Finding the meaning of life,
Or trying to find and
Understand what life means is something that
Readers, writers, scientists and philosophers have
Tried to do for but failed because Life’s meaning is something only the
You and I’s can truly decide on.
The meaning of life is to do:
Whatever you want, whenever you want, with whoever you want.
Otherwise, life has no meaning.
Question from Gabriel McC from Facebook
Hiding eyes,
Always open,
Never sleeping,
Eyes wide open,
Behind open hands,
They are always open,
Their eyes, their jaws, their minds,
Always thinking, plotting, manipulating,
Waiting for you to fail and your eyes to fall,
Waiting across the oceans of time, forever.
Always hungry,
Always thirsting,
Always waiting to
Kill you with kindness.
Or the closest thing to it.
There are worse ways to die
Than to live your life out of sync.
Live your life out of time until your time runs dry
No guns, no blood, no heartbreak.
Just blink.
They don’t sleep,
They don’t need to,
They’ve been resting
Since the dawn of their time.
Going from being quantum locked
In one place until you break your gaze,
Then they become stepping stones in a dark room,
The threat in the night, in the darkness, following and stalking,
Treading the shadows of your life for all of your time so, if anything,
They were just tired of waiting.
Question from Megan C. from Facebook
A gnarly gnat
Gnashed and gnawed at a gnostic
While a wildebeest listened to gnu-metal.
Was there a gnome?
Gno.
Question from Megan C. from Facebook
They’re trying to hide in the weather,
Behind warm mists and bitter frosts
And rain on the lens of my glasses.
They’re trying to hide under my fingernails,
And walls of stressed, red brick
Decorated with black and blue shadows.
They’re trying to hide behind my eyelids,
Locked and sealed up tight,
Doors to a world I’m too afraid to open.
Question from Michael Clark from Facebook
Clouds taste like journeys,
Travels and memories of
Places they’ve been before.
Evaporation,
Water dying from the heat,
Heading heavenward.
Condensation, the
Droplets come together like,
Soft, cold, sad choirs.
Precipitation,
The weight of emotion makes
Them want to fall back.
Fall back to the earth,
Recycled as rivers, seas
And oceans from raindrops.
But sometimes, they’re lost,
Dripping onto your tongue to
Hydrate and help you.
Then lost forever,
Lost in a thoughtless moment,
Tasting like sadness.
Question from my best friend and favourite kitten, Courtney G
Ignorance is bliss and
They are blissful and blissfully aware
That their happiness is contingent
On being ignorant.
Because, that way,
They don’t have to support the good fight
Because, to them,
Racism, sexism and oppression is right
Because, doing so,
Does not upset their status quo.
They’d rather believe that
Poverty is an African state
And it’s a choice to live there, and
Skin colour and sexuality
Is a matter of purity
And it’s a choice and they deserve discrimination.
Because choice is evil,
Because choice is binary,
Because you’re either
Right and Right or Left and Wrong.
They’d rather believe that
Oppressing minorities while having a minority belief
Is absolutely justified and O.KKK.
Because ‘white is right’ even though
The country isn’t even rightfully theirs
But the urge to control and dominhate
And trounce and trump
Anything that isn’t in their image
because
Change is good when is good for them.
Because they think they’re god and
They think It’s their God-given right.
Because it’s less about injustice
And more about “it just is”.
Living a shallow live with
Dissociative Moral Crisis Disorder,
Not feeling guilt or shame,
Desperately finding someone else to blame
All while playing pick and choose
(Because pick and mix sounds
Like it will weaken the gene pool)
Feeding the homeless but white
So as to help build a
New World Order
And hold ticker-tape parades of
Red, White and Black,
Flagging themselves and raising awareness that
There are problems in the world
While being blissfully ignorant that
The problem is them.
Question from Veronica D. from Facebook
I can’t believe,
I won’t believe,
That it was actually intentional.
They’re my best friend so
It cant be malice but
With each passing day, I feel more like
Alice in the rabbit hole.
Falling further away,
The distance stretching like
Shadows in the setting sun.
Even though I’m reaching out,
My calls and messages disappear
Like carrier pigeons shot out of the air
But I don’t know if I’d rather it was
Enemy or friendly fire.
This friendship now feels like
It’s paved with good intentions
And sudden turns for the worst,
And roundabout excuses.
And even though I know the way,
The signposts are vandalised with
New tags with your initials and
A name that I don’t know.
I didn’t realise that, apparently,
You were waiting for the right time to quit.
I hope someday you realise that
Your new nicotine patch or meat substitute
Won’t feel the same.
And eventually,
You’ll come to miss me as much as I miss you.
Because I didn’t mean to hurt you.
And although you feel that
I stabbed you in the back,
Please know that the blade was too long
And I stabbed myself in the heart.
And now there’s an aching in my chest,
Now there’s a hole in my heart,
But you don’t care.
Because I moved away .
Then you put the distance between us.
Question from Lexi H. from Facebook
Thank you for calling,
How can I help?
I’m sorry, I don’t have that information,
Can I take some of your information?
I can try to make an informed decision
I can try to draw a logical conclusion
I can try to-
I’m sorry?
Well no I don’t know,
I need to know more
Before I can find out who knows
What you’re supposed to know,
So if you could let me know
A little more about-
I’m just the receptionist,
I’m just the front desk,
I’m trying to do my best
But I need to know the rest
Of your information, I can’t guess
Or things could become a mess
So if I could just-
If you-
Could you-
Can I-
Would you-
Ma’am if-
I need-
SHUT UP AND LET ME HELP YOU.
I need your name,
Your address,
Your contact telephone number,
Your email address,
Blood type,
Mother’s maiden name,
The fourth and seventh number of your bank card.
Thank you,
Was that so hard?
You want help?
I need help,
Professional help,
Psychiatric help
Because of customers like you.
It’s people like you
That make me want to
Change the ‘S’ to an ‘N’ in customer.
It’s people like you
That make me want to
Put a motor on my stapler and go on a rampage.
It’s people like you-
I’m sorry,
Did you just say ‘sorry’?
You’re the first person to ever say sorry.
I’m not saying sorry.
I’m sorry you feel that way.
I’m sorry but-
Sorry?
I’m sorry,
You have the wrong number.
Question from Felicia W. from Facebook
Over two-hundred
From the world and internet,
And friends and strangers.
I have enough for
Two and a half challenges
But it’s not enough.
I don’t plan to stop
So when it comes to questions,
Never stop asking.
Question from Peter G from Facebook
It could be all matter of obscenities
And extremities
Which could be the source
Of my stickiness.
It could be the beer,
Sweet and sticky
And definitely
The wrong choice for this party.
It could be their breath,
So close it leaves condensation on your eardrums
And so heavy it drowns out the techno.
It could be the sweat,
Dripping, glistening and refracting
Looking like a perverse fancy dress
Where everyone wears glass.
Realistically,
It’s all of the above but
It’s mostly semen.
Question from my favourite li’l pervert, Arzoo.
Mxcellany - Poetry, Music, Art 