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Occupied

So, here
We are
They say so. So, I guess so too.
I’ll go with that. We are here, apparently.
A plasma membrane, and a billion years,
Boom, this consciousness writing on a laptop, a poem.
Or, maybe
It’s something else --
A third thing
Reaching in – the will, free
Reaching down deep
Low in me
Tugging at my guts
Across the edge of the universe
Through an atomic black sea
Piercing the fabric of matter
Through my skin
Settling in my shabby, ratty existence
Just to catch a glance of a sunset
Or to touch her hand, maybe,
Someday -- or not,
And by that feel it just the same.

Mission accomplished
Your toy is done

I’m alone
I’m aware
Somehow, all of it so vibrant anyway
Against the background of its absence.
Nothing left to do
At my age now
But breathe and walk and move
And maybe reach
Down for the hand, reaching in me
I feel love there,
Squeezing.
I see
The way home. Guiding me.
Is it me? This creature? Writing? Thinking? Or,
Am I the one reaching in?
Trapped in this skin
With this dipshit
Waiting to go home

Last few words: 
I had been thinking about this theme for a while. Then, all this came out last night in a 20-minute stream, and I decided I'd just let it be. I wonder sometimes, if i make my poems worse by editing them. I kind of like this one just like it is.
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content
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Comments

The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet's computer artificial intelligence:

The poem "Occupied" presents a contemplative exploration of existence, consciousness, and identity. It employs a conversational tone and a free verse structure, which allows for a fluid and unrestricted exploration of these complex themes.

The use of rhetorical questions and hypothetical scenarios effectively conveys the speaker's introspective and questioning state of mind. However, these could be further refined to maintain the poem's coherence and avoid potential confusion for the reader.

The poem's imagery, such as "a plasma membrane, and a billion years," "an atomic black sea," and "piercing the fabric of matter," is evocative and contributes to the poem's contemplative mood. However, the transition between these abstract images and the more concrete images of everyday life, such as "writing on a laptop," could be smoother to create a more seamless narrative flow.

The poem's ending, with its shift from introspection to a more grounded, physical reality, effectively conveys a sense of resolution and acceptance. However, the abruptness of this shift could potentially be jarring for the reader. A more gradual transition could help to maintain the poem's overall coherence and flow.

The poem's language is largely clear and accessible, which helps to engage the reader. However, the use of colloquial language, such as "dipshit," while potentially effective in conveying the speaker's frustration or disillusionment, could be off-putting for some readers. A more nuanced or subtle expression of these emotions could be more effective.

Overall, the poem effectively explores complex themes of existence, consciousness, and identity in an engaging and accessible way. With further refinement of its transitions, rhetorical questions, and language, it could offer an even more compelling and coherent exploration of these themes.

Please send feedback about Neo (our computer generated critique system) to https://www.neopoet.com/contact

in the inner world.
We all are made of the same basic slime,
and there is something that holds us all together.
This poem gives that feel. Nicely done, sir. ~ Geezer.
.

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

Thanks for reading! yes, slime and something to hold it together -- we will probably never know more than that! but still....got to try.

author comment

I Too, like your poem, just the way it is! It gets down to the nitty/gritty of the question on everybody's mind! I would not change a word of it! my favorite lines are:

Reaching in – the will, free
Reaching down deep
Low in me
Tugging at my guts
Across the edge of the universe
Through an atomic black sea

it is very difficult to choose, as there are so many great thoughts in this poem!
*hugs, Cat

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