Life is like that. Fixing pain is the inert language of blood. All of life is a tree. There is a process to it. The possession, the possibility of growth. Persuasion. If we as poets, as common philosophers whether we are atheistic or religious, could recognize the ground that exists between matter and spirituality, the impulses and stimulus of nature that are secondary to harvest, school, today and you. To remember Tolstoy and Nabokov, Pasternak and Dostoyevsky, the Russian writers writing in that climate, the French writing without any handicaps towards bright authenticity and hospitality. Humanity will always be found guilty with a kind of fixed hurting towards being wounded, and wounding others in return. If I am resentful, bitter, regretful protect me is all I ask. I do not blame my father anymore. I do not blame my mother. There was nobility and humility, service and integrity in both, and they taught me that with family comes responsibility, accountability, partnerships and roleplayers that will be in your life for the long haul.
If I am unhappy, I am still grateful that I can create. Perhaps I was too sheltered and over-protected as a child. I was the eldest. If I am unhappy, it is because I have this instinct in me to always, and to never stop creating like I am a robot. There is an uncertainty that exists now in the world. What is war and what are our liberties, at what cost does peace come, and is it definable, or, does it fall by the wayside as abhorrent and inconsequential in these climatic times. Countries and world leaders, as managers and their underlings have differences of opinion. What and wherein lies the compulsion to identify these spoiled identities, is it merely cognitive dissonance, bankrupt intelligence, is the elephant in the room ignorance, or, excess, is it controversy and the violation of censorship and the virtuous laws of the soul world, of the poet’s existentialism, their enlightenment and rate of productivity in a consumer-based and ruthlessly driven modern society.
The poet is the divine ear of the universe. Everything that aligns itself with the poet’s intellect and psyche, aligns itself with moral judgment, achievement (that most primitive of crafts, that characteristic-building, reformative development instrument of transformative change in the concept of the individual, and the nuclear family as a whole, as well as humanity). Judgment almost always leads to undoing as a whole, doubt, fearful resignation, immorality, a subversive nature and the destruction of sound self-control in the world, anxieties and panicking about things that will never take place.
The poet is complex diarist of the comings and goings on of the creative processes in the arts, the impulses of what is trending on social media and the nuclear powerhouse of families existing and co-existing in harmony. The poet can never escape observation as authority figure, and as elder in the community, the poet is virtuoso caretaker, androgynous nurturer and being, conformist and non-conformist, radically politicized protector of truth, purpose and meaning. Even of feminist accounts, discussion and debate. There is no male-school of thinking, no female guidebook to the written laws of mother tongue philosophy when it comes to the psychology and brevity of the educationalist. For, the poet is educationalist, as well as being apprentice. The poet is masterful in virtue and discretion, both in advancing discourse on relative terms, as well as a philosophical framework when it comes to issues of gender bias, the stigma and discrimination of the mentally ill as if they were physically handicapped in some way, or, deformed mentally in some way by a brain disturbance, or, nervous condition. The fact that war and the practices of peace come under overwhelming debate is an exercise that will carry on repeatedly until the end times. They continue to co-exist on intensifying markers nationally all over the world stage and on an international scale. We as humans serve both paranoia and platform, birth and a paradigm shift from the camp to feminist rhetoric, poet’s sanctioning off on the bleak reality of corruption, the trials of morbid obesity, the vulnerabilities and personal attacks of physical, emotional and mental illness.
It is the poet who is church in a secular and materially-ingrained and dysfunctional society in rapid geographical decline. Perhaps the best truth put forward in years is that artificial intelligence will save humanity in the long run, and save man from man. Is it not plain to see how the poet becomes an institution in society. In both ancient history, Greek mythology and philosophy, poets championed human rights. Still to this present day. To the constellations of modern times and beyond to the stars.
