Tag Archives: Meaning of life

cripple at beautiful gate

well, i went & trod the great south road
when you told me not to go
i meandered in the crayon fields
but that child died long ago
the colours weren’t anywhere to look
yeah, far as flies the crow
except the black that bled from these stumps
that carried me to & fro

well, life is such a disappointment
where did the years all go
i gambolled in the hambone hills
but lust is death don’t you know
fantasy splayed by heat & look
yeah, pecked on by the crow
i eat the sickly gangrene stumps
that carried me to & fro

well, no matter where i lay my head
i’m always fear on the go
i’ll never be too innocent, yeah
gehenna’s bloody flow
she’s so damn hot, she makes me look
yeah, spit on by the crow
burn bright you cursed charcoal stumps
that carried me to & fro

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2008

plesh

last to wake, last to sleep
each day, unalived a little more
by longliners, systems & regimes
with too many nets, hooks & means
cozened in the sunken sands
of befuddlement & dreams

braced for the descaling
gaping at the moon’s reflection
why is the only way up
ever found on another shore
have i not already unalived
a thousand wretched times before

alive’s become harder to eddy into
where have all the minnow gone
when algae tastes like rotting meat
dare one muster to tell the deep
from whence one’s shadow sprang & ends
of expectations unalived midstream

braced for the descaling
gaping at the moon’s reflection
nothing known could anchor me here
but one oneself, so what can i do
but alive somehow through another night
in hopes dawn bedews e’er full sweet

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2026

ask nothing

infinity
a crumb, our collective mind
from the day we are born
we’re enmired in longing
& we reach all our lives as if
our slow death has barely begun

infinity
we’re avoiding in the rain again
as it washes away the tears
past stars inert down the lane
dare we to wear our insides out
like we were ever here

who are we to hope for love
as we lift our heads above
the skies could fall any moment
how on earth are we alive

infinity
too many arks on mountains
for any of them to be the one
our jesus is nothing
our buddhas are nothing
so too our drowned expectations

infinity
it’s another god for the blind
yet we feel that white room calling
boundless, all walls fallen away
we’re dispossessed in night’s array
how heavenly the stars

who are we to hope for love
as we lift our heads above
each moment an accusation
how are we still alive

what if infinity left us blind
to vanish beneath the sands of time
& yet we hope
yet we love
we live

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

the fall

a lustrous apple falls off the market stall
tumbles and rolls down the messy road
the ground is all bespattered and footworn
a tired stallkeeper takes the apple, puts it back

unsold produce is covered with a grey tarp at night
gets ripe then rots according to nature’s plan
a dirty apple with a battered side cannot sleep
nor stop thinking of that road and the meaning of life

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2022

GUEST POST // I Am Not… But I Wonder by Jonathan Noble

I’m not a shopper, hopper, nor a pill-popper;
I’m not a preacher, teacher, not a people-leecher;
I’m not a vendor, lender, nor a mind-bender;
I’m not a thug, slug, not an assassin-bug;
But I wonder who I am, and how many are,
∼∼∼∼∼∼∼ as I reach for my own bright star.

I’m not a socialist, idealist, no party fist;
I’m not a protestor, warmonger, not a go-getter;
I’m not a street bum, bibber of rum, lord of a slum;
I’m not a hater, traitor, nor a game-baiter;
But I wonder who I am, and how many are,
∼∼∼∼∼∼∼ as I reach for my own bright star.

I’m not a suit, brute, nor a corporate boot;
I’m not a romantic, pedantic, not a life-mantic;
I’m not a heller, speller, nor a fortune-teller;
I’m not a doubter, shouter, not a doctrine-flouter;
But I wonder who I am, and how many are,
∼∼∼∼∼∼∼ as I reach for my own bright star.

I’m not a scholar, trawler, not a doctrine hauler;
I’m not a specialist, analyst, nor a game panelist;
I’m not a lazy man, crazy man, nor member of a klan;
I’m not a doubter, shouter, nor a free-flouter;
But I wonder who I am, and how many are,
∼∼∼∼∼∼∼ as I reach for my own bright star.

Where am I? Where are you? As our world turns and burns,
Waiting for love from above, and release to real peace?
What are you, and what are you not? Who is and who is not?
∼∼∼∼∼∼∼ as you reach for your own bright star…

by JONATHAN NOBLE
© All rights reserved 2015