I Am a Citizen of Nowhere!
TO ANY BUDDING BUREAUCRAT OR APPARATCHIK OF THE STATE who may imagine this is their concern (although it’s none of anybody’s business [and yet, in a way, it’s everybody’s too]): I AM A CITIZEN OF NOWHERE — inhabitant of déjà vu. For I am not part of this wasteland world. Where I come from, a thesaurus (that is, a treasure-chest) of gemstone words has swirled inside all heads from long before they were a twinkle in an angel’s eye. Where I come from, it is irrational to fear to die — unnatural to never cry with tears of blesséd joy. Where I come from, bureaucracy would never calcify the limitlessful urge to vilify the fetters brandished by the ones who kill imagination with their social engineering and their crass indoctrination, making folks like me report to those engaged in geographical brutality. Where I come from, there are no passport checks or visa forms — no “Papiere bitte!” from troopers storming on my sphere — no apparatchiks wallowing in their propensity to interfere in the private lives of humans in their little zone. (Oh, how I wish that, here, I was an island population of just one, alone!). Here’s news for you: You’ve got no papers on me, baby. Heck… “I ain’t even got no papers on myself!” 🤣 You want to control me — make me just like you, with your feet comfortably under the table of nothingness — your view no further than the end of your Pinocchio-nose, which grows and grows the more you kid yourself that forcing folks to fawn before your god-of-keeping-tabs-on-everyone is for the good for all. I hear another [higher] call, from way beyond imaginary borders of the road or mind (my sense of self is limitless and free, I find). Where I come from (I didn’t always hail from there but chose it as my home when I was homesick for a better place than this), we do not pay for anything as everyone’s a servant to each other so that we [that is, the growing few of us who’ve switched to other worlds] can gladly bring before you only gifts (although that seems to trigger all the raging of this world’s inhabitants, resulting in a dark unwholesome rift [the which, in fact, does not, in truth, exist]). I am not from your prison-planet’s high-walled shores. For I am merely passing through — a temporary visitor who’s temporarily partaking in this tale of ‘me and you’. The crucial difference is that I acknowledge I’m a creature through and through — some crude and very basic clay within the fingers of a Master Potter who has thrown me as a fragile vessel to this world where most have misconstrued their origins, believing they’ve evolved out of a “cosmic soup”, so consequently they are hostile towards any group which will remind them that this soup has been invented to deflect their minds and make them blind — for when that soup goes in their eyes, they cannot see the Potter who’s the answer to the plethora of “whys” which plague them secretly within this world where only compromise and mediocrity prevail on a sliding scale of 1 to 20 grand. Where I come from, a soul can freely perch itself upon a cliff without being plagued by those who tell you that “it’s dangerous” or that you’ll have to pay them rent, for where I’m from nobody owns a single cent or plot of real estate, for all was moulded by the Potter who I mentioned here above, who is the One who allocates our perches as a holy act of Love, with all of us as mere custodians of treasure for a little while (a holy fact which manifests within me as a holy smile). I AM A CITIZEN OF NOWHERE (well, nowhere that this world would likely know; though I would dearly love to take you there, if you will let me introduce you to this nowhere’s lava-flow). Where I come from, we are a myriad of tiny islands [open land, no need for caves] scattered all across a sea (although we are in secret joined beneath the surface of the waves). It’s like a sacred archipelago. So would you like to go? I’ll lead the way. And finally, to all those bureaucratic, autocratic, stuffed-shirt form-fanatics, brandishing your phallic-symbol semi-automatics, not allowing traffic either way… please step aside to let us through. The Potter will [this I can guarantee] be pleased with you. 💖
© Alan Morrison, 2018