I have discovered nothing

the_outsider

I have discovered nothing

no potent spasm in truth’s tinge
no certain depth in writhing divinity

I have no enlightenment

no broad scar laid on the slope of thought
no electrifying branch igniting the empty length

I have not discovered any principle

no sinking song hardening the stone
no plaited temple wall where war reclines exhausted

I have no message

no filament of yarn towards Ariadne’s love
no hidden sarcophagus where suffering lies embalmed

I have discovered no primeval essence

no visiting visage vanishing vastly
no substitute for this sum of smoke

Contemporary Poetry

booze in my theology

Wide Open Eye

When I wake
the day
is
a wide-open eye

I had a god
under my fingernail
but onychomycosis
got to him one day

I am a connoisseur
of nothing relevant

by night
my
vessels
are empty champagne bottles
waiting to be full

I drink red, white, pink, yellow, black, eerie
wine
still looking for a fermented god
that even a nihilist wino can love
still looking for the wretched divinity
that will close the eye
of
tomorrow.

 

 

 

nihilist poet

Newfound

I, the dream of a god,

      an outcome of invisible hands

            at once performance and spectator

this precise instant

         this internal precipice

a newfound religion

      whose scriptures are written 

              in every one thing

where the god and the dream are the same

                  the cloud and the rock are inseparable

the sweet motion of transience

        coursing over the stream of eternal action

I, alone and united,

               one more spoke of divinity 

                  one more billow of infinity.

 

 

 

 

More Useless Poetry ?