Turmoil

Turmoil

Turmoil rules my mind.

A cloudless orbit through this life I can not find.

Choice and circumstance

form an avalanche:

waves of confusion engulf my serenity.

The end of the stream is concealed somewhere that I can’t see.

 

I wonder whether I shall care to search for my objective

while the only thoughts slithering through my mind are interjective?

I haven’t yet received orders from above me in the chain of command;

I surmise it is something I am supposed to demand.

But I crave to be free from this bureaucratic conglomeration

that everyone calls a new and independent nation. 

I must be deranged;

perhaps accommodation in a place with white beds and white walls should be arranged;

the reason being that I’ve been estranged

from what I know is right, decent, honest, fair, beautiful.

People do as they please and argue they are being dutiful,

they speak falsifications and ironies.

The moral human is forced to his knees.

The world doesn’t have concerns;

it is content as long as there’s a coin in the slot

to finance the next materiality or immorality it yearns.

Then we return to the top, with a disproportionately thickened plot.
© Annalinde Louw 2004

This piece was written on 25 May 2004

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