I will join the folds of this metaverse
that persists in living through motionless
moments .
Silence falls over the sad hill cemetery
The old gunfighter is dead .
Beloved pistolero .
Freeze frame .The reality begins .
The sand in the hourglass
continues to flow ever higher
in search of a sublime whisper...
But no matter how much you try
to turn it around ,it stubbornly
keeps coming back to the past...
This trick is nothing more
than a tragicomedy that defy
god absence ...
Mister Bean in heaven forgive the son !
You who profess lavatory expertise,
four season merchants ,
fertilized by so many children's lies.
Open the window onto the womb
of the void !
That the grain of sand born of the stars
disrupts the machinery !
But how to break the cotton chains ?
I would have been nothing but
that nihilistic prophet penetrated
by the dark desire of the fruit ...
I'm finally going to run away
from you philosophy !
Suppository that makes fool believe !
Throw all that fioritura into the fire!
Turn crowd around the dying quantum !
Spirit that will dissolve in the organic delta,
fragmented whole of multiple atoms...
It's time Herr doktor Freud to autopsy my soul !
'' I only see patients that have signed
a pact with the serpent ! ''
even before dying I'm still not crazy enough ...
I must continue to turn this damn hourglass
for eternity to find the salvation ...
Sanctified spoonerism .
Amen !
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 24th, 2025 10:49
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: Ellen Marsell, Friendship

Offline)
Comments4
Meditation on mortality and memory .
Nice !
It's a serious scientific buffoonery on the afterlife !
A dyslexic speaks truth with a twisted tongue. An upside down hourglass is but the same when turned over, what does it do for plumbing problems? Freud arm wrestling Jung stuck in mortal combat the archetype gains ground but sex comes from behind. Ford was a Nazi in better times and Engles left Marx on is car.
Tell me doctor Barett do i need therapy or am I a genius ?
All genius' s need therapy as do we all.
absolutely ! I'll consult Dr Groucho !
He is renowned and has a very sharp wit.
Not the Dr Marx of course !
The poem revolves around the existential struggle of the individual in a world that feels trapped in the past and burdened by the weight of memories and experiences. The subject matter includes themes of death, the passage of time, the search for meaning, and a critique of philosophical constructs that attempt to define or confine human experience.
Thermo dynamic time reversal in a far-fetched equation !
the sands of time fall down only one way, and there is no escaping that basic truth
some serious thinking here...
We ourselves are made of this stardust ...
yes indeed
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.