|With this picture I won the wonderful monthly award given by dear Dragon.|
I'm so happy!
Thank you so much to all who voted for me and to my lovely friend David for all his support!
Silence is a Golden ArtWe face each other, expressionless, wordless,Silence is a Golden Art by Kay-March
turned into something... something
that wasn't here a moment ago
something more... or less
a thing... that was once human
"silence is a golden art acquired only by few"
even thoughts, memories are quiet in this stillness
frozen somewhere inside ourselves, lost
and even every movement seems unreal, floatable
we are carriers of an unbearable lightness
Behind, we leave clothes and skins
with a sudden fearless, awareness
of the creatures we are becoming
shape-shifters, made of scattered weightless tissue
both locked inside the blue room
where stars and voids are born
Forged... light and darkness
ghosts in the corner, angered and amazed
look at us... no they are watching us
they know something we don't... they wait
weaves and wires are broken
slowly, a slice of millions of doors open
We face each other... apart and together
like we were before, always through time
the navigators that we were and are,
FearWill I watch you disappear through the corner of my eyesFear by Kay-March
as ghosts of abandoned houses do,
falling on their own ruins to be forgotten and forever gone?
People ask me what I fear...
For a second I stand still,
immobilized, an alabaster statue, without feel
I have no answers for myself, for them... or I just don't want to tell,
once it's out of my mind and mouth, it's true... and that I can not bear
Then I move,
gracious smile on my face - Nothing! - I say
hiding well, my prove
I sweep my memory, in a desperate search... and yet it fails
a broken vessel without your cloths as sails
Yes... there is something that I fear
soon, even your ghost will disappear
© copyright of KAY MARCH - All Rights Reserved.
|This are very special gifts to me |
There are moments in our life when words are able to express our feelings
Also there are moments, when words can not do this.
In that moments Art speaks for us.
Thank you my dearest Flori for these wonders and
You made me so happy!
Thank you my dear Cher for this special star I'm honoured!
Thank you my dear Nameda for this graceful and meaningful award
I'm happy and very honoured!
Thank you my dear Camelia for this very beautiful gifts and signatures and
You made me a great joy!
Never Lost in Translation
Cifra doiCifra doi
Number TwoFeeling the need of a the single love
Angel's WingsAutumn is here and the leaves have turned brown
The GardenWondrous and always patient
Written words are gold dust of our souls. Thank you!.
the poetthe wind sweeps the streets but I am
The Sense of LoveI'm preparing to meet you
When Your Lover is a MoonI love you, aware of my exile, your exile
FOR CELIAGentle Celia, how comest you here
Song For TodayHollow as a rotted-out walnut shell
PerpetuityThe daughter loved design, moulding hypnotic signatures in wigs,
Twisting time like it was a cow lick.
She cut my hair once.
Yet constantly sickened herself,
Unable to twist hands,
To that car crash where she wished she could feather-cut fate into
She’d have given forever for just one more hour,
Bartered her God damned soul if she felt it worth more.
‘If two things collide at sixty miles an hour,
The impact is a hundred and twenty,’
Said my sensei another day, like he knew
That day the car became a twister of glass and lead
Speed of sound, windscreen, pavement then...
She wondered why her heart still beat
From time to time?
Maybe she'd twisted also,
From all those replays when her mother fell
Kept the daughter adrift like some miracle of hell
The voices in her head became tubes of soap,
Waiting to happen.
As if swabbing the breathing from the pavement
That had consumed her helped.
All I know is I wish I
Pthalos firecrackerWhen I used to think clouds were dense enough to stand on,
I wanted to grow up to know my insides inside out.
I’d stoop by the old mines,
Digging up every scenario about horizons,
Pretending every step was like I’d leapt across one.
When I still held murky diamonds in my skull,
I wanted to be the Great Wall of China,
Building bridges in my confidence,
Melting in some phosphorous
From the spells casted in terracotta horses.
Like children’s eyes, where inside them were Northern Lights
Kissing Halley’s Comet
Despite thinking girls were still alien to me back then.
Those were the days...
Days brimming with Venezuelan storms
Never-ending sources of
Forking across the blue blanket sky.
The way, my God, it enveloped my skin,
Supercharged electricity in everything –
I...I couldn’t understand it,
Knowing I was a maze away from being a space explorer
Until I learnt about the Africa in all of us.
Until I realised that huma
The Past, Present and New BeginningsI wonder if we’re like stars sometimes,
Our Arcturus arms enveloping each other like moonlight does
When that clock strikes midnight
In a bedroom full of photos,
Glitterand in sepia tones
Exhibited all that wonder.
Wonders made of revolution and bulletproof vests
Just more ghosts
A contrast of grey on more grey.
Times have come where we had time-outs,
Upgraded our zealous to the sentimental.
We look at the skies once every firework
And know that much
Enough to see beginnings cascade into possibilities
So that even the rain brings a smile.
Time will go on,
Stretch back and spin,
Whatever it takes to prove
This is a relationship,
Not a state of kin.
One day when we’re nothing but saw dust made of gold
And all that we’ve seen,
People might hopefully feel that countdowns are meant for more than rockets
Despite the quinqagenairans full on spite
Stars in dark skies will mean more than just
Lights lighting up in tan
The Gentlemen's ClubYou flip decks of cards like they're juggling balls
Calling bluffs and raising the stakes
Bar tender ups prices of moonshine,
Your brand of magic is wasted on them.
The cigarette you pirouette by the edge of your fingers
Barely fitting between
Those slits you wish were closed off tonight
Still you sing and spit, the microphone’s your bitch
With crimson hair spilt across your face.
Much too warm bathed under key-lime, citrus tints
Pulling off dignity like clothes and winging it
With ‘I’m going nowhere’ alto harmonies...
And their Hobgoblin – you just want it to boil
The same way those punters make you do, foiling you,
All of us members of a club of glass
Busking for daily does, dosey does, dosages
And you just keep singing...
White WomanShe drifts across moors,
Veils of weeping tissues
Locked around her shoulders.
Her heart is made of pieces,
In sugar-like skin.
Rainfall plays with her hair,
Until her traitor found her,
Far away and right in front of you.
I wouldn’t call her a Goddess.
From a hell on Earth eternity which made her.
You’d see her reflection
Hoping to leave a while
While you walk down the aisle.
Instead she dreams
History won’t repeat.
History won’t repeat.
RearrangeWindows whisper snowy words
Out into black bird dusk
Crossing the road like paper bags
They leave their marks like chalked lines
Of ghosts, H. G. Wells, Victorian Times
And a red arrow
Shaped like a zigzag.
It once belonged in someone’s chest,
The one in a crowd and all the rest.
Grooms and brides, iridescent white
Or just love-making and romantic words
Left all it’s worth on a wall
Where people piss.
It says ‘love is just a word’
Say what you want, that’s fucking absurd
No amount of repetition makes it true.
Your calligraphy is violent
To match the heartbeat you made silent,
We share your pain when they took your noise,
Drowned it out.
We’re all broke like hyphens you drew
Pinball machines, poor man’s stew,
But there’s always change lying in the gutter.
Get yourself home, food in your mouth,
Think about the summer
When you’ll go south,
Meet the soul-mate smiling
They’re from Somerset.
More from this Artist work
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