My own meaning of life:
I promised to try and never do harm,
occasionally unsuccessful, botched even
or even been the disaster, the black sheep
I was always told I would be…
but as a whole
I have to believe I have been more respectable
than wicked and yes like anybody else
I regret bitterly the times when failure has been
the only option, for even in deep sad failure
must come hopeful good.
My own meaning of life:
To try and never be swayed by popular opinion,
the agony of going against the grain, unlike the day
my father showed me how to shave properly
and urged me to always go with the flow,
the unpopular concusses must be taken
when wrong should not prevail
even if it means a trip to a
broken down bleak ridden Midland’s town
is the only route out of the beating to come,
never be converted from a distant truth.
My own meaning of life:
To understand that everybody deserves a voice,
perhaps even when it contradicts point two,
for in their own voice at least
they might hear the words they utter
and perhaps with judgement
they might change their mind, as I
have changed mine when I have listened properly,
to the wind raging across the flat desert sand
and the roar of the ocean, individual droplets
of water seeking solace in their own belief.
My own meaning of life:
To fit in as much as possible every day,
which could damage point one,
especially when you are a single minded
obstinate, sometimes unmovable, stubborn
and inflexible persistent son of a gun,
or if it doesn’t hurt someone else,
then it should hurt me,
it should take me to the brink
of the heart stopping and just pull back enough to make me cry.
My own meaning of life:
Live life your way, for I either know you
are also too stubborn, too wonderful,
too brilliant or too damaged to care
what I think anyway
and in the end what is life but to have
peeled back your own emotions,
too let your breathe wallow in the deep end
and to avoid the paddling pool
of despairing beige survival,
for who in the end cares…
…I hope I will.
Ian D. Hall 2015