An Archetype Of A Man Poem by Joshua Bantum

We’re cold in summer,
Burning passionately in death,
Freezing in Winter.

We start things that we do not finish,
but they finish regardless,
we end things that continue being
despite our egger attempts.

We control that which is uncontainable,
Destroy only events that rebuttal
Into events that in-turn
Destroy us,

We’re human,
A species copying species
That have copied the earth,
Speaking language’s of sex and rebirth
Chaos and destruction.

We are human,
I can’t understand those words,
Or their ability to make sense of themselves
“We”,
The collective of us, of the “I”
“Are”,
A state of being
That is,
Which pertains to the encompassing “All”
Because everything is consistent, all the time.
Or isn’t, inconsistently, ever

And then “human”,
Even the definition of ourselves is dependent
Upon all the other species in existence,
Exactly like our survival, our identity.

We are an archetype of us, of the
Are, a state of being,
An archetype of humanity.
A copy of originality which is an original
Copy or not,
Does not matter,
If the copy of something is perfect,
And the original is still classified as original,
How does the copy lose that title,
Because it wasn’t the first,
Even the first, wasn’t the first,
So then,
Where does archetype come from,
It’s an archetype itself,
A copy of perfection,
But perfect on it’s own,
Along with the copy,

And so then,

So then,
“Man”… an archetype
Of itself, of existence,
Sex, drugs and rock in roll,
Hitler, hemlock the holocaust,
God, Shiva, Buddha
And Neo,
Dick suckers,
Eaters,
And users
All who witness the moon
at times,
Falling to its beauty beneath the lake,
Like a man consumed by vices deserves,
That we deserve, that the archetype of a god deserves.