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A Pathetic State of Apathetic Bliss
by John HarderAnything is better
than one's current state of being.
Nobody really knows what to do here.
Firmly fastened to this giant sphere
hurtling through oblivion
with delusions of grandeur.
Telling ourselves
there's a purpose for our being
but there is a madness to the method.
Aimlessly we wander
meeting friendly strangers
who become strange friends.
Each going our own way.
No time to stop.
No time to talk.
How is it possible
to feel isolation
on a crowded earth?
Perhaps more importantly
how is it possible
to crave isolation
the way I do? 11/13/2015 Author's Note: strangers->friends->lovers->strangers
Posted on 11/13/2015
Copyright © 2025 John Harder
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Jared Orlando on 11/13/15 at 05:16 PM An honest and sad study on life and living. Just some constructive criticism.. Why did you pick and choose when you would use punctuation? Was it a creative choice to guide the reader in the pace you wished it to be read? It seems like you could use an all or nothing approach. Just my two cents. Good piece. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 11/15/15 at 09:13 PM Much truth and wisdom here, John. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 11/16/15 at 04:51 AM "meeting friendly strangers
who become strange friends" - great lines. This presents a gloomy state of affairs very well. I don't know what to do with the word "bliss" in the title. Is there hope after all? :) |
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