#poets
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Yourself is the idleness.Gleams the sun, for your eyes.To decode each vessel in your mind,While the moon attempted to revive. Walk for the grief-filled mornThat drew the melting curtains.Walk in the sounds of birds,Losing feathers upon the mile.Our tears mixed to make the oceans,Our hands held to form the land,While floods were brief,Being broken without
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Enter the cloudsUpon the stage where nothingEver occurs.Withdraw the propsIn spaces where everythingWas meant to be real. Walk in the sand,Wield the earthUpon your bones.There is a collectivism to individualSuns that never set,While the brightness becomes clouded,While the earth wraps the moralsThat were loose to knowThe self had been wrong.
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Weeping among burial fields,Bandaged in a curtainThat opened with the open wound.Each cure stings,Every sickness reignsIn the throat,In the bowels,With the words I breatheTo let looseAs seeds for a burned meadow. With these hands that draw backFrom the ice that coats the eyes,From the skin that rubs off the cheeksPetaled with tearsFalling for years.
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I am an infantCarved from my own tears.I walk atop black earth,Fumbling through the whitest memories.A clarity I cannot ignore,A blank canvas, I abhor. I am a manWhose first steps were over a cliff.I have been dragged by a rope, backwards,Bleeding from dried lips,Requesting water from clouds,To become, from dirt.
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Close the chapter,Read the bookWithout the tragedy.The moral was pinpoint,As now the title awaitsFor a different ending. We all want, in this bleak worldTo die a different death,Without the flood of tears that give us nectarTo the fallen blossom of ourselves. Let us sing without song.Let ourselves yearn without the longWait, at the train station.There
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A vessel, a gleaming spiderwebDarkened by the colors of your skies.You grew to know each vine you fedWhile fierce in stare, torn and bled.I loved, while all did surroundWith the moon phases, trickles from cries – Pale and hollow to the bleak decay.To wield the stone, to skip the heartGrowing dim after each day.Senseless to
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Over stagnant currents,To breath, we follow each other’s streamTo the vivid image beneath the oaks,Growing gently the flavorUpon our lips,Creating tears that would strike a stormBack to being reminiscent. To wield your hip,Then to a heartOur eyes would skipIts beat upon the untrodden path,With steps we make,Unknowing to each breath we take.
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To choose In the attempt to ignore,While the waters keep flowingOutside the gatesTowards places we abhor.My wonderful nurseTo a child whose steps are firstOnto a ledge.
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Was cover more the embraceThan the open turbulence?Dark clouds next to you,Loyalty dreams in the desertTo never rob you of washed petals,So long as the tears, the watersCan lift us, not sink us. Beneath sheets of sky-lit dark,Fewest stars spread over the nighttime gleam.You will retreatTo your more covering cover,The concealment that bettered to revealAll
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Fall backThrough thickened ruin,Let the tears be your kissTo end the lifeWhose heart has gone, remiss.
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Her heart swells to the loosened tide,Revives to the reminderThat no pain came so simple,Left so bitterlyIn the hours it stayed. A few teardrops towards the galaxy,A world apart from the gleaming ocean,Fewest breaths or sighs of relief,While nothing could drinkA pure sustenance from her breast. A beating stone within bleeding flesh,Cold fingers run a
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To each blackened shape,A pencil can fill in the starsTo make the lightInside the hurt and still-lifeVoid upon the surrender. There is gentle music,Harbored screamsBled as tears over the wash of you. Reconcile,Keep us burying the independent flag,For one concealed in plainest immaculacy.
Modern Romanticism 