I find myself
Coming back to myself,
In the darkness of my room.
And I move the curtain
To let in the sun,
But the rain runs down.
I want to know
the world
For a lucid life,
For a vividness
Undiluted,
And understanding.
But I am in a cage
Of the ignorance of my surroundings-
Of the weaknesses of myself.
I don’t get out- going in,
Deeper, deeper,
I penetrate into hollowness
And emptiness,
That had seemed so full
From the outside.
Like love,
Another hope becomes a trap,
And collapses.
Should I do this?
Should I do that?
I sit alone,
And think.
What have I gained?
***
Perhaps I should take up entertainment
Or memorizing silly facts,
As if to prove
To myself
That there was no meaning-
The rest of the world is convinced.
Should I do what others want,
Should I know what others know,
Just because they might think me
Ignorant
Of trivia?
How trivial.
And yet,
The latest trivia question
Comes in through the screen-
It keeps out the bugs
Of a life unclean.
***
***
Whether love
Whether country
Whether hope,
Whether learning
Or the stars above,
There is too much
To be let down by,
And too much to see-
Unless you bear the wrongs
Light, and ignorantly.
But I cannot get out of my head
The memories,
The tales,
The texts,
Of some of the things that were better.
And history may save us
If we can read its warning.
***
***
I look to the past
So big and so vast,
And bright spots of light-
Eclipsing and lisping,
Into the night.
***
Routine holds me,
Constancy binds me.
Everything was so consistent
With urgencies here and there
Such a running pattern
That I never was aware
And the shadows of my hopes
And the thoughts of my lies
Were like the moonbeam,
Gilding the tides.
And when I tried to find
A way to undo the trap,
The shadows of my dreams
Were like the dim sun
On a factory’s gears
Catching the workers’ jackets
And smocks
And the tips of their ears
As they turn away
From the windows
And turn
From the light of day
And turn their eyes
To their work.
***
***
Why are so many people clueless,
Careless,
Regardless?
The saccharines,
The sweets,
The celluloid,
And plastic
Molding thin.
The aging, the Botox,
Inexpressive,
And yet, sort of nice-
But a little sad, too.
To work on looks,
When life and books
Are being sacrificed
On TV.
Rotting comes,
Quietly,
Under the white noise
Of that rat-a-tatta-tat-tat
Tattoo of the musical productions
And the rocker’s groove.
Problems arise,
But our thighs are busy
With laser surgery-
To remove the hair,
That we don’t want there,
So we are too glitzy to mind,
About elsewhere, or right,
Or care.
Artificial bodies
Have the spotlight,
But they are without truth
Or beauty
In the minds they try to hide,
And they smile vapidly-
As the world crumbles within,
And outside.
The lying reflections
Of the looking glasses
Of others' eyes-
They bear telephone games
Of bouncing lights,
With wasted riches,
And forgotten rights.
Spoilt youth,
Fashion sprees,
With false labors,
And artificial ease;
Of credit cards,
And gels for the hair,
Proof of money to burn,
And cares to spare.
***
***
There is joy,
And there is hope,
But I do not understand why
Or how.
I look to the sky,
And I see the stars of me
Looking back,
With ecstasy.
A heart of love,
Clouds above,
And somewhere,
The truth to stay.
And there I be,
Hurt but free,
Knowing more,
And I soar.
Because
Above the ways I traverse,
There is a noble contradiction-
Reverse.
I must abide opposition
Because it is all of me,
And in the sky
A mirror.
My weakness is legion,
Yet I am free.
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