Oedipus Coloneus

This is earth

here is earth
all earth dreaming
this sliver of earth
this earth of maze
a rueful path on earth
all earth divine
hard as cock
as breasts voluptuous
this earth of sex
and dream and pain
here is earth
all earth excelling
in voice and void
this earth like
body drunk
with melody

 

 

CONTEMPORARY POETRY BLOG

of riddles

Clouds night

Hunger of blue void
the mirror of the sky
like a desk where I write
the big numbers of silence –
light blue song I imagine
traveling the fields of
my childhood, was
there a wrong window
in the house, an opposite
shadow to the sun?
Hunger blue beginning.
I’m ready to wrap the folds
of the blue world around me
and sleep, like an inebriated god,
through the eternities and the distances
of the missing answer.

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry

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.

 

 

 

gutter thoughts

Drunken Poetry

The
voluntary dissipation of time
eventless and motionless
decomposing
aging with the night
the loud blah of history
no goodie-goodie stuff
at the end of this line
the long fucking wait
the fucking article
‘the’
the real drunkard doesn’t have
words left to spill
slime, dust and comatose sleep
down
against any attempt
why try, answered the void
truth in a glass
and another glass
and another
another shortcut
to death.
 
 
 

nihilistic poetry

pop song

Guitar poetry

If time had a sound
it would be the dark
arpeggio of a rusty guitar
and I’m unsure
why I chose a metaphor
for time
or why that image
should enter this poem
but I’ve been sitting here
not expecting anything
not certain of what to look forward to
all along
kinda swaying with
the wasting of every minute
almost audibly humming
to the repetitive chords
of this imaginary guitar
that someone could’ve picked up
along the way
to fill in the gap
the silent void
that sweeps through
the years.

nihilistic poetry

The choice

Nihilism Poetry

I have chosen darkness
in it
poetry swells,
literature breeds
dark and oppressive
I breathe in an atmosphere of coal
black ash swarms in metaphors and
contradictions
beating heart that’s become
sullen with life
I choose obscurity
like the ambiguous rose
within an unmovable abyss
I choose the ungraspable void
where borders and objects
interfuse with phantasmagorical thoughts
leaving no content, awaiting an obscure name –
in this dark dream
the Mysterious
is like wine
flowing through the veins
of whatever I am.

nihilistic poetry

nowhere to be found

Nowhere Lost

It felt like an absence
  because I found myself
naked and in darkness
the wood on which I sat
the timid air
the swollen imagination
could I repeat
my lucky survival once again ?
together, wed-locked
to the void that excites
me, to the nothingness
that caresses me, to the silence
that disintegrates me
I would remain
    somewhere, somehow
giving names to unknown
aspects of reality
    imagining myself naked
or aroused
  or isolated
or none of these
just then,
nowhere to be
found.

Nihilistic Poetry