615. Improvidentdom

A scanning light washed over me,

And once it was over I could see,

A luminous map of the world,

With unexpected planning unfurled…

Upon my hands, which sank through the skin,

And I walked ‘way bitter as sin,

For I did not consent to this breach,

Of body…nor of the states reach.

I heard a voice speak distantly,

Which, suddenly, I could clearly see,

As if a station in my head,

Tuned into a TV show instead.

I could not turn it off or escape,

From the perpetual mind-rape.

I observed the inhumanity,

Of those I could not save indefinitely.

There is no immortality,

That’s worth living here eternally.

Machines are cold and lacking things,

Which can not grant to you hope, nor wings.

You can’t rely on metal and code,

To save your soul or change the mode,

Of transience, and hold souls ransom…

For time and space are not ad infinitum;

They have an end, as all things do.

All things have their time to move on through,

Souls in their day nourish the soil,

For the souls of tomorrow to cultivate and toil…

And grow.

K. Aldaya, 5/2/23

Picture: By Strvnge Films on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/Pr2CZyi-pzE

594. Humans Silence Screams

Humans silence screams,

Yes, they refuse to hear.

They smother feelings with their hands,

And whisper, “No, not here!”.

Humans silence screams,

And leave voices estranged.

Severing all the connections,

‘Til the harm can’t be changed.

Humans silence screams,

And use without remorse.

They want the best without the worst,

And they get it by force.

Humans silence screams,

And exterminate choice.

For mutilated vocal cords,

Can not, then, bear a voice.

K. Aldaya, 10/19/22

Picture: From Vampire Diaries; https://tenor.com/view/choke-strangle-cant-breathe-gif-12216423

562. How Many Will Be Here Tomorrow?

As the world decays beneath us,

I wonder sorrowfully,

How many will be here tomorrow?

And will one of them be me?

The ground has opened wide,

Threatening to swallow us all,

As devil’s in humans’ clothes,

Neighborly push, to help us fall.

I have not prayed for many years,

And it may just be absurd,

But I find myself wanting to,

Even if it won’t be heard.

I fear that the demons are real,

And all the good angels have gone.

Now all we have is one another,

And little ground to stand upon.

For I am but a mortal child,

Yet, I wonder anyway,

How many will be here tomorrow?

…I better write this today.

K. Aldaya, 9/13/21

Picture 1: By Fakurian Design on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/1r0TPtmhEZA

Picture 2: By National Cancer Institute on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/701-FJcjLAQ

Picture 3: From ABC News: Michael Franchi; https://www.abc.net.au/news/2021-05-09/mining-camp-designers-plan-covid-19-quarantine-hub-in-wa/100119364

Picture 4: From CNN (VCG via Getty Images); https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/asia/covid-china-quarantine-camp-hebei-b1790210.html

Picture 5: Posted by Jim Davidson on Twitter; https://twitter.com/planetaryjim/status/1298645415831777280

548. Oppressed

Don’t make me laugh human.

You are nothing if not a joke.

You love to blame everyone but yourself,

For every fire you stoke.

Don’t make me laugh human.

Do you think that you know of pain?

You love thinking that you are so oppressed,

And touch blood for the stain.

Don’t make me laugh human.

You don’t know what it’s like to be,

Pushed to the outside of your own species,…

Forgotten completely.

Don’t make me laugh human.

Your superficial victimhood,

Is so clear when you always get to speak,

Louder than others could.

Don’t make me laugh human.

If you were oppressed, you’d be me:

A humanoid-looking being who’s scanned,…

Classed as, “Anomaly”;

And no one would ever agree,

To listen to you, or to understand.

They’d simply press *Delete*,

And then continue on as planned.

K. Aldaya, 6/13/21

Picture:

475. Monstrous

photo-1509479200622-4503f27f12ef

You love to laugh at my misfortune.

To watch me suffer and cry.

When I’m hurt or sick, you look away,

And wait ’round for me to die.

You’ve never asked me about myself.

Years, and I’m still the outcast.

You’d rather make up lies and spread them,

Then to get the truth at last.

You’ve stolen from me… Gave me silence.

Ignored, screamed, and called me names.

You’ve never cared how much pain you cause,

And replay those same mind-games.

You know I have no family to care.

There’s a target on my back.

No one will stand up in my defense.

Orphans are soft to attack.

I wonder if you’ll ever fathom,

The use of introspection.

I doubt it, for as it has been said,

Monsters will not stare at their own reflection,..

It scares them too much.

K. Aldaya, 5/19/19

Picture: By: Max Bender on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/XIVDN9cxOVc