Hour of the Beasts

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When the most capable
believe they have risen above
the mucus, the shit, the afterbirth
of their origin

when in their reflection
they see perverse transcendence
towards entitlement
in which no allegiance
or kinship of nature
binds them to their center

nor founds them in the
fevered fumbling fury
of the frightened flesh parade
in which they lock step
flailing for survival

when their insanity of arrogance
so distorts their vision of time
of the ancient
of the sweating
bone-broken reality
of human swill and wallow
through which they likewise trudge

shiny shoes or no

when they blatantly begin
to eat their own
while copulating with false gods
on forsaken gilded altars
of perjured horrors

then the hour of the beasts
is certainly at hand
and the power of wild nature
will rise up to dominate

and we’ll all become
the hulking mass
of the apocalypse
deserving to be struck down

and our black hearts
torn out and severed
by the self-inflicted rapier
of raw wild justice
and our husks immolated
on the pyre of banished
abandoned truth

that moment is near

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: eartweal

 

Fire Mark

This is a long-form, free verse poem, contemplating the post-apocalyptic ‘last person on earth’ theme, the “omega man” concept. This is a sobering take on the end of the world. It is also a love story, love lost that is.”

 

Fire Mark

~

I remember when it happened
remember well
the all-defining fire mark in time
that forever divided then from now

comfortably alone
walking up along the forested valley
that is our property line at the back
my eyes drifting up the azure waters
of the clear mountain stream
that rolled towards me crisp and pure

at the instant of the startling sound
the strange light
I cast my eyes to the very tops of the Douglas Firs

they stand proud at the river’s edge
sentries for centuries
protecting this northern boundary of our lands
steady and enduring
yet always supple in the winds that waft and quicken
whispering the breath of life
into this pristine realm

then came the second blinding flash
lighting the entire sky

tears glistened
the damned fools had finally done it

two years on now since that ominous event
but I never can forget the bone chill
that penetrating feeling

in those moments I knew
the cities were vaporized
I was isolated
alone
but how alone

too long now
since I have shared this vast beauty
with another’s eyes
with her eyes
with any eyes
or found my voice to exclaim its wonders

yet I still ramble the valley
wade the stream
given to an ever-rolling mumble
jabbering quietly to no one in particular
at the ragged edge of coherence
clinging to the chance
I might be rewarded with a response
her response
any response

but she had gone to the ciy
so only comes the murmur of the constant stream
carried on the season’s breezes

I have held my mind in good humor
bound by the glory of this land I wander
tethered to the waning hope
that she is not gone
that they all can’t possibly be gone
a hope buoyed by the majesty of these forests
that climb their way skyward
with the patience and persistence of the ages

but each day
a horrifying realization
grows in my mind
suffocating my soul

they are gone
every ~ last ~ one
gone

can I last
have I that patience
how long can I hold center
when comes my personal fire mark
my sunset

how long until my fragile psyche unravels
scrambling in lonely panic
seeking human contact

tonight I will sit alone again
in my room
in the soft light of the fire
the only light and warmth possible
since that fateful point in time
when the world’s infrastructure
collapsed

alone
month after month
in the smothering silence
in the maddening quiet
of this voiceless world
in which nowhere can be found
her eyes
any eyes

in which
never again will I hear
a simple

”hello”

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 8/17/12
revised © 5/18/19

 

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

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 Edge

     

    The Edge

    •

    standing at the edge
    feeling far below
    the great tides

    the ebb and flow
    the rise and fall

    the come and go of centuries
    wave by wave
    day by day

    might incarnate
    the power of indifference
    the surge of perfect apathy

    and I
    as insignificant as the grain of sand
    bounced and tumbled
    dragged helpless in the undertow

    and that crest of froth
    rises up in beckon
    the silk of azure blue
    slides smoothly down its slope of back
    as it dances on the deep

    how easy I could slip
    into that fathomed realm

    down down ever down
    into the waiting silence
    without so much a noticed sound

    absorbed into the churn and roar
    without so much a ripple
    to disturb the steady surf

    a subtle crease
    irrelevant
    erased even as it came

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011


    • linked at Magpie Tales

    Silence – two reflections

    These two poetic reflections are unrelated, beyond their focus on silence. The first reflection here considers what it is to fall into the deepening silence of old age. The second reflection looks at the silence that causes, and also results from repression…

     

    1ST REFLECTION

    Endings

    •

    shrouded by evening in waning october
    as autumn tumbles towards winter
    is to know the losing of the light
    the ever growing darkness
    the advance of the cold
    the time of endings
    death’s due vigil
    deep silence

    how do I abide this season

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    2ND REFLECTION

    Silenced

    •

    escape was an improbability
    as was understanding
    opinions regarding outcome
    ignored altogether
    fate sealed with no discourse
    executed with an air of entitlement

    when one has no arms to flail
    no fists to clench
    no fingers to point
    gestures of dissent are sorely limited
    rights easily wrest away
    freedom falls beyond grasp

    inevitable
    when one has no voice

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    poem “Silenced” inspired by image below

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    Boldy Go

     

    Boldly Go

    •

    the great wheel of time
    turns ever slow and steadily
    its ponderous mass unstoppable
    it presses onward mightily

    climbs the mortal mountain
    bearing the weight of history
    of ages and civilizations
    borne then razed by its immensity

    our lifetimes ride this wheel
    how far is but a mystery
    locked in fate ’round we go
    rolling bold toward hidden destiny

    frail temporal beings
    of a most amazing bravery
    we dream of a tomorrow
    for which there is no guarantee

    adrift toward a future
    of veiled and vague contingency
    still — we dare to love
    despite this vast uncertainty

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • this poem linked at Writer’s Island and One Single Impression

    Unfazed

    This poem was sparked by the incredible power of our earth, as exhibited most recently by the devastating tornadoes that swept through the American Southeast, and with deep reverence and sympathy for those who suffered as a result. I admire greatly your courage and will to live.

    …written for Day #29, NaPoMo 2011…


     

    Unfazed

    •

    we live
    by its grace
    at its mercy
    with delusions of mastery

    so close to extinction
    grappling awestruck
    day-in day-out détente
    survival in spite

    brute power
    incredible beauty
    this tolerant
    indifferent planet

    perhaps the imminence of peril
    embellishes our wonder
    ignites our superstitions
    kindles our will to live

    but our light will blink out
    this orb will evolve
    shine on
    unfazed

    • • •

    rob kistner © 4/29/11

    Final Sentinel

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    Final Sentinel

    ~

    I watched
    as generations
    moved forward
    as civilization
    painstakingly
    progressed
    set foothold
    knowledge
    unfolded
    slowly

    I observed
    the millenniums
    of human endeavor
    as they awakened
    to self-reliance
    less dependent
    on hive mentality
    mastering machines
    eliminating conflict
    striving for truth
    ever evolving

    I saw
    nature
    the world
    reshaped
    tempered
    resilient

    proud
    I stand tall
    thrust skyward
    closer to heaven
    than any living thing
    a perpetual presence
    the constant sentinel
    a witness to triumph

    would
    that all that
    were true

    I watched helplessly
    as generations receded
    as empires crumbled
    greed ran rampant
    wisdom ebbed
    civilization
    imploded

    I observed
    millenniums
    of human folly
    misguided logic
    flawed reasoning
    as they flailed
    stumbling
    to a cold
    isolated
    world

    disconnected

    from one another
    from the environment
    serving their machines
    serving their avarice
    perfecting violence
    racing to ruination
    becoming aliens
    in a mad eden
    disillusioned
    depraved
    diseased

    until
    they were
    no more

    I watched through tears
    as the natural world
    slowly declined
    diminished
    withered
    scarred
    died

    putrid
    toxic air
    permeates
    burnt terrain
    to far horizons
    and now I stand
    thrusting skyward
    in this decaying hell
    praying for a heaven
    the only living thing
    the pitiful survivor
    the final sentinel
    time’s witness
    to tragedy
    watching
    the end

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2010
    (revision © 2018)

  • Author’s Note: let’s strive to see part two never happens…

    _____________

  • What Do You See

    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

    Machine Mind

    This post is offered in response to prompt #14 at We Write Poems,
    the August 9th prompt at Big Tent Poetry,
    the August 11th prompt at Three Word Wednesday,
    and prompt #65 at Carry On Tuesday.




    “…scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could,
    they didn’t stop to think if they should…”

    Dr. Ian Malcolm


    Machine Mind

    •

    you wink awake at morning’s light
    beckoning me to focused task
    prompting me of promise

    you collaborate
    in my keeping touch
    in work dispatched
    in thoughts transcribed
    in matters pure creative

    you are my portal into virtual space
    to probe mysteries
    the vast unknown

    the tool I wield
    to unearth facts
    dig the dirt
    to search for truth

    tightly spun
    within the web
    you tend my life
    make all cogs turn

    my instrument of whim
    device of my distraction
    are you my submissive
    or master of my will

    when you’ve surpassed my vision
    will you serve me still

    have I the power to shut you down
    turn my back
    walk away

    to truly let you keep

    in the deep subconscious
    does your machine mind
    really sleep

    • • •

    TechReGret

    (a lighthearted tanka)

    •

    my laptop’s frozen

    and my cell phone’s out of range

    it’s at these times when

    I think how life used to be

    hand-written letters have soul

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    _________________________

    • photorendered collage entitled: “Machine Mind” – by: rob kistner © 2010

    IN CLOSING: We live a in a world immersed, if not drowning, in technology. The idealistic and naive early vision was to create technology to serve us, make life easier, less complicated – but the joke is on us. We now serve the technology, and life is more complicated — traveling at a pace we struggle to keep up with. We’ve leveraged our peace of mind in the misguided pursuit of leisure. Is there a remedy? If we do not open a global dialog focused at finding ‘balance’, the situation will, I believe, resolve itself – and the world will not like, and may not survive, the ultimate solution.

    As James Martin, one of our great modern thinkers and author of the “The Meaning of the 21st Century” points out in his most optimistic and uplifting book, man stands on the threshold of either the greatest era in human history, or the end of life as we know it – the outcome rests in our hands.

    I wrote an essay back in 2007 which deals with humankind’s strange relationship with the technology we’ve created. You can click here if you would like to read it. …rob

    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

    That Hollywood Sparkle

    …I wrote this in response to the June 14th prompt at Big Tent Poetry


     

    That Hollywood Sparkle

    •

    it’s not so much we resent the hungry
    no more than do we despise the poor
    rather we avoid and dismiss them
    with the dull cough of apathy
    we find them disturbing and dangerous
    they disquiet our comfort

    we do not flow with the milk of kindness
    our part is more the dark brandy of denial
    we do however praise our stars
    for their sensitivity toward the downtrodden
    it makes the less fortunate more glamorous
    and we like the hollywood sparkle it imparts to tragedy

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010


    The Key

    • In response to the 3rd prompt on the newly re-opened Writer’s Island, I offer a gothic tale…
    • I also offer this in response to prompt #116 at One Single Impression




    The Key

    •

    I must move quickly from this light
    that pools incrementally
    in this long
    pungent
    segmented hallway

    there is some safety in the shadows
    that linger tight
    to the arch walls

    so I bolt
    through the full moon’s glow
    that seeps silvered through the windows

    I press myself
    against the damp irregular surfaces
    that are the stacked-stone
    boundary breaks
    of this eerie chiseled passage

    I pause at each
    until I reach the last

    I halt

    sliding two fingers
    of my right hand
    into the small pocket of my waistcoat
    to confirm that it is still there
    I feel the cool brass
    of the oddly carved key

    relief seasons my trepidation

    nothing in my being
    wants this dire mission
    to which I am shackled

    but it is only my hand
    on the inscripted dagger
    gripped tightly in my left
    that can bring an end
    to my uncle’s unholy
    reign of horror

    I am the last surviving member
    of our cursed bloodline
    so the brutal deed
    falls to me

    creeping stealthily forward
    like a shade on the dank wall
    I move cautiously closer
    to the iron-laden
    dense wood door
    of his sleeping chamber

    my heart pounding
    my diaphram starved for breath
    I feel I may pass out

    but still I pursue
    the evil incarnate
    that lies
    locked away
    in undead repose

    suddenly
    a noise
    immediately behind me

    it echoes through these catacombs
    pierces my taut raw nerves
    and instantly paralyzes me

    trembling
    I turn

    no one there

    hushed
    I listen intently

    no other sounds
    save the blood
    pulsing as a roar
    in my ears

    I begin to move
    but again
    I hear it

    panicked
    I jerk my head around
    and see

    in this frozen moment
    my stressed mind deduces
    the source of the noise

    moisture
    collecting on the stone ceiling
    gathers overhead
    into sagging condensation

    it released
    as a weighty droplet
    splattering on the floor
    just behind me
    with a sharp startling slap

    I relax a bit
    enough to again draw
    tensioned breath

    several more labored
    careful steps
    and I place my hand
    gently on the wrought handle
    of the immense door

    transferring the lethal dagger
    to my quivering right hand
    I reach
    steadily as possible
    into my pocket
    and withdraw the strange key

    it is unnaturally heavy
    and seems to emanate
    an unearthly energy

    I clutch it firmly
    fearing if I lose my grip
    I will lose my nerve

    I guide the key
    into the slot
    of the ornate handle plate
    seating it fully

    slowly I begin to turn it

    I feel the resistance
    as the key’s teeth
    engage with the bolt
    and begin to grudgingly
    draw it from its secure well

    just before I have fully retracted it
    I pause
    my mind racing
    blood pressure soaring
    overcome by the magnitude
    of what I am about to do

    no turning back now
    this must be done
    and I must do it
    but I am terrified

    still I hesitate
    attempting to gain
    my much needed composure

    I slow my heartbeat
    steady my breathing
    steel my resolve
    and turn the key
    its final quarter inch

    the lock clicks
    the handle releases
    and the door unseats inwardly

    this is it
    fate has dealt the deck
    I am prisoner
    in this horrible game

    I swing the door open
    ever so gradually
    and step in
    toward my destiny…

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010


    Hands of Neptune

    …response to prompt #12 from Magpie Tales

    ____________________________________

     

    Hands of Neptune

    •

    like the disembodied
    hands of Neptune
    reaching from a rocky confine

    breaking surface
    into the watery realm

    seeking
    grasping
    needing

    but entombed
    in a glassened globe
    a crystal cage

    cruelly shut away
    from that which is most desired

    contact
    connection

    prisoner
    in brutal isolation
    banished
    even from the lesser gods

    condemned eternally
    to never know
    the redemption of touch

    • • •

    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