if there were

If there were something
to unify
I’d build a bridge
between partial reality
and the wholeness of nirvana;
had there been
something to rescue
I’d make an ark
from the planks of essence,
letting in, one by one, the species
of the invisible –
if there were something
with purpose
I’d carry it on my shoulders
till I could set it free
in a new meadow of illusion; –

if only there
were there something
other than me
around here.


Nihilistic Poetry Blog

an attempt to understand


Motion of orange limb
cloudlike epicenter
in the mindful gap
of my vision –
bulging multitudes
of dismay
faraway kaleidoscope
in the origin of the mind,
of dense, opulent
location – married to
chance and improbability,
the bread of destiny
in the ruthless jaw of divine
novelistic forces –
a day here
and a bulge of eternal
spiraling towards each other
like the allegories
of the eternal return
and the empty


Poetry 2011

unuttered world

The sky: my desperate dispersion
an expansion creeping slowly in
the autumn fields of my lost war
manifest the gesture that condemns me
to seek lavishly the sighs of unnamed
                      saints and mystics
heavy with the saddle of onrushing years
seeping the dripping paint
like the dance of mechanical yesterdays
the grave of my birth and burying
thus a multitude of poems – astray
detached from the events of time
isolated in the nirvana of untouched perception
sky, fragment of other lives
or why November and dying
that last sullen word behind chaos
a return
a miniature spot
whose own language
cannot participate in its description
thus the sky and the lesser me
thus a slow sleep in an immense unuttered world.


Nihilistic Poetry


Free wanderers of the spirit, you astronauts in the lost space of indecision, all of us that have noticed and condemned the irrationality of our age, yes, you passionate survivor that in the mist of these nonsensical years battle through the current of conformity in search of a justification, a raison d’être, a simple satisfaction that will overshadow the ever-lasting presence of frustration.
We are the inheritors of a struggle that has pervaded all of history. Our efforts so essential in the field of human potential must never come to an end. In these complex societies that require even more complex solutions to cure the collective madness, our perseverance must not wane. Even if most attempts to heal the wound of civilization have failed throughout history, the spirit of the rebel will live on as a child of that irrepressible force that commands human existence: an energy that will ask of us to emancipate man from his self-imposed shackles.
Our mistrust in human conventions, ideologies, and reforms should not stop our search for an immediate liberation, a source of enlightenment, a spring of contentment. In peeling off all boundaries we still have a chance of finding a secret treasure in nature, beauty, art, brotherhood, work, love, poetry, even in the darkness of suffering or the maniacal passion of a philosopher, somewhere within these and all inspiring things we may stumble across a beautiful sensation of peace, a harmonious agreement with what is most essential in life.
But what is the most essential?
This each wondering mind must seek but I am sure that with sufficient honesty and perseverance we can find that basic need and satisfy it sanely. Then we may watch our torments wither away and vanish as our reality elevates itself into a more exciting and promising realm.
Allow this vision to settle in:
Long, unanimous cries and shouts into the open sky, not from another fascist’s Holocaust but from an inexplicable mad ecstasy, the long-awaited contact with pure joy.


POEM  ii

Why do I feel I must carry
in distress and despair
the weight of the universe
                       heavily laid on my back
How can I ignore the monumental,
the towers of suffering all life
must sooner or later endure
                       and perpetually misunderstand
How can silence substitute
the boundless pain in every
instant of transience,
                          every day and night
Inexpressible this senseless world!
But a spark of total nirvana
when submerged in this chaos
                         I let everything go…

The Great Unknown

There is a startling recognition in the first blink of the day, when the eyes open their lids, raise the gates of secluded darkness and the light-rays of colors come streaming into the cognizance of a new day. This recognition I speak of is far from definable, it is the unspoken conviction that life is altogether unknown and new. I awake to a new day, a new series of uncoiling sensuous experiences emerge passively from all around me. I say passively because I do nothing and the whole world around me pours into my consciousness like a voracious waterfall falling into a crystal diaphanous pond. As soothing as the morning light is it announces a silent scream urging me to interrogate my commonsense, to question my convictions, to ask this futile conundrum: where does it all take place? But as soon as I ask this query and reply with words the question loses all meaning. It is not a question to be answered by the wit of our words. It is a question answered in silence. It is to stop repeating compulsive nonsense in our heads. It is to remain still and perceive whatever 


And remain there. |Silent|Still|Calm|Quiet|Mute

Where does it all take place… forget about what you know about the mind, the body, consciousness, the human brain, the weary heart.

Focus on your perceptions in the same manner as you would look at a flowing river… nameless, ineffable, and unutterable.


I come back to my computer. And write about it. Baptize it with names and riddles. I call it: