Most of the time
I cannot write
of what I see
or think
I feel but I do not seek
subjectively I am indeterminism
within a fatalistic mechanism of the soul
I observe, even participate
in the sacrificed logic
shedding
pale metaphysical tears
because the longer I live
so much more has gathered
about the edge
as more days go by
I begin to recognize
the happy truth
that I was
barely
here at all
I am so far away,
the moment
is a scorching taste of whiskey
in my half-agape mouth
my hand curling
the hair of
chance
nonchalance
alas is for me a word
signifying wings
history is in my sensations
to end this night
in the consolation of death
being as gentle as
sleep
far away from what is believed,
towards the prismatic dispersal
of becoming again
transitory
so far away
aging with the journey
of name
Nihilistic Poetry Blog
I have been standing
here
for the last decade
people call me weirdo
rocklike
monument
or
nothing
what am I waiting for
in this passive
insistence?
I will tell you
the glimmer in the eyes
at the exact moment
when the next one
realizes
that everything is in its right place
and nothing more needs
to be done
the rest is fable.
Modern Poetry Blog
the air
suspense
essential passing
I sense life
as a song
surrounding
a cloud
soft motion
I hover
like a circumference
with no edge
the living and the dead
sleep next to me
tonight
broken azure
pieces of joy
clashing
in the silent pause
fly
in curls
in the air
that surrounds
the fallen
melody
of
time
Modern Poetry Blog
I am heaping like an
intersection
of instances
dispersing as the floral
loop of sleep
tangibly draped with invisibility
the static beeping of my departure
witnessing the burst of egos
so uncontrollably distant from each other
in the topography of my identity
I am lost between the trees and the forest
I can’t see the wood
for the raw wildfire of my
existence
all I am saying is that I have no control
in moments like these
being a Buddhist
would have been a good idea.
Modern Poetry Blog
Automata
eject the unconscious
under the wild smear
of the event
anger
a coil
like a spin
on the axis
of regret
together
like the skies
change as the seasons
of our fears
waiting
while creating
the future
that entertains us
like a drug
in the mouth
of time
Modern Poetry Blog
there are rare days
that begin
with orchestras crying my eyes
colors dripping memories
city strolls in mammoth steps
I carry pocket-sized chaos
on my shoulder, pretending to be a pirate
on the sea of modernity,
off we sail
into the wind
as plastic wrap
buoyant on meaninglessness
there are rare days
that begin
with suspension points
calmly insinuating that
life is passing by
there are rare days
that begin
with tiny airplanes tied to the tips
of my fingers
seems like I’m about to take off
but then I remember
the anchors tied to my toes
that sink me
into
never mind.
Modern Poetry Blog
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
because the wind grows my nails
I sit this evening
on the ledge of an ancient
mystery
the rain is the dream of the present
the noise of rock
of my bones –
penumbra is the rejoining of fragments
in this quiet atmosphere
speech is green grass returning
to the distant seed
because the wind has fed from
these thoughts of dimension
I am bottom
of the
pendulum life
Modern Poetry
I don’t talk much
what’s going to happen
probably doesn’t
that my silence
travels here
nowhere else
unshuffled words
my ideas circle
like moths
about a light
inconsequence
too bad
I aborted eternity
for
this spurious
paradox
of
life.
Nihilistic Poetry
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