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.
Perhaps this poem expresses some of that anger sadly circumnavigating our decisions and actions nowadays. 2020 in optics means clear vision. As the recent years fogged our minds more than we like to admit, that angers us deep inside. While the “openness” and “transparency” of the internet promised wings to all, one shall not be fooled by the virtual, but be grounded by the time-tested reality. 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 organised and controlled by surveillance. All in the name of safer world. Some of our inner struggles with the outer reality today connect our common human toil, that changing form of suffering a living body is subject to, but the mind is not. We have a choice, and it is found in that blossoming space deep within.
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 will soon burn out. Eventually, I may find my life more empty than full with all that action that can do good or bad. One can only influence so much, but we have a choice and some control over what we do. Luckily, my awareness is vast, yet focused so I know where I am, which will take me where I shall be, happy and fulfilled.
The Independent Human. in poetry
What I love about poetry is this 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. While emotions flood into the stanzas, myself, deep, I am calm. Not voicing my opinions or how I currently feel, it goes beyond me, sometimes I voice others’ feelings. 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. By claiming that space in the day or night that whispered take me and give back, I connected with something beautiful, beyond description. Perhaps only the compendium of my work can somewhat sum up that transcendental. experience. I think that, unlike prose, structured, ruled by grammar and syntax, even more by marketability, poetry is still that heart thing, that pure humanity expressed through words.
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.nothing (NOT .com. .edu .org .info …)