The Catharsis
The Catharsis
Tragedy of Art
Tragedy of Art
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tabula rasaLoading...
courage in quittingLoading...
PersephoneLoading...
the Pied Piper of HamelinLoading...
today I am an understudyLoading...
in a picturesque green worldLoading...
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the velvety fabric, void of color
begs to be painted on by experience
untouched purity to be adorned with hues of paint
and brushstrokes of gold
your hands trace figures
and caress the fabric
purposeful strokes
that transform into intricate patterns
your benign nature
is a wall of security
your delicate words
soften even a brush’s barbed bristles
and your gentle hold creates mesmerizing beauty
will everyone be as gentle?
or will my canvas be littered,
defiled, and saturated
with pungent words
handled aggressively, impatiently
till all that’s left is a monstrosity
that has the audacity to be called art
a bow hurriedly lathered in rosin
saws across the taut strings
as notes ricochet
off the cramped studio’s walls
as my hand grips the mahogany base
eyes skim the sheet music
and feet tap in irritation
I mentally berate myself
for choosing to play the violin
whose tender song
I once connected with
but grew weary of over time
but as music lessons became dreadful
and practicing became a chore,
I persisted
continued to arrive at the studio with apprehension
and leave in desolation
but the more I tried to force a dying connection
the sooner I came to realize
the courage in quitting
courage in quitting
an unfamiliar melody
infiltrates his core
moving his body in obedience
to the lulling resonance
of the brass pipe
the boy’s eyes glaze over
like those of a bisque doll
as he runs through winter’s icy clutches
dismissing his mother’s pleas
he joins the assembly of children
blending in with his rosy cheeks
and flaxen curls
and together they trail behind the incongruous man
laughing, shouting
skipping, playing
up the snow-coated mountains
till they reach the Weser
and then
one by one
they immerse themselves into the river’s arms
deeper and deeper
till it engulfs them completely
and they fall prey to the piper’s malicious ways
stripping the parents of Hamelin of their beloved children
and leaving their cry of grief to echo indefinitely
infiltrates his core
moving his body in obedience
to the lulling resonance
of the brass pipe
the boy’s eyes glaze over
like those of a bisque doll
as he runs through winter’s icy clutches
dismissing his mother’s pleas
he joins the assembly of children
blending in with his rosy cheeks
and flaxen curls
and together they trail behind the incongruous man
laughing, shouting
skipping, playing
up the snow-coated mountains
till they reach the Weser
and then
one by one
they immerse themselves into the river’s arms
deeper and deeper
till it engulfs them completely
and they fall prey to the piper’s malicious ways
stripping the parents of Hamelin of their beloved children
and leaving their cry of grief to echo indefinitely
the Pied Piper of Hamelin
Persephone
a miniature statue sits prettily upon my dresser.
her legs delicately crossed at the ankle,
a hand resting on her jutting hip,
and her neck tilted in coquettish glee.
her presence is less cherished.
she is not sought after for Athena’s advice and wisdom,
nor is she revered for Artemis’ archery and precision.
instead, the goddess of spring,
is ridiculed for her juvenile nature.
for falling in love with her abductor,
the king of darkness.
but, no one said that the darkness was evil;
you assumed it.
Persephone saw the light,
within the shadows you run from.
so, she remained in the Underworld,
with the sole person who recognized her worth.
and they ruled besides each other on black ebony thrones,
imposing eternal damnation
upon unfortunate souls.
leaving behind a cautionary reminder.
the goddess of spring,
of warmth and light,
can still make you bleed prettily.
within the shadows you run from.
so, she remained in the Underworld,
with the sole person who recognized her worth.
and they ruled besides each other on black ebony thrones,
imposing eternal damnation
upon unfortunate souls.
leaving behind a cautionary reminder.
the goddess of spring,
of warmth and light,
can still make you bleed prettily.
today I am an understudy
today I am an understudy
in a theater of carping eyes
and brazen tongues
but their gaze falls right through me
leaving me to fade into the background
and blend into its shadows
here I am shielded from their criticisms
but also never on the receiving end
of their appreciative remarks
or hearty applause
I am stuck
my own insecurities
bound firmly to the soles of my feet
and so I wait
a silhouette of possibility
for my turn
when I am no longer afraid
of being blinded
by the piercing lights
today I am an understudy
but tomorrow I will be center stage
bound firmly to the soles of my feet
and so I wait
a silhouette of possibility
for my turn
when I am no longer afraid
of being blinded
by the piercing lights
today I am an understudy
but tomorrow I will be center stage
a picturesque green world
Based on Carlos Otero’s The New Green World of 2020
in a picturesque green world
a tree’s extended limbs
lean into the sun’s rays
like lovers locked in an eternal embrace
bathing in the sunlight
like a warm caress
foliage erupts from the tree’s feet
transforming into verdant valleys
green quilts that decorate mother earth’s skin
the landscape looks like a respite from humanity
where the blue heavens
and the lush greenery
can rest without consequence
out of people's poisonous clutches
because humans
they trample upon mother earth’s delicate feet
parching her body and scorching her insides
leaving her barren and exposed
we are selfish to a fault
perhaps we caused our own doom
and man is extinct
and this is what it would look like
when the forbidden fruit is restored
a picturesque green world
they trample upon mother earth’s delicate feet
parching her body and scorching her insides
leaving her barren and exposed
we are selfish to a fault
perhaps we caused our own doom
and man is extinct
and this is what it would look like
when the forbidden fruit is restored
a picturesque green world