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 THE CREATORS

 Digital art and poetry by Mark Beckemeyer

When technological wonders have become so commonplace

That with the natural world they assimilate and interlace

Organic life and electronic circuitry will share a common face

When the wires and silicon chips have taken on features of their own

And cutting edge developments take us places previously unknown

Will we bask in the glory of our accomplishments and marvel at how we’ve grown?

Or will we pay the dearest price for the carelessness and ignorance that we’ve shown?

As motherboards with processors begin to do our thinking

And automated  robots perform the physical labor

Guided by the electronic memory banks to which they’re linking

Will we have more time to think, more moments in life to savor?

Or will our muscles twist in atrophy as our brains start shrinking?

Do you think you will rejoice at our artificial wonders

And the God like way to which our creations a semblance of life we gave

Or will our great endeavors become regretful  blunders

Mechanical inventions to turn against us , and to which we become slave

The day intelligent machines do all the work and make our decisions

And plastic and metal entities have acquired second nature

They will in all of their infinite wisdom decide mankind is in need of revisions

Stripping us of our humanity and assigning  us new nomenclature

Then the world their wired minds will try to make a better place

Without the meddling of men, flesh and blood ,no emotions, not a trace

But their efforts too are doomed to fail and will end in utter disgrace

Because their existence is flawed, something so terribly wrong it can’t be a plus

You see, they had forgotten, everything they knew and were was acquired from us

When  man becomes conceited with his God like emulation

The world is bound to end in perfectly complete devastation

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Rabid Wolf Spider

Has anybody besides me heard the familiar call “Honey there’s a spider in the bathtub” ? Living in the country as I do it seems to be an all too common affair. Maybe some of you city folk can tell us if this happens in them there parts. Those bathtub surprises, got to love them. There have been other kinds of spiders trapped in our tub, this one happens to be a Rabid Wolf Spider. I won’t go in to a long story about the wolf spider because I have done a blog on them in the past.  Yep, it’s a good practice to knock your shoes out a couple of times before you put them on too.   Ah, but the country life is good, wouldn’t trade it for anything. Creepy crawlers in the tub, wasps coming in the open door with you, possums in the trashcans, snakes in the yard. Just some of the things you learn to live with when you enjoy the quiet country life. But I’ll take the crickets and the coyotes over the blaring car stereos and the sirens any day. Well., now that I’ve taken its picture I guess I’ll take its hairy little butt outside and let it go. Good day folks, and for heaven’s sake shake out those slippers before you put them on this morning!

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Blind Faith

MONSTERS

 Poetry and artwork by Buckobeck

Back when the days of my life were long
Mama told me that real monsters didn’t exist
But well meaning mother was terribly wrong
And in their vile, putrid existence I fully insist

It was not the hideous creature under the bed
Or the demon in the closet with long pointy teeth
Not the oozing brain eating grave risen undead
Nor the dark silent evil in the basement beneath

The things behind the trees on a moonless night
A soul collecting black figure with a scythe
Spooky sounds that emit from corners with no light
No, What I speak of is more unsettling than this

Half human mutants in a blood splattered hall
Smiling while they dine on moist rotting entrails
Muttering unintelligibly as your name they call
Carting the gelled innards away in old rusty pails

You say nothing could be worse, sitting in disbelief
But I saw it on the national news, just today
And in your silent denial you will find no relief
Around your neighborhoods and next door they play

Unspeakable sickness beyond my meager depictions
More indescribable disgust than anyone should feel
Even beyond my extremely graphical descriptions
Scenes that should make the coldest of hearts congeal

Mothers who sever their blood given child’s arms
Catholic priests that molest innocent young boys
Folks murdered for money and buried under farms
Hookers mutilated for a sick bastards personal joys

Husbands that show their love with clenched fist
Uncles that insist their nieces have a seat on their lap
Are you seeing the picture? Are you getting the gist?
Fathers who fondle children while they innocently nap

John Wayne Gacy luring children, disguised as a clown
Ed Gein eats people at the command of his mother
That bastard Ted Bundy out for a night on the town
One who butchers an ex because there should be no other

World leaders that declare war under false pretenses
Son of Sam slaughters on the orders of a dog
Murderous mother fuckers protected by insanity defenses
94 percent do without, because 6 percent hog

So go ahead, tell your kids monsters don’t live, lie to future generations
They’re only humans who made mistakes and should be forgiven
Don’t allow them to believe in man kinds grotesquely twisted imaginations
Just lull them with your vision of the world so peacefully driven

OK, monsters still don’t exist, I respect your belief
Your final decision, based on morals. It is truly a relief

And of your mothers words, to which you’ve conceded
I find them very relaxing and so extremely handy
My destination remains undeterred, my goal unimpeded
Jump in the car little girl, I’ve got some nice candy.

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Northern Fence Lizard

NORTHERN FENCE LIZARD

Their average total length is 5 inches so I had to get very close and be very patient to snap this lizards profile. They are grayish-brown with dark markings across the back and tail. This is a common forest-dwelling species that often lives around country homes and rock gardens. Their choice of split rail fences and stacks of firewood as places to live gave this species its name. They can escape capture by running up a tree.  I hope every one enjoys this weeks wildlife photo, stop by again real soon.

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Black Rat Snake.

I found this Black Rat Snake making its way through the leaf cover on the forest floor. After I startled the snake it climbed a rather small nearby tree affording me an opportunity to take this photo . Black Rat Snakes are non-venomous but may bite if handled carelessly, however, the ones I have encountered took to handling quite well and did not bite. These snakes are relatively slow-moving and range in size from 32 to 72 inches, I have encountered specimens in excess of 6 feet. Rat snakes are our friends and help control the rodent populations.

EXIF DATA

• Make – Panasonic
• Model – DMC-FZ8
• Software – Adobe Photoshop Elements 3.0 Windows
• ExposureTime – 1/60 seconds
• FNumber – 3.30
• ExposureProgram – Normal program
• ISOSpeedRatings – 100
• MaxApertureValue – F 2.83
• MeteringMode – Multi-segment
• LightSource – Auto
• Flash – Flash not fired, compulsory flash mode
• FocalLength – 26.80 mm
• ExifImageWidth – 2000
• ExifImageHeight – 1125
• SensingMethod – One-chip color area sensor
• FileSource – DSC – Digital still camera
• SceneType – A directly photographed image
• ExposureMode – Auto
• White Balance – Auto
• Contrast – Normal
• Saturation – Normal
• Sharpness – Normal

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THE LIVING DEAD

As an army medic my buddies and I often amused ourselves at the expense of the new arrivals in our unit.  Green horns could always be found on missions to retrieve Eustachian or Fallopian tubes from central supply, receiving instruction on how to check feces for blood. (The old trick involving a sterile bed pan, partially melted chocolate, and corn), or (the now classic) apple juice in a specimen bottle urine test. Such sophomoric humor was common around the Fort Sam Houston Medical Center, much to the dismay of the new soldiers, and the chagrin of our superiors. But these practical jokes were becoming ordinary and mundane.  Just plain worn out. We longed for something new and exciting. Something original, something to call our own.

Its white washed walls were pitted and flaking, stained with time, the roof topped with brick-red clay tiles.  Yawning arched doorways swallowed you whole as you entered the building to negotiate the maze of corridors and cavernous rooms. Walking into the old hospital was like stepping into the belly of a giant beast. Horses were housed in a basement stable years ago when the Calvary was still active. Sometimes on hot Summer days you could smell their long gone apples. Brian, Mike, and myself were assigned to the chronic care wing of this haunting place. People dying was an unfortunate reality here, and upon their demise we were charged with cleaning the corpses, filling out forms, tagging the toes, bagging the bodies, and ultimately, wheeling them to the morgue. Morgue carts were large two tiered rectangular boxes on wheels. The bodies were placed on the lower level and a sheet was draped over the upper level. This was done so other patients didn’t get upset seeing you rolling down the hall with what was obviously a deceased individual.

Now the walk to the morgue was a long and scary proposition in itself.   We worked the midnight shift and most of the lights in the facility were turned down to a minimum.  First you took the elevator down to the basement. (ooh, a morgue in a basement) Then you pushed the cart down an endless hallway, the kind that seemed to get longer as you went, and was lit just enough for you to negotiate your cargo to its destination…, the morgue. Clear to the other end of the lonely old hospital, and an entry room lined with giant jars filled with body parts, deformed babies, and other human oddities. It still makes my hair stand on end.

Sergeant Mulligan was the newest addition to our medical team. He was a decent enough guy, firm but fair. He balked at the thought of doing any preparation on the remains of the unfortunate, and left us to the work that no one really wanted to perform. He would however wheel the body to the morgue refrigerator. And took his sweet time, he did. Sometimes he would not come back for at least an hour. Never did know exactly why a ten minute trip took that long. Well, one night one of our patients left this world. The remains were properly prepared and Sergeant Mulligan was notified ,as he had requested, that the body was ready to be moved. You could hear him whistle as he wandered off in the direction of the elevator, a squeaking cart-wheel keeping time. What was he whistling? Hmm.., Red River Valley I think it was. There was a familiar ding. Then he was gone.

One minute, Two minutes, Distant screaming could be heard. It was coming from the elevator shaft. Distant but clear. The profanity was obscene and it was getting closer. Sergeant Mulligan burst through the stairwell door, wide-eyed and going on and on, something about the body reaching out and grabbing his arm. Mike and I just stood there smiling. About that time the elevator again emitted its familiar ding. The doors opened, and there stood Brian with an empty cart. The Sergeant stood there for a second as if perplexed. Then Brian quipped.,,

“Guess I’d better go get that body now, how’s that grab ya Sarge?”

With that he reached out and grabbed Mulligan’s arm. We all laughed long and hard. The Sergeant stopping every so often to call us bad names and tell us how much he hated us. It was a tradition for a while. And every time one of us pushed the cart we always checked inside first.

Early To Rise

Dress your army buddy up in a frilly pink dress when he has passed
out from a night of too much cheer and watch the expression on the company
commanders face when he wakes you up for that surprise early morning

Inspection

Wake up a guy taking a nap in the barracks about 6pm while you’re
still in uniform and tell him he going to be late for the 6:10 a.m. formation. Then
watch him do the bug tussle trying to get ready for the non-existent gathering.

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Luna Moth.

Luna Moth.

These two Luna Moths were on the shed behind my house on two separate occasions during the summer of 2011. They were very cooperative subjects so I took many pictures of them. Years ago I collected moths like some people do butterflies. Now I just capture them on pixels. I believe it is a better way to enjoy their beauty. Here is a LINK to my store if you are interested in seeing more critters from my frog pond or perhaps buying a postcard to support the efforts here at Buckobecks..

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All the proper equipment was in my possession, the net, drying boards, thin flexible pins, clean white strips of paper to hold their wings down in the proper position while drying, and the killing jar. I used large glass gallon jars for mine, and filled the bottoms with plaster of Paris. When the plaster hardened it was porous and would readily soak up the quick acting poison. It had to be quick so the butterflies wouldn’t tear up their wings in the throes of death. Pop had taught me well. An interest in insects is something we always had in common.

My collection was a nice one. Butterflies large and small, brightly colored and drab, a good variety. I kept their bodies in 20″ x 16″ black boxes with shiny brass hinges and bleached white foam beds on which to mount my trophies. They stood out like a colorful scarf dropped on a pristine blanket of snow. I was proud of my work, but I was always looking for something new and different and this was a good day for a hunt, so I grabbed my gear and headed out in search of Lepidoptera.

It was a perfect dawn for collecting, the air was crisp and my quarry was still stiff and not quick to evade capture. The warming sun was sending wisps of water vapor rising from the grass that lazily swirled into the air, and as I walked into the heart of the meadow drops of dew fell at my feet like tiny jewels.

Time moved quickly and before long my jars were near their capacities. Deciding that my catches had been good enough I packed my gear into the shoulder bag and started making my way back through the ocean of wildflowers…, and that’s when it happened. Something so unbelievable, so insanely crazy, that I thought I had lost my mind. I fell to my knees numb and dizzy with disbelief, staring me straight in the face., was a fairy.

“It’s a hallucination” I thought.

Then she spoke. In a tiny, barely audible voice. Almost a buzz.

“Hello” she said.

And then it all began.

Would you come with me to my magic place and in the forest lay

I said that would be lovely and rose up knocking my bag over

And a giant glass jar full of butterfly bodies rolled onto the clover

You’re a monster and you can’t be with me I heard her tiny voice say

And she fluttered and she sputtered as she tried in vain to fly away

I couldn’t let her go, and the magical little beauty didn’t get far

Because I snagged her in my fine mesh net and put her in the killing jar

I flew into a violent rage and she was dead because of my transgression

And to further my insanity I dried her and pinned her in my collection

Then I awoke in my bed with a terrible start, had it all been a bad dream

Yes I thought, the horrible events were a frightening nightmare it would seem

I lit a smoke, and rubbed my eyes, and fumbled for my socks

I froze with fear when I saw it sitting on the nightstand, a casket-like black box

It can’t really have happened, surely not in that box is hid

The body of the worlds last fairy, evidence of the evil I did

Slowly and shakily, with fear and self loathing in my heart, I lifted up the lid.

The Last Fairy.

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Full Missouri Moon.