Secrets of the SubconsciousSecrets of the Soma
We don't wear our mind on our sleeve
We wear our mind.
Our body is an extension
Of mental characteristics and environmental dynamics,
Like a suit custom-made from our past,
Each scar a sovereign of pain and knowledge,
Each flaw a feeling not forgotten.
"Fat thighs packed with childhood anger,
Baldness from trying to control everything,
Breast problems from refusing to nourish yourself,
Indigestion from gut-level fear, dread, and anxiety,
Halitosis from a rotten attitude."
As we speak, our cells are regenerating,
We are rewiring ourselves
According to what we THINK
The replicated cells are all confused;
They think MONEY is the same thing as WORRY;
The circuits have been crossed;
They think TIME is the same thing as FEAR.
You must synergize your synapses;
They have reconnected all crippled.
They think LOVE is the same thing as DISAPPOINTMENT.
They got all these ideas from patterns in your behavior,
And now like a run away disc drive, these patterns can't be stopped
Rather they are difficult to stop,
Because you can't just change what you do,
You have to change the way you think,
You have to change the way you live
Or suffer your untimely demise.
Secrets of a Small Synapse
It starts when you're young:
The bountiful brainwash,
Careful coloring books,
Rules, regulations, rituals, routines,
"STAY BETWEEN THE LINES,"
Wristwatches and Bedtimes,
"At 6:30 AM We wake up,"
"At 9:00 PM We go to bed."
It doesn't matter if you're tired,
"At 8:00 AM We go to school,"
"At 12:00 PM We eat lunch."
I don't need a clock to tell me
I'm hungry or tired;
I don't need the television
To tell me
What time it is.
The writing seems pretty clear,
The possessive propaganda,
Eat three meals a day,
Five food groups,
Fully functioning Fear
Those that operate outside the box
Are shunned and sequestered,
Denigrated and denied
Gifts suffer and
Dying in the stomach,
Where they grow into something Else.
Secrets of the Psyche
"All learning is remembering
What we have forgotten."
At the blessed birth,
At the dharmatic death,
The elusive Ego,
Not dipping deeply enough
To uncover ultimate understanding.
The original origins,
The destiny of the final destination
Is blocked by biological needs,
The message muted
Sounding like stale static
As harmony brushes by beneath us.
We vaguely feel the familiarity
Like a long lost home
We never knew we had.
Truth teases time,
Knowing the soul is forever,
The body will soon expire.
We know ALL
Only believe what we want to believe
And our frail bodies will die
Because of the fear that it is an inevitability.
Joseph DeMarco was born in New York City; he grew up in Buffalo, NY. He has taught seventh grade on the island of Oahu, Hawaii for the last ten years. He is the author of the novels Plague of the Invigilare, The 4 Hundred and 20 Assassins of Emir Abdullah-Harazins, At Play in the Killing Fields, Blind Savior, False Prophet, and Vegans Are Tastier. He worked on the restoration of Pu'u Kohola Heiau
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