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"chiaroscuro" poems
navigator’s balcony cocktail hour rocket orbit ocean liner rising clenched no teeth no guernica no bam bam bam correspondent notary republic address book dial figure 8 charred with a thousand jigsaw pieces false as a beach chiaroscuro black on black graveyard womb naked milk glass lit footprint tourism by candlelight and flare vaccination fatigue puke fingernail fish moving a bandaged echo **** him **** her familiar bell music **** them both **** them all stretched shirtsleeves spanish toffee slashed tires (failure as a painter he shaved his wife’s fur coat) bust your ***** Barcelona red alert knock-kneed broken squeezebox no hands standing room only ladies first (please) unbuttoned interrogation coffee rolls (stop) marine’s vegetation (stop) early morning tea (stop) armless menus (stop) pink cathedral fingers (stop) and (begin again) move we move moving inside an eye this eye that advances step by step
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They enter the café just as some sappy pop song is playing They order then immediately hug Embrace Swaying to one side, together, like the wind Encircling the leaning tower of Pisa Then teetering to the other solstice Foot to foot, smile to smile, hand round skirted waist Forearm resting on his tall  blazered shoulders This is forgivable in the young Those teeny-boppers with defiant hair-cuts and posters However, he has peppered hair She, though voluptuous and tanned, Must be in her 30s. “Affair.” My cynical devil snickers, between sips But I sit mesmerized, and for the first time ever Envious. The chairs and the tables somehow seem more distant The song  now sounds as if it’s funneled through some crackling phonograph The very light disentangles itself from stones It’s as if a sky has opened up in my chest Flying high overhead,  one lone raven, Its slow shadow Gliding across my heart Oh, how I miss you 5 states away I see your smile on magazine covers I vaguely sniff your scent on passing women Yet you remain elusive - immaterial, haunting,   While this visceral assault Leaves me bewildered - empty An echo in a chiaroscuro cavern   Fading for thee
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Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 5:31 PM UTC
Letters from N.M.
she likes to dance in cemeteries naked warring little but jeweled ***** bells, ankle bracelets toe rings bingles, bangles, piercings, through ******* and nose her tongue split each side wiggling independently she gives head on a head stone her blow jobs like two undulating mouths her skin inked with black and blood tattoos that say *Satan's little ***** ***** double penetrations preferred porfavor the more buttery big ***** and pastry puffy ******* the better* she all purple hair tinged red and antler horned hat with silver toe and finger nails a crazy saint sane adored by the popes of the lascivious eyes wide open over a crimson mouth sneer cherry pout lips gods gift to ***** and vaginas a temple of relief exalting Eros a **** it bucket list of lust her heart cotton candy in flames ****** like a river of smashed potatoes in cream she like phases of a corpse moon begs to be used after death like pigment on canvas smeared red globes and chiaroscuro she playing dead living it up do you know her she keeps her secret hidden on her sleeve while you keep yours from yourself *bless me father for I have sinned and loved every minute of it yet dare not be happy for fear of Gods rage* my soul saved turned fertile earth to sand and shrouding vistas of light till the bed is the bed of the living dead so there's nothin left but work and sleep and dreams of drunken **** madness are buried under the weight marked forbidden black sun curse hips sway in ashes a forbidden dance
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Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 10:42 AM UTC
Forbidden Dance
she likes to dance in cemeteries naked warring little but jeweled ***** bells, ankle bracelets toe rings bingles, bangles, piercings, through ******* and nose her tongue split each side wiggling independently she gives head on a head stone her blow jobs like two undulating mouths her skin inked with black and blood tattoos that say *Satan's little ***** ***** double penetrations preferred porfavor the more buttery big ***** and pastry puffy ******* the better* she all purple hair tinged red and antler horned hat with silver toe and finger nails a crazy saint sane adored by the popes of the lascivious eyes wide open over a crimson mouth sneer cherry pout lips gods gift to ***** and vaginas a temple of relief exalting Eros a **** it bucket list of lust her heart cotton candy in flames ****** like a river of smashed potatoes in cream she like phases of a corpse moon begs to be used after death like pigment on canvas smeared red globes and chiaroscuro she playing dead living it up do you know her she keeps her secret hidden on her sleeve while you keep yours from yourself *bless me father for I have sinned and loved every minute of it yet dare not be happy for fear of Gods rage* my soul saved turned fertile earth to sand and shrouding vistas of light till the bed is the bed of the living dead so there's nothin left but work and sleep and dreams of drunken **** madness are buried under the weight marked forbidden black sun curse hips sway in ashes a forbidden dance
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60
Magical cauldron apomixes connoisseur               Cephalic phantasmagoria entity obliquitous         Mystical conjurous conjugal entrepreneur                         Fantasia fantastication phantasm obsequious Amorously arduous ardent raconteur Ephemeral translucent opulence ubiquitous             Vanity sanctimonium temerities saboteur Intrepid verve’s intriguingly iniquitous Sorcerous sabbatical apothegms chauffeur Endemic veracities fortuitous elicitous Futurity fatidics fornication kithe                         Ephemeral metaphor semantics flaunts Empirical emulation scenarios blithe Subjunctive subliminal nostalgias haunts Agile articulation acuities lithe                           Analogizing corroborative prolificacy daunts Alacritous tactile manipulations writhe Numinous syntactical paradigm *****                   Emanate imminent perdition tithe Orotund jaded seal ordinand jaunts                                                                                                    Overt convection coercions chiaroscuro tempestuous                                                   Apex crux axis ****** matrix torrid                         Manifest objectified enamorous interstice lecherous Spurt binge spree ***** protuberance squalid    endearingly engendering amore
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Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
Phalaxy
Magical cauldron apomixes connoisseur               Cephalic phantasmagoria entity obliquitous         Mystical conjurous conjugal entrepreneur                         Fantasia fantastication phantasm obsequious Amorously arduous ardent raconteur Ephemeral translucent opulence ubiquitous             Vanity sanctimonium temerities saboteur Intrepid verve’s intriguingly iniquitous Sorcerous sabbatical apothegms chauffeur Endemic veracities fortuitous elicitous Futurity fatidics fornication kithe                         Ephemeral metaphor semantics flaunts Empirical emulation scenarios blithe Subjunctive subliminal nostalgias haunts Agile articulation acuities lithe                           Analogizing corroborative prolificacy daunts Alacritous tactile manipulations writhe Numinous syntactical paradigm *****                   Emanate imminent perdition tithe Orotund jaded seal ordinand jaunts                                                                                                    Overt convection coercions chiaroscuro tempestuous                                                   Apex crux axis ****** matrix torrid                         Manifest objectified enamorous interstice lecherous Spurt binge spree ***** protuberance squalid    endearingly engendering amore
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25
land's moniker mulls utmost care      Kalinga branding the ox       of men with glaringly   immaculate chiaroscuro, atop hills flourishing with the fruits emblazoning   reticence.   chase angel-ward, the synopsis   of meaningfulness,     jagged, indelible accoutrement     akin to the brand of          chaste heritage,    galvanizing this epitaph      with aesthetic nativity,   gallant mambabatok - fill my bones with the ache of your past,    carve in me what the rippling     shrill of air has toppled       in the highlands   you have us shaking the blood     of this archipelago like boughs    breaking free from water's ebb,    frenzied by the river-warm     serpentine embellishment    the strike of the thorns     mints in our untouched bodies!    altogether in this numerous hike    we go in pursuit, hunting the    nibble from flesh to bone,     revealing the rebel, body        to soul.
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Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 5:10 AM UTC
Whang Od
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues      Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
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Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
Anonymity emanations
Pi, at the end of its endless decimals' grandeur, meets a human being—who holds a mirror! Until now, the number, knowing only sway, has been lost in discovery’s polished way. No more: it begins—on a human—in front of its eye. Patterns and unique precision, patternless waves, new math tides soar, pivot at the cosmos' height, only to bag the ultimate truth: Fathima—the first spiritual woman—mooned there first! Fathima steps forward where nature falls behind, across the dead end, the irrational chasm she strides. For the cosmos' deep mind, Earth, the ocean is but a drop; the rope to the top is the lead—the feminine Fathima’s lock! Raw Fathima moves; in shadow, nature follows, clustering atoms span between the two, only to witness her encrypted, secured fashion— intact, uncharted, yet fully functioning, in Makkah and Medina, while she lived. The red fairies at midday’s spot-on, the black swans arching rainbows in wonder— marvel how Fathima deduces, straw by straw, the maestros’ dream of ascension, potion-polished, taking Ma pauses in liminal crescendos, between past and future, here and hereafter—a circular duo. Limning out chiaroscuro in light and shadow— nothing like it exists, in plain sight or the world in toto! Rainbows shaded in, sparking out, the scent of roses in her veiled black hair: the cosmos anew glinting off her edge, deeper quintessence than dark matter! The blueprint, the intelligent pre-design, rests in her elements. The breakthrough exponent—hidden in her eyes. Yet beyond the masses’ gaze, she remains Zahra—light upon the original way. Truly, only one feminine form has reached across the other end of the cosmos' endless highway, zooming past nature’s hidden gems—the irrational Pi, the complex chasm—a mathematical goldmine. Beyond the masses’ eyes and their painted canvases, shine the daylight and the glowing fireflies of the night. Viva Mankind! Fathima is the Moon at the highest high!
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Dec 12, 2021
Dec 12, 2021 at 11:53 PM UTC
Fathima The First Spiritual Woman and Shadow Nature
Pi, at the end of its endless decimals' grandeur, meets a human being—who holds a mirror! Until now, the number, knowing only sway, has been lost in discovery’s polished way. No more: it begins—on a human—in front of its eye. Patterns and unique precision, patternless waves, new math tides soar, pivot at the cosmos' height, only to bag the ultimate truth: Fathima—the first spiritual woman—mooned there first! Fathima steps forward where nature falls behind, across the dead end, the irrational chasm she strides. For the cosmos' deep mind, Earth, the ocean is but a drop; the rope to the top is the lead—the feminine Fathima’s lock! Raw Fathima moves; in shadow, nature follows, clustering atoms span between the two, only to witness her encrypted, secured fashion— intact, uncharted, yet fully functioning, in Makkah and Medina, while she lived. The red fairies at midday’s spot-on, the black swans arching rainbows in wonder— marvel how Fathima deduces, straw by straw, the maestros’ dream of ascension, potion-polished, taking Ma pauses in liminal crescendos, between past and future, here and hereafter—a circular duo. Limning out chiaroscuro in light and shadow— nothing like it exists, in plain sight or the world in toto! Rainbows shaded in, sparking out, the scent of roses in her veiled black hair: the cosmos anew glinting off her edge, deeper quintessence than dark matter! The blueprint, the intelligent pre-design, rests in her elements. The breakthrough exponent—hidden in her eyes. Yet beyond the masses’ gaze, she remains Zahra—light upon the original way. Truly, only one feminine form has reached across the other end of the cosmos' endless highway, zooming past nature’s hidden gems—the irrational Pi, the complex chasm—a mathematical goldmine. Beyond the masses’ eyes and their painted canvases, shine the daylight and the glowing fireflies of the night. Viva Mankind! Fathima is the Moon at the highest high!
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41
We revel in the artist's gaze. See us, artist, we say. Scale us in the geometry of your sight. Objectify us, break us down To our vital light, The zero shade of being, Our essential black and white. But what if the figure becomes the ground? Does the artist’s vision ever come to rest? Does she halt the eye’s restless turning, Instead hunger to be seen?  Fathomed?  Expressed In basic hues, simplified, resolved, Into the object deconstructed, the mystery solved? Spotlight and camouflage, Revelation and disguise: The chiaroscuro of the artist’s eyes. Then where does beauty reside? In our eyes, beholders, Invited in yet held outside? Or in the starlight, sunlight, Lamplight as it plays   On the seer seen in beauty’s gaze?
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Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 10:02 AM UTC
Self-Portrait of the Artist as a Young Woman
Magical cauldron apomixes connoisseur               Cephalic phantasmagoria entity obliquitous         Mystical conjurous conjugal entrepreneur                         Fantasia fantastication phantasm obsequious Amorously arduous ardent raconteur Ephemeral translucent opulence ubiquitous             Vanity sanctimonium temerities saboteur Intrepid verve’s intriguingly iniquitous Sorcerous sabbatness apothegms chauffeur Endemic veracities fortuitous elicitous Futurity fatidic's fornication kithe                         Ephemeral metaphor semantics flaunts Empirical emulation scenarios blithe Subjunctive subliminal nostalgias haunts Agile articulation acuities lithe                           Analogizing corroborative prolificacy daunts Alacritous tactile manipulations writhe Numinous syntactical paradigm *****                   Emanate imminent perdition tithe Orotund jaded seal ordinand jaunts                                                           ­                                         Overt convection coercions chiaroscuro tempestuous                                                   Ape­x crux axis ****** matrix torrid                         Manifest objectified enamorous interstice lecherous Spurt binge spree ***** protuberance squalid    endearingly engendering amore
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Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 7:59 PM UTC
Phalaxy
Magical cauldron apomixes connoisseur               Cephalic phantasmagoria entity obliquitous         Mystical conjurous conjugal entrepreneur                         Fantasia fantastication phantasm obsequious Amorously arduous ardent raconteur Ephemeral translucent opulence ubiquitous             Vanity sanctimonium temerities saboteur Intrepid verve’s intriguingly iniquitous Sorcerous sabbatness apothegms chauffeur Endemic veracities fortuitous elicitous Futurity fatidic's fornication kithe                         Ephemeral metaphor semantics flaunts Empirical emulation scenarios blithe Subjunctive subliminal nostalgias haunts Agile articulation acuities lithe                           Analogizing corroborative prolificacy daunts Alacritous tactile manipulations writhe Numinous syntactical paradigm *****                   Emanate imminent perdition tithe Orotund jaded seal ordinand jaunts                                                           ­                                         Overt convection coercions chiaroscuro tempestuous                                                   Ape­x crux axis ****** matrix torrid                         Manifest objectified enamorous interstice lecherous Spurt binge spree ***** protuberance squalid    endearingly engendering amore
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26
There was a homeless lady, one afternoon, outside the hospital. Was she homeless? I don’t know. She had a ladened shopping cart, which, on TV, is kind of a signature. We were inside, waiting for an Uber. She was outside, in chiaroscuro relief. Dressed in bright, multilayered, mismatched florals and brocades, she reminded me of a gypsy. There are still gypsy caravans in France. Are there gypsies in America? She wore boots and long strings of beaded jewelry. They would have had to have been glass, I supposed, but tinseled with the glitter of those pop spangles, she looked, en bloc, the richest and the poorest of us. She wasn’t young and she wasn’t old. She sat alone, on a short retaining wall, her cart within guarded reach. I noticed her because every time I glanced over, she was watching me with the dark unblinking eyes of a bird. She had an easy confidence, in the wild, sitting safe and protected by her clam, obstinate shell of boredom. What must I look like to her - with her tangled hair and unwashed face? Me in my permanent pressed hospital wear, diminished by over-washing. A doll behind glass, whose whole life is patterned by plans? Our Uber pulled up, the number matched and as Lisa opened the car door, I gathered my things and looked back but the gypsy lady was gone, leaving a blank space.
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Jun 11, 2023
Jun 11, 2023 at 10:29 PM UTC
the gypsy
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues      Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
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Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC
Anonymity Emanations (re-post)
energy surging,              heat begetting heat expands to dark expanse to cool and brew what slow restocking weight with white supernal flare between around an equipoise of center you imagined as you write and what non-being-being residing in beneath the deep? inspired by the question-thought embracing death beyond what death to value life a blissful state in even darkest reaches found the pain a sundered gate of joy you capture with poetic greeting ploy, that coin is split to join opposing worlds as when blind Shiva blinded world unbridled lust arrayed from hut to hut obliging them his ***** to rip but then extinguishing their rant to foster pleading for the dance again collecting yoga as viyoga                                in samanvaya chiaroscuro maya-vidya or adept on cosmic player focus hate-trancendent into vast eternal love which even Luke (14:26) dropped lovely clue to un conditioned by contingent fondness for what myth of real  play we stage together evermore to frolic in the uncut hair of graves                                                                                                                     (greenest grass to know what past) whose leavings are for future sunrise lush to celebrate another self envisioned in another set of singing eyes the literal, empty, formless mien a synthesized good-bye recursion rush .
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Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 9:23 PM UTC
रजस्
energy surging,              heat begetting heat expands to dark expanse to cool and brew what slow restocking weight with white supernal flare between around an equipoise of center you imagined as you write and what non-being-being residing in beneath the deep? inspired by the question-thought embracing death beyond what death to value life a blissful state in even darkest reaches found the pain a sundered gate of joy you capture with poetic greeting ploy, that coin is split to join opposing worlds as when blind Shiva blinded world unbridled lust arrayed from hut to hut obliging them his ***** to rip but then extinguishing their rant to foster pleading for the dance again collecting yoga as viyoga                                in samanvaya chiaroscuro maya-vidya or adept on cosmic player focus hate-trancendent into vast eternal love which even Luke (14:26) dropped lovely clue to un conditioned by contingent fondness for what myth of real  play we stage together evermore to frolic in the uncut hair of graves                                                                                                                     (greenest grass to know what past) whose leavings are for future sunrise lush to celebrate another self envisioned in another set of singing eyes the literal, empty, formless mien a synthesized good-bye recursion rush .
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31
my roman nose did not fit the cupboard womb as I stared at the silhouette of a ketchup stain on   a breakfast table raw burger meat, ripe debutantes all bathed in glycerin and self-destruction waiting for teeth or the occasional knife I pressed against the greasy diner table arms crossed to hide my face behind a promise to be waiting for it open mouthed and mute chiaroscuro, blind
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Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 8:08 PM UTC
meet me at the diner
*Like the stormy wind in a sunlit day You always love to contradict me. I tell you stories of monsters, You transfigure them into angels With your wand of positivity. You tie my sadness in moonbird’s wings And let it fly out of my earth. Sitting amidst the emotional chiaroscuro You play with soft words, Paint new songs in your album, Mimic the meowing of your honeyed kitten. I sit back and wonder, How do every time I witness sunrise Whenever you let me walk deep Into the core of your eyeballs. And when I ask you the definition of life, You unfold your slender arms Like a Pegasus, and reply,* ***“It’s about transforming from One Avatar to another.”***
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Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 1:32 AM UTC
The Fairy Of Restoration
In this summer light, your face startles Much like the sudden unveiling Of Baroque Oil On Canvas Your face becomes illuminated Like an entire Universe And I will study the threshold Of your mouth, admiring its clear brightness (Chiaro)...before moving up To consider the invitation Of your eyes, reclining into Their obscure mellow darkness (Oscuro)...and soon I will recall The arrangement of light and shade. That is you. Forever reliving What you have revealed to me: Your hunger is my pleasure, your words My truth, your song, my delight, and you, (Chiaroscuro)... By: Evelyn Augusto
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Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 1:02 PM UTC
Baroque Oil On Canvas
Her hair flutters in the golden light a lioness she knows words like chiaroscuro and chimera Her eyes, lit by twilight chase the evening star from blushing clouds The sunset, pink and red inking out our silhouettes, releases shadows snaking through the grass and trees, eloping with the night
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Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 3:24 AM UTC
Lost in Africa
chiaroscuro moment molten chords in golden glow titian ringlets cascade from linen shoulders as your hands bring liquid color to idle black and white chorded words of three parts Not easily broken Ebb and flow as breath over water a shift in timbre resonant teak fettered in silver *heady scent of resin and balsam reeds echoed drones the cantored dance begins Taking flight the quiet arias rise coursing low over open moors Eyes veiled green a fog shrouded shoreline We leave transient prints In damp sand... Sonorous notes From kilted pipers A flash of tartan on thistled field Drummers pulse the motion of life You raise the standard This ancient song is yours and mine. Open eyes to desert sky Burning blue and empty As fresh pages fall un-inked on thorny ground Only the ache of a melody remains Lost refrains broken notes in my DNA Inspiration drifts away *I used to have a recurring dream of me, and two other friends - in a recording studio with the complete sheets of music in front of us - which we were singing...and when I wake up...I can never remember the song. 03/2008 © 2008 TL Boehm
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Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
Chiaroscuro Moment
They say demons should be                                                                exorcised They say in the dark lurks                                                                evils They say in your soul  should be nothing but                                                                light That washed out is better  than chiaroscuro. They say all these                                                                 things But what do they know, these people who live in the grey? My muses are demons My pen is a knife My life is much                                                                better With black ink in my                                                                veins I suppose if their minds were to                                                                open We'd all be exactly the same; A world full of demon filled people With eyes open                                                                wide Drawing beauty from shade.
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Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 11:57 AM UTC
Chiaroscuro
Lost in my chiaroscuro world I cannot be followed No-one knows my secret language No-one knows my passwords or my frames of reference Everything said, is coded. In desperate times speech becomes pure sound rhythmic and completely foreign People can make out words but they have no context George, Jean, Martin Arthur, Margaret Names like rays on a compass They were my world of visible magnetic forces I could no more abandon them than rearrange the continents. But you can learn when the old geography is too painfully familiar not to abandon it But simply invent a country of your own. A landscape beyond maps, compasses and sextant Beyond a dictionary of common usage and invented diction. You can search but the unseen patterns of dreaming are as easy to find. Isolated, distant language fractures and returns to you words are breaking the barrier reef an exile in a shadow land. The damage grows inside sensed but unseen seeping into crevices like moss and lichen gripping spreading and creeping a spiked vine flaring down to the tongue. © M.L.Emmett
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Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 7:59 AM UTC
Lost
Swallowed in dreams of bliss and sunset berry kisses in the still of azure skies I gaze into your eyes. Strands of water blue satin touch your delicate curves inflamed with soul passion in nights of quiet storms. Your lips full, sweet of honey like a dream lover's dream I swim in your open sea motions elicit your extremes. Soft whispers pant to find your ear beautiful, drifting, lingering near- driven blind, your brown skin, size titillates the recesses of my mind. Trapped within a muse conversing-secrets stolen so many thoughts of you I can touch each shade of emotion. Beauty in your eyes defies, eludes my mind visions of a summer breeze made my heart rise. I would steal polyanthus and lay beds of jasmine my strong attraction, feel me as I move you to endless reactions. Let me allure you and find your every need I want to liberate your heart and give you the best of me. I search the depths of you as if you were an ocean floating through your violent tides ever the one who makes you cry. Fascinated by your style come with me for a while in the footsteps of pandora though mythological, love never lies. Chiaroscuro, form, light like poetic lines your silhouette in the haze from my lips fall this pantomime. Her fingertips drip elegance in the moonlight mist the jewels of your hips like spinning quasars aglint. She is delicate as a lily flawless like a pearl in sea blue threads of a tapestry which colors my world.
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Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 10:27 AM UTC
Beauty in a Summer Breeze
Wakefulness has come to be A pale respite, a poignant dream Reality has paled and ceased To be of real devoir to me. Amongst the living, I trail the dead That intone from the Netherlands And in their voices, they do spread The need to meet their languished hands. There in the dusk's cerulean shores Towards the night's sapphire core from Whence winged creatures dart and soar I sleep to leave what I abhor. With Morpheus I cast aside The shell from which by day reside In chiaroscuro paradise I lift my head to meet your eyes. By day you're nothing, dust and ash And memories that shall not last By night, draw breath, return to me, Come back to life within my dreams. *Original, Un-rhymed Notes: The waking world has become surreal After everything that's happened All things are a pale shade of what they used to be Those that aren't here call out to me louder than the scores of the living I feel them, carried with me Clinging, pulling me back towards dreams. I see them there, whole and unscathed*
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Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 10:14 AM UTC
Dreams (My Lenore.)
These are pieces taken from a mind of someone falling in his own mind. There are two significant bodies. As the victim, one is tied onto a wooden royal chair while blindfolded; another with scalpel at hand inflicting cuts, sculpting flesh as beats of Pornopop’s ‘Little Kafka’ play in the background. Chiaroscuro. Lightbulb in pendulum motion. From a distance, there’s a bystander who can see both of them in fluorescent smiles — curious about the lack of cries despite the absence of a gag. Perhaps this is why poems require too much words. Here and there: a painting in progress, an artist, an unidentifiable face on canvas. *You always remind me to forget you so let me be your masterpiece instead.* And as the beauty of impermanence does its work, his world fades away.
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Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 8:38 AM UTC
Your Masterpiece
The darkness whispers To me tonight Of a tickling In my ear So light Softly, Softly It goes Chillingly Up my spine And down again Darkness, be mine! The light Is creeping, Crawling, sprawling Away from shadow’s grip So boldly it waxes the floor with gold Polishing the banisters with pure filigree, Polishing them with purest golden filigree It makes the dawn more welcome here Expanding thru empty hall Revealing in stride Most horribly The end
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Sep 23, 2011
Sep 23, 2011 at 10:26 PM UTC
Chiaroscuro
To my left, there is the Neoclassical beauty, profile drawn by David himself, delicate, bright eyes, reminiscent of Gainsborough. The Rubeniste sits in front of me, full figured, though not as colorful as the Graces. Behind me lurks the Rembrandt, moody, dark, in the chiaroscuro of a leather jacket and tousled hair. Here I am. With my Schiele hands, Rosetti lips, but without the quiet grace or distortion of either.
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Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
Portraits in Art History