Trying to be human

"Tryin' to be human" was a line from a Kerouac poem that inspired me.

How did I get all the skin on me?
Seem to be full of gutty-what's.
How should I know what to be?
Breathing, seeing and feeling cuts.
Who decided I should exist?
Everyday I eat and poop?
I tried and tried but can't resist
This unending banal loop.
Trying to be human
Seems to be the only choice
Cursed with bitter acumen,
At least I have a tiny voice.
To cry out in futility
In the chaos and the smoke.
A worthless token of a plea
From the fleshy and the broke.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

I love this becuz you state a universal feeling (being human sucks) without coming close to one cliched idea -- everything unexpectedly fresh & thought-provoking. Your poem reminds us how utterly failed we can all be, meanwhile humans in general consider themselves king of all species. There's so much we could learn from other creatures about accepting our simple baseness gracefully (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[T.S. Ulmus]

Well thank you for this deep dive into my catalog, I haven't read this one in a long time. You gave me frilly flickerings and a glomping glowness all the way to the tips of my nethers. (And you know that's a long journey)

[barleygirl]

ur killin me

[Delmar Cooper]

Ground to fit and stuffed into a freshly cleaned casing the word -presto chango- is made poetry and the flesh made sausage. This reader, for one, would be enthralled by "gutty-whats" if it did not seem contrived to furnish rhyme for "feeling cuts." (I was igniting burnt offerings and shouting silent prayer for "filthy butts.")

[T.S. Ulmus]

I use "gutty-what's" as a definition of viscera, always have. "Cuts" was the forced rhyme, sorry if it seems contrived. This was not constructive criticism, in fact, you kind of sound like a jackass. Troll elsewhere.

[Delmar Cooper]

Sorry to bray so wrongly. I love the neologistic "gutty whats" and now that it is revealed to be a common expression I feel contrite about assuming it to be an invention of convenience.

[Inessa]

We are all trying to be human, except, of course, for that rare breed of inbred scum that will NEVER be human, no matter how hard they try. (Not referring to you :)). Life is a banal loop and sometimes it gets stuck like an old cassette. We have to use that tiny voice and make it roar.

[Lia Columbus]

All of us know the moment when our minds question everything even our existence and the point of it. This surreal routine is anyway exhausting. And that tiny voice is like a thin splinter. Not acting upon it pains.
I love your poem

[Dhara_Ditzy Kat]

The banal loop caught me. Being human to me is the same s**t, another day, everyday. I hate the grind and yet I am in to it everyday day. Does that make me spinleess? Maybe yes. Yes, we have a tiny voice and that's all that redeems us from other equally fleshy creatures. But how often do we put it to really good use? Great poem, T.S. Ulmus!

[T.S. Ulmus]

Thank you for your great understanding review, the banality of life was always the point of this poem. This dumb fleshy machine needs food again or needs to stretch, needs to go earn money so it can eat food again. I feel like you picked up on that, so thank you.

[Dhara_Ditzy Kat]

You are very welcome. :)

[Robert Trakofler]

well I have never been very good at it either I lost my instruction manual and it was written in cuneiform anyway and the diagrams were barely discernible. So any pointers are most welcome

[T.S. Ulmus]

Thanks for the review, I know what you mean. My inner voice of reason and morality only speaks Swahili.

[Dave Brown]

This trying to be human thingy can sometimes be a difficulty
Not sure about the options tho'

[Lorry]

I like this thought, that asks the question, if we are free to be, how free is any freedom. We build into us, but it's not like I can evolve into a dolphin any time I need a swim, so where's the freedom.
And if we accept the freedom of being, does it mean we just lay down and accept all that happens to us, or do we drop out of an uncaring system and go our own way, minus the shape-shifting into dolphins.
We are basically bacteria on a rock that got ideas above its station, denying that it is a pebble, in an ocean of darkness so vast, that for all we know, we are merely on the naughty step of the universe and aren't invited to the big event that we are not party too.
And that's without smoking anything, honest. It's 2 ayem here and I need more coffee, but a very thought provoking write indeed.

[T.S. Ulmus]

I'm glad you picked up on the were-dolphin undertones of the piece. And my angst about not being invited to parties in high school. Thank you for your colorful review.

[Coyote Poetry]

Kerouac books, I have been reading lately. My favorite, Big Sur. He wrote what he thought. A outlaw, who lived his life, his way. I like the poem. I have question life often and I decided. I am here to help someone. I am blessed with children and many grandchildren. Keep me grounded. Thank you for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

[AJNJ]

This poem is so meaningful in today's times of crisis when the human race is being tested to its limits biologically, chemically and psychologically. If we go to molecular biology, it may be noted that pig's or cow's insulin and equine estrogen is in effective use for human beings. We are not very different from them who have no voice or choice in matters of survival. Are we using this privilege prudently? A powerful and thinking poem, sir!