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selina Mar 22
a lover by day
and an artist by night
the epitome of perfection

let me paint you like you are
the heavenly piece of art you are
let the world see you through my eyes

the likes of an angel of love
sculpted by michelangelo
blessed by venus herself

brushstrokes simply cannot do you justice
50mm lens still cannot show the world the truth
cold clay cannot compare to eucalyptus eyes

forget these superficial takes
let's make art, my love
let's make love
Mitch Prax Dec 2020
Write down everything
you hate about them and burn
it with the photos

11:37 AM
Jonathan Moya Nov 2020
The steel bar that holds the torso up
gives it a spine and makes it art
and not some headless, armless, genital-less
mutilation pushed from a machine
going faster than the white signs allowed.
I see it only on my iPhone,
backlit with its perfect abs and ***-gutters
not unlike the headless *******
penetrating endless **** on pornhub,
the unsolicited **** pic galleries popping up
whenever I try to click away.
Everything  breakable and tearable in me
has been torn and broken
and yet I envy this immortal stone
suspended here in cyber space
that can be smashed to white pebbles,
pulverized to dust
and still never bleed
or feel pain.
It exists,
a twist of idolized flesh
to be touched
and wondered over,
polished to a high sheen
by centuries of passing hands
until the fetish leaves me
admiring and detesting,
the remnant echo
of the true and beautiful,
a once true and beautiful God.

Orange huts
Fresh coat of paint
The colour that held the conical shaped
wooden frames
Lined by coconut and palms
The coastal land
Rainforest canopy
Tropical island
The bricks in white
Struck slant in the ground
Forming rows
On the pathway
At leisure rode
The valiant horse
Late evening when the tides came in
The sea swelled with the golden moon
Inspired by a photo
Allyssa Oct 2020
It was the flash of colors,
Your eyes covered in the hair you hated so much.
Colors mushed together to find what made your heart beat out of your chest.
Blurry pictures of you.
Like you were always out of reach to me.
Dante Rocío Oct 2020
The inclination
Towards domestic superiority
Does not refund
Ideals lost at discarded gambles.
Stygian kin browser,
Rest abode,
No lark made your path.
Leave the tie bloodshed
At the desk (once)
Home torn
A short cordial yet coolish prompt on a business noir photo as white collars break and have no foundance anymore inside the sight
angelique Jul 2020
dawn hangs low today, its
golden whisper faint, breath
harboured deep in thought,
its drowsy light drips
down onto the armchair

where, in his worn hands, he holds
silk-sheets and a bottle of wine, flickering
and grainy around the edges

and sitting on his bed, a woman from forever-ago
is dressed in her finest sepia, glass in hand
everyone is placid, frozen, still
for laughter will not escape this room

for this is purely a memory etched in celluloid,
a memory captured in time-withered skin
a memory that burns cold under naked-tongue,
spurred by a primal thirst and a nagging revere
for love, which has trickled away
and buried itself under lashings of trickery

and this place once dripped
with decadence, persian rugs
floating on currents of
fine champagne and amethyst

now, bottles pile up, mirrors flicker
money ebbs and flows
and he lights another pipe,
lungs heaving under
***** and avarice
and lust

...its final fleeting moments...
are etched only on film
blanched and faded of colour
laying parched under the oblong sun
Mitch Prax Jun 2020
Our love is
like a polaroid-
it developed slowly and
even shaken along the way.
But no matter what our
perfect picture has endured,
it will always be worth framing
as long as you are
center frame.
J Mathew Jun 2020
Everything around us shines like a diamond,
But we are trap in a quagmire of cons.
Nepotism, Conspiracy and Conspicuous consumption,
Has chain our real life and precious redemption.

Trapped in fear and others overpower,
A slave we are at our back, nothing is clear.
What happened to this world that was once so dear
We are no longer our own master but just someone's gear.

As days, weeks, months and years roll by
Hoping for a change one day while we thrive.
Never will it happened in this life
Unless we really open our eyes.

While they were smiling and in a lifeline,
We never understood what's behind their minds.
And now when their photos remain just a shrine
We see their real talent and act like we are so kind.

Stop pretending like you care now when they're  gone.
What's done can never be undone.
Posting condolences now and mourn
Are so fake and have no place in a dustbin when they're thrown
This is what I wrote for one of my actor who I really liked in Bollywood because of depression he took his precious life and all this is because he has gone through a lot of fights against injustice
Amanda Jun 2020
Take a photograph,
Let it develop slowly,
Patience is virtue.
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