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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The idea is to... steep oneself in panacea scriptures when times seem too unbearable irretrievable finding solace in public place pageants waving papier mâché penants but not lingering too long in the cowed comfort of feeling blameless take courage then and return to this tortured blighted ephemeral existence How else may you live knowing nothing of what lies beyond bad enough while we’re here too many things to worry about time to get up the effort to sleep long enough remember not long ago about four hundred million years ago there were but twenty-two hours to the day did the cavemen then sleep two hours less than we who see through our cataract lids the catharsis of the late-night Tolkien saga the cleaning the endless cleaning to stay the smell the dirt the germs the endless spliced and spiced nourishment for the body the brain the damned boredom to look out for those we put on this earth for those who put us on this uni-directional road and for that to strain to study find a job and climb on slippery backs to scale heights of O far too late comfort that would give us a name fame be looked upon liked loved cherished admired glorified followed remembered deified by seven-day wonder blighters fight for what is proclaimed Right for the race for the nation for the class caste community lay down our lives for the faith for our founding-fathers mutilated families who may choose to be born chooses to die the idea then is to seek relief for as long as the cure us sustains and return to the fight to our diurnal plight and hope in another four-hundred million years we would evolve into highrise cavemen needing no sleep nor faith nor bonds of bloodied brotherhood nor food nor sadist sex nor thoughts of selfhood beings evolved beyond the gods their descendants our forefathers handed down to us though on the way we may have laid waste wreaked havoc with the contours on this ekedout earth and all that stood in the way of our will not to hold back yet another monstrous bigoted world July 2, 1997 From the privately pub. coll. (rev. 2016) : longhand notes (a binding of poems), 1999, 115p. © T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
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