Notes About The Poem
The Story of Your Stuff Poetry Contest
sponsored by Jaymee Thomas 07/31/24
My oblivious eye
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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