All Work is copyright of The Unspoken Word and respected owners. No work shall be copied or reproduced without the consent of The Unspoken Word. ©

 

                                 

Life. Death.
An oxymoron.
A thousand variables.
If you know you’re going to die,
Then what’s the point of living?
I can tell you that point.
I can answer that question.
What’s the meaning of life?
I'll tell you later.
First I have a poem to read. 

She stumbled to me.
Beer in one hand.
Condom in the other.
I embraced her. 

Life will find a way. 

Unused condom on the floor.
Time to 'fess up to my crime.
Drunken women don’t stay drunk.
Lying men always lie. 

Life will find a way. 

Six months later.
I said it isn’t mine.
She’ll take a test.
No way left to lie. 

Life will find a way. 

Her legs spread open.
Light shining through.
Life found a way.
He smiled, 

And I did too. 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

Hope you enjoyed the poem.
So,
Still wondering about that question?
Still wondering about my answer?
What’s the meaning of life?
I'll tell you later.

cori graham

 




                                                                                                                

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

POETRY          MISC          ABOUT ME          LINKS          CONTACT ME