Selfish-gene: wounded player’s ego zugzwang!


We have a mind

With a production of predesigned
cause and effect transposed.

The truth, no one understands
Where we stand
When thinking forward.

Why we are on this planet,
We are no more no less
Than an ivy, an elephant
A grasshopper or an ant
From birth to the widely accepted biological end.
That is from point A to B,
If we are lucky, I bet
As you and I would hope to do,
Confined in a jacal or a mansion with a view.

We reason from effect backward:
A aprosteriori as opposed to priori logical accord.
Since we are here
It must have been because
of this or that,
Refusing it could be a sheer coincidence.
Since we are obsessed with pukka,
An irreparable dukkha,
A selfish-gene vodka!

But be rich or poor,
Gifted or less-able
We are in a never-ending battle destined.
Just like swimming in a deep ocean,
With a little chance to reach ashore,
As that infested with sharks
Stay alive, no such luck.
To run full-course life pack.

Or looking on the positive side
Spend money like an addict,
Buy lottery tickets,
Day in day out,
Hoping to win a jackpot,
To consign for good poverty’s plot
Once for all with a buckshot.

Hopping against hope,
As if a drop of rain in a vast plane
Landing on your hand;
A probability that wouldn’t
Really happen?
Even if you turn limerent
To gain vajra’s oeillade,
Un elided showered with light.

Leave aside the leading role
We have assigned ourselves as patrols.
Our use of own made gadgets,
To overcome challenges
Even if it assuages the immediate pain,
Could be like going beyond the pale,
Nature permits to bail.
We would finally loose control.
Degringolade, downward slide.

Isn’t it like a chess player cornered,
No safe place to move,
that behooves,
Who decided to cheat
By extending the chase board
To avoid defeat;
And then admires his ungainly feat?

Or like Nero, who would go to bed satisfied as a hero,
Championship medals awarded
Not earned,
But for fear of his ruthless fist
when in fact he come out bottom of the list.

Or an election board chair
Inaugurated a dictator
a prime ministerial seat,
When the public knew he had in fact lost at the ballots.
But who dare would say it was a plot.

Yared Huluf

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