Title: Whip Post by: Eja on February 15, 2007, 10:23:11 AM In the blink of an eye
while the rest of creation rested the collective Eye In the time it took to momentarily shade the light of that primal I Mankind emerged Was all the vainglory inherent? (the instinct to despoil devour and declaim privilege) I ask Were those proclivities born within that moment while the light rested? Tell me Did one from the unseen impulses that hold dominion in times like this create this being? (as a means of enfleshment) Or were these instincts developed (like stone turning to sand) along the way? What expression of nature is the cannibal soul of this creature? The shark we use to speak of bottomless hungers The wind to speak of uncompromising freedom And after that self-delusion (civilization) is discarded What is this mankind? (what are you?) We recoil in horror at relics of monstrous histories Yet even now within these civilized bowels viral elements of future barbarism are eating thier weight in restraint And awaiting the day when thier appetites will dictate what is in good taste This foolish teacher they call 'civilization' rests his power on the assumption that a higher morality is inherent in the society born from his manufactured womb The truth our Father Time will reveal is how it is the collective memory of past practices (yesterday's barbarisms) and thier consequences (those long starless nights when moon hid her face covered her eye) Those rememberances make a resumption of certain activities repugnant But knowledge without overstanding is like rain on desert sands So the children speak of how grandfather lost an eye even as they play with the same sharp object that was taken from the ancient's ruined eye socket Slavery oh you who love cannibalism mountains of skulls gardens of bone I wish it were true that eyes will never see such as you again But I know better I too have heard the crack of the whip that drives mankind backwards and downwards even as they speak of 'progress' That delight given you at the moment of birth That which gave you an unfulfillably sweet tooth That bliss which turned into a vengeful yearning for paradise A force within that turns some into hunters of the obscure The voice that grips like a vice but sweetly like male clapsed by female promising heaven Paradise through technology religion heaven by virtue of conquest sanctified by supremacy of culture Is it real? This hunger for the paradise we left behind which is not lost (we are told) but only obscured Voices speak to our hearts in deep sleep and to all our senses at all times Here are bridges we are surrounded by bridges From here across the chasm of opaque memories to what we need But remove the mind's eye from butterflies, from trees and the cool steady breeze that transports thier essence Then you might see the vultures circling above You might sense The sharks in the wind thier nature obscured by the twilight You might see monkeys ripping meat chunks off each other "Brother!" you heard the one scream just before the flesh was ripped from his throat And laughter. Then I remember innocence is another word for easily erased memories Innocence a thing we see best in the newly made and on the dead This last I remember is also paradise which is why we left paradise Because we desired mercy and there was none in Heaven No second chances no other destination In Heaven we knew if you slipped it was a long fall and if you fell you broke your neck We desired mercy but there was none in Heaven So we left we followed one ndombe Him Far ahead of us so far that all we saw of his light was a little flicker but his voice spoke loud and clear to all our senses at all times Yet had we been close enough we would have noticed how this light had no heat and how the only thing illuminated was this ndombe himself We would have noticed that the only destination was wherever this ndombe himself stood at a given moment We would have realised that this journey has no other destination than wherever this ndombe himself stands at any given moment Then we may have looked around and recognised the hungry darkness around this cold light and we may have realised what manner of Day we gave up for this endless night. |