Adonis Diaries

I created my Island (August 1, 2009)

 

I did create my Island;

Circumstances forced me in that direction.

You are no longer free to have your island;

You have got to wriggle among the living men;

Trying to move; not necessarily forward.

You are wearing a cheap wrist watch with compass,

Always pointing north

Where prosperity is waiting for fresh hungry slaves.

 

There are no longer fields of wheat to plough and saw;

For solitude in the clear and clean wide space of dirt and sun;

To find shelter under the shadows of trees;

To listen to birds’ singing and the rush of insects and reptiles.

Only rice growers are still working in the fields;

Splashing about knee deep, in damp and humid climate.

 

You are no longer free to raise livestock

In the open air, buffeted by the wind and the drizzling rain.

I did create my island;

A room, my study room, barely any space left for any more books and papers.

Constantly battling to safeguard my study room from rental prospectors;

Lucky me they never liked it enough;

But it didn’t matter for the relatives:

They have always excuses to asking me to vacate my little corner.

There are never incentives and baits to attract me;

Imaginations have mostly lacked about.

 

I did create my island.

There was this window of opportunity to re-accumulate cards;

Credit, debit, driving license, ID,

Insurance (health, life, car accident, fire risks);

Cards required by government, municipality, local officials,

Syndicates, associations, and universities vying for the little you saved.

 

For too long every slave wanted to tame me, frustrate me, vilify me,

Trample my dignity, harass me, and mock me.

I did create my island.

Every slave, claiming to toil for self-sufficiency and independence,

Wanted me to slave like the rest for stipends;

To own a TV, a car, an audio-visual system, like all the others;

To buy toys, gifts, flowers, a concert ticket to socialize as regular guys do.

 

They want me to re-live the delusions of youth,

Purchasing more highly performing gizmos;

To increase profit in expensive audio-visual design businesses;

Equipments quickly becoming obsolete before recouping the investment.

Select clients of vegetarians and environmentally friendly.

 

They want me to emulate the prematurely aged married couples,

The decrepit singles huffing after faked dreams.

They want me to work in fast changing jobs;

Jobs no longer performing and contracted out overseas;

Workaholics clutching on steady boring jobs.

Engineers for vacuuming carpets, dusting off chairs and sofas;

Engineers for waxing floors, for cleaning rooms, for sanitation tasks.

Engineers for maintaining water coolers, air conditioners,

For re-arranging furniture, re-designing cubicles,

For the fresh recruits, the newly promoted with a view

To a smog city, dirty rivers, and cloudy sun.

 

I don’t like driving no more:

Accidents occur close to destinations.

I don’t mind dying no more.

I refuse to die in a car, a train, a ship, or an airplane.

I refuse to die in a mining tunnel or an elevator.

I would very much love to end buried under the rubles of an earthquake,

Incinerated in the lava of volcanoes,

Swallowed whole by tidal waves.

 

Mass burials are far more solemn and less costly;

A mass burial is an equalizer, a reminder of the power of nature

And its equity; a fitting end;

Earth to earth; where are you man? Who are you man?

Mass wedding is also so far more solemn and less costly;

At least you got a proof that your wife has sense of humor.

 

I do need to sell my old car but there are no takers;

In a snob society were high school graduates expect new upscale cars;

Elevated 4-wheel for the girls and two-seater for boys,

To compensate their hard sloppy study years,

To corroborate the unlimited ego of sleazy parents;

Parents mourning their young kid, a week later,

For a lethal car accident of no fault of their “gorgeous” slightly tipsy kid.

 

Middle aged women patronizing every “charity” eating fiesta;

For breakfast, lunch and dinner.

The same old faces, same photographers, same magazines

Exhibiting our national pride.

Ladies complaining of the hard task of changing dresses three times a day

To honor their husbands as the most elegant and expensive ladies around.

One of those ladies was honest enough; she claimed that the economy is

Turning over on account of their beauty business demands.

 

I did create my island.

It doesn’t cost much;

A few borrowed books, recycled papers,

A functional word processing computer,

A USB that I called UBS for too long;

Recalling acronyms was never my forte:

I never joined an army or its strategic branches;

I never worked for a multinational or its strategic arms and legs.

 

It doesn’t cost much to be free;

A free internet access in a private library,

Walks in nature, working the garden, and growing salad ingredients.

 

Creating your island is not an easy process;

It does not cost much to be free;

The only exhausting expense is not financial;

I have none to exhaust me any way.

It is fielding the neighbors’ innuendoes, sarcasms, mumblings, and calumnies;

I avoid like the devil to meeting one.

They flee their homes on the good excuse of going to work

They are busy bodies going nowhere.

Neighbors who flee homes early to read leisurely the dailies;

In their comfortable offices and drinking countless cups of Turkish coffee.

Sweating for nothing; returning home disheveled,

As if out of a battle for the survival of the fittest.

 

I created my island;

I did it;

It feels good to me.