The Rhyme of the Ancient Garbage Man

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Rhyme of the Ancient Garbage Man

She wrapped her bins in perfumed
ribbons

Never ignored when slyly hinted

On yearly tips she never
stinted.

This morning, as our deeds were
done,

Hefting bins from off the tar

Down liquors misted upon our
lips

Each sip endowed a dream
afar!

Our unwholesome truck loomed
on a hill

A precipitous mass of clay

And for our sakes we prayed
the brakes

Would fail us not this work a
day.

Hours earned and hours spent

As we labored my glass did spy

A most bulbous, blue
bottle fly -

Elysium born with orchid scent.

A species of fly from a
journal page

With ochre cheeks and
antennae beige

From a thousand miles Bearing Beauty

From the Grecian Isles of
Calliphoridae.

Where the Forensic Island land is

A product of Mutatis Mutandis

Surpassing Laws of Wrighteous Aeronautics

Far beyond Laws of Embden Metabolics.

On the Island of Sapphirrus

Dwelt a flower of bluest hue Fly's Origin

One cried, "There is a fly it does admire us,

Transposing pollen to allow us to blow our azure hue."

The Flower cried to the fly,

"Your daily visits do require us

Provide nectar for you to sip

But there is a greater good we can do!

Since you are the drabbest hue

Entrancing no one in purview

Will we pass the germ of azure

Not in all its essence of perfection

But in the abstraction of refraction.

We will send this at your pleasure.

For the world's greatest treasure

Is the essence of sensory pleasure."

Then the land fell to destruction

Only a single fly remained

Carried by uplifting drafts

To the land of Calliphorus.

There it dined in the Cave of Cyclops

Savouring on their carrion slops

Dining where the Monsters rested

And its growth was unarrested.

Thus it grew in form and size

Never cast before in Earthly eyes

Of Man or Earthly beast

Now provided a beauteous feast.

Much self satisfied the flowers would have been.

But the flowers had guessed too far

For all flies the Earth is flattest flat

And these same flies are color blind.

Yet new wonder of instant phylogeny

The nebulous Laws of Chance

A single egg upon the reeking carrion

Numbered days of renowned ontogeny.

On the Isle Forensic, is a bust of uncommon
size

From which this insect's head
does rise

Emblazoned, 'Five and fifty
welts allotted

For every innocent fly that's
swatted.'

Wing veins from the fly's
description

Reading the patterns was the
prescription Science Names Fly

To decode the language of the diptera

Names are read without error.

A sage labored vain to
conceive a vivid doublet,

An allegory sound, a
resonating couplet,

From our homeland down to Hyperborea

None so apt as Calliphora vomitoria.

On a shard of junk this fly
alighted

To scrub its bristled head and
torso

Deep among setae and more
so

By twitching limbs no suture slighted.

Homage to the Goddess, Ulachit

Dislodging mites and mold spores Fly Reaches Truck

Fungus plagues of flies to eyesores

Fuzzy corpses of formless bits.

One trucker was a surly sort

Loving nothing but his own

He waited when it darted
close Death of Fly

Crushed it under a mutton
bone.

A shriek wended up from
remaining men

For they'd seen a grievous
sin!!

Naught but broken limbs and
wings remained Reaction to Fly's Death

Smeared on an oozing,
disheveled stain.

The fly had come a thousand
miles

A marvel of form and function while aloft

All truckers gave it naught
but sweetest smiles

And raised their palms with
kisses soft.

The surly man was grasped and
pained

And on him grievous curses
rained

Around his neck a ruined tire hung

The spoken words, 'His neck
be rung!'

Shamed I am this revealed,
for mercy I appealed

My pleas appeased not this
angered lot Garbage Man Regrets His Deed.

Raging for white hot
revenge

My soul helpless
fell as in a drunken binge.

Safety brakes did now fail
and down the hill

We fell, billowing trash in
burgeoning clouds

Unfettered forms all fates were sealed

All those piled against the windshield

Even the trash on the dash

Piled next to the driver

Stubborn it was yet

Blown as bare as Lady Godiva.

A wobbling wheel broke free

It sped along whirring loud

Free as free could be

To where roadside brethren be!

Mindlessly the truck rushed
on

Driven as by some demon born Fate of Truck and Crew

Until it came to rest at the
behest

Of the dismal, wounded,
howling horn.

Surrounded by great,
paper humps

Thises and thats and the
occasional rats

These and those and tattered
clothes

All ended lives in City
Dumps.

Our horn dead, the wheels
of lead

We sat with not a notion

How to finish our rounds that
day

With no source of motion?

Ghosts of trees writhed upon ruined paper ocean

Useless as uncut leaves of books unopened

Eroded hillsides as mystic totems, piled limbs all broken Ruined Beauty in Dump

When breezes flashed one bough of body oaken

Muted lain on sterile earth to worthy bard unspoken.

Left here in heat near the
whole day long

Thirst and hunger roamed each
belly

Fetid morsels to the east,
molded morsels west

Rancid water filled with
ichor formed a bloody jelly.

Stalled we were so impaled -

Truck of black, momentum
slack

Moved not a single atom

Stubborn as a red streetlight

Strung over hot macadam.

There we sat until the night,
the truck our only shelter

The heat remained to revolt,
stenches joining swelter. Dump Storm!

Then to our surprise a gale
did rise, lifting a trash commotion

Heaving waves to amaze old
mariners on an older ocean.

Giant wrigglers pallid,
roiled in the welters -

All had lost their cozy
shelters.

Maggots rose and fell at
random

All in nauseous, dangling
throes,

Squirming segments, in
senseless fandom

Escaping all our frantic
blows.

A flapping flock of eons past swarmed from an alien Era

Dressed in feathers rude, wings from crude, sigmoidal schematics

Shrieks of hissing, cackled calls without semantics

Over horny, toothed beaks, rasping rough file tongued statics.

Labored flight as sinews toiled

Fusions of bird and lizard

Ample body, a gourmand gizzard

Squirming lice on eyelids roiled.

These upon the maggots fell consuming them in droves

Beaks clacking, heads rapping consumed all that moved Maggots Appear.

They alighted where maggots sighted all to consume.

From below denizens rose their forms not disclosed.

Where limbs of flying forms were bared they were ensnared

Leaving but bloody stumps, crimson geysers gushing forth. Devoured!

The scene induced a hideous rapture of nature's meaning.

We questioned all we had been told now all senseless seeming

Mesmerized we became amid chaotic thrashing

The surface rose into the pose of liquid frothing

Heads and limbs trash and corpses became as one

Foaming, ripping, dipping, macabre, fevered dance.

Silent we sat as in sanctum
devotion

A variant subdued as a frozen
mind

On finite, fantastic molded
ship

On infinite, moldless Sargasso
Ocean.

As through a mystic Rabbit
Hole

We achieved our unbidden goal Lost Personalities

All cleansed of our place and
face

Our historic genome near
erased.

All vestiges of art
disgraced

In wretched deformed beauty

Freed all vestige of
ourselves

Free to ignore our pledge of
duty.

Then through the riotous mats

Hordes of mutant harbor rats

Tearing pelt and adhering
flesh

As through a razored mesh.

Evolved in muddied, tidal flats

Illumined by scanty running lights

Seeped from clans of huddled ships

Revealed the scutter of shadowed rats.

The land then raised the tides all thwarted

A dump began to flourish, far down below Rats Appear

Grotesque forms began to grow

In great tunnels lengths all shorted.

Through the void vast dissecting tunnels

Transforming all of mere possibility

Into the confines of obtained reality

The task of narrowed, confining funnels.

A Dump well known for improvisation

A Guitarist encoded in his Phaeton

Then shot rats in their shanty hovels

Strumming, 'I'm forever Blowing Bubbles.'

In rocky, birthing chambers, infant rats were sculptured

Dump mass flavored potent shaping hormones

Genes mutable and most suitable evoked cyclones

Forming forms with vile tools Pandemonium deftly tortured.

All born did not survive

The dead were duly cast aside

Even these and all else went unwasted

All of flesh was soon ingested.

Whiskers nuzzles a human ear

Hidden in her tousled, auburn hair Inquisitive Rat

Judging it a pliant, piquant puzzle

"Is there anything to eat down there?"

The goal of all the electricity

Defeat decline with multiplicity

To maintain the upward slope

Disdain the useless asymptote.

Great they were of beetled jaws

Muzzles bristled, long fanged faces

Eyes gleaming both lips and paws Rats and Winged Monsters

As with phosphorescent traces.

Then sounded a symphony of
agony

Wails and screams to revolt
the senses

Harmonious ascending dying
squeals

Seasoned for a fiend's delight.

Thrashing, gnashing as rehearsed

A formless Tarantella then traversed

Without distinction of form unseen

A tumult blended into massed cuisine.

Thus we gaped in fascination

Then we fell in desperation

In a Universe without meaning

We escaped in prayers
unmeaning,

Revolted, turned our face
away.

Where limbs were merely torn, not shorn

The feathered ones were drawn into a place of there.

Maggots no more the mass impulsed without care.

Further off the scene renewed all lost in gone.


Do not disturb rats with tenant fleas

With such as Vulcan's insurrections;

For fleas will yield their raty trousseaus

Enabling purple, lymphatic buboes.

The moon arose and then it
sank

His smile abstained, its
nostrils closed

Horrid were his pallid features

Fatigued by poetic rhymes imposed.

The truck danced free and as
it lifted to furthest reaches drifted

Atop the cab a standing lad raised
his arm and gladly pointed. Saved!

Far to the left our eyes were
turned and all were kindly gifted

We appointed by the lad, a
trusty Tow Truck were anointed.

Truckers all of three excluding me joined in celebration

For they thought we were now
free, all the Tow could see.

The Fly I killed a joyous omen, all shouting, clung to me

'Abhor the fly when the
ancient one serves such sweet salvation!'

Weirdly drifting across the
chasm as collapsed in a fusion

Then we all did cheer 'The
truck is real, not illusion!'

A skeleton crew, not since
sagging flesh was lacking A Tow Truck

Not since naked bones danced
with staccato clacking -

There were only two!
Clustered on the hood were they sighted -

An atrocious crone, and a horror of lost gender blighted

Hissing oaths through teeth all missing, no false hopes
of kissing

Loved ones sore affrighted. Men fond songs singing,

From parched lips spittle flinging passed the
gaps to stringing,

The Sea Witch rolled twosome
dice, oft breathing on them twice,

Her tangled hair smelled more
of horse dung than sweetest female spice!

Dice she cast with sweeping
fist, to give birth to the brood!

When bony cubes ceased to
roll she moaned in rapture to suffice Hag on Tow

'I won! I won!' Long leering toward me in a
Demonic mood!

Grim faces my men seared
me with scalding, acid vice.

Her limbs of venous, vermes varicosities

Harrowed in furrowed mien of meanest animosities

Warned of histories of grim atrocities

Domiciles of most hellish bellicosities.

At once a gloom rendered on
our truck as dismay descended

After many daily routes we
shared a love untranscended

One fell to his knees and
then dropped flat, only his eyes did tell.

On my soul he cast a spell,
rowed by Charon deep into Hell!

One by one the others dropped
limp on the stained deck

Though seeming dead their
faces glowed with a hateful dread. Crew Members Die

Diffused in white of dead, faces merged on a single head.

Together did they
join into a tangled, lifeless wreck!

'Ancient Garbage Man you do
deceive and not my woes relieve!

You are quite mad, known
through forlorn grimace hints!

I cannot stand and hear streams of lies, please my trash retrieve!

I cannot waste ten dollars
time on a story worth five cents!'

Music allured of magic the poet's hand inspires

Poetic polish glows and echoes lasting human meanings

My words are common and spoken as my spirit tries Explanation!

Rhymes and tones to elude your need for demeaning lies.

The Tow Truck was of little use, the chains beyond repair.

Lift was bent, the hook quite plane, naught but baubles of despair

Sea Witch dancing on the hood did arouse in minds,

Licentious thoughts allured to hopeless, depraved entwines!

My mind was filled with
visions weird, was I alive or dead?

Odd thoughts ran through my
brain and sanity began to rot.

As knocks on my chamber door
at the behest of a blameless guest Delusion Arises

Aroused me from my narcotic
potions evoking unreal emotions.

Most reflective on
my morning stool

Waiting for my thoughts to bloom

Earthy aromas as narcotics fielded

Resolution of dilemmas captured

Seeking, seeking my daily rule.

I looked to heaven and the sea, opened and closed my eyes

I tried sweating and then
setting my eyes to distort the moon.

Then dreams of orphan curses
and two prayers enclosed in hearses

Was I in the world of other
men or the weirdly dreamy, Xanadu?

Unhappy in my mad illusions
from far distant, paper waves

Floated by a psychologic
tome, words, words such a lot to see,

I had not a jot to read, on
this most harsh and hopeless sea.

Words, words, everywhere but
not one inspired me.

I now consider wordy hints to
deliver me from all worldly woes

Counted on fingers and
toes. I would wander until demise

If not for the little,
helpful notes with records of my dreamy shows

Floating oft nearby - thoughtful flyspecks might devise..

And just as sudden as the
Demon had come upon the sway

Without mention of her intention
- just so she departed grim -

No proffer of a fair goodbye,
not fair kisses nor breathy hymn. Hag and Tow Leave

And thus I shouted, 'Good
riddance!' and tersely turned away.

A shadow of a vapor obtained of untold dimensions

Lost in the algebra of typology Fate of Sea Witch

Forming and fading cliques of neurology

Projected figment of transient, informative intentions.

Two days we sat marooned,
caught amid the dank monsoon

Each man thought of none but
to save himself from this vast spittoon.

The lovely maiden from far
off with eyes no pupil festoon

To our savior our crew did
gasp pleas from lovely, Felice Goon!

Not long after these thoughts
dissolved then beauty far exceeding,

Butterflies with vibrant
wings, and dragonflies as well

Bouncing over the paper
waves, in such joy my heart did swell

Never once from the scene was
their beauty dim receding.

On the deck and rigging,
swallow tails and spike tails alighted

Viceroys and tortoise shells,
hair streaks flashed an endless array

Cruisers red, red spotted
purples, monarch orange all were sighted Unspoiled Beauty

Flashing forms by us unknown,
none could turn his face away.

I must be wise and not press
praises near to worshipful excesses

As I describe the scene I
saw, soon it gave a surly caution

Not all humans in my ken give
all lovely forms caresses

Many see in gauzy wings and
spindly limbs most hideous abortion.

Viewing them for quite some
time, I gained renew

The tire once around my neck
obtained from the angry few

Dropped and rolled away to
sink into the ocean's stenches Recovery Begins

The holed tire worthless
without a patch and wrenches.

The air did cool as though a
magic tool evokes

A cloud of somber tint, a
shroud to soothe pangs of searing yokes

Upon my form since merciless
days, sweetest tears of rain!

I wandered about in circles
and then, assuaged of merest pain!

I sagged upon the deck a tiny
speck of Universe

My head rolled with a sigh; I
slowly fell, alone, so all alone!

Since childhood I have lived,
pondering the balms of verse

To obliterate my plaguing
cursers, or coerce them to atone!

In dream storms joined
and spent energies immense

I could not fathom what to
discern from tumultuous jagged flashes

Or their trailing crashes, I
vaguely thought of childhood clashes

Teachers earned, clocks
turned, a golden age lost to past tense.

Near fifteen stanzas tumbled
by, vividly I awoke and wondered

Where you were or when it
was, why attention always strayed?

Note the moon and sun,
slavishly they descended and ascended.

I must be at most a duty in
my passing lot, not to be condescended.

Time was thought of spirits
sought

As logic and its fruits were naught

With fancy's intoxicating
sessions

Visions grew to sense
impressions.

Imagination is to seek images
in sense impressions

Fancy finds memories stored,
and evokes new clad visions

Not careful in my present
state fusing these emissions Seeks Understanding

I was left without to aid
sensible decisions.

Mathematic to pragmatic common to fruitful symmetry

Metaphysic and mystic, identity to anonymity

Eluding sages of science do so callously dwell

Singing of the true and truest trues their voices cannot swell.

Reality is best observed

In scenes not within the human mind

What then is best conserved

Madness is what we find.

Now a crewman obtained the
cab and pressed the starter button.

Engine roared, science
abhorred, the gasoline all vacant.

And knowing less I confess,
wheels turned, and ruts were burned.

Our truck moved on, and I
have sworn a miracle happened.

Under our truck at great
depth, a phantom formed a bier,

Created a gaping maw and with
exertion in the extreme

Of vapor shimmers it was
composed not of him or her

The only spirits missing were
those of gasoline.

The truck moved on to the
North as by a compass guided

I cannot say in our present
state it was the way

Our crew would have decided.
With a sudden sway Truck Moved by Spirit

I lost my perch and my
visions all subsided.

Lest I forget I must recall
as I dreamed in slumberous dale

My fears allayed, for in the
sky I saw a calling crow

And heard a sweetly murmured
tone of the pentatonic scale

A thought passed through my
brain of all I must to know.

As I dreamed two voices spoke
as all visionaries know

One our sweetest Epoisses,
come at our behest.

Two was D'olivet of sweetest
charms her hair held in a bow. Beautiful Spirits

'Is this the man who killed
the fly while on a selfish quest?'

Epoisses said in reply, 'He it
is as you have said, his hair is red

Fiery spirit given, he
considers not what to do as rage is dire.

The fly was among my favorite
things, and I bemoan it dead.

He regrets the crime, but
suffers the spirit of the rotting mire.'

While I semi-slumbered there
on the deck, grievous so entranced

The Truck reared up its
frame, and sped across the extended main. Truck Moves

I was insensitive of fair
clouds or dark, torrential, sheets of rain.

Thus mysteries of the scene
became so wonderfully enhanced.

Epoisses moaned, 'The speed
increases, no compass guides its goal

Or progress over the
boundless main, I fear it will be destroyed

Before tomorrow morn; dark it
might be if a needful Sol

Be far worn, called upon
often to travel a poet's rhyme employed.

The wrathful spirit under
the boundless sea of trash inspired

The fly he killed. I fear she
will plague him this day and forever.

The creature's raptured buzz,
so altered as the wings grew tired

The spirit much adored, its
death or losing it inspired, 'No never!'

The truck has passed across
the vast expanse of wasted treasure

Thought to measure this vile
sin against demise of a mortal fly

Seemed a vain endeavor.
Vengeful spirits expressed their measure

In such folly's pleasure,
mortals doomed to cower in a swinish sty.

D'olivet and Epoisses now
leave the scene so late and soon.

The Garbage Man, a
glass-eyed Zombie

A jovial face now erased from the witness moon Spirits Leave

His garment soiled and tattered, ghostly hints of Abercrombie.

"I woke!" he exclaimed as
they left and true it seemed to him

If they had waited until he
rose another year would pass.

The truck would slow and they
would go at the spirit's whim

He would not endure their
pleas and would their needs harass.

My men were still on the
deck, dead as they could be, by vital

Spirits ghastly looks
sustained, these looks were aimed to kill.

The poor, poor moon again
appeared in their eyes did revile

Lack of patience these
scenes the poet's needs to fill.

The truck it slowed and
through the trash it mowed and I knew

My spell was broken! To that
effect not a word need be spoken.

A soothing breeze passed over
me and my hair was blown askew

A breeze caressed my
earthly form, it seemed a benevolent omen.

The truck moved on, and on
and on, and then the shore appeared!

There was the hill down which we
raced long so long ago!!

I spied Old Mac and his Shack
in there taking careful measure On Horizon!

Of all the junk, a Rose of Sharon, he prized precious treasure.

He kept of oddly things
appealing as 'cabbages and kings'.

These he did admire and did
not inquire of their worth

He did not seem to praise
money and monied things

As the source from which, of
course, all happiness springs.

My patient man in this story
old, you might find a bore

Asleep you fall if I recall
details all, and you will sound a snore.

I fear this goal most of all,
so I forestall, it is not on my menu.

Thus do not be harmed or
alarmed if I change the venue!

Where the soil appeared as we
neared our wondrous destination

Old Mac's cook pot on a make
shift stove oozed a tasty haze,

I called out to him and I called once more,
without hesitation.

Exertion caused a damp to form upon my brow as perspiration.

Clouds drifted across the sky
and brought the world to darken

Above the dead upon the deck
insubstantial forms did reign A Singing Group

Wondrous beautiful were they
and to their voices hearkened

Two tenors, baritone, a
bass, of harmony a single strain.

The tenors sang in high falsetto

The baritone of octaves mellow

The base with long, languorous tones

Sang dolorous moans and groans

Tenor roll jacket suits

Finished garb from Ancient Zoots

Stuffed cuffed on pegged pants

Shoes of toes from sharpest slants

Wide brimmed hats over heads minute

Long key chains hung off each belted waist.

Attention riveted, moved in withering haste

To ldolonic voice of Calloway: 'All reet! All root!'

Waved with wont to
sway in synchronous motions

Sibilant emotions borrowed of monophonic chants

Echoed off rafters of Apollo resonance devotions

Blended melodies of free
harmonies entranced.

Their voices dimmed a
growl was heard off upon the shore,

A trusty loader Old Mac
had sent our rescue to achieve. RESCUE!!

It rolled its wheels across
the grave of utensils once so dear

But now their single notion was to support our rescue's motion.

To my dismay the sea gave
way, the trunk sank in the trash

Cast overboard I was, my arms
thrown from my sides;

Floated on my back quite
helpless in the malodorous stew; Garbage Truck Sinks

Powerless any progress to
achieve my efforts did abandon.

The roaring Loader did
achieve the spot where I lay aggrieved,

It scooped me from the rancid
mire and brought me to the shore. "Saved!!"

To this day I do admire such
engines more and more

I love their strength far
exceeding that of any form conceived.

Old Mac now standing near his
shack looked at me in horror!

'Who is this so badly worn I once fondly did admire?

He is but a tattered remnant
of that brow so long ago

Who carefully kept his mien, and
brushed his matched attire?'

I did not stop and chat with
him, I could not see a goal

I walked on my way with an
uneasy sway of my ocean legs

Those I passed at the dump
egress thought me sore possessed. Man Leaves Dump

On and on I walked and I
talked with my inmost soul.

I walked and walked until the
events of late and soon were

Left so far behind, I must
conceive of something new

Beyond a Garbage Truck, but
then a voice within did stir

And all my thoughts of virtue
and despair were cast askew.

'You have not escaped the
penance for the death of my fly

Which you crushed without a
thought, an act I do decry!

You will now for long and
longer for this crime repent! Man Hears His Fate

You must wait until your
wails my anger does relent.'

Voices yielded plaintive tones

To insure i was not left alone

A vital source of new piled trash

For unscrupulous a source of cash.

A voice - 'Your truck is lost as I can see

A replacement you can buy from us!

Currency I see floating thus

Willed by you and bequeathed to me!

All I need is information

Without the slightest fact foundation

I will use in novelty

Leaving you in abject poverty.

Then I will sell your quotations

From your vocal cord vibrations

What will pass from you to me

What is known as identity.

A vehicle you are entrusted with brakes of mustard

Miles downward well adjusted, underside all rusted

All malfunctions will go unnoted

A heavy cost on the windshield posted.

When you have then upped and gone

You will have no cash undrawn

And of all your treasure you will be free

Leaving you in obscurity, nothing left for you to be.

'Here, there and everywhere
you will roam and recite

The story of your journey in
the Sea of Dump

And you must not a single
word omit as you were taught

If your freedom will be
bought or in Death you will slump!'

And so gentle customer who
blindly left your trashy bins

Down at the littered
roadside, without a thought of me or mine.

You will not see me any more,
for on a enchanted truck

I will travel far away and near until I see the awaited sign.

Forces of Natural Selection have raised flies to near perfection.

Humans who save all their ken would much perfected been

If they derived from trials of flies living in a garbage bin.

Even as each rotting bag squats in senseless dejection.

So, man of trash clearly be aware

The flies are marvelous creations

Well worth more valued reputations Spirit Decries Human Abuse

Compared to your own desecrations.

Humans own smug superiority

Self applied in human adoration

With rare exception ugly aberration

Known to all most base inferiority.

Multiplicity into Unity -

Unity into Multiplicity

Fusing "+" and "-" into "Zero"

"Zero into "+" and "-"

Inspired by a Hindu Hero.

The sign that I have achieved
salvation from a mortal sin

Killing a innocent creature
whose leg forms of one hundred genes

Whose history is of extended
time of three hundred million years

And I become the only one, 'Who would never hurt a fly!!'" Redemption?

"Your Old Buddy,

Whizbang!!"

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