world and nothingness

World poem


I once knew
a thing
called
the world,
it used to follow me
as intimately
as my shadow,
it would never
leave my side.


It would stand
tall and intimidating
behind my back,
often murmuring
its evil plans.


I gathered the nerve
one day
to look back at it,
in a quick swoosh
I turned with a
loud
AHHHHHH!


the poor thing
ran away in fright
leaving behind
a dizzying
blur.


That was the day
I got rid of the world,
only to find nothingness
quickly picking up
my trail.
 
I can hear it gorging
the vast prairies of infinitude
that were left exposed
after the bulky world
was cut away.


No need to run.
For you see,
in this state of freedom,
here is there
there is here.


As for nothingness,
I can’t wait
to kick its
universal ass.

 

nihilistic poetry

The night sat on my face

drunk moon

The night sat on my face
like the smelly old ass
of a rotten moon
just on the day
I’ve been fired from life
wandering off on the cliffs
of who knows what conundrum
and joyfully composing the silly
gooey poetics of a drunken soul
I recall writing something about
the foulness of philosophical systems
or the moans of relic religions;
whatever it was,
the night and its greasy weight
sat on my face
like the spits of moonshine
that drunks burp out
on the face of a
lonesome hour.

nihilistic wanderings