there's no such thing as empty pages.
in a single sheet there are worlds waiting to be discovered, questions waiting to be answered and people I wish that I could be.
how many worlds can you find on your paper?
Do you see What you have become Brian Hill - 2019 # 282
Do you know?
Before you take up your blade, Sharon
who do you see? Will you be cutting to heal or incising to free some carefully hidden, some up-til-now unbidden me? When you take up your blade and test the fresh edge do you have an image of a me fixed in your head? Can you see in your mind a kinda-me roughly out sketched? When you make your first cut do you have a clear vision of what I'll reveal have you made your decision as you press down and carefully cleave with loving conceiving precision? When you lay your blade down do you see I've appeared? Do you know I'm complete when the excess is cleared? Or when you sleep do you wonder whether there's a less of a me maybe a more of a me silently waiting here?
You need to see Sharon Walter's art to fully understand this. She cuts away at images to reveal something new. Quite remarkable.
Visiteth, buildings those workers constructed,
Foundation lay which the heartfelt knitted Ask them, those beside who're seated Which rugged path the old man leaded Look, those who just went on speeded Saying, was that accident needed Ever asked the lad on the hill so steep, How much was that school boy beated Never judge one by the front that ye witness, By none, can their destiny be readed Fix thyself, upon the loose ***** should you focus Then will the fate, have a right message tweeted Don't let nothing become the cause ye receded Then shall desire fulfil the path ye pleaded
Two sticks of bones
Laid with meat and muscles over Cradling a devil in its fold. The devil rises with heat Satiated when pain is inflicted Upon the weak. In the midst of life And blood and the hidden There is an abode, a heaven. Their chest and thighs pour Their soul and lust There is pleasure, there is pain. But not all pain is pleasure. Ask the skirts with melting limbs Played with by the stick owners. They violate, they tresspass Tear them limb to limb apart Blood is a colour they own but despise. Parted are the weak barks Exposed is their bottled bodies, Their insides poisoned with sap. Their mouths tore To steal laughter But what escapes are scream. The devil in the folds Rears its ugly head And burnt is the heaven. Life giving land is made to bleed And the pillars of faith are shook Hands to caress, strangle the own. They are the weak In a world of lust They fear the devil and hate themselves. Not all who bleed Wish they did, Watch those covered little girls They have been once uncovered.
Nightmares and stories
as we talk
around in circles words fall ******* silence
squat fair why amour thick but slender will toe himself in close but rather than let go of ties with enzymes in his heart can pouch egg with a pinch of salt.
My sweetheart from your beautiful veil
I intend just to see all your inner beauty All the graces of your beauty must reveal I want to take a chance to make you free I do realize that when you uncover face Glowing cheeks and eyes will be seen Show me alluring style, enchanting grace My little lovable innocent sweet teen I assure you that after that I will not see Whatever prize or surprise comes in way Beauty of love travels in you and in me You will make me golden brown light ray Col Muhammad Khalid Khan Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Losing myself in the veil of tears
Uncover me in proximity