RevelationWhenever AngelsRevelation by ThyPoetSorcerer
roll off the tongue it tastes like
Mal du PaysLes terres sont nues, les collines couvertesMal du Pays by ThyPoetSorcerer
de peaux brutes tannées presque blanc
& on a emporté l’atmosphère, lui coupant
le souffle - comme une bougie dans le noir.
Sols de nuit fredonnent leurs berceuses,
des oiseaux se perchent tête en bas
sous les cèdres
& le moment est enfin
venu quand mon ombre s'est enfuie avec
Arylide (Precession)[Alternate version (English with French postlude) follows]Arylide (Precession) by ThyPoetSorcerer
& jours de bois flotté auront transmué en promesses défaiillantes,
sèches sur place—des roses fanées sur l’ancien rebord de marbre,
attendant patiemment les vents de tempêtes pour se laisser éclater,
leurs échelles translucides infusant l'air avec le parfum rouillé qui étaient
les marées dans mon sang & la saumure de mes prières les plus calmes.
& ce qui reste, doit toujours graviter ardemment vers l’argon-arylide
de ton sillage—obstinée à te rattraper—sans jamais s’y rendre.
By then your argon-arylide lips will have set
several thousand times in the west, skinning
Venu’s belt skywide, letting in Shadow-Earth’s
dark caress, if only to annihilate the last trace
of our beautiful, tragic romance.
* * *
Vigil For Diamond-Core StarsBut this has always been a whole lifetime worth of kissing,Vigil For Diamond-Core Stars by ThyPoetSorcerer
because warm living bodies call inevitably for this long vigil
—it goes a bit like, see, hear, fear in the night, and then
it cuts us in half at the belly button, and our tummies get
all prickly like an alligator's mouth. We surely revel onto
cozy bed-musings, the prickly tummy sort of bed-musing,
the one human-eyed alligators crave for, the one we always end up
feeling utterly confused about as we dip our heads into a cool bath.
And how nice a bath would be when we just want to get back home
and highways are covered in angry bees, and good people wish
for wings, even bug wings—but wings don't necessarily mean joy,
just take a look at the sugar plum fairy, sobbing her mascara into
a high-pressure mush—soon crystallized carbon—otherwise known as
black diamond—otherwise known as the core of some hyperdense
white-dwarf stars. A diamond core is a sensible thing to aim for,
instead of that tar, cotton-
About a girl(French version below)About a girl by WhitePlumFragrance
Naiad, braving the tumultuous streams without risk
Your crystalline beauty illuminates these shabby, spineless and muddy reeds,
The softness of your skin like a caress that even the sea air couldn't bring me;
Oh My, I'd like to snatch this ivy leaf which covers you way too much!
I accomplished the most perilous labour just by staring at you;
My Hesperide, your breathtakingly high curves entice this pilgrim, blinded mortal,
And force naked and fool men to carry their own Iliad out to conquer you.
The singing of your voice shall guide us through this long, calm watercourse to the Elysium.
Your smile, forbidden sin, makes me break all my oathes.
For a brief moment, I vow to let myself be fooled by these pipe dreams of fantasy -
I want to dedicate this lyric song you've inspired me to the Gods, Polyhymnia,
You got me sailing on the river of dreams.
About a girl
Naïade, bravant sans péril les flots tumultueux
Weaving Night Skies from SynapsesShe was a girl with sloppy handwriting.Weaving Night Skies from Synapses by purplejeans1
A girl who would twirl her hair around her fingers
And her fractured memories and dreams always lingered in her mind
She was one of a kind
A girl who picked up a worm while everyone else squirmed, disturbed.
A girl whose carried her imagination like a balloon around her finger
It was so big, so vast, that she didn't fit in with the others.
Sometimes she tried to make herself smaller so
She could make way for her big brain
But no matter how far she shrunk,
She remained the junk of society. At least that's what she thought.
Her parents' sobriety was rare. Her own home was like an asylum
And some days she wanted to peel the floorboards from the kitchen and
Hide underneath. She taught herself to weave night skies from her synapses when
She felt like collapsing, and it worked, so now she keeps her mind
Dancing, imagining things like what the color blue tastes like and how summer smells.
Her thoughts are all she needs here in this dun
⚜ 🍁 |
<< Je ne suis pas de ceux que l'amour console. Il en va bien ainsi. Qu'est-ce, en effet, qui me serait plus inutile à la fin qu'une vie consolée? >>
"I am not one of those who love comforts. It is certainly the case. What indeed, would be more useless for me than to end my life comforted?"
My flash fic: sphericsorcery.deviantart.com