Not knowing what to look for weighs
scales against finding what I would
not likely recognise anyway –
feels like certain failure
Yet the money paid rests easy
in a bank’s ownership that fails
intelligence tests of what
I’d expect legitimacy to be
But stubbornness invades with
a brusque sense of ‘Yeah,
Screw the Establishment’
I’ll not give in yet
Examine ageing registers and there
vaguely familiar yet in cogent detail
Parcels of Shares I didn’t recognize
I ever really owned
But the quandary remains
how in all honesty can I represent
a me I never was and what
would the proof of it be?
The preamble says
He whose name bears witness on
these Certificates of Ownership
I am to prove I am
© 30 September 2009, I. D. Carswell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well, it sure is one up on Descartes. This is what I have missed; your flowing poetic thoughts almost as if in narrative, yet never so. t x