Plotting a path out of the City, into The ForEST

 

This world…

of corporate demands,

smiles which end at the lips,

pandemic pandering,

war, war, more war,

The Machine spitting out manufactured FEAR from every virtual orifice,

and if not FEAR then OBEDIENCE to the scripted exchange of vapid.

LEFT or RIGHT?

Which part of the prescribed circle do you suggest where you find your sense of belonging and group think blind bigotry?

My happiest guises when naked wild and free in the tides, nature flowing through me, my imagined flippers and merman tail severed to become ghost limbs when back in what some call THE MATRIX, the echo chamber, the realm of 4d chess…where I become something else, close enough to acceptable to survive and play the potent piece of capital unable to mask my eagerness to play with words, which emerges an uncomfortable me, missing the marvel of always recent long hours spent absent of my own voice heard and trying to be herd…its ever primal, as my idea of art and simply natural connection of life to life should always be…not just human to human, but human to butterfly, moth to flame, bat to fig tree…

The finest poets of the cities and inner sanctum of SOCIETY I cannot lead a rebellion against so either accept or try to remove myself…rarely paint a pretty picture, no matter the timeline…

and when the wilderness of the poets living amongst the trees forges kinship and beats and rhymes with his counterpart pounding and abounding upon the streets of SOCIETY…

More punishing still, remove that poet of the ferns and shrubs, from singing with the wind, swimming with the weasels…to a prison of our city living manufacture and uneasy comfort…He just wants to get out. Is too calm to roar and rage, but the message is clear>>>

The friends he makes, no matter what risks he takes…for risks to him are speaking too loud when predators are nearby, beyond which climbing tree trunks, bathing in rivers…are of his poetry, yet so differently hardened and so much more vividly unhappy>>>

I relate to Pip, but have more mischief abounding, in shadows demanding the light, of wanderlust equally now caged and constrained…there is more love and desire and adventure still as powerful within me and related to the sensations I find when dancing naked in the ocean under the full moon. Its zeal, vitality, the spirit roaring onwards, ever onwards…

My spirit has more hunger than my mind has cynicism…Where is the heart??? It is there. Yet the world has taught me to become a vicious, wild animal…

Share with the world...