birthA Poem by chr66isi float through the ethereal plane, drifting back and forth across the membrane that separates my brain from the universal mainframe, the collective reservoir of synergistic creative bliss, the birthplace of every poet and artist, of everyone who’s been infected by the madness to chase inspiration into the dark corners of their mind, who persist no matter what they might find, who resist the cries to conform to standards of normalcy with which they do not agree and which serve to rape imagination and murder intuition by rewarding mediocrity and dissuading ingenuity, so that we’ve become a nation whose infatuation with tv’s, celebrities, and killing sprees has allowed us to be put under a spell that makes us sleep so deeply that we can no longer distinguish fantasy from reality, so that we feel closer to characters on television shows than we do our own family, and we nap our way through life with the frustrating feeling that something is not quite right while we continue to lose connection with what’s real, with how we actually feel rather than being horrified that we aren’t what we are told we are supposed to be, that we don’t live up to expectations that are imposed on us from all sides since before the time when our minds could fend for themselves, and we grow up in nice, little boxes that are all the same size and are all stacked in neat, little rows and lined up on the shelves, but those molds can be broken and we can be freed from the deadening of our spirit, the suppression of our individuality, and the failure that inevitably comes with success in their system. Re-think what you know about the world, what you find important and vital for your heart to soar and your soul to thrive every moment of your life, or else you’re just here, and you may as well be dead because you already are. -CV © 2008 chr66isReviews
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