Author: Pablo Saborio

sui generis

A portrait of nothingness –

the tininess in between the worlds

the invisible underlying cup

a blank canvas for the painted universe

absent undisturbed gulf

the sleep that dreams me

                  while I play hardball

                        with the junkies of pursuits.

 

Nihilistic Poetry

once existed

To once exist

The day begins
has it?
already night
the stars squash me
with their colossal laughter
is it funny or cruel?
hopelessness is my cue
I’m a colonial boy
with imperial regrets
I have stepped onto cities
that once existed, oh history
I – is a word
the most engrossing word
for the conscious beast
I am impossible
and all the rest
I step onto a stone or an abyss
which?
is still undecided

 

Nihilistic Poetry

she is my pond

Entropy of Love
She is my pond
I drown
her innocuous waters
I drown
leagues infinite bottom
I drown
and never die
her waters are hands of mothers
her currents womblike sighs
I drown
songs that swim like free fish
my pond
the place where I dissolve
like a borderless ripple
she is my pond
where I drown
ineffably
in an entropy of love.

 

Modern Poetry

curved space

The black answer

The wind

brush

over my internal vacuity

my eyes

two stellar regions

by the naked dark

the atom in relation to all

my heart in proportion to nothing

the wind

many times

a close brush

with

          the imperishable

the blacker self

convoluting

within the wandering

poet.

 

Modern Poetry

otherness

Otherness Modern Acrylic Art
I am drenched in words
like skin that covers my intellect
while sitting here
I do not feel like any word
neither floating nor sinking
in between two nondescript states
perhaps more
plucking my names
           human, animal, person, soul, pablo
petals – I exist or I exist not
an empty receptacle
in my hand
or a savory thought
or gone with the wind.

Nihilistic poetry

segunda oportunidad

espejos ebrios
Tres días después
de la noche
cuando dormí en mi vómito

Tres días después
de la noche
cuando casi borro
mi sonrisa por una mueca
cadavérica

Tres días después
de haber pisado el purgatorio
lleno de mis espejos ebrios

Tres días después
en cuenta regresiva
al día que todo esto
se vuelva a repetir

Tres días después
un hereje
sollozando en brazos
de segunda luz.

 

Poesía Moderna

incognito

my world eye

The world is my excuse
for existing
things, events, voices, phenomena
expand before me
like leaves from a budding green
new and virgin patterns
buried in the dot
under the nose of my own consumption
untouchable heavens as the purity of my soul
the small lesser ground
that I call:
myself
and my world.

 

Nihilistic Poetry