Tag Archives: existential poetry

When Love is the Last Illusion (Previously, the White Dove of Hope)

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Condemned by fate, and mocked by hope, until one dangerous word appears – love.

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Oh, you sad children of a time so evil and dark,

you are all the product of undesirable circumstances.

Your love always went stale before it could spark,

though you availed all the emerging chances

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You were the anomaly in the grand scheme;

you should have been smothered when born

Sadly, the plan remained only a dream;

though conceived by the Devil with open scorn

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You knew while you grew, you had no roots;

you were the useless moss clinging to a boulder

You had no character, no faith, and no attributes,

yet the burdens of life, you carried on your shoulder

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But you all survived, and yet you go on living;

for what purpose, may I ask in all sincerity

When both fate and life are so unforgiving,

your sustained survival becomes a vulgarity

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Desist! I suggest, or surrender, I would advise;

nothing will help you persist or even grow

Throw the cards down; please be a little wise,

just cease all efforts and go with the flow

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What did you just say? Do I hear the word ‘love’?

Yes, perhaps, love is the only solace you may ever find

It is your golden butterfly, a beautiful white dove,

in a world filled with hatred, this word sounds so kind

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Go on then, caress its warmth while you can,

till the white dove forsakes and abandons you

You will be all done with life; there is no other plan,

nothing else over the horizon for you to view

The Ugly Face of Happiness

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mindfield_by_geoarcus_dclyl8v-fullview

What if happiness is not sweet salvation, but poisonous seduction?

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Happiness is a wretched prostitute,

in fancy clothes and a painted attire

Her seduction is old, in fact, it is ancient,

but it tastes fresh on the lips of desire

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Happiness is the sprinkled and colored dust;

on a butterfly’s wings as the summer lingers

The colours seem eternally captivating,

but they fade within the grasp of greedy fingers

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Happiness is a deceptive illusion,

projected by the frozen moments of time

The illusion seems perfectly alluring,

but it shatters with the very next chime

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Happiness is a vulture atop the tree of life,

disguised as a magnificent bird of paradise

The brilliance of its colours blinds the eyes,

while its greedy heart is as chilling as ice

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Happiness is opium dulling our senses,

overwhelming the awareness like magic

Its fumes give a pleasure so insane,

while it blinds us to the misery, so tragic

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Happiness is pursued, yes, but only by fools,

but it is not trusted by the wise, not at any cost

Happiness breeds hard and cruel insensitivity,

while sadness brings understanding, when all is lost

A Dialogue with the Darkness (Previously, the Darkenss Within)

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When the self turns inward, the sharpest blade is awareness.

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I want a sharp knife;

the sharpest of all I have ever seen in this life

A knife with an ivory grip and a gleaming edge;

engraved with obscure ruins, carrying a death pledge

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I want to plunge it into my belly;

slicing it across, all through the quivering jelly

Cutting open myself and savoring the soothing pain;

smelling the oozing blood and enjoying the red rain

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The steaming guts will spill out;

and so will the coldness, without a doubt

I want to confront the coldness under my skin;

I so want to face the raging darkness within

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I want to feel their texture and what makes up my core;

the ice-cold mercury seeping out of each pore

I so want to sense their force, so binding and so freeing;

their powerful darkness vibrating in my being

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I want to question them all, the unanswered queries;

hanging in balance, the forever silent juries

I want to challenge them all, the reservoirs of valor;

forever loud but hollow, the reds masking my pallor

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Why do you reside within me?

Perhaps two despising lovers smiling with glee?

Or are you sent by my respectful adversaries,

not really bothered, and just two emissaries?

Once I wanted to be immortal

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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

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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