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A world without repulse

fetch a design, a floral pattern
to quench the thirst these dry eyes seek
stroke my face with knowledge of beauty and what is beautiful
you care, you caress, so considerately
I feel comfort from my chair, my height
I’ll call on you to bring me beauty
the boy turned and stared, his eyes undeniably ignoring my riches
a fear imprinted on him – it disgusts – I flicker with rage
the maid is in her place, the walls, the chairs, the table, they agree
the window gives way to tamed gardens, fields and valleys
a kingdom conquered, a kingdom pronounced
derelict homes and families a necessary obstacle;
to keep the lands picturesque in nature
the beauty rare, divine and to be admired
an archaic and articulated Arcadia
gives rise to time, to song, to history to sing its praise
to give a polite word to one who passes by
a faux pas – trivial – but to acknowledge and address existence
and what a fine art it has become
I stand dispassionately – in thought and embedded concentration – drinking in the sights
Homer watches from afar, perhaps only I can see – or sense – him
drawing back from the image in front of me;
a painting, a picture, a landscape, a woman
vulnerable to my strength, my polite objectivity
I may trace my fingers across such a surface, heightening the pleasure
and the boy stares, lingers on what must be a tableau of beauty
delicate, the picture, the imagery encompassed in satisfaction
the only denial, a power only Faust could imagine
breaking images in my wake - the boy lingers - when everything is in its place

Oh, great delight to see a beauty here

04-14-2005, 02:48 AM	#2
neo_taboolie Level 9 - Obstreperous Join Date: Dec 2002 Location: the house with the red door... now red was your colour Posts: 1,929 Bincount™: 2324	... A world without repulse fetch a design, a floral pattern to quench the thirst these dry eyes seek stroke my face with knowledge of beauty and what is beautiful you care, you caress, so considerately I feel comfort from my chair, my height I’ll call on you to bring me beauty the boy turned and stared, his eyes undeniably ignoring my riches a fear imprinted on him – it disgusts – I flicker with rage the maid is in her place, the walls, the chairs, the table, they agree the window gives way to tamed gardens, fields and valleys a kingdom conquered, a kingdom pronounced derelict homes and families a necessary obstacle; to keep the lands picturesque in nature the beauty rare, divine and to be admired an archaic and articulated Arcadia gives rise to time, to song, to history to sing its praise to give a polite word to one who passes by a faux pas – trivial – but to acknowledge and address existence and what a fine art it has become I stand dispassionately – in thought and embedded concentration – drinking in the sights Homer watches from afar, perhaps only I can see – or sense – him drawing back from the image in front of me; a painting, a picture, a landscape, a woman vulnerable to my strength, my polite objectivity I may trace my fingers across such a surface, heightening the pleasure and the boy stares, lingers on what must be a tableau of beauty delicate, the picture, the imagery encompassed in satisfaction the only denial, a power only Faust could imagine breaking images in my wake - the boy lingers - when everything is in its place Oh, great delight to see a beauty here __________________ When the movie is over... ... and the movie goers have left en masse, the only sound you hear is the bang of chairs returning to their upright position . Last edited by MrMcPheezy; 04-27-2005 at 07:48 PM..
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