Geishas InkTo contemplate but not to see
Blind Geisha writes calligraphy
She hears the wind and feel's its touch
Yet never sees the effects of such
Is she really that blind?
Tis only the wind she can't find
Least find in the world, not in the ink
And from the long inked brush doth flow what she think
The lengthy brush makes the slightest move a gale
A single minute lapse and the while work shall fail
And yet she paints flawless from the long-end brush
These visions of her work come out as such
She will turn gale to breeze and calm to storm
This world is controlled by the long-paints form

Mature Content

:thumb147747692: : Geishageisha.
residing in a paint pot
is a cautionary hazard sign
blinking on double-sided tape.
the tar has switched places
and has given me back the
crinkle to my eyes.
now i have the right key
and i know where it goes...
but i realized
the aroma of my key chain.
and now the twinkle i see in the stars.
a phantom imagination protrudes
with antennae sculpted out of picketed
barbed wire fencing.
the asymmetry scares me and
I like to remember the Phantom's
butterfly wings of belly feathers.
I try to slip through any mirror
and run,
run...away and up and away
because all i can see are the flaws.
all i can see is the dark circles
under what holds something
that i can never see.
so i do, i run...
to the lullaby from the trench
while I lay beside it
and ignore it
and let it play like background music
like carnations in dye
that eat into your veins
and crack through your corolla.
on a hammock of lavender.
and i keep close to my heart
that one stick you picked me
in the moonlight of that lonesick.
i :thumb91732027: :thumb45126925: :thumb56080909: :thumb187775764: :thumb190837505: :thumb1699077: :thumb108288787: