contemporary poet

no sediment

light
breathable
settling in ever
heavier expanses
like millions of years of glaciers
shifting the crude element of skin
a ray in the spiral of a silent mood
fling the head like a child
oblivious of sight
of experience zooming out the pond into the sky
rocking up and down like a bird placing the sun
as an echo on the miraculous tree
away from the blue waters an afterimage
in the mouth of a fish
suspended
like minor fruit
in this vein of flight
glimpse
into the organs of thought
the measure and intelligence of an irrational kiss
repose
like a cluster of grapes
leaning their shadow
on anything but a memory.

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry

of unknown reverberations

unknown_reverberations_21st_century_poetry

gray ground
nestling
the little curvaceous
seeking self

a methodical
appraisal of the
unintelligible

empty fields
arising
an axiomatic love
of chaos
and labyrinth

light never
ages
but its image
traverses time

the tree was spotted
as the period
at the end
of a graceful sentence
that spoke of
a timeless seed

the eyes that were
given to me
eloped with darkness

an affair
of unknown
qualities
and reverberations.

 

 

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry Blog

lip of dawn

Dawn lip

how could I begin
when the earth below
me
clusters in great furrows
of graphic skin
its glimmer trapped
in pockets of wrinkles
with the open slit
of red dawn
the opening lips
of a raw horizon
with my imaginary blood
in its arc,
‘ how ’
in this awry mirror
to begin
and inevitably
to end ?

 

 

 

Nihil
ist
ic 

from the urinal

pee poem

I’m a starry sky
staring down a urinal
yellow piss
but isn’t it cute enough
to be a golden stream of light?
I have a nose, mirror!
it’s sticking out my fucking face
I’m ruined
the candle is going out
and there is so much more drink
to saturate the clouds of my eyes
I’m at a part
ending this exercise
of absolution
chirp, chirp
a tongue on the roofs,
I have a fantasy
you see,
wet, damp like the grass
or the epiphany of flight
my lungs are tired
a mouthful of beer
to exist
and in some room,
to sleep.

Absurd (Drunken) Poetry

of summer nights and toasts

Of rude weight
intoxicated iron
the pressing steel of %
by the shelter of glass
my petty personality
like molecules and wisps
emptying
anomalously
the flame of the wax
streets of melted passion
sad sunken vein of alcohol
morose atom
finally
roaming the expanse of society
and nothing remains
of pure
flashback.

Existential 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

the big rolling ball

I used to suffer

you see

I see a huge ball of beauty
rolling down
the corridor of experience
amazed, initially b/c there is a ball
but later simply b/c it is beautiful!
and this ball keeps rolling
beautifully, sometimes impelling me to say
it’s all dream… it’s all dream!
and yet I used to suffer
because I was sure
the end would come
this uncanny ball would
simply vanish once experience
removes the surface for it to glide
and I was so damn sure it would be over
I suffered mortally
imagining all this thrusting beauty
wasted in an absurd instant of death

oh yes
I used to suffer

but now that suffering is gone
and I keep the reasons why
to myself.

Nihilis
tic Poe
try

the blurry horizon is infinity itself

 

 

If we become survivors
the elect few
to renew the significance
of toil and dream,
if we are the last
two Rimbauds in lands
of shadow and cave,
what message will be engraved
in the red clay of poetry,
will we bring the knife close to earth
carving steep heavens on the surface of a rock?

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry

of fields

I shall be of slavery
sobbing in the night
when the moon is hidden
behind a fantastic mountain

I shall be of anger
heat upon heat
glowing insanely white
alone in the dawning desert

I shall be of lies
blood gurgling above
as the stars drown
in its sea of disease

I shall be of number
when the bronze prophecy
casts the skeleton of the fields
where children remember nothing

I shall be of incense
a sound perfuming clouds
or a string wringing time
leaving the last drop to dry

 

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry