romanticindeed
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Allow me to dig deep Past the shield you have raised To keep, Me, from thee. Your eyes, A sentiment, to my disguise. For I’ve come to you, as the Devil allowed it. He waved his hand, As I came wandering To your glowing arms Beneath the sun, Among all pale hues. Your face Gives…
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Call us up In poorest sentiment, For we are mere innocents With our chandeliers high above Our burrowed brow. We glow as it, Startled in newness, Lifelike in our short temptations, For infanthood is a pleasantness To our weakness. You are God, With His face a set of thorns, To His son. Two eyes, drops…
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She rippled Across her whitened skin To his verse. She blew A kiss to his favored direction, To a mouth that knew not how to smile. She was his memory, For a man who knows what is lost Remains. “I am defeated, Before her,” Says the old man With tears in his eyes. Before the…
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Let the sea swallow up My bleeding self. Yet, when the sirens do come to elapse My painful sickness, I will sit here To count of the cuts Lining my wrists, beneath the gleam Of burning moonlight. Try as we might To lick clean the wounds, As vanity proves its maneuver. Your lips, A searing…
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“In the attempt to blend politics with art, it never is that feelings dominate logic. Whereas, it will be that feelings, being of chaos, remain as is, until logic cleans up the mess. Where a riot will leave a disaster, logic will clean up the wreckage. Where does the cleaner take the rubble? Does he…
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Fall Through broken arms Reaching the blood My eyes had carried. In your hair, The strands weave me to your fortune, As I surprise myself To the emptiness of all. Your face, A stream of petals. My arms Drop the leaves, shed from distance. Are you the spring to take me Apart from what I…
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I want to love Without facilitation. I want to suffer In your dedication. My eyes have seen the waters, Same as our land. My hands have felt the wet pages, Same as those documents Of our histories. Your eyes, A closed center. My eyes, An open universe. We spiral In a spun form Where dwells…
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“Since when has the belief become a fact? Since when did we need scientific proof for something as a belief? Since when did this occur, when even love itself needs no science for its existence, when it cannot remain around without faith or trust?” – Modern Romanticism A fact requires evidence. A belief, however, does…
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“Fear is the solitude of a human, in their attempt to dig into themselves to find what they either loathe or can accept. Though, what person in their total solitude has accepted what they despise, be that a wound that must close?” – Modern Romanticism A person in love, feels everything. A person who feels…
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“All fear, makes two individuals equal. Though, to what a person can know of what they fear, makes them compassionate. All prejudice does not originate directly from hatred, though from fear. As love and fear are the two primary emotions of a human, hatred is an extension off fear. Hatred is not even a primary…
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“Like love, hatred is felt at first glance. Sooner when we get to know a person, we discover more we can love, or more we can hate, and always more we can accept.” – Modern Romanticism
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I: “The Man of Realization” He collects his tears, Captures his fears In the mirror where shows his trembling Unable to cease Of the crease To his complexion, In the design To his kind. He could not love What is not to him Belonging above In the wilderness Called paradise. What a love He denies…
Modern Romanticism 