amidst the formless

The Poetry of Awe

The face was carved out
Of sound and motion
Vision was clay of river
Through ages and lives
His face was the platform
Of transforming secret –
I was a full body of beer
Reeking smell of hallucination
The concept of man
Was the rustling leaf beyond the window?
My friend and I
Seeping into the occult layers of perception
Like rats of laughter we followed the maze
Unabashed by the terrible condition
The flaky reality we were inventing
At 6am of a holiday retreat
As automaton, as passion
The nude words of the intoxicated
As free bullets
Hunting the lie
Of the self.

My madness began at seven
Beautiful ineluctable madness
The sun was over the horizon
In wide strokes of light
Painting my ribs: the tress
The fields were windows
Clear lucid germ of becoming
My skin was everywhere
Like an atmosphere of beams
My song was the sadness
The pain
The burden
The guilt
In that bath of purity
My mouth was full
Swelling with
The verb of awe

Nihilism Poetry

in the span of 20 minutes

Sufferer's cloud

The rain has made
senseless x’s on the pane
beyond it
the turbulent clouds
initiate the horror
and a short trance,
my madness

no symbol
is free

to speak of mundane
matters
is now unacceptable

the world
useless as thing
but the most terrible
warning

an opening in the clouds

supine
on the ground
a yellow blindness
through eyes surrendering
I sense
blood fencing the sky

inside
an egg
of impatient
globular substance

a sufferer’s music.

Nihilism Poetry

shadows

There are years
that have made touch
            sediment
on our skins

we are still waiting
for childhood

one that makes toys of truth
vast rivers of ignorance

bird of drunk chance
in the azure of unknown

we are now rock hard dead lives
from our cavernous eyes:
                outside the fleeting world of fantasy

perplexing games naturally there –
we, nevertheless, have chosen dripstone repose

a slow stagnation
the light disappears
and I sense

we were shadows in the sun.

Nihilistic Poetry

touchable

Touchable

What I ask of you
is to invent a reason
something of a shade
like a morsel of labyrinth,
to shed a tear
like a long branch of truth,
a solitude that has the figure
of a stranger followed by smoke,
something that I need is so elemental
like the way you tear away the wings
faithless in the heights,
what I ask is for you to turn around
bright, tangible and ancient
peeling naked our sense,
it is not hope that I seek
but in infallible squalor
to touch your name.

 

 

Nihilis
tic Poe
try

the nascent act

The Nascent Act Poem

it is the air expanding
leaning invisibly
on the things
that lie awake
in the oblivion of
our acts

it’s in the hair
how it flees
description
under a delirium
of nods

it is your hand playing
with the light and motion
of a naïve hour

a choice
forever collapsing
in the past

it is melancholy
beading slowly
these pearls of remembrance
in the wasteful hand
of a poet.

 

 

 

Poems

from the bottom up

Poem on clouds

my mistake was
to make a philosophy
out of the gurgling sound
when hope
sank to the bottom
of the pond

I invested too much in clouds
they can hardly break
the rapid fall of my words
as they crash into
solid stupidity

I have to return
to the meaning
of stone

I have to tip over
my dreams
as boulders on summits

that wreck
below
could hurt like
a sudden
birth.

 

 

nihilistic poetry

Where I Live and What I Live For

Where I live Poetry

I kept
the elements tightly
together
coated by the universe
of my skin,
in there I live too
throwing in the fire
the logs of life,
waiting for the blaze
to engulf all nature
and allow me a glimpse
of some bliss
at the other end
of
living.

 

 

 

nihilistic poetry