Poemetry by T.A. Barnhart


the whole idea of “life”
is pretty irritating to me
these days.
what’s the point
of years of struggle
and lost pleasures
only to die,
my consciousness
switched off forever?
why am i put
through all this?
just to implant
a couple of my sperm?
how is this a good idea?
life is precious;
how many fools
repeat those words
without the slightest
of either
how plentiful life is
or how expendable?
life feeds life.
we have built
modern civilization
on the thick, black remains
of tens of millions of years
of too-abundant life.
this pen is made
from the remains
of ancient life.
what a waste.
what a stupid idea.
i will cling to it
wishing only
there was someone
i could tell,
fuck you!

©TA Barnhart April 29, 2020