A collection of thoughts on the evolution of our species
Is a group of humans a tribe, a flock, a gang or just a crowd?
Can we ever know who or what we are?
To seek yourself is the paradox of being human, but to define yourself is to put yourself in a box.
We know not what we are, for to get the ultimate definition of self is to change the self into something beyond definition.
We transcend who we are every time we learn something new.
Then what box do we put ourselves into? When do we cease being human and become something other?
Man-made mutations have perhaps stopped our evolution - we adapt the world to our needs instead of adapting ourselves to fit into the world.
We're at war with the world and with ourselves, but we're no match for either. Our violence is bestial at best, true to our nature as arrogant animals.
It is our curse to never understand ourselves in our current form, but that won't stop us searching. If that search is ceased, all meaning would dissipate and we would become the animals we are.
An evolution of consciousness - is this the key to human evolution?
The Scarab
I speak on behalf of all scarabs.
We’ve rolled our balls of crap
for over forty million years.
We’ve been here long
enough to know
when a species needs to evolve.
The Earth has become a sphere of human droppings
- but within that dung are eggs of change,
waiting to hatch into larvae and feed.
So, will you wait for Anubis
to open your mouth?
Will you be reborn
as something other than human?
Or will you roll
your faecal globe
into a burrow
of destruction?
Watching the Masquerade
I am the spirit of lost ancestry,
watching the movements of humanity.
People are becoming marionettes.
Everywhere I look, I’ll never forget
the soulless faces, repeating phrases
devoid of true meaning, as if possessed.
Once lined with wisdom, expressive faces
have been replaced with Ekpo masks*, excess
layers of makeup, botox and plastic.
A dangerous ghost wanders all nations,
eating life, devouring talent, mastic-
-ating soul; it’s known as corporations,
government, establishment, media.
So begins the human-robot era.
*Ekpo masks are still used in traditional south-eastern Nigerian masquerades, where the maskers impersonate ancestral spirits. The Ekpo mask in particular had a moveable jaw, allowing it to speak, and it is said to represent a dangerous wandering ghost. See the picture below.
Modern Man
I caught a glimpse of him.
He was sat on the pavement,
head in his hands,
feet in the gutter.
He moved like a stick insect
-a jerky motion
in no particular direction.
His predators were anything that moved.
When he spotted something threatening
(a lady struggling up the hill with a pram)
he blended in with a lamp post
as grey as his once tidy clothes.
He came close enough to make out his features
-like last week’s discarded newspapers,
forgotten stories hidden under growth.
His eyes were glazed, intoxicated;
they told of a family that couldn't cope
with his abusive addictions.
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