Leave Me Behind
Leave me behind
(A response to the lifeless ‘argument’ – you’ll get left behind – when I declare I reject ai)
Leave me behind
Let me sit on my back porch and contemplate the sounds of my neighborhood. The squeak of a screen door. The cranking roar of a car brought to life. The echoing bounce of a basketball.
You can perform for unintelligible aura points while surrendering your sensible cognitive thought.
Let me shuffle quietly from room to room in my home. Let me be possessed by inexplicable ideas that float just beyond my peripheral – flecks of dust illuminated in the sunlight floating through the windows. All the while an imaginary to-do list flicks a tail my direction, trying to convince me of its importance.
Leave me behind.
While you use stolen glory to bedeck yourselves in regurgitated, mediocre wastrel
I’ll be laying in the grass, creating sea dragons and kind demons from clouds while birds gossip and my finger pads contemplate single grass blades. Meanwhile, my breath will begin an inhale through my foot soles and release it from my heart strings.
Hurry and strive to suck up all the water.
Use excuses that start with ‘but I only’ while you query unintelligible worthlessness.
Stand tall while you openly share how you giddily stand on the sea of life blood of a million creatives as you plea: How do I cut a recipe in half? What do I say in this birthday card to grandmother? How do I communicate with my ‘friends’.
Leave me behind.
While a machine steel-fully consumes your capacity for knowledge and leads you by the hand to wallow in the quicksand of idiocrasy.
Leave. Me. Behind.
While your malnutrition soul dries out
I’ll churn the cream into my coffee clockwise three times, stirring up soulful empires and enigmatic soliloquies.
I’ll ask the wind and the condensation on a half full glass of water left outside overnight the secrets of the universe.
I’ll consult the mores code flicker of a rosy candle and gasp the wisdom of imperfect petals from a pale pink rose.
While you bow your head reverently to the cult verse of the feckless ‘bros’ and witheringly bend your hubris until it is a twisted knot of deformity,
Leave me behind.
I’ll deliberately persist.
I’ll empower the humanity of the artist.
I’ll illuminate the oils, acrylics, watercolors and spray paints.
I’ll bask at the feet as the mummer’s tell.
I’ll buttress the spectacle of pen to paper.
I’ll inspirit the lifeblood of the collage.
I’ll venerate the rhythm of the poet.
Leave. Me. Behind.
Because I yearn for your perfunctory dribble to drift far far far from my wholly spirit.
