Poetry Of Tantrik Nihilist

Habitual Delirium

So indurate, as perfect
Mirrored normality,
Stuck between,
Some worn sun, and a running moon.

Glaciers of motive,
melt,
to stop the, flames that burn,
the firewood, in shape of interpersonal excusing,
within liquidating offence,
seeding of vigor, stemming into,
a beam choked by a corner.

So nervously eager,
to near, so far away,
ever increasingly,
at strand,
with much attempt up towards a totality of numbness.

So clingingly swift to wallow in grass, soil, and ground.
I’ll be impeditive forever,
in my belief,
that we need a new name,
for this wondrous word called love,
no gives, yet we’ve still found.

Welcome to my blog! I’m assuming you’re new to my page, as I’m new to this website. Since this is a new blog and there’s not much material on here yet, I wanted to have a brief welcome letter to kind of give anyone visiting my page an idea of what my page is about.

I’m primarily starting this page to simply put my poetry, lyrics, and whatever else I wrote out into the world. Over many years, I’ve written a vast amount of material, primarily poetry/lyrics. I will also probably be writing a lot about poetry theory as well. I feel have a little bit of a hard time finding publications where my style fits. So I’m doing this to have record of my work and try to build somewhat of an audience. Perhaps even to attract publishers. I am planning to start submitting more regularly. However, at the end of the day, it’s most important for this blog to simply make my work availing to the public.

I am a musician as well. In fact music is sort of my first love. I initially started learning about poetry when I was young to learn more about song-writing and very quickly it became a life-long passion. I currently sing/play guitar in a hardcore punk band Caltrops here in Denver, CO. I also have a solo project using various instruments called Tantrik Nihilist and do a very occasional collaboration with other musicians. All this being said, I will be sharing things related to my music on here as well. Of course this blog will primarily be for my poetry.

I will be updating this letter as I’m updating this blog in general. I will most likely eventually share ideas about the Occult, Tantra, and various other philosophies. I’ve had a pretty insane life-story that I’ve never told publicly, I may do that on here eventually. I don’t consider myself a super political person exactly, but I do have an interest in that type of thing. That’s something that definitely shows in my work. I also do some collage art which occasionally show up. So, there’s no telling what all I’ll come to post as time progresses.

93 93/93

Schismatic And Divisional

EXCERPT

Schismatic and Divisional,
Borders, and walls,
Us vs. them,
Driving towards black and white,
For a grey race,
When you’re treated as the adversary,
Why be anything but?
Really, bacteria eating itself
Like becoming our own maggots,
Devouring our own flesh,
Just cannibals,
Concerned about everything except for ourselves,
But nothing for anyone else,
At the same time,
Devouring manufactured thoughts,
That are but the product,
Of a industrialized mentality,
Wherein emotions are a flaw in the mechanism of our carnal purpose,
That’s not our own, but for a unallocated merit.

Beliefs have fallen from all purpose,

To mere idles of regalia,

They’re just brands of morality,

Everyone is a salesman,

So burn your flags,

Burn your religious texts,

Your relevance has long been ash,

None of these beliefs are your own,

They’re the ideas of others,

You choose to believe in them,

For better or worse,

We’ll find belief in something,

I just wish it was nothing.

Never!

Not now.

Nor has it been.

It shalt be.

Whatever it is or isn’t,

Has not, or will

Ever-less, to be

Take it all away and you have nothing,

That same nothing you have now,

Now that it’s all been placed there,

But still the blood, the flesh

Time and again, we put it back

So that we can tear it away from being,

Not the being that matters,

The being that is,

The being that we flounder in.

Feeble attempts at existing,
Followed by even more petty attempts at being,
Resulting in a bizarre unity of one another,
One where we see one as another,
Not the same, not as the self, or the lack there of,
So that opinions are imagined to be conscious actions,
When really our actions are unconscious circumstances of forgetting our opinions,
No longer are we our mind,
No longer are we our body,
We are only our shadows.

Haiku For The Opioid Epidemic

Bloody red poppies
bleeding in February,
– sick in flu season.

Seizure Of The Soul

A poem/complaint about my unfortunate health conditions. Feeling it tonight…

Tremors – beyond control!

Insomnia – beyond my sanity!

Seizures – death to my soul…

Seizures. Another seizure.

Another life flashes before my eyes and burning from within-without.

Shaking, convulsing,

Internally,

Externally, and

Wherein, I am but a conduit betwixt two opposing, and abject currents of electricity.

Tearing me to 10,000 puzzle-pieces, for me to attempt (in the most obvious futility) to heal this cirrhosis of my soul.

In a grand mal outer-body experience

there I am. Convulsing into eternity, sleepless and

afflicted by your tiny world, and so thusly I

shake… and I can see

that what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger…

Or just ruins your fucking life.

Haiku For The 2020 Election

This is definitely not a “traditional haiku” by any means. The style of haiku I’m sorting of drawing influence from here would be Jack Kerouac’s “haikus” as he called them. A style which sort of allows a little bit more autonomy over the structure. The actual content of the poem, was inspired by the thought that voting for either Biden or Trump is like picking which piece of shit smells better.

Flies on a corpse,
-shit pile steams.
Voters in election times

The Requisition

This poem was written for the title track of an album I recorded about a year ago.

My xenophobia for Death,
Is understood now,
Is now but a requisite,
A prayer, for such
The philanthropist has been beaten,
Except not to a pulp,
But a sociopath,
With an underlying potential,
Even thirst, for violence.

Years of anesthesia,
Has numbed all but pain,
A broken machine, I am
Wherein my hatred is industrial,
Jesus wept,
My only prayer, is that he suffers more
Opposites attract,
So I, I may only hate him.

Naloxone Resurrection

Seven needles, overdose me seven times

I am his son, with the Holy Spirit I rise

For I am the second-coming, believe in me

With noxious communion, for thy children

I am eternal, in my naloxone resurrection