Walking down this busy street
Passing people I will never meet
I wonder how it got to this point
A time where I can have so much
And yet feel so alone

If I look back
Was it all my fault
That I am and have always been
On the the edge of everything I’ve seen

It started the day I was born
When that woman from whose body I was torn
Decided I wasn’t for her
And since that day I have wondered looking
for her again
In every woman I ever known
I have looked to be loved for that very first unconditional time

Perhaps in a way I am drawn to her because she too was cast aside by one who should have loved
in that echo I hear my own voice as well as hers
And in that two note chord there lies
the start of a song we both can sing

Who am i
Before i was born
What was i doing
In the mysteries of the unknown
Do i have a name
Where do i call my home
Did i say goodbye
Before i was gave birth by my mom.
Why did i chose my parents.
Who carried me first,
Who cleaned me up,
Who wiped my first tears
Who were my first friend
Why do i have to be in haste
Why do i have to die
Where are you taking me to
Am i going home ?

braided by burdens
hidden from the wandering sun
my cage was bronze, my voice frozen
only could stretch once i was
unbolted, unjolted, of all these poisons
soaking into my psyche at every moment
altering the shade of joy, door left open
reruns from the demons, another opponent
the drink so potent, my ego stolen
a wordy poet silenced to biological atonement

These are my modern English translations of ancient Greek poems and epigrams by Sophocles, including antinatalist poems and epigrams.

It’s a hundred times better not be born;
but if we cannot avoid the light,
the path of least harm is swiftly to return
to death’s eternal night!
Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), Oedipus at Colonus, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Not to have been born is best,
and blessed
beyond the ability of words to express.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Never to be born may be the biggest boon of all.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Oblivion: What a boon, to lie unbound by pain!
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

How happy the soul who speeds back to the Source,
but crowned with peace is the one who never came.
—a Sophoclean passage from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The happiest life is one empty of thought.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Consider no man happy till he lies dead, free of pain at last.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

What is worse than death? When death is desired but denied.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

When a man endures nothing but endless miseries, what's the use of hanging on day after day,
edging closer and closer toward death? Anyone who warms his heart with the false glow of flickering hope is a wretch! The noble man should live with honor and die with honor. That's all that can be said.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Children anchor their mothers to life.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

How terrible, to see the truth when the truth brings only pain to the seer!
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Wisdom outweighs all the world's wealth.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Fortune never favors the faint-hearted.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Wait for evening to appreciate the day's splendor.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

We need evening to appreciate the day's attractions.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Evening helps us appreciate the day's attractions.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Since time dawned
only the dead have experienced peace;
life is snow burning in the sun.
—Nandai, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Keywords/Tags: Sophocles, Greek, translation, translations, English, antinatalist, antinatalism, procreation, contraception, contraceptive, birth, born, death, life and death, day, eve, evening, night, fortune, wisdom, wealth, truth, pain, mother, mothers, mother and child, children

now is just a thing
we do between birth and death
i am among gods

A thin and somewhat wavering cry
echoed in the banshee breeze
as she beat upon our door with frozen fingers
heralding your birth, you child of storms
a winter babe
the fallen leaf forever restless as he grew
a wailing wind inside to blow you onward
that much is true

Twas wee hours of the morning,
'course she'd come early
she's always been a morning person
yet I never was

so we ushered the morning
in throes of pain and tears
shouts and crying
some of joy, some fear

But as she breathed her first
I found love
and as little hands lay on my chest
I thought,
maybe this morning wasn't so bad

21/11/3

the grass on the hill
speaks nothing until
our ears open with age
and the demons dark will
loses meaning

the soft melody
of piece sends a thrill
to the harbor of will
and causes a self
into being

action a skill learned
from birth to grave
we pay not attention
to continous pain
and we travel

~
gone to earth

left for dead

everything is tickety-boo

forget your iron-on measures

and scuttled installation

your life is a bakery

that cake is like your head

bittersweet

and full of regret

what am I reading these days?

a book across the stars

where dreams in the throes

of giddy aerosol cans

**** the passersby

and sleep against

the exit sign
~

A running stream of consciousness
flows into the meadows
The bright and green made brightest by the sun
Blooms, flowers, bushes and bugs exist together here

When the large hand Death comes
With its dirt, dry fingers twists the stream of the spout off shut

Goodbye to the freshly flowing water, and blooms and flowers
bushes and the bugs
Sweet dreams to sweet consciousness
Forever and always