paid past remembrances with flecks of paint,
precision in placement,
making it seem that
oil contains consciousness,
gnawing novelty off nostalgia,
coy smile to crucify me with,
each tooth a tempest to cast me
off my path to Ithaca and Penelope,
my prize and bed forgotten.
Art bleeding out the pores,
The pains and joys that it’s expressing, flowing from out the core,
The wholly stock and store of a soul shaking itself from slumber,
Seeking in it a lesson to offer umbrage instead of lumber.
A stage set in its components, wood and screws and paint to sway perceptions of what would otherwise be malaise and restraints,
Seeking to stake a claim in saints and statesmen, a sinner or a psychopath sincerely, to make a statement:
Posted in Poetry, Slam
Tagged art, dance, joy, lies, maestro, music, orchestra, pain, painting, pride, sculpture, stage, theater, truth, writing
Rumors, delighting in humor,
Tragedy looming on the verges of speech.
Feet upon the stage, frantically making sounds of fury,
Signifying nothing when the lights come down for good.
Sighs, before the sun came up, painting paused,
For sucking and straddling and quiet cumming secretly backstage.
Posted in Love, NaPoWriMo, Non-fiction, Poetry
Tagged acting, building, cleaning, feet, fellatio, fury, light, money, music, night, orgasm, painting, rumors, sex, sighs, sleep, sound, speech, stage, stretching, theater, tragedy