I cannot reach you the shimmering mirage of my dreams undone there was no triumph in the sigh that escaped my lungs but all these moments that reveal we had made death in our image and I would be damned if I did not quiver at what we’ve become
The neon world shone through the mist, the creatures called ‘humans’ or more scientifically, ‘homo sapiens’ were becoming like the dragonfish of the deep, deep ocean. Though their physical biology refused to become bioluminescent they were compensated for this by their adaptability and creative abilities. The mist had become an ocean in which they constantly lived and had planet earth been a sentient being it may well have regarded humanity as its greatest mistake.
Their evolution of super adaptability meant they externalised many traits and habits other animals had inbuilt. With delusions of grandeur on a mass scale, the homo sapiens had no regard for animals, despite being one themselves, the animals in their linguistic headspaces had become ‘other,’ and expendable. Some homo sapiens had come to the conclusion they were making too many mistakes, indeed in one cartoon (something they created with an implement known as a pen) that caught my eye the homo sapien had drawn a dinosaur with a meteorite falling from the sky, one dinosaur looked to another and said, ‘We should do something about that,’ and the other said, ‘We can’t, it’ll hurt the economy.’ This cartoon was supposed to be something called comedy. The laughing matter is that the cartoon was pointing out a real phenomenon. To the homo sapiens, the ‘economy’ was more important than saving their lives. And I have wondered ever since what sort of diety this ‘economy’ must have been to them that they were willing to sacrifice their lives for it. They worshipped this God called ‘economy’ and the thought of hurting this God was baulked at more than their own demise. Perhaps they believed in some kind of afterlife. They appeared trapped in a hell of their own making, the air was dense with all sorts of stuff they pumped into it daily. But they could not or would not help themselves. I believe they were all (a term they used) addicts.
They had divided such a line between themselves and the expendable others that they ironically othered themselves as a consequence. They had mind-bending ideas that meant they figured anything ‘man-made’ was not nature, for they were above it or in some minds below it. But the species were so fractured that although they lived by this principle even many of the homo sapiens who purported to be ‘at one with nature’ would baulk at ‘man-made’ progress and they didn’t see how this was a contradiction. They figured themselves enlightened and the ones who would take them back to nature and none of them stopped to question, ‘When did we leave?’ Was it when they first harnessed electricity? Was it when they first landed a man on the moon? If it was the earth that had birthed them in the whole scheme of things, then ‘man made’ need not be excluded from being called natural. After all, it was their evolved capabilities that naturally gave them these abilities.
Homo sapiens by my alien (alien to them) observations, were addicts who were so out of fear of death.
If Homo sapiens were just mere natural beings then they too would perish, they too came from and were part of the dirt.
The homo sapiens were to the earth what the metallic starlings were to poison-dart trees.
Homo sapiens had the disadvantage that they were harmful to all of the earth, but the supposed advantage was their tendency to be highly adaptable.
But too many chose to ignore the signs, too many chose to ignore the men and women shouting and screaming that the world was on fire.
Because they were addicts.
All for fear of the thing they only brought more of, death.
And now, in their misty neon ghettos, they try to forget their inevitable demise, looking into the halo of a neon noose.
Too much chatter with each beat of the heart anguish laced with anger a match striking against the grain of us and so we burn along with the edges our role unknown like domesticated felines just choking the world into a black hole men with guns for fun not for want of food and my soul cannot take it in this haze of all this smoke looking for a sign but seeing only the curse each of our footsteps a roar upon the earth silent like a secret so we can’t see the destruction we birth and though the world is a hive in which we live we damage it from within predators of the earth and in the future they say we’ll be among the stars consuming worlds out there too
It was our houses that were the aliens we became the invasions and I am no less guilty needing these things as much as any man if not more lest the cold get to my troubled heart the birds sing of things we couldn’t we’re animals lost in communication in which we still have no translation
In the woods grounded in rugged boots stripped from our alienation we stand in communion with the others their tails waving and teeth chattering and beaks opening trailing out winters breath Bills drilling, tongues rolling snapping up a woodpeckers delight nothing is quite the same once you realise even dead trees are teeming with life
I don’t need an umbrella walking through this pseudo forest as the leaves lose their leathery coating blushing red as they blunder as if embarrassed by their fall the elves of autumn cleaning the trees while the doves coo and woo and the Jays covet a squirrels cache of acorns and I, just a small part of the picture walk and tumble through pondering on the permanence of our damage done like a tattoo on the landscape while trying to find a place non human to dispose of my civility a wry smile hidden by a mane of hair as I recognise I’m so much more at peace without that polite formal mimicry.