On Poetry: Digging in the wrong direction, by Joseph Emerson,

This dark and deep poem from Joseph Emerson comes from the soul and brings to the surface the fears we all have about living life to the fullest without wasting a moment.

I scratched and I clawed my way, several feet up

intuitive, survival instincts had quickly kicked in,

I punched my way through the tamped surface

a ghost of a chance, that I’d let the Devil win.

As I rose up to the surface en route towards the stars

I could feel the chill wind blow against my face,

I looked beside me as I detected a slim glimmer

a headstone reflecting the moonlight in my space.

My name delicately written in a standard Celtic font

my birthdate and yesterdays are joined by a dash,

every sense leaves me in the pulse of my heartbeat

as it feels that my presence turned to dust in a flash.

Too late for regrets, and denial is too long overdue

to die with great dignity and respect I cannot save,

I just have to lie with the realization that I,

have wasted my entire existence digging my grave.

Reblogged from Digging in the wrong direction — What’s Inside a Madman’s Hat?

6 thoughts on “On Poetry: Digging in the wrong direction, by Joseph Emerson,

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