Out of Africa written
by the Danish author Karen Blixen,
also widely known
by her pen name Isak Dinesen
published in 1937,
the famous memoir
chronicling her seventeen years
living and managing
a coffee plantation in Kenya.
Thrice attempts resulted
in ignominious failures
(as applied to reading
said book from cover to cover)
after sacrilegiously abandoning
wading thru the thicket of verbosity
after abandoning perusing
said non-fiction less than
half-way thru
the swiftly tailored and harried styled
regarding literarily documented saga.
Usually, I feel exhilarated and gripped
with engrossing mental captivity
right from the get-go
upon reaching hint of expectant drama
some small number of pages
into the no mean feat of the author
to set the figurative stage
regarding ensuing suspense
and drama between
antagonist and protagonist
soon after turning the cover
after accolades cited
by various and sundry sources.
Ofttimes, I wonder
if those laudatory remarks
influenced by greased palms,
which magic of money
can move figurative mountains
and maybe even
giving superpowers to Sisyphus,
which supposed myth modified
to tweak the repetitive defeat into success
rather than discourage empowerment
to help a reader
put his/hers, him/her, abc/xyz...
suddenly gifted with the means and ways
to push thee boulder
(representative as an impediment)
to acquire a surge
of untapped potential energy
to transcend a physical, mental
or spiritual obstruction
while said individual diligently,
yet torturously infused
with steadfast strength
of body, mind and spirit
to blithely muster might
to overcome a real or imagined
beast of burden uphill
giving superman/woman
a run for his/her money
without breaking a sweat
and experiencing a second,
third, fourth...wind
to go the extra green mile
(analogous to the energizer bunny)
regarding to do more
than what any reasonably
sane person would never
in a millions years
witness a near miracle
when person under strain
accomplishes more than
expected, required, or obligated.
Try as I might
yours truly (me)
felt drowsy then fatigued
when reading a couple lines and/or
quite a small number ad infinitum
as eyes of mine glazed over
unable, unready and unwilling
to continue processing
the material gleaned
on the SONY external screen
situating myself lying supine
while tushy got comfortable numb
skull fully on the easy chair
before sleep overtook me in record time
and within a jiffy
the body electric
attempting to coax words
from me noggin
quickly slipped into dreamland
whereat the book in question
dropped onto the floor
forgetting which page number
I read for the umpteenth time
setting my sights at the mercy of fate
succumbing into the first law
of Sir Isaac Newton -
that being an object at rest
stays at rest, and an object in motion
stays in motion
at a constant velocity
in a straight line,
unless acted upon
by an unbalanced external force
thus immediately sliding
into the behavioral sink
of Old Rotten Gotham
finding myself in the company
of Batman and his sidekick Robin
who maintained an intravenous drug
buzz-feeding and compounding drowsiness
into sweet somnambulant state
(think zombies of sugar hill,
and one in particular)
barely capable to extricate myself
after feeling swallowed alive
analogous to Jonah and the whale,
whereby every former effort
to free this body electric
and break free and clear
from the invisible clutches
holding me hostage
(think kite eating Charlie Brown tree)
thus quickly relenting
to the aforementioned force of physics
rem cycles interspersed
with colossal animals
one would encounter
if held captive
within the carousal
of time millenniums ago
deep within the heart of darkness
characteristic of \"the Mother Continent\"
or the historical/literary term
\"the Dark Continent\"
populated courtesy
by a human league
of village people sporting Eumelanin:
a type of melanin
which produces
brown and black pigments
with higher amounts
resulting in darker
hair, skin, and eyes.