Elefino

Trunken Horniness

Władysław Podkowiński: Frenzy of Exultations

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Elefino

Existence… exists.

It cannot be…

Created.

Destroyed.

Anything we might conceive as

GOD

Must exist within it.

There is literally—nothing—

Outside of everything.

“How can this be?”

It is. It undeniably is.

As to how it is possible

We might as well accept

That we will forever be

Crossing the elephant

With the rhino.

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Rommentary:

Perhaps the funniest thing about the old joke referenced in the poem is that we can theoretically, and perhaps practically, combine an elephant with a rhino with the use of modern gene tech, and even with such a horrific madness spawned before us, we still couldn’t say what it was any more than we can say what we are.

We can fix names to things all we want, but the name will never be the thing.

“Anyone who says differently is selling something.”

What’s most important: where we came from, where we’re going, or what we’re doing with the time we have?

What we’re doing with the time we have has a lot to do with where we came from. The habits of thought and action we’ve accrued today are products of the attempts we made in the past to fulfill wants and needs.

We dug grooves in our psyche. Did they become pits? Are we stuck?

This is why it is so important to take the time to understand ourselves.

Something which our compulsory culture conspicuously attempts to prevent us from doing by inundating us with work and societal expectations.

Where we are going will be, in the same way, determined by what we’re doing with our time now.

So it behooves us to remove ourselves from the grooves before they become pits.

Given enough time and neglect, pits become abysses.

I know about climbing out of abysses, folks, and I do not recommend it.

I do recommend that whatever our passion, whatever the work we do in this world, we should seek to explore beyond what we already know, into the unknown, into the mystery.

For we only ever know where we’ve come from, and if we keep going back to it, we’ll just keep going nowhere.

Here’s a funny image. The Ouroboros—the snake that eats its own tail. Imagine it looking at you sidelong, trying to speak:

“Mmmph. Mph mph mph!”

It might be trying to tell you it’s stuck. It’s choking. Please help.

If you pull the tail out of the snake’s mouth and throw it out into the desert, it’ll slither away, thankful, and all the other snakes will leave you in peace, and you’ll realize existence exists outside of the proscribed circles your mind has concocted.

It’s all good—and sometimes it makes great art!—to establish a groove and work in it.

But don’t let your groove choke on its own tail. Don’t let it become an abyss.

Bless you.