preoccupied with their biochemicals
physiology junkies in reduction
of the intimate complexity of life
to limited expression of numbers
they run - how fascinated
the narcissists of this world
must be by lifeless imitation
let them run with the impulse
that turned them into digital
inconsistencies, only finding
ephemeral structure in constant
pleasure bursts - let them go
their endless fun isolates
and captivates them to the point
of losing language, our tool
to explore verticality just before
we spread our arms, our horizontal
arrows in space and time
... but maybe running
to a bright mirage
of non-existent future
also lead to forgetting
the past, its only reality,
unacknowledged,
is an acidic prolongation
of fantasy that airbrushes
the present...
now, what is left?
lightweight marionettes,
mass produced Peter Pans
run to the vanishing point
until the end of human perspective:
in forward flight
running out of life.
But then there are those who are freakishly into the new way of quantifying everything, largely through digital devices that help them focus on molecules rather than perception. I believe they are the subject of your lengthy poetic discourse.
Run? Yes, I ran. I ran like the wind as a child and later I ran for the pure enjoyment of feeling the wind on my body and observing the smells and sights as I best through neighborhoods and down trails leading me into a better feeling of my place in nature. I built muscle strength and consumed calories from eating so much.
And then, at 20, paralyzed partially from surgically induced spinal cord injury, I could no longer run and I decided to change my lifestyle. Stopped eating so much and started eating the right foods. I walked rather than took a ride. Thus, I maintained my health for three quarters of a century without any of the digital tools of the 21st century to aid me in my quest for health and long life. Now, I'm just a long-distance runner.
RonYes, we run. A new version of the rat race. There are those that either don't know or don't care and are part of the burgeoning population of out of shape, obese masses that eat the wrong thing, do the wrong thing and suffer immensely the last half of their lives as a result.
But then there are those who are freakishly into the new way of quantifying everything, largely through digital devices that help them focus on molecules rather than perception. I believe they are the subject of your lengthy poetic discourse.
Run? Yes, I ran. I ran like the wind as a child and later I ran for the pure enjoyment of feeling the wind on my body and observing the smells and sights as I best through neighborhoods and down trails leading me into a better feeling of my place in nature. I built muscle strength and consumed calories from eating so much.
And then, at 20, paralyzed partially from surgically induced spinal cord injury, I could no longer run and I decided to change my lifestyle. Stopped eating so much and started eating the right foods. I walked rather than took a ride. Thus, I maintained my health for three quarters of a century without any of the digital tools of the 21st century to aid me in my quest for health and long life. Now, I'm just a long-distance runner.
Ron oh
Numbers: Weight. Height. Width. Body mass. Ratio of fat to muscle... It is interesting that body image and vanity can lead to two routes simultaneously--like the ever health-conscious, body-strengthening/beautifying route, and likewise, the pleasure-seeking, body-gratifying route. Numbers: What's yours? What time to meet? Meanwhile cell phones,computers, tablets inwardly whir with ones and zeros, also simultaneously reducing all you input into digits.
So we run numbers. And it's horrible that health-mindedness can lead to such dehumanization. But more than that. It's demoralizing and degrading as well. Even doctors, for those seeking health for less vain reasons, have to run the numbers to look for output.
Your poem makes me think hard about this reduction we're constantly doing--reducing everything down (that's infinite and expansive) into nondescript vagueness. Hey, but (plug for poetry) when we reduce a thought down to concise words, we get more depth, more clarity, and sometimes, a pretty powerful message.
To me, this is a warning as much as a picture of modern living.
Those forever running numbers, running on impulses, running on helium fumes of fun and fantasy...are about to do a belly flop on the broken glass of reality... they're running out of time, out of life, out of luck.
(I do take issues with the Peter Pan line, though. I like the Neverland guy. Sometimes, if you run the right numbers, maybe you really can fly...). I'm just sayin'... --Charlie