Beauty
-
Of flame to forge,A love to dance upon waves,And swim beneath currents.You carried the most heated words,And breathed them upon my naked guilt.Of all waters to swallowThe buildings of Heaven,Structures meant to collapse,At the slightest movementOf a love unmeant to die. You died,Because I spoke words without leaves,Without the spring to renew it.Now you have…
-
I buried thee in a grave,For my failure to simply save,The conditions that plague your feeble form,The additions of all terrible inconvenience,A body crippled to beEvery page of our shared tragedy.Love is now at its knees,Calling me down to see,What is only a belief. I cannot truly accept,Your loss from myself,Here I kneel as though…
-
I run around where I have seen,All where she has mustered up herself.Two little petals upon isolated cheeks,Two dynasties upon a feared woman,And I would kiss them away,Were she to never draw herself away. Two legs,Like two pillars of porcelain.Two eyes,Like embedded rocks of blue.And a haze of green is all I’ve seen,In forests dressed…
-
The firmament of a woman,An idle focus,On ever-idler blood,Her heart holds the face of swelling sadness,A music that describes miseryIn untold tempests,With waves that roar against her form,And tears that beckon their coming upon simple cheeks.What flame has been extinguished?What pair of eyes no longer look? What seeming fault,Have I been elsewhere to overlook?What denial…
-
I’d be compassionate and merciful enough, to hold back a woman from such a diseased realm, as the “political world”. It is never a “restriction from rights”, in my mind, as a woman can do all she wishes. Though, if something like a man’s compassion, or his way with mercy, or his way with empathy,…
-
Threads weaved about, curves among blessed curves,A small pup in your shadow,You’ll scorn the thing to its hiding,With lips made of scarlet stripes.To some painter with his wielded brush,To some sculptor with his hands in the white,To each golden bit of skin, with golden highlights,In satin and velvet, there is you, with face full of…
-
Herein is a sickness that succumbs the mind to its brutality. The addiction. The drug, as the addiction, is the intake of sheer pleasure. Wherefore does not a song, during today’s time, speak of love to be a drug, and not the cure to woe? Love cures the heart, whereas a drug plagues it with…
-
Like the sun, soon when it rises,Up towards an area developed in noontide,Where contentment should breach itself into life,I feel but the sun, as well, crawling up my stomach,To a heart made of love,To a heart injected in the confusion,To this massive feeling.As the sun rises, shows its life,So does my heart,Though, the pain surges.…
-
God adores thee, as He sits beside me,Upon my dying bed of agony.My disease has been this welded momentWelding my heartstrings through themselves.Breathe into me,Your life, as a kiss,God will hold thy feeble hand,For I am an old man,With many sorrows.And you are His woman, His nuptial being. God has loved you more than me,God…
-
Play for me,Dear, struggling woman,Though, our patterns be great,They seem to turn upon their own command.I found love upon your own throne,Upon your own grace,Upon your own face.Tears struggle mad to free themselves,From daily confinement.Bruised and scorned by the sun,Patterns grow immense, in all levels of sadness.I see futures born from all variousMoments in sickness.…
-
Blanket and quilt,Heart shape and guilt,Collide upon the other,In merry do-overs.Blessed by thee,Your tranquil beauty.All so personal to describe,My heart, in its redness,And in bluest tears,I bellow out such oldest rhymes. We have faced the world over,In truest terror.You were upon the strength, I knew to uncover youFrom, to see the area beneath yourself,And to…
-
“Each human individually places their ugliness to the past, everything they dislike about themselves to the past; though, when they begin to be encouraged to discover themselves, accept themselves, they are within the act of reliving what they dislike about themselves, and they never improve. To see the past as something to put behind, a…
Modern Romanticism 