Farewell, Free Speech

How much trust do you place on humanity? Let me tell you, my dear cynics and optimists, a story. Give me a few minutes of your time and allow me to transport you to a parallel universe, to a purely hypothetical situation in a made-up planet that may or may not be a reference to our own. It is a story about lifeforms, on a giant purple globe that plays host to a multitude of birds, beasts and relatives, with flora and fauna to match Durrell’s wildest fantasies. There is one species on this planet that is unlike the rest. This particular species has evolved over the span of a few centuries, a minor blip in the timescale of planetary evolution, to be the most intelligent organism amongst all. They developed tools, created fire, invented the wheel, and then accelerated their way into the realms of artificial intelligence, quantum mechanics and beyond, into the kind of technology that would put even Asimov to shame. And yet, contrary to what you would expect, they were the saddest of all species, forever whining and complaining about this, that and nothing at all, eternally discontent with what they had, always looking to wage war on other lands, chasing treasure and glory like stealthy magpies.

On this planet, there were hundreds of nations created by this species, which we shall now refer to as the Zorks. There was one particular nation, which, like a well-known secret, held the planet’s economy in a tight grip, had military bases that sprung up like mushrooms on almost every other nation’s coasts and had forced their way of life onto the rest of the Zorks in a move that us humans would refer to as a neo-colonialistic one. It was called Cameria. The Zorks, as a consequence of their epic wars and disproportionately high consumption rates, had always known that they were destroying the planet they lived in. But what could one do? Most Zorks became armchair activists, crying injustice from the comforts of their futuristic abodes and passively watching the horrors inflicted by their fellow Zorks. But unbeknownst to them, the most sinister threat of all was the almost complete takeover of their planet’s media by Cameria and its allies. They had ingratiated their way into everyone’s minds, touting honesty and transparency as the pillars of their journalistic ventures. More powerful than physical rule was mind control and Cameria knew it and made the most of it. Advertisements were designed to create wants, not to fulfil existing needs, Zorks were made to believe that Cameria was all-knowing, all-powerful and always right. What’s that, you say? Why didn’t they revolt? Oh mon dieu, revolutions are out of the question! You see, the Zorks had become too mollycoddled to step out of the veiled system they thrived in and observe it from the outside. That’s too much work; after all, why stand out in the sun and rally when you could wage effortless wars on social media platforms controlled by Cameria?

Sounds uncomfortably familiar, doesn’t it? Don’t worry old chap, it’s just a story. But I must warn you that fact is stranger than fiction. Now it’s time for you to go back to the humdrums of your world. If you think about this, it will weigh you down and when that happens, as Rumi once said, ‘Out beyond the ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there’. Till then, do ponder on the question I started this piece off with.

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Unsocial Media

You give your mind to influencers

you weigh your worth in follows

you sing for your unsung heroes

and for those caught in the throes

of choosing between selling art

and artfully selling.

You see them turning the corner

seeking the fame bubble

whilst around them

the earth turns to rubble.

You join the stage

crying for the spotlight

in their popularity theatre

are you any better?

And when reality hits you

like a meteorite sent from above

will you be able to leave

the billion shadows

the million stories

the thousand uploads

the hundred likes

the ten pings

the fake you?

 

 

Consalita

Amma
I wish I was there
to hold your hand
when you were younger
crossing streets
with your eyes closed.

Amma
I wish I knew
the words to tell you
you are everything
my sunshine and my storm
my strength and my weakness
my love and my fear

Amma
Do you know
I love your name
Consalita
To console
but none
consoled you

Amma
You cut off your wings
So I could have them
No happiness without gratitude
No achievement without perseverance
No knowledge without humility
No me without you

Amma
Yes mama, I pray
to Mother Mary
Mathave rekshikenney
Like you taught me to
she’ll save me
as she saved you

Amma
for what it’s worth
let me repay
your time, your love
your grace, your health
let me put you
on a pedestal
let me console you
Consalita

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Saudade

When I return

will I yearn

for that which you said

I’ll never feel again

Will I long

for the pauses

between each breath

the lanes between each junction

Will I desire

the sound of sunshine

the scent of the city

the touch of your warmth

Will I want

what you said we could have

what we could have been

what we were not

but should be

Will I want me

if I return

and be

another me?

Lipstick red

 

 

 

 

 

Postcard from the Moon

Send me postcards

from moon craters

and hollow spaces.

Send me seashells

burned by the sun

touched by your dark.

Send me roses

from the garden of Eden

cursed by the heathen.

Send me letters

written out of love

signed by another.

Send me a ticket

to leave this despair

to leave their care.

Send me the fare

of that ticket.

Send me

the moon

I’m already in the craters

I only know hollow spaces.

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