Life and Whatever by Gregory Harvey


(5 ratings)
Rate this Poem (5 best)

 

1 comments /

Governed by the concentric circles of pain and hope,
Ruled by the never ending and approaching eclipse of death,
Led by nothing but my own fleeting sense of purpose,
I sit on a park bench, somewhere between life and whatever.
I pass bread crumbs to ducks, trying to cheer myself up.
But ducks canít remember my name.
Nor will anyone.

Confused by the very fact of my existence,
Tired of people but canít bear to part with the lies,
Asking questions that cannot and will never be answered,
I sit with earphones jammed into my skull, on the park bench,
Listening to rock music trying to cheer myself up.
But, inevitably, it fails.
Always does.

I want to be remembered for being forgotten.
I want to be destroyed for being created.
I want to be let in for being cast out.
I want to be loved for being hated.

Angry over everything, anything and anyone,
Trapped in by otherís and my own expectations,
Attempting to explain what others refuse to understand,
I sit on the park bench between life and whatever,
With a pen and a notepad trying to cheer myself up.
But the wind blows the pad shut.
And my mind is frozen.

Even recent memories have blurred together,
The good times and the bad are both missed,
My friends long since distant, likely never to be again,
I occupy the park bench alone, only my self as company,
Struggling to recall my dreams; cheer myself up.
But they are gone now.
Crushed by reality.

I want to be remembered for being forgotten.
I want to be destroyed for being created.
I want to be let in for being cast out.
I want to be loved for being hated.

Struggling through life without a mentor,
But only because no one will tell me what I want to hear,
Left to my own, terrible, insatiable devices,
On a park bench somewhere between life and whatever,
I sit as everything else around me moves,
I point out their absurdity only to cheer myself up.
Theyíre always angry with me.
But thatís how I like it.

Thinking about the injustice of my life,
Wondering about the injustices my life has caused,
Searching desperately, yet hopelessly, for happiness,
The park bench seems my only actual home, a refuge
Where I look at the happy families and try to cheer myself up.
But even they are bound only
By socio-economics.

I want to be remembered for being forgotten.
I want to be destroyed for being created.
I want to be let in for being cast out.
I want to be loved for being hated.

To hell with the world.
To hell with its people.
To hell with heaven.
To hell with life.
To hell with hell.