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Brumous Apr 23
I'll let go of this pencil
that continues to draw this
head filled with imagination

"behead me,"
and bring the endless ache of being
an insufficient being;
in this ideal world

'filled with feelings, pens & paint,'
it irks me that I make no sense

I hate that I'm not perfect like her.
Mr Quiet Apr 17
Life is an artwork; it is not obligated to give you a meaning or purpose. So what do we do about it? Give it interpretations.

Alot of us don't realize the privilege that we have of not having an objective purpose, we are not eternally bound to do one thing because that would be a curse rather than a gift. Life gave us a chance, and that chance is to give a meaning to life itself. So what is the point of living? The answer can be as ambiguous as the amount of stars in the universe.

Do not cage yourself into one meaning, instead, explore the vastness of meanings that each living creature interpretates from the greatest artwork of all time: life.
Hello, everyone. This will be the last poem/letter that I will upload in this blog. It has been a long time since I've last wrote here and my life has definitely changed tremendously. Thank you, everyone. And if you're interested in what I'm doing lately, all my platforms are in the link in my bio, I now make my own music. Stay safe and keep improving.

Farewell,
Mr. Quiet (Dave Sison)
Skye Dec 2020
Paint me golden with your touch,
Sculpt me, cut me with the soft, pretty whispers, and
Perilous lies.
Sketch the scars that trace my chest
Colour the bruises, then throttle my throat
The red, the blue, the yellow, the black
The violet of my lips,
And the scarlet of my blood.
But once you are done, and loosen your smock,
Set the canvas down, and lower your brush
Your hand trails upwards to cup my cheek
A serendipity, you always say
Ephemeral beautiful that cannot be compared with.
I open my eyes and I’ll lie on the chair
Waiting for a masterpiece to be made.
https://twitter.com/mami__1230/status/877521127316234240/photo/1
◊ ◊ ◊
© Cori
Lucy Houbart Jun 2020
Mary Seacole
Black nurse sculpture
Your determination points
To injustice. Your struggle
To serve, be accepted.
Why were you shamed and denied?
This is the broken land where we live.
Your courage, your stride
Takes me to our weakness

To the ache in my chest like a
broken blood vessel.
And trace the lines in my hand
To a bad rotting root.
How many wounds did your hand with compassion soothe?

Behind your certitude
I imagine pain.
Did your hurting
Search out injury and loss?

And as you nursed those violent lacerations,
Patiently waiting whilst the pathway beat its course,
Did you see as if through a veil,
Your own fractured self,
Fusing with your patient’s,
Both your Injuries restore back together
All the way towards their good health?
This poem is inspired by the sculpture by Michael Jennings which is of Mary Seacole which stands outside St Thomas's hospital looking over the river Thames and towards the House of Parliament.
Mystic Ink Plus May 2020
When love
Hits you hard
Either
You will be turn into
The Masterpiece
Or a painsmith
And
This life is
Not enough
For
Your
Art
Genre: Observational
Theme: Craft
Note: Order N' Chaos
Nidhi Mar 2020
What if mother nature is mad at us?

She told us that
our fumes are poisonous
our water turned from majestic blue to coal seaweed color
her innocent animals are dying from bullets and thorns
plastic flying on branches as if they were nature green leaves

she told us this

And we did not listen to her
we did not
we took her for granted

So she got mad
created something that can destroy the ones who betrayed her
a virus that kills us
making us afraid to leave from the safe box

She is not evil
she is only trying to help the animals live longer
and live with no fear

Venice water is clear as a mirror
for dolphins to swim
for swans to dance
they are living with no fear
she's happy her artwork can't be destroyed
for now

we owe her an apology for the mistakes we created
we must stop the hateful crime
and love the artworks she created
before once again we suffer in pain
Mystic Ink Plus Jan 2020
For reason
Unknown
While looking at you
If their conscience
Penetrates the depth

Sometimes
Without saying
You are beautiful
You may hear
Your layout is
Outstanding

Realize that
He/She is an artist
Genre: Observational
Theme: Art For Life
Lemon Dec 2019
I looked down at my artwork
None of it looking good
The eyes are saggy
And the neck is a mess
The arms are noodles
The legs as well
The stomach is disfigured
And the hair looks like a nest
The feet are squished
The hands are sharp
The ears are long
And my mind is a wreck
For I'm not looking at my artwork
No, I'm looking at myself
At all my flaws
And insecurities
All my mistakes
And all my thoughts
After all
I know I'm not okay
With how I look
Or how I am
So I act like im a failed artwork
And fix myself
To fit in this world
S O P H I E Nov 2019
my body is your canvas
lather lavender bites along my collar
leave lilac and imprints upon on my legs
press your lips to mine
and leave me blind
your love is artwork
all writings belong to sophia cannariato ©
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