Wednesday, 18 February 2015

Future or just a few chores

We all just spend our lives
Trying to overcome our births
Trying to get along with Death
And then untie ourselves from Earth

                                                         TED Fellow Ben Burke

I had this photo with me
But can’t remember the key
There is a lot to remember to survive
Like all the passwords, tracks and then the ME

I sometimes forget the ME in the move
It’s hard to find a path, and turns, to move
From one place to another
It’s from A building to B and C, tangled groove

I forgot the day I last touched the land and the air
The air we used to feel when winds roar
The land that nurtured grass and trees
Here I move around in glass tubes with oxygen cylinder

There are gardens, made-up gardens
But I had this photo with me of some memories
Where I sat in a courtyard with friends and my pet
We talked, laughed; the clock was not set for chores

I had this photo with me of trees, of sand and kite
Where I could pick something other than me
Something other than human, alive
Here, wherever I peep, glasses show me forever
But not the ME, it shows a luggage that carries
Things that assist, the inhalations and the exhalations
The pumping, the digestion, the evacuations
I had a photo with me of some memories
Faded, outdated, memories

Visit dVerse for more... where we write inspired by Ben Burke's  poem from future.


  1. i hope there never come a day when the parks go away and we only get to see them through peep show glass...
    or when we can not feel the wind on our face....quite an emotive piece...

  2. Powerful writing, Sreeja. You make the images vivid and scarey. The memory photo is such a contrast!

  3. Very insightful and well written!

  4. Oh, I hope gardens are never just a memory - or the feel of roaring winds - wonderful poem from the future - just hope it doesn't come to be!

  5. How sad if we all live in a glass and our breathing is from oxygen cylinder ~ the refrain of the photos of all that has made you happy in the past is poignant ~ I hope we never arrive at this place & time ~ thanks for joining in ~

  6. oh heck.. walking around in a glass tube and not being able to feel the wind...touch nature... i would die...

  7. I fear that nature will die in the future... living in a world that's ALL concrete and brick is a no-no for me... smiles... the imagery here is strong: the glass tubing, no fresh air... not a place I'd care for

  8. This is so scary.. to live behind a glass and never see... and artificial air.. we seem on our way not just to condemn ourselves but all the world along with us..

  9. Your images in this poem are strong, Sreeja. I wonder what will happen with this memory photo now!

  10. The poetic expression here IN HEaRT reminds me of dreams but truly nightmares of the mechanical mind translated to flowers on Sci-Fi.. spaceships that travel MILLIONS OF miles with only screens of bright lit nature.. without THE emotional and six senses of contagion including proprioception that plant and animal life REALLY LIVING NATURE only brings to LITE A HUMAN heArt as HEART!

    WHEN HUMANS BECOME avatars INSTEAD OF HUMANS.. life already ends long ago.. and for some that already happens and they do not even realize the REALITY OF LIVING IN HELL IS the reality as they live it FOR NOW.. then and future more in a hell all lit up.. by stuff other than animal and plant flesh and blood living LOVING life....

    And the darkness of not knowing that is beyond terror to me of knowing that darkness and that light OF REAL LIFE TRUTH.. in exercising human being...

  11. "ME" lost with fast fading nature... beautifully captured!

  12. o my...gardens are a memory...nothing can be sadder and scarier than this...poignant lines...

  13. I like how you used the image of the photo to remember the past and things that once were. This is a very strong poem.

  14. happy monday to you...smiles.
    the snows not so bad...but after 8 days,
    i need to get out...and want to go back to work...ha

  15. Wow, your words are just as captivating as his. I like that survival is reliant on our memories; tearing up those roots is a way of devolving the human spirit. You've painted many pictures here. Beautiful writing. Thank you for being such a wonderful friend. Love