kikou

The Musings Of A Soul Condemned
A ficticious** work of poetry by Natalie Davis-Lojka, AKA, Kikou

Everyday I fight the urge to just disappear and somehow carry on;

I don't have the answers,
I don't know who, how or why;

I am fighting to live;

There is nothing for me in this place, in this time;

The rush of survival will awaken my senses,
And I believe that it is my culture that is slaughtering my innocence;

But I keep it close to my heart,
As a reminder...
A reminder to live;

I will walk across the globe,
I will work as a peasant in the fields of third world countries,
I will embark on foot into challenging and
dangerous places;

I know that for myself, there is more out there...

I refuse to end it until I have searched the world over and know for sure that there really is nothing for me;

Maybe this awful, culture has lost its way,
But perhaps someone else, someone far away with a different way of life has seen the rapture of the passion of my angst and has been blessed with the relief of the martyrs passed on;

If I do decide to go, it will not be in vain;
I will scour the earth in search of material riches,
I will bathe my soul in the filth of exploitation,
I will be my own soldier,
I will be my own warrior;

Maybe I will die una bandolera,
Running through the llanos and into the Amazona,
Running from those that seek to kill me,
Running as I stare at last into the orange, sunset of the tropical and forbidden Amricas that hide my soul;

Or maybe I will just walk until I cannot walk anymore...

There are simple pleasures in life that remind me that there must be more than this miserable, predictable seascape of mental cacophany in which I endure;

Alas, dear friend, I do have hope!
I truly believe that I will find what's there for the sake of my heart,
I believe that my destiny is to search for it,
I believe that if I die still searching,
I will at least be at peace with knowing that I never surrendered to the hatred that haunted my flesh;

If those who cause suffering are the people who are destined for Paradise, then I would prefer to exist in Hell;
Maybe I am already there?
Or perhaps I am in Pergatory,
The Pergatory of my mind;

I have felt suffering within my chest so heavy that I have passedout and woken up in my own sweat, vomit and tears;
I have felt pain that is beyond a mental sensation, beyond a physical sensation and it can only be described as the deity of torture itself;

I was born crying,
But I will die laughing

*This work is FICTION! Please do not worry that I am some sort of tortured soul on a path toward suicide. I am a very happy, very eccentric patron of the arts --painting, poetry and modelling; I enjoy trying to stir and convey strong emotion in my work