PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The Elders will enter first; followed by

the people, young and old, and then yourself:

all gathered quietly in sacrosanct

shadows around the holy table on

which lay (beneath a linen shroud) the flesh---

soon to be pierced, its blood shed for your sakes,

a quite peculiar people nourished thus.

Some think the monkeys built this habitat;

some say, the sapiensaurs.  Whoever did,

left nothing of themselves---except perhaps

on the long gone earth.  Certain legends state

that every species, more or less, attained

a time of high intelligence during

millions of epochs (and, always nearby,

the human beings, conscious but never quite

conscientious enough of others with

whom that world had been shared).  And each species,

except mankind, and your people, fell back

into brute instinct, thoughtlessly.  To that

end, and to make a safer life for all,

the first, ancient competitors subdued

the human minds as thwarted enemies,

Cattle they had become then, just as now,

cattle they are---a thousand levels full.

They eat, drink, copulate; but mostly sleep

until they die, or else have been chosen

to feed the people in blood scarifice.

The cattle pose not threat to anyone.

But your own poeple, the triumphant heirs

of all the other species' technical

accomplishments, will never, ever, sink

to unintelligent and insectoid

responses driven by hormones or, else,

mere circumstances.  No this great species---

purest of the once living earth's life forms,

whom the ancestors of the cattle once

called (in "mankind's" huge arrogance . . .) Bedbugs . . .

Starward