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Literature Text
Waiting is an art-formed
Protecting portraits from the ink
Spilling from the choices, filling to the brink
waiting is an artform
Confusing fillers for shades
Leaving gaps demonstrates
waiting is an art-form
Feeling out the brushstrokes; not rushed or forced
choosing the brush of fine hair to coarse.
waiting is my artform
Dancing with my fates
Finding perfection in blending of mistakes
Protecting portraits from the ink
Spilling from the choices, filling to the brink
waiting is an artform
Confusing fillers for shades
Leaving gaps demonstrates
waiting is an art-form
Feeling out the brushstrokes; not rushed or forced
choosing the brush of fine hair to coarse.
waiting is my artform
Dancing with my fates
Finding perfection in blending of mistakes
Literature
Saturn Chantey
Melancholy means black bilis, black
Bilis. Finally you understand, unless you already had
When it ran up down, body body,
And from your veins blasted happy
Tiny cancers that became you.
Literature
Fly Up To The Stars
Stars are twinkling in the night sky
they're shining bright when I walk by
I look up at them, up at them
and I sigh
yeah yeah
Stars are shining in the dark sky
the cosmos glitter while I stand by
I'm looking up at them, up at them
whispering
I'm looking up at them, up at them
wishing
and I cry
they're only lights and I know I
can't be the only one that hopes I
could fly, I could fly
fly up to the sky
touch the stars, touch the stars
and bring them to my bedside
and I cry
the moon is shining in the night sky
reflecting light from the nearby
star, I look up at it, up at it
and I sigh
yeah that moon in the night sky
the same moon in the day
Literature
Lexicon
I found my old dictionary today.
The new one is sleek, modern. A quietly efficient affair.
No room for unwieldy clunk, like sentimentn. refined or tender emotion; manifestation of the higher or more refined feelings. or levity n. lightness of mind, character, or behavior; lack of appropriate seriousness or earnestness..
This old one, though, is well worn. Hazel green cover with a hint of blue.
Cracks abound, tangling in the weather loved pages. Nebulae pour through them, eviscerating the mundane with the profundity of it all.
Rust curls up in its crevices, stealing away the remorseless taste of time. I found the notes in the side, the ones w
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I'm not really sure if this is piece has a finality or fully lends itself to the image I had in my mind's eye but for now it is finished.Please critique.
© 2014 - 2024 ViciousGalan
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