pablo unbound

Pablo unbound

Horribly dreamt
I have a street
its conceptual secrets
like invisible rage
I pertain to abandonment
it hurts to disappear
wakefully vanishing
in the gaseous actuality
I roam like invisible pain
hidden behind monstrous eyes
eavesdropping, like sun of insects
interminably the hour and a smile
release… release my skin
hurdled over blank shrub
my feet slither pass the common earth
alive with some deadly truth
I run
and shattered are
the windows of lies.

Existential Poetry

out comes

puking poetry

By time
I was aware
the puke was everywhere spreading
like the universe
I could see traces
of yellow
and acid
pain spiraled in
this was suffering
but I
emptied
free of content
overtook space
as a substitute
to
existence.
 

Nihilistic Poetry Blog

night-voiced

Sadness, Despair Drunk Poetry

The sadness of the rain
falls
over the happiness of process
we go down to the corners
and take a piss
to avoid the police
and the exuberance of being guilty
then we go back inside
where despair is dissipated
towards the music
and
the noise
makes us forget all the pain
that made us cry in the dark
of a summer night
let’s be brave
betray
so we drink, drink, drink
and then we talk
talk and talk
the flowers on the wallpaper
made with the scent
of the spring
we never had
this is the wood
the glass
the concave walls
the drunk echo
nobody will record
for the annals
of
history.


21st century poetry

mental impairment

Dead_Animal_Slaughter

Blood
what is it?
we spill it
in the sea, land, air,
it moves: shoot it/sell it
my eyes
retreat
their swollen veins
as synonym to animals
I feel the guilt
here in cluster city
army by determinism
the sapiens beast
beasts of language
consuming and plunder!
irradiant ecosystems
Judge,
I plead guilty
punishment: stupidity
yes,
bereft of innocence
I walk towards the sea
with suicidal venom
leaving behind
the machinery of pain
I fueled;
for what am I
to say what’s right or
wrong.

the tunnel

Tunnel_nothingness_Nihilism_Poetry

pain rains
on me
like sleet
shaken off
the grey clouds
by a bored god
careless
in his steps
a punishment that
comes to me
for being a murderer
of silence,
interrogating
the rows
of bartenders
pleading them
to help me set up
a light
at the end of
the dark tunnel
of time
a beacon
so the alienated crowd
could finally
stop the frenzy
when they
see
it’s only a tunnel
and nothingness
at the end.

 

                          contemporary poetry

a possible death

dreaming death

The end
had come
plummeting to the ground
my fingers spread
making one last contact
with the sidewalk
the rough cement
at the base
of this ultimate world
I was dying
my heart had only a few
beats left
before the entire
intoxication of life
would vanish
and I
touching this world
for a last time
on the street side
the hard grey cement
the pain and the beauty
the last sight of sky
the last gust of air
leaving
all the strange
beautiful
perplexing realities
within the earth
that was holding me
for the very last time.

Bamboo

 Even though it is immeasurable
       My prison is still tight as skin
but my horizons wide as silences

Although it is incomprehensible
       The moment is clear as pain
but the mountain inside cold as ash

Since I have known only one
       Many drops fall as from bloodshed
but the fragile division was born as orphan

Nonetheless I was lover of the loneliest desert
       Counting the walls that serve as mistakes
but swallowed all the scriptures that read as noise

Thus, metaphorical speaking aside
       The clouds raised thoughts as mothers
but motion now seems so still as bamboo

 

Return to Beyond Language

They were there…

There they were, shattered

      sidewalks murderous sidewalks

frozen in their disorder, fractured by black color

     and had to reach down

        and pain their unfeeling scars

but this is not about sidewalks,

               it resembles that primordial awe

or the seven cold nights of tribesmen

         it intimates with old necessity

and the heavy mist that kills without moving

   because further down by the hollow blackness

            of cracked sidewalks and rapid decay

desasosiego, was called once in Spanish

           spontaneous hymns of indigent earth

shadowless religions with no clouds on their backs

       noiseless disaster tamed by echoed habits

stepping beyond – further into hopeless air

                 and with it, the truth concealed

hidden encounters with the ultimate Inexplicable

        certainly having probed the depths of terror

the animosity of rebellion and the flakes of solitude

      in what seems like ages of torment and desasosiego

         by the unknown light of trembling – hardened

frozen and broken like irrelevant sidewalks

           forgiving the ancient errors of willing blindness

alone, amongst these detached blocks of cold cement

           my finger slithered their gaps,

and call me mad, lost and nocturnal – again,

           I was nowhere, in calm beauty:

my irrelevant isolation.

A definition of consciousness

 

This vengeance of feeble consciousness

engulfed in the wild roar of mortality’s ocean

battling hopelessly with madmen’s zest

diseased with the poison of its own vitality

secretly conjuring fantasies for eternity

dripping down the spine of Illusion herself

drowning in pleasure and soaring in pain

nurtured by the stings of challenge

greatest when forgetful of itself

crippled by the burden of its weight –

the threshold of all realities

           and because, weak and coward,

   possesses doom in its very heart

abandoning the mellow horizon of non-existence

          captive of its deadly fear. 
 
 
 

 

I fear,
therefore, I am.
  

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