Natural Science vs. Philosophy
Whiskey can stop a cowboy,
and age a dog.
Candy can stop a baby,
While water will quench a fire.
Science may (dubiously) stop a pandemic,
and a Bible a bullet.
But if you think it’s the space between that holds back a tiger…
Well then, remove the bars and let’s see.
(Hang on though. I’ll watch from over yonder)
The Cage; A Mere Pastiche.
Many prowlings; tos and fros
Have played their part in what she knows.
The shadows cast through iron bars
Tickle free her memoirs -
Captivity's what makes her wild;
Spoiled, pampered as a child.
When hunger wracks the beast, she purrs...
None hold her back.
The bars are hers.
the cage is not only bars
when i was about fourteen, i got my first job. working in a mini-zoo. it was mostly feed and clean stuff. and we had no tigers. the only vicious animals we had was a lynx, a pair of foxes and an owl. creepy animals all, that require living pray regularly, which was mostly either a mouse or a chick. it was insane to feed them. they all eat other things apart from that mouse, but they go crazy with excitment when you come over with the feeding pail, which contains eggs, veggies, meat, fishheads and a small container with the mouse. you put all the food in its place, you clean what you need, and only when you fibished your bit, it's mouse oclock at the fox cage. open the littke tupperware with breathing holes AND RUN!!. never look back.
one the cages had this double door thing, that a pulley and a weight get the doors shut, so there is no spillage of fox-related insanity into the general public. well. one day i came in, and in my idiocy, i left the bucket away abit beyween the doors. i aimed at cleanibg the floors and the watering trough. foxes have a very bitter kind of stink. very similar to weasel or even skunk. (another proof that they are related..) and it was something i hated doing. i didnt mind the hostility of goats and horses. their stink seem natural, and healthy somehow. fox stink is just evil.
anyway, im trying to get the clean up over with , as the evil duo go through the food i left them (which i dutifully cleaned first) . and the bucket was behind me and the mouse was inside it. and as i was finishing up, i saw that to my horror, both doors were open! the foxes kept eating, obviously noticing the little slice of freedom they were given through my stupidity. they noticed but did not run out. i would never have been able to stop them. they run insanly fast. yet they stayed, happy in their spacious cell, and waiting for the mouse.
another job i had, was in a dairy farm. we had about 600 head and large enclusers with neat paths and locks, to lead the cows to get milked. they were divided into age groups, and most of the time made absolutely no effort to jump the rails which made up their fencing. we milked (or as i prefer to think of it-sucked the life out of them) them three times a day. it was a good job for a student, cause you could do a night shift or an very early morning shift. one night, as i was bringing up a group of cows, i saw that a mass of these glorified milkboxes with legs were running around outside. this was a stampede that i was witnessing, and the cows could have seriously done some damage.
i took out my phone. called the boss. he told me to finish milking and that there's pretty much nothing that me or my partner can do about it.
"aren't you afraid their gonna get lost?"
i asked. he sounded pretty cool about it.
"neah. they are afraid of the road. they see those little glass reflectors on the road and it terrifies them. just do the work and i'll get to rounding them up when they get tired.
it was that simple. the cows could have walked up the rise of the rode and started running around for real. but they just stupidly ran in circles again and again until the boss came with his tiny scooter and drove them back in.
Lessons from a Passing Carnival
A tiger in a cage
pacing toward a memory
its paws had never known
the town folk jostle each other
excited to get a glimpse
of something so wild and rare.
parts the stench of corn dogs
and livestock born to be devoured
the tiger's nostrils flare
to breathe free for a moment
the fragrance of sun drenched fields beyond
in naive recognition
a balloon handed child
steps close to the sad yellow eyes
whispering through blue snow coned lips
"If I am brave enough
to put my hand up to the bars
the kitty will come over
press its head to my palm."
I have been called a basic white girl. I have been the victim of ripped tights under too-tight dresses, unshaved legs hidden, a secret dirtier than what lies beneath. I am too busy taking selfies to see what I really look like.
My voice is shot through like opaque glass, never showing the original hue. I couldn't last two seconds in a bar fight. I stand for nothing. And yet I crave originality, I have a desire to be heard, with a voice that does not shake with self-consciousness.
I have rage, I really do. I just don’t know how to throw the first punch.
I am of the Divine collective and as such, even though I have the power to
crush anyone or anything who would
provoke me, I strive to be mature enough to remember that I don’t have to revert back into my carnal state when I am triggered.
Everything and Nothing
Who am I to question emotions? Who am I to question what I feel? Who am I to throw away emotions I don't like? Who am I to turn it all off?
I don't know.
But I do it anyway. Anger helps no one. Give me a second, and it's gone. Sadness is weak. Takes a little longer but I sweep it under just fine. Regret doesn't even exist here.
That leaves happiness and fear. They fill up the empty space. I'm always too happy or too scared. But I'm not really. That's how I react with all I've left myself. Is empty fear a thing? Empty joy? I'm not pretending, but it's not true either.