I’ve turned my back on that jungle

Tell you what
they will start by calling you
babe or gal.
When a bloke, who’s learned History of Fine Arts by rote,
joins his thumb and index finger in a circle and wears a warm smile
it’s a sign, be mindful.
They will size you up against their divine nat norms
which they carry on their shoulders like
a bunch of kyanpankhaing sugarcane dices.

The arts history they stopped reading keeps flowing like a waterfall.
Thumbing through only the front pages of the tome they know well
they’ll gang up on you.
You’ll have to know how to show your own culture off
as gently as a she elephant walks.
You have no right to be rude.

For you to be you
you must turn your back on the jungle of divine nat norms,
and the jungle of divine nat norms of the divine nat norms.
Get the hell out of the bullshit jungle.
Forget the whole jungle thing.
For you to be you, you must wring yourself out of yourself.
You must learn to implode.
You must learn to grow a scut.
You must learn to take firm roots within yourself.

You must endure the sunburn.
You must turn into a tall tree.
No matter how tall you are
the divine nat norms, each time they want to let go a stale sermon belch,
will preach that you’re insufficient.
They will measure your work against
the ten perfections of the Buddha.
You are real, or you are fake,

they’ll make that remark.
Still worse they’ll say you are not that important and laugh out loud as if they couldn’t hear you breath within their earshot.
With some respect, they will let you sit at their table
and let you speak as if you were charred curry or burnt rice.

The divine nat norms are like that.
They are usually more big-minded than normal.

Imagine how big the divine nat norms of the divine nat norms are.
I am taking about their mind, yes.
You ought to learn big-mindedness too.
After you turn twenty, if you’ve done
ten songs,
ten drawings, or
ten performance sketches
you can claim that you’re working for
future generations.

I am being skeptical, of course.
Now let me get this straight.
There’re loads of histories left out in History of Fine Arts.
Around 200, 000 years ago
during the Stone Age
there were only 10,000 to 30,000 people.
All over the world only about 400 caves with
wall paintings from prehistoric times have been discovered.
Maybe someday someone will find you.
Maybe you will never be found.
What’s most important is
you keep doodling on a wall.
To be able to doodle
you must have earned sense and strength
from the physical and metaphysical loka.
Then you’ll find yourself.
You’ll see yourself.
You’ll probably see naive and idiotic human grandeur.
What I’m trying to say is this;

turn your back on divine nat norms,
go on and cross the great divide fearlessly. Every awareness is special.
Simple as that.
Just go on, go calmly the way of all flesh.
No matter what kind of tree you’ve grown into, there’ll always be other trees.
Tell me what’s there to get entangled?

2023