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A reveling,A shower,A broken stem,Fewest petals that come to claimThe spots where no remainTo be there, as shadows. The iris of her,Watches.Her fingers possess each edgeAs colored of orchids,Dropping scents to a storm of grass,Reeds, and porcelain daisies. I run with the meadow’s touch,Taking glancesOver a shoulder where holds no consign,No submissionTo the woes of…
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Chestnut hair,Winding downAs the covering cloakOver your pale face,Tortured cheeks. The wind comes through,Mocking enough.I plow my way to your arms,Hurling snow, overboardTo see that which floatsUpon the icy meadows,The icy shores. Your stagnant expressionMoves only when I sigh,Only when I cry. Your subtle motionsTo the sounds of sorrow,Make you come from waveTo wave.You become…
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Hanging by a wire,Not falling from any higher,Your neckIs here, to be kissedBy the flame of tragedy.Your hand holds air,Your eyes do not stare,Your breath has fallen silent,Your wilted feet, remainTo hang, like your head. Upon the rope,I found youAs the stilled woman with no sound.What will remain of me,Keeping a heart that beats for…
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“One does not comprehend love, when they are unwilling to die for it. Live love. Breathe love. Sleep with love. When it leaves you, fall into the abyss.” – Modern Romanticism
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Lisa had walked. Now, she lays. Upon a back with her eyes to the sunlight. It is her ceiling. Such a golden wash of hues extends to her resplendent, ivory face. What woman, any like her, can be she who eclipses all the stars to make the pitch darkness? Then, to create a new sort…
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“It is that the art, in the manner of abstraction, must be the disorder relived of, and through, the artist’s mind. If an artist creates, then they replicate what is upon their mind. If what their mind faces, is disorder, then the canvas will be torn apart with the colors. What has been ‘created’, has…
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To that which freezes all divine breath,Of the sepulcher standing with flesh,She loves all that comes to armsMade of winter’s hanging boughs.She carves into herselfThe burns, the churns, of a wilted shrub.Of a heart that seeds itselfUpon the ground’s pithy,Of whispers come forcefully. She is kissedBy love,By something aboveHer breathing nostrils.While she looks up,The world…
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Travel about,With meTo see the curves of the Earth.You are the wedding with no vowsNeeded to accompany usOn this stilled voyage. I see clouds that radiate your skinIn the perspiration of searing highlights.I see the world born upon your shoulders,Adorned with the vastness of countless textures.Beauty wanders,Carrying petals in arms,Stems to walk upon,With love to…
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Hold on,Dear,Keep onThe tightness to a ropeAbout your bleeding wrists.The world has drenched youIn unguarded sleep.You are two eyes too heavy,Too despondentTo see the crown above your head,While you toil about in motionless dread. My wants,Our cures.Our bleedingFor what is pure.A love that knows no hideousnessOf reprieve.Why would we desire freedom?Why ever yearn to be…
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“Were the human to be adjusted to their own darkness, they’d indeed begin to love what they see. What they see, being themselves, never illuminated in a reflection. They are the beast who loves themselves, always aching, always famished. They chew upon their own flesh, turn themselves inside-out, and demand to be called ‘beautiful’. Yet,…
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“No man can be named a liar, when his critics are focused upon error of his appearance, rather than of his deeds.” – Modern Romanticism
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