Writing
-
You tell,You spell the cause of your woe,And I come crawlingTo ease,To please you, in pain’s dire flow.The simplicityTo bereaveWhen I wear a heartStitched on my sleeve. Calm this,And do not fuel this.These urges shall come undoneTo bleed you,To grieve youOn the wires of your heartHung from the highest cliff,Spilling downIts descent from the crown.…
-
Soft, simple words edged on the tongue that speaks nothing audible, between the voice that coughs on grief. A symptom. And, only a symptom. Of a stain noticeable to the mind, yet invisible to the heart. To what can ridicule, for its current place. Then, what will wish for its place among the silence of…
-
Holding nowWhat little remainsOf your porcelain mouth,Of what words I did contemplateUnder the barest moon,Lifting my featuresApart from doom,Healing a heartThat never died for you. The simplest beatOf an orb of redLeaves stainsOn the floor, where walksDecrepit feet,Bleeding toes,A horror upon the shouldersOf a man in his woe. The cold iron,The rushing crimson,With veins that…
-
“The collective organization is only ever aware of its individualized imperfections. In denial, however, the idea of ‘change’ comes to the mind of one who stands for collectivism by whatever is altered. It is the denial of what should be trusted. Through collective change, individualized imperfection is ignored for the sake of a perfected group.”…
-
What were weUpon a timeWhen Heaven did open its gatesTo endless gustsOf our curiosity? We were sentenced to ruin,With fable, stain in heart,To the inkWith endless marksOn the empty page. This love that holds us nearWhites us out in holiest books.What disusedColors of ending tracingThat never did forfeit the blamingWe used to sample. White castles,Endless…
-
What, when upon a mile,I can shoulder grief in the harried storm?Pulling petalsAs butterfly wings,Washing down the ocean’s sudsWith my own blood? My twin and I, apart,As Heaven seems so dark,Holy Hell with I,Feeble, yet aliveWith symptoms of sadness in the hair,Without joy in each of everywhere. Her eyes, the deepest glimpseOf everything else I…
-
Call yourself downBeautiful woman with blessed crown,And bleed your pain, elsewhere.Do not shed a tearLest to heighten our fear.With bleeding palms,We crawl,We hang ourselvesFrom the colors of our salvation. With your featuresDecked in ivory cascades,The future can mourn itself, as darkWaves begin to find usOn the ocean of gray beginnings.My love,Run to your nowhere,For I…
-
Soft glint in the woodened reflectionBeside where a mirror collects the nerves,An awakening to a cruel resurrectionOf lifted pain, to the shuddering sigh,With a willow’s branch that waves goodbye.She sleeps in the comfort of near-death,Evasive of my never-ending tears,Her eyes that have closed, are not concealedFor to the shadows around, she is revealed. Adjusted to…
-
“Is the mind not as, if not more, important than the body? Something as ephemeral as flesh should not compare to the eternity of the mind. If we regulate what restricts the body from its freedom, then we should do the same for the mind.” – Modern Romanticism There are the similarities, and then there…
-
Piling higherThan any curve in the wind.Here, the sun draws radianceTo love’s holy entranceOf purity’s flower, once scatteredOf a life, once unlivedFrom one love, yet to give. As all the streams come clashingWith the fire of a momentWith beauty so dashingAmong the droplets, come splashing.Here, and only here,Wild eyes are soft among the sighsThat accompany…
-
“If the current and contemporary wisdom still stands, that before one does good for others, one must do good for themselves, then no past, present, nor future politician had, has, or will comply.” – Modern Romanticism The politician is the seducer. There is no bias in the statement that if such sorts were truthful, they’d…
-
Petals, drawn out of eyes,Washing on, running onFrom the place they laid upon. A mind full of symmetry,Mindful of jealousyMoving forth to shortcomings,Laid flat in the long-termOf a presidency voted in by grief, Washing ashore, eyes to seekThe stagnancy in the idle blueOf skies that never drop,With hearts that never stop. Wandering with cruel disclosureUpon…
Modern Romanticism 