Betsy Calabaza

On the shore


Wave, wave, wave

Jagged rock losing its edge over iteration

Round pearls washing ashore

Reflecting the also round moon

My cigarette also without edge

A custom started thousand of years ago

In a hut with bush leaves and shamans

Until the iteration concentrated

Into a filtered…



While probable that I am wrong, while does not discount the idea that I am

I am neither less or more whether I am right or wrong

In either case I am

To be seems controversial to some, yet to be is

And continues

A change of opinion does not…



To grant trivialization,

To ignore the poor, downtrodden, intellectually incapable, mentally unwell, those in need of support, those without resource

We laugh and merry in our preference and privilege

It’s sad, and we shouldn’t laugh in their face

Behind them, we might giggle, or merely shed crocodile tears

But within…



While a foreseeable future a bit blurry,

Immediately made clear with some squinting

The strain on the eyes itself shows a game of sorts

In the strain we have hands that can be tipped

Play it close to the vest because

The squinting strain shows potential stress

Made less severe…



From afar

The immediate, undenialability of reality

Pushes against a non-resisting element

Defined by a persistent defiance

A defiance made real by an imaginary creation

Of what non-resistance should be

The immediateness becomes a piece of glass lost at sea

In angles, the interruption of the glass creates conspiracies




Betsy Calabaza

Betsy Calabaza

blooms — crazy rants masked as abstract experimental philosophy. s/o CS Peirce