Modern Romanticism

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

Poem – “The Flesh that now Guards Me” – Romance

August 7, 2019
romanticindeed

When upon the time in a distant romance,
When love once guarded her form,
When a frame had guarded a painting,
When my arms had guarded truth,
I knew for once in my life,
That my home is not this home;
It is the space in her heart,
And upon a face, where quivers an aching smile,
I would die to know her, again,
And make beauty remember me for the while.

Death has shaped her space,
A black heart has now formed tendrils,

Corruption has made its presence,
Am I still in love, or have I made death?
When modesty once placed itself about her,
As the love I made to guard her,
It was always a remembrance,
It was always a field of achievement,
It held a texture alike to those cheeks,
The ones I kissed adoringly.

My beauty, make we weep,
Beneath the moon of the evening melting
Of its silver coloring, in where I repeat,
“Make we weep! Beloved, make me weep.”

I breathe dust now over your shoulders,
And find merriment only among petals,
Where your tresses caught the air.

Flesh now guards my skeleton, and I’ve grown old,
Like the robes loose about the monk,
Like the hair loose about a woman,
Like the tears loose about the eyes,
Like the serpent coiling about the lie.

Love, with a breast I cup in one hand,
And your face in the other,
Would you rise if I kissed the mouth,
That said we weren’t worth the long road?

Poem – “Blinding Tears, and Blinding Rage” – Depression

August 1, 2019
romanticindeed

I am seated, with my head in my palms,
And I ponder to myself over what I’ve lost,

Besides another tear.

Another tear,
Another flake to the ashes,

Another memory to the burial,
Another fragment from the heavy weight
Seemingly lost, and now,
The Earth possesses it.

Of blinding tears, and blinding rage
That seems to be all I feel.

As my emotions are frenzied,
Between these two voids,
These two bleak confusions,
These two natural diseases.

Failure stings as much as it bleeds.
Wounds are nestled on my heart,

Guilt has wrapped itself
Around my tired form.

My form, vivid in all its gleaming,
Of all wounds with ragged flesh.

I would never be proud,
Of anything I’ve conquered,
On either fertile shores,
Or watery deserts.

Love once made its way to my mind,
By a singular path
;
It drew so many marks,
On where I allowed it to roam.

And now a mirror blocks my path.
It is my own path;

And a path, with such a mirror
That shows my face.
Revealing death, I see two eyes like orbs of steel,
Made present in what they reveal.

A face of ruby, and a heart of stone.
A man of no mercy upon his tired body.
I draw emptiness around,
Like a frigid cloak taken from a tundra,
Love, at my left hand,
Death, at my right.

And I collapse them, together.

Excerpt from “The Roth Overlook” – Blog Author’s Novel – “The Taking of Purity”

July 22, 2019
romanticindeed

Her hands tremble as she stumbles over a flurry of inquiries, “Was our touch worthy? Was what I offered enough to relieve you and provide the elixir you were seeking, or was it merely fodder for another one of your papers? Am I the inspiration for your work, like a muse is to an artist, or am I truly your beloved? What am I to you?”

Evidently, these are questions that breathe loathing upon Bastian, so he somewhat recoils from its devastative emanation. He looks at her, attempting to understand the many fractures of her soul and their alignment with each other, as if to witness the vividness of her torment in its entirety.

She has been the onlooker of his misery! She has also been the subject of his studies. In being his subject, she has encompassed the innocence of a young girl, and that innocence has transformed into something far more hideous. Ignorance. A truth that is not often voiced. Ignorance in such a case is not ever innocence. As innocence as a form of being safe is always denial to the dangers around the endangered. Ignorance is replaced by knowledge, as Anita had offered herself up to Bastian’s altar, as a virgin.

Anita may as well have been raped.

Encouraged, but also forced to sacrifice her purity for the sake of what she thought to be true love. A wholehearted intent, but the penetration that was involved was likened to being knifed by a dagger. Blood was involved. An object of hardness was involved. A knife of steel. A knife of rubber. Only the former has the intended effect.

She was the demon for his studies, the little playmate for the paper, written with a pen that was akin to the god between his legs. White paper like the purity that is now erased, and the colors that are now drawn on Anita’s countenance are no longer childish.

What had been more important to Bastian, in what he wished to conquer. It is a confusion that emanates the fumes of madness. A sinister notion of what makes soldiers become longing for the bed at home.

Poem – “I Believe in Beauty as a Forethought” – Romance

July 22, 2019
romanticindeed

Make of the torment,
What thou will,
Make of it.
The priests call cues of negligence,
Make faces ripe with consequence.
And deliver judgement,
Like God in deliverance.
Oh, woman! A passion of mine.

A careful consideration,
To what may be beautiful
,
Has long been beautiful,
Beside me, in her endearment.
Beauty makes apples,
And apples for breasts.

I am tired of loathing
The external,

Of my sordid disposition,
Of my farewell declaration.
Of my mimicked beauty,
Of all you see of me.

Let me lick thy throat,
For guilt has overthrown me,

From the crown of achievement.
Deceit! Give me wielding,
Of all immeasurable beauty.
Have I North before South?

Have I lips before groin?
Have I mind before loin?
Lovely is her exterior, so vivid with life,
Aromas, and the fertility of the soil.
Of ocean breeze, and Autumn leaves.
Of stillness in death, and stillness in love.

I make of her, what I have always willed,
Until the day I dine on her form
.

It is a form of violet ashes, and much to be mused.

Poem – “Face Me, Twisted and Broken” – Grief

July 13, 2019
romanticindeed

Face me, where you stand,
As your face shines the warmth,
Upon my disastrous form.
My body is heavy
With the pain of illness.
Disease has struck me,
Like the stick upon the drum,
Like the madness upon the mind.

My eyes are seen in yours,
As they too, swim in a lake of tears.
Do not be so idle,
When faces look upon yours,
To cast pity in your direction.
They are only in the attempt,
To be kind,
For they wish to offer a heart.

Take in yourself,
The solidness of a new morning.
My beloved,
Your face is so very wet,
With the tears.
But, I implore you!
Do not blame
Yourself, for yourself is too new.

There is much sickness in me.
Embrace me once more
Upon this rotten bed.
Let the tears be sweet,
And the kisses deep.
Show me not this pain.
But, make me a blessing,
For your heart.

Poem – “My Lady, with Crooked Smile” – Romance

July 11, 2019
romanticindeed

Falter, as I see fit to falter,
Smile, as you’ll see you’ll ought to smile,
Dance as the moon changes shape,
Fall as you’ll do upon the day of your death.

Beauty is over you,
It has run off with the next,
The next admirer.
Make me a flower,

Covered in ivory melt,
Make me a bed,
Whisked from danger’s threads.

Sing me a song,
Oh, fairest damsel,
Sing me that song.
The one where glaciers shine rotten
Specks of unspoken misery.
The one that bleeds like you do.

Tell me with truth,
Am I in love with something of worth?
Love has always been a shape,
Not a torn smile,
But a vivid one.
Never that which I could not perceive,
To be the shape of a scar,
The one that I’ve not ever recognized.

We are lovers with nothing bared,
We are sinners with no one paired,
Between our arms,
With every alarm.
Each of our sights,
Are bred for the heated love,
One that is most beautiful,
When we share in our plights.

Tell me truthfully, without the smile,
Are you cunning, or are you truthful?

Poem – “Guarantee me Death” – Suicide

July 11, 2019
romanticindeed

Pain, I have endured,
And pain, I never silenced.
Pain has always been company,
My neighbor, my friend.

Pain has always flowed,
Behind me,
To show me,
The sands of a thirsty shore.

The disease called pain,
Has been my cure,
Has been my reminder,
To who I am, the miserable one.

Fate has always controlled me,
Made me one with a sadness,
Fate made me loathe,
As hate made me roam.

My body is a pile,
Atop another pile.
My eyes seem to sunder,
The world into oblivion.

My fortune has increased,
But my denial has increased.
My death will prove myself,
The coward, who betrayed pain.

Poem – “My Face is White as Death” – Grief

July 11, 2019
romanticindeed

As you stand when I lay
And die over me.
Tresses so bleak and heavy,
As the newborn moon,
As tears rain from a face,
To see my face barren and white.

As white as death,
As crude as this soil.
I am wrapped in a box,
For your weeping.

I was in pain,
And now, I see your pain.
Tears fall like the universe,
Should it ever collapse.

Oh, love! Deign yourself not to cry,
Over my ending.
It is torment that you endure,
Is it not?
My love, with so many tears that drop,
Become selfish for once, and step back.

Your empathy is so high,
And I am so still.
Cold and dead,
In soil, I call a bed.
Death has not been kind to you,
Though, has been kind to me.

I feel no pain,
No sorrow, but I am the witness,
To how you weep,
To how you seep,
Those tears, from between your fingers.

I am the soil,
To which you drop your rain.
The death,
To which you let fall your pain,
Upon me, the dead man,
Who has left you, the deadened woman.

Poem – “A Few Loosened Sobs” – Romance

June 10, 2019
romanticindeed

Oh, lovely! I am rotten,
With grief tangled in my hair.
Beside your stilled corpse,
Where I stare,
Is a seat to place myself.

I have been weary
And torn.
Broken and born, with a seeming frailness,
“Emptiness” is my name
Written backwards.

I loved with a stain on my heart.
And it was you,
Who pressed that mark
Against its warm and hot surface.
Why am I in love with grief?

Why am I in love with tragedy?
The futility, of it all?
Is there no more to us,
Than for me to see yourself,
As a withered pile of limbs, and feel the numbness?

I am so alone,
Now that you are gone.
I feel grief like it’s my friend,
As I have lost a love, whose rays were once
Alike to the moon, and its silver threads.

Beauty was to your face,
With the many hues of red.
And now, there is only the stark hue of white.
There is no longer any color
To mask this certain death.

I walk now to the noose,
To see if any tears are left to lose.

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