I had a sense
meant for
flight
it has
failed
and
sunk
to the rock
smoke
and scream
of music
when we
are rats in a tunnel
I awoke
I had a sense
meant to eclipse
all the sadness
but it fell
into hell and
the one pleasure
of having renounced
hope.
I am
aware
that I
have no
meaning
that all
words
are only
ineffective
abbreviations
of the infinite
that
my choices
are
irrelevant
to what
exists
I am
aware
this has
no significant
value
and all
art
is
powerless
against
a mystical
minute
of silence.
It’s
all
black
and it is
spinning
the creature
is trembling
in the nook
of an illusion
shunning away
from the blaze
of stimulus
distrustful
of the cause
and the effect
we are the contraction
shriveling
to a singular
point of
fear
Half
the sky
in my laugh
shattered
into myriad
flakes
of clustering
snow
the white
concentrations
like palpitations
of the cloud
coming from
a vaguely symphonic
summit
where they touch
and perish
my drops
of comic
hours
I am a cosmic
view
behind the windows
longing
the cold
touch of something
external
an octave
higher
to rest
in a mute
miracle
in the lapse
of that
quietude
vibrating
in stillness
in a chord -
the infant
history
of
ecstasy
banging
my head
against
rock hard
reality
my bottles
of beer are
empty
and
my mind
full of
quack
unattainable
unreachable
undefinable
unutterable
unknowable
unrealistic
Buddhahood
the rain droplets
on the window pane
are particularly
quiet
alas.
The candle
opened up
its wax
like a vagina
Suddendly
releasing a continuous
flow of sperm
over its folded forms
I blew out the light
and all was quiet again.
gray ground
nestling
the little curvaceous
seeking self
a methodical
appraisal of the
unintelligible
empty fields
arising
an axiomatic love
of chaos
and labyrinth
light never
ages
but its image
traverses time
the tree was spotted
as the period
at the end
of a graceful sentence
that spoke of
a timeless seed
the eyes that were
given to me
eloped with darkness
an affair
of unknown
qualities
and reverberations.
The greatest liberation
came when I dropped
the pretension to happiness.
If was freedom from category,
from hope, from knowledge,
from purpose.
I immediately recognized
that reality has no meaning,
no destination, no description.
All happiness seemed trivial in its
relation to one condition or circumstance.
I preferred truth.
I did not find it in the philosophies, religions
and sciences.
The dawn of despair set in,
total and unequivocal,
but despite the existential ache that ensued,
it brought with its gloomy light the necessary
vision to initiate in truth:
the denial of all former values.
If existence was factually beyond
the reach of words,
it could not be grasped in recorded knowledge;
it could not be explained by the logical sequence
of premises and postulates;
if it had a truth, it needed to be
immediate and self-evident.
Truth cannot be imposed onto reality,
it would distort it otherwise.
Reality is the only truth –
and to discover what it is
I had to drop all attempts to define it…
merely become aware of it
and allow its transmutations
to speak its truth.
.
