Live

This is a free-verse poem that I wrote based on an idea. What is the point of doing something like...writing, for example? If we had no paper or pencils (or computers), do you think we would actually pick up a rock and write on a wall. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't. I guess you could tell the stories to your kids, but that would be a substitute for me. You don't always have an opportunity to give a speech in front of a crowd. If I write something, I want it to be seen! I don't want to feel important, I just believe I have a very large source of knowledge in my brain that some might care to hear. If I could just change one persons view on the world, (considering the view is a brighter view than the current one) I would be pretty satisfied, but the more people reading my stuff, the more people I might change. So anyway, why do we work so hard to create, live, laugh, love, or learn? We all die anyway, so what's the point? This poem (hopefully) answers that. We need it for the greater good of all humanity. And even when we die, IT AIN'T OVER! Death is just a way of passage from one location to the next. It is true that the 'way of passage' can be quite painful or sudden, but it's not over. ALL THE THINGS WE LEARN HERE PREPARE US FOR OUR WORK IN HEAVEN. That is why things like loving and even the things like singing or dance are important. So whatever dream you may have, CHASE IT DOWN! It will do good someday. (Unless of course your dream is to be a mass murderer. If that is the case, get professional help.)

Oh, and as an additional note, I wrote this based on the idea that playing with words might give me some poetic edge in my writing. So drawing on examples such as Nirvana, Shakespeare, Owl City, and other things I can't think of now, I'm starting to go a little more poetic. (which, judging from this poem, will take a little more work.) So anyway, I should probably stop typing and let you write the poem I wrote beforehand.

Below is the begging.

What's the point of writing?
Our words can not conquer death.
What's the point of dancing?
For our last dance is named melancholy.
What's the point of singing?
We lose them in the wind soon enough.
What's the point of art?
All colors soon dull to grey.
What's the point of laughing?
Death ain't that funny.
What's the point in love?
The lover soon becomes blind to all.

Hush. Don't say another word.

We may not conquer death,
but our stories resonate through the rest of history.
We may dance to melancholy,
but it isn't the final dance.
And if our voices be lost in the wind,
let it travel to every ear.
And although colors may fade,
we paint a picture of life with every day.
So what if I laugh at death?
He can get over it!
And although a corpse may go blind,
the spirit is forever free,
and love conquers all,
even death itself.
So don't worry of death,
keep living life,
both for the Earth and Heaven.

What we learn here is for the greater good of all living souls.
So keep living, both for you, me, and others.

And that was the end


So far, this is all I got, but soon, I'll be making a song with the same meaning. Oh, just as a final note, what do you think a "Painted Sleeve" is? All my search results came with were ads, so it has probably not been used.