Poem
I haven’t been writing much poetry recently, but let me share one I wrote a month or so ago. I don't know about you but I often get a sense of how weird all the normal commonplace things are, that a lot of the things we take for granted are actually totally strange. It's not a disorientating
feeling, but quite a pleasant one. I wrote a poem to try to describe the feeling:
The Facts of Life
I still can’t get over the fact
that human beings must take off clothes, lie down
and surrender to unconsciousness
for several hours every
night
that all over countries and continents
whole populations lie inert and helpless
as if practising for death, in synchrony.
I still can’t get over the fact
that the human race is divided into men and women
with perfectly different
bodies
who are pulled together by desire
to stroke, caress and kiss each other
and share orgasmic pleasure
to create (at least at some point, by design or accident)
new members of the human race.
I still can’t get over the fact
that every few hours I must fill my mouth
with lumps and strips of matter
and mash them down to a slushy pulp
to keep my body up and running
while it seems to be constantly running down.
I still can’t get over the fact
that I seem to be a sentient being
standing on the surface of a rocky globe
that spins into darkness every day
and tilts through seasons and rotates through years
and that whenever I gaze at a cloudless sky
I’m staring into an infinite universe.
I still can’t get over these facts
and I pray that I never do -
that strangeness never grows familiar
and mystery never grows mundane.
All best wishes and blessings
Steve