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“The interpreted insult could come back in being redirected into something different, soon interpreted into a correction made by the insulter.” – Modern Romanticism Why take offense at the insult if all is subjective, or if all is relative? The relativist notion, if to take Einstein’s theory through the metaphorical light, could mean that the…
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“The cycle of vengeance goes as such: playing catch with a ball that is hurled to the other, in the full expectation that it will be thrown back. Without smiles nor the friendly chatter, the tosses back and forth break the bones and burst the vessels of the other’s soul. Neither are stronger than the…
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“It is unity that portrays the repetition of educational experiences. Wisdom must be passed in the direction of creation, so as not to end order into chaos. It is unity that then portrays itself in what should not be distorted of either portrait or landscape into something less than recognizable. A face that can be…
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While trickles find a wayTo lakes, and beyondTo the tunnels that bend awayFrom the faces that move on.For winter that never leavesThese arms in the dust,Places upon journeys astray – From the final gatheringAs tears spill from the moon,Leaving petals against the gloom.To the storms, come breathing –
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How will the fog come to clearWhen these arms take free the north,Breaking the shadows against you, here?Love caresses the midnight, sereneIn the open mouthsBreathing kisses down throats,Walking in the slowness of glaciers,Weeping in the arms of the other. Some smile came to save you,Some man in his pockets to take you,While faces were forever…
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I fumble the lane,Waiting as I cry the path onward.When the smile keeps me sane,Keeps tears from carving this faceInto something less than recognizable,Captivation rains a scenery upwards.I lose the value inEverything displayed within – Before the uncovered shoreCould gift me with a song at morning.Before tempting silenceOverruns me towards tonight,I can halt these hands…
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Journey ahead nine feet acrossThe tenth of a mile at a loss,While the buckles fall free from your shoes,As a sailor passes his life to the noose.Sing for the siren’s gambit – Falling into the emptiest hemispheres.While each for the eyes becomes frozenIn the other’s depleting stare.Falling during the last ray of sunshineDuring the days…
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Colors will drain from the open wound. Upon the carpet, upon the spaces where sunlight brought in from open windows is shown warmest, as these marks are left without memory for why or when they were applied. They just were, because colors can be left behind. Color-blinded, some people are, though not ever blinded of…
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I Colors will drain from the open wound. Upon the carpet, upon the spaces where sunlight brought in from open windows is shown warmest, as these marks are left without memory for why or when they were applied. They just were, because colors can be left behind. Color-blinded, some people are, though not ever blinded…
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Some other torn placeWith scraps to the misinterpreted fields,At stages of grain for uncovered spaceWhere the smothered sunRevealed all of bleeding love.A nude back held the same streaks,The same lashesTorn towards Heaven, above –
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Keep sealing your mirrors, display to facesSo emptied of disposition towards you,While your wings face low,Giving nothing to ashes.How much can the weather renewAll the fog that deprives you of graces?From the lips that thirst,By the arms that hurt – Without the heart now stranded at the shore,Failing at the spoken euology.You keep trembling with…
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