Here's my crack at existential poetry: A Letter from the Bones of a Broken Pirate:

A Letter from My Bones:


We are here to remind you of who you are.

You are temporary.

You are broken.

You are pieces and parts that fit together less and less comfortably.

You are a sputtering and coughing stream of semi-consciousness.

See how easily the veneer peels away and exposes your frailty?

See how your posture mimics a sail on a still afternoon?

You are the scent of stale, empty space.

Hear the voice deepen and crack like old hardwood?

There is no place to hide, but you keep trying.

Who are you hiding from anyway?

What would happen if you were honest?

What would happen if you forced your crooked frame out into the light of day?

What would happen if you even took a peek through the curtain of what is real?

 Would you die of shame?

How will you neutralize the mechanisms of control?

How strong are the locks that imprison you?

 And why, why do you love them so!?



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I must say I liked it. Kudos. Thumbs up, and all such.


What have we to be so proud of anyway? But the corollary is, what reason have we to be ashamed of who we are? If we are so weak and transparent and deserving of so little praise, at least we are capable of being vaguely aware of our existential situation. We may be like those first lungfish that began finally to walk on dry land. Our eyes may only just be getting used to seeing ourselves clearly for the first time, but as we lie helpless on the beach, gasping for each breath, we may be, like newborn babies, full of potential.

Beautiful Jedi! Many thanks

:-D And to you!


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