Welcome to Nihilistic Poetry, a contemporary poetry blog by Pablo Saborío.

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , on October 18, 2010 by Pablo Saborio

Modern Poetry

This site is dedicated to my poetry, art, and photography; among other productions of despair. Browse below to read my latest poetry both in English and Spanish. On the right side menu you will find my modern art paintings, photography, and existential and nihilistic quotes that have inspired me.

Clicking an image below will redirect you to that particular category.

 

©2001 – 2014 Pablo Saborío

Recent paintings

Posted in Paintings with tags , , , , , , , , , on June 6, 2014 by Pablo Saborio

three_paintings_pablo_Saborio

Click images for higher resolution

 

 

Title: A strange sea/ began seeping into the hole/ where I keep my love/   for incomprehensible/  things.

Acrylic on Canvas

2014 Contemporary Painting

Title: Stream of Consciousness VI

Acrylic on Canvas

Contemporary Art 2014 Paintings

Title: Random Impulse

Acrylic on Canvas

Acrylic Nihilistic Art 2014

 

 

©2014 Pablo Saborío

Nihilistic Poetry

Inside the screech of an owl

Posted in contemporary poetry with tags , , , on May 28, 2014 by Pablo Saborio

three contemporary postmodernist poems

 

Three poems published (buried) at The Screech Owl.

Do a page search for “saborio”.

Poems’ titled:

  • The Postmodernist
  • Four.
  • Hardly a time for poetry.

 

 

A longer poem: the event

Posted in contemporary poetry with tags , , , on April 30, 2014 by Pablo Saborio

the_event_poem

We experienced.
And then thought.
Later we looked forward
to something.
The anticipation ended.
The event elapsed,
it finally happened.
We were in shock.
And the angst is past
us now. The event
happened and we remain
in its wake.
We look at each other.
Thinking.
Analyzing.
The event is over.
Now, we look.
We sit. We eat.
We memorize the story
of the event.
We wait for
another event.
We expect something of
incomprehensible rapidity.
We wait for destiny.
We experience truthlessness.
We are sad.
We try being human.
Soon, with cruel
intensity, it will come.
We drink. We write.
The words imitate flames.
We wait for understanding.
Then another thought, then
a hand followed by a cloud.
The event comes nearer.
Immense, like a wave of myth.
We talk. We kiss and ignore.
And sleep. And wake up
in rooms still of darkness.
We remember. An event
but not the event.
We try. We encounter.
Some perpetuity of repetition.
We imagine chaos. Another
planet of structure.
We listen. We weave
pleasures. We choose.
We feign. An event
exceeds. It renews
laughter, anger.
We forget the rhythm.
We crush our hopes.
We get naked and less logical.
We depend on revolution.
Then an anecdote. A joke.
A look in the mirror.
We question. And doubt.
The origin, the meaning.
The event continues,
we dress. We read fifty
pages of civilization.
We shift and shadow.
The event dances.
The event disappears.
The event makes a bird
lose itself in our language.
We remember the story.
The voice in our skins.
We draw lines and contours.
We invent strange cosmic
silences. We stand.
In moisture.
We hope and fear death.
We build an afternoon.
A mess. And the actual
size of the event.
We stare. There is a gap.
In the event, an opening.
We feel. Natural events,
hard episodes of injustice.
We make room.
We undergo war. Another
circumstance. Combinations
of raw force. We occur.
We ejaculate. A memory
in stone. An ideal in oil.
In transit, absentminded.
We despise and lose.
A sock. A lover.
An immense event escapes.
An immense object out
of focus. There.
An event ripples
in the light. A small
dot of meaninglessness.
A glimpse of seawater.
We imitate. A song.
The parody of proof.
We collect things. And
solitude in the cereal.
We put out some trash.
A solitary knot of
event. We calm the eyes.
The elephantine tears.
The glands of happi-
ness, the bed disheveled.
We recall the person.
The air around a woman.
The terrible essence
of that man. We translate
feelings. That event
at the edge of dust.
We pronounce promises.
We are older.
We electrify the options.
The event in the eyes.
An ecstasy. A somewhere
else. Then, a symbol
eclipses our breath.
Soon, the event a
decadence of melody.
We enact bodies. We
swallow densities.
The morning makes
a gesture. We howl.
After petals. And
feathers. And clitorides.
A thought of painting.
Inferno or a horizon.
Of pines, the smell
of lips. An event
desired. We leave.
We act.
A purple city.
A night without years.
We sit in sand,
in mounts of sorrow.
We practiced nihilism.
A long event. A quick
existence. WE allowed it.
We carried a version
of will. A point
of home. We began
with ash. And purpose
on a mountain. We
yield and it hurls.
The event found us.
We gaze.
We see bright
older selves.
We one last time.
We make a speech.
The event leaves,
we needed.

Contemporary Poetry

Video art: the philosophy of wood

Posted in contemporary poetry with tags , , , , , , on April 28, 2014 by Pablo Saborio

philosophy_of_wood

Directed by: Jaime Lastimosa

Based on my poem “The Philosophy of Wood“.

 

 

Two poems

Posted in contemporary poetry with tags , , , , on April 27, 2014 by Pablo Saborio

two_contemporary_poems
Read them at Bone Orchard Poetry.

the nihilists

Posted in contemporary poetry with tags , , on April 8, 2014 by Pablo Saborio

contemporary poetry blog

Contemporary Poetry

abyss

Posted in contemporary poetry with tags , on March 17, 2014 by Pablo Saborio

abyss_contemporary_poem

Contemporary Poetry

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