This is the 6th part of a 9 part series for the 10th Daughter of Memory, muse: Earnest Mockery.
The idiocy of the race
evidenced by decisions
so inept as to jeopardize symbiosis
and all subsequent life--
when a tree falls in the forest
and nobody is there to hear
will a watched pot
boil?
I can feel the struggle
the transmissions from away
that infiltrate, that change inaction
a daily incarceration of sloth
to fulfillment and progress
albeit an unknown destination.
Consider:
these hills, the fields and cities.
They're a comfort to me, a respite
from the wild mountains and majestic
towering pines—though beautiful—foreign.
And so,
to those from afar--
hands spanning the solar system--
a green leaf is
a creature unknown.
The blue lake a necessary hazard.
So when they question and seek
a simple truth, to me it tastes
like harsh criticism
an unholy derision aimed through
a telescope of singular parody into
my forehead, the substandard sloping
troglodytery feature of a lesser mortal.
I often wonder,
they may as well communicate with
a plant.
Even now they seem to mock
but the door swings only one way;
they are solitary and furtive.
While my human ego is bruised, I understand
they have no malice in their queries,
and question in generous solemnity.
Oh, they take so much,
but then they leave me with their plans
and my hands do the work of many
as they send strength
of mind
and of will.
For them one is many
for us one is one
and somehow I believe sincerely
they will abandon hell
far away
for a taste of heaven.
The idiocy of the race
evidenced by decisions
so inept as to jeopardize symbiosis
and all subsequent life--
when a tree falls in the forest
and nobody is there to hear
will a watched pot
boil?
I can feel the struggle
the transmissions from away
that infiltrate, that change inaction
a daily incarceration of sloth
to fulfillment and progress
albeit an unknown destination.
Consider:
these hills, the fields and cities.
They're a comfort to me, a respite
from the wild mountains and majestic
towering pines—though beautiful—foreign.
And so,
to those from afar--
hands spanning the solar system--
a green leaf is
a creature unknown.
The blue lake a necessary hazard.
So when they question and seek
a simple truth, to me it tastes
like harsh criticism
an unholy derision aimed through
a telescope of singular parody into
my forehead, the substandard sloping
troglodytery feature of a lesser mortal.
I often wonder,
they may as well communicate with
a plant.
Even now they seem to mock
but the door swings only one way;
they are solitary and furtive.
While my human ego is bruised, I understand
they have no malice in their queries,
and question in generous solemnity.
Oh, they take so much,
but then they leave me with their plans
and my hands do the work of many
as they send strength
of mind
and of will.
For them one is many
for us one is one
and somehow I believe sincerely
they will abandon hell
far away
for a taste of heaven.
12 comments:
"For them one is many"...sounds like our bloomin' management, it does! If I'm to do the work of five, I should at least be compensated accordingly, wot? Lot of thought in this work...yes....
hey Todd, don't you know that's the way the work force is now? Hire one person to do the job it used to take 5 to do, pay them less, give them cheaper, lower quality benefits, and they will thank you just for giving them a job. Oh, and consumers can't even complain about poor service anymore, because it's the new way of doing business.
Oh I know all that, Tom...but one can dream, can't one? Just got approved for the PCA job for my Mom $$$$, which will help a bit :)
Now if I can just put these books in some sort of order....
Don't know why, since I'm a bit lost (though not entirely)... but this one gave me chills.
Sweet.
abandon hell for a taste of heaven...nice.
more chills to come Jeff
Hey Sub, glad you are getting some kind of money for work you are already doing!
hey Brian...wouldn't that be nice? But guess what, there is a price to pay.
From the very first line of this, which I love, to the last, which is killer, this is a masterpiece of crafting the written word. Really, really well-done.
Tom, as jobs go, it (barely) pays th' bills but work is work. And would like to get at least one book out by year's end ( cue dream-type music... )
trust the Voice within rather than the noise without.
For them one is many
for us one is one
and somehow I believe sincerely
they will abandon hell
far away
for a taste of heaven.
Tom, I am stilled by these final words. Love the last lines, but all of them had me. I have never read anyone who writes like you do. What a find your blog is!
I feel like I'm in a Dali-esque dream.
Mad Hatter
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