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Blind romanticsBlind romanticsBlind romantics
"Only freedom to find, when you look inside". The mantra of romantics now blind.
Our definition determined by the mission. What defines us to others is still just the veneer. Democracy in our heart and breath merely austere.
This land of so-called liberty is home to us. In this wasteland of blind romantics, we dare not transgress
boundaries of the mind - laid in excess.
Fighting forever feverishly for freedom. At the same time we tie our leash, not to hang, but to stop the bleeding.
Go to work, send your kids
by ~Master-of-Nothing
VineyardVineyardVineyard
I once walked past an apple tree. To some degree more free than me.
While I was walking, the tree could not. Still it was swaying a bit, nodded and rocked.
Wind journeyed towards us. Hailing cheerlessly, waking me up.
I noticed I had become like a statue - glued to the spot.
It took some wind to find, rewind and unwind. Before the chilling breeze hit, I was unable to admit that the tree was merely resting; not caring a bit.
by ~Master-of-Nothing
Car crashWindshield crying, tears wept away. Speedometer howling – trees beginning to sway. World on canvas, protuberant in the middle. Strokes of paint seen through the neck of an empty bottle.Car crash
Wind wearing out on the car. Throttle spent on the wind. Rain seems so far away. It nearly fades.
Art on display every day. Indifferently different. Apathetically empathic. Knowingly unknowing.
Snapshot of a former self just not existing on itself. You should permit yourself to admit and commit; don't allow your wit to quit.
Ev
by ~Master-of-Nothing
RemnantRemnantRemnant
Broken flower petals, withering in an ocean of smoke. An image that's smoldering hot, spoke but broke and choked.
Sun beyond the mountain, mounted to the water – nearly fixed – touched down and took the day with.
The shattered sun did not settle. Its rays merely provoke and wish they stay on spot – and come out when evoked.
Water springing from the fountain, water joined and mixed landed a new myth.
And one broken petal, wearing a velvet cloak, knew she was destined to rot; her c
by ~Master-of-Nothing
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Devious Journal EntryDevious Info
- Interests: Literature, art, economics, politics, cosmology, conspiracies
- Favourite movie: The Silence of the Lambs
- Favourite genre of music: Metal and classical
- Favourite poet or writer: None in particular
- Favourite game: Max Payne
- Favourite gaming platform: PC
- Favourite cartoon character: Batman / V
- Tools of the Trade: Pen
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~Mikaela
I actually had a poet come speak at my school today, his name is James Ragan. he's pretty well known. his works are great, you should check them out. on top of that, he's a nice guy!
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~Mikaela
I'll be sure to look him up but I don't know if his books are available here in the Netherlands.
And thanks for the watch! I'm actually uploading stuff tomorrow so you'll have something to actually watch then, haha
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~Mikaela
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