So I'm sitting in my English 2 class, not listening to my Bulgarian teacher speaking in her accent. Nothing against Bulgaria/ns but I'm not sure she should be teaching an English class. Since none of you have really looked at my post about being robbed I guess I must have bored you and will now add a few poems.
Who Knows Where It Is We Go
It's an impossibility to know
when, where, or why we go
After death, that is.
I wonder how religious zealots
came to their conclusions?
Maybe too many drugs.
The only thing that is absolute
Is that some time we will go
Though the mystery of such a thing...
It's what drives us to be the best
the top-tier humans of our time
The unique thirst of recognition.
Hopefully one day we'll have an idea.
6 comments:
Chris--
Don't discount Rossitza, she knows what she's doing...
Glad you're still writing, but careful calling down the wrath of other poets. I think Mariyln's poem was tip-top. Taste & luck, success in writing isn't about much more than that...
I enjoyed the synical edge of this one.
its a cafeteria of the dead after death, eternal coffee and unlimited wifi connectivity...and laptops for everyone :D
thanks for linking man! please do subscribe to the feed. i have linked to you and will keep reading ;)
Cheers!
N
I've missed your poems...
Its quite a scary thought that one day we are all going to die. I like believing that we go somewhere and that we don't just disappear xx
Ahaha, Bulgarian teaching English.
It never works...
Plz check out my blog too, http://zexk.blogspot.com/
i liked that poem a lot.
and i always thought it was
funny when someone who didn't
speak english as his/her first
language teaching english.
always has cracked me up.
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