An Existential Rap by CB

Introspective: An Existential Rap

Sitting in a little place known as Smoke Park,
Sucking on the blunt while I read Jean Paul Sartre.
Don’t know what he means by existence
Precedes essence.
It means I’m born without meaning,
So throughout life I be feening,
For what I be seeking,
Looking for the path,
I don’t know what I have.
It’s time to experience life,
Though suffering may be a strife.
It’s only through experience, I can tell
That you’ll be able to find your true Self. [Read more…]

The End of Joesph K. by AJ

The End of Joesph K.

The darkness shone the room of wood,
And in the spotlight, Joesph. K stood.
“Joesph K.” The Judge will say
“You are found guity of your crime.”
“But your honor” said K.
“It is not my door that you should knock.
“Take Leni, My Uncle, or even Block.” [Read more…]

Lo • li • ta by CR

Lo • li • ta

Standing next to you,
I feel like such a child.
Bambi without his mother I am
tripping over my own feet,
chasing fireflies in my backyard
and crying for attention. [Read more…]

All All Mine by EA

All All Mine

Beautiful picture:

The curve of your head

The flicker of your heart.

You’re mine, all mine

But only for now. [Read more…]

Untitled by ED

It’s like hearing the right words and wishing you had said them.
And it’s like wanting to be a writer because writing is beautiful, but I can see the divide now
Do you see friend that we’re matter, we’re just made of matter.
I’d always thought you needed both but it has to do with changing forms.
The matter we exist in is the only one worth trying to understand, and we are so much less transitive than we think we are.
And I have found that there is nostalgia in questions the way there is in winter and piano keys. And we only ask the same questions, from the point that we are old enough to be conflicted.
I have been old enough to be conflicted for far too long.
And the strangest part is that no part of me is definitive
If I knew how to collect my thoughts,
I would not write.

Poem by E.D.