What else reason brought us upon Earth than facts that
are so trivial, they are even barely believable;
we are none more than the result of animals’ breeding,
doing the same life-essential routines of eating-excreting – and
here, some of our smart arse would say
that we are SENT down to this place by reason that
is we are JUST better than all other livings even if
the facts don’t support this answer; firstly because there was no
question to be answered so arrogantly.
And the above fact that we, humans, defend so desperately our supremacy proves that
we are in deed just a scavenged mixture of nature that
are here just as any other being; temporarily
blessed by the moment and cursed by the next
in what we fall from the circling giant wheel of life; and
this is what we can call a fact
that is standing above beliefs and can start a discussion on what
we are doing here now in these moments that
happen, now, but in the next round they cease as we cease
to know the false facts that kept us believing in
the answer without question why we are here now.
Yes, this isn’t easy to face that there’s no meaning
in the job we take, our education or
the family we were living for;
immense reasons “keeping us alive” are just parts of this
confusion that hides the fact that we are here for
one reason that is to live and die; one
thing is sure above all the false-certitude that Death
alone is the only common variable between us that
is unavoidable, doubtless, assured and
clear as it is.
We are dying together from the first moment we
are to face this glance of time of living, or rather
waiting for reasons to be here;
for we never can know why we are here, but
Godot is coming, and we are either willing or not, but we are waiting it
(“What are we doing here, that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in the immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot to come –” Samuel Beckett – Waiting for Godot)
The sun has been fallen;
The light was irregardless,
The park has been sullen;
I sat on a bench regardless.
If I had faced a human being,
I’d be able to tell the truth;
Whether I’d been seen or seeing,
W’ther I own or pwn the ruth.
Maybe, if I had chosen a buddy;
Sharing the self-created pain,
I would see that unlucky body
As an anchor to all my pain.
The park was empty as my soul,
As the store of my social acts;
It’s been a decade that I’m sole;
I surrounded myself with facts.
Knowledge’s become my only goal,
Brought by all the human science;
By the way, this is the only how
I could escape my own conscience.
Ed says bad, then Ed says do,
I am a slave of my own vapours;
I did bad and I did good,
Playing with time as vipers do.
Human animal am I,
For whom the sun is sullen?
Nay, I shouldn’t hide;
By time, the sun will be fallen.
The destiny – whether one’s ready to
die on it or die for it –
has never been else than a given decision,
been our ever nature to screen it,
cast it, and act on it until we own our last deadend reality.
(The die has been cast. – Julius Caesar)
Should I look for meaning in life if I know
I am following my own product?
Kill or beget; we are all following a flow –
Myself, I am barely able to deduct
Or anticipate the so-called reality I undergo.
Have I missed an important act?
A purpose I should have known a long ago?
Cup all of my years in your hands as a fact
Of that I was living, and throw ’em with a blow;
Coffee and cigarettes will distract me while you’re doing so.
(Should I kill myself, or have a cup of coffee? – Albert Camus)
This is the end.
But the end started at the creation
of the first deoxyribonucleic acid,
of the first cellular life,
of the first material’s
This is the end.
The end was here from the beginning
at the enactment of beginning,
at the start of all existence,
at the emptiness
in the void.
This is the end.
The end of my deoxyribonucleic acids
of formed cellular creation,
of temporary learning,
I trusted only myself from the beginning –
if you have nothing, the cost will be willing
for the man. In no way it will be more
than for the animal that dropped not living anymore.
Even if I was scared, I found my stand-
I was born, I mingled and I did out-stand.
I even paid everyone just as was the measure,
who gave it for free, I accepted with pleasure.
Women, if I was play-toy for any of their flattery:
I believed it really – let them be happy!
I scrubbed ships, pulling buckets as my only tool.
Among smart gentlemen, I played the fool.
I sold spinners, breads and books,
newspapers, poems – whenever what smooths.
Not in a glorious combat, not on a gentle rope,
but I end up in a bed, sometimes I hope.
Either way, now the inventory is ready.
I lived – and even others have died in it already.
Translated from the Hungarian poem of Attila Jozsef, “Kész a leltár” (1936).
Stack my years behind me and those in front,
Rush then with them to a battlefront
That ends in a mass grave.
Stack my years and throw them into fire,
Burning a forest if there’s no hellfire
Just to make a mess.
Stack my years I lived and set them
Like dominos, then let them
To fall apart.
Stack my years in a messy writing
Needing a thousand rewriting,
Then, just delete.
Do whatever you want, please,
Just make it end, please,
It’s said: there’s a God
Everything in six days and rested…
I don’t want this theory to be tested,
But the copyright on his days is quite divested:
(Two more Babylonian lines
For a Moon-phase advertise’ …)
Sunday – Norse goddess,
Chased by Hate, son of the grotesque
Moonday – Sun’s brother,
Also dog-chased, but not bothered until
Tiw’s day – the dueling Mars,
But not making too many wars with hands
Odin’s day – deathly Mercury,
Nothing makes him more hurry than
Thor’s Day – thundering Jupiter,
Famously he’s a soul-janitor just as his dad,
Freya’s day – our sweet Venus,
Every man is dying just to reach her..
Saturn’s day – the god of time,
Known as Cronos with a scythe, eating
The more I’m looking for meaning in this life,
The more I end up saying: where’s your God now?
‘One’ for every human variables,
‘Zero’ for all how I care,
‘One’ for every feelings on the world,
‘Zero’ I understood or cared.
Once life must end in general,
Zero counts all my care,
One variable’s life in the mass
Zeroed in matter of fare.
in a corner
I try to escape
in grandmaster games
I try to avoid
at his inquest
my peace of mind
out of wedlock
I miscredit judgments from
among whole numbers
my death will be