Poem – “Let None Worship her” – Love Poetry – 6/20/2021

You were not meant to be
A god’s pet or a priest’s belief.
You were meant to be reborn
In arms as broken as yours.
Strained wrists, palms are torn,
While waters exit from eyes
To see the same sort of skies.

While the world uncovers
Shredded skin, dusted flesh
Beneath sheets atop bed of death –

Love reveals a grave reality
That nothing sworn to can be symmetry.

Her insecurity weeps the pages to turn
To an ending as disappointing
As the forgetful beginning.

Still to love for the stagnant
Arrangement in everything elegant.
Even as winter sits with patience
Upon her shoulders, filling presence –

While these arms cannot be mended.
Lift her veil to see diamond-
Shaped tears, pledging a course
Towards trembling lips.
Kiss her in the cold air.

Never mend her, never send her
To anything blissful
As an occupied Heaven.

Philosophy – “Why a Man’s Rage is his Weakness” – 5/3/2021

“It is not so unbecoming of wrath, itself, to be the curtain above the waters. The flaming shield to the tears, for this is where a man protects himself, in deception. A man lies to himself, in self-preservation.”

– Modern Romanticism

Lies. It is the word a man clings to, whenever he shall be enraged.

Gentleness. The gentleman is one who no longer lies to himself, and in turn, confuses no one else. A man, or gentleman, is honest, is warm, and not ever blazes with the rage to show he cannot confess. His pleas, his darkness, would be hidden behind wrath, concealed by this burning light. No warmth from it, for it blinds, and does not allow another to see the hurt.

And yet, why does a man find addiction in this tempest of rage? It can only be because he’ll cling to strength, even if a false one. Through anger, a man deludes himself to have found strength. Though, they are the shackles upon his wrists. And, he has forsaken all else, perhaps of those he loved, that once gave him true strength.

Love blinds, though it is anger that conceals hurt just as burning oil can be atop a body of water. Love is blinding to the individual, though the burning oil upon the waters can stop us from ever drawing near to the beast. All of hurt that is beneath the flame can be drawn from as a bucket to a well, though who’d trust the beast this much? Who’d love the beast this much? Who’d not hate the beast, for all their supposed worth?

A frozen mountain, waiting to melt, to roll down the tides that were never bled out, from the man, is all to wait for. Though, who would endeavor to lend a hand, before the hurt, that rips the insides apart of the man, would cause him to end it all?

Into the void, he’d jump, before anyone else can find him.

A man’s lies. Or, a man’s confession. For deception, or for unveiled truth, there is this. There is the loss of himself that could be, once more, discovered. He’ll jump within the void, to find it, though shall never come out.

It is to strength that a human, of one who has been there, resided within the dark, can indeed share light if they were brave enough. Who lies, except for the Devil? Who harms, except for those flames of Hell? What is beneath Hell, save for humanity?

Love Quote – “My Loyalty” – 4/10/2021

“Is there any wonder why I live? Is there any answer to why I love? For her, I will speak the words of bravery. For her, I will become frail. For her, and for no one else like her, I will break myself a thousand more times, so that she lives.”

– Modern Romanticism

Controversial – “How Women are Used as Fodder for Power Schemes” – 3/9/2021

“All of politics is born around a hardened structure, with no stains made from tears, no compassion involved without the stead of deception. Involve softness, and its truth is the reveal behind what any politician attempts to conceal.”

– Modern Romanticism

It is the unfortunate nature of this world, that a woman is the essence of what can be manipulated, over what is needed to be manipulated, down to the last child whose mind must be changed from innocence to derangement. Her form, the clay. Her mind, the secondary virginity. The way the world sculpts a woman to see the world, is how all shall view the same “image”.

Lust is the very nature of convenience. Therefore, for everything unneeded to be, a woman is used for the painstaking task of destroying the reputation of certain targets.

Tell it of a man who has an ongoing scandal. Then, why not bring on the slew of women to simply lay the final nail upon his casket, burying him alive under the media’s heated breath of toxicity? If that is convenient for the opposing politician, then why not? If a woman, to your ordinary politician or the political world, deems it within some personal regard to unearth a certain “softness” to make his opposition soaked by it, then he’ll do so. He’ll do so, simply to show the world that truth is somewhere, though just not upon the surface. Love a woman, and then she is nothing like this. Use a woman, and then she can by anywhere she deceives herself to have the freedom to place herself.

Though, should a woman be hated for any of this? No. Her influencers should, instead, be loathed down to everyone’s last fiber of their being.

A woman, beautiful, though made hideous by each filthy hand that wants to twist her image, to then absorb it into their own power structure. Though, one cannot fault the man by how much of an idiot he is. For he is a child, outside of a woman’s embrace, as he is also a fool within it. A fool, a man is, with or without a woman. A fool for a woman, or a fool for without one, as this is his nature.

In this unchangeable world, of our own, to the constant changes about it, it is through a woman’s endless fog of alteration that power finds its necessary to churn every aspect of the world, through herself. To mold the world, power must mold a woman over it. To change a woman’s mind on what is powerful, the world must be altered by previous generations of women. Power does not “employ” a woman for her skills, though for her image in being able to cause constant changes.

And, again, hatred to the woman is unneeded, of course. However, hatred to her slave-drivers, is necessary.

Philosophy – “The Primary Differences Between Men & Women” – 3/7/2021

“Whether for contentment or discontent’s sake, no greater amount of responsibility eases the supposed necessity to remain strong. People always break upon what they lack, never for what they shoulder.”

– Modern Romanticism

How is it a man reveals himself to shoulder all responsibilities? There is only one reason. A man is innately stupid. To want to tackle the world, to change what is discerned by him to be flawed, makes him unwilling to accept that certain things must be viewed through a lens of sameness. It is by no fault of the workforce to hire a man for being himself. Instead, it is by the fault of a man in being stupid enough to be this ambitious, that the workforce would employ this idiocy.

It is by a woman’s simple curiosity to a man’s stupid actions and mindsets, that she no longer shows restraint for indulging in it, herself. No person is “equal” on the matter of being an idiot, same as when no two people die ever at the same exact moment.

It cannot be believed that a woman is content with the increase of excessive responsibility. Though, it can be believed that a woman is better at concealing what could make her content, which would be a lifestyle of simplicity. As well, it can be correctly assumed of the workforce, itself, that it employs the idiocies of people, for advantage’s sake. The workforce, being a system of its own and being unchangeable, employs what changes of people, for only its own betterment of a collection of tools. This “collection” is known as “diversity” among the workforce, as so many would believe that this factor of “representation” expresses a workplace’s growth.

Advantage, from the mindset of an employer, will deceive another to believe that their sheer representation is for the benefit of the company. The only benefit that comes from this is by way of a collection of tools, in contrast from perhaps a garage that displays upon the wall a very limited amount.

Though, a man is as stupid as a woman is curious for his idiotic nature. And, rather than nurturing him when he is not a moron, she would rather indulge in the extravagant decadence of his stupidity. Instead of nurturing him, to create the balance between idiocy and intelligence, a woman of the modern times would rather belong to his nature of being a fool.

It is why a man is told to never weep, because he must stand upright, in the effort of remaining stupid by doing so. As it is, a man questions why he still even walks. This is, again, the foolish nature of himself, of being alive. The dead man is the soldier who fought for something. Whereas, the living woman to the dead man is perhaps still envious of his reasons to live, rather than for why he succumbs to his idiocy.

Philosophy – “Why a Man is Weakened, not Weak, when Weeping” – 2/20/2021

“No wall is indomitable. To each inch that covers one, there might still be a crack, enough to shatter the entirety.”

– Modern Romanticism

Just as people might believe that age guarantees wisdom, it is the reverse. Wisdom guarantees age. As in, to apply wisdom, means survival is in the independent hands. To be wise, means that the second mistake, after learning for the first time, will not end this train of survival. We mean to people who shouldn’t make the same mistake twice, that their immaturity might be their burial. Same to weep, when the greatest weakness is to believe there is none. An immaturity as this, opens up all weaknesses. It opens. We release. We weep.

To weep, after much to keep concealed, is much like a dam being broken. It was weakened. A mistake having been made, to then the person ignoring it, is the immaturity to believe it won’t break them, when they believe it hasn’t weakened them. The second mistake of the same kind, will break them. It will force them to no longer ignore what they’ve concealed.

To a man, weeping is much like dying. To lose strength upon who he protected, what he held upon his shoulders. Being weakened, does not refer to weakness. To weakness, one has to be inherently so. Though, to be weakened, means that recognition for strength has been blinded. Of tears, that now burn the lids of the eyes, to water the cheeks that have long been like dried gardens. Of weakness, we are. Though, in being weakened, we have become.

A weak man, can only mean he is inherently so. This means there is no such thing.

Though, a weakened man has become this way. It was a “turning point”, so to speak. A simple realization, that a second mistake of the same kind has left him speechless, enough to no longer form an excuse. His immaturity has regressed him into childhood, once more. Perhaps, even infanthood, where if the grief is too castrating, will make him leave this world how he entered it. Crying.

In being weakened, there is no more to say. There is only much more to do. To grow. To mature.

Philosophy – “The Primary Reason for Chivalry” – 2/19/2021

“Protection is a sign of preserving intelligence, while bodies can be dispensed. For what is the difference between two models of differing appearance, and two wounded men on the battlefield whose severity of injury is also differed?”

– Modern Romanticism

If intelligence can be saved, then we have no need for seeing difference of forms where flesh is altered in contrast.

Men protect women. They do so, to keep the latter from being stupid, just like him. A man most recognizes himself as remorseful, not comprehending why he commits to all his actions.

Out of what motives, keep him committed to the most idiotic endeavors? This is a question, he does not understand of himself.

However, when a man discovers a woman, knows love, unearths this mighty force from within himself, there is purpose. Would a woman ever understand why he fell in love? There is only one reason a man falls in love. It was because he was a nothingness, before he met her.

Before meeting her, all his actions were blind. Superficial. Unimportant. Upon meeting her, his ambitions are her. They go to her. All he has built, are now hers. All he once wielded, she owns. They are gifts, of the many.

Though, his loyalty is his greatest strength.

If a woman rejects this, she leaves him powerless. She strips him of purpose, as it is the ultimate betrayal. Why would a man go through with the effort of leaving behind his past, if not to love? He loves, because he forgets. What he forgets, is the reflection of himself he cannot return to. Without her, and that image is lost. He would return to nothingness.

Then, why would he protect her, if not only to keep her from a duplication of that nothingness?

Of a woman’s continual desire to be empowered by the world, will make a man powerless. It is because, out of love, he does not want to see her fall. Though, if Nature wills it, the tale between Adam and Eve will bring The Fall of Man as an unending repetition. He will fall, for her sake. For that is what a man’s purpose is. It is also his destiny.

Pre-determined and thought out by something more divine than flesh, a man protects what cannot fall. It was his idiocy to be something of nothingness. It is now his loyalty that keeps her away from that identity.

Quote – “The Man who Cries” – 2/5/2021

“No man will cry over sentimentality. He will, however, weep when the boulder during the present, buries him further into the earth. The guilt, harbored upon his shoulders, docked as a ship within his heart, overloaded with the cargo of self-disappointment, offers him the curse of blame for what he could not protect. Competence is, to a man, his own pride. As he kneels over the ruin of what was once so beautiful, so gorgeous, there comes an innate sense of remorse to swallow his senses, and to ever be the last understandable thing to come embrace him.”

– Modern Romanticism

Philosophy – “How a Man Loves… and How He Doesn’t” – 1/31/2021

“There are disgraces in this world. Of those sorts who would dishonor an importance, place ambition above it, and never share an empire for which all that has been built, is now meant to be something of equal purpose; they are wretches. Let slip through the fingers the objective petulance that does not ever come close to the pair of eyes that wander observation into the soul of the one who should abide by importance.”

– Modern Romanticism

Men love, and then, men do not. A man’s life is merely an extension upon things thought to be important, until the love he finds at the crossroads allows him not to make anymore choices. His freedom, a forfeiture. His life, now in love’s hands, though only when he gives up what is no longer important.

A pair of eyes. Slender and outstretched hands. A dashing smile. Of garments that surround a figure that’s been too often ignored, for its beauty. Of vulnerability that gives weight to the wind that stings the cheeks. A man is meant to love these things, and then some. Whereas, there are men who leave. There are men who depart. There are these men, and they are disgraces. No love is ever unimportant enough to one day wish for freedom, from it. The man who departs his love, was a coward, and was someone who finds the objectively trivial as showing more worth than what was found.

From love, to the relationship, what is more important than its envisioned force, meant to wield us, meant to save us? Importance, to a man, should be it. There is no other definition to “importance”, other than what it stands for. Importance. It is a word that describes nothing else, other than where love is placed. Of the one so vulnerable, where love is placed, where arms surround, where sadness is resolved, as that is importance.

Love, unto what is important, is the eternity for which would make a true man unable to leave, unable to yearn for freedom. And, should anything be broken, he would fix it, and not take to his former, childlike ambitions that are indeed immature enough to pertain to the toddler. A man who could fix what is broken at his vocation, in politics, upon his inferior trinkets in the garage, though cannot recreate nor rebuild what has been shattered in his love, is the disgrace that the world must spit on.

For there are many things said to hold worth, though none of them that are so material can be compared to the love in a certain man’s life. Nothing material holds worth through its limited duration, automatically contrasting from the eternity meant to be part of love.

Excerpt – “9 Months to Live” – Novel – 1/19/2021

It is to him that this pain, in deepest relation to his wife, can be a thing that reminds him of the moment. As love cradles, so does the ocean become carried with a few droplets that disperse from this man’s eyes, adding more to the flood. For nothing else darkens more of a wave, than the sadness released from a heart. It is here, when Johnathan carries the weak Lisa, that a crown can be placed upon his head, to label him the monarch of this feud between love and the moment. The moment in which tells him to stare to her, contrasting from the future where there are the lowest clouds smearing fog upon the streets of his mind.

A golden moment, where realization stifles the great steps ahead. For it is why Johnathan has not moved, when there is a loveseat before him. A moment where he may give his praise through a simple stare of his two teeming eyes, where a wilderness inside has sunken through puddles.

Here, a reflection may be witnessed from Lisa, the one who is carried, to the man who loves her. A simple gesture, of his quivering lips, then to two more tears that drop from his eyes to branch forth to his lips, is all to realize the deepest emotions he now evokes. He captains a ship of his own, making no remembrance to the world behind himself, though to keep his path at a constant steadiness for what shall transpire. Of a beauty that shall flake off from his grasp, creating a painting or mural of ashes, scattered in multitude. What sticks them? What remains them, to be set in place? It is the mere act of what is “gone”, to then be wrapped in a blanket inside of Johnathan’s basement of the mind.

A kiss. A solitary one. One replacing the scarring emptiness upon Lisa’s forelorn lips. One that keeps her knit, keeps her heart firm and gathered. One that creates the solidarity for which heeds the moment, though wares the future. Not to suffocate that which could collapse in a distant heartbeat that is a mere second across the field of time, nor to give to Lisa’s remaining grace a greater feebleness. Not to shock, nor to confuse, as this kiss goes to merely shed a sameness of himself, of Johnathan, to bury in her the emotion he has felt for this long-lasting moment.

It awakens her. A kiss that awakens her, as she motions both arms about his neck. She swallows his breath, and glides each of the every little millimeter to her tongue within his mouth. A passion that brings her forth, raises her up, and then loosens her. She is alive, though sick. She is sick, though remains with the fire she keeps alive.

Philosophy – “Truth, Life, & Beauty – Criticism against Body Positivity” – 12/27/2020

“The life or beauty none so flawed is a lie none so truthful.”

– Modern Romanticism

Beauty is the image of any one person, so flawed as to consider their errors, their lack of accountability and responsibility. To the person who claims they are entirely beautiful or wholly without error, while in fact possessing ugliness, must also comprehend themselves as having a life of no flaws. Is not all life flawed? Is not all life so problematic? Therefore, to the one who claims their beauty to be flawless, must be the one with the mentality to say they are the lie without a hint of truth.

To the truth without a lie attached, or the beauty without ugliness involved, or the life without its committed errors, makes flawlessness or perfection an impossibility. Unless we are those who can live without mistakes, or those can speak without telling lies, or those who can appear as something without looking hideous to a person’s eyes, we are flawed. As humans, we are.

Body positivity is no more than the lie that claims to speak of truth, the beauty that claims to mimic perfection, and the life that claims to never learn from any error.

Truth, life, and beauty hold the same meaning. They are equivalent to things so errored, so imperfect, that anything other than their definition would be heinous and deceptive.

For the person to say their beauty is not a mark of ugliness, is same to say that their life is not a mark of error, which is also same to say they cannot be truthful to themselves. In this case, they are endlessly lying to have their way. To “have one’s way” means to deceive, to leave out the necessity for responsibility, and to cheat one’s way to the top.

We cannot be positive, unless we are negative to the greatest weakness any human can possess. And, that is, to believe one lacks a weakness, for that is a lie, is against life, is against beauty.

Quote – “The Often Idiocy of a Man” – 11/12/2020

“To the woman, whose graceful shape is often seen by the man as perpetually imperfect, is merely the onset to wasted time. When he hurls criticism, though never corrects, it is that he stares to her external mask. Nothing is corrected, for that mask is the attempt by her for correction’s sake. He’ll not ever look upon the woman, herself, when sending gazes just to the exterior. Could a woman feel penetrated, by his stare? If so, then through his loving eyes, she is beautiful by the woman of her, not by the form of her.”

– Modern Romanticism