Last Man/An Outsider: Poetic Reflections on Nietzche and Camus

By TTS Hussein


Have we became more than Nietzsche’s Lastmen?

Is Nietzsche proud of us for surpassing his prediction and philosophy?

Or he is ashamed of us?

Or he is repenting on his prophecy?

His Lastmen were supposed to be selfish,

Self concerned, more accurate, articulate and flawless,

Far better in everything.

Can you see what we have become by becoming Nietzsche’s Lastmen?

Where is morality?

The Earth is filled with pollution, both physical and mental.

But we deny and deny.

We, running after success.

We, wanting more and more.

Cells in hands running and running towards endless pursuit, of what?

Power, money and lust.

Facebook is life’s new reality

Suffered cries don’t melt down our hearts anymore.

Cries of the poor are lost in the air without echo.

We see their cries as opportunity.

AH!  Perhaps charity, PR success and success in corporate responsibility.

Rape, killing, violence shock none.

Just everyday news, like any other day.

We start wars in the name of religion.

At the cost of innocent lives.

At the cost of Human rights.

Where is new philosophy?

Where is literature? Where is the poetry that move you?

Lastmen, you consider poets to be unsuccessful scambags?


Money, power all that matter.

Lastmen you are advanced, civilised and modern.

But you become mute to the laws of killing gays by stoning.

Because the Lawmaker is the richest man on earth.

LGBQT leave motherlands out of fear.

Stateless people wait and wait to return to a homeland,

But geo-political economy and the proposed silk route seems more desirable to the world.

Nietzsche, are these the Lastmen you predicted, your Lastmen to be overtaken by your Superman.

Or has your prophecy surpassed you?

Are you still proud of your theory?

Nietzsche you looked into the abyss for a long time with your Lastmen.

And, now your Lastmen and the abyss have engulfed humanity.


…and then

…and then

…and then


I am the outsider,

I never felt affinity to the hypocritical society.

I can’t gossip and backstab, not qualified for this society.

I can’t easily mingle among the people with fake smiles, wearing deceptive persona.

Pretentious, full of self-obsessed people, life is based on a Facebook status.

Meaning measured in clicks.

Too virtual, too unreal.

They spread rumour, hatred.

They create a viral storm.

Yet they don’t have the stomach to visit the reality of that storm.

Where are the real people, who would rather come to stop these killing and lynching?

The killers and lynchers seem like zombies to me.

I feel alone. I just watch. Hypocrisy irritates me, falsehood hurts me.

I am helpless. I can’t post pic with fake smile.

I can’t pretend and shout aloud that I am happy, because I am not.

I am isolated, alienated.

I see people submerged in luxury, chasing, chasing,

Endless chasing after power, money, status and sex.

I helplessly watch and became unwanted and unfit.


I am the silent watcher like many without voices

I have no voice, we have no voice.

We are merely spectators of this new world stage.

I am the outsider.

We are the outsider.


Tabassum Tahmina Shagufta Hussein is an aesthete from Dhaka, Bangladesh & holds an MA in British & American Literature. Her Poems have appeared in Our Poetry Archive Anthology ‘Spiritual Poetry Beyond Borders’ 2018, The Pangolin Review, A Poem A Day @poetrypotion,Ink and Sword Magazine, Turnpike Magazine, A Tribute to Gabriel Okara Anthology, Academy of Heart and Mind, Tiny seed literary journal, Libretto Literary magazine, Our Poetry Archive Spirit of Nature Anthology 2019, Pomona Valley Review.


Poem brought to you by Cephalopress.

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