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Life Bores Us All To Death

We all move

with such purpose

 

We stretch out

in all directions

onwards

 

Shit, we’ve got

such important

things

to get done

 

But all the way there’s

a little bit of

death

in our skulls or

pressing down on our

backs

 

The sun will shine

or it will not

There will be light

or there will not

We get tangled up

we do not get free

and death grins on

 

It’s easier

than life and

it knows it too

 

Life and death

the same coin

the only 2 odds

going

 

2 outcomes

2 products sold

in the

same shop

 

You can

choose this

or you can

choose that

There is nothing else

no other choice

for sale

 

So draw the curtains

and growl

in the shade

 

You don’t have to

choose

right now

 

or perhaps

you do

◄ Apathetic Son of a Bitch

Someone’s always trying to take over the world ►

Comments

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melanie coady

Sun 13th Mar 2011 10:48

wow absolutly loved this one darlin xx

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Elaine Booth

Sun 6th Mar 2011 19:00

There is a change in tone in the poem but basically what you are saying is quite clear-cut I found: between birth and death we fill up life with the clutter of living, all the while, somewhere in the background, we know it is keeping the boredom of life at bay - what else would we be doing other than the busy, busy, busy of actually doing nothing at all. David, I hope you chose to keep writing - it can keep you the right side of it all and perhaps communication is the best of all we can do. BTW I very much agree with Steve's comment on those lines - excellent.

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David Mac

Wed 2nd Mar 2011 15:12

all i was trying to say was there is only life or death, and you can choose to keep living or to die at any point, to commit suicide or not, to keep on living a little bit longer.
this is what my days are like lately: heads or tails...

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Wed 2nd Mar 2011 14:41

This is interesting. In stanza 4, the theme seems to be inevitability. Even if 'death' is 'Boredom', then I think the idea still gets a bit 'iffy' putting 'death/life' into the simplistic, unarguable category such as the odds of heads/tails. Assuming the work pokes hard at choosing not to live Life at its fullest, to deliberately curry pessimism and personal put-downs, I feel the two ideas of mathematical certainty and choice do not join well in one poem.

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