prism womanShe was bornprism woman
A woman of the tides Of dancing flames Of boundless depths And of fleeting mysteries.
On days like this She exhaled deep Blue And shivered
White. Her locks shook off The dust Of things
Forgotten.
Especially on hotter days, She glowed bright
Sunlight. Her lips burned Crimson And she danced on coals Screaming to the skies To echo
Thunder.
But in grayer seasons, She lay still, Obstinate like stone, Asleep while it rained And washed around Her
Land of my fathersLand of my fathers Of my Great Mother Majestic, womanly, divine, She lies quietly to her rest. Weary.Land of my fathers
It was only then We knew, Trembling in her sleep, Her quake that humbles us, Brings us to our knees. We cower in fear.
Her dreams are disturbed She weeps and drowns us In our safe places. Our bodies submerged
In her salt.
Her nightmares, disturbing. The men of the land Are at the mercy Of her dark psyche.
What then, they ask, is enough? Enough quiet? Enough fire? Enough tears? &
oh my
--
The artist will not fear the censor.
The great will not be constrained by the small.
--
Laurent.
My website: [link]
--
I have forced myself to contradict myself in order to avoid conforming to my own taste.
--
Mon blog : [link]
MY PRINTS!!!! [link]
You found me! You stealthy, stealthy stalker you!!
--
Bite my lip and close my eyes
Take me away to paradise*
--
the geeks shall inherit the earth
Previous Page12Next Page