Geo editorials/:Coca-cola virus

The little symptoms I had suddenly grew fangs when a much needed sleep were hitched by an uninvited hairball… I would have felt warmth, if the spokeswoman’s words didn’t freeze all eyes from the group chat piercing a -9 depth and dragged me out from the delirium of an immunity reboot. I felt as if my head was chipped, inside of my stomach hung to the front of a freight train, speeding towards the ambiguous fear tie to backs of horsemen running off four directions. I was suddenly my friend, buffalo in the slaughter.

I knew how to tread though off-limits in the nuclear zones, spent a few nerve wracking years with a walking time bomb. I was no hero to my defenceless pasts, further flexed my claws in stages of feline evolutions, yet if I recognised something resembling a comrade even it has been long after the war, I’d still go and check for pulses of a limp curse, risk unwrapping darkness around loathings of my scattered self.

Anything can trigger radioactive waves of the terrorising siren in midsts of transforming zombies, but you either make a choice to keep your hands on the gun, or simply accept life- as the only duty. Hoping the sniper in the distant square won’t execute you when you crawl through the territory for medical enquiry. Distancing from anxious Hitchcock tension aggravated by my vicinity may have been easier, if I wasn’t born in the yellow hue of sublime, Taiwanese earth; never did I imagine, the colour of my skin or ethnicity, could be validity for unsettling division; but then I was a child… I have never felt more like a frog, in a pond full of newts right now.

Whatever we didn’t comprehend now has a face that reflects like mine, Asian and compliant in dystopian curves of flying wontons; flicker on the gas, I’m in, for another’s game; joke or not, wounded I was, by the distancing miles to faith I have, in another. As my memories of the old harmless laughter fades, into eerie echoes… a nightmare perhaps, but sadness nevertheless, I felt.

No concern can justify the conundrum, I gave up my attempts to sleep through intrusions of this public display, so called affection; since you know how much you are “a concern” when the weight of an unknown shadow has hunched over you to demand a confirmation, report if you were an infectious individual. The recovery to health was no longer enough, shot with a tranquillising dose of corona virus in speculation, and I comforted myself with long enclosure, reevaluating the betrayal (dramatically of course)… how else can I ease such incoming uncertainties. The little conversations between me and myself escalated to a compressed jar, where oriental bloods seep contamination into the consciousness field; and I am about to be a criminal for the unpredictable deaths to come, even if I have been at home for days, and days to come.

Once China declared lockdown, even the severity and comprehensible truth of of it all were riddles, most can only decipher the dysfunctions within small perceptions of a world we know, all justification is biased where sanity evacuates with the hype of global death tolls, speeding past our merry little ways. The delicious and productive China we know, arrested, trialed for the first wave of uncontrollable collateral walked right out of a 80s Sci-fi novel, free as clouds, by the silver linings of various predictions, claiming the vast space of our feverish imaginations.

The cruelty of Chinese live market seemed more unbearable, than the discreetly shredded baby chics hidden in golden nuggets; or the mass business of arms profiting, on killings from wars. Perhaps the karmic wheel from Chinese control of Islamic devotees, flipped the grand scale of global force against itself. Maybe how civilised we are as customers of selfhood in given identity, and culture, as a national, is to be determined by respectability of ceremonies we choose, sacrificing any creature underhandedly, including our own species.

The controversial measures we accept under different race, religion, policy, nationality, status, wealth or gender were made to measure, by the parties we endorse; we collectively choose to ignore most of the unresolved crisis, forever looking for next buzz; so our beliefs in how unstable the reality seems, eventually dissolve into comforts of our conceptual privileges. We fill our goals with attainments for the next new best “thing” even the thing itself becomes more illusive each step we take, each year we age.

Suddenly the bats are at the thrones for oblivious fatality of our own diseases, excel in all kinds of cruelty, torturing, oppressing our own folks, in deeds, in contracts of seeming kind exploitation, where vamping cooperations drown the deprived with inadequate superiority; where a title means convoluted corruptions in certainty. People have been dying all the while we were throwing parties for promotions of a new badge, or newly furnished offices, wasting away our excessive brilliance, vomiting stylish, cultured dignity in stages of self proclaimed successes; following the seeming lesser evil today, as the next most composed criminal. The propaganda king. This virus drives everyone crazy… or, was the craze already innate, and we are just learning to feel the way it already is crawling under our own skin?

The dead virtue crumpled our self composure towards ideologies of a better world, where we no longer pay any attention, unless we’re hunted down by radar sensitive flyers rushing out of hidden caves, from our collective darkness, infecting us with probabilities of chosen blindness. Will toilet rolls, and sensitisers clean away the blemish and blood on our minds, exploded in our own psychological violence, built in by external stimulations as entertainment? Nature gifted us a rambunctious punch, to rid us off our self indulgent mortality; swept up our cities to limbo, no need of atomic force. As a collective of it’s own destruction, we made the choices, to reap miseries with high self interests in gain. Ignorance, is almost bliss.

Looking at my disposition analytically whilst patching this self inflicted wound on my psyche; plugged the last of the Daffodils in the garden, seeded altogether nearly a hundred pumpkins harvested from Halloween carvings, and mystery marrows given by Taiwanese friend Grace; I’ve kissed the baby plants, excused my stumbling footsteps to worship Spring; the stinging nettles in my garden will be catered like the rose. Still the sense of undoing the real pandemic in our psych, is to hush the panic of needing and wanting a life in finite, and meaningless ways; our ability to cultivate simplicity, and bond to earth, has been compromised. The buds of greed pushed horns out of our sculls, and vandalised our sacred fertility.

China goes from cheap and cheerful to infectious and filth, at the flicker of an long existing virus; the withering lotus contracted a disease, from blooming to onlooking extortionists, now cursed internationally for recovering from a terrible fate of unproductive months, where families were torn apart by emergencies and deaths; and of course, international delays for overdue orders of goods. However, China will be loved again, for all those who are capitalising the affordable labours of willing hands.

Debating with myself weather I’m a danger to society… and if so, which part of me reflects the decent of longevity in the subservient casualty of an aged culture, engulfed by the lack of devotion to orientate oneself in ancient authenticity. I ran through all the thoughts in my mind with countless people fizzle in and out with static white noises, back to front, and side to side. Dizzy, the ethic I followed in my blood could turn out to be a lethal doze of virus to someone I barely touched, even if I was no way nearly dying of anything, but my own hyperactive mind and churning contemplations. I’m confined. Common sense is not valid this equinox; even when we’re not threats to ourselves… we may very well be grime reapers to unsuspecting others, all while avoiding a Coca-Cola pandemic that warp the world in bandwidths of a technological apple. Somehow if hearts of all the medical professionals would levitate in this dire time of devastation, we’d lived as better men, as a civilisation.

Here we hyperventilate, gather the traumatic aftermaths of many lands, lives of countless gouged from love ones without chances of saying a proper goodnight, I love you, and see you on the other side. The psychological carnage is beyond despair, like many wars before. Hearts lost in search of a reasonable explanation, death rests by our doorsteps, in spite of every last bit of denial we squander, we’re heading into a steadfast threat to our kinds. Minute by minute, frame by frame; an element of staggering fiction where an ultimate intelligence is fathomed by ourselves, borrowing our own fears to pierce dimensions in between and through 4th/ 5th densities with all our colliding senses, to stall an entry, for chance; to pinch a glimpse of eternity in the lucid dreamworlds, as we snooze our hungry advances, voluntarily die in the old world, where power, money, fame and toilet rolls were overpriced banality… just to be born again, into a world where each human is the key creative enabler, endorsing another, with currency of fluctuating endurance of infinite abundance, as light, substance, and energy.

MwLin/ Lyric dreamer

25 Mar 2020

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When the wind blows ~ Soar.

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