Poetry O’ the Obsolete 

Poetry O’ the Obsolete 

heading toward the absolute of the outer space,
somehow he gets sucked into
a black hole
o’ his inner universe

in a long journey to the unknown,
his mind is like a pendulum
swinging back and forth
in the continuous realm
and future

he’s buried in multiple dimensions of the infinite;
the endless cycle
spring, summer, autumn, and winter
and whatsoever that time would be

somehow, all lights are off, the whole virtual cosmos is down
he gets lost in a hell of nothingness
the nightmare in absolute silence
he hears nothing
noise of man
no sound of other beings,
worse, he loses all contacts to the outer universe.
he sinks into the core of naught,

inside the darkness
of his own
it’s quite a nightmare.
he finds no imagination,
no food for thought.
that he recycles those rotten words
stomach upset forces him to throw everything inside up

a flock of crows noisily pick every piece his rubbish
they happily recite each line of his poetry of the obsolete

Thao Chuong Tran Quoc Viet

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