Life is

Life is 

fake,

life is 

real,

life: 

a concept, 

thoughtless spiel.

Flesh bag, flesh sag,

stitched to fragile bone,

jelly eyes 

suck the light,

as brain

devours the whole.

Gibbered lips,

cast to the air

the only tale they're told,

a truth, a truth,

that casts no light

beyond it's owners trail.

as curtain falls,

night takes its bow,

and words, they fade away.

a history, cast out of sight,

henceforth to be unknown.

Reviews

[Emma-Jane]

I really like the structure of this poem.

The short, snappy lines create an urgency that gives the poem a great rhythm :)

[B.J]

I like it and it is so good, written with true feeling.

[Christopher Withers]

Thanks Barb, your comments are truly appreciated :).

A lot of my poems deal with my desire to see past the mundane, the societal preconditioning, and if possible, past the brains hard-wired pathways which drink evolved meaning from the chaos that surrounds us. I guess, in some ways, it's about trying to understand death too.

I think what I write is perhaps for acquired tastes :)

[B.J]

Yes! chaos in life, I can associate with that. Your words certainly have a message

[B.J]

Oh! I really like it, true feelings about life. Great work