So I just read Bob_Toeback's blog which inspired me to post a poem I recently wrote. But before that, it seems to me that people are losing themselves to algorithms known as 'popular media' or (in a grand scale) anything bandwagon-driven. When I recall my dreams, they are rarely of anything recognisable in popular culture, and are never inspired by it unless I myself have brought those elements in when I become lucid, and even then, it's not because of the popular elements, it's because I see something within these elements that no one else can. I see the free souls, and I need to explore them, as well as my own.
It is truly regretable that our civilization has advanced because of the adventurous and curious attitude of men like Christopher Columbus, only to be degraded and plateued(sp?) to what it is today. There are millions of people hooked on new fads because millions of people will be hooked on those fads simultaneously like some deranged and horrific self-fulfilling prophecy, cataclysmically spiralling the intellect and uniqueness of human kind into one singular melting pot of popularity marketed to the masses. Fully generalized and equalized to ensure the highest profit. We are all a part of the equation on some C.E.O.'s desk, and he knows how to sell us what he wants but what does he do? He is above the system he has created, and uses OUR money to seek the things in his life that will give him joy. Should we not all be doing the same?
Anyhow, continue if you know how this feels:
Forthright.
Fling along my fingers, the heavens
That we've lost.
Many of our heart-breaks have lived there,
Many centuries ago,
Awaiting the flight to a sun long gone.
The last day of our encampment felt that it could have remained
To shelter our heads from the coming disastrous consequences of our steps-
Filed high toward the sky.
Why has this place been so foul?
Our attempts to bring them water were met by drunken outrages of heresy
Or a mother-lode of promises yet to be fulfilled; and none of it was warranted.
Or at least, not wanted.
- The cows over the moon by now
To be seen from afar,
So it took the high road and set itself
Across the sea,
Which used to be ours. -
~ Finger Tips.
Yes!
The hollow sound of the train as it comes around the buildings of yesterday,
Sitting atop itself before the whistles below,
And not for a second guess but for a second righteousness.
Finally,
We have found the opening in the sunlit clouds,
Beckoning to the townsfolk below to follow us. Which makes them
All the more angry,
So we ask them to trade places; and we'd gladly stay below
To only see them ascend,
For we believed that we knew the way. Which is when it hit us
That we were not holding the key, but the ascent itself was the key to the mystery;
And now it was gone forever. Guess that being selfish IS the ultimate source of salvation, But only if they said so.