[…]
You said,
I couldn’t care any less.
What’s more, that is not your best.
Last time I checked, you weren’t holding back.
You could see what was coming next.
Who knew I’d love you—when you fought back?
I said, “If you say so…”
The Odd One Out*
Fear not the poet.
What’s the most they can do with a pen?
They can cheer you, entertain you,
then just sadden you soon after?
Oh, they can tickle you?
*a meta wink
Cry Track
Now isn’t that a laugh?
Too bad there’s not a laugh track.
You always know when to cry;
don’t need a track for that, right?
Oh, you’re saying that you laugh at yourself?
Yet when you cry, you cry over someone else.
You cry because it’s over.
Now isn’t that a cry?
Oh man, welcome to life.
Now you can’t help but crack a laugh
at the irony of your life’s tragicomic track.
If only that were a crying baby in the other room.
You’re but a grown-up knowing not what to do.
Now, when you cry it’s over.
Not a cue card, yet the audience applauds.
You freeze, and that ain’t a dramatic pause.
(So what’s left for the show?)
The denouement is over.
creatio ex nihilo: a cosmopoietic irony
nothingness comes
and nothing becomes
obliviates all
things that never come
how come that nothing
is even a thing
is it a negation force
a logical “not”
that turns anything into nothing
and nothing into a thing
as if it entered a denial state
that created everything
inconsistency, if anything
raises inconsistent beings
those who write and read
things just like these
Second-Hand Time
Now the second hand clock
Washes its hands of time
Beyond Just Nights
Where was your mind
At those nights you now bet
You hadn’t dreamt of anything?
It’s often said we dream every night
I wonder—how were those dreams
You let slip from your grasp?
Were they any wonder—
Were things out of line?
What secrets lay there?
Were you oblivious
In the face of grand fantasies
You would trade for reality?
Anyway, you’re back
Safe once again
(PARA)CONSISTEN⊥
If everything were poetry
then nothing would be…
If only a verse were self-contained
If only a part were the whole
If only everything holds
Yet some things dare to be bold
Some contradictions are truly the thing
Consistent or inconsistent,
Your verses won’t ever explode
When down the rabbit hole
For context, paraconsistency (see paraconsistent logic) is the idea that coherence is possible even without consistency—i.e., contradictory statements can coexist without leading to a logical explosion (a scenario in which anything can be proven true from a contradiction), which occurs in classical logic. In paraconsistent logic, this principle of explosion does not hold.
Wadi Qelt¹
We can’t get pass the uncanny valley²,
So that we’re back at where we started
It’s a long way to go back—yet a step forward
Darkness awaits us on both ends
It’s been with us along the path
It’s just that our pupils adapted
An ouroboros³, it’s the valley
Hope here, a timid light
that hardly wounds the darkness
No flashlight to reveal the path
So we freeze at where we are
Facing death, personified in our image
1. the “valley of the shadow of death”; 2. a psychological and aesthetic phenomenon where a person feels uneasy or disgusted when a non-living object looks or behaves too much like a human; 3. an ancient symbol depicting a serpent or dragon eating its own tail.
Not Seeing Red
Before I started looking for red cars
on my way work to home,
there was none.
They were all grey, I guess—
or was it my world?
I had lunch;
it was bland.
Home to work.
Where are the blue ones?
It’s about Time: Writing on Time (and Music)
Time. is not from here
It’s just passing by
I keep track of it
Count every beat
Of the music it contains
Which I carve out of it
The melody?
This colored noise contains it
As much as silence does
This time, rain falls
Silence is on me
See the latest post, which indirectly inspired these verses.
Reveries That I Call Poetry 