The pressure of life weighs upon us,
Presses upon us—
There is no relief from the expectations,
From the “opportunities,”
From the responsibilities.
Each day I see people being swept away,
Away from peace and contentment,
Swept toward frustrations,
Toward commitment,
Into expectations,
Commitments,
Obligations,
Into more and more work.
We are born into this.
Born into the rat race,
Desperate attempts to “make it”
But can we?
No, we climb,
Fight,
Bite,
Kick,
Scream,
Cry…
No one hears
And no one cares.
We are born into this life.
And all we want is to die.
To escape.
But they won’t let us.
Everywhere I look there are more of us,
More and more who just want “out”
Who want “done”
Want “enough”
But enough, done, out—they never come.
Born into this mad world
I do not wonder why so many
Many of my fellow people
Do not wish to numb life away.
Or, that they do not wish
In some brief moment to slip away.
I wish for that.
I wish for the relief of chemicals,
Prescription not required.
Raised in a world of
“Better living through chemistry”
Raised after a time of
“Just say no”
Raised still in a house of
“We don’t have those problems”
We are born into this.
Into candy dishes filled with pills,
Some will thrill,
Some will chill,
And some may even kill.
We are born, begging to die.
What other choice is there?
Too expensive to live,
To eat,
Too expensive to drive to work,
To live close enough to walk.
Too expensive to be sick,
To call in.
What choice do we have?
Just work
Work more
Be better
Say yes
Hustle
Grind
Thrift
Coupon
Save
Count pennies
Count blessings.
“Oh how fortunate we are to be alive”
We are born into this mad life,
And many, many, many,
Wish to be done with it.
I cannot blame them.
I do not blame them.
Each day, I wish it too.
As the world grows more mad,
The carefully mad world demands more.
More talent.
Effort.
Motivation.
And everywhere I look
I see people oblige.
What will happen to them all?
When there is one last job, house,
Meal?
What will happen.
We have been born into a world,
A world where it is cheaper to go to prison,
Easier to steal than to find a job.
Into a world that curses you,
Spits on you,
Degrades,
Abandons you.
I want release.
We all do.
Until then, we fight
And riot.
Begging to be heard.
We are born into this,
We kill each other
Because of this.
We do not kill those responsible.
Only each other.
Roving bands will sweep this world,
Sick of not being enough,
Drained from always being
Less.
There will be unrepentant murder.
As bodies line the streets,
It will still not be enough.
Never enough for change,
Only promises.
We wear the scars of these promises.
Visible scars,
Hidden,
Inner scars,
Until we finally believe it.
That we are not enough.
That WE don’t matter.
We hear it enough,
We begin to hold it to be true that—
We can never succeed,
We can never get ahead,
We do not deserve to.
Why would we not riot,
Fight,
Murder,
Drink,
Fornicate,
Numb the pain with powder or smoke,
Needles or pills?
Why would we not just stop?
Some of us have.
All of us wish to, at least once.
But,
We don’t stop.
Why don’t we,
Why do the countless masses
Remain?
Because we are here,
We are born into this.
To quit is not human.
To give up,
Give in,
Fold under the pressure.
That is not how we are,
We humans are more.
Our own worst critic,
Enemy,
Impediment to contentment.
But,
Is there something beautiful
To this painful life?
We are born into this world
Where choices matter less
And our peace less.
But,
We have a chance to make it matter.
To give love,
Acceptance,
Grace,
Peace,
Absolution.
Born into a world where it is easier
To hate than to love.
Why don’t we say:
Love more—
Listen better—
Forgive easier—
Share freer—
Instead of:
Work harder…
So,
Take the chance.
Matter more to strangers and neighbors,
Love because they matter too.
Listen because they wish for the end,
Forgive them because we have too.
Share what you have,
Work harder for others,
Not only yourself.
The pressure of life weighs upon us,
From the first breath
To the last.
So lift each and every one up.
Because,
We are all
Born into this.
Inspiration taken from Charles Bukowski’s “Dinosauria, We”
Not that everyone else hasn’t done a wonderful job, but, Alice, this is really awesome.
I admire your courage to jump right in with a creative piece!
Thanks for the read!!
Alice!!!
:snap snap snap:
Well done!
I love the changing refrain / theme of being “born into” and how that changes. “candy dishes filled with pills” is devastating and so much here resonates with this sort of forced acceptance of the status quo. I appreciate and value the resistance in the end to that sense of suffocation. I do look forward to learning more, by way of a sort of prose explanation of your poem, which poets we read this week inspired this response and how it takes part in a broader critique of the status qou that we see frequently in the Beats. Perhaps you can share some of that in class as well!