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i. on the eve of the beginning we swam in the vast nothingness of an eternal now spellbound in the sea of retrograde amnesia born into a plague & primed by spacetime abstractions ripped out of childlike purity & morphed into a disfigured automaton species stalking the asphalt planes of the panopticon with heads hung by the burden of dim lit distractions tailored for the livestock subscribed to the web shaped shackles at the foot of life's lonely mountain the summit appears to rise & disappear unscalable the snowcaps melts into the heavens ii. 18 years of mapping the blank trackless pages in my own odyssey - a journey of expanding cartography in the desolate wilderness of poetry & 21st century philosophy - beyond the walls & platonic disfigured forms my scourge is housebound periodic slants in discourtesy by my menage - in between motherly love & a motherly nudge i'm half-shoved from my novel-aspiration-shaped nest being served batch after batch of freshly baked best-interest flavored advice "join ben-dod in the finance game" before reluctantly accepting with a patronizing "im yirtzeh hashem". a classic case of family tree suffering - struck by a bout of root rot. deep sigh in mantra slow sigh out {mechanical cogs act as dials on the dashboard of perception yet the observer lies unbound in the realm of the transcendental} iii. starring out the window watching birds flutter in a mating dance my gaze collapses drifting out of the frame & into an internal debate to which i'm a spectator? are we three, i wonder... both participant(s) & mediator in the puzzling di(tri)alogue centered on 'for' & 'against' a trip to the barber for a haircut while the voices ramble on inside my fragmented mind i let my attention step outside taking flight with the ***** dancing budgies running my hand though my hair turning cold what if i start balding? on a seesaw swaying from 'greatest hit haircuts' highlight reels to visions of the shiniest chrome dome in the city lost... blooming sunny weather lost... iv. both long-hand & short-hand revolve in an infinite circuit high-brow & low-brow hands all pointed at the gyrating face who is the author of my dreams & he who visits me when i am engulfed by the busy swarm of creativity mystical genie who appears from his cave shaping syllables & words out of the buzzing humdrum clear as black ink on a white page... it streams out of my hand at a rate which i cling to as i am whisked through that flower garden of poetry v. Q. answer Fermi's paradox :: ~ we are the aliens
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Mar 5
Mar 5, 2026 at 7:18 PM UTC
The Age of Alienation & other poems by the 'Book Burning, Gun Slinging Society'
i. on the eve of the beginning we swam in the vast nothingness of an eternal now spellbound in the sea of retrograde amnesia born into a plague & primed by spacetime abstractions ripped out of childlike purity & morphed into a disfigured automaton species stalking the asphalt planes of the panopticon with heads hung by the burden of dim lit distractions tailored for the livestock subscribed to the web shaped shackles at the foot of life's lonely mountain the summit appears to rise & disappear unscalable the snowcaps melts into the heavens ii. 18 years of mapping the blank trackless pages in my own odyssey - a journey of expanding cartography in the desolate wilderness of poetry & 21st century philosophy - beyond the walls & platonic disfigured forms my scourge is housebound periodic slants in discourtesy by my menage - in between motherly love & a motherly nudge i'm half-shoved from my novel-aspiration-shaped nest being served batch after batch of freshly baked best-interest flavored advice "join ben-dod in the finance game" before reluctantly accepting with a patronizing "im yirtzeh hashem". a classic case of family tree suffering - struck by a bout of root rot. deep sigh in mantra slow sigh out {mechanical cogs act as dials on the dashboard of perception yet the observer lies unbound in the realm of the transcendental} iii. starring out the window watching birds flutter in a mating dance my gaze collapses drifting out of the frame & into an internal debate to which i'm a spectator? are we three, i wonder... both participant(s) & mediator in the puzzling di(tri)alogue centered on 'for' & 'against' a trip to the barber for a haircut while the voices ramble on inside my fragmented mind i let my attention step outside taking flight with the ***** dancing budgies running my hand though my hair turning cold what if i start balding? on a seesaw swaying from 'greatest hit haircuts' highlight reels to visions of the shiniest chrome dome in the city lost... blooming sunny weather lost... iv. both long-hand & short-hand revolve in an infinite circuit high-brow & low-brow hands all pointed at the gyrating face who is the author of my dreams & he who visits me when i am engulfed by the busy swarm of creativity mystical genie who appears from his cave shaping syllables & words out of the buzzing humdrum clear as black ink on a white page... it streams out of my hand at a rate which i cling to as i am whisked through that flower garden of poetry v. Q. answer Fermi's paradox :: ~ we are the aliens
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Rob_Bruwer
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Rob_Bruwer
Cape Town
Mar 5
Mar 5, 2026 at 7:18 PM UTC
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