It feels as if I have fallen into a deep trance, sleepwalking through life, as if nothing were real.
Feelings no longer have the power to persuade, even infatuate an old man like myself, endlessly meeting smart, witty women who play language games as well as the master of the house, sleeping inside his corpse before death steals his breath.
Answer me this question about love, to flatter slowly rotting corpse flesh with words of light banter...
in time, will it make sense, will I ever wake up from my childhood mistakes to reclaim my own life?
I cannot see beyond the fog before my eyes.
Humbly, I ask my wife for a divorce, the pain as we both inflicted on each other at will, virtue cannot prevail under these conditions, each to their own, we say, but the repercussions...
fail to awaken me, my spirit wanders, lost, aggrieved by the mistakes I continue to make, left alone for decades, perhaps this is the best, leave me without a stone to call my own, to love, even to cherish, found in my shoe, a pebble, nothing in this life means more than this grain of sand.
Unexpectedly, time pushes me off the cliff, never waiting for long, I learn to fly, to soar, endless days searching for wisdom over the sea, xenophilic delights, the love of the other, people dismiss this love as uncertain, unreal, enter the cave to hide, to find a deformed boy, created out of myths we cannot understand, taken literally as half bull and half man, even I see beyond the gibberish, the lies, deliberately hidden between the lines of verse, long overdue to read again, to interpret yet once more to seek truth beyond our ignorance.
Ignorance is not bliss, we forget the poem, neglect the source of truth for confusion and lies, take folly for wisdom, only to face ourselves in the mirror called mind...
as we describe our world and people as ourselves.
Delve deeper in the dark, hold the deformed child's hand, efface the ego, wipe away the young man's tears, enter the truth of mind, sweep aside the rubbish, ponder the vast ocean before you, down a deep...
whirlpool which tumbles me around so that I can humbly, ask God to stop the madness, my patience increases the level of acceptance I seek, revolving in circles around the gyroscope, lapping up the insight to see my condition, particularly well considering my place on the totem pole, climb the ladder if you can, on the other hand, watch others as they climb up leaving their friends behind, this we accept with joy...
without a doubt, except for the fact that bridges holding the rest of us aloft get burned, tumble into the freshwater, the river embraces children, mothers, husbands, swallows them all into hell, these fallen angels, burnt wings, singed, smouldering...
tragically lost to news reports that destroy life under the glare of lights, trying to find answers, mumbling something tragic only to segue with glee, brighter than a thousand suns at a heart patient, left to wait in her bed until Chance visits her, even I smile at hope when she receives the news, soon her transplant will take place and she can find joy...
mentoring other kids as they play basketball, even I smile through teeth clinched in cynicism.
Around now, memories hit me between the eyes, rolling my eyes back, up, inside my head, to see only red, like a bull, though bulls cannot see red, understand I make things up, I fudge the facts, for news is journalism, a story to be told, despite the narrative arc of the storyline.
Sadly to say, I am a poet who writes slant, others may judge my words, but I couldn't care less.
This is just a poem, get over it, your mind happens across these words, or another poem, as I write ceaselessly, to arrive at the truth, this truth is but my truth, find your own wave, baby.
I speak my mind freely, I do not mind if you...
cannot accept my words, my use of this language, accepted in childhood, as an immigrant son, no, I will not hold back, I will not cease, I can...
neither stand at bottom, nor swim up to the top, either the whirlpool eats me whole, or I survive, in either case, I lived, even for a moment, this is enough for me, I succeeded to death, however sad you think death appears in our minds, even I know nothing but this, death is certain, rejoice that life is won and lost on battlefields...
stake your claim on this life, your time is uncertain, take a moment to breathe, to enjoy the body, as you choose to kill it, slowly but surely, drown neatly in your whiskey, as I will in bourbon, drown in a haze of smoke, of cigarettes and weed...
on the bottom, you find God, deep in the darkness, nothingness is nothing but to philosophers.
Touch the invisible fish that swim in the depths, however long you stay is up to you and me, enticing isn't it, the bottom of the sea?
Bottom doesn't mean "rock bottom", unless it does, only you know, and I know what is rock bottom, touch your hand to the wall, does it feel real to you, tell me if you can't swim to the surface, we'll find other worlds to traverse, this is just a poem, make things up on the fly, am I still sleepwalking?
Nothing can stop us from rising to the surface, only pressure keeps us from rising to the top, reach the top rung and look down at everyone else...
Sink or swim, no option at the ocean bottom, win or lose, run the race, we always train to win, in the darkness, the light is dim inside the mind, maybe I can wake up and flip the switch to on?
Under circumstances out of my control, time pummeled me as a child, brought me here to this land.
Tranquil, shy and reserved, the boy learned to act out, on demand, negative attention, positive...
Trust fell by the way side, learn to mistrust, learn to hold others at distance, don't talk, don't trust, don't feel, everyone loves my dad, the dead alcoholic.
Tear up the blueprints, start over with my own plans, our own plans from the depths of the ocean bottom, plant a thousand seeds, grow ten trees, start again, start...
"It feels as if I have fallen unexpectedly into a deep whirlpool which tumbles me around so that I can neither stand on the bottom nor swim up to the top."
Second Meditation: "The nature of the human mind, and how it is better known than the body"
René Descartes
John Cottingham (Editor and Translator)
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