What Are We

“What Are We”

Palms sweating, with hand raised.

I feel an uncertainty I can not change.

I see death all around,

An unexpected byproduct,

Of a shameless system all too corrupt.

I think of our Children starving, no rest.

That’s when I feel the sickness and death.

This is their world that we have created,

Despotic and meaningless and globally hated.

With my hand up above and my thoughts down below,

That’s when I shout anonymously so.

Fuck all the killing and pointless debating,

Our world is in shit and there is no debating.

Your money is fake, and pointless to blame.

It is the system we trusted, at which we must aim.

That when I am called to fully express

I prepare for a logical question of chess

“What are we”?

Day 212

Day 212

   As I awake from my cosmic cell, I am met by the ominous glow of photoluminescents (glow in the dark material). I remember my room as a child, heavily decorated from wall to ceiling with glowing stars and other celestial bodies. This had influenced my mind every night as a child, but now in some sick twist of fate, I have come to hate this inspiring glow. As I move slowly from my cramped sleeping quarters, I begin my day’s monotonous tasks. Looking to my left, I begin to carefully decode the array of flashing lights. Beautiful in its simplicity, these lights seem to blur into an infinite fireworks display. Only the trained eye can successfully decode this beautiful show. As I make my way to the right, I am met with an intricate tangle of wires. Like a hoard of bats in the Arizona evening sky, these wires dance around one another, in what can only be described as calculated chaos. After inspecting the tangle, I begin to make my way to a small porthole at the rear of the cabin. Along the way, I continue to decode the menacing wall of lights and switches. At this time, my ears begin to wake from their oblivious slumber. Soon my head is filled with the annoying tick of electrical systems kicking on. Like a bad song that never stops, these noises pick at one’s psyche until all that is left is an incurable migraine. My cosmic cell is not without its own beauty though. From floor to ceiling, it is encapsulated in a beautiful pristine white material. I have heard it described as if one were sitting inside a summer cloud. After spending months inside this cloud, I would have to disagree. I must, however, respect the clouds life saving ability to reject entry of any radiation seeking to destroy me on a cellular level. As I leave my cell through the small glowing porthole, I enter into another cell with equal despair. This room is small and white, with two adjacent entrances on both sides. Silver tanks of highly volatile fuel sit menacingly all around. My eyes fixate on beautifully colored warning labels, filling me with a sense of vulnerability. I, quickly but carefully, make my way to the rear entry port. Now entering the supply cabin, another prisoner of this white glowing hell meets me. She is a beautiful specimen, grown in the secluded study halls of major universities; she later becomes a professor of chemistry. Having noticed my presence, she begins to probe my anatomy with her angelic blue eyes. Her slender and seductive body enslaves me to her every whim. I only wish in time, to share this feeling with her, but as the hope for humanity, our goals must not stray. As I move away, I am greeted by one of the two external windows to the cosmos. It is late in our journey, and the spacecraft was beginning to slow from its artificial spin. It is then that I notice it, out to right, moving slowly into view. Speechless and unable to inform the crew, I stand staring. Its ominous red glow encases my mind in a world of wonder. My eyes begin to adjust, and it is only then that the vivid detail comes to life. White caps could be seen on the north and south poles, seeming to end abruptly among a flood of red and orange. From my vantage point the surface seems polished with intricate detail. Like a precious red gem, it hangs seemingly motionless in my small window view.  Looking out at it, I feel as if I can hold this world in my hands. My own words cannot even begin to describe this beauty. They should have sent a POET in place of me.

The One Truth

She surrounds me on all sides,

whispering sweet whims into my being.

A light touch on my shoulder on a windy day,

just to remind me of her presence.

A chaotic symphony shrouded in bliss,

enslaves me to her every whim.

Should I forget my purpose,now and again,

she will catch me with eternal truths.

She is omnipresent and all knowing,

although a decipher will be needed,

to once again decode her mumbles.

Her health is vital,

her sickness is devastating,

her kindness is Life.

She can speak with no sound,

yet you may hear it all.

She answers to no one,

but follows all the rules.

She is humanities one true god.

She will guide us to salvation.

She is everywhere at once.

She is but the beat in our heart,

the thoughts in our minds.

She controls us all, with unfathomable love.

She is the past, present, and future

She is my one true love,

She is SCIENCE.