No matter how you sugarcoat it, there is never a nice way of calling someone fat.
“You would have been beautiful in the Renaissance era [because in the Renaissance era they painted portraits of chubby girls like you— back then, fat was artistry.]
I still don’t know what I was more upset about: The backhanded compliment-- "would have" being synonymous for "no longer"-- or the fact that I was conditioned to believe the Mona Lisa was anything short of sublime.
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Whenever I am not seeing you Lethal void is my heart Like the monolithic art Of a sculptor; Like the figures of Mona Lisa, I tried to engrave you Again and again in my heart And rehearsed you many times In my memories.
To reconstitute Your beautiful image Inside of my mind I behold you thousand times, Yet all loving and languishing Nothing could be captured To match your perfection As you were seen in person Nor could be remembered To your many dimensional figure Of youth unclaimed.
You are just beautiful but demure, Seductive but unrevealing A love that slips down Near your lips were forbidden? And be never told?
Like two balsam flowers unfold Opening from their buds, Your eyelids are open wide. Like two bees ******* honey My eyes were seeking yours To ferret out the secret Of your true love and desires; Neither did they come out Nor did they flutter And never reached out My beehive safely.
Seeking out for your true love In your eyes, in your lips, Cheeks and chin far and near, Everywhere all over you, Looking at you all the time. You are open to interpretation Of your true intention Of your love and desires Like the secret smiles Of Mona Lisa.
Until you make confession Of your true love, I will behold you thousand times, You are just beautiful but demure Looking for you all the time. You make me dream about you While in my sleep or I am awake.
My discrete memories Are overshadowed by time, I cannot fight with my feelings Whenever I am not seeing you, Lethal void is my heart, Come and meet me in person!
Keeping you as my secret As though the world unknowing Is infinitely empowering Like the Mona Lisa smiling Her gaze perpetrating Knowing thoughts discerning Never disclosing yet ever imparting Secrets untelling Keeping you guessing and searching For an inevitable unveiling Yearning unabating
We always talks about putting our broken pieces back together Or we speak of mending another with tape and glue Like stitches that won't undo But putting the pieces back together wont make them new Why don't we ever think about picking up each others broken parts And placing them where ours once were Instead of fixing a puzzle with missing pieces Why don't we become art And fill each other with beautiful parts?
All that you find broken about yourself All that I find rotten within my hollow shell Are colorful pieces to complete a work of art If you take some of me and make it beautiful Then perhaps one day I too could see the beauty I betray I'll do the same for you as I collect these magnificent additions To the masterpiece that I make of myself One day we will become Mona Lisa and The Starry Night Not only will we be the art we will become the artists As grand as DaVinci, as unique as Van Gogh We will fill this world with our broken art And make others learn that there is beauty in every splintered part
Art, a smile like the one on the face of Mona Lisa. Curved like the waxing moon above the sea. Light a flame before a face yet to be seen. What will it prevail, will it show once for all a slow tilt on the smiling lips —a curve softly locks on a rose from the sun, or a shadow beneath the moon?
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
Yes, T R I E D can now be downloaded and you can listen to it, please use the provided link above and enjoy.
Produced by. Sabelo Mhlanga(Taylor Reeds) Mixed and Mastered by. Sthembiso Lukhele(Phantom) Features : C.Front(Hloni) and Monalisa. Written by. Menelisi S'phiwo Moya(TheWordIzwi, YaKaul) Genre : Spoken Word.
1. T R I E D took a year to write, and the month it was published was the same month I started writing it. 2. Started writing T R I E D while I was happily involved with someone, so no it's not actually directed to anyone. 3. The poem is from a guys perspective and not just me. It's not always the girls who give their all. Guys give just as much. 4. T R I E D has two other poems in it which were initially separate poems. 5. The last verse of the piece was actually inspired by someone. T R I E D F A C T S
Amidst the dark sky tonight, she remembers the sky so blue-- so sad. Its reflection she sees in the sea is so ****. She saw a face with Mona Lisa smile that people have seen but have not felt because they don't bother.
She was always a canvass-- plain, waiting for others to color her world. And sometimes when it's dark, she thanks the darkness for she can see the **** reflection no longer.
It's her time of the day to become a poetry, a masterpiece built from dreams and feelings. It's her time to be felt rather than seen-- to die as Mona Lisa and to live as Kilmer's "Tree."
Because they don't know, they don't know that she doesn't want to be like that. That she wants to do so much more than to just smile.