Who am I?

A locked in corpse without a soul

Zombie that buys what the ads sell

[Working my ass off like a fool]

Leaving family, friends, meaning, all


While striving for salary, victory or rank

Not deeds that fill the void inside me,

Life has become so dull

What’s the purpose of my doing?

Perhaps not doing would do more

Just being — the mind, body and soul


When a robotic job feeds bellies

But I do not find expressing

That potential I smell,

Breath in and out

My own talent,

Open my heart to 

What fills it with genuine will


Society and culture dictate what is wrong

The right way of living is the vogue of changing time

Ruling with the sticks of shame

Typing out the script of my world

I tear it apart and now I write my own

Watch or ignore me


With gratitude to the powerful, freed rulers

The independent human.

The Independent Human soul searching The Independent Human.

in this zeitgeist

The poem above contrasts the generational attitudes towards work as I witness on daily basis encountering people of various backgrounds, age groups and vocations. It is a global phenomenon I have noticed unwrapping already before the pandemic.

I am extremely lucky and resolved in that I am doing what I love. I can also do it wherever I can focus. It is nevertheless not easy, but my drive with purpose and play with words render any essay or poem that I am currently working on a necessity, like breath. Still, I try to understand and empathise with my fellow others who also seek the best way to live and survive, while doing so with integrity, and better even, passion.

Increasingly, so does the generation Z and bellow in the age grouping sociologists made to reflect the rapidly shifting environment to which we must adapt. Some grew up with smartphones, others had to learn the tricks of tech in their high school, university, on the job or simply to communicate with others. Perhaps thanks to that clear vision we were — in the slowing the pace of our days during the pandemic — allowed to discover, that much of the under forty population in the so called developed world has a different attitude to work. Seeing the contrast with the robotising of our jobs, one cannot more rationally ponder other options. Can I do something not as dull, something that means a lot, not just a money-driven chore, even something fun like travel blogger or ‘influencer’ on the crowded social media scene?

2020 in optics means clear vision. As the recent, depleting years fogged our minds more than we like to admit, anger settled deep inside of some. While the “openness” and “transparency” of the internet promised wings to all, one shall be wary not be fooled by the virtual, but be grounded by the time-tested reality. What is true and what was artificially manicured, is harder to discern. The editing of our lives has become so easy. Seemingly under our individual control, yet the power to the people premise of democratising the public discourse online further stirred the chaos we rare in now.

Plus, the beats always find their way into the controlling machine fueled by the oil of power. Echoing George Orwell, our era is redefining how humanity is being organised, influenced and controlled via surveillance. In the name of ‘a safer world’ or simply for comfort. Our bodies ache from sitting too much over our computers, not from physical labour. This changing form of suffering that most living are subject to also affects the mind. The quality of life goes beyond physical. Yet, we have a choice, and it is found in that blossoming space within ourselves.

The Independent Human.poemThe Independent Human.poem

The Independent Human. poem was INSPIRED BY:

#empowerment #liberty #nothingness #soul

All I need is space, safety, to breathe, eat and clean water to get me through my days, living. My soul then finds its path, perhaps nothingness is what I need. Ceaseless, riding the race car on full speed, my engine eventually burns out. I may find my life more empty than full with all the action. One can only influence so much, but we have a choice and some control over what we do. I work regularly on increasing my awareness so I know where I am. It is a dedication I assume will take me where I shall be happy and fulfilled. This awareness is about reconnecting with yourself, maintaining your integrity.

The Independent Human in poetry

What I love about poetry is the creative freedom it gives me, how it teaches me, organically, to listen to the current moment, mood, song or the setting surrounding me. I take what is given from that moment of creative inspiration. Some call it a muse. While emotions flood into the stanzas, I am calm. Not voicing rationality, poetry goes beyond me, and sometimes I voice others’ feelings as I was told.

My poems are collages of collective consciousness, what I read, heart and associated with in the current stream of uncontrolled thoughts. That which comes out on the paper or through my keyboard is not my ego, but a pure, uncorrupt nectar I tapped on flowing out while nurturing each present moment of creation with sacred, silent space. By claiming that space in the day or night, I connect with something beautiful, beyond description. Perhaps only the compendium of my work can somewhat sum up that transcendental experience. Unlike prose, while one still needs to get into that magic flow, is rather more structured, ruled by grammar and syntax and marketability, poetry is still that heart thing, that pure humanity expressed through liberated words.

Who am I? A locked in corpse without a soulThe Independent Human.

While writing the poem I was:

Listening to Curse by Recoil — Bloodline

Watching Who am I? Locked in corpse without a soul. PHOTOS I TOOK IN BUXTON, UK IN 2011, Giacometti retrospective in Monaco 2021

Thinking of TheIndependentHuman.nothingness