Poetry

a day in april

motion poetry

The standstill motion
of the substance
around us

in a flicker
the wood is a infant body
laying on the arm
of a ray of sun

the hourglass has
a plan to move
the shadows

the incense is dead
reeking like a
flame of pus

the instant sails
through all the events
carried by the wind of memory

with a transparent dress
a ghostly rain
is expected to sweep
up the remains
the fragments

in an untitled and random quest

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry

minute details

Life will destroy you
and there won’t be any more words
to describe our love for
that which never came
into existence

imagine a bud
leaves in slow bloom
ages upon minutes
minutiae upon epochs
for a product
that never is finished
but goes on
from seed to form
back to dust and roam

life is strange
with surges of anxiety
I contemplate
its rather statuesque secrets

there will be no more words
or feelings or understanding
when the cerulean mouth of death
takes us in its mouth
under its pulpy tongue
and down the
infinite hole
of silence

 

 

none to fuck you you fuck you fucked youth

I have swallowed
all the colors of hope
and in my thirst
I still despair
like a black figure
set against the white emptiness

I’ve peeled off
the last sounds
from the mirror of music
still to be deaf
in the dead opaque dawn

while all the textures
and elements of the planet
offer me a cocoon
of velvet sensation
like a colorless rag

I still fall towards the night
of crude silence

I have thought out
all the possibilities
but the environment
of the heart is
still raw and incomprehensible

so touch the lips
of rain
or draw the
direction of
love

I owe none
I owe none.

mother

 

Life is too much
MOTHER
let me sink back
into your soft breasts
let your milk flow
like warm tree branches
over my defeated shadow
let it flow freely
into the grooves of my ears
until it descends into
the pit of my dreams
and blends there
with all the
pain
 

a meaningless epic

Not in the sensation
nor in any substance
I found the budding smoke
against the bitter pulp of your tongue
– an escapade –
stranger
in three seconds
you seemed like a new hero
unlikely to be born
but already running from death
with long undulating hair and cigarette smoke
as the aura of your magical feats of scorn ; –
I followed your pace briefly
soon losing sight of your epic trivialities.
I am intent of becoming hiccups
your dirty nails or the drunken laugh
with which all serious things
are consumed .
Where does your unguided purpose
take you now?
Who cares. Matters little.
I was simply eager
to be abducted
by some viscous phantom
a passing nondescript
taking me suddenly out
of my routine,
to exist carelessly
in the passive ruin and
ordinary acts
of someone else.

 

 

 

another day being something else

subjective poet 2012Half
the sky
in my laugh
shattered
into myriad
flakes
of clustering
snow

the white
concentrations
like palpitations
of the cloud
coming from
a vaguely symphonic
summit

where they touch
and perish
my drops
of comic
hours

I am a cosmic
view
behind the windows
longing
the cold
touch of something
external

 

 

 

nihilistic poetry