Category: Poetry

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In Layman’s Days

in layman’s days
sorrow yet reigns
in remnants
of our love’s refrain
disseminating
through these veins
like silken web
to dying flame
a sallow face
of shallow waste
e’er haunts the gallows
hollow space
as wraiths in fallow fields
yet reap the harvest
of a heart’s disgrace
none can replace
the solace lost
absconded by
the albatross
e’er perched atop
the arch of Eden
bound by freedom’s
final cost
where pandered woe
bleeds disarray
sleeves brandishing
a heart of clay
turned languid
from the anguish
of exsanguination
on display

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Tripping

we experience
our own expression
subjectively

in the form of dreams

our subconscious
is the peripheral landscape

flourishing between
the diametrical opposition
of a contiguous mirror

as we stand
in the midst
of chaotic illusion

alluding to the infinity
persisting in each dimension

and that
of our existence
within every aspect
of eternity
itself

as oneself

as everything
and nothing

in perpetual states
of entropic balancing

behind the masquerade
of conscious awareness

through the cosmic filter
of relevant perception

personified

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Separation

imprisoned
in irons
of ivory’s irony

inconsolable
impenetrable

in spite of ourselves
a splintered perfection

o, splendorous winter

let us seep into the silent spring

to sing assuagence
and sate the urgent seas
with tempest

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It Matters Not

it matters not

what sinewy strength
you strut
with such braggadocio

the artifice
auspiciously adorning
your display

what conquest
you proclaim
in compensation
for your lacking

what brazen
domain
you should presume
over mother nature

what flagrant disregard
that you would show
your fellow
human

the speed
at which your steed
feeds dust
to sate your weary foes

the dubious dimensions
nor ornateness
of your codpiece

the arbitrary
shackles
in which you confine
your pawns

the clamor
of your calls
to claim a throne
by way of bloodshed

it matters not

for you
will never
be a man

without first
embracing feminism

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Original Synthesis

perhaps none dare
to venture
beyond
the comfort

of the semen
stained illusion
that warps
their precious
window to the world

to bear
witness
to the scandal:

the

“original sin”

of woman;
creating;
mankind.

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Avoidant

avoidant
that’s what they
call it

the truth
is that i’m terrified

scared
out of my wits

afraid
of the horrors
that await

in the unknown
abyss
of uncertainty

where all of my dreams
go to die

the term
“avoidant”

to me
implies
willfulness

the only thing
i so desperately wish
to avoid

is this

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Such Dreams Expire

pray this memory
tell no lies

in light
of truth
since shone

to strip me
of my last reprieve

pray not
these newly fallen whispers

speak ill
of our erstwhile tales

should they unravel
all my world

would vanish
into despair

for every sinuous
sorrow felled

arose
a sanctuary

that once
we shared

to dare
such dreams expire

but time
forever
radiates
in solemnity

and thus i am fraught
with this aching moor

of that which
i can never
come to mourn

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For Your Kiss – Max Meunier

My latest poem on Sudden Denouement.

Max Meunier's avatarSudden Denouement Collective

For Your Kiss – Max Meunier (Max Meunier Poetry)

i lay the braided stars
before your precious countenance

that you may walk
the path of light

where gods
no longer dwell

for we are but a figment
of ephemeral affectation

reflecting in the tear
that wells
in worlds
wont to forget

the season of surrender
shall not plunder my resolve

to beckon at your call
under the restless moon’s fluoresce

awakened…

stripped and strung

in astral flecks
that flickered with foreboding

the myths depicted
in the dithering
of days foregone

still haunting,

as your fragrance wafts
into the garden
florid waifs found desiccant

as wistful sentiments
entwine me
in an urgent yearning

for your kiss

[Max states: “I write about the things going on in my life. I am a feminist, humanist, cat loving musician bound by whimsy and the incessant analysis of hyper-vigilant observations.  I am obsessed with…

View original post 23 more words

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Freedom of Words

i have never written
anything

these words
are not
mine

these thoughts
i may
possess

to some degree

perhaps
i act
as the filter

through which
the collective
experience
accrued
by this feeble form

speaks

to the world

my expression
does not belong
to me

for i am unable
to behold its presence

our words belong

to one another

just as love
suffers

no dominion

but persists
in the form
of all things

in every temporal instance
as the one
singularity

of our existence

thank you
for sharing
in this experience

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Every Day

every day
we awaken

edging ever closer
to oblivion

none
can say
how or when

some dare
ask why

only one
stands
to find
out

i for you
and
i for i

[Artwork: M.C. Escher]

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