Amidst flux and impermanence

Amid the flux and impermanence of the commercialised, globalised metropolis,

the urgent challenge is to find soil in which one can be rooted,

the stability of being rooted or grounded in an erratic aesthetically, materially and symbolically unstable environment in which one faces a constant barrage of persuasive if not pervasive gestures and proposals which are designed in some way to appeal to our instincts of fear, hunger, identity & desire.

The task at hand is to seek out the means by which one can ground oneself, root oneself and ultimately guard the fragile human mind whose unconscious and vast depths are troubled, tempted and torn asunder in ways no campesino, no fellah, no farmer tolerate as their aching, sweating bodies endure a cycle of tasks the mind can meet whether on windy slopes or in midday heat!

Á ma Femme idéale

I cannot bring myself
to longingly gaze at you,
lest you then rightly
my company eschew.

How frightening to find
some men quite content
to never in licentiousness
and lustful glances relent.

I harbour a hope
that not by chance,
in one special moment
we’ll exchange a glance…

To be lost just then,
that is when it will be,
that I melt into you,
and you into me.

Poem XXI

When around me all becomes
When the lights flash
Colours more sickeningly
The pace picks up, movements
I long to be spirited away
by some divine wind,
only to find myself
upon thy breast,
exchanging soft whispers..
Ah till then…A test!

Bitterness, one of its forms

Bitterness, and the sweeping generalisations that spring forth from it can be understood as an unconscious response rooted in a person’s particular traumatic experience and a broader sense of powerlessness in life. The language of polarisation, of ‘us’ and ‘them’ is in reality a pitiful, inarticulate mode of convenient passive aggression. Still this means of channeling bitterness, this sense of inertia/impotence reveals something more profound about the human condition, fundamentally it reflects unconsciousness.

That is to say a soul that has never truly questioned itself, a person who makes a home in their sufferings and powerlessness, who is consoled by their condition, they cannot abstain from crushing others with their tongues, from killing the beautiful complexity of life which will always defy their categorisations, their essentialisations which they make in one fell swoop.

They are yet to actually engage in self-reflection, they have never become a question to themselves, merely existing…not yet born. One is truly born and (hence truly alive or conscious) in self-reflection, when one can properly refer to oneself, maturely, one’s actions, one’s past, one’s course in life, only then can you truly refer to others, and empathise with their unique, divergent experiences, without this we will are relegated to a bestial, cold mode of reference.