Skip to main content

Ode to Nothing

Nothing
Is there pressing close against my face.
Nothing
Always there filling up the empty space.

Nothing 
Is there - the most tried and true friend.
Nothing
Will certainly be there in the end.

Nothing
Will always lead and also follow.
Nothing 
Is ever full and ever quite hollow.

Nothing
Connects an object to its given name.
Nothing
Appears behind the curtains of pride and shame.

Nothing
Shall always and evermore be.
Nothing 
Shall exist for all eternity.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Les Projections Mentales

Mindful chassés Amidst quixotic skirmishes Riding abstract waves - En pointe flourishes Disciplined glissandos Along illumined keys Measured tremolos Vibrating Gaia's seas Orchestrated precision Whirlpools twist Nature's decision At the turn of a wrist Enigmatic code Manifests intention From Water's abode Emerges dimension - J. Sadler

Abandon

* Warning!  Highly sensitive & possibly trigger inducing material.  Please read with caution.*      These are my pieces…      You probably don’t know me or - if you do - know  it occurred.  It really won’t matter because you wouldn’t even recognize my face, anyway (seeing how it’s splattered all across the rails and rocks.)      All most of you saw was what you wanted to see.  You couldn’t seem to see past the end of your nose.  I reached out to you, yet you were ashamed to be near me.  You called me psychotic,       worthless,            the dregs of society.        You told me to pick myself up “by the bootstraps!”   …if only it were that easy…        I sought out anything to numb the pain of my own self-loathing.  Then, I was hated for that destructive vice which I succumbed to; and that made me hate m...

Another Comedy for the Logos

And there was my heart On that sleeve drenched in blood, Squeezed to the last drop, Trampled, and pressed in the mud. The chalice was raised; “Take drink!” They all said. Whence my tongue rejected it, They cried, “Lie, thee, with the dead!”      And you’ll paint a pretty heaven      And turn mortals into gods      While you stand and watch me burn      Amidst complacent nods.      You place filthy hands      On my emaciated back.      I’ll be what I will be      When, alas, you paint me black! And I sank into my skin As you ripped out my tongue. “It’s for your own good,” Was the song to be sung. And, oh, they stoked the fire To set the demons free; Led by the shackles Of their mental slavery.      And you’ll paint a pretty heaven      And turn mortals into gods      While you stand and watch me burn      Amids...