I Live Like Art

I am a poet, and I write life as if it was words that spilled out of my lungs, no, not the heart, because with lungs I can breathe poems and lyrics, with heart I can sing the joy of writing.

I have with time an understanding for how people are unconsciously living their life. So time does speed up for some and snailing steadily forward for another. But after all, they could at least breathe, but probably it’s easier said than done because they have befriended stress like a pet and could not snail and rejuvenate in the time that pace slowly towards the daunting sun. The sun is no danger, but they keep running beneath it as if it doesn’t exist because at times they take its warmth rays for granted.

Well, people are close off in their own mind and live as if they have forever to breathe, but with each breath, they are more close to death, but still, they overlook the heartbeat that yearns to capture their attention. I understand why because no one has ever taught them the art of living, living in the knowledge that they are loved, and they need not strive. They are love, but they cheat and play themselves as if they weren’t. Why? Stop the frantic search outside the heart, and look for a moment within.

It’s dark there, but the awareness of your observation of the darkness is your light. So lit up your light brighter to peek inside the heart and listen to the voice which talks in your mind.

Tell me, what does it say? Is it your friend? Or is it your enemy? Can you tell the difference, if you can’t, how could you choose which one to marry?

I have long ago married the voice of seraphim, and I am a faithful housewife with poetry in my cells.

I live like art and walking with my head up high, but I don’t drink wine, only at times, I do smoke my lungs black. But cigarettes are not my muse, and I am writing with the tide of the ocean when the moon cause it to rage in waves.

Romance is indeed my finesse, and I can’t live with just only air. I always have to listen to music that tickles my ears with symphony so I can surf with the tide that is caused by the moon. Sleepless nights are my friends, they come with inspiration, the moon and stars are my muses, and I can’t leave them to themselves without offering a sonnet and phrases of my artistic skills of writing. I am not ungrateful.

So who am I? Maybe the Queen of seduction with my words, or just a lady with sneakers and comfy sweater. Scarf drafted around my neck in a soft pink color and glasses with intelligence.

I write my way into your heart and steal kisses of your soul. I don’t play with your feelings, but I will run my fingers through your hairs and strum you like a harpe. Tender touch with my soft hands, fingers that close up the cracks in your heart. I pour golden light from the words I speak with my mouth to soften your mind. I am not someone who you can call and ask for mere friendship; I will come and bring you the galaxy and promises of forever, I love with tenderness and wildly consideration.

Yes, my imagination runs wild, often I get lost in the dream of a better life, and with a fantasy so hazard that you will have to scream for mercy because I am danger, and I breathe fire of passion, and I am bold once I am in love. So, if you yearn for a love that never ends. Keep me in your heart and soul, and life will be different. Your soul will know of immortality, and an eternal life awaits the invitation to jump over to the ether of paradise, another dimension, higher up where you shall know bliss and ecstasy.

Do you accept this invitation, to once and for all drop the chaotic voices in your head?

Because I am poetry and I will soften your mind with my words.


Leave a Reply

error: Content is protected !!
%d bloggers like this: