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Neil Schaaf Poem
On an oddly warm night
I was strolling down locust street
on my way to buy a hoagie.
When turning a corner
I bumped into god.
I knew it was him
with absolute certainty.
Overjoyed I grabbed his hand
and shook it vigorously.
What an honor
what a treat!
to be with god himself,
I hoped he'd never leave.
And leave he did not
he stayed and stayed,
he treated me to his presence
and we walked on to the park.
Not even 5 minutes had passed,
since our meeting
when I spotted something shiny,
and I raced off to see
what I could possess,
or what names
could possess me.
God was left alone,
he chuckled and waved goodbye,
He continued walking
in the direction he always walks.
Neil Schaaf
Copyright © Neil Schaaf | Year Posted 2006
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Neil Schaaf Poem
Poem #10 (Heaven)
An expansive ceiling above,
Like white paint dripped excessively
On a black canvas.
My neck cranes backwards
Following the landscape of blackness,
And continues along with the on going blackness,
Until I almost fall into a back flip.
My conditioned senses realize their ridiculousness,
And my body attempts to adjust.
My muscles urge ever so slightly
to fill the expanse, to distribute itself
All about the blackness!!
If only it could disintegrate
And put a couple atoms
Onto every white dot I see.
Obscurely it senses other places
To join my body into,
And swirl around in all this glory.
I can’t wait to die,
So I can be the universe again.
Copyright © Neil Schaaf | Year Posted 2006
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Neil Schaaf Poem
Poem #7 (by neil)
I do not hold on
To the “I” you call neil.
My body will become another body,
Stronger with new cells,
new cells will come again,
bringing someone else’s week body.
A voice will have a nuance,
It will be alien to my voice.
I will never be gone,
Because the “I” that I hold on to,
is already dead,
has already been born,
is dieing,
is being born,
will die,
will be born,
again, and again, and again.
Again backwards,
As well as forwards.
The “I” I hold on to belongs to Earth,
belongs to mass.
neil Schaaf at age ten,
he is a tree, a dog, a river,
a car, a building, a vibration of noise,
coming out of my stereo.
How can I die
Anymore than I have already died?
Or anymore than I’m dieing now?
The writer of this story
sits next to you as you,
as you read it,
like a ghost with his arm around you.
Meanwhile someone is calling something neil.
Neil Schaaf
Copyright © Neil Schaaf | Year Posted 2006
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Neil Schaaf Poem
Philosophers speak mightily,
Assuming deeply
That there is some intricate meaning.
Psychologists insist its
Just survival of the fittest.
But for whom does nature insist
That humans go on anyway?
For the stars, for the blackness?
I propose that nature persists
In the same way
A shooting star does,
For no greater reason
Than to just to keep going,
We exist for the sake of inertia,
And motion ends.
Just as well,
That’s something too.
Copyright © Neil Schaaf | Year Posted 2006
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Neil Schaaf Poem
If life must have some illusive meaning
Then I gladly acknowledge this meaning,
And know it to be another object I perceive
Like any other,
Maybe like this rock,
I put the meaning in my pocket
Alongside the pretty rocks I collected.
If a rock exists then that is the meaning of life.
Copyright © Neil Schaaf | Year Posted 2006
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