Fleet of foot, we rose up on new legs
And crawled from the ocean,
Found caves by the shore more secure,
But ambitious, precocious, we wanted more.
Overtaking the bones of dinosaurs
Forging weapons of our bodies
We set out to outsmart competition
Surpass them with strength and speed.
It was not easy. Some fell early
To malnutrition; attrition rate high,
But we were stubborn, focused;
Too intent on growth to die.
Hurdled germs on our own terms
Through the darker ages, lettered pages
To illuminate and illustrate
Our superior ways, our mind, our fate.
When prayer for days fell out of fashion,
Revolution wrought new passion
Choosing sides and burning towns:
Spoils to victors, death to clowns.
Bloodied our hands in War and Peace
With the drawing of borders and global police
Such inventive solutions to building new homes
That we thought we were Gods, not flesh and bones.
And now we have entered a digital age
We find new forms of life engaged
In fights for supremacy, violent rage
Evolved to the glare of a flickering page.
But we haven’t forgotten our primitive roots
For one, in anger, aims and shoots
To rid this world of other tribes
Ensuring only “ours” survives.
Anger, Black Death, Bodies, Book of Days, Charlie Hebdo, Civil War, Competition, Conceit, Dark Ages, Death, Digital Age, Dinosaurs, Dominance, Evolution, Expansion, Fate, Genocide, Germ warfare, growth, Hubris, Human Race, Illuminated Manuscripts, Lebensraum, Life, Peace, Plague, Poetry, Prayer, Progress, Publishing, Racial hatred, Racism, Rage, Religion, Revolution, Spoils, superior, Supremacy, Terrorism, Tribal, Victory, Violence, War, weapons, Winner, Written word
Jan · 15
Let me not feel more than may be borne
For others’ troubles, cares and strife.
I am too young to be thus forlorn,
Too old to hope; to love; to wife.
Give me but coin, my span on Earth
And lend me not another’s fear;
(I’ve precious little left of worth
Still less to broker bargains here).
I promise, but to do my best
And nothing more may take from me
Those greedy souls, whose “Fie!” on rest
Would wrest what time I, false, term ‘free’.
I cannot speak, but as I find
All else would be as empty air
What use, my hand, my heart, or mind
When weighed against such meaty fare?
And fair or foul as all may be
At moments suited to their mood
I can no more deceive than see
Through blackest darkness; I’ll be good.
Ambition, bargain, coin, contradictions, dark, empty, false, Fear, forlorn, Hope, hopeless, light, Marriage, mercenary, paradigm, Poetry, Poverty, Prayer, promise, Sadness, secular, Shakespeare, time, truth, Work
Jul · 28
Mon père, qui m’a donné de vie
Je vous demande plus rien
Mais la possibilité de le vivre
Sans interruption, sans me plaindre.
Je manquerai des choses –
La détresse, la douleur –
Ce sont des dons particuliers
– gardez-les pour toujours
Et je garderai ma joie
Ma félicité, mes sourires
Contre ceux qui me voudront
Faire pleurer – gardez mes larmes
Tout va déjà si bien
Je n’ai pas d’envie de changements.
Felicity, French, gifts, happiness, Joy, Life, Poetry, Prayer, Sadness, Smiles, tears
Jul · 11