Thursday, January 19, 2012

"Her Blank Canvas: Perfection"

"Her Blank Canvas: Perfection" 

I stare at your canvas:
Smooth and fair,
Beautifully bare,
Yet somewhat aware of my intentions. 
Most of which I fail to mention;
Leaving you to question:
Do I truly favor your complexion 
Or am I feigning and pretentious?

Make no mistake. 
I will issue no amends
For what is seen with this lens. 
Blank is where beauty begins. 
The monocle is powerful,
The microscope offers hope;
And the hopeful use bifocals;
But you deserve my naked eye. 

It alleviates my stress
To watch you undress. 
It's the moments that I savor
that promote my steadfast labor;
Contrasting your edges
Like shears through construction paper,
Love dangling over ledges
to be admired by the neighbors,
Blotched with sweat and wine
But still so rhythmic in design. 
Happenstance is how we're defined;
So I always take my time. 

There's no need to rush. 
Just gently graze my brush. 
Unwavering whiskers dance and prance
With the rhythm of a lush. 
Random moves become consistent
As each stroke is more insistent. .
When it comes to spreading moisture,
Passionate wrists remain persistent. 
Contingent upon one's inclination
And the level of infatuation,
Resolve is lost and revelry is stationed;
Giving way to voracious saturation. 

I will not spare elaboration. 
I fawn because it's necessary. 
Such a wonderful work of art.
I'll keep you from each adversary. 
I sit here with stationery;
Writing to the love I've missed. 
Extensive letters travel by feather;
Asking you to reserve my kiss. 
If I recall, I couldn't resist:
Nights and mornings met with bliss
And the moaning would not desist
Until ink smeared across your papyrus. 

Wonderous colors line your walls
Whilst these fingers crease through halls
And not one reaction stalls. 
Love springs free like waterfalls. 
You lack the impurities
That this lost world longs to see.
One glance resolves my faculties
And spares them of my savagery. 
Angry hands tear apart
And I would never harm my art.
I wouldn't know where to start. 
You're autographed within my heart. 

You're so sexy.It's a shame. 
Too good for a picture frame. 
Just so loving.It's so lovely. 
Legs like pages wrap and hug me.
I'd embark on a pilgrimage
For one of your still images. 
Photos filled with awe and grandeur
Worth the ransom of a lineage. 

Some say that you appear dislodged;
Looking misshapen and archaic. 
They may see you as a hodgepodge;
But you've always been my Mosaic. 
It's hard for me to look past
How I love to stain your glass;
Wetting my whiskers for a feeling
Before I splash across your ceilings. 
Let the men and women know. 
We shamelessly merge within windows. 
With great detail, I aim to please. 
Great artists work on their knees. 

You frustrate me.You get on my nerves;
Trying to draw those heavenly curves. 
I can't find the matching stencils. 
I don't have a lot of pencils. 
I could use concrete and chalk;
But you're better than sidewalk. 
You're too gorgeous for the street. 
You won't be trampled under feet. 
All I have are these wide eyes;
The watercolors for your thighs. 
All I have are eager lips
Ready to trace across your hips. 
Smooth the edges with fingertips. 
Plot around and take a trip
Til that lifeless, empty canvas
Leaves very little to be managed,

But then…I stare once more. 
And decide to leave it alone
For lust can be repeatedly sketched;
But our love is etched in stone. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

"Shiny Dirt And Sweet Treats"

"Shiny Dirt And Sweet Treats"

Kick up some dust. 
Watch the particles disperse
Like nickels that are flushed
From a heavy coin purse
Of the generous mother
That raises sisters and brothers.
They share affection for confection;
Yet they fight among each other.

Soft, sticky sweets linger
On the little boy's fingers;
So they begin to lick the tips;
The same tips that trace lips
And dance around the hips
Of young girls that tease and strip.
They initially feel empowered;
But are bound to lose their grip.
The fruit they yield has gone sour;
So they are given wine to sip;
Ensuring that they will slip
As they are taken on a trip.

Soft fingertips
riddled with acrylics,
Chemicals and cosmetics
About as real as aesthetics.
About as fake as a peg leg
Until breached like a cracked egg;
Broken and brittle,
Feeble and fickle.
Less appealing when bruised.
Not very effective when used.
Laying ruin to their simplicity
Replacing it with a ruse.

Authenticity is not a liability.
It will not impede progress.
It does not alter the process.
It will not honor the claims
Of those who choose to digress
Out of fear of being tamed.
Those who deem the world lame
Forget that nothing remains the same.
Life will be their favorite game.
The fast lane is worth cruising;
But when little is left of fame,
Was the winning worth the losing?

If they're any good at choosing,
They can pick through my rhetorical,
Key in on that which is focal
And hopefully avoid the historical.
Repetition is not redefinition.
One can deliberately tear it apart;
But that will never make it art.
Every ending has a start.
Those hips don't move
The way that they used to.
Her peers fled with the years.
His fan base finally outgrew too.
She used to dance in the dark.
She shakes and shivers in sunlight.
The wine is still delicious;
But the liver is dead to rights.
The bottle is bare and dry;
So he begs on behalf of his family;
But no coin purse is observed.
Mom can't give him any candy.
No nickels meet his fingers.
No pennies rubbed together.
Only a few memories linger.
The rest is lost with forever.

I went for a walk this evening.
The wind raced past my face.
Lifeless fragments danced in rhythm
As if they were happily misplaced.
Something glimmered on the ground.
As i kicked away the dust,
I examined what I've found:
A new coin was starting to rust.
I gave it to a little kid.
He was trying to buy some candy.
He just placed it in his pocket.
He said it would come in handy.
Maybe a child can teach the world.
He is focused on transition.
His mission is driven by ambition.
This aspiration is his definition.

Making haste with your decisions
may lead to adverse conditions.
Patience grants you the permission
To separate growth from decomposition.
Life is full of fawn and lust.
Every trial will test your trust.
Take heed before you dash and thrust
Or you'll be lost among the dust.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz