“The Message” Spoken word poem by anomalous.

Sitting there, where I had returned to that place of eternal repetition; the place of unendingness; the place where you do not pass until you become anomalous and pluck the all-seeing-sword from the dark blinding stone; finally, the place where hate looks like love, where selfish desires to know absolute truth are buried in the depths of selfless compassion. Here I sit, like an upside-down spider on a web, untwisting the copious strands of entanglement so an individual spark of light might permeate the fabric of reality. Frozen, in a cyclical moment, euphemistic words flowed on open air passing curled lips, sliding off of a split tongue; faithfully carrying the putrid vibrations of one whose belly is full of death. “Thank you for sharing this happy moment; this meal,” they said. [In this moment of space and time, I have inserted myself. I wish to tell them that my ears, eyes and mouth no longer belong to me; to tell them something profound in order to escape this feedback-loop; to wake them from their reverie. But, as it is with travelers and speakers of foreign languages, these things would fall on untrained ears and an untrained heart.] So, in an alien and unfiltered manner, without a mutually shared language, I commenced my utterance –further injecting new stimulus into the loop, like a ladder into a deep hole: “A happy moment? This meal,” I pressed. “You mean, this moment, where we keep our eyes closed, embracing ignorance, while naïvely destroying everything in our paths? You mean, casually sitting here on our plastic thrones and eating this “happy” meal without a prize at the end? A plastic wrapped, plastic trinket that comes at the cost of our air, oceans, forests, dignity, and lives. Should I want the chunk of flesh that has been ripped from beneath the skin and atop the bones of an ugly beast? Should I want the metallic taste of blood from the muscles and organs; to taste fear, in the absence of life-force from a no longer breathing creature? Should I love animals as such: to violently destroy their essence; to violate their bodies; to hear their noisy screams and judge them meaningless; to devour their children; and all the while, it’s called a happy meal? If, indeed, your love for animals exists at all, I’m confused by your expression of love. If this is love, how did your progenitors manage to create you, and those before you? Or is it that you are a child of lust who comes from a long line of rape, slavery, torture, and beastly servitude? In either case, the time for passivity has come and gone… Awaken! …awaken, you! Ask yourself the question, “Do I exist? Does love exist?” But be wary of not finding the compassionate and true answers. I have been sent with a message. I am responsible for the message. The message is my own, which is: The poles are flipping; that which was cold, is becoming hot; those in last, becoming first. You see now that times are changing. I will tell you this in your tongue so you might escape your loop: Love for the animal wanes, but waxes with new intensity for humanity. Humans will be loved as fiercely as they have loved the lesser beasts. The love will be a gentle fire as it has been with the beasts. There will be little discrimination against you. There will be enough love for each, you, your children, your children’s children. We shall savor each of their flavors and nothing will go to waste. You will be pleasantly boxed, appearing fresh, with your smiling faces. Be happy. This will be done when unexpected. And until then, you are free-range.

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