Insanity
is the threshold of truth.
Insanity
nihilism
numbers and illusions
The desert
the streets are made of sand
crumbling tombs, atoms
they are disintegrating
sidewalks and numbers
bleached, ambiguous
some street signs
echoes and hallucinations
this urban hell
streets turn into cities
cities into graves
graves into civilizations
worlds into multiple voids
this is not philosophy
but it tastes like it
I, you, us
in a substance
quite unknown
still unidentified
that is the illusion of knowledge
secrets and denials
to become confessions
of the upcoming third millennia
when you are the tip
no longer the base
you fall
fall you disappear
in quiet intangible
sleep.
Awake or not
wave upon wave
silence within silence
void delivering avoidance
what is the word
for the miracles
that keep us alive.
Wordless chaos
How is incoherence
a name
for actual – wordlessness
segments
lack of coherence
there cannot be five consecutive sentences with meaning
deserted
memory and chaos
together
the world
is burning
language is boiling
the air
in which we speak
is tired
of another
prediction.
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.
From A to B…
A: (clasping hands in triumphal display) And that’s how it will all end…
B: (in pensive mood) All theory is interpretive. All facts are theory-laden. There is no pure objective world out there that we can measure and explain. The act of measuring itself is a creative process. We define reality as we go along. After a while, our own creations become idols, so that a law of physics is merely a cognitive habit. What is interesting to see is that every age in history has presumed possession of Absolute Truth. What will be revealing is that meta-narratives are relative to the epoch’s climate, ideals, unconscious motives, and so forth. Today’s theory will become tomorrow’s mythology.
A: (visibly offended) My god!
B: (smiling and sympathetic) But I’m likely to be wrong…
indefinable being
The last remnants of this bitterly afraid body, this ambiguous mind, this capsule in which the entire universe seems to exist – and outside, beyond the surface of this inexplicable skin, a blank void, a dark emptiness, a vicious silence. What in the end is the point of this unending preoccupation to make sense of what is finally unspeakable, to exist in a vast and profound space with miraculous shapes and forms, to breathe and beat a heart relentlessly while the plot of an unwritten play unravels — before these eyes full of wonder? However vainly the hours may pass, oblivious of the impending death of my surroundings, the death that will also come to this entity that strangely calls itself “I”; vain attempts to forget the inevitable, to resist the irrevocable. Had this self been able to escape permanently from the entanglements of disaster, had this ego renounced a borrowed language and survived brutally naked without philosophy, without history, without tales, without spoken love. Somewhere within the entrails of this phantasmagorical reality lies a reflection, a foundation upon which all things past, present and future are sustained, nurtured and consumed; it is a realm powerfully un-human, destitute of qualities and because of its effortless existence it remains sovereign above all things that strive. And maybe it is a joke, to conceive or imagine some sort of reality that will remain after all of us are gone, some sort of metaphysical ground by which our passing away seems less painful, less tragic. There might not be any foundation for the fear, the awe and the effort; every act, every thought, every failure is essentially groundless, and we are and will always be an unnamable race, an indefinable being.
Children of nowhere
Those rotten truths and the atrophy of written words
life is outside the inferno of cadaverous literature
the ever-increasing waste of past thoughts
attempting impossible resurrections
free the world from fossilization
allow it to burn and dismiss its ashes
our best experiences are never contained
they roam beyond the frontiers of definition
close those covers of inky nothingness
step into the bare unadulterated flux
mend with the unknown
Flee from cages of routine and metropolitan nonsense
recognize the hollow of every day
reject the veil of prospects and careers:
usurpers of wonder and transformation
children of nowhere
creators of ambiguity
exorcise the daemons of logic
celebrate your insanity!
An Attack on Science
Science is based on an unscientific judgment of value. Science and its followers claim that knowledge and truth about the world are only possible through the scrutiny of the scientific method. Therefore, all other sources of knowledge are doubtful, if not, downright mistaken. It eradicated subjectivity from its grand representation of the universe and claims to speak as matter-of-fact and objective as possible. However, the scientific enterprise has still to prove why we should deal with the cosmos as a problem to be solved; it has yet to answer why knowing is much more important than any other human activity. The great technological benefits we enjoy today are not at all essential; we clearly see the animal world enduring without vehicles or television, or notions such as gravity and entropy, such ‘animals’ even have very complex societies or innate flying abilities. Therefore science cannot claim to be the ultimate route to a better and wiser life, it is a historical phenomenon existing only for the past few centuries and not necessary to life on this planet. In this sense science is morally unscientific; it cannot provide evidence for why a scientific attitude is more preferable than, for example, an aesthetic or nihilistic one. This is simply because science has not been able to predict human emotions or chart our future decisions, it has nothing to say about what we should do; it merely states what is not what should be.
Scientific-minded people believe themselves to be the most rational minds today. They have associated rationality with one method of inquiry (i.e. scientific method) and have abolished all other sources of data and knowledge. This seems to me more like a limitation than an advantage, precisely because science cannot deal with the whole spectrum of our experience. It works simply on the observable external phenomena and has yet to contribute to an understanding of human consciousness. It pretended for many centuries to get rid of this uncomfortable fact but the shadow of consciousness has crept into modern physics and it is now clear that even basic physical concepts such as mass, distance, velocity, time, are dependent on an observer. In a broader sense, rationality should encompass more than just science and its mother logic, considering that science is narrowly limited by its inability to connect with our whole experience of life. In other words, we are aware of things that the analytic mind cannot formulate. The rational discourse of science is incomplete; it cannot be the entire picture since it lacks insight into our inner life which is as real and undeniable as the external world. For this reason we can learn about life equally as much from a scientific treatise as from a novel, a poem, a kiss or a beautiful landscape.
—
(This is not an attempt to invalidate science but simply a reminder that the powerful mystery of life cannot be grasped from one perspective. Those that are dedicated to the exploration of existence must remember: there are no official paradigms; we alone bestow authority to whatever we choose to believe. We cannot limit the cosmos to certain aspects of itself, it is beyond our attempts to reduce it to one knowable thing.)
We… post-postmodernists?
Our Age is too near to get sight of its boundaries, it is too early to understand its misconceptions. We are too dogmatic in our denial of dogma, absolutely certain in the impossibility of absolute truth. We refuse categorization, even the relativistic classification nauseates us with its blatant inaccuracy. We have exhausted the map of the expected, we have sailed off the edge of objectivity. Is there enough courage at last to tear open the last unexamined convictions?
Science has detonated such a bright flash in the sky of our conceptions, it left us bleakly trembling under the paleness of the explainable. Our lust craves for some personal knowledge beyond the downpour of communication. Yet, we are still too philosophical in the claim that philosophy is futile and irrelevant, too logical while we humiliate the world into meaninglessness.
Every man has always been in error. We scrutinize the lack of breadth in antiquity, humans living under the conditions of necessity. But has the wealth of leisure begotten any real savory experience of the magnitude of the universe? Do we not still live under the dining lamp, stuff our heads with hamburgers and neglect the vastness of space and time only to idle hours of curiosity?
Do we prefer to stand still in opposition to progress or move frantically to and fro in opposition to linearity? Is there much to gain in opposing the current of history? Does the weight of our question collapse under our temptation to doubt?
Why do we seek definition? How can we induce our subjective universe to submit to our words before we have been able to glance it all? Existence is too chaotic to wear the stale garment of adjectives and deductions. Whatever we seek – if we seek anything at all – lies beyond the fortress of definition.
Let the living eyes of the future bury us with their dead words,
for we will be by then … dead things.
Beyond Language 
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