"nihility" poems
I’m sick of all these love songs
Written about another
Sonnets and odysseys
Desperate for a Lover
I want to enjoy the silence
Nihility subdue
Equally alone
As I am with you
I try to reflect Compassion
A metric of good health
Psuedo-neo Truism
Learn to “Love Thy Self”
May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 10:20 AM UTC
Intrusive thoughts
Enamoring fiend
Amidst an enchanting euphoric rapture
my apotheosis complex washes away
like knives to my throat
in a deluge of familiar burning healing
How I crave to abdicate Self
Oh unrelinquishing,
(r)
e lusive Soul;
(c)
Abandoning me to languish
In this castigating material existence
Slowly
feeling
My faith wavering
Withering
to the point
of nihility
Layer by layer
Shed my illusions
Shatter my Ego
So maybe I'll realize
Real enlightenment
Because I stopped caring for humanity ages ago.
If misery loves company
How can even I feel lonely
Alone to my thoughts
In a crowd of my peers?
Just keep up appearances ;)
You all look so oblivious with boxes over your heads...
Obscurely I yearn to be lucid
But instead am welcomed
by livid disdain
I just want to watch the world burn
An inferno; more ****** to churn
for my every advance she spurned
don't object my grotesque romance
or squander it in a moment of happenstance;
rather, project a mental image by perchance
Of me pursuing an remembrance
of the past,
in the present; instead of looking forward
to the pen I wield in hand;
Dubiously proclaimed mightier than the sword
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
a pale night
two more estranged
in the passing of time forgotten
promises mistimed
and eternity can end in an instant
a sudden death to tumors long malignant
(let us remember the error of our ways,
the taste of blood when suckling an open wound)
it's new nihility embodied
and shortness of breath
when looking at night's pearl eye
drown out in stillness
double-time, my heart
frantic, my lungs
so beautiful and toxic
our morning flower dies
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 5:12 PM UTC
Everything is happening so quickly
so many negatives surpassing the
insignificant glimpse of positives
that never seem to suffice,
there’s always this light at the
end of the tunnel that everyone
speaks of, yet i continue to see darkness;
a journey down this long tunnel brings
no illumination but only a continuance
of nihility, the damp walls
seem to bring the chill humidity
closer and closer with each step,
the droplets echo the narrowing,
flickering lights dissipate at passing,
the gag sparking stench of sewage
and ***** make the voyage to
light even more unbearable than the
previous hesitant inching towards
the so called spoken about bearability of life,
sudden scintillations of light bring sight
of russet, worn doors, consecutively placed,
discoloured of crimson roadkill,
I open the first door and see a woman
tied and bound, gag in throat,
beads of sweat turning the white gag
to watered milk,
the dirt beneath her nails entwines with skin
and blood dredged by her own fingertips,
to front is a tray of what seems like
torture tools
*intrigued, I slam the door
and avoid a kiss
from Judas*
The next door, I open and see a man
sitting facing the corner,
wrapped in a flickering fan,
staring at a wall of carvings of ticks and dashes,
to see arms of cuts and gashes,
with a tray next to him
comprised of razors and knives
he sits picking at skin of bruises and hives,
tempted to grab the tool and corrode self,
with the reflection of whats within, I slam the door
and avoid
Finally the third door
eagerly stares to
me with anticipation boiling veins,
I press my ear to foreshadow,
I hear a cries; a man of hatred
and a woman of pain
I open the door and find a bottle of whiskey
I take a swig and feel as if Judas kissed me,
Within the third door; walls
with peepholes to confirm the calls
on the left I see the sliding knife
over-panting roadmaps of russet to
the neck of the bound woman,
the screams are deafening,
they present a vibration,
stuttering thoughts, and releasing the fixation,
prompting the admiration
to view the second door,
I see myself, in door 2
tremors and convulsions
seeing blood expel every vein
as the verticals
halt oxygen to the brain
Departure brings me
to the abysmal realm of society
where the burden of negativity
proves to provide no proof towards what
differs between the endless, narrow
tunnel-visioned cesspool of bone marrow
and psychosis driven visions and the
narrow pathed voyage of life.
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC
The gallows swing in my gown
how my grievous allure
axiom, snares me down
an appellative of harrowing quintessence
wearing lilies like an aureole
-crowned in by anemone and asphodel
the paraded gait of my soul
absence of faithful apparitions
cogent til their demise by my own dolor
nihility is my dear conviction
to dwell on dreamless sleep once more
alas lucidity comes abrupt
falsehoods pellucid in the eyes of divinity
tainted now i cite apprehension
bear garlands of wormwood, for i am corrupt
still gallows shall swing in my gown
whether in repose or in waking
the gallows swing in my gown
in knots the Styx shall be waiting.
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 10:04 PM UTC
ramblings of my craziness ~
its 1 : 28am and am walking in circles in my room with my lights switched off
the thoughts in my head are at light speed hitting me in the reversing direction in the back of my skull
silence finally speaks to me
such is the ambiance right now
cold and coarse outside
my feet are going numb because of this winter night
i can even hear the buzzing sound of nihility
echoing now
its overwhelming feeling all together
the feelings between my lungs are in havoc like a thousand supernovas at mayhem , detonating....
i just don't feel myself right now
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC
-
*And it wasn’t nearly reality enough,
So I skimmed this water of bone
Hoping that the blood beneath
my fingers would only be temporary.
But you can’t promise on broken love,
Could you believe me when I say I’ve known.
Lie behind your cheap lips and teeth
Cross your heart and hope to die yet on the contrary.
Your empty threats of wishing to **** me,
But darling I’m already dead.
You can hope on deeds of darkness but not anymore,
It’s such a shame a poet must draw her scythe.
So take a deep breath dear, inhale slowly,
And don’t worry there’s nothing wrong with just a taste instead.
I can’t help but smile as the ashes flood the floor,
Such a beautiful way to die, letting a poet take your life.
Tonight she sleeps with the lions and like before,
Dark as it may be she laughs when one offers her light.
“I sleep with demons roaming my skin,”
“Beg your pardon I don’t need this pity.”
And the truth was not a sin, she really had to pay for.
A century of this and that really left without a fight.
I haven’t decided on which degree of hate I let out and in,
But tell you what I digress this country and this rotten city.
Mistake me for a witch, and how many friends will I lose?
I can hardly tell with all this nihility I now hold dear to me.
Keeping words on chains, imprison me why not.
A bucket of silver is all I hold in my eyes.
And keep the hounds in hell dear,
Just let me say you are quite lovely,
What can you teach me, what have you taught?
Beware of the silver in the bucket child...*
Beware the poets eyes.
-
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 5:31 PM UTC
And in the grasp of
the moon’s tight fist
I thought you looked like an angel,
like Gabriel—
an Archangel.
I thought that should the
sun come up in a few hours
that you would perhaps fade away
into nihility—
into stardust.
I thought you were the
most beautiful thing I’d ever seen
and I thought that you weren’t even real;
completely artificial—
a mannequin.
You looked so childish in your
sleep and oh how I longed to
push aside those stray
golden locks—
your halo.
But like a Seraph—
you burn.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 11:59 PM UTC
in the name
of god
i was
demonized.
i bled tears
from lashes
of the
outrage of
my mother
who recited
verses
when i was
buttered.
my cries
echoed
in the
hollow walls
of my
father's
beating heart
as he
uttered
blasphemous
monologue.
it was not
sin
i was
absolved of,
but rather
of love
that i
desperately
needed.
May 24, 2024
May 24, 2024 at 8:24 PM UTC
*Ignore the mind
Too difficult
To confide
Too much
Story telling
Misguided intention
An age old conviction
Too ill intended
Pitiful thoughts
Plentiful lost
Death toll enthralled
Each skill was killed
No depth
Nor sound
No gold
All sold
Now
They're teasing me
I've lost space
Came in last place
Everything stolen
I'm feeling squeezed
I'm losing it
Mistook it for empathy
It kept misusing me
The sweetest of symphonies
The smell of fresh failure
Everything freshly faked
What a Life
A piece of cake
Nothing decisive
Existence is strife
Collecting undeserving data
Nihility is unadulteration
The purest form of freedom
No water for family trees
No soil for plants or seeds
Too much abused energy
To be is transient
Evoking unfulfillment
Provokingly altering
All reality conflicting
A deep sea of dreams
Why be?
When being
Always falls
... ... ...
Short
... ... ...
A poem for me?
Why me?
I'm not one to be*
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 10:41 PM UTC
But these Eyes which fall on words inevitably unwritten,
Resonates absurdity's fingertips,
A delayed abomination,
Dancing with harlequins in their ring of retribution,
sing out with a poet’s mocking:
‘Fear your mistress/fear your maiden,
Decorated in her daisy chain of souls,
And silver to her bones from stone cold matinees’,
With Carnal thirst for the cruel phantoms
Who patrol like clockwork within a cell patterned cathedral,
Chanting monologues pairing their patience with promise,
In Shadows behind the collar they hide,
With convulsive voices knotting the synapses like shoelace,
This Fruitless curiosity meets with defeat,
The divine torture of invisibility argued with nihility,
Running blood of a guardian and a watcher's ghost,
With whom do they divulge their surrender to?
An anonymous force or a non-existent one?
Maybe they refute the toxic plains of prayer,
Maybe it is their duty to be timekeepers not lovers,
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC
Lita's ice blue eyes peer into my soul
as my fingers strum along an acoustic guitar.
Cautiously, I match its rhythm with the beat of
her heart -- swiftly then slowly, until the harmonious
chords filling the atmosphere still the rapid
vibrations of my own heart and the silk strings
beneath my fingers slip into her enigmatic allure.
"Wounds heal over time," I say to no avail.
Each empty note immerses into her pool
of toxic thoughts. My eyes become lost
in the nihility of her eyes as her lips form
an unconvincing smile that quickly fades.
To soothe her internal pain, I strum away.
My guitar and Lita are the same --
hollow.
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 3:31 PM UTC
My longing for knowledge
is quelled by belief that
knowing nothing is
infinitely more freeing
than knowing it all.
Faith in blissful ignorance,
God is an endless abyss
and we are all teetering
on the pungent brimstone,
praying for a gust of wind.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 4:28 PM UTC
I lay on the floor in my room
and stare up at the ceiling fan,
I try to figure out who I am,
Who is this lost young man?
I live a life with no direction or conviction,
Only the demons of my own affliction,
My own self-loathing married my self-doubt
And let loose my darker half,
Dragging my mind into the darkness,
Imprisoning me in the mistakes of my past,
And so I don't know what to do
To escape my prison and move on,
How do I move forward
When everything I do is wrong?
Purpose has eluded me,
Confidence has fled,
My will deminishes,
My heart almost dead.
In all the ways I can imagine
In all the ways I can see
I'm lost inside the darkness
A place of nihility,
A void,
An emptiness,
A lethe within me,
My oblivion sea.
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 9:35 PM UTC
Nihility
The place where all but anything occurs.
Where order and disorder have no meaning.
Where dreams are chased but left unattended.
Where solace is never found, and with all the right reasons.
Where pride is hindered, hurt and paraded with hate.
Nihility
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 9:58 AM UTC
An uncanny and unfamiliar view: the sun gazing over the Sperrins.
Light granted sight and in the
smarting, sticky glow of day the range seemed endless.
Every peak,
protruding from plate like
vertebrae of the obscene Oilliphéist, aspired to pierce the clouds (had there been any) and
swelling like the ego of that Boeotian hunter, set Olympus and Rheasilvia to blushes.
An omnidirectional parsec of perpetual nihility that,
swallowing the senses,
renders proprioception void.
Everything suspended for a second or century under the watch of that inert sentinel, whose
magnitude mirrored the Cosmic Turtle.
Say some stray tenant of Mountsandel
had wandered through these ancient fields and looked, as I do, upon the eminence of this glen;
From now til then, this Precambrian master had aged but a second.
Words are feeble against this primordial Schist and cannot hope to evoke it.
But all perceived as hard then shifts; I see the hulk in its youth suffering
the divorce of Rodinia; drifting further from its peers – drowning.
Even now the car traced the scar carved in the little pinnacle.
Granted, it bore us tourists stoically on
Granite too pure for poetry.
Yet still I see, as clear as Sawel, the young stone struggling to breathe the noxious air;
Freezing and thawing with the trends of the earth and
Bearing it all alone.
No wonder it had become catatonic.
How fitting, that every traveller on their
commute between the Pillars of the North,
should be forced to stare
Eden
in the eyes and acknowledge
where
earth began.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 6:20 PM UTC
Memories like broken glass
fill my heart my sensible soul
shards of you
remain
Tattering this perspective
Leaving a broken person
behind these eyes
This Kerouac perception
mounted on confusion
for feelings left
undisclosed
Baffling me like a child
Thunder and rain my
only solace
dark clouds my psyche
mutually bound
Like hurricane Galveston
ripping apart these thoughts these transgressions
mortally comforting
like cigarettes on Sunday
reaching forth
grasping at straws so they say
they always say
but do they feel as I've felt?
alone & tempered
as glass
the glum periphery engulfing
melting me down eating away
into a pool of nihility
to harden to break these chains
feels outdated unscripted nonsense
in the background of my memories souvenirs
a setpiece based on untruths
created
into
this
sheer crystalline matter
They call
Glass
Jun 29, 2020
Jun 29, 2020 at 6:41 AM UTC
Cradled by there eyes
as they convulsed me
in to oblivion,
with every downfall I was
closer to
nihility.
Pools of crimson collected in
my fractured sockets and
my tears
drowned within.
They mourned my silence,
inscribing one last syllable
upon my stomach...
As blood flourished forward from
my dead lips.
Droplets were like rain descending,
as I painted the surrounding
with death.
They were covered also,
for they were close to the cradle
when it fell silent.
I kissed each one with claret,
my mark was upon there façade.
Wild flowers drank upon me,
seeding them with my last breath.
Where beauty once flourished,
Now blushed roses grow.
I'm a garden of remembrance
to what was,
what never shall be.
But my death has sweet aromas to it,
for all one at a time came to see
What had befallen me.
Guilt, remorse or curiosity..
To hide a truth, others may fall upon.
But where they expected death,
they saw,
a sight of maroon beauty.
"*Curiosity is a live wire in water,
with a please read note floating
above it*.
"*You know there going to read it,
And with that, they picked a rose pricking
there finger upon my vengeance.
I could taste my aura that I kissed upon
there last actions
so long ago.
There was no scream, just like you can't hear
a tree fall in a silent forest.
I now feed upon them, for there all here, in
my garden of eternity rotting slowly..
But there still alive under the surface..
my thorns negating there vocals.
I'm there cradle and I'm rocking it,
oh so slowly...
Mar 5, 2020
Mar 5, 2020 at 8:25 AM UTC
Five years from my end of days and, shall there,
Does a verse go on tell me—was it beautiful
Like breaking windows, battered wind chimes?
I groaned to hear when history cried
That hum in Death, the silent ode, a sallow sound
Made, was your time, to sole destroy,
But, I promised your parade I would not shake
My fist to the sky—for somewhere, you would be.
Yes, absolving dreams—committing them to fade
But, yes, they fell like the snow: all around—
In the present, the past comes ‘round—ah!
My suffering is ever turning, the edges running raw.
But, I promised, I would forget—your only wish
Was n’er to be a memory, never to use apologies as
Laurels for my victory—I can’t be happy alone.
I wrote this for you some years before, long before
We were children, long before both we were born.
You danced like light, effervesced in contradiction
A love that was you-I and a bead restful in my hand
We suffered separation ‘till life, and bore flesh along.
Five years from my end of days, gold can’t travel
Nor chameleon, needless to say I knew this was one
Our parent from thence I came, to you, to me, i-you returns,
Last one last thing in darkness burns: I to see recurrently
I knew before we were ever born, all those years ago,
A dazzling iteration of extinct, mellifluous joy, that
Though on pyrrhic terms is all in all a mystery,
When five days pass we will be each other, I sleep up
And set my lips for nihility and awe, kissing at the azure bare
To float as a dream to your stars that constellate there.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 4:43 PM UTC
We are in a abundance of fluidic obscurity.
Tidal forces collect the stones of creation
weaving them upon the shores
of static boulders.
Melodic in there rhythmic causality.
Caught in the gravitational flow
within the onyx oceans of forever.
There are ripples in the static, migrating.
Luminous moments breath below
the murkiness stirring life.
Where a crest of nihility
washes many away, but life lingers.
Like fireflies they perforate the tides
of eternity, breathing for moments
before expelling there beauty,
to once again create elegance in a sea of darkness.
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 11:08 AM UTC
we spoke softly
on this rainy morning
in a sterile hospital
room,
both wounded
by blood soul
and lymphocytes
not friendly fire,
a soft knock at the door
the physician entered
gallantly - smiling
and shook both
of our hands
with confidence
he provided his forecast,
we were stunned
by the revolver
with the
cocked hammer
and everything
that once was ordinary
and permanent,
was abruptly transient
and detached
we clutched our
sweaty hands
into nihility
staring at the slugs
in the cylinder
of love and life
only one pull away
from the white tunnel
and the darkness
near or far-off
she and I
into this
till the end
of our
days.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC
Another night of overthinking,
unable to sleep with all the sinking
into the darkness fuelled thoughts that cloud my mind -
the mistakes of the past I cannot leave behind.
Another morning of oversleeping - so free,
desperate for the temporary state of nihility,
wanting to remain safe from the world around me,
just call me a reality escapee.
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
One step closer to insanity,
One step closer to pain;
One step fuelled by gravity,
In an effort to live again.
Branded by authority
In an effort to justify the cause;
Reconciling with telemetry
To re-dignify what's been
put on pause.
I am a
Living nihility,
Anti-reality,
Illusory spectrum
Of somebody's dream;
To contend with that aspect,
I've maintained some respect
Among the fluidity stream;
Barring the pieces
That don't fall together,
In an effort to silence the lot,
Wherever the weather
In stormy-wind tethers,
Intrinsic of what's been forgot.
One step closer to Humanity,
One step closer to The Grain;
When one finally plants the seeds,
They will be able to live again.
---------------------------------------
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 7:53 AM UTC
within us lies something so resplendent that it appears
void, an endless nihility, from which your singularity is grown
We all know the trope of nothing becoming something, a crane lamenting to the orbs above, flowers opening with the fall.
You've seen the time lapses, you know the spin around us. Yet nothing could be farther from our reality. We weren't built to be nothing, we weren't built from nothing. Lachesis draws for us, but her luck is strong. There isn't reason to believe otherwise.
Enveloping our corporeal flesh, resolving away our dissolve, filling us up from the outside and pooling into the hollows of our eyelids, we forget to find wisdom in emptiness
Lost inside the flow of time, hands outstretched, fingers melting through our friends, our parents, our lovers, the human population revolves around revolutions, anchored in place by only the weakest force in the universe
Held down by the stuff that composes planets, moons, stars, all pointless to us
The only thing that matters lays at our feet, trod upon day and night, it lays in our chests, wrenched from our chests, lays at our feet, and is trampled.
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 2:55 PM UTC
Sundering into nihility
Undecided if I should
I think it's for the best
Can't go on
I think it's for the best
Don't give up
Eventually, it will get better.
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 1:10 PM UTC