you want me to seal these lips from the world;
so you can rise from my silence
you call me weak
so you can stand tall on false righteousness.
I will bot be tamed to be the woman you enslave with your pious approval
beauty isn’t something foreign to my repertoire
You just shamed me into painting it ulgy
At any given moment, we could die.
There could be an accident, a crash, the whole word could explode.
The worst part would not be dying
it would be
dying with the regret and saying
“I wish I did that…”
Live your life to the fullest!
Poetry is putting a diaphanous veil over something unappealing, speaking regarding it just subdued enough to put into oblivion how abraded and festering and suppurate the wound is.
It’s a language of emphasizing inspiration, subjectivity – of Romanticism and painless augury, full of fanatical sentimentalism and compelling twists of the tongue.
Metaphors are hazardous travesty, using a sort of transfiguration to turn wordless sentiment into imaginable circumstances.
The way the anguish rios through yoyr body and flusters your every bones compelling you to envision misery as it pull you down to great depths and choking breaths.
The truth is, poetry is a deceiver, a fibber, an equivocator. Never fall for its exquisitely crafted stanzas causing slips into the dense fog of nostalgia.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
I haven’t posted anything lately because I have been so busy.
Thank you 2017 for the ups and the downs. Thank you for making me feel best and worst at the same time.
I am the kind of person who doesn’t ask for too much but hey, God is good for giving me just the right amouny of everything.
Thank you for making me realize that I am starting to live my life…. again
bring it on.