songs of a psychic seahorse
(faithfully translated from modern seahorsian
a fluid subaquatic language best known for musical candor
& dynamic counterpoint)
© stephen roxborough 2024
for the kids & parents
of our great global
dysfunctional family
foreword:
all 46 exquisite varieties
of the pipefish family known as
seahorse
belong to the genus
hippocampus
ancient greek for horse (hippos)
& sea monster (kampos)
the hippocampus is also a small
multi-layered region of the human brain
in the shape of a seahorse
embedded deep in the folds
of temporal lobe
the hippocampus
plays a major role in learning
memory and the regulation
of behaviors needed for survival:
feeding fighting & sex
hippocampus is also crucial
for long-term memory formation
& retrieval
the psychic seahorse sings new songs
of innocence & experience
depicting the practical & mystical overlap
of both
how teacher becomes student
& the perpetual looping after-effects
of quantum entanglement
when we become orphans
said the old seahorse to his fry
because our parents left the building
those two great libraries close down
the family tree splits into branches
that swim in different time zones
& often don’t loan to each other
who carries all the memories
of our primal personal history?
who cares about the great uncle
that became a conscientious objector?
who knows about the witty cousin
noel coward wrote songs for?
who remembers the relative
that struck a lode of alaskan gold?
who knew the internal psyche
of the world’s greatest oddsmaker?
who chooses what memory remains
& what gets rejected forever
as we all fade & eventually
evaporate into the next
in the beginning there was milk
wet warm & sweet fresh from
the source of human kindness
& the milk was good
until juice & fruit from trees
of the tropics introduced
a sweeter exotic temptation
yet when the grain of cane arrived
the brain went insane to the store
for the many flavors of more
then every day in the loudest way
the kids screamed for ice cream
& year-round halloween
seems even old men drinking
like teens can't wean themselves
still in search of human kindness
still boiling the brain to coddle
still sucking on something sweet
& fluid from a bottle
yet in the beginning it was fresh
from the source of human kindness
warm from the source of likeness
my generation started strong
scorned materialism
marched for civil rights
protested war
rallied for female equality
but in the end we turned out to be
another disappointment
war became a superbug
fast-talkers spread like oil slicks
news fused to propaganda
the giant anaconda of big pharma
swallowed us whole as corporate pirates
& spineless politicians
embezzled national treasure
then we sold out to hostile reptiles
for dollars & tiny pleasures
we got stranded in slander
scandal bankers & tangle
they brought us inside to hide
& divide us until we abandoned
our better angels
& collective casablancas
now i feel great communal shame
a deep disgrace & dishonor
for not fighting stronger
longer & harder
we didn't even pick up
after ourselves
the first time my son planted
a deep gash in his unblemished knee
& vivid burgundy gushed
down his leg
he ran to me in tears
because he thought he’d lose
all his blood & die
when i said let’s go to hospital
to get a few stitches
he ran away so fast
it took me three minutes
to catch & carry him to my car
i strapped him in his car seat
all the while he cried
i’m still bleeding!
i don’t want to die!
later that night
long after the kids went to bed
& the trauma of the drama
stitched & calm
i reflected upon
how i died a little that day
but it was a good death
over a glass of red wine i realized
we shared the same blood
& his pain became mine
kids think grown-ups have all the fun
they drive the cool cars & deluxe trucks
& always decide where to go
they eat all the ice cream they crave
& they’re allowed to be cranky & angry
snobby & snooty & stubborn & lazy
they don’t do stupid chores
or hours of boring homework
they don’t have to share the TV
the new computer or prize controller
& they’re never forced to eat liver
to be rewarded with sugar
they can demand peace & quiet
& get money from machines
they stay up as late as they want
go to parties whenever they like
& don’t need permission to see friends
play outside or eat the last cookie
they save all the best movies & games
& toys & drinks & drugs & fun
for themselves
best of all they don’t have parents
bossing them around anymore
to the kids it all looks easy
dream peach privileged
as if parenthood
is the ultimate superpower
adults think kids have all the fun
they get to race big wheels & spin
on a dime & laugh & crash & never worry
about collision insurance
they get all their food & clothes
& toys & soothing made & paid for
they’re allowed to be cranky & angry
& snobby & snooty & stubborn & lazy
while parents try to inspire their best
with the least amount of stress
they get spoiled & pampered & coddled
& every few years their private room
gets remodeled
kids get sheltered from the storms
& thorns of tides & divides of relationships
they’re guarded from the weight
& grind & fear of deadline walking
they don’t know the building pressures
triggered by bills & pills & grown-up ills
years ago we’d be beaten at home
& even school yet today it sounds absurd
for a kid to be seen & not heard
