A Weird Sense of Nothingnessp.s: Could you also please give me the links of your favorite dA artists? Thanks.
Epitaph IThe day I self-forfeited terrestrial longings:Epitaph I
(wine and cigarette) (space and time)
I witnessed
your ploughed vineyard growing again & feeding the maggots of sexual endeavour.
And how scandalizing was To Discover Life on your (desert)ed thighs & your Lunar Anus!
Gilles de RaisRamparts enshrine the biblical apple; stalling ablazeGilles de Rais
in the backyard of an abiding cathedral.
And on an estranged twig A queer meadowlark flings the melody: "O De Rais, O De Rais, With your malevolence,
You shall draw nigh!"
Underneath the tarnished oubliette, Lays a daunted demoiselle, In her dreams: flows a ghastly fleet Wherein a corsair taunts With his tainted flannel and golden teeth.
From the outskirts of blue countryside A mareschal rides, along the dreams, &
Music and MotionA periwinkle twinkled in the wake of the morning, Pink amidst the frost, quivering as the phantom of fire; Then children appeared, white-teethed and gambolling, Afar the chapel they sang, beautiful like a choir.Music and Motion
Crowned at the catafalque, silence does teem The music of the deafened and nonchalant: Chiming the Tick-tack of the wheeled heart With the Whoosh of the oboe of sun-beam.
The gods were smiling – sparkling the pink clouds, Or the Sister burbled me thus, dewy and wise; Let the peacocks march now, proudly to my shroud To colour my misery and to seize my sile
The Knights of CarcassonneA wild equestrian rushed inThe Knights of Carcassonne
From the tales of children His left hand was bleeding And he presented himself as a solitarian.
He told us ‘I’m a legendary knight, Drifting from plateaus to quiescent deserts Here and there, I salute and biblically fight, I kiss the bride and then ride.
He looked at the towers of Carcassonne Her tiptoes touching the sky, Left majestically beautiful and alone, Her head lies sleeping on the lake of rye.
Wine was turning orange, And blood, heretically blue; Daggers were the syringe; And prayers, the song o
Agony
why why why
--
"Feel the rain on your skin, no-one else can feel it for you!"
"We all have the choice to take the lead or follow, I want to feel the lights shine on me!"
--
"And if there's another thing I hate, it's a poem wherein the poet refuses to tell you what the hell he's talking about."
-Dave Barry
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