Archive for contemporary poems

tiny epoch

Posted in contemporary poetry with tags 21st century poet, contemporary poems, existential poetry, modern poetry, new poetry, nihilistic poetry, pablo saborio poet, poem, Poetry, poetry blog on November 3, 2011 by Pablo Saborio

Street poetry

what was that?
the color of the wind
or the order of the lips,
my hand in contortion
touching the intangible surface
of fiction;
I left the building
out
there
the night pinching the street
like a hungry jaw
the naked trees
as real as
the limbs of insects,
I wanted to remain
prostrated
on the sidewalk
like the dim casting glare
of the streetlamp,
nameless
in that minute
with all the beauty
of fact –

no longer possibility
but plain actuality,
a happy yellow leaf
in its autumnal decay
enduring its
tiny epoch
of death.

nihilistic poetry

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mystic flowers

Posted in contemporary poetry with tags contemporary poems, earth, earth poems, existential poetry, god, modern poetry, mystic poetry, nihilistic poetry, Poetry, poetry blog, silence, soul, universe on October 30, 2011 by Pablo Saborio

Mystic flower poetry

I let go of the beard
and eyelids of God.
It will rain, the eyes of the earth
will go blind, white breathless turmoil.
A boy with books and grand prophesies,
composing the sadness of the final silence.
An epoch to remember what I wanted.
The river of visions carries skin and mirror,
a noise of nowhere and nobody’s scent.
What beastly ache to be a fleeting universe
with no country except the island of thought.
I have no beard and the nausea of mountains;
I have in my mouth the salty meat of the soul.

Nihilistic Poetry Blog

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of the contemporary

Posted in contemporary poetry with tags 21st century poetry, contemporary poems, events, experience, historical poetry, ignorance, metaphysical poetry, modern poetry, movement, mystic poetry, nihilistic poetry, now on October 5, 2011 by Pablo Saborio

stellar movements

We have landed
in the experience

to reenact
the dance and
drunkenness
of stellar events

it is all
ignorance and
pure movement

in the field
of
now.

Nihilistic Poetry Blog

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black wine

Posted in contemporary poetry with tags 21st century poetry, ars poetica, black wine, contemporary poems, drunk poet, existential poetry, life, modern poetry, new poetry, nihilistic poems, Poetry, wine and poetry, wine poems on September 27, 2011 by Pablo Saborio

Wine Poetry 2011

I have closed my eyes.

In a mouthful of wine
the afternoons like throngs of mice
running hungry and wild down the gullet of
my absent body.

I taste in a nook of wine
oblivion- as a room
where existence breeds
in orgies of secret (and sweet)
mechanisms and laws.

It is all there with bubbles and stain.

My eyes are shut.

The coasts of my routine
full of drunk mist…
the departure – a breath – as a gust
of feeble constellations.

The sip.
Abrasive but fleeting.
Like the burn of a glimpse of sun.

My eyes are melting in black wine
while I drag the contours
of the untouchable world
into the invisibility of my sleep.

Poetry 2011

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the perception of nothing

Posted in Poetry with tags 2011 poetry, contemporary poems, contemporary poetry, existence, existential poetry, modern poetry, nihilism, nihilistic poems, nothingness, phenomena, poetry blog, quarks, reason on September 4, 2011 by Pablo Saborio

Perception of nothingness

The curtain gilded by hidden source
everything is wrestling in a futile battle for birth
it is underground miasma where my eyes
fall upon like castles of music;
barely touched
barely a cusp from the fountain of indifferent distribution
the memory of existing essentially empty of existence
colorless fraction of silence
floating in the stream that roams
through the anfractuosity of the event;

my toy car
mother eyes
love

the fuel of phenomena

distant but within sight
asunder
the constellation of the hunt

blue impermanent struggle
words as the indeterminate quarks of reason

my folded heart
tucked
in the plenitude of the unknown.

Nihilistic Poetry Blog

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of illusion

Posted in Poetry with tags 2011 poems, 21st century poetry, absurd poetry, contemporary poems, contemporary poetry, illusion, modernist poetry, new poetry, of life, Postaday2011, postmodernist poetry, short poetry, symbolist poetry on July 15, 2011 by Pablo Saborio

Red eyes

Of the corn
that makes residence
in the wrapping shadow
of time along the bark
of a tree

in the proximity
of approximation
the figure of life
is guesswork

the natural ponds
of objects
resonate as if
driven by the longevity
of clouds

the hand
inventing surface
from the ghosts
of light and edge

in observation
the bread of process
dissipating like smoke
inside the throat
of ravenous eyes.

Poetry 2011

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revolutions of the heart

Posted in contemporary poetry with tags absurd poetry, ancient heart, contemporary poems, dream, existence, existential poetry, illusion, modern poetry, nothingness, philosophical poetry, poems, Poetry, poetry blog, short poetry on July 9, 2011 by Pablo Saborio

Ancient Heart

I only dream
of filling the body with dry sand
to relegate desire to veins of darkness
flowing relentlessly towards a dragging sea –
if hands and fangs were buried in true illusion,
thirsty accidents and ultimate beginnings;
the taste of polar penumbras
to blind the eyes with totality
defoliate the skin as absurd autumns
to lay thought as a carpet over existence
and roll down the slopes of nothingness,
as the denuded birds throw off their wings
to join the worms wallowing in the mud
of my ancient heart.

Poetry 2011

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from man to page

Posted in Poetry with tags ars poetica, beauty, contemporary poems, english poetry, experience, forgetfulness, futility, humanity, inanity, literature, madness, mortality, pessimistic poetry, poems, poetry blog, poetry of man on June 1, 2011 by Pablo Saborio

Poetry yellow page

A man
Leaves a voice
On brume
That is of paper

To a solitary
Event or thing
He points
As a despondent relic
That must be remembered
Faintly

His hand
The veins asunder
The terror of leaving beauty
Lost in the madness
That collects
Arrant forgetfulness

A man lifts his voice
Clashing with the impossible
His thoughts already of cinder
Mist and silence

A poem remains
Obscurely reposing in the cupped
Hands of the transitory
One of many inanities of inspiration
At moments gaining strength
But ultimately to rest alongside the expended

There with the elapsing sum of experience