Contemptuousness Poem by Artchil Daug

I stopped receiving awards,
the moment receiving ended
a Rubik's cube, an almost unending
series of bad solutions to
the problem of meaning
in life, in living, in the cascading
episodes of wanting to want
to become the crest in the tide
of the jumpers in a zoo, outside
the city of hopes and ambitions
inside a syringe, a series
of immunizations to the social
constructs, set before me
by people still searching, looking
but never finding their lost
Shangri-La, the elusive fish
that trudged the river, only
after, the sun sets in the horizon.

But everyone is afraid of the dusk
so I stopped receiving awards, that
add only weight on my younger frame
in the coming night of searching
for that motion in the water.