Let my words fly to their freedom.
Allow this poem to defy conformity –
Of rhyme, of rhythm,
Of expectations, of meaning.
Let it mock mathematical truths –
Disobeying laws of thought
By being neither exceptional,
Nor abysmal, nor mediocre
Nor grammarly.
Let it make no sense at all.
Let it just, like all of us, be.

I am eager to sample words
From a finite set, and arrange them
Like the digits of pi, in an infinite array
To exhaust all that can be
Ever said.
And then add a few more words
About life, melancholy, nightmares
And absence of meaning.

Let these words be written, read
And forgotten.
Let them be a requiem for
The past that was and
The future that will never be.
Let this poem revel
In sadness, in verbosity
And in complete abstractions.
Let this poem enjoy its right
To be a bad poem
Like we enjoy our right to
Ignorance and stupidity.
They say information,
Like mass-energy is
Conserved, conferring immortality
To humans and their memories.
Let there be a recourse to
Amnesia.
Let this poem find refuge
In a parallel universe
Where kindness and humanity, like entropy
Only grow with time
And emotions, Relativity and Quantum Theory,
Are consistent.
Where the inexplicable sufferings
Of this universe
And Gödel’s incompleteness
Do not exist.
Ergo happiness and meaning do.

Let this hopeless poem end on a
Hopeful note.

– O.

 

(Dedicated to the human spirit of endurance – in the face of natural and man-made calamities.)