Coloured Spectrum

I see, colours off spectrum,
Pristine and regimented for a steady diet.


White waves, its flag surrenders with grace,
With nakedness, shame drools, la ojos negro;
Blushing cheeks, in the blistering snow,
Fluttering, from cocoon to intricately delicate.


Eclipse the plight of consciousness,
Distract eyes, detract idolatry, suffer no foolishness.
The single mind’s eye.


Personality coloured in the most favored light,
My moth’s flame flickers slightly;
Restoration of a renaissance man,
In allusions of egotism, arrogance.
An oasis in the basin is below valleys and pastures,
Far beyond the hills.


Definitively, romance dipped in rancid sultriness.
Oppressively, imagination is the great liberator.
Recklessly, mediums of art paint horrifying terror with pleasure.
Blessed is the confusion.


The mason with the red stones,
paves the brick road with good intentions.

Stormy: Oblivious Thought

Past the Weeping storm-front,
Meandering through apathy,
Elated accomplishments play hide and never find.


Vanity admires its ugly reflection;
So gorgeous, the image is hypnotizing.
Squinting for a closer glimpse,
The stranger’s love nurtures with maternalistic protectionism.


Besieged by deafening silence,
Quiet walks bellow uncomfortable truths to the obviously sightless.


In the twilight of adolescence,
Sneering horizons fulfill promises;
Debts must come to light;
Substance in this new birth leave matters yet to be desired.


Common generalities procure the thoughtless narcissist,
Selfish and unaware,
In the shadows of this ignorance,
Spiritual dormancy is indistinguishable from death.


Blinded by absurdities;
Bound in slavery by odd idiosyncrasies;
Dreaming false truths from fallacies;
Romancing our favorite idolatry.


The storm’s last tear undulates a proposal;
Without taste, its flavor is apparent.
Cynicism becomes a troubling religion;
Attraction postulates a blistering new affair,
The scandal tantalized eyes seeking salaciousness.


In life, men seek posthumous praise from numerous mistresses;
When works of heart live on, she has been faithful.


The wise old man is forgiven his youthful trespasses,
Though his wife’s heart has a long memory.
Long past memories are loving.
Love itself must live of both flesh and beyond.
Hearts often lie in beautiful melodies.

Return to Poet's Corner

Poetry usually strikes me in moods. Recently, I've found myself outside of the poetry mood that strikes me and inspires most of the pieces I write.


However, today I found myself in a poetry mood. Perhaps, part of it has to do with Valentine's Day, but most of it does not. I'm not really sure either way.


So, once again, I will back a bit more regularly.