In huge purple blooms
ancestor of ancestors,
sun streaked cro magnon!
The whispering lime green leaves
told secrets of fragrant breeze.
~ An Eight-Line Treatise on 'Settler Colonialism' ~
The Apache beat up on the Cheyenne
and the Iroquois on the Sioux
Mohawks ‘mohawked’ the Mohicans
Aztecs turned the Cree into stew …
Now Europeans are called ‘settler colonialists’
but who does America really belong to
Probably Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon man
~ dispossessed by Indians too
In caves prehistoric
Static from minds ecstatic
Lively from minds elastic
Passion from minds romantic
Impression from minds pedantic
Bizarre from minds frantic
From Cro-Magnon to Warhol’s antics
Art pleas images and not semantics.
When the Cro-Magnan’s sat down to eat their fare,
The master screamed, and went on a tear.
Grunting, ‘Woman you goofed,
Coz on this saber tooth,
I bit through one of your yard long gross hairs!’
She yelled, ‘That’s what you get when being fed,
After dragging me around by my head.
So enough is enough
And I’m getting tough.’
He quipped, ‘Yeah, just like the food on this spread.’
Although words from both of them sounded brave,
She truly thought of him as a low knave.
And he was amiss
Aiming for a kiss,
Coz on that night he slept out of the cave.
As long as we keep our eyes closed,
We can sneak through the crack
Of perpetual motion in space and time,
To find the unique crystal
Made of a trillion magnon quasiparticles,
Whose impossible existence
Makes us almost believe in miracles.
Trillion: a million million (1,000,000,000,000 or 1012)
Magnon: a movement of the electrons' spin structure in a magnetic material.
Quasiparticle: an object that is similar to a particle, but does not meet the full criteria of a particle (a particle is a piece of matter smaller than an atom such as an electron or a proton).
Inspired by "Two Time Crystals Have Been Successfully Linked Together For The First Time," MICHELLE STARR in Science Alert, 2 JUNE 2022
Image: Could quasiparticles called magnons unmask a lightweight dark matter particle? livescience.com
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Australopithecus:
Denisovan, Neanderthal
Cro-Magnon, H. Sapiens
and I, Robot
would very much like you to meet us
Everybody and their cousin wants their haircut today.
The sign is in the window as usual – stylist needed.
Great opportunity. Apply within.
It should say ten stylists needed.
Many empty stations.
Not sure what is happening here.
The usual cutters are not around anymore.
The young ones are beeping and blinking on cell phones.
Ignoring the old lady customers who are trying to shout to each other
From under old fashion beehive dryers.
The beeping and blinking
And ignoring of customers
Is driving me nuts.
If I did not look like
an unkempt, Cro-magnon man today
I would be gone.
Without the wait.
Or the bad haircut
From a stylist who
is looking at her phone the whole time she is slashing my mess.
People Not Prolific During Neolithic
With some subjects can be able to concur
Then regarding others may not be so sure
For instance human and world development
And why from God all of this had been sent.
For our creation what was it God had in mind
If we did it would be like blind leading the blind
Maybe in the Bible there is much more to obtain
Without and Abel could there have been a Cain?
Of course, at times, we must start to realize
After tries and tries by us may be a surprise
As information grows that we collect and garner
About agricultural activity and life of a farmer.
People were never prolific during Neolithic
Times as well as period which was Paleolithic
Would people prefer to be called Cro-Magnon
Or perhaps Australopithecus and on and on.
Paying a tribute to current events of the day
We are all here still wondering which way
How each of existences eventually arrived
And though all the ages we still survived.
I just woke up at two in the morning after
I had dreamed about writing this poem.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
RiverSea Plantation
Bolivia, NC
Parched and cracked, the red planet’s soil
Life once flowed in seas, fossils found
The man in the moon may entreat
But sunken eyes on Mars confound
A sphinx’s face gazes back at Earth
Eerie replica of Egypt
Where pyramids are unexplained
A page from sci-fi novels ripped
Cro-Magnon man did not evolve
From Neanderthal DNA
So how did modern man debut
Some speculate an alien race
Did Martians make their way to Earth
When the red planet’s oceans dried
Seeking their self-preservation
A sphinx left behind as a sign
When landing on our blue planet
Finding a climate not too torrid
Did alien knowledge play a role
In creating Egypt’s pyramid
How ancient men could lift such stones
Defies modern science theory
Might refugees from a dead planet
Hold clues to human ancestry
The Viking One photos from space
Created much speculation
The Cydonia region of Mars
Home to a baffling creation
But further exploration suggests
The sphinx is a natural formation
Coincidence, we’re told to believe
Is the proper explanation
Look at Viking One’s photograph
And tell me if you agree
That nature, not aliens, crafted
This awesome similarity
*Entry for PD's contest
This was a poetry challenge - a twisted valentine
My Honey
(Valentine Challenge)
Dandelions and sweetbreads
are paltry proof
when all year long
he acts aloof.
He hunts all day
this clumsy brute
and barrels home
his horn a toot
bloody carcass
around his shoulders,
he bludgeoned it with a
jumbo boulder
In this black cave
I’m stuck all day
while beasts outside
devour their prey.
With my cro-magnon
cupid’s in trouble,
no match for us,
go shoot another couple.
Happy St. Valentine’s Day
©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
January 25, 2012
If Peter Piper picked a pack of pickled peppers, would you care?
Would the peck be put in a glass jar? What if he dropped a hair in there?
And, if Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet digging
and found the jar that Piper had hidden in the muck,
along side the skull of Cro-Magnon man?
“Ahhh, NO we’ve found the hip girdle and he’s a she!”
Well, ole Pipper’s pecker would have gone to the pie in the sky
and Miss Muffet’s tuffet would have gone to compost;
So, how would the archeologist know for sure? "
Why the HIP, you hafta have hips, miles and miles and mile of hips…
Baby you can be a hero of course just put that ‘orse behind the cart!”
Heart, well it’s left the building too. “Geeezzz it was just a pump
whatcha want from a pump?” Thump, thump, from the bump, bump,
then ya hump, hump, and my goodness, we’re back to Peter Piper and his pecker?
“NO, no, his peck of pickles and Muffet’s missin’ tuffet?
Well, I say the stars, yes the stars, show the way,
the celestial meaning of the id, the I, the you, the ego too,
and love “Ahhhhhh love the excuse for it all!”
The pickles, the muffins, the tuffet, the bumping the humpin’
The free for all of we!
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.
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