Friday, April 24, 2009


I am dumbfounded by those who so easily get bored with their lives with so much adventure, so much mystery in the world.
They become so jaded, so emotionally dead, so cut off that they miss the real thrill and passion of being alive.

It is far too easy to become jaded and bored in southern California and to forget the stunning beauty -- the oceans, mountains, forests -- all around us.

There's a teeming, spontaneous existence, an energy in the places and people in the air that is also easy to miss

When there's too much to take for granted, too much to deal with people turn hard . . . probably same as with all big cities.

I wrote this following poem about some people in L.A. who have lost touch with the possibilities beyond the jaded, the mundane and predictable.

This affliction of ennui as the French call it or boredom as we call it . . . is something I never have the time or inclination to experience.




You are
with each breath you take.

Bored with
and boredom.

This boredom
is boring a hole
through your soul.

Even worse,
your boredom is blinding you to what
is really going on.

You remain oblivious to
another side of life,
wild and uncontrollable,
burning and thriving
beyond the
cracking sidewalks,
crumbling buildings,
arching, pompous skyscrapers,
crowded suffocating freeways,
concrete tombs,
apartment penitentiaries,
sprawling suburbs,
bar rooms,
throbbing concert stages,
multiplex movie theaters showing the same loud empty bombastic
film endlessly,
crashing waves,
dirty sand,
challenging mountain peaks shrouded in smog
and teeming
sweltering valleys.

There's a wild existence
marked by an eternity,
impossible to fully understand.
Universes unexplored,
collapsing into each other
like black holes right before our very eyes.

This hidden world
can easily be dismissed
with a bored stare
and restless jaded yawn.

Your boredom is like
an early death
as you sigh
take another wasted breath.

George Pappas
Copyright 2009

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