demolished-piano

Night is life Not of sound and urban light but shadow guests Who at their appointed hour enter Mind’s door, whose hinges having weakened swing wide open Slipping in, one after another, stiletto silhouettes in tow Hands leaving the door behind them slightly ajar For more guests to bend their legs around the corners, peering in So polite, arrange themselves at tables, steepled fingers staring, staring Against walls, the others lean, all wineglass and some debonair Murmurs, murmurs, minor clinks Until the final guest arrives The timid one who’s always late, who closes doors behind him quiet, sits They all have seated Eyes have turn

Scarlet Here arrogance There frustration, the short-lived genius among long Drawn breaths of mediocrity For a predator half-asleep behind low-walled gates Vermilion The birth of a vigilante when the idea dawned And spawned When a scheme germinated by the clipped paces Back and forth in a closet bedroom Crimson Spilled due to stringent calculations Additional crimson Spilled due to a string of miscalculations Alizarin Mania and panic Such as one who hoards the many secrets of others Telling each separate person a distinct lie (The hallmark of humans) Too distinct, and catalyzes paranoia as facts cross Fear And there lie the schism and the b

Take one line and stretch it according to The twelve positions of a clock and Connect three or four points until you have Triangles and squares to build a circle Dot twelve dots according to one clock then Smoothly curve them as if stirring coffee That is how you paint Renaissance. Take your prettiest china doll and ensure her Dress defies gravity then turn her body until She looks lazy and set her in motion on a swing Meanwhile, to design her room, harvest International spring flowers and splatter them All along the walls and ceilings That then is how you paint Rococo. This is how you paint Vertigo: Take your best Renaissance line and sw

Calico, for the print motif Doggedly dragging such weary eyes, Over repetitious days and nights that stretch and stretch Like a lounging yawn. Lace and satin, the ladies refined Sip tea, the sandwiches, a scented room lit By candle fire, while a storm pianist spurs-- Playing tempest song, as a deaf man found rue. For the haughty and potestas, velvet, as a queen Retiring as the evening, marches onward near Then fear, tiptoes in, as an owl silently swoops And even as ambition drives, some day the empire dies. The whisperer, a light chiffon Haunts the mind and then it taunts A memory lost but when regained Several corners have blurred and fra