poetry blog

an ode to whatever is represented

disparate_dimensions_21st_century_poem

I was divagating in a fluidity of language
collecting in the subjective aroma of an objective pinpoint
a star deriving its presence by its undulating waste of light.

I contained the arching earth and the moon
pretended to shift through the clouds of a mind
like an unconscious mirror spinning.

The arrow of the sensation was pointed
towards a nectarous instant of sound
a long necklace of harmonies.

My hour is traveling through imaginary pleasing effects
the seconds are my mistresses in red corduroy –
the age – a vague perfume of disparate dimensions.

 

 

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry Blog

drops of truth (a translation)

I have felt the temptation to exist
as oblique impressions of black mystery
on the muted mantle of a desert

I have felt the necessity of vanishing –
diving in the diaphanous ocean of death
in search of its currents of agile repose

I have felt the secrecy of the soul
it moves as a needle marking seconds
over the limpid circle of silence

I have felt the province of oblivion
as drops of dawn attached to the crystal
of my eyes when I contemplate – truth.

 

 

 

the perception of nothing

The curtain gilded by hidden source
everything is wrestling in a futile battle for birth
it is underground miasma where my eyes
fall upon like castles of music;
barely touched
barely a cusp from the fountain of indifferent distribution
the memory of existing essentially empty of existence
colorless fraction of silence
floating in the stream that roams
through the anfractuosity of the event;

my toy car
mother eyes
love

o

the fuel of phenomena

distant but within sight
asunder
the constellation of the hunt

blue impermanent struggle
words as the indeterminate quarks of reason

my folded heart
         tucked
in the plenitude of the unknown.

Nihilistic Poetry Blog

of the miniscule

Eternal doubt

take some

seed

of

the

noise

steal a

sky

from the

clouded            silence

trace

the

color

of this         fictitious

            birth

engrave

the

nail of death

in the blood

                                                  of fear

collect

the

 honey

like a

bee of

       queenless nights

measure

the eye

and taste the

tongue

of the eternal

nectarous

  DOUBT.

Nihilistic Poetry

of the city

Eye motion 

the horizon swells with rawness
a white cumulous beehive,
my thoughts circle the distance
like black heavy flies,
the hairs of time
stroking my mind
like the drunken summer of an engine;
the horizon swells with pink oil
all the trees are horses
with green galloping flowers as their
heads,
my joy is the shy protruding
obnubilation
frozen in the sky like a gray cusp of moon
–
I am the city
with the touch as long as the empty
avenues;
my eyes strange
as the streetlight’s gloom.

Nihilistic Poetry

on work

mans_artificial_world_21st_Century_poetry

It is there
a taste of machine
in my earth-rooted tongue
that although I am drenched
in phantasmagoria
my center is solid like
the bolt of physical law

it is there
a host of onerous mechanisms
LURKING
behind the quiet gleam
of motion

that in the splintered sky
of the treetops
a fabulous realm of myth, sleep
and transience is reposing
like the heavy fingers of god

but today
rocks are in my lungs
being ground for
the castles of math
and strategy

a player taken out
of the bench of chimera
to supply the field
with an extra glove of fact

today the world is no longer my metaphor
but the unalienable stage for
man’s work.

 

 

Poetry 2011

above distinction

Is there a possibility
of ache and wonder

some knowledge
of cave and cadence

has man
any recognition
of the dream
in the edifice
of infinity

the sun
is drowning
in red essence

everything
sleeps
like a butterfly
in flight

lucid
shapeless
earth.

revolutions of the heart

ancient_heart_poem

I only dream
of filling the body with dry sand
to relegate desire to veins of darkness
flowing relentlessly towards a dragging sea –
if hands and fangs were buried in true illusion,
thirsty accidents and ultimate beginnings;
the taste of polar penumbras
to blind the eyes with totality
defoliate the skin as absurd autumns
to lay thought as a carpet over existence
and roll down the slopes of nothingness,
as the denuded birds throw off their wings
to join the worms wallowing in the mud
of my ancient heart.

 

 

Poetry 2011

of salvation

To depart from equilibrium
incomprehensible
roads to destinations blackened
ideas of Hell, saints, criminals
suffering, redemption, death, exits,
they are daily bread for the hungry wreck;
is this still a world
I cannot speak of it
the internal voice is secret or alien
this flesh of unknown vapor
and desire guided by
intangible forces;
the cloud of life
is now dark and sorrowful,
the guilt of a single droplet
drowns entirely this mad domain,
in the soul the criminality of existing
is being laundered –
the quake !
unjust formulations of goodness
this rag of mind
dragged by hands fortuitous!
are these numbers and hours death
is it failure or a form of dream
my limbs are dying
the cascade of energy
expiring in the toilsome rage!
I desist the womb
and the world is a womb!
suffering of many lights
ache of myriad eyes
roped by nameless maledictions
there must be a drop
a fall
the divine grace and grave
of silence
but instead of divinity
suffusing this space eternal
pray for an open gross void
and salvation
the courage
to plunge into its
horror –
a soundless exit.

 

 

 

of the living

Routine streets

Of the living
clod of reality,
the bladed streams
of circumstance,
in the incinerated rush
of experience;
miracle of memories,
the enigmatic ordeal
of existing –
postponed,
quietly repressed
in the lethargic hum
of your
original routine!

 

21st century Poetry