Cross My Heart and Hope to Write


Sunday, July 31, 2011

Qygen: Confessions of a Super Hero

Caio! I have just returned from the wonderful land of Italia after a month spent studying abroad in beautiful Roma. After traveling all over the country, I'm still very much digesting everything I've seen and experienced. I can assure you, though, that there will be photos up soon (I have a few to add to The Heart Series).
I was, however, quite anxious to get back to the blog. Though I didn't have much time to write while I was there, the experiences certainly refreshed biding seeds of inspiration in me. I can feel their feeble shells beginning to blister.
Seeing as this opportunity has proven to be one of the best experiences of my life, I figured I would share a poem which I consider my own personal axiom upon my return. I wrote it way back in senior year of high school and have since revised it a few times. The name is gibberish and was created accidentally while completing the Chemistry Regents exam in a quiet gymnasium filled with feverish students. I was attempting to write the word "Oxygen", whereupon the X and Y combined to form a hybrid letter, which made the subsequent word resemble "Qygen". I found it quite comical and began to laugh unnecessarily loud in the silent space. That accidental invention of nonsense, which evoked a rather spontaneous burst of enjoyment in me, seemed to represent my character most appropriately. As all humans do, I have since matured and changed, but the principles and ultimate message of the poem still rings true with me, and I still return to it as an example of my own personal philosophy.

Qygen: Confessions of a Super Hero

I have this seething desire,
this responsibility,
this vex:
I must get my hands on you,
wrap you up like china
and coat you in a solarium of Kevlar,
resistant to the groping hands of man
satirically reaching out for love...
Quietly, I conspire,
hiding in the shadows,
burning like a fire.
My mind moves at a googolplex per planck;
I feel like I know something that know one else knows.
Perhaps everyone knows what I know,
they just don't know that they know it
or perhaps they don't want to know.
Perhaps... everyone knows the truth,
but are too afraid to pursue it.
Everybody is tossed into the gambit,
competing for the prize,
the orgy consumes,
while participants juke,
a frenzy ensues
severing tongues and gouging eyes.
I often find loveliness in crowds of filth,
in places where others find only filth,
and filth I often find in droves of agreed upon loveliness,
but maybe it's just because I'm looking for it,
rather than seeking to define it.
Beauty is as beauty does,
and beauty is all around me,
dizzying and intoxicating,
just as it should be.
I am a zealot of such prophesies,
a savior for the misplaced or lost,
for the whitewashed and painted over spirits in your hearts.
I wish to shale the boughs and break them,
untangle you from your suffixation.
I cannot hides my love for you,
for life,
and all it's fickle vicissitudes.
It's ever-present, omnipotent,
this desire to take you up in arms,
to educate you,
for it is said that knowledge is power,
and with you as the weapons
and intellect as the ammunition,
we can take back the world.
I am one without a soul behind this uniform;
a cruciform uniformity.  
I am man's martyr,
for I wear my soul on my sleeve,
for all to judge and charter.
And to what extent shall I wager myself?
Shall I sacrifice for you?
Well, for you,
I would sacrifice it all.
"For me," you wonder,
For you...
your flesh is vindication enough,
your soul, more wealth than the world could muster and waste.
I take pride in indulging in every taste,
and face.
Yet, there are those who could never see what I see,
understand what I understand,
and it is that bliss of ignorance that all too often corrupts man.
A zeitgeist reining down over head,
scouring over, like locusts, this place
shackling your heart and nullifying your mind,
obliterating that which it tries to replace.
I'll be your tourniquet,
your shoulder,
your prosthetic,
your crutch,
your knees,
your breath.
I'll be your blanket,
your gauze,
your cast,
your pillow,
your needs,
your strength,
your friend.
I grant you the opportunity
to walk hand-in-hand with my heart.
Try to trust my silliness,
for salacity is not the cause.
I want to cradle you,
heal and hold.
I wish to deluge,
to wipe away the saltiness you wear on your cheeks like rouge,
be there for the overlooked,
and hidden.
My plight or my gift,
I pursue this novelty, smitten.
I'll take you in like abandoned rubbish,
a discarded button,
a broken toy.
I'll embrace,
and spoon-feed
every girl and every boy.
I challenge you
to put me on trial for my crimes,
for the love of humanity,
for the love of your life
and mine;
to assassinate me,
to turn your cheek
so I can cock it back and kiss it,
for once you learn to love yourself,
you can learn to love everyone else,
and when you teach everyone to love themselves,
everyone will learn to love everyone else.

I also want to announce that there is now a Twitter page under the name "TheSvenBo". Feel free to follow that page as well. Toodles!