Poetry

casually

unknown sky

Reality too sad
to be entrusted to the permanence of oblivion.

a young syllable
could escape

and make
a sun
within its
hermetic shadows.

I will remember the meaninglessness
how everything became
justified in its destruction,
a collapse so universal, it happens in an instant.

I dream about nothing and nothingness dreams about me.

Like two lovers morning and evening
rip off their names
and lie naked in the pure event.

I remember the laughter of the mystic,
his eyes flapping like wings in the open sky.

The mist of words
dissolving like incense
into the unknown.

 

 

 

 

 

 

NIHILISTIC Poetry

Swathed

 

when did it begin?
accidentally
reaching intelligence’s cul de sac
walking away with empty pockets
haven thrown all theories away
like burnt shreds of money
now dripping after
falling into a puddle of sensation
nothing belonging to me above or below
I foresee the outcome already –
a maddening silence
staring out the window
because the birds
are pretty.

 

 

Modern Poetry

the only thing worth knowing

I changed sides
of the road
walking
perhaps
to some ultimate
destination
I was wrong
it was only
another sidewalk
I had been
doing nothing
staring at letters
in books
without
knowing their meaning
the coffee got cold
I go for walks
when I get tired
of sitting.

I’d like to say
this is all true
but I only have
noise and vague memory
I have no idea
what I did
today.

NIHILISTIC Poetry

empty course

The petal has rivers

long opulent light against the breast
solely swirls in silent colors
my skin upon the sky’s skin –

certainties are wrestling
over collapsing possibilities

the leap has a tinge of sorrow
the chain rattles

a river of petals
aging
on an empty
course to bliss.

.

Nihilistic Poetry Blog

metapeesics

Absurd Poetry

 

have you seen
pee
splash wide
into a cascade
on the urinal wall
running freely
down the slope
of its white surface
wildly awake
before entering
the oblivious hole,
how I envision
all my decisions
thrusting forward
like a jet of pee
smashing against
the white mural of life,
how they would collapse
and stain the blank episode
of time
and inevitably surrender
like a trickle
that is swallowed
by a whirlpool of death…

 

 

 

on hollowness

What I employ
is not language
but the vivid shade
of movement and instinct
I have to be asleep
murmuring like a wide surface
of sea froth
twilight before the birth of pain;
my eyes expiring like new moons
in the obscure tingling of selfhood
only then
in that reflection
the hairs of the galaxies
sway like dark music,
the pupils expand
in one big womb of memory;
I remember
the place where the soul
used to be.

 

 

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry Blog

there

Poetry of eyes

There
by the brook of your stare
I meet the sound
of your drowning,
‘alas’ so light and lasting
a word surfacing like sighs from your eyes
I make room and stand back
so you run into the invisible
curl of a mistake,
my child you’ve begotten
sadness and its truth
is more distance than those streaming
glares that leap from walls to illusions –
there
I recognize our mutual meaning
nowhere in this fog
the outline of solution
nor the source of our misery.

Nihilistic Poetry