Notes from the Future Underground

(Love letters to Asia)

I snow dive into you
Like the air of Autumn beating
Against your chest, the yearning

Of youth that is no longer young
Trapped in an aging body
My face knows no mercy!
I am the dove of white stitching
With a heart for a stranger’s smile

I’m an open lake of enigmas and
Surreal plaything of golden leaves
If you wish to, look into my eyes

There is nothing but guarded purity there
An endless array of ideals before sunset
I’ve cherished things and people
I will never meet, never see
But simply by knowing they exist

I am made more noble, more caring
About a world that shows only
It’s rough underbelly, it’s trials and stupidities

A civilization so vulnerable that believes
Capitalism will last forever
But I see the cracks in the system
The memory of corruption bare
And I will not agree to disagree, I will fight

For a revolution if need be, while I am young
Chilled and numb, I will not take
My place among the profiteers

Who joyless create a dead world
I drink to my soul, with the straws of eternity
And have distance foundations in my view
I strategize with machine learning paradigms
For more than flowers of written down words

I strive for an Autumn of convergence
That won’t be attainable until many years from now.

P.S. Instagram is blocked in China.

It’s only natural

Your heart and my heart
They are not strangers my friend
We have met before, many times
Across the tenderness of the wayward sun

I’ve known you at dawn
I’ve known you in sunsets
While our minds are tourists
Our hearts were conversing

Not like lovers, but like seekers
You can run from anything dear
But life is where we meet
In the filled closets of our lives

Stupendous and terrified
Temporary and mortal, so vulnerable
I recognize it all in your eyes
I’ve been catching happy viruses from you

Out in the stars, laughing at how
Remarkably contagious all good things are
Where our spirits kiss in the moonlight
That’s where I want to stay forever.

New Instagram

To all my loyal friends on here and faithful readers, you know who you are. Can you please add me on Instagram, I want to follow you guys on there.

This is my current handle: https://instagram.com/iamwuji/

Braided on bended knee

It is love! white, lasting, forever love!
Which thus hath driven me
Away from all pride
Over to kindred peace

From social pleasure, and into
The native home of all hearts
My heart wanders on the
Underbelly of the earth

Women dance in my mind like
Empowering life and youth and sustenance
I am drunk in fortune
And inner prosperity which has

Emotions as bright as landscapes
And impressed upon my mind
Like Instagram glowing faces
With all the harmony that youth

Can drown our aging gloom
It is love! why, of course, reincarnated
In another form, we are all the same
In the confusion of the dream

We find our shared realities
Like sport, like blood caught in the throat
For eyes and innocence and essences.

Titled In Bold Below

Stay Tough Champ

There are algorithms that can predict
If you are a follower, or an innovator
They take your entire life and break it down
Into the analytics of your free-will

Urbanization is like an experiment
Where people are compressed
Into smaller places, trained
Where everyone is trying to be like

Everyone else, the same as being no one
We are taught to search for stability
Our parents remind us to start saving young
But what if, the entire system is unsustainable?

Economics like so many things, are the domain
Of dead white men from Europe
Old elite families who like to believe
They pull the puppets of the world

Social psychology can’t keep up with change
Neither can art, it just has its lucky super stars
Like some kid the New York times calls a prophet
Who appears to be some kind of junkie

There are algorithms that are trained on your data
What you buy, what you view on the internet
What kinds of people you are social with
What keywords you search, what kind of porn you watch

And it’s a disenchanting process to be reduced
To a trend, but experience is so inauthentic these days
There are these same internet sites everyone goes to
And we are raised to be strong, independent, alone

It’s elusive to be happy when we are disconnected
In our essential connectedness, like being
Surrounded by social media without true intimacy
So much for being a catalyst that turns misery into art.

Wuji on Instagram

 

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view @wuji_seshat_nidaba instagrams

Under my showerhead

Under my showerhead

Confession time, it has begun
I wouldn’t be who I am
If we had not met
Under the shipwreck
Beneath the trainwreck
Faking how little you moved me
I never told anyone, everything
Until I met you, at home
I walk naked still
Like innocence and fat
Not uncomfortable with themselves
I endure, but still think of you.

Follow me on Instagram:

http://ink361.com/app/users/ig-1812489367/wuji_seshat_nidaba/photos

global connectivity

it’s survival here, nothing new
lungs knotted by thirst
sunheat in our heart, starving to belong

it’s corrupt the way
the social feeds are telepathic
last chance for freedom
not likely, when water goes on the stock-markets

I’m pinned by this world
like as the love for my criminal child
the kind of wound that

is never quite urgent enough to heal
but sticks around like deformity
“heal the world”, there are too many
bodies you say to feed the planet

it’s survival down here, at the ends
stomach growling to be someone
heart’s pitter-patter against the gloom

our fragility was really contagious
the world learned how
to suffer together, it was a kind
of progress, to realize we all belonged

to the same economy, a doomed currency
where the sun was thrown, raised and lowered
for the number of years we had left

before some tipping point of our anarchy
until we have to depart, to say goodbye
we make do, with teaspoons and testimony
with words from vague saints who were cripples

we learned to see, a bit of ourselves
in everyone who suffered, in how they fought.

art courtesy of: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Global-Warming-86554791