"overlay" poems
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway,
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
In willfully prevenient interpolation,
Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray,
Forecasts in vague extrapolation
Contrasts the millennial contagion
Already underway,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion,
Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion,
The personable recluse fighting an illusion
Breaking down the nuances of every institution.
Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity
Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility,
An opinionated adversary,
to the realist without evidence,
Theorizing in futility,
Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community.
Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified,
Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified,
Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide,
Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide,
Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified.
Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity,
As consequential regiments are expounded universally,
To unstratify the residents indiscriminately
And identify quantum elements spiritualistically,
Changing collective behavior individually,
Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
"sly wordplay, it glows, feels like a shimmering address, half warning and half blessing, really alive with cadence"
read Kiki Dresden poetry^
once more into the sea trench divide,
I dive to devise,
Your provoking comment,
demands my full attention,
you divert me from struggling with
ginger & clay,
a contra concept
that molds and enflames,
yet strikes overtly sweet,
it does not
come so easy
as this playful notion
But
your words deserve the
attention immédiate
atenção imediata
that births this script,
tumbling forth in an instantly
instantaneously
me student, you mistress~master,
schooling me on sublimity subliminal,
capturing the capering
stylistic that bursts forth from within,
that my fingertips provide,
while my brain connives & connivers
continuously
you overlay analytics
that never are to me
revealed,
the what and wherefore
of the whom
hiding within
of the im~perpetuity impish essence of
i m p ishness
by charmingly doing me, not once,
but many times better
here a spillage:
an observational ditty,
dressed in a tux,
most formally,
to render the greatest
wordplay
ever invented
t,
the uniqueness of a simple
thank you
my favorite poem
a forever for ever,
the song that
plys and plays me
in the me
so often,
the linguists have banned the word
repeatedly
from my lexicon
so in its stead,
this all-in-one mighty steed
(verb phrase, a noun, or an adjective depending on its usage)
this phatic expression,
here disguised in
Portuguese,
muito obrigado!
muito obrigado!
muito obrigado!
nml 5:39am nyc 10/4, 10/4
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 5:44 AM UTC
*~~
When so much light around
but you say the dark
I could not understand
my top layer
When I was in the womb
Then, and not
But there was light
Then when I saw your universe that you have made
everything was there
My playing companions
The Sun
The Moon
My beloved,
And that delighted
Night's north star was
on her forehead
Where all of my senses have
grown up
Then at one sudden night of the new moon
I saw a thick overlay on the sky,
between you and me
The North Star has disappeared
I think that you were true
In the dark I find my known world
One by one,
Trying out through the thick layer
It seems to cover the end
As light yellow yolk
See a light-colored tint
which awakens my sixth sense again
A shadowy obsession
Which has yet to create an illusion
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen*
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 1:27 PM UTC
all aluminum alloy ammo
bane bat brakes badly basters back bones
come call cthulhu Cristo cuz
dead ********** dominate de download
even elven eternal endowments
fail frivolously flaming for fair fraudulence
grant good goggles give grandiose gratuity
how hella homeboys have how he has
If I ignore I implicate its implore
jack jacks jacks
kay killla kooks krack
LAPD locks la lackeys
maybe mom made mad monoxide
no, no natural nix NOx neutralizes
oh over overt opp only overlay orphic
please protest politely panic pretenses perpetuity
quiet quivers quiet queens
remember rage reaps reciprocity
so sour sits supplanters sat
to tell them to tare trail *** tat?
universal unhappiness underlays under us
victory validates victors vanity
why warble when winners wont waste worry wanting
x-axis x-rays Xerophagy Xanax Xanthorroea
you yodel yonder yet yahweh's yells Yarrish
zero zag zealots zoos
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 4:40 AM UTC
is it love
or the parasite ?
my pilot bulk
aims for relief
it pursues this via
your romantic correction
in public arena
a library stair
(i never prior encountered you)
one step as foreigner
the approach
and upon a swift internal pendulum
i make witless incisions
hurried mended sentences
directed stuns
invasive
i demand the compromise
of your company
hastily push at boundaries and
you're not so accommodating
but
on a further occasion
same building
we exchange a battering of conversation
that
then
matures
into barter-like use of language
despite my harassments
a civil cultivation is unearthed
tongue within this intelligence effort i lessen
loosen my demanding appearance
disregard my dignity
a skin suit about the ankles
you're open in a vein of similarity
you flesh out your own controls
we've progressed quickly
there's an aped conduct
and flashing attitudes
this time we share table space
a nearby café
we have become quite unmanned
repeated meet ups
upon humours we adjust small habits
and shake on perceptions where we overlap
it becomes
more an overlay of rationalities
than resented promises
fast time passes and
i move into your living space
i pick a wildflower
and put it in the tiny vase on your dining table
we agree on its colour
we agree on a book to make our bible material
we agree on the pitch of the tinnitus we share
the clothes i am to wear
i switch to your diet
and you cease taking medications
we sleep on your lawn like children
and bring down the night sky for comfort
during the day we wear our sleep
like a lubrication for our chores
and go about our productivity
in genuine partnership
yet
i feel we're just out of reach
of some dark harm
we are an excellent sample pair
it is all vital
we grow stronger the more we quiz it
recycling our **********
refine our agreements
await further impulses
and come closer to plug
so..
do we please love
or simply indulge a parasite ?
Nov 23, 2021
Nov 23, 2021 at 10:28 PM UTC
it is the scene that comes to one
that opens its palms
like a child might open its own
in delight
the fingered-bamboo on slender arms
and the smooth waters flowing
like a sage’s long white hair;
and the rocks like pauses
and the terrain sliding, gliding down
not to be outdone by the river that flows –
it is the scene that comes to one
and one must come to it, and one observes…
one comes with no preconceptions
and without creed and theology
one leaves one’s history
and expectations and conditioning
and one sees what is before one…
to this one does not bring one’s opinions
and one’s past and emotions
and one’s beliefs and one’s dogma -
for to observe is to see, not to overlay
like laying carpets on mud
or marble tiles on the mansion floor…
one observes, one sees what is before one
and from this one does not take
opinions and memories and revelations
and dogma and emotions and similes and metaphors
…one observes, one sees…
…everything else is conditioning,
structure and formation…
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 8:04 AM UTC
*blood stains her canvas
congealed crusts, fresh streaks
frayed corners and edges
the tattered toll of pain, loss
how best to depict my love on her
overlay her with beauty
to develop a patina of care over time
reduce her suffering to pentimento
her landscape shifts constantly
with the quality of her light
I must blend to the shade of her mood
her want...her need
work from the palette of my heart
in the spectrum of my love
paint her in courted color
every tone of every hue
brush her being with my caress
creatively styled to her moment
pastel tenderness...primary strength
bold strokes of passion...bright splashes of spontaneity
to portray for her a frameless existence
of unlimited intimacy and peace
but she does not rest on my easel
and I am merely dreaming of the art of love*
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 12:56 PM UTC
Plan to kiss no one without secret intent.
Plan to kiss no one without meticulous method
Plan to kiss no one without a hidden plan.
Now
You know
Who you are.
To think I should speak with you
Is pessimist-dismissed
So quickly
The pen drops
Before the thought
Crosses
The multiverse
Mind
Contained
In paper Cranes.
To think you would want
To want
To talk to me
Is so ridiculous
So out-there
So cover-up
Alien-conspiracy-theory
Secret-society
Cryptic-code
Cartography.
The phonetic
Background
Of my throat
Shuts down
Shuts up.
Vowels in my stomach
Bunch.
Curves
Of your face
Shadows of your mind
Overlay mine
To camouflage.
I could
And would love you,
Not ten fathoms
But deep enough
So
We are suspended where light waves
Cannot bend
Breaking on coral
Breaking on coma
Waking up sleeping sand.
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 2:39 PM UTC
Pained words
Heard at night,
Words rewind
Replay
Repeat, overlay
Become twisted
In the middle of the night.
Pained words
Twisted in the morning
Heard, back turned,
Nothing but empty tears
Pained words
Unshared
Interested and
Harmless.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 6:54 PM UTC
“I’m still in awe of words” (in life, as in poetry, timing is everything)
objects, humans, surprise and interrupt our
daily modalities, knocking us, yo! to the ground,
we, pounding it, for the word void appears,
the frustration of incapacity incarcerating,
accompanied by the loudest silenced scream,
of no poetry available, try again later!
in life, as in poetry, timing is everything
we walkabout, thinking of the scheduled eventualities, or
the dates calendar-circled, though some questioned marked,
in pencil inserted, will I be a mother, find me a husband,
a human grander grandee, fit to be with me a noble progenitor
of more than our generation, watching the sidewalk cracks for an
inkling of when, on or about such and such an alteration,
a seam undone,
a stumbling, seeing a realization as we fall, hands extending,
a notice of arrival,
all needing reconnoitering, commemorating, a poem prepared,
but none to no avail
in life, as in poetry, timing is everything
so we are in awe of words, so necessary, everybody knows,
the awe in awesome, a description for the pixels encapsulates
in I-phone photos,
the where and the why of when, I was grinning like a stupid fool,
the inability to deliver precisely when required the covering of
an appropriate description, your words, use your words, will
fail you spectacularly and so we remain awed, realizing
in life, as in poetry, timing is everything
but awesomely awesome word worlds, near and dear, held forever
in scrapbooks, the literary overlay of the treasures of everyday life,
are the still life of our longevity contextual, the celebratory,
the unexpected losses, largest to smallest, in size order,
kept fresh when you flip through those poems in dusty binders,
in oversized sewing boxes, yellowing in concert with our eyes,
graying with follicles of past pluperfect,
recalling not just the when’s, but the more important, now, the
wherefore and whereupon, the words marking the conjunctions,
recoding the recorded synapses firing sequentially, brain to fingers, the ah so of the poetry of lifetimes
“I’m still in awe of words” (in life, as in poetry, timing is everything)
<>
Saturday
September
21st
2019
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 1:31 PM UTC
I arrived into this world
already overwhelmed
unsteady, my eyes reflected deep pleading and worry,
*"I'm not sure I'm ready, are you sweet mommy?
Either way we're stuck with each other, best of luck,"*
said I to my mother.
I spent my childhood creating sanctuary
in my world of make-believe
so very often I would retreat
to my inner realm of fantasy.
I spent so much time just dancing around
to my own self composed symphonic sounds
I would improvise in my mind
but if not lost in that endeavor
I'd march about feeling clever
making up stories to speak on the spot
to read aloud from any book
cause I did not care what the words might read
I'd spin my own tale as I pleased
Still in this way , I overlay
a touch of magic into my days
it makes it possible
the supernatural ~
to coincide with what my eyes perceive
what my mind believes to be reality.
So when the night falls
gently over me, I lay peacefully
my body and the spirit of my soul departs easily
into the realm of innocence
where all that is has always been and always will be
th'ineffable thought of infinity.
When I wake to begin again
I understand the master plan
is co-creation
in the dance of Life.
Beautiful and tragic,
but always magic
nothing appears as it seems
when everything
is but a dream.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 10:55 PM UTC
My bones buzz
Electric ecstasy
Split into atoms
Nanotechnology
Plastic anatomy
Ego death is visibility
Vulnerable to all thoughts
Universe displays
Vision overlay
Don't touch the body
That once contained me.
Speakers breaking
House shaking
I no longer feel the need to speak
This vibration is all I need
Music is the air I breathe
I lie in silence
Enlightened
Form roads on my cheeks
Carve into my jaw
Slowly my lungs leak
I hope to see you thaw
I'm over me
I'm over sleep.
I'm learning to free my eyes
To close my mind
From crowded sights
Florescent lights
I'm consumed by night.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 2:15 AM UTC
The importance of maintaining balance,
in so much as sanity's building blocks.
A personal reflection of your highs and lows, each helpful for creative growth. Some stick around, as others come in flux.
Historically fixed in a similar headspace,
their presence placed for short or long.
We offer grace to those who help us, listen, laugh or object against the angst and tell us to our face.
An overlay in the dreams we hold,
plus those past mistakes which are often made.
These altered goods, associated schoolmates, bands of buddies, compatriots in cousins, a smile from a chum.
All state a claim in the memories of us aiming to belong, like everyone.
Sep 13, 2021
Sep 13, 2021 at 2:28 PM UTC
[ G Major 3/4 time]
Some nights I cant remember
All the things that happened
I never will get over
All the mornings after
How many loves of a lifetime
Walked right out my front door
While I lied-awake hopelessly
Wanting for more
Each notch in my bedpost
Another scar on my heart
Of the ten-thousand maybes
Who turned out to be not
They march right through me
In an endless parade
Insufficient remedies
For someone I cant replace
My pulse is the drum beat
Our love was the war
And their harmonies choke me
As I hang by my
Guitar chords
I keep on playing you
A song written for her
It has a different title now
The contents are undisturbed
Violins whisper
A dull aching pain
And in a hundred "I love yous"
I whispered her name
Each moment of ecstasy
That rips you away
Leaves the empty shell of me
Searching for an escape
But her song keeps playing
A phantom theme in my head
While you reach your crescendo
I'm just here in our bed
My pulse is the drum beat
Our love is the war
And our harmony chokes me
As I hang myself by my
Emptiness chokes me
As I hang myself and I
Suffocate
As I hang by my
Guitar chords
<instrumental - strings bridge>
<modulated harmony and waltz... piano>
<drums and acoustic front + choral vocal overlay "suffocate...">
Her pulse was my drum beat
My love was the cost
Cashed-in in self-sacrifice
It was me that I lost
In mirrors like pictures
I can see who I was
But I look so different now...
I became "I am because"
We shared our heartbeat
Our love was the war
and this song hangs
Something unfinished
I suffocate
Trapped in our tapestry
It's just me
Left to hang by my guitar chords
Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 1:08 AM UTC
Women should never
be allowed to shop
at the corner store,
where hot dogs, eggs, coffee
gas and scratch offs can be
bought all at the same time.
Inevitably, on a day she is
called to work for an hour
and a half shift, which means
it will take her twice as long
to get ready to work as it
will for her to be there.
This messes up the entire day
that she had planned for poetry
and pretending she does not need
or want a man to pump the gas and
inflate tires.
So she will go to the gas station
completely distraught that the
last 25 dollars before pay day and
her only day off till next week
will be completely ruined by
someone with a dental appointment.
That instead of eggs, hot dogs and coffee
that few dollars will be spent instead on
gas and scratch off's on the outside chance
that that last twenty five will mean she
will one day retire independent.
Hoping that there will not be any sparks
to blow her up as she spills gas all over
the station concrete, while she is furiously
scratching off the silver overlay of her
future.
Or maybe, sometimes we need a little "fuel"
occasionally. to keep us fighting, dreaming
and scratching for happiness, friendship or
for those things and people we need to
believe in.
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 10:13 PM UTC
She asked me the strongest drug I had ever done,
I responded with your name
Not MDMA, LSD, or *******
You kept me up
Intense heartbeat, face red, cheeks flush
sweat pouring, teeth grinding, actions rushed…
Bursts of color invade my visual receptors,
the sights are fluid movements through the lens of a kaleidoscope.
Music takes command of my limbs, now I’m putty in your hands
You have your way and we dance.
Left, right.
Left and right. In and out.
Breathe.
I take another hit of you.
Chemical energy circulates my veins
chills crawl down my spine and ice overlay my lungs.
I know I can’t get much higher but I’m addicted to my sins.
I take another hit and breathe you in again.
My eyes start to wiggle and roll towards the back of my head,
I should’ve left a long time ago,
before you killed me and left me for dead.
Overdosed.
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 1:53 PM UTC
Gabrielle Union wore a gorgeous fall look in New York City while promoting her show, Being Mary Jane, on Tuesday.
The 42-year-old looked like a vision in her fitted white Sophia Kah dress with crimson lace overlay, as she was spotted leaving Live With Kelly and Michael.
The short-sleeved frock featured intricate detailing on the upper portion, while the bottom half was all white.
The skintight dress, which showed off the Think Like a Man star's amazing body, fit her like a glove.
The pop of color from the wine-colored lace added a bold touch to an otherwise minimal look.
The Bring It On actress kept the bold vibes going by choosing shiny gold heels, which added a new dimension to the look.
She added gold rings to compliment her similarly hued strappy heels with gray polished nails.
The Being Mary Jane star wore her shoulder length dark hair loose and wavy.
Opting for a more vampy makeup look, the starlet wore smokey eye shadow, glossy red lips and rosy cheeks.
During her appearance on the morning show, the She's All That actress wore a more understated look, rocking gray slacks, a black top and bright pink heels as she spoke to Michael Strahan and guest host Ciara, who filled in for Kelly Ripa.
The brunette is married to NBA star Dwayne Wade, who plays for the Miami Heat. The couple first met in 2009 and married in August 2014.
Her husband has three sons: 13-year-old Zaire Blessing Dwayne, eight-year-old Zion Malachi Airamis and two-year-old Xavier Zechariah, from previous relationships.
The 33-year-old athlete also raises his 13-year-old nephew Dahveon.
On her show, she plays the character Mary Jane Paul, an on-camera reporter who has to juggle work, love and family.
The third season of Being Mary Jane premieres on October 20th on BET.
The starlet is also currently filming The Lion Guard, an animated TV series where she voices the character of Nala, set to premiere on the Disney Channel in 2016. She recently wrapped The Lion Guard: Return of the Roar TV movie, which premieres this November.
read more:www.marieaustralia.com/sexy-formal-dresses
www.marieaustralia.com/vintage-formal-dresses
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 2:18 AM UTC
...There's tooth and nail, fetters...
dead center the ring mastery of
this sun.
Morning ever after...mass epidemic
of surfacing qualities.
Ragged sparrows scraping
frozen mud...December-ing the divide
of years.
From bend to expanse,
the faint overlay that builds.
As each footfall becomes
self-contained, and in that
containment, arrival...abidance.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 2:40 AM UTC
Never was a Walt sorta Kat, Though I do understand his works and his um desire which has a , distinct overlay into and onto my life, that **** But Ezra, oh Ezra Pound, See I never even read a lick of his words, but a Picture a dear and well, um, interesting situation friend possibly, we will get to that latter, but A friend Justin Williams did a picture in Art class of Ezra, a pointillism portrait. don't have the picture on this drive but here is the original picture he was copying and it is found here: titled "73: RICHARD AVEDON 1923-2004 Ezra Pound at the Home "
https://www.liveauctioneers.com/item/1901663_richard-avedon-1923-2004-ezra-pound-at-the-home
Now ever since I saw this photo of Ezra pound Ihaving a migraine, which we have in common , I just related, to what I saw, and it was far more than a black and white picture, I saw the hues and colors of a man who was truly troubled by a knowledge, and as "Jesus" Yeshua Immanuel said in the The Nag Hammadi
Jesus said, "Let him who seeks continue seeking until he finds. When he finds, he will become troubled. When he becomes troubled, he will be astonished, and he will rule over the All."
and this I understood in the anguish in the picture and a moment one is hard pressed to hide ones true pains.
so a taste of his work, for today was the first time I have ever read it by choice of actually seeking it out. though this picture is my avatar on my OS system. funny how things are. ehh?
A Girl - Poem by Ezra Pound
The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast -
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.
Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world.
Ezra Pound
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 5:03 PM UTC
-listen man, I got the internet, in my hand.
There is just too much to think about, So true.
Imagine having all the time in the world to try,
and an ai to sort on my search criteria,
-what would I have loved to know?
outline history, done.
overlay Protestant Bible timeline.
overlay Parthian Empire
etc. BTDT ad infinitum fun item
Ai takes a rough draft life,
and makes all its test phazes open book.
To now. At the speed of that does not matter,
cut to the after the chase,
now, what matters?
Apr 28, 2023
Apr 28, 2023 at 12:01 AM UTC
Don't want to hide long
Lake flow of love in silence
Ensnare tears in petals missed
Let all writhing
Because i'm still here in my silence
The sky tells
On the way of events
Among the meshes of time
The trail is also becoming obsolete story implied
Made me choose to remain silent
Stranded on Overlay story
Don't you ever lie to me
You have taken away the night - My night
Thieves of my conscience..!
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
layer upon layer
layer upon overlay
multiples of subtraction
fools of the oldest days
sunshine stained
blessed by attraction
cooler than the coldest rain
moonlit plain
a growth flourished by ticks and tocks
a love not concerned with any of these clocks.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 2:43 PM UTC
we were
in bed
that day
when
there was a midday twilight
a daze crept over us
delicate
as a fast fog
it was the feeling of floating
a barely waking ecstasy
an unreal ethereal delirium
i cant describe it
it was
something
like nothing
ive ever felt before
in the belly of our canopy bed
in that forbidden flat
on a forever day
we laughed as she
pressed her head up
& pitched the draped overlay
wearing it
like a puffy white sombrero
as the
sun
filtered through
the linen cube glowed
a yellow shade
the two of us
waiting weightless
in this unearthly space
a monster teepee on a cloud
a sailboat in the sand
it all could have been
a heavenesque hallucination
but
for the fact that
she asked if i felt it too
i said i did
after she confessed
she had no words
to describe it
it was sublime
too simple
true
& it left by night
as we tucked in to watch movies
a mini projector hovering
images pressed against an endless cinema screen
almost as radiant
as our re-animation
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 11:47 PM UTC
Sleepless night
Insomniatic overlay
Dressed
Coffee in hand
Outside... Listening
As nature announces
The arrival
Of a brand new day
The night birds clear shrill
Accentuating
The whippoorwills petal soft coo
Tree frogs keeping rhythm
While the skyline
Gently eases down
The blackness
With the gentlest of pastel blue
From far far away
Comes the hoarse throated honking
Of a quickly approaching goose
Announcing it was coming through
No mistaken.
I did believe
The Happy song they are always making
Until that moment
As daylight broke the night
With the sudden crack of dawn
To my surprise this traveling troubadour
Singing as it went winging by
Turning out to be a swan
Meting out a greeting
Hello Hello Hello
Continuing to fly
While off in the waning distance
Fading with a sad persistence
Diminishing
The swan song ...finishing
With a distant cry
goodbye... goodbye.... goodbye
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 7:20 AM UTC
What greater gift could be given to me
Than that of a canvas staring blankly
Awaiting it's first brushstroke
In a flash a slash of color across its face
This potential has been placed before me
Like a puzzle piece from my memory
I will fill this void with my living energy
I will compose music for your eyes to see
I will write poetry for your heart to read visually
The power in my hands to put pigment upon paper
To portray a picture that depicts my inner nature
It's a purely creative endeavor
I pour myself into the paint
Each masterpiece contains part of me
In harmonious rhythm
I stain to stimulate
I dye to add drama
I shade to give grace
With an acrylic aesthetic
A cosmetic elegance
An oil overlay
A washing watercolor
The media is mine to design
Each line to represent my life
My gallery tells a story
Ever changing and growing
Forever framing and flowing
To draft love in a sensitive showing
Of my true self in painting
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 4:26 PM UTC