Desire & Idea

Forever out of reach
it exists as if,
            born blind
they presented you with
an audio description
of a visual medium;

permanent distance, something
            missing,
no way
of knowing
how to affect the movement.

The desire exists
but the idea resists,
a furious rebellion
against simplicity,
            insisting on
misunderstanding, infested
potential
& perpetual ambiguity,

like the painful birth of conjoined twins,
who grow to want nothing more than
to love & be loved,
                beautiful & ugly,

                            just like us.

Questions


Is belief in
the sentiment of love & of
revolution

a contradiction between
singular & universal:

must one sacrifice the other
            or
is the distinction no more than
a mistaken understanding?

To what extent
are the things that we say & do
beyond our control?

Even though
            the choice to say “No”
is always present,
            radical freedom
co-exists with
profound dependency upon others*,

how can biological compulsion
override the tide of cause & effect:

how can the immaterial
change the course of material consequence?

& do these simple questions
really matter,
            because
ultimately

we are forced to exist.





* Simone de Beauvoir – Pyrrhus and Cinéas

The Damned

Consider that colour is given to us
in plentitude
from games played by light &,

that the liquidity of water is
a feature of a particular performance
between specific particles
bonding with each other
                        & yet
no individual actor has
the property of ‘being wet’.

What does that mean to you?

If it means nothing,
congratulations:

you can thrive in this world, but
if you strove to find any semblance
of pattern
        or symbol,

you’re fucked.

The Cave

Those shadows on the cave wall, distorted,
            contorted,
grotesque & tall,
they aren’t shadows at all.
Only mutated shapes;
circus images permeating
            fluid;

another trick of a sick mind.

Don’t take it too seriously
            but if you
listen too closely to the sounds
they start to drift &
            float around
without direction, detached from meaning.

Don’t be ashamed
for acting from the purest of instincts:

fight or flight is joined by frozen
fright as well; belief is
            necessary
& to believe in what you see
is so natural it almost
seems like blasphemy not
            to just
let it happen.

What we can see

From fetus to a handful of ashes;
 
a brief flicker of light in the darkness;
the thread of our existence,
helplessly passing from past to future;

contingent filaments entwined
within the infinite:

Just another story,
another way to escape the boring
fact that our lives are only defined by
what we can see…

but our eyes weren’t designed,
just like everything else.

We will never see the infinity.