Tag Archives: existential poetry

Questions that I often Ask Myself

Posted in Poetry English by
puzzle_by_shadowtuga_d2wcvhe-fullview

Who am I? What am I? What is my existence? Where am I heading? What will become of me?—Five questions, no answers, only increasingly dark possibilities.

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Who am I,

when I laugh so loud, and also when I cry?

Am I a terrible figment of God’s imagination,

or perhaps, as I often tell myself, a mirthful lie?

Perhaps, I am what was meant to be discarded,

or maybe, to be ignored carelessly, or meant to die

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What am I,

when I beg and beseech, looking up to the sky?

Am I a chaotic and messy pile of junk and trash,

or perhaps a weird collection of impossible thoughts?

Perhaps, I am a useless and wasteful hand of tarot,

a card with no picture or symbol, only stains and dots

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What is my existence,

when I examine my state from some distance?

Is this just a never-ending nightmare, 

or perhaps just sand slipping through my grasp?

Perhaps, there is really nothing that I truly have,

and maybe the rope of hope is just a venomous asp

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Where am I heading,

with a resolve all strong, and my wings all spreading?

Am I diving headfirst into an unfathomable abyss,

or perhaps heading towards doom, with a loud roar?

Perhaps, I am driving down the road to hell,

while the shadow of doubt grows even more

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What will become of me,

will I ever know for sure, and will I ever see?

Will I always be searching for what I dream of,

or is the door just locked forever, and there is no key?

Perhaps, what I touch, will one day become gold,

but by then, all the light will be lost to the dark sea

Once I wanted to be immortal

Posted in Poetry English by

A haunting journey from the hunger for immortality to the longing for silence.

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Once I wanted to be immortal;

experience each pleasure that life was offering,

and live each dream, my imagination was proffering

But then I saw, and then I observed,

each pleasure came with regret and too much pain,

that dreams were a loss, and not really a gain

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Once I wanted to be immortal;

live each day with laughter, my heart brimming with joy,

and love the whole world, its beauty, and its clever ploy

But then I saw, and then I observed,

all joy was fake, and happiness was only opium,

that love was a farce, enacted from an egoistic podium

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Once I wanted to be immortal;

experience all my wisdom could understand and reach,

learn all the lessons that life could ever teach

But too many years have passed, and I have grown up;

now I just want to fade away and dissolve without a trace,

and sleep a blissful sleep, far beyond this time and space

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Now, every trace of my presence, I just want to erase,

the glory is all gone, and extinguished is the blaze

Now, I just want to find a way out of this fucking maze,

I just want to get out, without any kudos, without any praise

Go where there is no more me, no desires or ambition,

where all is always silent, the realm of the Great Magician

God’s Breakable Toys

Posted in Poetry English by
a broken doll

What if everything we believe about right and wrong, love and hate, and heaven and hell, is just an elaborate lie we tell ourselves to feel significant?

A provocative philosophical poem structured as a series of “what if” questions that systematically dismantle fundamental human beliefs about existence, morality, choice, and emotion.

What if there is no eternity, there is no heaven or hell?

What if there are no consequences, good or bad, at all?

The guilt is just a loathsome burden, a rotten, stinking smell,

while life is just a dream, no ups or downs, big or small

What if there is no choice, there is no right or wrong?

What if there are no options, left or right, at all?

Life is just the time, singing a long, sad song,

while fate sits smiling, and quietly rules all

What if there is no color, there is no black or white?

What if there are no shades, dark or light, at all?

Life is just reflections, a kaleidoscope made right,

while our dreams are just dancing shadows on a wall

What if there is no feeling, there is no love or hatred?

What if there are no emotions, anger, or fear at all?

We are all just great actors, holding our roles sacred,

while each act promptly happens on the director’s call

What if there is no change, there is no sadness or joys?

What if there are no upheavals, high or low, at all?

We are all just God’s property, His breakable toys,

played with, and tossed aside, in His great hall

Where is that Sweet, Sad Place where Elephants go to Die?

Posted in Poetry English by
elephant-kenya-340364

A journey into the mythic graveyard of memories, guilt, and dreams that refuse to die.

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Where is that sweet and sad place,

perhaps lost forever in both time and space,

upon the brazen earth and under the grey sky,

where elephants go to die?

Strength and might sometimes fail,

in the face of raging fire, rain and hail

Failure exhausts the strongest of souls,

when we repeatedly fail to achieve our goals

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Where is that dark and cold womb,

devoid of all life, it’s really a tomb,

when one fails each challenge and test,

where worries finally come to rest?

Worries, which were once peacefully silent,

but now extending their tentacles, cruel and violent

My worries are not making a submissive bow,

my worries are kicking and screaming now

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Where is that vast desolation of heart,

where the sun never shines as the clouds do not part,

where all of us are destined to be, the fools and the clever, 

where dead love breathes its last and rests forever?

Memories, which were once pretty and colourful,

but now have haunting eyes, dull and dreadful

Memories are not compelling me to make a new vow,

my memories, are dead and only skeletons now

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Where is that unfathomably deep, black hole,

which silences all greed, and the dreams it once stole,

where regrets crawl and plead infernally,  

where guilt is finally dead and is buried eternally?

Guilt, once a rare acquaintance and even a stranger,

it was a horse called Diablo, without a ranger

My guilt is watching me with a frowned brow,

my guilt is a monster, a menacing presence now

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I fear their accusations, their dead, hollow stare,

the evil was afar, yet somewhere close here

I loathe their presence and hold onto my spear,

the damnation was afar, yet somewhere so near

My anguish and my fear, I scream and I mumble,

my agony and my dread, I run and I stumble

I scream and I run, I make a final try,

to reach that place where elephants go to die