Short Nihilist Poems

Nihilist Tristan Tzara
founder of he genre Dada
Deconstructed outrageous poetry
chaotic wordage to you&me...

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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.”...

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I'm from Portugal ...
  I'm an enlightenment but
  i am not french,
  i appreciate beatles but
  I am not English...
  But I am not a "mass",
  I'm a bridge, I'm not
  nihilist, I'm Kant ......

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I once knew a post-modern type,
a nihilist hard to talk with.
He smoked too much and like to say,
“All morality is relative.”

“Is that an absolute statement,”
I then asked, and he said, “Yes.”
I just laughed and he looked confused,
he still hasn’t gotten it yet....

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No, my mother Atheist said,
Long live cricket, God is dead,
Debbie Downer's Nihilist thoughts,
Total negativity she taught,
This is Debbie Downer' doormat daughter,
Saturday sportsmen off to the slaughter,
Yes, God is dead,
Long live extreme sports,
That's what negative Norma said....

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Nihilist :
Being observed,
makes you feel undressed, naked.
A linear, ramp rage
rises.

Pieces of time 
fall in your mouth. You start behaving 
erratically. Hawthorne effect ?
You know how sharp, stout
are the stings ?

Testicles shrink.
The unrelenting zero burns the fat.
The emptiness was howling.
Time was dying,
and dying was time.


Satish Verma...

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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 soft hum dissapating into the never ending ether.
I am from no where....

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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 spray....

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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 well of the mind,
i'm here for what bloody reason,
the past of the path don't unwind?
Don Johnson...

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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....

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