The Beautiful and The Unbeautiful - a collection of poems and texts

Post-Notebook

What is life if you don't know it by name, by feeling or by thought

Would you ever truly feel an oncoming barbaric YAWP?

Or would you sit in yr. days unending

Drinking coffee, black and long

Feeling nothing, seeing less

And dotting down unending songs

Feeding

Writhing

Drinking

Slouching

Fading

Memo-

Ries

Arousing

Living

Breathing

Dead

Inside

Hope

Is fading

It's out

Of sight

Carpe Diem sed memento mori

Life's unending melodramatic story

And Nihilism springs eternal

Danish blues, English kernel

What is life if you don't know its humour, beauty or mockery?

And are we but bound to capture it in unfocused, bombastic poetry?