The Knowing

Scream screens poem by Judas1

Long before me the world was, and long after me the world will still be. But then again... the world is until that day I die it isn't. And then perhaps it never, and was it really ever?

On screens, magazines and all staged scenes, shrill shrieking all attention seeking, the world keeps turning and talking until the end of my discourse. And then the world turns tricks no more, for I'm no longer witness.

The suns glow, the winds blow, the rivers flow and the trees grow: in the immensity of time and space, the world we know will come and go, leaving little trace of our place. But within one year or one hundred, it won't matter for I'll be gone.


The knowing poem



Once you're dead, the world no longer exists for you. The world no longer matters to the dead and it might as well not exist. In mind of this, does it matter while we are alive?

Fuck it all, for it does not matter. It has never mattered, but it is a laugh, it is a lark, and the food ain't bad, indeed it's good.



Hindsight, Planet, City, Perplexed, Worlds



If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, did it make a sound?



We didn't start the fire, Billy Joel 1989



M. C. Esher, 1898–1972