#artifice
Learning ignored rules, mad rantings
divine furies capturing pythia
tickling the fancy answering inquisitor
Saturnian meter
perhaps practiced marching
Delphic oracular utterings, perhaps
once could have been dancing feet,
if ever mere haps determined winning
some factor manufactured *********
fashioned from centuries assisting
future tellers of the muses uses
fruiting for our entertainment
as we think at our core, so we
become, come and see, how
come we to make believe.
Take breath and podium or stage away,
we breathe deeply and feel unrefined joy,
from briefly readjusting the look on your face.
Mar 23
Mar 23, 2026 at 2:28 PM UTC
Each purposed smear narrates
The poised faked fire of tears recent abated
Daubed pigments interlacing to store traces
Of gut-deep betrayals worn on lying skin
The never-before retraced in stain & tint
The sour taste of imagined sins
Rose-tainted views feign caught hate
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 3:25 PM UTC
Incapable d'agir. De quoi parlent-ils tous?
Est-ce encore un livre, la perte de ses pages?
Où que l'on creuse, là n'est pas la source;
Déduira-t-on ainsi qu'elle est introuvable?
Écoutant les murmures au travers du ciment
Encore qui mugissent des propos absurdes;
Puis d'une jointure, l’on cognera dedans:
« Encore et toujours vide, l'écho ridicule. »
Criant au secours, qu'on leur vienne en aide;
Celui de tout perdre, connait-on le sacrifice?
C'est donnant ainsi tout qu'enfin l'on nous cède
Le vrai pour et contre l'artifice.
Incapable d'agir. Que racontent-ils donc?
Lorsqu'ouvrir la bouche est un pas de trop,
À la course ils se ruent vers les fronts:
« Cette inertie qui maintient en sursaut. »
En ouverture vers le vide, voici le message
Des parois décousues d'un fort abyssal:
« Écouter le silence, le silence qui n'entend rien. »
Dec 8, 2019
Dec 8, 2019 at 10:47 PM UTC
My fingers tap against the keyboard. The stars linger above my cross-legged, country trance spilling across the indigo campfire sky. Jasmine ransacks my senses dazing my context of the red, wooden bridge, and my head tilts upward both in flowering pleasure and earnest reverence. The stars become you. We bathe in naked sunlight. The heavens fall to earth, and I capture its ecstasy in bodiless waking moments.
Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 4:08 PM UTC
No one can bear
With poise and grace
The truth laid bare
Before their face
So stories reign
In highest court
Defying reason
And wise retort
Myths filter light
So eyes can see
The truth too bright
For you and me
Slanted truth is better
Than blindness, after all
But when falsity’s untethered
Soon cometh the fall
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 8:39 AM UTC
Mr Smith had never thought about
The fake flowers on the drawers.
That beauty which makes death feel ignored,
But looks unripe in any vase
And isn’t right for wedding cars -
Their petals never sought to solve
His seven word soliloquy.
There’s no rose bed on recovery
When after all, she loves him not.
He knows it from their scrutiny,
That untimely unchapped litany
That blush of plush longevity
Adored; while he withers.
Mr Smith’s preferred were pansies,
For ‘their faces crumpled under sunlight’,
He’d shuffle stems like decks; green necks
To warm and sweeten death.
The pansies were his calendar -
Life measured against death
Kept his watches ticking;
The thirsty amber skins were pages comprised
Of how he hated plastic petals
With a pale and putrid pith,
Their purpleness was slothful
And their pulchritude a myth
Of mocking murmurs mumbling
Memories -
As insipid as the very falseness
Binding up their limbs -
Of the August day in ‘54
When the fake flowers on the drawers
Were white against her whiter brow -
As perfect then, as they are now.
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 6:25 PM UTC
She and I were strangers before.
We had the same pains of deception from the close ones.
we artifice the close ones too,
one day, we met at crossroads,
don't know how and when
we become friends
one night, during our late night chats
our tormented hearts oozed out the grieves stored
tears rolled out like the rains.
we cried a lot
wept for hours in silence
now we are more CLOSER than the said lovebirds
because
we share the pain
not love.
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 3:59 AM UTC