Modern Romanticism

The aspect of romance, divided between the heartening and the thoughtful.

Poem – “Cling upon Me” – Romance

August 12, 2019
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Cling upon me,
For your immediate comfort.
You have wept with a shivering form,
And eyes that obey all contention.
A face that needs no bliss, as mine
Or your own, for the coming deprivation.

Disease me, your wounds of many fields.
Kiss me, O woman of much gathered,
Suffer not, when the world comes tumbling
Upon our bosoms, so wide and heavy.
We are but deformed infants,
Birthed without care.

When we scream, who will hear us?
When we strike, who will we hit?
When we bleed, who catches such drops?
When we feel, who feels us?

We are so much the crime, the fear for a world,
That turns inside out, to see itself.
We are the parasites for them,
As we care for them.

Oh, beauty.
You have oceans too deep for this world,
And eyes that would strangle its own veins.
Deny me all, so that I may see me maddened,
Make me quiver as you do,
So that I may break your fall.

Poem – “My Dear, We will come to be” – Romance

August 10, 2019
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Fancy yourself dressed,
In the fanciest gown,
Decked with the rubies of a life once loved,

In all your aromatic kisses,
And eyes that glow in the haze of a summer’s night.
Beauty! Now, dance for me.

Find me in the garden,
With thy roses plucked,
And thy breasts revealed,
I find your loneliness a thwarting thing,
I find no pleasure,
From the previous day.

Give me imagery, dear one.
Give me wine, dear one.
Bend at my feet, and I’ll see into thine eyes,
Made like pearls, embedded in thy skull.
Oh, love. We have been made holy,
Upon God’s temple.

I desire no one else, but thy face upon mine,
No one else, but your kisses I smear.
You have a face, colored by ivory,
And tears that I drink, drained from cheeks
That seem to quiver in the dark.
My dear, have we come to be?

Find me in the garden,
Where the grass caresses my toes,
For I will see thee married,
To me, for me, upon me.

Poem – “As You Fall Over Me” – Romance

July 22, 2019
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Breathe one more time,
For the wretched thief,
Whom you’ve loved, and who steals away
The purity that you’ve locked away.

I fall in beckoning to your form and life,
In witnessing your eyes in bright light,
In breathing your scent of the widest sea,
Of who you are, the woman of my eternal dreams.

Am I to make to make love with emptiness?
You have such vivid details to explore:
So beautiful, are the marks made upon your neck,
Made by me, in our kisses of roaring pleasure;
I breathe into you, the much needed fulfillment,
To how your heart once was shattered.

I so love you, among all the fairest angels,
Death clings upon your tresses,
And love upon your lips.
Beautiful eyes of vivid gleam,
And arms that trail the longest paths,
Upwards to Heaven, and never to Hell.

I face you, in our reckoning,
Beaming with scarlet, from words cast from a reddened mouth.
I am plain in my simplest task, to undertake a love from a bold world,
Come find me, if you dare to undergo the same.

I will be in gardens of lust,
Making poetry of love.

Words of Wisdom – “A Woman’s Simplicity” – 7/20/2019

July 20, 2019
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“The woman’s body is the land, inevitable to grow the flower that smells of rotten flesh, or the flower that remind one of a fragrant meadow. Of all men and their belief that a woman should be decorated, it is a false belief. Of a woman’s mind, and to say that a man cannot comprehend a woman, is only in the state of the woman’s love life; for she had undergone the relationship ‘once upon a time’ when a kiss was first given to her; and upon the second relationship, she will remember her first kiss with her first man. For each man who says that a woman should be ‘treated as the queen’, he is to say that he’ll never love the peasant. A world with men who love a woman like the queen, will envision the queen adorned in rubies and emeralds; and this follows the mindset of never knowing the ‘reminder’; and the reminder of a first true love, is the reminder of what was true to her.

The simplicity of a woman is in that reminder. A beloved, who had once given a woman the false belief in love, and she will stray from love’s course to be distracted. What is love for a man to the woman, besides to take her by the legs, so that she does not leap from him to another distraction? She is fed in wanderlust, and temptation, that it is the man’s duty to say that she will stay, and never roam. Love is this, and a woman’s ‘reminder’ is her comfort of what matters. Appreciation and acceptance are her longings.

A woman will find that appreciation and acceptance among distractions that relate to the lack of loyalty. It is simple with the notion of, ‘As a man’s eyes divert, so will a woman’s face turn red. As a man’s eyes remain diverted, she will disappear without his knowledge’. His disloyalty is her disappearance.

Protection is possession. Possession is protection. Only the idiot man cannot comprehend a woman.

Such ‘idiot men’ are the men who will undertake the battlefield, and cultivate this land and territory with more blood; this, or they will attempt to spread diamonds upon the flesh that has itself, spread over this rotting land, as the battlefield. A drop of truth, a simple reminder, to what a woman desires, is her reminder of what had felt like truth, to strike her heart with the arrow, and make her drop to her knees. She is loved by the man who cleanses the entire battlefield with that reminder, that ‘drop of truth’, for it does not take a flood of what will create further disaster, to clean the entire form of her.”

Poem – “Beloved; Your Tears Mean the World” – Romance

July 19, 2019
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Let us find, within each other’s eyes,
The horrid filth from a faceless world,
We see it, and do not adore it.
We have it, the love between us and it.
And we watch,
While we glide,
Among clouds and birds, alike.
We feel, with empathy that collides,
Into our unfurled desires,
The desire to shape, the desire to mold.

You have a face that breathes the newest note,
Of one remembered afternoon.
For my dear, you are far simpler than when most men,
Could have you upon their knee,
And believe,
That, to offer you infinity,
Is at all the material,
Of external,
I comprehend, of your heart, of boldest red,
That what will please, is only a simple reminder.

And in seeing this world,
Upon its hill of perplexity.
It is mounted, and seemingly distorted,
Love has been cast off from its slope.
My love, with your arms alike to the blades of grass
Were they to turn white;
And having eyes,
Like rubies,
Where they to turn green;
That is since I see blood, upon snow,
And blood, upon the evergreen,
And breasts that curve like twin moons.

It is so, that I see beauty merging with hatred,
I see discontent,
I see the misery of faces, and their torment.
So I begin to see your tears.

Your empathy rides a fine steed,
Over those hilltops and down to the deepest
Part of the eternal river.
Oh! Such simplicity is in that eternity.
It is the reminder,
The reminder to when we first kissed.

Upon the overlook,
Where we fused memory with the present,
We were lost in the eyes of the world,
And I asked you,
“Should we block them out,
For they make me paranoid?”

A smile, and a descending tear,
Was all your answer,
To assuage that fear.

Let us not press torment into our bosoms,
We should only make what we will of any moment,
And so I grasp,
I grasp a breast,
That now glows as bright as the sun,
And your face glows ever brighter,
Than the pitiful sun.
Beloved! Merciful beloved! Allow me to see,
What awaits between the gates,
So that my key may unlock the contents!

I enjoy,
So that I may savor,
The feast,
For me, the beast,
That will kiss,
And will drown,
In the widest tides,
And that eternal river.

You are as beautiful as all women,
Though, have been selected by me,
To be among the many free,
And to be able to see,
The love I have created so you shall not flee.
No more to plea,
No more to weep,
Now, merely sleep,
And open up once more for my key.

Poem – “The Face of Inspiration” – Romance

July 18, 2019
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For what I behold,
A Face of Inspiration,

Gained from who I love,
And all I love,
Being she,
And her heart, made of gold.

Behold, before thee,
Beautiful woman,

Who belongs to me.
There is much weeping upon my face,
My eyes once showed tragedy,
And now they behold the highest joy.

Deny nothing,
We’ve become the everything.
Your face is there for my quill,
And the paper beneath the hands.
Drown your eyes in this face,
And make us both expressive.

Our marriage shall become
The unity of unity.
All graces shall imagine,
The destiny we’ve long embraced.
I’ll not fathom any tragedy,
Nothing, for we’ll not be apart.

Words of Wisdom – “The X and Y Chromosomes” – 7/16/2019

July 16, 2019
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“Comprehension, in the face of love, is the single ingredient for love’s timely unity. Comprehension is the offering of empathy. Empathy is offered for the vulnerable someone, and to ‘comprehend’ the vulnerability of someone, through empathy, is to achieve that unity. A man attempts to comprehend a woman, and fails through incompletion of that comprehension. A woman attempts to comprehend a man, and only succeeds through a failed analysis, because curiosity was her only motive. A man sees insects. A woman sees giants. A man must look downwards to see a reflection in a puddle, or in a woman’s eyes. A woman must look only forward to see a reflection through a mirror. Though, when a woman looks upwards, she sees the thing she is curious over. The face of a man. The face of God.

A man possesses an X and Y chromosome, with the X chromosome of him being what he fails in terms of comprehension to a woman, in terms of incompletion to that comprehension. His Y chromosome allows him to rise, both of sexual and egotistical nature.

A woman’s dual X chromosomes, creates both nature’s of love and lust. A woman’s nipples are meant to stick further out from her abdomen, when she’s not pregnant, to symbolize the nurturing, the compassion, and again, the empathy. It is to say that a man will first notice the nipples, the breasts, or rather, the ‘zone of attraction’ when she is at the ‘right weight’ to ever be attractive. This is to say that in a ‘world of lust’, a man will be forced to see what sticks further out than the nipples, and that is, the so-called ‘love-handles’, and the belly, when she is not pregnant. This is to say that such a ‘world of lust’ is a world of use, is a world of sculpture, upon flesh, where the ‘slaves’ are still slaves, though are ‘freed slaves’. When a man sees the breasts before the abdomen, when the woman is not pregnant, a man notices objective attraction, and we then live in a ‘world of love’, not lust.

What was written above, lastly, ties the very thing between men and women, and that is the X chromosome. A woman’s breasts are the symbols of compassion and empathy. Connection and unison, and a man has nipples, too. Love connects, not lust, objectively speaking.”

Words of Wisdom – “The Differences between Men and Women” – 7/16/2019

July 16, 2019
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“In what a woman denies, it is the aspect of devotion. She still yearns for it. In what a man denies, it is his strength, the willpower he must possess to return to her. When we relate a ‘Second Coming’ of Christ to these differences, we behold denial and yearning. A woman’s lover, was Christ, in a sense, who took her virginity. As a savior, a man must return, be the man to create that ‘Second Coming’ in the sexual context of what the two words symbolize, after returning to her. Christ, in all his saving grace, will not return, until yearning overwhelms denial. In the same sense, love will not return to a world, until the yearning for love overwhelms the denial of love’s importance.

Does a man leave, or has the instinct to leave, should the lock of marriage not be upon both Man and Woman? It should be assumed so, for the ‘guessing’ behind a man, will cause him to be the Christ who drops the cross, never carries the ‘burden of Original Sin’, and will not return until the woman’s yearning overwhelms her denial; and, as well, the man’s ‘faith in his strength’, akin to Christ’s ‘faith in humanity’, overwhelms his ‘doubt for his strength’ or his ‘denial for his strength’. For how could Christ carry the cross, the burden, were it not for his Mother? And, at the same time, how could a man ever carry his life forward, if it were not for the silvery glass of a woman’s eyes, that he’d see both her soul and his own reflection?”

Poem – “The Guttural Dissatisfaction” – Romance

July 16, 2019
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I fled to the furthest ends
Of your horrid form.
Where beauty forms endless trails,
Alike to your bleeding heart,
Where veins softly flow,
The vermilion blood, of a tired afternoon.

Where love has carefully nourished,
The grandest concept,
Of what we behold
In each’s eyes.

I am the man with runaway regrets,
Has slept peacefully on his folded shame.
Has cried the days off,
In a total feeling of despair.

Beneath trees and above several peddles,
I begin to love with an astonishing ecstasy.

I fail my own breath,
As I curve your form.

Loss is grand when I shape it so,
Disease and wreckage for the weak,
I love thee with all my smallest heart,
As I give to thee,
My truest self.
And then I ask, “When did love ever begin?”

Poem – “Famous Trail of Perfume” – Romance

July 15, 2019
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Between thy dancing arms,
Reigns the crudest form of symmetry,
Though, in its capturing,
I have made peace with an enemy.
I said ‘farewell’ to a mother in longing,
And threw my arms around a father in loathing.
I gave milk to children,
And sickness to daughters.

I waltz in arms with another,
Her face of violet eyes,
And rosy cheeks.
With a grace to a neck,
And a perfumed scent,
I am enticed!
She grips and she falls,
Through my universe.

She is still so listless,
As I dance with one phantom shell,
What a puppet I’ve formed to be life!
A making of a woman,
The sculpture of her form,
A failing of my sanity.

Make this moment matter,
In dastardly frailty.

We are the framed wild ones,
Among rotten corpses.
With ants eating at our eyes,
And children crawling with cries,
To our beaming faces,
Or rather, mine; whilst yours hangs as lifeless.

We fall upwards,
And drown in necrosis.

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