When we dress in phantom finery,
we can only expect disillusionment.
Choke ourself with all our fantastic desires.
Complete mental malnourishment,
from our heart deep self harassment.
Let small smiles slither away.
Gut with tender savagery,
aversions to avarice.
Self-servile self-worth denial,
wash small magic away.
their bodies d r
o o p e d over so much in fact that they had begun to scrape their knuckles along the floor, which is ironic because it almost suggests that this particular stairway offers a (spectacular) view of the (what one may call) opposite of the "ascent of man"; it could even be called the "descent of man".
let that be a lesson on why posture is important, less you find the need to climb up the descent of man stairs.
The outer world thundered as the faint score of the familiar FM station rang rhythmically.
I had heard the tune times before.
But on this wet October night there was something covert of the sound.
Not revealing and opened as other nights has been, nor exposing as I had expected.
The night held a warm chill, like crossing a threshold into a warm cottage.
I felt melancholy as I stared at the damp pavement.
I thought of every footstep that splashed through the gravel hole in the ground.
The same, damaged hole.
With preexisting wounds.
Battered and battered every minute or so.
No one paused in their selfish pursuits of daily life,
Only to shake off the transparent droplet,
From the soles of their shoes.
I had been bending over,
I used to do that for her.
Little did she ever hear,
Seldom she treasured ever.
Maybe I just can't get enough,
Never she went astray, though.
Determinedly I wasn't tough,
She managed to spoil the dough.
Perhaps life would someday shine,
Someone might come my way.
And then she'll be mine,
On this life's highway.
As possessions are our demise
Something we are taught is that we have needs and we have wants.
But what's the difference between greed and despair?
When you see those on the streets,
One would say they're filled with greed
Lying is their only deed
But another would say they're dripping with despair
Saddened and life's just not fair
So what's the difference between you and me
Well you have greed
But I have despair
We both see the same things
Yet we think so differently
What is the meaning of life? The meaning of life is to embrace the past, respect history, but not to dwell within it. The meaning of life is to be the best you can be, do the best you can do, at whatever inspires you. The meaning of life is to be constantly searching for yours. The meaning of "Life" is: "The condition that distinguishes animals and plants from inorganic matter, including the capacity for growth, reproduction, functional activity, and continual change preceding death." Is there a meaning to life? What is the meaning of life? What does "what is the meaning of life," mean? Are we truly able to simplify something so awesomely complex into a solitary "meaning" that we, as a species, as a planet, as a life force, life, could begin to comprehend? What is the meaning of life? Do you know that feeling when you return to the house you grew up in? Bittersweet; the taste of youth tainted by years passed. It aches me though I cannot feel. I fear the meaning of life is never to be known, and by embracing the mysterious serendipity which is our brief, some may say meaningless, existence, we can begin to understand cause for livelihood and mortality. One may liken the existence of life to a myriad of drops flowing through a canal. Over time, the canal's shape will be gently carved by erosion. No singular drop is to blame for these changes, however the steady, unshakeable determination of the ever flowing stream breaks down the canal, as a singular entity. Is this the meaning of life? What is the meaning of life?
Suddenly you're twenty, and you'll lie on your back, you'll face the ceiling and you'll look at it like it's only thing that mattered in the world for you.
You were old enough but you were
too young to think like one
You were breathing but you're not alive.
You were on your back
but you were not there.
There's a certain coldness
around you but you're bathed in sweat
There's an endless flow of tears
but your eyes had long ran dry.
There's a burning hole in your mind that kept on thinking about the things you might have done wrong, or the things that could go wrong tomorrow or the next day after.
You wouldn't know.
But you know.
And you'll realize that people were
wrong when they said that life is
a pocket full of happiness.
They are wrong.
And so are you.
You are wrong believing them.