Involuntary Notions of a Planet
Dario L. Jaramillo 2001
Conditioning
Human
conditions
Conditioning
every moment
Of the day
Feeling life
to be short
When in
reality it is long
When status
and toil
Is more
important
Than life
itself
Possibly
because life
Is an
unknown
Known to us
Only to be
described as
Scientific
When the
soporific
Is actually
the systematic
And
sophomorific
Conditioning
society
Delivers
upon us.
Gyges'
Ring
I feel
invisible now
Now that all
is revealed
Now that all
is transparent
All is in
the open
All is
congealed
I feel
invisible now
Now that
I’ve forgiven
Now that
I’ve confessed
All is
thrown into the wind
All is
buried deep in time
I feel
invisible now
Now that
distress has passed
Now that
tranquility is in the bones
All is God
All is love
I feel
invisible now
Now that
what was once pain is now pleasure
Now that
what was once horrible is now lovely
All is past
All is now
I feel
invisible now
Now
bewilderment is order
Now
there’s nothing to loose, all is gain
I’m
invisible
Now I can
love
Now I can
die.
Lost Time
Iconoclastic
Bombastic
Fantastic
Religiously
Plastic
Basket case
Of society
Pursuing (as
usual)
Moronic
Bubonic
Chaotic
Fluorinated
Flummoxed
Reps of
government
To lead us
through
Partial and
one sided
Futures
Of lost
causes
Likely
losses
And pain,
poverty and impairment
Via
derivative bifurcation
Of unlikely
ideals
Set forth to
an ignorant
Community
Causing (yet
again)
Lost time.
Urges
Uncontrollable
urges
Of sexual
desire
Caused by
Uncontrollable
urges
Of
Non-sexual desire
Within
Opposite
sexes
Causing the
ever
Effervescent
game
Of control
Drifting
love
Into a dark
and lonely
Hole
A sea of
turmoil
Finding not
a moment
Of calm.
Angels
Holding on
to what?
You said?
Fleeting
obnoxious soiled
Feelings
from a past
That is no
longer here?
From a
reality that distorted
Your brain
Disrupted
your soul
And
contorted your heart
Into
anxieties that can no
Longer be
beneficial
To your
manipulative
Nature?
Nature?
You said?
Did you
emote
Or remotely
Consort with
the enemy
To obtain
justification
Of your
Resentments?
Hark!
Let the
angels sing
With you
about you
Around you
Let then
abound you
Releasing
the negative
Blood
pressure that runs
Through your
veins
As the
angels sing again
And again
And again
As you
fortify
Your soul
And forgive
yourself
From
yourself
Letting
angels become
Your cohorts
Your
companions
Your guides
As you dance
through
The walk of
life
Smiling into
their
Souls
Laughing
into their
Hearts
Enjoying
their
Shine
And
following their light
As you lead
the way
Into your
universe
Finding
tranquility.
Eighty
Cantankerous
old woman
Finding her
soul was lost
And gone
Feeling
dependency
Was far and
wide
Hard and
empty
Begins to
feel her soul again
Looking
ahead was better than looking
Back
Looking
towards the simpler life
Instead of
contagious
Extraneous
Vivacious
Hysteria
Within the
compounds
Of her long
lasting
Relationship
With love
Where is
love?
Where are
thou?
Said she
As she
walked into the ocean
To soothe
her soul
To soothe
the pain
That she
unconsciously
Demanded for
Fighting
back
Fighting
against
The person
she “loved”
This
cantankerous old woman
Has now
found love
On the beach
As she
looked into the depths
And the sky
Looking deep
into the eyes
Of life
itself
As she
wondered
Whether to
kill herself
Or start
over again
At 80.
All of a Sudden
Pursuing
forbidden forbids
In a land of
specialized id’s
Churning the
face of laughter
From ego
centralized masks
Hiding
mongrel shortcomings
And
classless, uncultured passions
Void souls
and empty hearts
From the
masses…
It makes me
feel sick…all of a sudden.
Wet Virgin
Wet virgin
Standing on
the corner
Obligingly
Agreeing
with every human that
Passes
Showing her
caresses
And carcass
Making her
feel
Alive
In her mind
In her body
Her
self-esteem is in her
Tits
And her
security between her
Legs
Lending
herself to toil
For her
delight
Or despite
Who will
ever know?
Why this
virginal character
Stands on
every corner
Providing
her existence
To mankind
And
womankind
Together
All together
Until she
finds her
Body rotting
in the wind
As another
homeless
Person
On the beach
When age
Catches up
with
Her.
Culture
Dependency
Idiosyncrasy
Nationality
Fantasticality
Of fanatic
realities
Making races
collide
In the wind
Provoking
Constant
flowing
Of the
Blood
In the
street
To exist as
a flimsy excuse
To progress.
The Body Joy
Walking
towards death
Watching the
sun rise
And
Shadows
falling where it may
Gently
floating towards oblivion
As life
chips away at me
I hear birds
screaming
And singing
songs of desire
Of amusement
Of
sensuality
Of
sensibility
Of delight
Of height
Of flight
Of joy
And here I
am
Hearing it
all again
Among humans
As they
imitate hand-me-down
Goals
That drives
them into insecurity
Hardening
their arteries
Stressing
their muscles
Emptying
their souls
Longing for
what they do not have
Or what they
will never achieve
I hear them
flow
Exasperatedly
towards oblivion
And singing
songs of desire
Of
apprehension
Of
vindication
Of jealousy
Of murder
Of anxiety
Of power
Of greed
Of angst
Of theft
Of pain
Among the
chosen few
That sing
The body
joy.
Yes
Believe it
or not
God appeared
on my doorstep
And gave me
a hand
Showed me a
means
To stay
awake
To gently
accept
To forgive
and to make
Life a most
unforgettable
Place to be
And to be
I be.
Mortal Awakening
I am no
longer
A member of
the rat race
No longer an
affiliate to society’s
General
expectations
Call it
arrogant
Call it
illusive
Call it
reclusive
Antisocial
Call it
whatever it may
When
nomenclatures
And
categorizations
Are thrust
upon
The atypical
And
justified for what is not
Understood
Or conceived
Or is it
that they feel less?
When a soul
has left behind
Capricious
activity
Unnecessary
precociousness
Accumulation
of material waste
Ascension of
status, fame and fortune
Call it what
you may
But I see a
glow
When I look
across
The horizon
Sensing that
I float
Without
conceit
Without
despite
Without
vindication of any sort
I am not
different than they are
I just awoke
from the dream
I just awoke
from the gray
I just awoke
from a reality
I did not
create
I now create
joy
I now create
love
I now create
motivation
And
creativity
Spirits do
not frighten me
They are my
friends
Spirits do
not take me
They guide
me
Spirits do
not push me
They pamper
me
And I love
them
Whether they
appear
Dreadfully
nasty
Menacingly
sinister
Horrifyingly
hideous
Atrociously
gruesome
Appallingly
horrendous
They are
still my partners
They are
still my loved ones
For my mind
may see differently
Than my soul
Since
After all
I am only human.
Lady Love
Woman
I for art
thou love thee
For who you
are
For what you
are
Woman
I for art
thou want thee
For who you
are
For what you
are
Woman
You and I
are
And be
What we want
to be
As we be
We are.
Digital Observation
The pounding
and thrusting
Of digital
nature
Exfoliating
countless
Archaic
designs
Into
momentary regimes
Infuriating
countless
Aging old
axioms
Into
futuristic evolution
Converting
them into numeric
Formulaic
fabrications by intent
Renovating
and replenishing
Age-old
maxims
Into
progressive highways
Of the
universe
And beyond
And watching
for wormholes
Into the
future into the future into the future
Into the
future into the future into the future
Into the
future into the future into the future
Into the
future into the future into the future
Into the
future into the future into the future
Into the
future into the future into the future
Into the
future into the future into the future
Like a
watcher of the sky.