29/05/2020, Stanimir Panayotov

hear the Gnostic winds of unknowing:

knowledge that stutters in the sludge of the slow.

decrepit reasoning, ruined discrepancy - a flow

under the thunder of nobody’s awe.


Noema and Oracle bound by the number:

past the Numeral Psyche - no one bids adieu.


this axial age runs the nothing of nature -

and the knowledge oraxial dismembers the gods


of a bygone matrixial rage.


this is Oraxiom: a poem of Nemo,

the axiom of grief - this was Oraxiom:

the mindless parerga of an anonymous thief.


know the shit of cogito, see the murder of non,

your lugubrious season comes to naught: your


oraxial grief is infinitely none.


philosophical workers walk the landscape of meaning and

past all the horizons any seer loses all vision alone - the sham

of all Oracles is now perpetually being undone by Axioms and

Oraxioms unilated in the black cosmosis of nobody’s non-


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