i feel like the ultimate theme of all of my poems lately have been my own philosophical and spiritual surrender to nihilism, which is useless and will lead me and itself nowhere considering that all poetry involved with nihilism negates itself -how long can I live my life and write poetry endlessly proclaiming that everything means nothing? where will that get me
on that note..
my life is an eternal temper tantrum
as i bang my tiny fists against celestial fabrics
and i quiver and shake with renaissance rage
cursing stardust and my internal star-parts
shedding the evolutionary necessity of a deity
we find ourselves spindly and naked--embryonic caricatures
shadows of our own depictions of the perpetual
'finding truth' is relative to spiritual solubility
i am resigned to recognize
by losing ourselves in universal torrents
we will find ourselves! -and then be gone
but the unending itch of this epic glitch
that makes me shiver and spit and surrender my fists
must be borne alone (i fear)
for we live alone! and die alone!
death defines us, in a way
alone. alone. alone. alone!
death defines us-
in a way
Sunday, September 23, 2012
saturn raced through 'dizzy cerebral' time
Presented to you by Christopher
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3 comments:
"by losing ourselves in universal torrents
we will find ourselves! -and then be gone"
I really like those lines. To me this poem has a really great voice; it has a personality that is undeniable and strong. Even though I usually hate lack of capitalization I think it works here, adding to the whole pointlessness message.
Very nice, if a bit depressing :P
^I hadn't noticed the lack of capitalization, but I like it.
If your nihilism is negating itself anyway, then what's the point in stopping now? Might as well continue being nihilistic for now, since it all is pointlessly negated. (This is a feeble attempt at irony. Please don't mock me.)
I like this.
Self-aware angst is the best.
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