Tag Archives: futility

Self-induced Comatose

Let us not try to uncover

The idea behind this poem.

Such words elude meaning

As if a potion for death

After our very last breath.

 

This could be something else entirely.

Doing away with your interpretation

With nothing, not even my perception

Is gullible enough for these words’ misdirection.

 

This could be an explosive

To the door of your world of thoughts

Being in itself the meaning

In your own definitive scale.

 

This could be a pause;

A living poem in a hiatus

To the world we despise

Along with my anguished cries.

 

This could be nothing

As it’s supposed to be.

However, being nothing

Is being like anything.

 

Anything this could ever be

Like water taking the form of its container

To be something more than it already is

Escaping from the imagined reality.


Same Formula, Different Variables

Constant, unimaginable
Same flow, different road.
The traffic, the lights
The intersection and signs
Are all the same but the day.

Different cars, faces and voices
Echoes bounce back
Different waves, intensity and direction.
The breeze is still but never the same.

Yesterday, today and tomorrow
We walk the same path and follow
The same moments of the past
And thinking the moments would last

But it’s the same thing all over again
Like the hands of the clock on the wall
Circling and circling ’til the end
Telling the same, right but different call.