death

A reflection/question/direction on Baudrillard’s escape from objectivity

Beyond Duality
are we
ready
for it
>/< ? !

“Perhaps it is to escape this terrifying objectivity of the world that we are currently derealizing it; perhaps it is to escape the ultimatum of a real world that we are currently rendering it virtual. For though it lends force to existence and happiness, the concept of reality even more surely lends force of reality evil and misery. In a real world, death too becomes real, and secretes a commensurate horror. Whereas in a virtual world we dispense with death and birth, as we dispense with a responsibility so diffuse and overwhelming that it becomes impossible to bear. We are doubtless ready to pay this price so as no longer to have perpetually to perform the overwhelming task of distinguishing between true and false, good and evil, etc. The species is, perhaps, collectively ready to reject the moral and metaphysical anguish which ensues from this and has eventually built up into a neurosis, as well as to reject the privilege of critical consciousness, and accept instead a liquidation of differences, categories and values. Perhaps it is ready to abandon transcendence and metaphor for metonymic sequences. No more polarity, otherness, antagonism, but, instead, a superconductivity, a static electricity of communication. Perhaps by paying this price we shall pass death by, in the transparent shroud of a made-to-measure immortality.”

Jean Baudrillard, The Perfect Crime, p.39

Under the Pregnant Moon

Something like bearing witness to a rape and murder

behind unbreakable glass. The air has been taken,

yet I do not suffocate. At least it doesn’t feel that way,

but I do not feel at all. Even anger and sadness escape me.

I am neither hot nor cold. Everybody’s gone,

but a ghostly reflection stares back through

from every direction horizontally.

 

I look up in

to the cloudless night.

A pregnant half-moon,

a trillion dead stars

make everything

clearer than day.

 

I look down upon my feet

an inch or two above the ground.

A lake of blood blossoms out

over the broken asphalt.

I am somehow spared the touch of the creeping fluid

spilled from the hearts of unknown men, women, and children.

 

Without knowing why, I expel what I expect to be a scream,

but not a whimper heard. Just a gust of icy fog that instantly

evaporates.

 

Is this reality?

Is this a dream?

Is this another place

between death and awakening?

 

sleep comes to gestating spring night

1 Million frogs
10 Million crickets
100 Million little rain drops bombing
the billions of blades of thirsty grass
threatened by dew-drinking mosses that will
replace the well-manicured lawns defying
our evolving climate.

starfish melting.
Blue whales
beaching up on shores to barf up a couple hundred kilos of cheap, convenient plastic.

Polar bears
vanishing
like arctic
ice
caps, we are
happily chirping
with chickadees
when the morning comes.

Buckle up tight and secure the oxygen mask to your face as demonstrated.
Prepare for final descent.

Namo vām

–28 Mar 2014