No longer can I afford
The Endless Debauchery.
I must tear up my roots.
I must cease to be a tree.
I should rather become
The hawk that spiraling, soars
Beyond the imposition of rooms,
Of labyrinths, mirrors... doors.
<>
Yet the paradox of liberation
Is that it requires limitation.
Thoughts carefully selected
Inspire actions, a life corrected.
<>
This then is the song of the brave:
To be one's own master
Rather than everyone's slave.
<>
This then is the craziest dream:
To reject appearances
And become what we seem.
***** * *****
"The question of normality in a person is usually decided on the basis of how similar his personality characteristics are, both in frequency and in force, to those psychosomatic processes most often encountered in a given society. The most frequent and thus "normal" traits express themselves in the following norms: practical rather than theoretical intelligence, predominantly egocentric rather than alterocentric attitudes toward society, and preponderance of the self-preservation, sexual, exploratory, and social instincts. These traits are commonly in compliance with group thinking and behavior and are often accompanied by minor, "safe" dishonesty. Such a group of "normal" traits in a person should, according to many, allow us to describe him as mentally healthy. Can we agree? No. This formulation is humiliating to mankind; a more suitable definition of mental health must contain, besides average values, exemplary ones."
-Kazimierz Dobrowski, "Positive Disintegration"
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About the Creator
C. Rommial Butler
C. Rommial Butler is a writer, musician and philosopher from Indianapolis, IN. His works can be found online through multiple streaming services and booksellers.
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More stories from C. Rommial Butler and writers in Poets and other communities.
Context?
inexcusable; decontextualization undeniable * Thanks for reading! Author's Notes: The great Gerard DiLeo challenged me to write a 5.7.5 format senryu/haiku with just three words. This is my entry? I had two others to choose from too that I might publish at a later date. I have also done a few in the past...because...you know it's not hard enough lol.
By Paul Stewart3 days ago in Poets
Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis5 days ago in Humans
Comments (2)
'Sup CR - So many metaphors can be placed onto the little used 'Debauchery' social description of society within todays often anti-social behavior; which is what I try to figure out daily? In my biz the 'new normal' seems to be prevalent. - Thank you for this - J-bud
Ahhh, I agree with Kazimierz Dobrowski. Your poem was very deep and thought provoking as always!