im a self describing a self
a face on a liquid surface
a plasticity
a brain
a three pound infinity
always remodeling itself
and making new copies
a copy
of
a copy
of
a copy
a massive accumulation of copies
each a slight distortion
from it's original eminence
a history of minute alterations
all subtle deceptions
my so-called reality
a memory
of
a memory
of
a memory
a repetition pouring the self out
self corrupting the self
until it is somebody else
a fibbing shifty double-dealing soft machine
trying to remain intact
it's signature
a disjunctured awareness
my cells talk shit about each other
i'm more microbes than human
every synaptic light of the divine casting a shadowed past
a devil to the true origin
a mangled remembering
my pillar of reality
spirit from matter
not the other way around
i no longer recognize myself
am i human
or perhaps a robot
an alien
a walk in
that left the original inhabitant
disembodied
to wander perplexed in a netherworld
lost and crying
or, just a bad copy
of
a copy
of
a copy
of
a co
py
of
a
a
co
Comments
What a pleasure to find your
What a pleasure to find your poem.
First, It reads well. It rewards at the end with
"a walk in
that left the original inhabitant
disembodied
to wander perplexed in a netherworld
lost and crying"
The image is powerful!
Also, your poem resonates with my vision of self. I recognize the thought and relate to it very much. I feel I am a bunch of walk-ins that are marching in the self-containing loops, like little figures from Escher's graphics.
Thank you for sharing your work on Neo.
I am looking forward to reading more of your work.
I'm touched IRiz :)
So very appreciated I'm new and delighted to be here Your comment was a pleasure for me to read
Thank you….from one walk in to another ;o
My pleasure. I thought you
My pleasure. I thought you are new. My belated welcome. Do stay.
Hi IRiz
Thank you so much IRiz. I love it here. Good energy, so productive and supportive
I thrive on the projections and reflections of other souls who share this passion. ;)
I tend to...
identify more with a copier, a machine made of flesh and blood, and therefore fallible.
I read somewhere, that your memories are touched and twisted slightly each time you remember
and that because your brain doesn't remember each detail, it makes things up each time to fill in the blanks. Therefore, although the basic kernel of the experience is there, it becomes a tale that you have told yourself! It made perfect sense to me and I like the way it was told. I didn't find any inconstancies,
[but if I go back to read it again.... made me think. ~ Geezer.
.
Hi Geezer
Yes, the piece was prompted by a book on neuroscience that was in part evocative of a copier
Man made, a copier, a bot, different materials, a facsimile of our selves Little gods making littler gods
Thank you for your comment Geezer