existence, being itself,
is absurd.

think of the primordial silence,
the nothingness
that looks back at being
blindly. realize
in the plexus of your ballooning brain
that nothingness
is a comparative construction
of being.

then think of life
and how ridiculous it seems
in itself,
not to mention the cars and cannons
and crimes and careful gambles
we clutter it up with.

existence is absurd.
the children are saints.
laughing fools are actually wise men.

so put on a colorful stocking cap,
paint your face bright purple
and jump rope in your driveway
with just your underwear on
whistling the theme song from Monty Python's
Flying Circus.

hopefully
you will learn to laugh at yourself,
and when some stranger
grows aghast
gaping at your trivial and stupid antics
and asks with a stern voice,
"What the hell are you doing?"
you can grin back
like an idiot with a brilliant secret
and respond calmly,
"I'm living."

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...