Lives of This

Roaring and crashing

Tossing and thrashing

flipping tables

breaking windows

frustration of the mind.

Literal is not collateral

peace is not illiterate

fancy but empty

words of a source.

sense,   

what is sense.

the world is a mass

of confusion

frustration

bitterness

hate.

What really matters

no one really knows.

Justifications

right's road's evasions

irratical persuasions,

greed

sacrifice.

mistaken mistakes,

revenge,

vice.

What is a word,

what is a meaning,

understanding

information gleaning.

What is time,

it is but a figment of our meanings,

a partial to our beings,

imagination.

There

but not really

something we've created.

a sense,

something true,

and yet

not being.

Reasons

and doubts

whispers

and shouts

is life a meaning

or a mere coincidence?

Tis so,

and so is,

the floatation of your devices,           

our own lives

our conscience

the meaning

is our demises.

wandering

lost

lonely

afraid,

searching

for meaning,

coming up frayed.

Perhaps we most fear

what we all seek for,

meaning

but without,

our lives of this.          

~K.k.P~

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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