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Poem


Here on the cusp of all things, is where I succumb 
Ceding my stuff blindly, toward oblivion and none 
Unwilling to persevere, without a modicum of fun 
Listing in perpetual stasis, til the spasm’s undone 

And yet a god may save me, or a talisman of love 
Some prophet of euphoria, quelling ennui thereof 
Placing good tidings, into a universal equation 
Edifying eternity…..revealing its exact duration…..

Alas he speaks in riddles, and treads a mobius strip
Each cycle forming a twist, convoluting his trip
Determined I follow, my awareness in collapse 
Narrow-mindedly stumbling into mortality traps 

Now I sense the endgame, but decline to exalt 
Its a distortion, an abortion, a cataclysmic fault 
Chance meeting with a nihilist, yields positive results 
Unable to see past zero, he reveals nothing but cults

Here on the cusp of all things, is where I begun
A contorted brain-f*ck, had no choice but to come 
A demon of clarity, with an open ended measure 
One who gives to please, but prefers taking pleasure 

To believe for one moment, I’d live off a dying spark 
Only denies potential, when again life goes dark 
With more light to come, my sunglasses prepared 
Eternity’s not polarised, just infinitely layered 

If a blind man articulates, I’ve seen all this before
Screaming and convinced “I’m a seer at my core”
Could be he’s mistaken, or deluded with Déjà vu 
Begs his final question, “do I have a point of view”?

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