meister-lendonshire
20
I paint through words. / Through words I show. / Through showing we connect. / Through connecting we understand. / Through understanding we unite. / Through uniting we create. / Through creating we live life. / Through living life we'll paint words some more.
For what is a lack of conviction?
Without regard to feeling at all?
For what is to care, to be warm to love?
Without giving room to move forward?
Was I lost to believe the lake isn't tainted to drink?
Have they already trodden forth to a false retreat?
While I'm left on the hill of unhanged mirrors?
It’s colder up here, wind's stronger, but the air's clean.
An offering of a soul,
For a crumb of physicality,
A cathedral of care,
A mere reaction.
Feb 15
Feb 15, 2026 at 8:20 PM UTC
Ghosts don't knock, they slide through the seams.
They trade through currencies of fevers and dreams.
They mimic the cold truth, for it shan't be kind.
It seeks the real door back to the heart and the mind.
Sleep could be a sandbox, a simulation of lies
A play for a phantom, who refuses to die.
So let the play run, let the shadows perform,
As reality anchors you amidst the storm.
As you awake in the silence, the 11th seal is tight,
A sovereign of morning, an advocate of light.
The branding of art crumbled, the secrets fled,
Thus, bury the dreams until the world's end.
You exist, though it's hurting,
As you survived the haunting.
Time passed, the wound's still deep
You own the day, and conquer the sleep.
Feb 3
Feb 3, 2026 at 4:52 PM UTC
Bridges I’ve built were not meant for the flame,
I sought to heal what I could not name.
But a Bridge to a shadow is a path to the floor,
I'll never be the living who begs evermore.
For mending the shards is a fool's errand now.
I offered the truth, not the penitent's mow.
If I need to burn myself, to give light in the dark,
Then I'll be the Master who fanned every spark.
Pleading to be resurrected is a ghost’s dying breath,
I’ll not seek a pardon for escaping this death.
If living means hiding, then poison the well,
I’d rather be a villain, from the heaven I fell.
Let my blood and ashes,
Be the ink to my manifest.
I hereby refuse to give in,
I choose instead to sing a hymn.
Feb 3
Feb 3, 2026 at 12:04 AM UTC
Bury thy work of art thou claimed to adore,
I’ll be the Cerberus that guards the front door.
If demanding the truth be a noxious offense,
Then I’ll be the Beast in thy own defense.
Brand me the shadow, the assassin, the ghost,
The malice-born error that cost you the most.
I’d rather be loathed for the soul I am,
Than bled by the blade of a Mercenary's sham.
Paint me in charcoal, in soot, and in spite,
For oiling thy lamp into thy night.
If my self-respect to be a concoction thou dread,
Then let me be Villain—I slumber with the dead.
Wearing the vestment thou offered for free,
Is a Win for the House and a Win for me.
Thy "Hero" you wanted was but captive in chains,
But the Wicked are free... and the silence remains.
Thus, allow me to be thy villain
To be thy own lost narrative
To be thy own regretful victory.
I honor the truth; that is my initiative.
Feb 2
Feb 2, 2026 at 7:52 PM UTC
Betrayed by the light of a Redemption song,
I locked my heart where the secrets belong.
But the breached wall is where the Philosopher begins,
To cast out the lie that is the art and let the man in.
There is a map of a ghost I once knew,
A Mirror I willfully shattered to get a better view.
No more muffled whispers in a gallery of stone,
The 11th Hour is at peace when it stands on its own.
The sun is the only heat that I need,
To purge the False Hope and follow the creed.
The Price is a burden which I’ll pay with my pride,
With no more lies left gasping inside.
Words and actions are the blades that I sharpen in haste,
Wisdom is knowing which breath not to waste.
My lips are now welded; the silence is gold,
The story is mine—and it’s finally told.
Feb 2
Feb 2, 2026 at 7:41 PM UTC
Today I inadvertently learned that,
These are the only English alphabet
That makes your lips touch.
Yet why does it bother me so much?
To think while scrolling on my device
I'd get to gain information that before,
Took time, energy, and unsolicited advice
Just to read that, gained in a bookstore?
The sun shines, my keyboard clicks,
And my brain decided to let it slip
In that brief moment of tranquil wonder
My heart craved, my soul pondered.
Jan 21
Jan 21, 2026 at 8:30 PM UTC
"Now ain't that the sweetest child?"
The fair maiden says on a screen.
She's afraid to lose a friend.
Whose dear to her, she said.
"I love my baby me,
thanks for rebelling."
Her friend chuckles in glee,
As it misspells a certain pebble.
"Someone will choose you,
Every single day through good
and through bad days."
The friend, on his knees, agrees.
"How weird is weird,
You weirdo?"
To her, she's a simpleton
To him, she's a button.
Like in a warm, dusty knitted dress,
With a pretty little headdress,
But hates being a goddess,
Whose love seemed endless.
"When your way's lost, the path is dry,
For my way is clear, my way is mine.
Follow the moonlight that shines.
Thus, in your darkest hours,
All will be just fine."
Jan 19
Jan 19, 2026 at 9:20 PM UTC
The man of her life
Is merely adornment
For her waning beauty
To her pride's delight.
"The arrow has left,
The bow of the goddess."
It pierced through her heart,
Her pain was met in silence.
In the dread of the night
A weary smite.
A golden gloom
Of heroine might.
In her story she's a hero
To others she's a fraud.
And all that's left
Is she who loves her so.
Jan 12
Jan 12, 2026 at 10:24 AM UTC
When you handed over your soul.
And you received a deadline of two weeks.
What did it make you feel?
Did you chew your favorite bowl?
Or whimpered to a wise tree?
The human acted human,
To adorn your need for "kindness".
While you're a mere four-legged ant,
Shackled into 50 years of blindness.
It helped you when you were in need,
Yet you're still here, left to bleed.
Please stop chasing for its lead
For it's a trap for tainted meat.
Your condition is a mess
The "human" neglected the rest
You're more than just its selfishness
You must not ask for forgiveness.
Jan 12
Jan 12, 2026 at 3:17 AM UTC
"In a bellowing grove
I blew a kiss
Amongst a bliss
That bears only fruit."
Wind chimed grace
No brute's disgraced
Only lingering glaze
A tethered haze.
By the oyster shells
Amidst the fungus
The snowy summits
The elf called it dingus.
Ginger drapes
Sour grapes
A sour lace
Of buttered glaze.
Jan 12
Jan 12, 2026 at 3:11 AM UTC