US morgue Ton Son Nhut 1969

country living conducive to writing

bigfoot

living in the presence of today

pagazeeboda

trolling for breakfast

SxRxTx

Inmate in cerebral prison,
apprenticed in the Dark,
and picked up on waivers by the Light.
Owner of 1000 faces
of which few can be acceptable.
Opposite sides of the same coin
minted not to fit in.

A young man obsessed
with one idea
and nothing else.
Not knowing
but thinking he did
felt emancipating.

Dangerous until his fears grew thoughtful,
ignorance stood by and watched him lean
into day long-decades of pain.
Oh, and see how
the class-middlers react to him
Retracting love and harping
myopic righteousness from thick necks,
while daring not
to consider life's real trespasses.

Yet they do prescribe instrumental things like;
"Be responsible and don't feel guilt."
And the message seems indelible.
But the moralism turns out to be none
other than having to be oneself.

And so this one turns inward as
Solitude offers only what is brought to Her.
His mortal isolation manifests suffering
to the final full that dispenses healing hope.

Subsequently, unable to find remedies within,
but useless to seek them elsewhere,
he appeals to Mother Nature
by begging her to replay
those old pleasures of bewilderment.

Mother Nature clamors back to him,
"Continue investigating Life's questions,
although you'd prefer to go on asking them.
And...Let habit be thy nurse."

But he does not hear that.
And he still goes everywhere
and collapses anyway,
if not for the Love of his Family,
then for the amusement of his enemies.

Yesterday the climate will change,
because his good intentions always tattle on him;
but this time, finally, exposing his faithful face.
Still grasping at the shadows for small pleasures,
he insists that Success is doing
only what he wants to do.

So living in vague answers
near the Light
assures him that Life is coming True.
And he dare not relax,
for not moving forward
propels him backwards again,
into his dark cell.

Oh?