contemporary poetry

it’s not always easy

The iris
expands
way beyond
the circumference of light itself
that stare you give me
makes my skin
rockhard reptilian
immersion is your talent
deluge as dissatisfaction
till I drown from inertia
your heart is a fish
in the reddest sea
my bait is saline love
your iris is a flying saucer
abducting my hope
nothingness is two feet away
but I’m afraid to look
in this sad world of ours
eyes should have been
history’s greatest revolution.

 

 

modern poetry

meaning of this

meaninglessness_poetry

I was walking down
the streets
trying to perfect
my pronunciation
of the word
meaninglessness
I repeated it
frequently aloud
meaninglessness
meanínglessness
meaningléssness
meaninglessnéss
for a while I stopped
to look up at the
starry night
standing on bridges
and stare at the
water below
skim through neighborhoods
in dim artificial twilight
but then
I continued
meaninglessness
meaninglessness
like a meaningless
obsession had taken
hold of me
meaninglessness
meaninglessness
till suddenly
it was no longer a word
but absolute noise

 

I carried on
that night
in that meaningful chaos
that laid before me.

binary values

Binary CD View

I am caught
inside the instant
of capture
my life a
photograph
in your unphotogenic hands
I am waiting
for the broadcasting
of shadows
in my primetime doubts
a ringtone of astrology
guiding me into my sins
I am needing
autoplay in my decisions
long playlists of pseudotruths
in my routine as an
answering
machine
that has
no
answers.

 

nihilistic poetry

an experience

That I must use language
to describe an unusual event
which was anything but words
makes my task already
futile
but I will communicate
the strange braid of emotion, perception and thought
that made that moment possible
as I was standing
at the end of a sidewalk
a piece of, what it seemed like,
a poster
was stuck to the ground
and an outreaching extremity
hanged over the miniature precipice
between the sidewalk and the gutter
this limb of paper
this appendix of matter
fluttered in the wind
and I felt as if standing above
a slice of eternal existence
flapping under my very feet
a small, oblique, strand of whatever
moving in sequences
that would make
me believe
in
beauty.

 

nihilistic poetry

layman’s philosophy

SENSE
that perhaps
our senses
make no
SENSE

 

REASON
gave me
too many reasons
to quit
REASON

 

MIND
said
would you mind
being out of your
MIND

 

WILL
I ever
free
my free
WILL

 

 

modern poetry

beyond language

burnt faded fringes
encapsulating us
as an old portrait of sacrifice
who stares at us
from the other side of subjectivity
my fingers slice and rub
the plateau of your belly
but I see the Dead Sea in your eyes
I am no longer a man
you undressed every concept
shedding words like a leper
I drank your taxonomy
like a famished unabridged dictionary
you said abstraction was like a harem
of fellating paradoxes
that’ll suck me dry
I left the continent hiccupping truth
I am no longer a man
for I still love what has no name
no one can deduct
why
inside burnt faded fringes
some of us
sacrifice
the
word.

 

 

 

Modern Poetry

for lack of definition

I have enough fall
to crack open
my soul
the yolk of essence
oozing through my
ribs

I keep evaporating
but the clouds
won’t integrate my
formless mass

my thoughts taste
of cinnamon and world war
and yet they failed
at school

it’s time to saw off
my hands
and let poetry
be made
with
unlicked          journey.

 

 

 

contemporary poetry

soul in it

Frenzy
shot
bullseye in the heart
of society’s prodigies:
the quitters

Wild
irrevocable
reading Cioran
blasphemously drunk
or stoned
speed techno flesh
in the early hours
of disaster

Years in despair
the world
a blank bullet
and all the
fury
ready
to shoot dead
the sad beautiful
galaxies

Who will moralize
us
you, automata politicians
pedophile religions
Wall Street noise
or 7 effective habits
for irreversible
boredom

Free
chaos as the
jury
a pack of smokes
while surveying
the world’s cancer
outgrow
our own

The wild fire
of our philosophy
supernova of exasperations
intravenous soul
into our antics
bruised forefathers
in our dreamscapes

a rebel with
metaphysical whiskey
listening to tunes
you’ll never hear
sitting at a bar
you’ll never know
waiting in a night
you’ll be as good as dead

a junkie
a messiah
an anthem

yours sincerely,
                        Poetry.

 

 

 

nihilistic poetry