The Cosmos Mocks (for Rob)

I've been advised by this gray-suited goof
That my mots are not bon, that I need to be
Meaningful. Sadly, I haven't a lot to say.
Is there meaning in misery, meaning in being?
Is consciousness real, or a sort of a sleight of
The hand of necessity, nothing much? We
All eat. We all fight. We crawl over each
Other, and fornicate, hoping to save our genes,
As the universe grows. When it starts to
Contract, it will ruin those genes, and all
Life, which amounts to no more than a
Species of motion, will end. Later, as always,
Existence will start to grow larger again.
It will generate life, and, as has happened
Uncountable times, in a room on some
Planet, a being will learn that his mots
Are not bon, and he has to attempt to say
Meaningful things about life.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2010-06-19 at 16:52

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