Nihilist Poems

Meditation on Meaninglessness

In shadow's tomb—
A dim, aimless flicker...
Void's grip, timeless 
claims all.

Fantomsound: life's song is just a cognition in the null.

Rain, pain—
Stardust, dust, flesh 
patternless on oblivions loom.

Decay's dance a molderwaltz,
Fingers grasp at phantoms 
no hope
Peace in the abyss's open arms. Not…

Unveiled—darkness, despair's shroud 
enigma's veil.

Hearts, no soul, toll; unpaid.
Dreams surrendered.
Woe's tale on wastesphere's icy breath.

Void's sigh,
Sun

The Nihilist Penguin

There was once a penguin who thought
That religion and morals were naught,
As he swam in cold water
He thought, "Boy, I oughta...
Do something, but I don't know what.”

Nihilist Footsteps

Nihilist Footsteps


       I have always wanted...
       in the black on black silence
       the womb and the grave
       no respite is engendered
       no soothing harmony sung

Nihilist Dawn

There shall never be another dawn…
Never another day to greet your family 
Or hold the ones you love dear
You will never know the coming nightmare
Or look into the eyes of damnation 
Never greet a great new day with optimism. 
Or know a benevolent god. 

There shall never be another dawn. 
Never again read the writing

Introducing, New - Diet Dr Dishwater: a Manifesto For a New Kind of Nihilist

What's the point of Dr. Dishwater? 
Well, what's the point of anything? 
The only thing that appears 
to have a concrete purpose 
is my car key 
- And I haven't been able to afford a car in years!

Dr. Dishwater emphatically rejects anything 
that is not dishwater, 
and fully supports anything that is: 
And that's how

Nihilist Apathy

The rain pours down on the city. 
A sense of putrid disgust fills the air, 
as trash litters the streets 
and grime grows in every back alley. 

The clouds cast their shadows 
and the lack of saturation sucks the life out of everything 
and everyone. 

The rain adds depth to the highlights and shadows of

Nihilist

Nihilist
Nihilist say we are here for no reason,
say logic in fact has no chance,
But we are born every season,
to lowlife and better half dance,
no memory of why do we suffer?
No recall of love in the mist,
hanged like the odd Cattle Duffer,
the burn on me neck do insist,
ironic we lack some good reason,
door shut in the

Nihilist

Farcical, extravagant 
My birthmark is a scar 
A speckled blotch ...
A spot of pox 
An icon from afar 

I'm an upstart, I'm an eyesore 
Ranting with a flair
In a tempest, I'm a rabid bird 
Setting fire to the air 

As dauntless as a hellhag 
Unmoved by love or care 
I can hold up in a

Nihilist Eyes

After the heavy rain of bloodiest war
Broken directions are in front where to go
Nihilist eyes of visionary screen of boo
Neither life nor death of the rest of war

Victims are overbear to entomb the past
How it is ignored had the war of last
Victors insist to laugh and to cast
Crimes against humanity will not blast

Without minority called

I Am Not a Nihilist, But I'M Getting There

I am from solemn, vagrant, forgotten; from paper and cloth.
I am from the Wheatland.
A derelict gerdner, no longer tending the bud.
 
I am from Nietzsche and Jaspers,
from Mother and Father and Daughter.
From nonsensical and ecoteric voice and curiostiy; 
The questions unanswered.
I am from no where, wheat and rye.
 
From the past; the scent and the

The Nihilist - Eight: the Searcher

How high the moon in comparison
  To the depths in which I sink;
How black the nightfall garrison,
  How black the thoughts I think.
In every niche I see her,
  Every place I think I spy
Glimpses of something proximate
  In peripheral white of the eye.
I seek with fevered staring,
  I seek when

The Nihilist - Seven: Blood On the Moon

Embryos sing saddle-sore sonatas, beneath 
the despot eaves of chromium skies, reflecting 
black light down upon the harbours where 
ambition claws the air and slowly dies; and 
nighthawks scream a siren song of sadness, for 
all the lovers lost and ripped apart, their 
entrails steaming, scattered and decaying, cryogenic 
memories still the beating heart. 

Somewhere

The Nihilist - Six: Caged In a Wide Open Space

Stretched before shaven imagining,
embedded in grey matter,
glistening sparkles simmer,
glint in muddy streams.

And dreams come on cascading,
traverse the emerald view,
patchwork of fields
stitched by olive brocade.

As far as the eye may garner,
landscapes forever spread,
distance spills incessant,
analytically dissociate.

Caged in a wide open space,
stand and stare and enfold,
loneliness rules the hour
for I and my captive self.

The Nihilist - Five: Dog-Tired Days

Parallel went the universe someplace along the line
When autumn French-kissed winter with tongues of leaf and ice;
The lamp-posts dripped drab amber with a dark and dreary shine,
A devil's brew of garnished sleet, elemental egg-fried rice.
Night caved long and colder as day fell short, sedate,
And I felt somewhat older, in my heart a dying spark;
Crying out

The Nihilist - Four: Don'T Look Now

A bad moon on the rise,
Grinning like sour cheese,
Drips a rivulet of blood,
A groovy facial scar;
On the canal rancid surface,
Blacker than a witches’ bowel,
It smiles back at itself,
Death reflected from afar.

Don’t look now, for
Something wicked comes,
Trailing rotten funeral wreaths,
Along the catacomb way;
And the bad moon surveys
The handiwork of conscience,
Turns the plastic red and slick,
Predicting venous

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