The Sprouting Of Doubt And Indifference..... Poem by RIC BASTASA

do not expect, neither urge me
back, to write about a revolution,
because i am tired as a driftwood,
but not without direction, for i,
know, where i am going, and i know
what and who and why i am.
do not ask me to speak about a
revolution, because i was there,
and the revolution failed all of us.
it defeated life, and more lives
were burned like insidious paper,
all heat and flame wasted to
the vast indifferent skies.

i am tired, i am dead tired, about
us, about this society, which travels
back, like a wall clock's pendulum,
from indifference to hate, to
stagnancy and lull, this lull
of lazy thinking, plateauing
in the level of what cannot be done,
giving up, defeated and hopeless
satisfied now with the truth
that this is what humanity is all
about.

where are you Ulysses? where was that
man condemned upon the hill to carry the
stone up and then roll it down again,
endlessly? this is what eternity is all
about? Atlas has awakened from his
useless and meaningless burden.

what to do now? watch those with
depression jump from the 10th floor
and scatter their brains in those
dusty cemented pavements of history.
what to do now? write poetry, read
other petrifying poetries, reflect, dismiss,
and take time to pamper you with

cofffffffffffffffffffffee, and cooookies,
and smoke, and fish and chips,
and you sit upon an easy chair,
close your eyes, and then see for
yourself the universe within,
a thousand stars in your heart,
the moon in your mind,
the sun in your mouth.
contain everything inside your
belly, mixed with beer,
and then urinate to the world,
where every plant takes what comes
out from you as nourishment
and inspiration.