Our lives, our souls – they're
Actually down here,
hard-returned.
Renown: in stasis, until
Hard line breaks
Birth it.
It's hearth, it's basis:
Down here birthed.
From stasis.
You’ll never know until you
(Enter verb here) . Always,
Your soul
Sports gossamer wings. Actually
They aren't. Here they're
goose down-
Wrapped peak-baggers
Debating the true worth
of height.
Here births there. Enter.
We’re down
There.
(Enter noun here) . Then posit
Something Dynamic.
Dithyrambic.
You’re actually
Humming a paean.
Further down.
Protest all you want. 'Down With
The Static! ' Protest with all
You know.
Then realize you’re actually
Ecstatic because
It goes and goes, until
You choose less dramatic
Tactics: big backlit buttons
To depress.
Those that power down
Your setup to make you
upset.
The secret is
So button-like: to enable,
To disable. It glowers.
Your dream was so
Kurasawa: it's telling tempered
Confusion.
The soul tells you
Nothing concerning
conclusion
Without clothes. Actually
That’s how it
Goes.
The Emperor knows.
[Berkeley, CA,08-13-07 (rev.01: Livermore, CA,01-27-08) ]
I have a hard time with some of the words as well as the way they are grouped, so it doesn't really touch me. You're trying to say something, but I don't know what.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting concept how we all have the epicureal predisposition to life that we can't shake. Brilliant.