Hello everyone. First of all, I want to thank each and everyone one of you for your participation on my blog—through each like, comment, reblog, and submission—it has not been unnoticed. I thank everyone for giving me the encouragement to keep writing and posting, along with helping me keep this blog alive. I thought I… Read More Poem Collaboration! (Closed).
you’ll always be alone in the city; gone, the final breath in the icy mouths the secret of a lover, in the absence of morning and the affinity of dark at night; a fucked up dream stares left in its presence in the old city lights, warmer than the protestation that rebels against animal bones… Read More City.
Hello and Happy Earth Day everyone. I hope you are all doing well and safe wherever you are. There is only one week left until my poem collaboration closes. The theme concerns of freedom, how it impacts you, and what it means to you. It is a collaborative effort from the WordPress Community to create… Read More Collaboration Poem Ends In One Week.
isolate the modernities carnations touch the wind, mocking them, like a cigarette in the abandoned sunlight, the entropy, monstering god-like shores fragmenting ends of the mind, traversing the watery rock for the sea, the mouth left behind from the cave, teeming with blood; the mountain defines the reflection in your eyes, where have you been?… Read More Modernities.
The likeness of snow-covered heaps on desert-searing nights Of a scathing wind that cursed a name and brought it By the crook of a deserted nest sunbathed by bare hands, Seducing a whistle to the primeval waters that shoehorn rocks Reflected with an awakening flutter within a cold room With lip of ice and loitering… Read More Mes mots dans ce rêve.
We stopped in the primordial catacombs Waiting for the wrinkled aromas unto fresh Italy, And fog that had diverged the roots, laine with fallen roses; And I’ve heard the lonesome flow around the shore, Unrest among the madmen and women in the streets, And no more betwixt the gleaming roads, and yellow winters From before—“Let… Read More A Red Hyacinth.
Buried under the heaps of the apple pommes, The pomace piled on the path of rain, And we were on the dim stones and bloodroots And stamped, feeding fleurs de lotus; The moon pardons in a red silence, a crying reverie, And it hosts light; begot blue springs, Buried under the flickering of its flower,… Read More Shadow of the Dream.