Who Is The Real Problem? Poem by RIC BASTASA

i am the real problem
i Do not have anything to do with my Life, it has only lonelines as the real cause of its misery.

i am the real problem
i Have figured out the real issue
Of the problem and
it is not capable of exact
Definition,

That seemingly is a problem apparently
Appearing to me as life but there is
No life in it
The right to call it life
Cannot be true, this is just to be frank about it.

I refer to the expertise of sorceress
She put some aluminates in cinders
And she figures out the illuminated forms of my
Problem,

a snake is the illuminated form of my misery

There is a snake in my house
Or
could be in my office or could be in my world.

The real problem is i
Do not believe the sorceress
And I am left with nothing to do but figure out the real
Problem in my dreams

Planes taking off and exploding in mid air
Rivers rising flooding and making a town disappear
Bamboo poles with lots of coconut oil rubbed on its sides and I cannot climb
My way of jumping into murky rivers filled with goldfishes floating dead
A brook filled with feces and I am there swimming
A snake chasing me and I cannot run as fast as I can
and it bites me
And I

Wake up
profusely sweating and trembling

i get a glass of water and
ThankGod that everything is simply
a bad dream

The real problem really is,
On the other hand,
I waking up
and well,
Honestly wishing that all these dreams be true,
nonetheless

nevertheless
Real true, so I explode with the plain in mid-air
And they cannot find an inch of me

and I will fall to every climb to that oily bamboo pole
Down to my graves down to the deepest part of this earth
And I will drown in that big flood and disappear with the town
and lose myself in the murkiness of the brown river
And I will die suffocated in that brook of fecal matter and the snake
Finally bites me
and consistently
in reality
and I will be foaming saliva in my mouth frothing like one crazy fool

Dying in an instant.

That is the real problem apparently.