no harm
came the two replies to my reply
within minutes of each other
words are contours as well as baskets
I screamed turning up the gain
with them one can explore the human psyche
like monkeys in a cage
I sang because it's the smart thing to do
since I never learned to spell i-m-p-e-r-i-a-l
and as I rambled on and zoomed in
the teddy bear assassins
said thank you one and all and everything
you will know only briefly why you have to die
momentarily perplexed in demonic ecstasy
I grouted my stones with a la la la
and the streets filled with earthquake rubble
a vast line of gate crashers in waiting
dinner forks ready bye m'bye me eatum
stuff that down your silk shorts
and went to my final exit from the maze
it was the best he could honestly do
even when they upside us like meth hookers
up one side and down the aether
he dodged the repo man one more time
with the compass of compassion
while trying not to be a morale problem
the specimens in my cognitive laboratory
confide and call it symphony
yet in the end the neurons
played a starring role
trying to stir from the trance
he knew the risk
but had a mouth to feed
Swath of pristine tractless snow white landscape...
tell tale sign where
winter storm Demi left her mark.
Beautiful and bountiful visual scene
(seldom seen around
tri-state geographic area
for quite a few years,
where temperate global warming
spelled unseasonably warm winters)
trumps the inauguration
for breathtaking view.
Immaculate conception birthed
awesome aesthetic spectacular
blinding heavenly creation.
I feel humbled
as an infinitesimal know nothing
wrought into existence
courtesy billions of years
evolutionary fits and starts,
and will exit stage door left
barely impacting the cosmic schema.
Memories accumulated across
six plus decades astride oblate spheroid
upon sixty plus shades of gray matter
sights and sounds transiently,
yet indelible impressions lasted a lifetime
eventually taken to the grave,
(or rather more eco-friendly crematorium),
which lovely bones once reduced to ashes
will leave nary a trace videre licet,
where joys and sorrows
dwelt within mine temple mount
unbeknownst to humanity
unless one attests to spiritus mundi
housing each and every personal record
that livingsocial (and more often
as an egalitarian, latitudinarian, proletarian,
solitudinarian, and unitarian) did emboss,
though uneventful existence,
would find any incorporeal passerby to gloss
tittering at reputation as spindleshanks
no doubt resulting
where chromosomes and genes
of interspecie breeding did intercross,
yet leaving some lucky *****sapiens
descendents of simian forebears
with eye catching physical characteristics
cases in point Heidi Kloss
or the waifish
former supermodel Kate Moss
testimony that either the former
or latter pleasing specimens
fortified with raw bits,
(and maybe even smattering
Norwegian bachelor farmers
big strapping men's bloodline
rumored heifer and angus outcross),
whose claim to eternal fame popularized,
and brought them renown fame
linkedin to "aphrodisiac hidden oomph"
of powder milk biscuits) sic erat scriptum.
Between us there is only place for tears and sighs
I’m right you wrong
I can’t stand that
I can’t stand this
I’m the queen
I'm superior
I'm the star
I’m the sun
I'm perfect
I'm better
I want
I need
I’m it
I....
I....
I...
All the sudden our world is full of "i"s
The u in us is now just two disjointed "i"s
All is fading, so is it worth it to keep the ties
When the love is long gone from each other eyes
I’m jealous of the us who used to touch the skies
Flying free, careless and happy like butterflies
Just two souls that didn’t care about the why's
Focusing on creating a world free of lies.
Now all the beauty is replaced by hidden guise.
That pride and prejudgments have jeopardize.
The us that once Inspired other’s envies, now agonize
and we’ve just became two specimens that others analyze.
I hate the "i" that refuses to understand the ultimate demise
the “I” that keeps hoping and begging for a last reprise
Blinded by a love that will no longer compromise
too afraid to see IT was something “I” fictionalize
I loathe the stubborn “i” that keeps you paralyze
The biases that push you to always scrutinize
The purest soul tendered with no disguise
The “i” in you that no longer sympathize
I’m afraid of the "i” who’s ready to finalize
Of all the voices that pushes me to soliloquize
Screaming, yelling, and telling me to finally realize
It was just make believe, one soul “i” over romanticize
No need playing the blame games or trying to ostracize
There’s always later, maybe time will help it stabilize
There is always a lifetime to try until tomorrow dies
Until there is no time and nothing else to revitalize
You....
You....
You...
You’re it
You need
You want
You’re better
You’re perfect
You’re the sun
You’re the star
You’re superior
You’re the queen
You can’t stand this
You can’t stand that
You’re right I’m wrong
Does it matter if at the end we are saying our goodbyes.
POINTS OF VIEW
Took kids for fresh air to zoo and laughed - are we or they behind bars?
Monkeys studying a parade of human specimens for their amusement:
Point of view was a novelty for kids -
Their cage locks were welded tight.
Stone walls and iron bars do a prison make
If our minds are the rigid stone and bars.
Can monkeys fly? Do fish walk?
Perhaps, I said. The kids laughed and then took photos
Everyone laughed and denied their own photo - That’s not me!
Of course it’s not. A two-dimension static image of a three-dimension dynamic person.
The camera makes monkeys out of us.
Cameras always lie...as a quoted scripture exerpt mayseem toprove anything.
You can’t expect to understand a stream from a single stone pebble;
You’ve got to see the whole flow and ebb for a truer picture.
Let go of expectations. Expect nothing. But always hope for everything.
We stopped at the ice-cream vendor.
An optimistic realist expects nothing and is never disappointed -
Expect nothing. Not even the unexpected.
Your mind full of stones will always bar progress of spirit.
Be empty of preconceived notions. New viewpoints are essential.
With no fresh air, no winged ideas, no wind of change, comes
Mildewed destruction of your spirit’s health. Poison to your system.
Be the deep-flowing fresh stream, washing limitless pebbles :
And if you get out of your depth, kids, then
Don’t fail to come crying to me.
...............................................................................................................
Written 1 July 2013 for Debbie Guzzi’s contest REFERENTIAL
Exerpts used are from CLOSER by Chris Aechtner
“caged snapshots of mildewed expectations,....on wings of letting go..”
Faraway Footsteps
How present
This past
Called memory
Hollow sole dragging
Hobnail boots
Caked with crud
Mud
And oil
Atop the landing
"Drop them greasy clothes"
Came the sometimes loving voice
The sometimes malevolent voice
But always his wife's warning
My mother's caring way
So many years past
When linoleum's impoverished sound
Is so remembered
Stepping from stove to table
Her laboring hands
Hefting the pressure cooker
Laden with steam softened cracked wheat
Barely eatable
That day's nourishment
Weighing upon
Forever toiling legs
Cushioned by sheepskin slippers
Whispering their shuffled prayer
I care
Generously ladled
Chew-your-brain-loose grains
Fit for health
Unfit for a kid
Layered my stomach
Fortified my heart
Prepped me abler
To gather reverie
So dear
Then
There was the sound
So ethereal
Heavenly I was told
Of bare feet
Curling the once-a-day-vacuumed
Pride and joy carpet of sage green wool
Replacing recently vanquished
Throw rug jigsaw mess
My early youth played upon
Our palace place
The living room
Scrunching pleasures
Toes lapping up that carpet
Dad's feet
Awful specimens
Calloused of years hard labor
Mother's feet
Preserved with nightly hot water soaks
Epson salts
When we could afford it
Worthy of pedicure
Never afforded
Me
Always wore my socks
Heavy wool
Darned when worn spots
Yelled loud enough
Mixed colors
When necessary
Yet always comfy
Homey
Loving covers
For footsteps
Unaware of the journey ahead
When steps would have to become strides
Leaps
Bounds
And eventually
Idleness
So present
These footfalls of then
Becoming echoes
Foreshadowing paces to come
When a once stubborn child
Needed to listen carefully
Or miss the lessons
Still offered today
From faraway footsteps
Passing near by
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