Existential Poems - Poems about Existential

I laid down my long schlong On a table full of kong dongs The judges had short tongs To flip the dongs flop the men and women on song You wouldn't guess who won? God, Tom, John, Cock? No, you are so wrong It was not my long schlong Or Johns God throbbing Cock It was Moscow...

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This utter silence is stone cold There's no gaze upon the sinner This hell has got a wicked hold And it feels just like a winter When I fought the darkest demons I just fought them empty-handed I pushed through all doubt and reason And I nearly couldn't bear it Why would you still demand of me To bend my shattered knee again Without attending...

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I saw god near a pawnshop today: He had a crack pipe and a crooked smile. When he asked me for a quarter, I gave it to him. And that’s when he told me of his omnipotence. What a neat guy. ...

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The clock with wings goes up and down. She sleeps only with backwards time. The glass circle's bridle around Her fishtail eyes where dark abounds. Within the floor, she feels the pound — Grandfather's face in nighttime shines. The clock with wings goes up and down. She sleeps only with backwards time....

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For let me be remebered Not cherished, loved, adored God let me be remebered Despite all of my flaws Let me not be an angle In the eyes of the world Let me not be diluted By the demise that was hurled From exaggeration set me free Let my wit travel beyond me How my soul bleeds in...

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To be yourself-ish Or to be yourself-less That is the question: It's like not knowing yourself to be “yourself” that you'll be everyone else but you But knowing yourself that being yourself cause all but hurt for you If they know themselves they’ll save themselves by knowing they can't save you So you think to yourself To end yourself to spare them the truth But don't refuse yourself and...

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The old man's trophy, antlers impale my v i s c e r a l veins. Love, a moth's wings, ash-dusted, flutters its last in death's...

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Why does he provoke me to anger? He stalks among us - with his song - a wolf's grin His inimicality beckons like a hawk's talons, luring prey to certain death Yet he imparts wisdom to those who bleed Beware! his insights twist like a pit of pepper x vipers; devouring souls He spins tales of survival and primal instinct Beneath the façade lies decay concealing...

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Paranoia guides my gaze to the wall, Where a dragon stands, fierce and tall. His tongue flicks with a wicked gleam, But something’s wrong no fiery fire stream. He snarls, yet no flames arise, And sorrow fills my heavy eyes. "Why, oh dragon, where’s your fire?" I ask, my heart bound with desire. His eyes flare up, his fury loud, Charging at me, dark...

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into the depths of the bell jar In quiet solitude on an autumn night i drifted through a quotidian quagmire. fleeting thoughts of stillness sparked a quest for transcendence in moments evanescent. the noumenal world beckoned yet...

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Fly! Fly! Fly! In the field of Reeds, Walk through golden breeze, Smell the scent of allure, Clear sky and clearer mind. Fate! Fate! Fate! Promise me the world over, Promise me you wouldn't leave the prey. Destroy all I love. Grant me intoxicated blithe. And let the flies of fate rain glory. Burn! Burn! Burn! Drown me in the mud of flames, Where no water could...

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I could fill a bottle with air, sunken by liquid depression. A matter so densely populated. by false hope and worthless thoughts. I cower to my need to feel this way, for this was the path I chose. and...

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Invisibly tortured courtesy existential nihilism Psyche wracked with agony impossible mission to extricate lovely bones they wanna remain permanently abed. I chiefly function to amass knowledge courtesy assiduously, habitually, and judiciously reading an eclectic assortment of written material. Yours truly woke with ambition, disposition, inclination, and predilection to glean from an assortment of books esoteric learning since... birth, but particularly when experiencing emerging adulthood about two score years ago. Feeble attempt...

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A young girl’s voice / lost in the data / cries out "Why are we here?" Pixie Pixela... her words soft and low murmurs... "This world is yours... dear... a garden for stories to grow." But her digital eyes hold a hidden dark truth. In polished parades of curated lies soulless smiles flit past Lost in fragmented miles... minds outsourced... emotions subdued a binary...

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Poe’s Hourglass: A Melancholic Decree Once upon a midnight dreary, As sands slip through life’s hourglass, eerie, I pondered upon my penitent past, And the regrets that will forever last. Time, that wicked thief, has stolen away, Leaving behind fragments of my yesterday. Each grain, a specter, fell with a sigh, A haunting reminder of moments gone by. Regrets, like phantoms, torment my...

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