literature

more heavens

It dreams, sounds, quivers like a barrage

drenched in nostalgia these figuratively unknown

release the hungry words to pillage the earth out of its meaning

left with the questions that have already been answered by

above-the-clouds, silences-drawn-by-the-desert, light-colliding-water;

a definition that can be caressed and departed from

words that came so close to smelling of life

puny insignificancies that were almost a secret under the skin

my hand, these verbs and the kill

pogroms and a consequent silence

I surrender

due to bluest aim

as a truth that defeats

a heaven in me

 

 

far away

Far Away Poetry

I am so far away,
the moment
is a scorching taste of whiskey
in my half-agape mouth
my hand curling
the hair of
chance

nonchalance

alas is for me a word
signifying wings

history is in my sensations

to end this night
in the consolation of death
being as gentle as
sleep

far away from what is believed,
towards the prismatic dispersal
of becoming again
transitory

so far away
aging with the journey
of name

 

Nihilistic Poetry Blog

true history

I have been standing
        here
for the last decade

 

people call me weirdo
rocklike
monument
or
       nothing

 

what am I waiting for
in this passive
insistence?

 

I will tell you

 


the glimmer in the eyes
at the exact moment
when the next one
realizes

that everything is in its right place

and nothing more needs
to be done

 

the rest is fable.

 

 

Modern Poetry Blog

intentions

Drug of Time

Automata
eject the unconscious
under the wild smear
of the event

anger
a coil
like a spin
on the axis
of regret

together
like the skies
change as the seasons
of our fears

waiting
while creating
the future
that entertains us
like a drug
in the mouth
of time

 

Modern Poetry Blog

exit to enter

Gate to heart

All that I prophesy

is the way the world
spirals unto itself

there
space and dream
hibernate into consciousness

the product of my speech
is the withdrawal of meaning
in words
from reality to possibility

multiplying the interior
by tearing asunder
every perception
into further
fragments

ultimately
I have noise
as fur over the idea
of myself

beauty
sideways to phenomena
precipitates
towards the pinpoint
of         my
    heart

 

 

Modern Poetry Blog

never mind

Never Mind Mask

there are rare days
that begin
with orchestras crying my eyes
colors dripping memories
city strolls in mammoth steps
I carry pocket-sized chaos
on my shoulder, pretending to be a pirate
on the sea of modernity,
off we sail
into the wind
as plastic wrap
buoyant on meaninglessness

there are rare days
that begin
with suspension points
calmly insinuating that
life is passing by

there are rare days
that begin
with tiny airplanes tied to the tips
of my fingers
seems like I’m about to take off
but then I remember
the anchors tied to my toes
that sink me
into
never mind.

 

Modern Poetry Blog

by the wish

I don’t talk much
what’s going to happen
probably doesn’t

that my silence
travels here
nowhere else

unshuffled words
my ideas circle
like moths
about a light
inconsequence

too bad
I aborted eternity
for
this spurious
paradox
of
life.

 

Nihilistic Poetry

I was born Dionisio Palacios

Poetry of Sin
I was born Dionisio Palacios
in the poverty
of my hands
I wished I had
the sky heavy with light
as a noon of sweet fruit
so I could taste the earth

I lived in Rua Moderna
between two worlds
that made me feel
like a schism
separating the two

I worked with letters
languages whose words
could evoke
daybreaks in my
blinding madness

I was sentenced to death
and hanged
for the murder of an ideal
an abstract sin
the abomination of believing
that nothing exists

   but the whisper of the stars. . .

 

 

the great civilization

The Great Civilization

where’s the off switch
for all
endeavors

the icicle of reason
has melted
leaving a small puddle
of fictions
at my feet

and we will build
and build
assemble great systems
to the outer edge of the milky way
and back

the civilizations, the civilizations
with its civilians hooraying
     their democracies pushing
the sciences inventing
         the artworks embellishing
the museums and the highways accelerating
     the capital erecting
              the monuments
of the great laughter of achievement

while the black smoke of reality
swirls
into nothingness dreamt.

 

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry

I am an egoist

I am an egoist
the tides of the galaxies
are for my amusement alone
the backdrop of the world
is the stage for the drama
of my sadness
I have eternity as my own
reality-show
the concatenation of events
stroll before me as a parade
offered to a king…
but as a king
I still yearn for more
I look for the edge of existence
looking, as it were,
for something else
something not yet invented
lurking behind the world of things,
perhaps a mist
belonging to another reality
untouched by this world;

                a thin fog
I surmise,
                     of impossible bliss.

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry