contemporary poetry

The fallacy of existing

Existence Poetry

something set me         loose

abrupt and cryptic

sailing in a       medium

that infuriates me

                   headway headway

progress is like a precipice

i knew about the          rocks

long before my pessimism

took over

corroding the oars

                        my bores

counted like stars

yawning as naturally as breathing

boat body bodhisattva

drowning in the air

sinking in the blood

world   me                        (mindless)            me          world

nothing is so big and cavernous

so         ingrained

in occult emptiness

within the rising steam

of hot silence

            the anchor

the destiny

simultaneously my hunger

the greasy milk of the sea

fattening the grand course of solitude

scraping against the seabed

slowing the haste

            the waste

a motion brave and stupid

pushing me like a vessel

of filament

            farther              further             away

from the goal of existence:

 

stillness

 

 

 

 

Existential Poems

dirty soul

If I could do something
with this mess inside
do something similar to what snow
does to the argentine sky
constellating it with the falling
flakes of a weeping
chaos

I would be swarming
with zigzags of pleasure
and pain
collapsing under the weight
of
chance

then whatever remains
would melt
find the lowest cavity
of my dirty soul
and stagnate,
quietly
so quietly
dying
down

there.

 

poems

mirroring

I bite their existence
like a damned fruit

I sit at their bar
built for other drunks
that didn’t come
half around the world
to sit
simply there

it is their smells
their unkempt mustaches
the long borrowed smiles
the occasional spill

I tuck away in my thoughts
their paper-thick laughs
like wasted napkins
with doodles and debts

I pluck their noise
keep its seed

their game
is my
mirror.

 

poems

sentid

To feel

vida
imposible
como el sonido
del sabor
que se derrite
sobre la lengua
del pensamiento

todo lo que toco
se empieza a disolver
como superficie
rodar como
onda del olvido
que atraviesa
lo que
sucede

era ruido
tu amor
a la
verdad

huelo
el rastro
de una idea
que me recuerda
del aroma
de esta
soledad

 

 

Poesía Nihilista

town drunk

Artist beer drinking

It feels good
not being an artist
no language to impress
philosophical thoughts on cheese
a bit guilty of the next beer
depleting bank account

it feels good
to walk on snow
so crisp and pure
drinking the next beer
getting drunk
and all the rest

it feels good
to see the snow
fall
my cold breath
dunking beers
and all the rest

if feels good
to have left Berlin
now just a town drunk
not even a
punk

 

 

 

poems

chance

Window of Love

This is my chance
to render existence
beautiful, justify it all
this is my chance
to leave a mark
in the thicket of irrelevance
that encircles life
this is my chance to create a gem
of poetry and longing

the universe
I see
is but a sketch
an attempt
the purest game

miracle comes in between
the things that are by chance real
I love its
magic

I am touching
the soul with silence
– that art thou
stargazing the mind

this is my chance
to suffer
the wisdom of solitude

my only voice
to reach out
to
you

 

Modern Poetry Blog

ontological yada yada

Window Drops

the downward slide of space
bare, exposing long origins
amassing by layers
as if it were sediments of time –
and these drops on the pane
are the benevolent visit
of superfluous beauty
that I smuggle into
the vain territory
of life

I’m ready to wing a logic
a mode of airborne communication
something of this collapse
can be spied upon
from above

with skeletons
we induce the flesh
the art and the tool;
so with these rudimentary droplets
the underlayer element
begins to fume
as a fire burning on
infinity

hush…

it’s gone.

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry Blog