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“Availability to the short-term is negligence upon what is most available, pertaining always to the long-term. What is long term, being most available, is a person’s comprehension of their capability. To know or understand yourself is always to fathom your limitations. Then, to understand everything capable to a singular person is then a presence that…
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“What is Justice, if not blind? If a world considers the emotions of a wrong doer, then there will be praiseworthy wrong doers.” – Modern Romanticism Justice is blind. It should not consider the remorse of the criminal, because itself is kept upon the peace of society. The peace of society, that the criminal had…
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Paper-thin, worn inthe impeding night.Your lips had strands of hairas violin stringsto play this dirge. A lament before the kissupon the rock. Devotion, with the oceanrunning fromthese eyes, to my palms,in silent prayer. Steady me. Will you hold me? I was never the weight,while you werethe anchor. I was a simple feather, burningof bristles, worn…
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Water at the field,while eyes scream their sentiment. I can breathe,force the wind against you,while your lids liftas shutters from the winter storm. You are worn in my weather,bleeding from remaining tulipsas the petals have driedwith frost upon your lips. Final form, branded togetherin the song of defeat.Held close, at our feetare the roots that…
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Something seems to shake A heart for heartstrings, covered in Your scent, your memories make Skin to unfold, Embraces carved in Heaven’s hold. Something seemed to be The unending sign – While matches lit Your eyes, as the river carried – Your heart, while time was harried. Drawing the curtain, as clocks hit The faint…
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Waters rose, with the breath of the windwilting the shore, hoarding the petals.waking my eyes to the surrendering sunclashing at the fallto twin leaves that were on their path,apart from the run,a stride towards hearts undone. Every fall of an aching chest,rusted metal pours its redto freeze this back, over again. When winter is nude,covering…
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Not the train can bring a soul back to all burned meadows, the unyielding pain. With water for the leaves, eyes for the grace of a hip, a mother’s kiss upon tainted dew in all collected memories brought forth towards renewed sceneries. Love explores a day in life, weeping for half, then joy for the…
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“Art, the past. Art, the memory. Love, the art, because art cannot be forgotten. That art will bring the memories, painful and despairing, a deserved soft peace. Led into comfort, through art. Led into Heaven, through art. Art is eternal, because a memory cannot be forgotten. No, it can only be accepted. What changes the…
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“Love is alien. When do we find it? We do not, because love is not bought. Nor is love sold, because it is the gift. Although, love is capable of punishment the same as it is to forgive. Both of these are gifts, of punishment and forgiveness, since it is a judge. Love is a…
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Unexplored, to you, our eyes keep foretelling, keep telling of pain’s awesome history. Why do you walk, why breathe if the downwards slope slides your cries? Bent form and broken smile, sing, once again, for the while to devour the ocean. How much rain to drink? How much to the porcelain can be carved of…
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Tears, countless to be counted with fingers laced with boundless sentiment, to your flavor. For waters to savor, where you linger in an ocean I cannot remember, while hope is the thinnest blue strip, above the grains where we laid. We are mirrors to the other’s eyes, an open window carved from the glass of…
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Soft words, and hands cut from the glass, melted on the sand. Wallow, we are lifted to find each other’s eyes even in the rush of stars. Bloodbaths, fights that do not quit their place for eyes, cannot fit. Alone, to shower with the bucket, the rope tied at our feet. Collection, a slow dance…
Modern Romanticism 