Life
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A face of much graceHas sought to look beyond herselfTo my soul,Where she discovered a corruption.A devotion,A respectFor her among the rest,Was something I held upon, for dearest whiles. Life leaves no inconsistenciesUpon beating hearts.Yet, that turns towards the misfortuneOf being uncertainWhen love drops its dew into the portrait. All of fear,Had been held so…
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Pain is the wellspring of all things creative. When it comes to writing, we create lists. We can jot down what troubles us, what moves us into tears that fall into hands. Why not throw those tears down onto the page, in the most metaphorical sense? What is the alternative to not writing the pain?…
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I will nowLick the tears away from those sorry cheeks,Nothing has looked so worn and bleak,Miserable beauty. Please allow meTo crown thee,To wed thee,If not of the ceremony, then of the forgivenessThat pools beneath our feet. I have loathed youFor no reason at all.I admire my guiltPerhaps more than I loved you. Your eyes glistenBeneath…
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She soars, as a phantomBled by distant romance.Upon the halo’s entrance,Smiles were eclipsedFrom her place in the skyTo the Earth where she dies. Float past meTo the fear you know so well.Fly to the wind, that embraces theeAmong all of you, so torn. I’ll kiss, though will not kiss, againThe hollow eyes that see only…
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No longer shed the tears,No longer shed the struggle.You collapse on knees as old as the stones behind you,That you drag.Though, your nakednessHas been something to kissFor beauty’s sake. Life has stepping stones,Not weights for shoulders. Love searches for paths in bones,Calling a ring up to ears that sting. Once I saw you undressed near…
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You feel the ropeWrapped around your feet?You feel the eyesPouring a stare upon your handsWhile all you holdAre the tears, from the night? Do you feel the loveBreathing over you,Bleeding beloved? Do you feel the burnOf my armsAgainst your cold skin? I grew to be your King,My darling woman,So that I may set you on…
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It is not to be swiped aside that we do not want a dog, nor a cat, nor a horse, to be mistreated, but what of criminals? A “right” is temporary when one abandons it. Like the dog, abandoned, and then “rescued” to be placed behind a cage, how does one see the inmate in…
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What I didn’t die for, was what I lived for. Though, who I loved perhaps caught my attention enough to want to lay to rest myself in her arms, and never awaken. There were lies caught in her hair. I had to remove them. There was pain so golden that she held upon, in a…
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Life has giftsOf dying oldGiven unto the youngWho treasure what is hungAbove in the sky, where tears fall loosely. Your eyes sungWith higher choirsThan ever did your mouth, breathing out your screamsTo my open ears,My open arms. Life is a peddled roadFull of moments, stolenAway from where cliffs offer the racing childrenWho shall not become…
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The power of reason has been on the side of science, when it is the thing opposite from love. Why is reason opposite from love? It is because reason dissects what all people are satisfied and content with. This is within the power of love, to be content with what one already has. Love, as…
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From my mouth, bellows howlsTo the moon, from the wretchedness I have become. From my eyes, there come steamAfter many long night in woeful screams. From my eyes, there soars the skiesAnd the creatures that sail upon my backDrink me, the martyr,The one who died for another.She lays floatingUpon a lake, with lifelessness to every…
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Do not cross the manWith suffering where he stands,For he is bound to break youAnd leave with tears you do not seeRoaring down his pallid cheeks. Do not accuse the manWhose smile is never shown,When all you see is the frownWhen he is always downAs the most visible self. His pain has eclipsed his mind,To…
Modern Romanticism 