There were so many things
left to do
the city had abrupt faces, ideals
our hands were eager with schemes
so full of intent and consequence
the flavors we would discover
some of the poetry entailed
but our hands were sealed
collapsing monuments on the bed
our bodies were already heavy
with the black of time,
we decided to end our lives
as naturally as a flow of music
our destiny was a quiet ending
alone in that dualism of self and terror
we would begin to fall
now sleeping towards
the arms of a nestling hiatus,
we began our descent
down the throat of nullity
certain that this abandoned world
was only a first dream
and that reality was fully awake
at the dawning clouds of death.
die
to my brothers
you should have seen
when I put my fingers
over the flame
they smelt of Kerosene
a very obscene
scene
the piano lid shut
I could have composed
a sad sonata
for all the future drunks
that will die hung-over
without ever writing a poem
you should have seen
the coarse roar of my spleen
gave everyone a start
heavy heaving
I should have been
a line of serpentine smoke
rising from the hands
of a drunk
that will die
hung-over
never knowing
why he was
so
mean.
the last drop
Remember
when we met
by that corner of a disguise
talking with the stillness
that is common to oil
it was an early October blizzard
that trapped us before
we’ve identified our inertia
locked in that cold
with a bottle of vodka and
letters from Rilke
we drank the last drop
of our nihilism
ready to die there
or live on perpetually
with no sense at all.
to another vision
Burn to crumbs
to infernal to love to
agony to evaporation
to rebirth to a thousand human
screams to another
to another vision
to another of all possible worlds
burn with anger
dare to bring collapse
collective shield of cowardice
be alone to be silent
to restart to reformulate
to negate all to remake all
from alas to alas
perish world by world
planet after planet
sun to sun
ignite! ignite!
ignoble race, ignite!
to hate to love again
to die to be reborn
ignite immortal missioners
to purge heights and abysses
unite in the fire
ignite in invisible apotheosis
from plight to undreamt of
life… begin!
Things past
As the days burn and die –
More massive and distant Past
O’ Pathos of the living memory
That grows dim and elusive!
Moments, phases and trends –
No more but by faint recollection
Emerge as nebula in the present
Engulfed in a personal sorrow
For these things that are no more
In my powerlessness, no choice
But to move forwards, keep going
Keep forgetting…