Aeropachydermicide

Aeropachydermicide: recklessly causing the death of someone or something by actions that result from the foolish belief that one is so smart and powerful that one can make an elephant fly.

 

Aeropachydermicide

  • Debunking the ridiculous theory of human dominion.
  • ~

    somewhere between our petrochemical insanity
    and our reckless dance with fractured atoms
    we believed we were the miracle
    and it all went seriously awry

    we fantasized we had dominion
    that we understood the vast unknown
    could control the raw chaotic
    that we had figured out the why

    so we delved into dark science
    with no regard for frail nature
    flailed our way across the planet
    belched our leavings into our sky

    we so bought into our egos
    that we perceived ourselves as gods
    that we were capable of anything
    perhaps make the elephant to fly

    but we humans lost sight of balance
    did not comprehend our place
    as only one of precious many
    we let the tipping point slip by

    now we wonder what will happen
    to our misbegotten dream
    stare through disbelieving tears
    as we watch it slowly die

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 10/3/11
    revised © 2019


     

  • Click below to check out more poetry at dVerse:
    Poetic: Theories of Everything and Anything
     

  • Check out more poems on Toads

     

    35C6DAEF-40AA-452C-885C-C373E1DE84F6
    Hi! I’m Edgrrr, rob’s shih tzu.

  • The Mourning

    The Mourning

    •

    the hollow wallow
    aglow in the spotlight’s heat
    to boast odes of praise for him
    in death
    who had few words of warmth for him
    in life

    while those who love him
    pay true tribute
    with searing tears
    of silent grief

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011


    Sooth

    Sooth

    •

    seek not the pompous
    swelled with false confidence
    dispensing the formulas of bliss
    condemning you as the un-visioned
    while fleecing you of your hard begotten

    follow not the kings and queens of mammon
    who worship the bottom line
    desiring the upper hand
    who would despoil the world and all it offers
    as their playground of gratification

    suffer not the priests and priestesses
    who would say that only they have heard
    and in so saying would dictate your thoughts
    and direct your deeds
    to conform to this truth of the god in their pocket

    do not be cowered by the iron hand
    of the bullet-brained who march in step
    to crush under boot the will of any who will not queue
    into the line that they have deemed
    leads to the only way that life must be

    do not be swayed by those who know
    possessed of absolutely no uncertainty
    knowing sure that what they know is what is
    and in their infallible knowledge
    know that what they know is was and will ever be

    instead — gather with those who do not know
    find the curious and the uncertain
    those still filled with wonder
    drawn to unfolding discovery
    who embrace the constancy of learning, change, and growth

    it is they who will traverse this evolving world
    fashioned as a fair and better place

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011


    You & Me

    I offer this piece in response to prompt #69 at Carry On Tuesday,
    and prompt #18 at We Write Poems,
    also the September 6th prompt at Big Tent Poetry,
    and the September 8th prompt at Three Word Wednesday

    You &Me

    (a poetic quadratych)

    •

    The Secret

    what I said was
    don’t touch
    go away
    leave me be

    while inside
    I cried out
    draw near
    stay with me

    you are light
    you are pure
    you are joy
    you are free

    I am not
    I am dark
    I am beast
    can’t you see

    without you
    there is much
    you don’t know
    about me

    The Revelation

    I lived at the light’s edge
    that pooled in the night
    on the bleak back streets
    of the sad brokenhearted

    I hid in the anguish
    of the loveless who cowered
    in the dark nightmare alleys
    of the lost and forgotten

    I fed on the grief
    of the mourners who wailed
    for their horrific loss
    in the ruins of death

    this was my heartscape
    black as mid-winter night
    a lightless horizon
    no glimmer of hope

    trusting was toxic
    no foothold for love
    relations were carnage
    scattered lifeless and cold

    The Change

    ’til a beautiful being
    eyes brilliant and true
    approached from afar
    bearing tinder of love

    the graceful arrangement
    was deftly ignited
    and patiently tended
    the fire gently stoked

    afraid to come forward
    I held outside the glow
    but your kindness drew me
    we stood by the blaze

    with passion it roared
    its light pierced my blackness
    its heat thawed my soul
    my cold heart was warmed

    The Miracle

    you wrapped yourself ‘round me
    gazed into my eyes
    your kiss soft and serene
    was the essence of healing

    with you in my life
    I am darkness removed
    soaring and weightless
    radiant and rising

    vital and caring
    my spirit’s renewed
    illuminated wholly
    by a new dawn of dreams

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • photo above is of the GOASTT, digitally enhanced by: rob kistner 2010

    Old Man’s Prayer

    …this piece is in response to the 16th prompt of 2010 on Writer’s Island,
    and visual prompt Mag 27 at Magpie Tales (see image at bottom),
    also offered for prompt 129 at One Single Impression,
    and for prompt 228 at Sunday Scribblings….




    Old Man’s Prayer

    •

    successful as a younger man
    the grind became my home
    and I a conduit of worry
    could I keep the crazy pace

    years spun wild as a top
    around faster ever faster
    life layering its patina
    etched deeply in my face

    suddenly no longer young
    now looking back from 63
    I’ve known triumph I’ve known tragedy
    they’ve marked me both the same

    I’ve borrowed bought and sold
    strayed through several shades of grey
    but have I leveraged my soul
    just to play the fleeting game

    I pray I will not be an old man
    gazing lonely out my window
    trying to remember
    exactly how long it has rained

    not sitting silent by the fire
    lost in contemplation
    wondering if all I lost
    was worth what it was I gained

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • photo of top from the movie Inception

    _________________



    Mag 27

    Extinction’s Shadow

    …these are rewrites of prior drafts, edited fresh for the June 21st prompt at Big Tent Poetry
    and strongly influenced by prompt #7 at We Write Poems


    Extinction’s Shadow

    •

    smothered by big oil
    our blue planet is dying
    greed’s shadow falls hard

    •

    future is mortgaged
    to petrochemical lust
    fatal addiction

    •

    mankind is drowning
    in a flood of fossil fuel
    black tide of folly

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • 3D color rendering at top entitled: “Too Long in the Shadow”
    by: rob kistner © 2008

    Maneater

    • In response to prompt #6 of the newly opened We Write Poems, I find arrogant, manipulative divas to be difficult to tolerate, or to understand…



    Maneater

    •

    auburn mane with sable streaks
    frosted ermine — lush with pride
    a bounce and whip, and tiply snap
    with each stiletto’d wanton stride

    taught hips roll on slender stems
    that part in ripples then enmesh
    a brushing sigh of stirring heat
    toned thighs gliding flesh on flesh

    a stare of comely crystal blue
    floats above a ruby pout
    that takes you in devouring
    has its way, then casts you out

    tongue tip teases top lip’s edge
    like supple paintbrush flowing
    a smile to burn and hypnotize
    that wraps around you knowing

    luscious wench — worldly wise
    sleek as steel — tall and strong
    swift and cunning, motor running
    she might acquiesce, but not for long

    poor fool who tastes this lusciousness
    is hopelessly addicted
    there’s only one word for this life-force
    that word, my friend, is — wicked!

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    NaPoWriMo #27

    This is my twenty-seventh post for National Poetry Month 2010
    • one acrostic
    • one tanka


    ____________________________________

    • inspired by Carolee Sherwood ‘s day 27 prompt at read write poem to write an acrostic

    ____________________________________


     

    Evolution

    •

    Even in chaos nature finds balance.

    Violent floods beget fertile fields.

    One thing ends, another begins.

    Life is a cycle of birth and death.

    Untamed wildfire creates forest ash.

    The ashen remains nurture growth again.

    In the caterpillar lives the butterfly.

    One thing ends, another begins.

    Now and forever, the mandella spins.

    • • •

     

    ____________________________________


     

    Stone Fox First

    •

    garage sound check great

    groupies at the ludlow door

    allmans soon to start

    damned duane is still m-i-a

    we stone fox boys are ready

    • • •


    • acrostic and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

    ____________________________________

    …check out who’s gettin’ acrostic at readwritepoem

    NaPoWriMo #22 – The Gaia Suite

    This is my Twenty-second post for National Poetry Month 2010
    • an Earth Day message
    • two tankas
    • one prayer


    ____________________________________

    • • Happy Earth Day • •

    ____________________________________


    • Go and visit the Earth Day Action Center 2010, and please — be aware!




    An Earth Day message:

    These are some thoughts I would like to share on this Earth Day 2010. It is from my heart, and expresses my great concern for this planet earth, and all of us who are traveling aboard her. If you are not in the mood for heavier fare, you can skip down to the poetry below this message.

    For the rest of you, I see our global society becoming more and more desensitized to killing, suffering, the dignity of women, our failing stewardship of this planet, and the value of life in general.

    Popular art reflects culture; it has in all of history. The ongoing proliferation of movies, video games, music, comic books, our dress and personal trappings, TV, even the TV commercials; this all cast a disturbing reflection of the direction a core section of the people of the earth are moving. And the less than subtle movement to cast doubt, even ridicule, on those who believe that the care of this world needs our attention NOW! One might argue that any of these individually is perhaps moot, but taken as whole, it begs to be examined — I feel.

    Our children and adults alike, spend hours playing graphic video games in which the sole purpose is bloodletting — maiming and murdering, in the most violent and gruesome ways. There are many wonderful video games, but the breadth and depth of the “snuff” games is cause to pay attention.

    The gladiator-like fighting cultures that have arisen in recent years is something to look at. These are no longer the staged violence of pro wrestling, in itself a bit unsettling – these are real blood for the sake of blood. In Rome, the rise of gladiators was a sign of the accelerating decline of the Roman Empire. We may not be there yet, but what does this current, rampant thirst for blood have to tell us?

    Another litmus that has always reflected the culture, is the impact of man’s religious constructs. Too often, the role they play is the manipulation and repression of his freedoms. I have nothing against the numerous religious constructs man has created. For those so drawn, they are a place for the safety and certainty they require.

    However, when radical religious minorities begin to attempt to dictate and rule the masses, imposing their constructed values and fundamentalism, especially when they claim it is the will of god – we’ve got to take serious notice.

    These are the signs that point to the stripping of freedom of responsible individual thought and personal rights – and essentially, eradicating the essence of personal responsibility. Today, with the rise of the repressive extreme fundamentalism that we see around the globe, it is akin to the eve of the dark ages. I don’t think we will descend to those extreme depths, but what does it mean when we have so many who would lead us there – even if, in some cases, it is unwittingly?

    I so want to champion optimism — but I cannot and will not turn a blind eye to the signs I see. None of us had better do so. We all need to become proactive for balance. That is the key. Balance the extremes of this world; ecological, social, moral, financial, and the like.

    To be proactive I have started this creative blog, Image & Verse, to begin, in my small way, to penetrate the root sensitivity of our society. I firmly believe the embrace and expression of creativity is the key to elevating our human species.

    I write poetry, speaking in sparse focused voice at times, entertaining lofty and beautiful thoughts at others, also embracing our human sensitivity and sensuality, and holding a mirror to reflect what is beautiful, or to reflect what I see as troubling — because I believe poetry has the power to penetrate the human psyche to greater depths than any written form.

    Poetry actually has the ability to alter people on a level that strict written word often cannot. If I write an essay, I make you think; maybe even alter your opinion. I write a poem, I have the chance to make you feel something, in your core – that can alter your hardwired being. I believe this.

    I think we urgently need to probe to these depths of the human psyche now, to send out these altering sparks, because I think there is trouble brewing, on some fronts, that could have dire consequence for the long-range future – of the planet and humankind.

    I also write poetry to celebrate, to lift up my own spirit, to have hope, to see possibility – to protect my personal sanity.

    So let us dance, sing, embrace the beauty and the miracle of life and this magnificent world in which we live, and seek joy and truth – but let us not be a Nero. Our Rome is beginning to smolder.

    –and so it goes–
    …Rob

    ____________________________________

    …this art piece immediately below is entitled “Gaia Yields” by: rob kistner © 2007…


    The Gaia Suite

    Gaia Weeps

    •

    man seeks dominion

    frail balance has been disturbed

    gaia is weeping

    man clings to his arrogance

    denial does not absolve



    Gaia Yields

    •

    seeds push seeking sun

    sky is pulling with spring rain

    gaia yields new life

    if man is responsible

    the balance can be restored



    Prayer For Balance

    •

    mother gaia you embrace us
    carry us safely
    as we hurtle thousands of miles
    every hour of every day
    through infinite space

    you provide for us our every need
    sustain our bodies with your abundance
    nurture our spirits with your beauty
    your endless wonders

    your need is simple

    that we live in balance with your rhythms
    with our fellow travelers on this amazing journey

    that we know gratitude
    humble stewards of your countless gifts

    for millennium upon millennium
    we lived in harmony
    attentive
    reverent
    but we’ve grown arrogant

    foolishly
    we believe we have dominion over you
    over all in your realm

    in pursuit of intellect we lost our sense
    our equilibrium
    lost our way

    even as we watch you suffer
    we cling to our ego
    to our destructive delusion of supremacy

    we do not see
    do not understand

    please forgive us
    be patient
    do not forsake us
    we can learn
    we must learn

    love for you is still strong
    among your wayward children

    this voice of love cries out
    please listen
    it resonates more loudly with the passing of time

    precious mother gaia
    grant us time to again find our way
    our humility
    our center

    the balance

    • • •

    • tankas and prayer by: rob kistner © 2010

    ____________________________________
    …thanks to Catherine for her prompt, and check out the other offerings at readwritepoem

    NaPoWriMo #18 • part 2 – Mask

    This is part 2 of my eighteenth post for National Poetry Month 2010

    • VARIATIONS ON THE MASK •

    ____________________________________


    …these two free verse poems are inspired by prompt #112 at One Single Impression…

    ____________________________________


     

    Unmask

    •

    outside
    evening breezes freshen
    a wind chime hangs in the eave
    rings time to time

    inside
    we sit with dinner
    complacency
    little resonance

    we care for one another
    our love
    goes without saying

    meal finished
    we clear the table
    converse very little
    no need
    we know each other
    know without saying

    task done
    we part quietly
    me to my keyboard
    you to read

    outside
    sunset paints the deck soft amber
    tubular bells welcome twilight

    inside
    a silent shadow lurks
    indifference

    I reflect
    times we’ve hurt each other
    caused thoughtless pain

    that carelessness forgiven
    we are bound
    goes without saying

    outside
    brisk wind greets day’s end
    chimes pleasantly keep pace

    inside
    turbulence stirs as I type

    I wonder of our happiness
    surely we are
    goes without saying

    but
    why is it we do not say
    so much we never say

    we wear masks of silence
    to hide the vulnerable face of love

    how dangerously foolish

    my heart wants to cry out
    shatter the stillness
    rouse you from your pulp & plot

    talk with me
    it shouts
    I lift my mask
    see me now
    see me new

    talk with me
    I can still surprise

    let us speak what is not spoken
    unmask what’s in our hearts
    before love is gone

    without ever saying

    • • •



    ____________________________________


     

    The Mask

    •

    the other smoulders
    when donned the mask
    the fantasy that you desire
    heart of passion
    on wings of dreams
    when she is the other

    unleashed at light of moon
    brought forth at your request
    sustained at her delight

    she is isis
    she is venus
    she is your every longing
    loosed
    to bring you every pleasure

    she is everything
    and all of this
    bestowed
    with aphrodite’s kiss

    beneath the mask
    the real bliss
    your precious wife
    your treasure

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010



    • 1st art piece entitled “Gamayn”
    • 2nd art piece entitled “Peacock”
    both fabulous works by: Marilena Mexi



    ____________________________________

    …to read NaPoWriMo #18 • part 1, CLICK HERE

    ____________________________________


    …like masks like I do, click here

    NaPoWriMo #18 – Human Arrogance

    This is my eighteenth post for National Poetry Month 2010
    • one free verse poem
    • one tanka


    ____________________________________

    • inspired by Irene’s day 18 read write poem prompt / and #49 at carry on tuesday

    ____________________________________


    …a thing of beauty is a joy forever, a captive wild soul — is a tragedy


     

    Pacing

    •

    from rippled sinew black as midnight
    bores a stare of molten gold

    a furious but calm inferno
    searing deep to burn your soul

    I watch helpless this panther’s pace
    held captive in this foolish zoo

    cold eyes rivet snarled contempt
    unfathomed pools of quiet rage

    on this panther paces paces
    turns and paces back he paces

    graceful stride of brute resolve
    presses on to test the limit

    proud this captive soul just paces
    frustration turns anger retraces

    this brutal prison of false environ
    does not fool this mighty beast

    observe how he continues pacing
    instinct certain this is not home

    his piercing gaze fixed well beyond
    his suffered fate of cruel confine

    see the panther pacing pacing
    his nature steeled his spirit strong

    relentless sorrow wild longing
    drive on and on his constant stride

    this will not break his fierce resolve
    he tracks freedom he stalks life

    imprisoned he will forever pace
    and he will pace

    and he will die

    • • •

     

    ____________________________________


     

    Out Of Step

    •

    nature is a dance

    transcendent syncopation

    rhythmic side by side

    but the chorus line falters

    humankind is out of step

    • • •



    • poem and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

    …collage just above entitled “Nature’s Anger” by: rob kistner © 2006
    …panther image digitally rendered & edited by: rob kistner 2010 — base image source anonymous…

    ____________________________________

    …check out what’s prowling over at readwritepoem

    Spellbound

    NaPoMo poem #20

    This is the twentieth of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

    • NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

     

    This poem was inspired by the image below entitled “The Bride Wore Red”, by Pareeerica

    Spellbound

    •

    scarlet lady in crimson silk
    a beauty to mesmerize
    sculpted by a master’s hand
    so seductive as to scandalize

    a stare of comely crystal blue
    floats above a ruby pout
    spellbound by her magic eyes
    she holds your soul with no way out

    her tongue tip teases her top lip’s edge
    like a supple paintbrush flowing
    her smile will pierce and hypnotize
    then wrap around you knowing

    you are now her helpless captive
    quite hopelessly addicted
    in the velvet grip of her mystery
    is she an angle or is she wicked

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2009

    ___________________________

    • you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

     

    Ziggy

    NaPoMo poem #7

    This is the seventh of the poems I will be writing each day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

    • NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

     

    Ziggy

    •

    ivory silk french-cuffed bar-collared shirt
    soft as butter sweet as cream dessert

    cuff links of diamonds and pure white gold
    a heady treasure – bourgeois and bold

    pearl-stick-pinned satin tie knotted tight
    elegant as paris on a saturday night

    desert-tan gabardine three-pleat slacks
    euro-cuffed razor-creased sharp as tacks

    snakeskin braces buttoned sterling bright
    hip and killer as a rattler’s bite

    black-patton striders with alligator spats
    steppin’ out classy as the coolest cats

    fine pinstriped linen coat double-breasted
    uptown savvy and velvet vested

    full-blocked rolled-brim felt chapeau
    in the deepest red of a fine bordeaux

    he was crisp and smooth as a dry martini
    they all called him ziggy
    but his name was bob

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2009

    ___________________________

    • you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

     

    Faster Faster

     

     

    Faster Faster

    •

    lay down your weight
    put down your worry
    slow down your pace
    cease with your hurry

    soon you will get there
    life rushes by
    you wonder when
    so harder you try

    to fill up what’s empty
    as faster you fly
    wondering when…
    who’s wondering why

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2009

     

    …art piece entitled “Faster Faster” by: rob kistner © 2009

     

    So Good

    • Here is a bit of lighthearted noir tongue-in-cheek…

    So Good

    •

    do not take this as precocious
    but in business I’m ferocious

    I wheel the deal with an artist’s feel
    I rip the meat down to the bone

    if I do say so – I’m incredible
    so good, I’m almost edible

    brains and brawn, I’m bright as the dawn
    I’m on my game and in the zone

    unyielding in a meeting
    I administer a beating

    I kill their will, I’m king of the hill
    my demeanor is cold as stone

    I am hungry and I’m ruthless
    while the others all seem toothless

    they hop, then drop, it’s me at the top
    yes at the top I stand alone

    at the top

    I am

    alone

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2008