My response to Alarian's "to live with."
We are the earth. We always
Were, no more alive than
Tossing waters, winds, or
Planets passing dumbly
On their paths around
The sun. Our lives are
Pointless processes, in
Fact are fires, burning
Slowly, oxygen and fuel
Being turned to CO2
And waste, and what
Are thoughts? Oh, who
Can know? The pops
And hisses of the blaze?
They rise and die, not
Even ashes, and we
Flicker out at last, no
Different dead from
When we lived, and,
Though you shudder at
The thought, I suggest
Again there isn't tragedy
In this.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
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Written on 2013-10-27 at 14:32
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Material Comfort
There's no tragedy in this:We are the earth. We always
Were, no more alive than
Tossing waters, winds, or
Planets passing dumbly
On their paths around
The sun. Our lives are
Pointless processes, in
Fact are fires, burning
Slowly, oxygen and fuel
Being turned to CO2
And waste, and what
Are thoughts? Oh, who
Can know? The pops
And hisses of the blaze?
They rise and die, not
Even ashes, and we
Flicker out at last, no
Different dead from
When we lived, and,
Though you shudder at
The thought, I suggest
Again there isn't tragedy
In this.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 30 times
Written on 2013-10-27 at 14:32
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
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