Poetic Applesauce (ish.ii)

The Confusion of Being

I woke up today in a jungle,
Miles away from my normal struggle.
I woke up today wondering what I had to do.
Working hard I want to establish my self,
As a permanent fixture on the recognition shelf.
I work until the end of each day of the week,
To achieve a status that all dogs seek.
Consumerism my way, status my goal,
Organic humanism lost, that’s modernity’s toll.
I woke up today in the jungle.
I look outside my window deliriously,
Wondering where is my normal tree

Stepped outside to a dim green light,
Urban canopy stretched high, their leaves twined tight.
The smell distracts me from any worry.
Want to explore, understand what I’ve stumbled upon,
Don’t know where I am, but of this place I’ve grown fond.
I knew once I stepped outside my door,
That I never want to return to what I knew before.
The seductive smells of this new yet familiar space,
Bog down ideology; give pursuit a new face.
Stepped outside to an eternal love.
Decide to stay, in the jungle I trust.
Your power over me is monstrous.

I worry though,
About what we’ve have come to know,
If we decide to be only each other’s purpose
Is this how it should be,
Soulmates removed from society.
Love deciding our course, our path,
Free from culture’s contextual wrath.
What If you were supposed to be rich?
What if you were to be a systematic bitch?
Love can cost us a valuable thing
Should I strive for wealth, should I commit to community?
I worry though, what forms one’s ontology.

Confusion set in, in need of a revelation
The answer is no secret, real decided by representation.
All that is known to one, constructed by others.
Choose Catholicism as the basis for morality.
You can escape from conflict with ecstasy.
Remember that time you saw him do that,
Want rejection? Let yourself go fat.
Originality is now ubiquitous,
Options for "reality" feel the Dementor’s kiss
Grand narratives disseminate and form every thought.
The unique self is incarcerated,
For occidental life is now forever simulated.

All those to which I have known,
Shallow shells of self, creators of clones
What do I really want?
Between my jungle and ideology and I am torn
What part of life should I scorn?
The jungle be my kingdom come
While cultural dogma beats obligatory drums.
Rejection of hereditary hierarchy,
Effects more than my jungle and me,
But then the decision is not mine
The jungle for me, I’ve made up my mind.
Who needs utopia, when love is blind!

posted by mr. tomas ubik @ Wednesday, May 04, 2005