Free Verse on Lit Up
I Am The Poet of the Postmodern
Seeking form in formlessness
the night swallows
the remnants of day
I walk streets that echo
with histories I cannot
untangle, pasts I cannot
reclaim, the city hums
its electric hymn, a requiem
for the forgotten
a flicker of neon
illuminates my thoughts
fractured, scattered
like leaves in the wind
I am a vessel of verse
a conduit for chaos
whispering truths
that dissolve in the morning light
shadows dance in alleyways
murmur secrets I can’t decipher
I scribble fragments
on napkins, on walls
words bleeding ink
onto the fabric of existence
seeking meaning
in the mundane, the miraculous
I am the poet
of the postmodern, a voice
in the noise of now
untamed, unbridled
my lines run wild
across the page
seeking form in formlessness
clarity in the chaos
streetlights flicker
a pulse of urban life
I breathe in the night
its cold, metallic taste
fills my lungs with longing
for a time when words
were solid, when lines
held the weight of worlds
but now, in this moment
I am the poet
of the postmodern
I capture the fleeting
the ephemeral, the transient
I paint with shadows
with echoes, with ghosts
that linger in the spaces
between
in the end,
my words fade
into the silence
of the city’s breath
yet still, I write
unseen, unheard
a poet of the postmodern
caught in the endless
night
Ani Eldritch 2024
