Long Human condition Poems
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The absurdity of the human condition:
The only condition we try to make sense of,
Make reasonable,
Sanitized,
Certain,
Familiar,
When we know we can’t.
But still we love our categories,
As if life was a Christmas present
That we could neatly wrap
And put into boxes
Labeled “certainty”
But these labels soon break down,
Deconstruct,
Peeling off
Like bad adhesive,
Showing the naked truth:
That we are Odysseus,
Tossed about by the gods,
Armed with the illusion of control;
That we are Don Quixote
Forever fighting windmills
Indifferent to our moral quest;
That we are Hamlet,
Trapped within a cosmic play
Of uncertainty and death;
That we are Gatsby,
Reaching for the magic green light
That forever eludes our grasp;
That we are Sisyphus,
Vainly toiling with our rock,
Telling ourselves that we are happy;
And so we must forever fight
Our constant war against the world,
Embracing the faceless, empty void
With a warm and welcoming smile.
What on earth is more important than love
Don't think you can name me a single thing
It keeps the old world spinning round and round
That's the way it is, that's the way it has always been
Can you imagine a world without love
It's surely not somewhere I'd wanna be
Ship me off to the heavens to explore other worlds
This would no longer be home to me
Always been a lover, not a fighter
But I guess it's part of the human condition
Good or bad, agree or disagree, it's who we are
We are either happy and content with life
Or we're unhappy and hate the hand we've been dealt
Thankfully, I've been blessed and am in the former category
I live and love life to the fullest every single day
Each moment is precious, to be enjoyed
Our final day is a mystery, it's unknown to us
Sure wouldn't want to know that day anyway
Could you imagine the feeling of dread as it drew near
The days dwindling down, getting fewer and fewer
That's when love is most important
To be surrounded by caring family and friends
That's when we surely would know
The all importance of love
© Jack Ellison 2014
When history records a legacy, in its lengthy ledger towards mankind.
That scroll may simplify complexity, with common survival foremost in mind.
It's a theme that traces an origin, to the very beginning with no end.
While it explores the numerous frailties, exhausting great resources to spend.
Throughout time, many have seen the contradiction, as destruction failed renew
Though efforts were outweighed by volume, from the infrared to ultraviolet blue
This pattern can be seen from antiquity, while preceding to modern day.
As it pierces the veil of technology, only to twitter away any decay.
What is seen is a consuming desire, almost innate in the culture without regret.
Since extinction dare not be contemplated, that would be better to just forget.
Here what's left vacant is the day present, with a past and any future to ignore.
And while myopic in focus & understanding, the greed falls short to restore.
So as I sit on the sidelines in observation, noting the folly of humanities fate.
My viewpoint is occasionally interrupted, by a future that just can't wait.
He wears the cross upon his chest,
And speaks of heaven’s cure,
Yet turns the hand that ought to bless
To wield despair and death.
By dozens sent, they fall, they die,
Beneath his pious claim,
While God’s own life is swept aside,
And they live and bear no shame.
Can faith abide where blood is spilled,
Where mercy bows to might?
I do not know—but still I fear,
There, coming to the light.
For in the dark, their hands still try to reach,
Each soul now whispers true,
A fleeting thought, in quiet speech,
Breaks through the fecal stench the air.
Yet still I ask, with hard pressed dread,
Can we survive such sin?
I do not know, for they are wed
To hipprocracy and what inside it holds.
(“Outside Looking In Merit Badge”, 2011, original oil)
In a dream
The repeated pattern of my own conditioning
Like a Groundhog’s Day set on reset
Reveals to me the futility of the human condition
Habitually doing the same things
While expecting different results;
As Einstein said, THE definition of insanity.
Yet again and again we also wake
With at least the hope of sanity,
The freshness of not being habitually driven
Until we once again start to do
And the conditioning of all these lifetimes
Kicks in again, as we
Without thought, without effort
Take the easy path of least resistance.
(11/24/25)
If progress is the transformation of oppression,
And the human condition one of
Primordial oppression - due to the inherent limits of our physical, emotional and mental nature -
Then human progress has been with us all along,
Albeit in very human fits and starts.
So progress is liberty
And liberty, inherently progressive.
But that’s not the progress being pushed today.
The progress of 21st century America
Is one of greater authority,
Lesser autonomy,
As an all-knowing Nanny State
So compassionately helps us less knowing.
What is real progress?
Freedom, from the master/slave dynamic
Which has been the human lot from the beginning.
What is being done in the name of progress today?
The relationship of master and slave cemented
In not just custom and law,
But personal habits and ideals.
Thou shalt obey what your master tells you,
It’s in your DNA after all to follow the shepherd
For the greater good of the herd.
It doesn’t matter that the shepherd has changed,
It’s the nature of all religion.
Thou shalt obey,
Because obedience is next to godliness,
Especially the godliness of Marx’s
Anointed disciples, the masters
Of not only their destiny
But increasingly every slave’s as well.
Thou shalt obey,
Because some things - collective wellbeing,
Social justice, environmental stewardship -
Require individual sacrifice
For the greater security of the herd
And of course, the enshrined status of the master.
(9/4/26)
Demons
Ancient creatures of religious beliefs and superstition
Evilest of beings consuming all of the human condition
Depictions of blackest of eyes, winged, unholiest of bodies
Demonic in nature, all that is evil in this world it embodies
Feeding on greed, anger, hate, despair within all sorts of pain
An unquenchable thirst for the lust of man, darkness once again
Such an evil black grin, watching, waiting for yet another lost soul
Hidden within the deepest of shadows, once again taking his toll
Waiting in a different realm, strength drawn from evils that men do
Always seeking new disciples from the acts of violence, old and new
Greed, anger, pain is so easy for him to seek, since time once began
All these traits are within every soul, within the darkest heart of man
In the mirror of this world
I see a face that is not my own
A stranger,dripping tears of blood
And cast with impunity to the very depths of hell
Dwelling in the haunted shadows
Cursed to wander this accursed world alone
Forbidden to love,hate a name to be embraced
Lest you fall asunder in the bosom of a friend
The horrors of living oft in a void
Seeing the evils that man doth did alone
Flesh eat flesh,blood cast and trampled in mud
Power and fame,the price of one's soul to sell
The world, a place where evil grows
Birth to death birthing a cycle of woe
Preaching of godless men yet hearts unfazed
Man or fiend,both journey towards the same end
But is this all there is
Is the hope of men like burnt wood?
Is life a brutal endless cycle
That death is but a welcome reprieve?
Nay,but there is a cycle of love and peace
There is the end of all that is good
A greeting that ends with a smile
And a deed of which is hope revived.
Our final hour draws near
As the pillars of the earth
Are raised above the threshold
The human condition of primeval primitivity
It's tribal, and civilized devices
Our cherished, but brittle
and unstable societal constructs
Have been refined and pondered upon
By wisemen for a millennia
But they remain all the same
of gold and jewel hoarding merchant swine
Or the Lord of the land which still
Holds in his hand the peasant lives
have existed Since the days of Christ.
Fortunes and prestige was made
On backs of the slaves of man
No longer slaves of one color race or Creed
Be it the blindly led masses, or the ones
Who exist to fill a pair of Jack boots
To crush any who oppose the will of few
Imposed upon the liberty and lives of
the inumerable many
Kept in listless contention
like precious cattle cargo kept in comfort
In the moments before slaughter
No use for livestock who no longer can be soothed
By the noise of the static which has kept them subjugated
Slaves, by whatever name designated
As a product of which the era produces for them
Today still remained shackled
Even as they no longer have chains
To bind the spirit or flesh
The forgotten
Will not be extinguished
They writhe in ancestral rage
Their enemy oppressors
Shall be cleansed as pennance
In the fires of retribution
But the end will be swift
with coming winds of changes
Which will blow with the sands of time
Eroding the stone inscribed with the epitaph of humanity
"What hope could there be, for us, when the light that we possessed
Our compassion, the goodness of man,
is something learned and not inherent in our souls
And bring the torrent of uncivilized upheaval
Tearing us like weeds from their earthly respite
Grinding and rending us in our vessels
back into the soil and seas.
Relinquished to the warn embrace
of our celestial mothers womb
As she plants the cosmic seeds
Sowed in the brilliance of her aeons
And which grew the bountiful harvests
that fueled our creation
And let us to thrive
as we found our way
through a cruel,
but natural order of selection
The anomallic flux
In a fluid plasticity of
Biological machinations
Silly thoughts are filling my head
It's happening more often of late
Do you think I'm starting to lose it
Do all seniors suffer this fate
Nobody told me when I was young
That our mental capacities decline
To where we can't remember our name
Or can't do two things at a time
A sad ending to a productive life
Brimming with many successes
Not really how I thought it would end
Farting and making big messes
Guess we just need to laugh at it all
It's a part of the human condition
We really don't have much of a choice
So take pride in your musical emissions
Silly thoughts are filling my head
It's happening more often of late
Is this how my life is going to wind up
Do all seniors suffer this fate
© Jack Ellison 2013