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Mark A. Rockeymoore

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The Bees Knees
by Mark A. Rockeymoore

Thursday, May 31, 2007
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Mark A. Rockeymoore
•  Dark Angel
•  Static Renewal, or, the Sun of Transcendent Vision
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           >> View all 111

What if...?


To see a bee or three
these days
brings a smile, to my face.

All this talk of extinction
of this species of distinction.

Floating gently on air,
sipping flowers so debonaire.

They bring both prosperity
and ease, but now
they're threatened
by disease or
something more dire
nobody knows for certain,
the hives stand empty
the final curtain
stands poised to drop
upon the scene,
leaving us bereft,
the future lean as fields
grow fallow without
their work...

bounteous agricultural diversity soon becoming distant memory, ephemeral dreams, tales to tell children at night as eyes mist with lost delight, the petty fear of stings has grown stale as the light of human achievement grows pale and I draw close to watch their industry, sending them energy in the form of love and perhaps they feel it as some divine dispensation from above, I don't know, only continue to go with the flow, my children observing with wide, curious eyes, feeling no fear themselves, neither on the out or the inside, Noah shouting 'ook, ook, bees!', Alysha peering curiously at the cactus trees where the golden flowers grow, cautiously drawing closer so she can see the workers too, the sun shines brilliantly in repose, the scent of life wafting beneath my nose...what if, possibly, potentially, collectivity possesses consciouness and intelligence beyond knowledge, far deeper and more pervasive than anything they teach in college; and the bees have retreated before the storm, leaving outliers to preserve some norm, or facade of normality until the time that something greater influences the Divine Mind to implement changes on a global scale, the scattering whales, retreating glacial shells causing the oceanic level to rise, the stormy skies confront ignorant eyes, hereditary instincts inform animalistic truth, while human logic denies the proof of our daily experience upon this earth, which global change contines to give birth to a new creation one day at a time, one day we'll wake up and then we'll find...

(in a realization so utterly and supremely sublime)

...that we're the only ones left on earth. The only ones left, to witness the rebirth. The bees and birds have flown into space and colonized Jupiter, leaving us this place. The animals moved to Saturn, with moons so fey, you can still hear their laughter as they flew away. The fish swam through air and space alike, whale calls and dolphin beeps echoing lonely, in the empty seas. Gaia's tears drip, drop  into oceans deep, the barren earth where no insects still creep. Organic spaceships once filled the sky as humanity ignored the reasons why. Pods blown high and higher still, lifeships of fantastic conception, plants and animals mutated, engaged in collective deception. Survival of the fittest, the darwinist are prone to say, and that is why we're alone, today.

Soul planes, merkaba streams, divine dreams of intelligent means.

The bees knees
are worn
from having their hearts
and souls torn
from them
as their food has been
genetically altered,
their anger and dismay
at humanity's ultimate
power play
a warning meant to inform
us of the arrival of
the Last Days.

Stay. Please
don't leave us
this way.

We still want
to play.


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Reviewed by Tinka Boukes 6/1/2007
One very wonderful buzzing write....hope they will stay....
on yourside if the field :)....I need no sting....just the honey sweet!!

Love Tinka
Reviewed by H Cruz 5/31/2007
Wow! that was a buzz and a half. :)
Reviewed by Anna M 5/31/2007
You poem is the cats pyjamas. It's brilliant & would probably sound great if it were read out too. I hope your pollen forcast isn't too acurate though and we sort it out in time, I want my kids to enjoy honey in their old age. Thanks for this creative & insightful one.
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