Framings of Existence

This week’s poem marks the eighteenth entry in my series of song-inspired poems, and this one flits a little between the sci-fi and fantasy spheres, at least in my mind. It was inspired by ‘Pressure Off’ by Duran Duran, Janelle Monáe and Nile Rodgers, and hopefully, you find it to be an interesting combination of some different elements and descriptions!

First Poem In This Series: To Witness, To Behold, inspired by ‘Sowing The Seeds Of Love’ by Tears For Fears

Previous Poem In This Series: The Undead Youth Of Today, inspired by ‘Party All the Time’ by Eddie Murphy

Framings of Existence

There are two sides to the brain–
and note, there, the definite:
this is a specific in a lexical fog,
and I encourage and admonish
the taking of the definite
to mean yours.

Let’s compromise–this brain,
a brain, your brain, our brain–
separate it, for a moment.

Set it down on the table,
and observe the glistening folds;
well, imagine them, in any case.

Tell me, what does this collection
of nerves and goop and electrical pulses
really want? And consider only the brain–
here, we are not concerned with you,
but with that organ, that mass,
your constant skull-companion.

Why don’t I start? I know how jarring
sudden questions can be, whether posed
at you or your nervous system.

You see the two halves–outwardly identical,
symmetrical–well, I believe here,
in the division, we see two distinct wants.

One dreams of living among cosmic beings,
supernatural horrors of untellable dimensions
existing in a space we cannot comprehend,
and it wants not only to observe, but to equal;
perhaps it believes it can achieve this, or not,
but that is immaterial; the want is crucial.

And that is the joy of theory, is it not?
It is enough to point your finger, to link
the dots just enough, and to say: go, explore.

But you’re growing impatient, still not quite
up to positing your own imaginations–
but I said there were two, didn’t I?

The other wishes dearly for digital existence,
wherein it becomes a blip in someone else’s code,
able to hide in a classroom of 1s and 0s,
their flickering forms sitting with straightened backs
at tables with particle effects; blink and they’re gone,
the fragility of a system destroyed with one pulled plug.

Now, I never claimed to be performing
a medical dissection, did I? But here
are two framings of existence: go, explore.

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