04/19/2016  Entrenched in Existentialism 1:36

Fri, 05/27/2016 - 17:29 -- Calico

04/19/2016

 

 

Entrenched in Existentialism 1:36PM

 

Trying

Couldn’t say it’s a thorough effort

Still, this passive nature persists

This depressive tendency

Once the results left to shit

Come back in the wind

 

Once the purple veins burst

Unable to contain the blood of a degenerate

Once noble

And persistent

Once happy

And bright

Now nothing but a shadow

 

And for what reason?

Why does this plane seem so drab

Flavor of mildew

Writhing it’s way into my lungs

And onto taste buds

 

It is apparent

It is the vast caverns that shriek

From every corner

Of a chamber

Solace to a child

Living in a world

Noble efforts of others to make the best of the aberration

While the babe has yet to believe that things can be beautiful in all eyes

And if the cats that linger in shut up stoops do not recognize

The calamity of it all

That imp might well create the problem, all its own

That worm might see fit

Creating darkness

To have a balance

 

But what the bairn does not see

Is that those felines drape the sheets of lightness over all

To match that darkness which dwells within

To bring some stability

 

But that naive does not see

She does not find solace

In those who cannot express their darkness

And only choose to kill it

She cannot feel that way

 

So she wastes her hours

Devoted to stale thoughts

Forgetting she too is a tom

Who only wants a fresh morn

But has not lifted the lid of her bin for years, long enough

That the sky seems but a myth

 

That this poor kitten

Who is only sad in own eyes, the babe thinks,

Is yet witnessed by congregations

Of leaders

Of elders

Who all see the coiling darkness spreading through her veins

As she perches darkly

Entrenched in doubt

And addresses the cloudy confusion within her mind

Composes symphonies of bitter feeling and sends them off into the universe

 

She only does so

In the name of balance

Because the day before she walked in the sun

And bathed in a cool river

Now she seeks an hour alone

After a slumber

 

But why

Do we fail to see the hearts that dwell within the bones, meaty sacks we call our loved ones?

 

Or better phrased yet,

Recognize what causes the core to glow

 

But we do

I’m sure we all know

The dispute being: where do our needs clash with those of which we dwell?

Things that do not phase one

Do nothing short but summon a typhoon to the other’s doorstep

 

She knows she must change

Though, what is change, but following another’s drum beat??

 

ex·is·ten·tial·ism

ˌeɡzəˈsten(t)SHəˌlizəm/

noun

  1. a philosophical theory or approach that emphasizes the existence of the individual person as a free and responsible agent determining their own development through acts of the will.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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