Somehow I would like to live a life I am not really living
through my poetry. Because sometimes, I feel like I am
not really living at all. That this was some sample life, some
tester for me to understand something quintessentially fallen
about existence and life and what the world is like now. So I
have a challenge - to imagine what it was really supposed to be
like. Who was supposed to love me and who was I supposed to love.
What was supposed to happen for me to feel like this was my real
life, and not just this sample example consideration contemplation
field- circled around me for me to therethrough figure out what
I was truly supposed to live and who I was truly supposed to be.
Don't get me wrong. It is not that I don't think life is a good thing:
I do, I really do. I think life was and is an exceptional risk time took
on standing still, on being still, on conceiving of peace and so therefore
a kind of resting. Don't get me wrong, I think life was a force intent upon
harmony and peace and a kind of sensual confidence and certification: a
reality esteemed by feeling, and knowing, and so yes, by loving too. But
I am left with being a bit of a ridiculous conjecturer bordering on a hypothecal
scientist: that is a scientist who searches for answers as to what my life
was truly supposed to be like. Because I was not supposed to hate certain
people and feel caverns of excruciating loneliness and being thoroughly
misunderstood. I was not. Perhaps I am good at it, okay at it, sometimes.
But I doubt it was supposed to be what I was truly supposed to experience
about life. But somebody had to be cornered into it…huh? Somebody had to
take on that realm of theoretical existence and work through all its chaotic
psychosis and paranoid rage. And the truth about all that……that area of
existence that instigates instantaneous phobia and an almost innate capacity
towards cruelty that enables humans to ultimately understand themselves
strictly as animals. And then those people with severe superiority complexes:
they are really murder on the relativity of genetic evolution. They are vampires
of the unspoken, unadmitted social rules. And yes, they are painfully genius
at being something that they themselves would never admit to yet experience
as if being the wings of reality masterminding exactly what they need of whom,
whenever it is that they wish, however it is that they need it delivered, creating
reletivity robots to induce them into their superiority complex highs nearly
constantly and about everything. So this is not my real life. This is the one
wherein which I was given a taste of something, simply to use certain secrets
about me, perfectly manipulated, perfectly mechanized, perfectly mentally
enslaved to something that never admits to its needs but somehow always
figures out how to find them serviced and met and satisfied despite.
Figuring out life is the task of us all. Dear Julia, into insightfulness we see the dark reality. Great write.
I love how responsive you are to my poems. It means a lot to me- thanks for reading and responding!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It seems that our reality has been virtual for a long time. Maybe, poetry can be a pivot toward harmony because it slips away from over-literalized scenarios and lets our imaginative circuits fire in sheer exuberance.
Your optimistic comments are much appreciated!