poetical investigations

Poetical_investigations_pablo_saborio

Visualize

the first act

of violence

that gave meaning

to the word

‘violence’

the first dog

that symbolized the

genus of all dogs –

the moment

when abstract

was no longer

a word

but the whole history

of the world

 
 

Imagine

the timeless

before we gave

it a name

or happiness

before it

became a goal

or truth

when consciousness

was still ineffable

and nesting
 
 

Suppose

meaning

was the hardest

bone

and eternity

a living

cloud
 
 

Conceive

matter as the

drying spirit

or spirit

as the sleep

of atoms
 
 

Assume

if only once

that essence

is the entire

instant of life –

and death

is the entire

essence of poetry.

Nihilistic Poetry

sketches in disguise

Sketch Cubist Man

(old sketch from 2007 - Pablo Saborio -)
 

 

the analysis of answers
only oceans in the pocket of silence

the tapping of grave thunderous black keys
being nothing but drips of red soul

to hold hands with a concatenation of winds
born from the music of immeasurable pasts

something has reached high and deep
like the chalk of an artist

drawing shades and swirls
like empty names of
existence.

Poetry 2011

smoke feels like brain

Smoke Poem

smoke touches brain
neurosis and all
have you seen it curl
like neurons thinking of clouds –
yes clouds are always in my mind
life is so barren of poetry
that the only word
that saves me is
CLOUD
a single
puff of shredded tobacco
cold in the lungs
a wild uproar of vapor
in the skyline of
awareness

 

nihilistic poetry

another form of convergence

If only you knew
the intensity of this wait

time has an abnormally short reach

I am conscious of every stub of hair
busting through my cheeks

these organs pulsating madly

fiercely
I hear my voice as a public declamation
and I know that I am
lying

if only I could find the right word
that tames the turbulent static
begin pouring soft flora
down my throat
the prayer is a form of evaporation

its crushing plenitude
opens up a region
for me to forget
my bearings

in the simultaneous act
of being keyhole and
spy.

 

Nihilistic Poetry Blog

my philosophy

philosophy poem

I am no longer immersed
somewhat buried or submerged
but closely tied or floating
with those immediate things we call by words
I am that I am
my most irrelevant philosophy
closest to the light bulb
the breath on my nostril
to the plan and the hope
I am abstractedly here
together with the contents of plain reality
since I have nothing to say
I stare directly at the center of objects
yes, they are there
and I haven’t yet said anything in particular,
however close I feel
to the intellectual assumption
we like to nickname
the world
my words seem abandoned
like the stone someone else
kicked aside
down the thorny bushes
of something else.

 

Nihilistic Poetry

As mountain ranges

What is the soundtrack
   to this constant disorder
and while the curve of this orb
    sings the tune of its oddity
I am crushed by every second of perplexity —

The white impermanent clouds
      the bus ride
all the new babies

The bullet chases me since birth
   when the kingdom of noise prospered
I see streaks of light beyond my window

I’m not my own voice
    fear is of the length of words
peace is murmuring for me
       as intensely as undisturbed rain
                over wide mountain ranges

Bamboo

 Even though it is immeasurable
       My prison is still tight as skin
but my horizons wide as silences

Although it is incomprehensible
       The moment is clear as pain
but the mountain inside cold as ash

Since I have known only one
       Many drops fall as from bloodshed
but the fragile division was born as orphan

Nonetheless I was lover of the loneliest desert
       Counting the walls that serve as mistakes
but swallowed all the scriptures that read as noise

Thus, metaphorical speaking aside
       The clouds raised thoughts as mothers
but motion now seems so still as bamboo

 

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