WHY???

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WHY???

WITHOUT ANY FOREWARNING OR PRELUDE
LONELINESS CREEPS IN TO OVERTAKE ONE IN A MOMENT.
ONLY TO CONTINUE TO MOUNT.
HEAPED QUITE HIGH UPON ALL HOPES AND DREAMS.
LEAVNG ONLY AN EMPTY SHELL OF WHAT ONCE WAS ME.
IN BETTER TIMES MOST OBVIOUS; HOWEVER,
NOW, NOTHING BUT PAIN OF A DEFEAT.
THE LIES OF LOVE THAT NEVER WAS
THOUGH MUCH EMOTION AND PASSION WAS AWAKENED AND AROUSED.
FOR OH, SO LONG A TIME
YET LOST AND ABANDONED WITH NOT ANSWERS OR RESOLUTIONS.
WHY US?  YOU SAY.
WHY ME? I SAY.
AND FINALLY, WHY NOT!!!  THEY ANSWER WITH DISGUST.
SURVIVING MEANS ACCEPTING YET AT TIMES
STILL WANTING TO CLING TO WHAT SEEMED TO BE SO NATURAL.
IT FEELS SO RIGHT--------BUT YET SO EMPTY AND HOLLOW.
ONLY LEFT ARE ECHOS OF WHAT SEEMED TO BE TRUE.
EACH ONE FADING A BIT MORE THAN THE ONE BEFORE.
SEEING MORE MOMENTUM TURNS TOWARDS NOTHINGNESS!
THEN--------------------
WITHOUT WARNING:
"IT ENDS!"

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WordSlinger commented on WHY???

06-13-2010

I really like the beginning of this alot, thank you WS

Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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