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Eyes glide down, mine, locked in gaze with the others

Those frozen immobile eyes, happy but dulled to the happiness

Endless endless, a thousand posts

A thousand pictures

A thousand smiles a thousand faces a thousand dreams a thousand thoughts, quelled

By the snap of the camera

And all I see is the sticky, stuck face in the stream of never ending happiness

In a world of never ending sorrow

I am a speck of dust person in a speck of dust era in a speck of dust world in this crumb of a universe.

Cradle me carry me I feel no joy

But I feel no sorrow either.

The light from my laptop has lanced and torn my brain

I feel nothing. I am a shell.

A mere skeleton, a piece of a whole.

A whole that’s just a big empty hole.

We all deserve to be burnt at the stake

Obliterated in a flash

Snuffed out. Gone.

But I can’t go and neither can you. We’re too comfortable, too afraid.

But yet we can never know true fear.

For our ancestors hacked it to pieces and replaced it with mere dull uncertainty.

And uncertainty is what chains us. Because we do not know

What lies ahead, and we must know

For after all we are the human race

What are we good for if not for knowing?

Or at least assuming to know?

Nobody or somebody?

Hunter gatherer or celebrity?

What defines us people?

Destruction or rebuilding?

Or destruction again?

Maybe all we are, are plastic faces in frozen glazed photos

In little plastic worlds like tents

 All pitched within a  magna civilization hanging on by a thread

Balancing precariously

To stay alive.

Constructive criticism is always welcome <3.

 

for the first post I just wanted to acquaint you all with the idea of what this blog is about. It is in no way a serious commercial blog but just serves as a casual creative outlet for a literarily inclined, overexcited third world teenager, with posts showcasing poetry, short stories, history, philosophy, art, fashion, music as well as photographs taken by yours truly. I am by no means a professional anything and so I apologise in advance for the rudimentary nature of my intellectual and creative prowess.
       There's no better way to begin new things than with a hint of poetry ( actually in retrospect I can think of a thousand better ways), so I thought I'd start this blog with a poem I had written a while ago. so sit back my little darlings and immerse yourself in the beauty of amateur poetry :).


                                             THE PLIGHT OF US POSTMODERN PUPPETS

Humans are the mighty race, the advanced

 Founders of modern thought and logic and fascism and apartheid.

Indeed we are strange creatures, buried in complexities

And bound with a never ending thirst for knowledge.

Oh, how the heart aches to know further!

Groans with an echoing chill,

But how can we ever be able to comprehend the world

When we cannot even understand ourselves?

We try, oh we do,

To bring peace to ourselves and become one with our souls

But our souls are but our minds and our brains a piece of flesh

That harsh judgement and crude opinions

Have shaped in a standard way

And we are all equally unremarkable, equally insane

Yet we feed our egos with delusions and become monarchs in our minds.

We pick up an accepted thought and regard it as the truth

And we laugh at opposition, scorn them, call them old fashioned

Like the many muttering old women who sit and pray with their beads of rosary

And face lash after lash of mocking contempt

From the modern world

Do they not know that atheism is the new trend?

And we deny, oh how we deny

That is our greatest talent, to shield ourselves from the unpleasant

Like how the blows of the western world

Are butchering the Islamic legacy

While we, the modern society, turn our gazes away

And celebrate the era of peace.

But there is peace! You jump up and cry

For after bloodless wars and globalisation

This century is a new era of civilisation

And us, the technological zombies

Have made it as peaceful as they come, more so than ever before

But you, person, with your Machiavellian mind

Are nothing but an opinion, a little squeal amongst a sea of others.

For we, the superior homo sapiens,

Have lived a thousand days and a thousand ways,

With a thousand opinions and a thousand thoughts,

And yet we leave behind nothing but a legacy of bloodshed and self destruction.

The ways of man are like a million piece jigsaw puzzle,

Never ending but ever useless.

And at one point there will come a time,

Like it does for all things, as is the way of the world,

Where we must dismantle that eternal puzzle,

And put it all back in the box.

 

 

 

Hope you liked it! Constructive criticism is always helpful :). Also I didn't draw the eye, it's just there for aesthetic purposes.

 

 

MUGISON - THE CHICKEN SONG