Real

Our world, this blue, cosmic

Cyclops-eye turning in the dark,

Empty head of the infinite,

Is a false mirror, breaking

Pure white light into a

Rainbow of illusions.

Hypnotized by our own creations,

We worship our own ignorance

Calling it Truth.

Like hungry spiders, we launch

Filament after sticky filament,

Capturing unsuspecting minds

Like hapless bugs in a web of

Our self-serving lies and deceit.

We feed and breed till our souls

Starve to death in our bloated bodies.

Beneath the skin, we are mud:

Part of the primordial

Landscape, the ancient swamp

That spawned us and everything on

This playground of lonely, agitated atoms,

Vibrating, twitching, becoming, and

Unbecoming, where we pose

For a quick selfie, wanting so bad

To be real.

Reviews

[mattavelli]

Hello, Laz! :)
I want to be a selfie.
This is lovely, clear in thought, and smooth to read. Thanks for sharing.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

"we worship our own ignorance/ calling it truth"
Oh my, never more evident than today's world....
and regardless of all the atrocities going on in the world...we worry about a damn selfie.
but what is real anymore....
are we just faces on a screen, demented news stories?
Breaking news for CNN?

[Chris Shaw]

We certainly have a beautiful planet. It is breathtaking seen from the ISS. The only problem is the human species who inhabit it. You convey a really dark place and I understand perfectly well why you do. The constant selfies are so fake. We no longer know what is true. If it was a painting I would suggest starting all over again. A strong write from a poet who doesn't hide behind rose tinted spectacles.

Chris