Musing Mortal Poem by Brent Kincaid

MUSING MORTAL

I walked around amused
And ultimately confused;
I was a human being there
Somewhere lost in a toy store
More like a toy land, it seemed
Something more dreamed
Than really lived
Where the toys had to give
But could not enjoy
And every word was a ploy
Rather than a thought or hope
Like junkies on dope
They were there for company
Not meant to be solace for me
But rather to keep me occupied.
It meant they lied.
They were not really toys
But spring-driven girls and boys
Programmed by a crowd
Allowed to walk and talk
But more like drawings of chalk
They didn't see I was lost.
They didn't know the cost
Of living unaware, unscared
Of how little they shared
With the other creatures.
They had human features
But they didn't know
What it was that made them go
And come and hope and pray.
There was no future day.

So, why did I wonder?
What was all this that was under
The playing and the sex
There had to be an under-text
To all this dialogue spoken.
Was some deity simply joking
And wiggling fingers
To make dancing marionettes
With nothing to forget
Or imagine or plan for?
It would be easy to ignore
Any threat of mortality
If you have no morality
Or aspirations or ambition.
Without any volition
Life gets pretty easy
Even gets rather breezy
Just zipping though a jog
After sleeping like a log
Then doing what is expected
Directed by noting more
Than an instinct like a snore
Or a sneeze, or a hiccup
Almost like they never wake up.

So, why couldn't I do it?
Just wander blindly through it
Saying the same things daily
Gaily waving at the faces
All the familiar places
I went yesterday and last year
Smiling from ear to ear
Immune to thoughts of heaven
Seventh or any other level
Unaware of any kind of devil
Like an evil Santa Claus
Counting out invalidated clauses
In some unwritten document
Signed without my consent
That punished me for thinking
Even when the boat was sinking
And I was drowning in ugly wonder
Going under. Was it the last time?
Or is it that I'm just insane?
Too much crazy to maintain?

Some wandering shadows
Had murmured to me of meadows
Of serenity and serendipity
Available through religion
If I would become the pigeon
Of a televangelist or bishop
But, this felt like another hiccup
So, I was not encouraged
The lack of answers discouraged me
No booming voice answered me
Telling me he was god
And that I was not odd
Just lost and wandering.
So, I was still blundering.
I prayed for enlightenment
To know what enlighten meant.
But it is like trying to look
Inside your eyes like a book
You can read, but you can't.
You can rant and rave,
But all you see is outward that way.
So one more exploration flew away
Without giving me some answer.
I felt I would be this way forever.

That's when I decided
My soul had been divided.
I wanted to please others
Who couldn't get it together
And really had no answers
They were just social dancers
Who took the fairy tales
And plaques from garage sales
As words of wisdom for life
Like the horoscope for the housewife
In tabloids at checkout stands;
Words for those who don't understand
And, don't really want to
Or don't feel they need to.
So, I had to look inside
Discover the divide.
I started with what I did not like
And told that to take a hike
Then began to become certain
Of which one of the curtains
I wanted Monty Hall to open
To discover what I was hoping
Would be my worthwhile cause.
And it was.

Brent Kincaid
12/22/2012