romanticindeed
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How does a man, as me Realize what tears him apart, Until the moon shines through his open soul? Until the tears are all that is left to eat? Until the future brings no sunrise, Because all that is left to witness Is the sunset? I find freedom to be The incredibly lost feeling, Sailing…
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“The saying remains that we are not a reflection of a social realm, though it is true instead that society is a reflection of ourselves, of our own hands, as it is in our own making. Why men weep, said to be rare, is not a teaching by society. In fact, it is a result…
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“Much of the fault within egotism is the lack of being honest, out of a desire for personal gain. If the common saying for an artist or a creator is to say that no one can comprehend their work, then is the abstract artist merely the deceiver? If the common saying for abstract art is…
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In the arms of the moon I see a reflection deep in the white Of an emptiness. Her tears come down upon cheeks of the same hue Of no hue. I kiss them in the haze of a winter’s sunset For her to rise to blanket the night Without direction for her light. Just a…
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For what I beheld In the grasp of my stare Was the sheer beauty Of a thousand mornings and more. Like life never faded from her To create an evening’s solemn colors Of drowned shades. My love guides a current Out from her eyes, While I do not hold back My own that see the…
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Chapter One “From the eyes of an angel, the black one, there are no more wings to look at. It is even when the sun is out or the moon is full, that the light does not come to her. In the darkness, in her own, there is only the recognition of a sheer blackness…
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“If what is termed to be a social construct is never defined by who we are, then what are we? Is it not true that society is merely a reflection of who we are, not that who we are is a reflection of society?” – Anonymous In all that we are, we can only create…
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Paint the walls With the colors of your eyes. Find a path That is no longer broken, As I am your friend Who can hold you the right way Without a weak heart. Fall through the void, to find water To drink of your fill, To drink of what you spilled From a broken mind…
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Our light Originates from beyond the Heavens, Or so I am told. I cannot believe in anything higher than love. What leaves, besides the light from her eyes? What departs, besides the life that goes astray? Even in death, she kills me. I hang from her retinas, The bold light and me, To stare at…
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Every heartbeat For each uncertainty Leads me to you, broken down in embers Above a hearth, deep in the twilight. The scent of your petals Bleed colors about In the fragrance, in the elegance Of your entwining form, With a gait deep in the mire Beneath your dancing feet. It is but a memory deep…
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To be seated Stilled, on the porch Where rain lashes your false cheeks, Resenting a smile While you breathe sighs to the summer breeze. Your depression surrounds The violet shores, The bluest stares Of those who cast in your direction Sheer bewilderment. Wonderment holds you For a future that cannot snare you, Cannot capture you…
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I begged her song to be written for me, in what colors she could pour out, from a throat made of silver. Though, I simply waited while her sigh, the last one, drew out the silver breath from her lungs, against the fiery coldness of winter. Of what I saw, of that silver breath, against…
Modern Romanticism 