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Ces Dec 2020
A tyrannical itch
That is never satisfied
The skin, broken
Smudges of blood
The rugged epidermis

A need that isn't supposed to be there
A soul-crushing phantom
An obsession with the computer screen
For the likes, the applause
For significance.

Like a drug-induced falsity
False euphoria
The itch grows unbearable
But mind-numbingly pleasant.

Such is the nature of attention-seeking
And toxic social media.
Ces Oct 2021
Life's meaning is a number: 42
For the universe won't care about me and you
It's up to us to seek out what's true
Or, remain in silent despair
Like some people do.

Deep Thought has proclaimed:
"Existence means the number 42"
Absurd, odd, unacceptable
Some might vehemently argue

But Deep Thought was right
And we still have no clue
For the reason why you're here
Is really up to you.
Deep Thought is a super-intelligent computer from the novel "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy."
Ces Sep 2020
An ethereal and spiritual atmosphere
A presence that cannot be seen
but felt by a heart full of yearning
Music devoid of rhythm and consonance
That seeps into the deepest crevices
of a mind that longs for the infinite
Such an enchanting melody that permeates
the room. A dreamworld opened up
by nothing but the artful arrangement
of sound.
Ces Sep 2020
Why bother?

It can be longer or shorter.

It doesn't matter.

A poem is a mirror
Reflecting someone's heart.
Ces Jul 2020
The brightness
of the morning sky
pierces my eyes
birds gladly chirping
in merry exultation
a distant radio blabbers
hunkering for someone's
valuable attention...

The leaves appear to me
as lovely emeralds --
a beautiful, greenish hue
the trees sway monotonously
as if compelled
in a steady dance
absentee music:

I am aware.
Ces Dec 2020
Long, flowing black hair
Dyed strands glistening atop
A delicate scalp
Eyes that bewitch
Adorned with bristly eyelashes
Surgical precision had shaped
A perfectly chiseled nose
Lips that captivate:
Red as wine.

Such is the image
Of a soon-to-be corpse
Happily engaging
In an elaborate fakery.
Ces Sep 2020
The shape of a smile emerges
and the heart grows light
There is no need for applause
Nor praises
In this moment
I'm alive.

Such is the power of art
Its ability to set free
The long-suppressed yearnings
Of the grieving heart
In this melodious
Free art poetry moment
Ces Aug 2023
desire and fear
passion and abomination
intertwined -- such is the chaos
smothering my mind

the throes of terror
and sickly melancholy
torment me...

haunting and creeping
the only reality
in this stillness

I am a goodness without its wings
I am evil without its fangs

To myself
I'm an enigma
Ces Sep 2020
A tight, hot knot
strangles my insides
Constricting my chest
crushing my heart
until it shatters...

"Not good enough"

Such thought, accursed!
A loop of torment
Placed by the devil
Inside my head.

When will this self-flagellation
come to a halt?
Ces Jul 2020
My head hurts
and my mind a seething mass
of garbled words, premature thoughts
a zombie lumbering aimlessly
through this reality...?
or is this even real?

What is real?

Who am I?

Am I just a specter?
have I stared too much at that yawning void?
Have I read too much Nietszche?
So much...

That the morning coffee
gets cold..

as I stare at it.

As I try to make sense of
this crazy world
that only exists in my head.
Ces Sep 2020
The optimist's naivete
is his fuel for living
I dare say relinquish such notions
of fairylands and Peter Pans
For the negative has truth
in itself
and there is beauty still
in a world of cruelty.
Ces Sep 2020
I force a smile to
Regain a sense of normality
Curled lips that
Mask the rawness
Of this aching

No longer am I enamored
With lovely, naive fantasies:
This blank stare into the abyss
Born out of revolt
Against the lie
That happiness is everyone's
Lot in life.

Fortune is a whimsical god
And living is an unpredictable
Farce between birth and death
Such randomness,  brutality
Victimizes those born
Of sound body
But with a fragile mind
And a crumbling sanity.

Reflections of gloom
Are all that keeps me company
This unbearable pessimism
In this tiny room
Yet I cannot stop my inquiries:
My explorations of truth
No matter how wretched it might be
At its very root.
Ces Jul 2020
Inside me is
a quiet murmur
a steady mental rut
an unceasing

Continuously permeating
filling empty cavities
with tension,

This is a vague description
of this qualia:
my consciousness
in the present
Ces Sep 2020
Oblate spheroidal
Mass of rock
A being that sprang
From the void, with others
A dull speck in the blackness
Of space.

A lone island of azure skies
Verdant plains and mountains
An atmosphere dominated
By nitrogen
A haven of self-organizing
Critters, bacteria
And its oceans: the primal womb.

So precious, yet so fragile
A mote suspended
In a starry backdrop
Rotating its way towards
Its predestined fate.

Such beauty is our home
A lonely traveler
Lost in the wastelands
Of space and time.
Ces Jul 2020
We love our freedoms so much
we fight for it
protest for it
**** for it
die for it

And suddenly, we forget it

This is when one ceases to be an individual
And when the world becomes one-sided
the mind utterly uncritical

This talk of freedom?
Mere babble

Ces Dec 2020
Life passes by
Moment by moment
Each minute a grain of sand
In a ceaseless flow inside
This biological hourglass

Time has this peculiarity:
This irreversible absurdity

That to crave for more time
Becomes one's slow undoing
Sagging skin, unsightly wrinkles
Bones turn brittle, breaking
Muscles ****** out of their strength
Eyes failing, perpetual darkness
And the self succumbs to the lull
Of oblivion
The mind: no longer, extinguished
What's left is a husk of what once was
A human being.

Hope then becomes a beacon, a torch
In the middle of a starless night
A burning, warm sense of certainty
Hope, or that stubborn illusion
That happiness is one's lot in life

But time silently persists
Eroding foundations, narratives
Dismantling falsity
Uprooting grand, elaborate conceits
Blind and merciless
Uncaring towards puny human desires
Hope's demise.

Life: a futile struggle against time.

To what end?
Ces Jul 2020
Socrates drunk the hemlock
And for once, death has lost its power
to intimidate, enslave
mortality transcended...

Admiration for the brave
the courageous amongst us
Truly, there is more to life
than food

and *****

Those who live earnestly
are the ones who look inside themselves
proclaiming with great ferocity:

The unexamined life is not worth living!
Ces Dec 2020
A stale and bitter saliva
Dried and cracked lips
And an aching stomach
Yearning for heavenly manna
Or even just the closest
Ces Sep 2020
I stare into the painted walls
and toys encased in glass
this room: a nest for
my existence
of 30 years

I take a deep breath
this merciless pungency
assaults my olfaction
the smell of growing molds
the ceaseless battering of time
I've breathed my existence
for 30 years
in this room

And in a snap
My delirium stopped!
The haze cleared
to this thought:
I am getting old.
Ces Jul 2020
Paralysis by analysis
overthinking life and all
its complexities...

I think:

Truth, what is it?
When everyone feels as if they
and feel
even ****
in the name of this 'Truth'

I ask why...

What's the basis for that certainty
Is it something born through analogy?
I see that we are all mistaken, guilty
Of that condescension!



The irony of this age of technological
is that it has become fancy
to crave disinformation

Truth is what we think we possess
in this great idiocy of the masses.
Ces Sep 2020
A jumble of words I cannot utter
For their incoherence
I consciously mumble to myself
Struggling to put into writing
The garbled mess of my mind:

Filled with images
Of discarded tires and umbrellas
Of sandwiches and old socks
Withered flowers I bought
For no one in particular
The street where I live
The unbearable sadness of
Losing a dime
My self-referential musings
Of time loops and black holes

All nonsense...

Reality is now this gooey
And icky, unrecognizable
Ces Sep 2020
Thoughts buzzing
like mad gnats...
My head: a battlefield
A swordfight of words
from people living
and dead.

The carnage
is contained and hidden
in this pretentious smile
a demeanor perfected
by repetition...

Yet, inside
Peace gasps for air
for another moment of life
dying from a thousand wounds
from self-doubt
Ces Dec 2020
A muffled scream
Threatens to break loose
Running away from this fear
Of not being good enough
Ces Dec 2020
Sweaty armpits and rubbery legs
Labored breathing, one more step
My mind aching for a destination
There is none
Nothing but internal babblings
And an afternoon run.
Ces Sep 2020


Ces Aug 2020
The sensation of one's vitality
is the doorway to a deeper understanding
of exquisite inner joys
and the tranquility of being.
Ces Sep 2020
A ceaseless motion
hither and yonder
like the jumbling of blind ants
in a narrow path
of wet pheromones.

Backbreaking labor
A cruel slaver
lashing his whip
that cracks painfully
drawing blood from the back
of the hapless wretch.

A joke that amuses no one
An insufferable itch
demanding to be scratched
so hard that it bleeds

Then in a moment

Asphyxiated and forgotten.
Ces Oct 2021
Grayish skies of silent mourning
Clouds of regret, ennui, silence
Wandering aimlessly

A trickle, and another...

A raindrop

Then a tear...

The skies mirror
my loneliness.
Ces Sep 2020
Those bewitching eyes
Glinting like stars
In a world of dreams
Those plump cheeks that invite
The gentlest of kisses
And your lips seem to me
As little fountains
Of perpetual euphoria

You say you lack beauty
And your worth is nil
Oh! How I prayed to the gods
That they take away my eyes
And give them to you.

That you may behold
Such magnificence
That roused in me
This intense longing
For your caresses
Your touch.

Such burning desire
That can only be quenched
By your comforting
Ces Jun 2021
Magic oftentimes
Come from the sickest minds

And poetry

Born from the aches
Of loneliness


And make some lemonades
Out of the aridity
Of this life.
Ces Sep 2020
I am a frozen brick
In this cold, dark room
Hunched and aching
As I flip the virtual pages
Of an e-book.

I am in full defiance of sleep
Waging a bitter war against somnolence
For just one more page.
Ces Jul 2020
A sensation of bubbling excitement
washes over my body
emanating from this tightness
in my chest:
a feeling of gentle happiness
butterflies inside me...

A mood born from a good breakfast.
Ces Sep 2020
Eyes drooping as the battle
Against somnolence
Rages on
Like a bloodied
And battered swordsman
I stand and resist
I keep myself awake
Fighting an unceasing lull
From a tireless foe
Ever sly and persistent
Eager to drag me in a world
Of dreams and phantasms.

But as the night goes on
My resolve dissolves
Like melting chocolate
Under a merciless sun
Thus, I slowly drift
In a tranquilizing

As I close my eyes
I am no more.
Ces Jul 2020
A sudden question arose
perplexing in its simplicity:

"When did I stop listening?"

How did the music fade?
How did the melodies inside my heart

Innocence is a fleeting thing
Like tunes and notes...
the soothing caresses of the wind
on a quiet spring

My heart is craving for answers
Oh, this inquiry that rattles my mind:

When did I stop being
a child?
Ces Mar 2021
The desire for belonging,
The need to run away from isolation
The origins of insensitivity

This is the mentality of the bully

What is normal is confused with
Desirability, goodness
Herein is the soul
Of the tyrant.
Ces Dec 2020
An empty blank
Trapped in a limbo
Black and white

Perplexed within
A nameless, static mood
My mind grasps a contradiction

Ces Jul 2020
Emotions can be:

little magical sprites fluttering
inside your heart
caressing the deepest recesses
of your soul
gently giving you that "high"
inside you springs
a boundless utopia


They can be devious tricksters
gremlins, the vilest of
these little devils
torturing you
pricking you with a thousand needles
of sadness
the lowest forms
of loneliness.

Inside us dwells
the eternal Yin and Yang

We may be walking contradictions
irresolvable paradoxes
toyed by the whims of unseen forces
barraged by these mysterious
sensations, feelings

and yet,

Such confusion is what makes us
Ces Jul 2020
I am a poet
And the ether is my pen
A digitized mind.
Ces Sep 2020
The deadline monsters
Kept pounding on the door of my consciousness
Their frantic, banging fists
Threaten to reduce me
to a paralytic heap
of nothing but flesh and bones
I can hear the horrible noises
of splintering wood
Fractured humerus
The unnerving thwack
of a body
As it flung itself against
my defenses.

And yet I sit here
Serene, unperturbed
A posture of sheer pretentiousness
Ignoring the violent growls
of the monsters
In my head.

With glazed eyes
And absent-minded numbness
I watch Neflix.
Ces Aug 2020
Sleep has fled me
As I sink in this monotonous
Flow of thoughts
The quiet night, a witness
To this perpetual

What is it that I must do?
What is it that I must be?
Confusion morphs
To this mysterious

And my soul finds no rest

in silence...
Ces Aug 2023
the depths of my longing
is sealed in silence
and a cheerful smile

a smile that feels real
and a rubbery fake
at the same time

and yet...

it is precious,

for a lying smile is a lifeline
and the truth is suicide

I envy those who have nothing to hide.
Ces Jul 2020
Mundane concerns stifle
the soul that hungers for the infinite
Practicality subverts the mind
as it questions and wrestles with
this existential enigma...

Bound by the curse of productivity
and the insatiable drive for accumulation
Libidinal, perverse thoughts
drive the working man

to this, to that...

he is a puppet pulled by invisible strings:
the corporate, bureaucratic masters
calling the shots
laughing control freaks...
the world is theirs for the taking
and the worker-slave raises his hands
a sense of triumph
as the crumbs fall down

We live in a Kafkaesque era
merrily languishing
in this willful dementia.
Ces Sep 2020
Forlornness that wraps the core of my being
Still, relished by a heart that aches to write
Alone, in subdued pain, but accepting
I feel my body and all its agonies
Never wanting this moment to end
In spite of it all, a gentle smile
I find solace in every breath
And in this tender loneliness.
Ces Sep 2020
The Facebook zombie
Distorts its face:
Contorted, convulsing
A spasmodic smile.

Ignoring internal scars
Emotional wretchedness
Faking with gusto
What the good life is.

The Facebook zombie
Hunkers not for brains
But drools for likes
And virtual applause.

Like dazzling neon lights
Its ego shines bright
"I am the best"
"I am number one"
Says the connoisseur
Of filters and fakes!

The Facebook zombie lumbers
Towards the next bite
The next hit
Mindlessly raising its
Bony hands
As the camera sways
Finding the perfect angle.
Ces Jul 2020
Arched back
aching knees
pinpricks in my right leg
a thousand questions
running in my head
as I navigate this vast
of the Internet

A world where ideas

and where people lose
Ces Dec 2020
Like God, ever sought
Elusive, enigmatic
A puzzle of a million pieces
Or maybe, just maybe
A figment of imagination
Ah! The sorry plight of a human being
Always in constant need
Of meaning.
Ces Jul 2020
Pondering existence itself:
mere deadweight for "success"
this narrative of the times
must be upheld as sacred

The religion of modernity is that
of willful blindness taken
as a virtue

or so we are led to believe:

that it is the mark of a healthy man
to never use his brain!
Ces Sep 2020
The tiny red ant scampers
In a forest of greenish mold
Its bristly legs carrying
Biological modules:
A head with pincers
An imperceptible thorax
A swelling abdomen.

It has nothing but a laborious drive
A pheromone-induced servility
For the queen: the lazy, bloated tyrant!
The sole purpose being
The laying of eggs.

The noble red ant
Moves on to scavenge
Blind and dumb

To the ruthless cycle
Of its existence.
Ces Jul 2020
But, there is truth.

the whisper of a thousand years
of searching
about what reality is
what living really means.

There is courage
the audacity of the human spirit
all the losses and triumphs
the sheer strength of the human character
born from time's passage.

There is freedom
gained by embracing the challenge
of living
the simple choice of
existence over nonexistence
Such freedom is indeed sweet
if it is an act of conscience.

So choose to live
without hope

But with pride.
Ces Jul 2020
A relapse into forgetfulness
Time never loses its deceptiveness

The tragic seeking of something
that is not lost
I found myself again through

My heart smiles
as I write.
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