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
Copyright © Kai Michael Neumann | Year Posted 2016
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