An Officious Visit Of It All Poem by Julia Luber

It was not supposed to be this way. An albatross has staged
itself in all my living arenas, where I once felt so comfortable-
where I had meditated myself to a kind of peace, despite. I
accepted it all as a peace despite. Aside, from the albatross:
the elephant in the room, considering a yard sale to create memories
for somebody, mementos that this was a place with a history
and memories at one time. Hidden in trinkets of value and time;
subjecting our tangibility to more of a rhyme than a crime.

But the only tangible consciousness my mind is aware of is a pure
and near fatal crime. And like it is in the most haunting movies and
even those captions on what Nazis were like on their free time in World War II;
they, the criminals, doing something so cruel and so unforgivable, seem
so completely happy, laughing away, jocular, at ease amongst eachohter.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. Dreams and dejavous and a sense that
so much of this happened somewhere in my mind at one time, it is all
rolling out a movie that was never supposed to be created. I suppose that
is why there are so many bad movies. Life did not end up what I meant by it.

And somehow its most derelict exploiters are sitting pretty by this. As if it were
all set up to induce them into being something they did not know how to become
themselves. As if they needed handmaidens to their identities and self conceptions
all along. As if they consider and contemplate that the dreams others are having are
merely the shells and envelopes to their real lives they have somehow masterminded
and plotted out to function according to some metaphysical quotient manipulated
by some temporal enthrallment of how image functions in some round about and
sun like reflector of manymany mirrors making and making some more-their identities
for them. I suppose it is how identity became so popular. How the voice and tone

of a beating heart and a dreaming mind got shackled to another's manifest self conception.
And they are busy and satisfied being this way. So like what the Nazis were like when
on film living their lives as the government's soldiers laughing with their buddies
and making babies for their wives. Somehow they arrested the development of the
dream to a certain time frame in their own development when a neutral pattern of
absent naturalism enforced itself over the psyches and souls of a nation, and they
found themselves genderless and choosing and sure to make an officious visit of it all.