Gary Beck

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Hunting

When Og arose in the morning
he did not wake up
to easy listening
on his digital alarm clock.
He did not put on camouflage
to blend in,
stay warm,
but left the cave
determined to find meat,
or the clan didn’t eat.
 
So when Joe citizen set out,
this was not lower class machismo
demonstrating
maybe he couldn’t kill the boss,
but he could take out frustration
with a high-powered, 30-06,
laser aimed, telescopic sight
on overmatched animals
who couldn’t shoot back
 
It was hard to miss
an unsuspecting deer
not evolved enough
to defend against
death from afar.
 
A young Masai
had to kill a lion,
only armed with a spear,
to become a warrior,
one of the fairest tests
between man and beast
throughout history.
 
There were still plenty of lions,
not too many Masai,
so the balance of nature
was not disrupted.
 
Before refrigeration,
preservation, canning,
greedy men killed more and more,
despite excessive waste
and threw away
what they could not eat,
perhaps driven to slaughter
by twisted natures.
 
Once, every bit of the animal
was used for survival
food, fat, fur, hide.
 
Then mighty hunters bloomed,
toxic growth destroying life,
and collected trophies,
heads, horns, entire bodies,
decorative elements
enhancing the castle
to molder on the walls,
relics of forgotten triumphs
over helpless creatures.
 
Then sport hunting began
and the heroic breed
shot anything that moved,
from far enough away
so there was no real danger,
just the illusion,
titillating
diminished psyches
who thought it sport
to shoot an elephant,
minding its own business
grazing in the distance.
 
The modern hunter,
catalog equipped,
dresses his five year old son
in identical camis,
gives him a bb gun,
then the great outdoorsman
leads them on the trail,
determined
to teach the young one
how to enjoy
the thrill of the kill
of diminishing species,
unable to protect themselves
from mindless assailants

Conquerors

The lust for conquest,
Mount Everest, Russia,
illness, disease,
the girl next door,
efforts expended
proportionately,
ravenous appetites
seldom sated.

Warriors

I move through the jungle
cautiously, stealthily,
alert for the slightest movement.
Body tense, spear poised,
I sniff the faint breeze
trying to pick up a scent,
sweat, meat, fear,
anything that reveals the foe.
A bush moves where it shouldn’t.
I raise my spear, aim, throw.
 
I move through the jungle,
cautiously, stealthily,
alert for the slightest movement.
Body tense, rifle poised,
I sniff the faint breeze
trying to pick up a scent,
sweat, cigarette, fear,
anything that reveals the foe.
A bush moves where it shouldn’t.
I raise my rifle, aim, fire.
 
My drone moves over the jungle
hopefully unobserved,
camera alert for movement.
Body tense, joystick firm,
I hover at 1500 feet
eager to pick up a trace.
A bush moves where it shouldn’t.
I aim a missile,
push a button, launch.
​

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Gary Beck's profile

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Proportionate Response  ☊

Some of us believe
a fib, a little white lie
is not a sin.
And if it’s done
in innocence
it’s not a grievous fault,
especially when
it’s meant to spare the feelings
of a sensitive loved one.

Yet others insist
the small lie
is the seed of deception
that grows into distortion,
propaganda, brain-washing.

So we use instructive adages,
‘Honesty is the best policy’,
‘It’s a sin to tell a lie’,
to teach youngsters
the value of truth,
despite our living
in a dishonest world. 
​

Path of Gain

Renunciation of desire
generates tranquility,
disrupted when demands
become overwhelming
for mindless participation
in the palace of acquisition,
treasures beckoning temptation
brandished by eunuchs of profit
vending seduction, slavery,
enchantment eliminated
in the chambers of wanting.
​

Dissolving Society

Hit and run drivers
proliferate,
weapons
of singular destruction.
 
Shooting rampages
escalate,
outbursts
of unregulated rage.
 
Drive-bys
accelerate,
breakdowns
of domestic tranquility.
 
Foreign affairs
dominate,
showcases
for Generals and diplomats.
​

Privilege

The last days of summer
flicker hot and cool
hinting of winter.
Tickles of flying south
make the birds grow new feathers.
Leaves begin to fall
quickly collected
by busy men
unwilling to nourish the earth.
Homeowners fill their heaters.
Even household pets,
long subtracted from nature,
grow more fur.
Pleasures are departing
except for the wealthy
who sail away
and purchase warm weather.​
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Long Pent

Confined to my cell
in the dark prison
of my heart,
I endured for lifetimes,
each day an anguish
unrelieved by hope
early extinguished
by daily beatings.
 
I could not escape
relentless assault
that banished my soul,
devoured my dreams.
 
Then my daughter was born.
In the bright discovery
of an unblemished life
I was regenerated,
rejoined humanity
in a flood of feelings
that melted the bars
that kept me in isolation.
 
Love entered my heart,
demanding an end
to bitter exile.
​

Passage

Following a hidden path
without footprints, breadcrumbs,
trailmarkers, scars of passage,
guidelines for the lost
proceeding on blind faith
an uncharted way
that must be navigated,
conditions of journey
determined by fate, chance,
ineffectual intervention
affecting circumstance
appraised in transit,
resolved on arrival.
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