I No Longer Write for Humans
Project: The great enhancement debate

Living on a sad island,
mountains sneak into my eyes,
their rain drives me back to the door,
eyelids cloud it over, out, into a blur,
It seems worse today.



Living here,
I no longer write for humans,
no trees hear me cry,
the earth reaches over our ears,
so I try to smile in kind,
but my small change is returned,
and the rejection lingers like
you know
no one understands
that
I've got myself
and you've got
everybody else.





I'd like to leave,
but,
the red rock is unforgiving,
white waves break me back,
and big skies cheer them on,
everyone is yelling,
'come home, come home to us, come now,'
but bind,
the binary codes brand us,
you, as outgoing,
and little old me
as incoming on a
belittling mess of intelligence.


So I long to stay,
but,
the dawn ruins my timing,
and scans the lines
for predictions of omens
and auguries where others
would avoid fate
and all her works,
feeling unbeholden to thought.





___________________________________________

18th April 2008 Hobart Tasmania

Thanks to Shevek for reminding me that I don't have to be dead to be a successful poet, or indeed be successful to be successful, just followed, though it's a pity I had to lose my humanity along the way.

ps each second line should be indented almost to the end of the preceding line... doesn't seem to work...

Tue, Apr 22, 2008  Permanent link
Categories: epiphany, transhuman condition
Sent to project: The great enhancement debate