An old poem


I stumbled across this and thought I’d post it… its written in my more mangled style that I haven’t been writing in lately. A sense of harmony, an increasing mindfulness and the satisfaction of knowing I’m in the field I’m meant to be in don’t really breed such a disjointed and contorted style. I wrote this about a year or so ago.

Ode to Nihil

Monstrous outside slickened
A greyscape global membrane
And slant edge rooftop meeting
Creasing cristae foldings
All blankness withering and
In the know of not much happening.

Elsescape vistas dawn recognition
Of towering faithless falling and
The thickening of history.

Older than that muted shrieking
Forgetful of itself
The crystalline amnesiac memory
Of eternity in splinter forms
All unique as grains of dust
Or viruses.

Swerving diagonal through the up ways
A splice of time-extraction
Made swollen of itself in gluttony
As eating all and every
Coating with the burnt ballast
Of some deranging infinity.

And the strangest of it all
The feeling of the calling;
A dog’s head in a freezer shuddering,
Muttering. In

Set sleep cells for
A million lullabies for coroner trajectories,
Each half life halving.
Though the object is chosen.
Though the object has chosen.
A bullet is clogged
In coagulating destiny.


2 Responses to “An old poem”

  1. To say this old style had some ‘darkness’ to it would be a bit of an understatement…so glad things have changed for you. 😉 Still a very interesting poem.

  2. 2 dronemodule

    The darkness remains, slp… I just don’t live inside it. Thanks for your comment.

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