Author: Pablo Saborio

black wine

Wine Poetry 2011

I have closed my eyes.

In a mouthful of wine
the afternoons like throngs of mice
running hungry and wild down the gullet of
my absent body.

I taste in a nook of wine
oblivion- as a room
where existence breeds
in orgies of secret (and sweet)
mechanisms and laws.

It is all there with bubbles and stain.

My eyes are shut.

The coasts of my routine
full of drunk mist…
the departure – a breath – as a gust
of feeble constellations.

The sip.
Abrasive but fleeting.
Like the burn of a glimpse of sun.

My eyes are melting in black wine
while I drag the contours
of the untouchable world
into the invisibility of my sleep.

 

 

Poetry 2011

Vida, Vino e Historia

La anticipación de la muerte
y la ficción del conocimiento
son los dos pilares que soportan
el cosmos de sueño que atraviesa la vida.
Todo es una memoria de lo que no va a pasar.
Ser pez en mar de negro secreto, divagando
en corrientes de inaccesible origen; bello experimento.
Queda el vino como verdad absoluta
y la obra arabesca de la noche sin esquema.
Leo con calma la historia del mundo.
Plasmo mi lenguaje de escéptico, como para ir
debilitando el hábito de hacer afirmaciones.
Imagino el día cuando nacer y morir sean sinónimos.
Y una pacífica nube eclipse la existencia y todo duerma
bajo la lluvia del olvido.

 

Poesía Nihilista

to do (today)

To do today

— Sell beer at Sacré Coeur
— Read Durant
— Visualize dramatic death
inside metro station
— Slander humanity (inside my head)
— R econcile myself with humanity on
the pretext that nothing really matters,
not even my disdain for
today’s banality.
— Buy “What’s on man’s mind-Sigmund Freud”
T-shirt
— Booze – some football
— write an avant-garde poem
— pack
— fuck
–theorize and wine
–juggle with the playthings
of soul, destiny and love
— sleep
—
Nihilistic Poetry

untouched


From the phantom tables
and vanished walls
a cloud of light
and thunder of shadow
the foundation is lost .
I still glimpse an inkling of
cold geometry and
wooden truth;
but the glue of substance
drips like echoes of brevity. . .
I witness
and no longer
participate.

 

 

Absurd Poetry

cruel

Cruel sky

The words smell each other
leaning against the tempest
an odor of absurdity
as the world mechanism
smashes your
head
against the window of
a satanic sky –
oh cause and effect
or the inevitable
question
of:
are we alone
in infinite shallowness
of thought?
the teeth of sky
grinding skulls
like mustard seeds
– a sigh –
the memory of light/anonymously.

Absurd Poetry

nooks within a routine

Mad poet

What collocation of beginnings
side by side in the sky
looking through window
at a fiery gas and ox flame
woven in lurid clouds,
the unit of beginning
3 seconds of origin
awoken in the mist –
then return to the tunnel
of thought, drug and routine
as a dark spiral without
exit.

 

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry Blog

discurso del método

Dudo todo.

Porque si el mundo cae sobre mis labios
como un trago de constelaciones amargas
debo preguntar,
¿ por qué en mi lengua de grávida somnolencia ?

Que todo debe colapsar en vientre húmedo de sensación,
lo entiendo. Pero,
¿ por qué no se concentra el mundo en la punta
ardiente de un fosforo sediento ?

Cae el mundo como gota de luz sobre las papilas
de mi ciego odio. Lo saboreo como un arcoíris de tiempo mudo.
¿ por qué se expande el mundo como pupila de asombro
en la prisma de mi silencio ?

Que el mundo es el velo en donde se nubla el significado de las cosas,
lo comprendo. Pero,
¿ por qué queda este resabio de verdad en mi memoria
como si hubiera atrapado un instante de conocimiento ?

Lo dudo todo.

 

 

 

Poesía Nihilista

an ode to whatever is represented

disparate_dimensions_21st_century_poem

I was divagating in a fluidity of language
collecting in the subjective aroma of an objective pinpoint
a star deriving its presence by its undulating waste of light.

I contained the arching earth and the moon
pretended to shift through the clouds of a mind
like an unconscious mirror spinning.

The arrow of the sensation was pointed
towards a nectarous instant of sound
a long necklace of harmonies.

My hour is traveling through imaginary pleasing effects
the seconds are my mistresses in red corduroy –
the age – a vague perfume of disparate dimensions.

 

 

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry Blog