Justin Tallman

Rookie (September 4th,1989 / Milwaukee, WI)

Fin - Poem by Justin Tallman

No words in mind
just thoughts of a circle
how it goes on
and on
never ends

Should there be an end?
considering the concept
of death
and the romance of
the end of the world
There has got to be one
right?

But the clocks a circle
hands spiral
with each second
to pass
and never dies

And what of the human body?
What sense of circulation is there
in that?

Maybe
the concept of procreation
falls in line
with the theory defined
in a circular shape

We fall in love
make love
plant our seed
grow flowers
and die

Those flowers
blossom
pollinating the memory
of our existence
and through this memory
we become
apart of this
circular eternity
beyond our perception
of our end

But disregard
our cock and balls
the insemination
was never an event
no fertile soil
moist and warm enough
for our eternal seed

We just
make love
in our caskets
buried six feet deep
pleasuring
our corpse
then what?

At best
we'll be nutrition
for the worms
and soil
living on
in a more simplified
means

I guess
there is no escaping
our significance
and there actually
is no end

The End?


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Poem Edited: Tuesday, September 24, 2013


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