We all die. Relics left behind for others,
once culturally defined, a slurry now
of overcooked vegetables in the melting pot
of what humanity has become;

For better, we are more homogenous,
conferring fewer reasons to hate
that which is and ever was kindred.
Knowing this, do we truly taste the apple
sweetness of experience, or drum up
further excuses to postpone joy?

At worst, we forget our ancestors,
those from whom we inherit genetically,
even behaviorally, perhaps to our peril;
for history, devoid of lessons learned,
proves a hollow saga sucked dry of juice;
a dessicated plum placed primly
alongside a backdrop of ripe peaches,
fruit of our potential

What traces will linger
in this adolescent nation whose excesses
are counterpart to senseless severity,
an artistic strangulation where
even the Rubenesque among us
yearn to be thin and dry as wraiths?

A society threatened by hips and thighs
is doomed to infertility of the imagination.


14 thoughts on “Relics

  1. Interesting reflections Bela! Human behavior and cultural differences have not changed since times immemorial…probably due to inherited genes! Modern man has just learnt some refined and hypocritical ways to camouflage what lies within.
    Thanks for a thought-provoking poem.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Indeed I think you are correct. And genetics certainly might play a part, as does conditioning, obviously.

      One thing we love about living with Hawaiians in our small rural community is their almost total lack of guile. No camouflage, no agenda. It’s such a great example of how simply one can live life. A breath of fresh air. ❤

      Liked by 2 people

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