The air bleed, so do the rains
like some linguist steps
like some linguist steps
paving the way without any
transcription
without a drop of eloquence
as he hangs at the connoisseur’s
building with ample of colours
intersecting at one other’s
breasts.
I am a fouled fella I say
with not a mouthful
of taste, not a heavy meaning
to art. All I fancy is my artful
playing when rains bleed
near stolen gates and across
wired channels, not restrained
but walking
red.
4 comments:
Very ingenious. Like it very much, especially the first stanza. Terrific that!
I know no art, neither am I any connoisseur of it, but rains, they create art, artists or not.
Never does the raining sunshine create such magic :)
Beautiful post!
Cheers,
Blasphemous Aesthete
Bleeding rain is a nice visual with the red umbrella.
Beautiful post indeed.
Anna :o]
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