Frustration

Frustration These days my frustration is digital in that `Brave New World' and I can count on two digits who is in and who is out and in that sense am quite binary dualistic in my sense of frustration dichotomous reliant polarised with a shibboleth splitting my virtue The internet does not work yet again in that world class City of Josy and my stream of consciousness leads me to moving out of my skin in resentful anger or just back to Europe or any other place where the grass is greener in any unrestricted case where its so green it shines purple psychedelic so to speak in my escapist boiling dreams desires fantasies of…what I ask Of course Aldous Huxley pertained his vision of brave and new to more important matters than not knowing how to survive when my internet fails he spoke of tramps and homeless and drew a connection from hegemony of the rich and the hunger and freezing exclusion of… Well half the globe’s population I suppose on less than two feral not federal dollars a day in sweat shops and war zones breaking old bricks and their backs sowing designer footballs and branded clothing and are branded by the lottery of their birth and demise And my net still does not work I am a dinosaur almost extinct cannot fix it and am privileged to operate if not quite app-arate yet somehow In a state of aberrant abnormal dysfunctional dis-longing conformed into dependence when my poetry cannot for a moment reach that global community most of which has better more vital needs than to read my unease with connections with the ephemeral ether Huxley spoke of classes of people designed for their purpose in laboratory’s breeding grounds no chips on their shoulders and maybe some chips in their brains happily chirping away liberated from the plights of possessions outsourcing capital to the haves Apartheid comes to mind ‘Lebensraum’ and marginalisation of class racial distinction gender sexual orientation and of how much we are steered by a modernity serving the few with knowledge and power sharing lip service a fig leaf attached to the curtains of wealth from the outside of dens in disguise of pseudo equality with the opium freely flowing for the masses Eureka and I almost shouted Ikea as I am caught up while slurping my Coke drink in subconscious consumption but the internet works now I am connected with the world again or with the illusion of what it might be deluded and rationalised up to the gills in my immanent problem of luxury and the desire to write a letter with ink on paper and send it with a pretty stamp not fragmented and not so virtually If I can find the strength to be honest and there is no honesty app so far other than my mind my frustration of being cut off from the world has possibly much more to do with what is happening when I trod off the treacherous path of self righteousness and take a short stroll into the township nearby and open my eyes and not that google window Thanks to the internet or rather its loss I can see much clearer for now 31st October 2016