the origin of birth

poetry_of_origin

 

If you tell a kid
that can’t remember being born,
you were born of your mother,
from your father’s seed
you come from a line of lovers
that started way back
before the instrument of love
when there was only form
forming flux and
the structure of diamonds
everywhere protruding
from the mystery
of dark pulsation.

 

 

 

Contemporary Poetry

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

unuttered world


The sky: my desperate dispersion
an expansion creeping slowly in
the autumn fields of my lost war
manifest the gesture that condemns me
to seek lavishly the sighs of unnamed
                      saints and mystics
heavy with the saddle of onrushing years
seeping the dripping paint
like the dance of mechanical yesterdays
the grave of my birth and burying
thus a multitude of poems – astray
halfway
detached from the events of time
isolated in the nirvana of untouched perception
sky, fragment of other lives
or why November and dying
that last sullen word behind chaos
a return
a miniature spot
whose own language
cannot participate in its description
thus the sky and the lesser me
thus a slow sleep in an immense unuttered world.

 

 
Nihilistic Poetry

A nameless world

 

 

At the start of a new poem

 the world is born again

as if I have never written a word about it

    and was experiencing it for the first time

these trees are not trees

   this sky is no sky

I still don’t have a name;

    I see a spark

and try to name it,

    then it’s gone

and all I have left

   is a bunch of useless words.

 

 

 

Useless 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

Joy of Participation

From the dark cloud
   that was my death before my birth
From the impervious past
   that is my womb
From nothingness void
   that sprung my being
      into this magnificent universe of light
 
As I awake
   from the caverns of dreams
My eyes visit
   a strange changing realm
Vision has kindled
   the torch of nature´s stage
 
Amongst crowds, streets and trees
   silent contemplation reveals
the daily world (of chats, smiles and meals)
   as mysterious as death and the galaxies;
on this planet
   repetition has blunt the miraculous
 
Frightening as it is
   this irrepressible human world
never to forget
   it belongs to a greater whole
Small is our size
   but great our joy of participation
       in this universe incomprehensible