Life skipped vinyl
A metal monologue of pain
A chorus played in reverse
A spiked needle of regret
what we were
what we lost
My sky bled black label
as the needle tore a hole
ripping the melody in half
of our song
blood filled my eyes
but you were gone
life is regret played backwards
at least life for now
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Shooting Stars of Life
Bedrock imbibes life in unsettled eve,
tides of hand shadows mark my journey,
essence of tulips broken and scattered.
I have traipsed these cloudy skies before
tasting broken legends of my reality,
clinging with moist hands to waning light.
One last stab waiting for daybreak,
sky trembles in blue tinged passion,
fragile but infinitely connected.
Silk strands flying with slivered breezes
imploring in frozen supplication,
impulsive life pounds on barred windows,
begging entrance for sun dappled rays.
Seeping into vestiges of bitter soul
sparkle of vitality reawakens,
shooting stars streaking for humanity.
I savor the scars and wrinkles as
pink tinged clouds reflect in my eyes,
cerulean sky composes rhapsodies,
an ode to my life lived to the hilt.
Life is not
it’s all about
When the race
the start light
that was seen.
The next bit
Three point five
billion years ago
start to grow.
So life came
from no life,
there’d be no
heaven or hell.
the acid test.
run by chance?
On a pin
the ultimate line
in the sand,
and ask if
taken a hand.
A single breath
One lone note
From the voice
Some notes float
A dissonant gong
Some find a place in
One lone note
But joined with another
Life is a song
If we find a place
is our identity
for a time
which we are given
by our creator
a unique purpose
unique to that moment in time
unique to our place, purpose and people
placed for our actions to touch
unique to ourselves
in this incarnation.
Happiness is equal to our successful completion
of unique purpose
in the time given.
Win or lose
in another time
The best ever. Nothing can compare to it.
To some, it is just so simple.
But to me, it is my one love.
The one thing that truly makes me happy.
It is the air I breathe in.
What I focus on the most out of everything.
Lemon-Head Time Bomb
I have a brain tumor.
A wad of cells the size of a lemon
that I never noticed
until I realized that other people
don't get severe migraines once a month.
I remember the shock,
my wife's hand on top of mine.
My denial, then anger.
After 3 months of the 9 that I had left,
the doctors said there is a procedure
where they could cut the lemon out of my head
with a minimal risk of death being 40 percent.
It was only when I was faced with the prospect of the end
that I stopped to ask what my life meant.
The procedure will me done on my prefrontal cortex,
the area of the brain that houses creativity, ambition,
everything that makes you- you.
See, more than the fear of death,
I fear something going wrong in my head.
I fear the thought of losing my personality
to the lemon.
More than death,
I resent the thought of living the rest of my life
as someone I'm not.
I've grown to accept that truth as life.
Waking up every morning
and experiencing the world a different time
isn't what gives life its meaning,
rather life is what you see the world as
when you wake.
Who you are manifests into something that gives life purpose.
I'd rather die in 6 months
being the same man I was this morning,
than living one day as somebody else.
Recipe for life
1. Insert intellect, a will, desires, temperament, dreams, illusions, aspirations, feelings, instinct, genes, soul – in random order and proportions;
2. Mix them up till you get a unique combination and name the specimen “human being”;
3. Have the human beings meet, interact in different circumstances and procreate;
4. Congratulations – you’ve got “life”.
To the end.
To the start.
To the new.
To the old.
To the real.
To the fake.
To our accomplishments.
To our mistakes.