A rendition to Immanuel Kant's views on art as established in the early nineteenth century, including a mesh of his views with my own on how art can be corrupted throughout the twenty-first century as well. Enjoy.
His voice had forsaken His speechless mouth Destined for greatness But inclined to the incompetent Soul of his attitude Your majesty’s greatest honor Was rather his mind In times of battle Eras of built confrontations Deaths of arduous nations And feasts of the uniformed men’s blood An empire beheld him, All who longed … Continue reading Bertie
With almost a flat open I still could not see The words in the letter Bestowed upon me Seldom had I yearned to be At the peak of staggering mountains For I often found myself In hollow valleys Of dry, echoing lands An invisible thirst to cherish And be cherished: The bastard hidden … Continue reading The letter
In honor of Maya Angelou's birthday, here is my adaptation of one of her most widespread poems.
With eyes that gazed At the reachable circumstances Yet unreachable for I have made them I lurked And lurked Expecting life’s arrival Until I lurked no more For the luxury of passing-time Is one that cannot be salvaged. Had I learned not to lurk --But to reach-- At my lovers Without fear of being … Continue reading To reach
I built a fort around myself In the vast lands of unimaginable sharing I enclosed myself in the ruse of my own being; But not because of misery; Be fooled not. I built a fort upon myself Not for protection But for the inconceivable lack Of walls. Be fooled not; However The fort does not … Continue reading I bult a fort
In the flock of birds, I was an eagle, and while they learned to fly, I was meandering the skies I grabbed their premature wings and Dispersed their feathers in hope of enlightening them to their ultimate goal But still They cried in fear I was a wicked beast to their eyes. A sorceress … Continue reading To fly
As we travel through the course of our lifetime, are we truly evolving, or rather approaching our beginnings?
She wore her black veil Amidst the colors that surrounded. A widow to the world And an antiquity to living, For her spirit had been buried By the lack of life; the feasts of death; and the woes of nights that overflowed in monotony She was not old Nor had she physically faced death, … Continue reading Emily
I saw two boys holding hands yesterday Strolling up the school stairs Consumed by the youth That surrounds them Their eyes: propelled by the light of day Their feet dancing to the palpitations Of their swaying hands Humming to the gentle melodies unknown by the corrupted after going up the stairs their hands … Continue reading The innocence of youth