themasterofalchemy

[themasterofalchemy]

So why does Death even paint them?

The painting will never have a frame The artist knows as they lay each brush stroke Though it will be given a name; That of the muse stage front who will never again see home

The masterful artisan is Death The being who see's the beauty in every life at every step Watching always, in the shadows, at every breath A love like a father's, attentive and present

Rest assured, every soul has a lovely portrait That does or will reside in death's ever growing closet Why Death paints? I don't know in the slightest And you'd think that is something you'd tell your apprentice

These frameless portraits never speak as I clean That's right, I have to dust your ghost bunnies I'm not looking for any thanks or apologies I only do it 'cause my master does not give into pleads

There are moments in time I wish you could speak That you would come through the canvas and tell your story Gods, it would make this job a whole lot less boring But you just stare forward, not able to even blink

These paintings never even get a frame! I'm at the point of exasperation At a certain point, they all look the same! I don't understand master's fixation

The artisan says I am young and know not of details I say death has the bigger picture wrong and a heart of nails A millennia of faces that not one prevailed Souls left to rest in a closet not able to tell their tales

[themasterofalchemy]

Disgusted at my own creation

Your portrait hangs in the museum of my worst regret, Tucked in the corner next to the mosaic of a shattered tea set

A loss of innocence, Hopes shattered like porcelain,

A god hating its creation’s existence

I painted the expression of pure love and admiration, and claimed it wasn’t so To capture a perfect moment before the world imploded, and when it did, I was already down the road

This mausoleum shows these many losses An alter of shame and shrine of purposelessness

Tossing rice at the decrepit monuments

In the underpainting, the word guilt rests in the middle of your chest Yet it screams that I am grotesque and filled with cowardice

I consider this piece to be the worst I have done I am now afraid of what my hands can do I hold no love for the muse I now shun As if my heart was a canvas stripped new

Your portrait is an unsightly caricature of a man devoted A sight I cannot stand or ever even wanted So here I will sit disgusted Flinching at the sight of my own creation

[themasterofalchemy]

A local describing the cryptid that lives in the woods

She's like...

A well that you have to pour water into A mirror shattered and missing a few

A songbird that loves to smoke A snake waiting for a boots choke

I've seen her curse bystanders for simply being in her presence She is clumsy in both her changing rationale and physical stance If you ask me, she lives to drown out her thoughts at the falls by the lake Rapid and rabid, hexing others for her mistakes

She's like...

Sand whipped into an unrelenting fury A whisper in the wind pleading cure me

A flower that faces the grey clouds A duck in water afraid to drown

I've seen her scream at stars and would be onlookers A shrill and bitter cry with no compassion to the ears of others If you ask me, she lives to drown out her voice at the falls by the lake Crazed and depraved, cursing others for her mistakes

To call her a witch would be putting it kindly

Better to just avoid in totality, As it's not much of a sight And there's a much better beasty In the woods on the right

[themasterofalchemy]

To no one's surprise, yes, the answer is blowing in the wind

How many times must a women walk down the road that leads to nowhere? Is there an exit sign or perhaps a detour jotted down? I'd take any signs that show I'm getting somewhere

I'm asking the trees if from way up high they can see, A way to get to where I'm going

They whisper back to stay still, that what happens will That I am an ant out searching

So now I've tried everything So what the hell, I'll listen to a tree And here I have sat wholly still Learning that to walk towards nowhere is a path to lunacy

[themasterofalchemy]

This was a painting before I could put it into words

There's a star in the sky that wears a jester's hat. In one blinding hand holds a bloomed flower, In the other - A trident that the star hides behind its back

The flower is extended to a young lady perched on a cloud Beneath the pearl she sits upon is a wild tornado that ne'er makes a sound

The young lady sees a friendly star and pretty flower and feels not of the rumble of earth beneath her Or the chain on her ankle growing ever tighter Least of all does she know, the chain she doesn't feel, Is attached to anchor That is seeking hells deeper No, She is too distracted by a jester and a flower

Oh, life is a funny thing Where even the most north star can steer ya wrong A very funny thing When celestial bodies can't tell ya where ya went wrong

Thinking like, how'd I get in this cloud? Do I speak the language of the stars or does this fellow speak mine? Did I smile when I should have frowned? Is everything a game, and it's all just a matter of time?

So now in the bottom right below the trickster A dim star in a broken home adorns a crown Joined by three candles in windows barely holding together A sad display of guidance and light ne'er found

A green butterfly in the air hangs a vine of thorns The softest wings followed by attacks all over the body To remind one that even the most gentle can burn, Then flee quickly into the night whispering I hope no one saw me

Oh, life is a funny thing When the star needed is hidden from you A very funny thing Stashed in a broken home like the one that raised you

Thinking like, I wonder who placed those thorns on that creature I'm sure the weight of the vine she carries is heavy She can't mean to hurt the people around her Regardless, there's blood on her thorns the same

So I think the shadow in this painting knows how she became to be on that cloud To herself she thinks, I could think of such sorrow but why dread how much its going to hurt coming down

In my next painting it will show a young lady taking the trident To which she uses to break off the chains that should've ne'er been

To sum up what I am saying This little diddy was first a painting Childish and stupid looking However, I say as the creator, It has a lot of meaning

[themasterofalchemy]

he’s perfect

[themasterofalchemy]

a story told in three parts

[themasterofalchemy]

i’ve been kidnapped by fairies, hope all is well

[themasterofalchemy]

An anonymous poet in The Liberator:

How wear your finery, and ne’er think

Of those poor souls in bondage held,

Who’s painful labor is compelled?

[themasterofalchemy]

Soothing A Fretful Mare

Oh

The heart is beating rather fast

Wooaaaahh easy girl What's got you so startled?

Are you in the present or past?

Was it a snake in the bushes? A ghost haunting the air? Between gentle shushes Holdin' tight to a scared deaf mare

Easy girl... thatta girl

Mocked and whipped for her nervous demeanor To this love, I will never lay a heavy finger So while I cannot control the serpents or grim shadows She will only feel only warm hands without lassos

No matter how long it takes to reach this destination I think not of the time, we move slow or fast She'll be met with grace, understanding and patience I'll honor her fears in this present or days past

Easy girl... thatta girl

One foot after the other in this open world

[themasterofalchemy]

Manically Grim

I saw the grim reaper- Though he wasn’t holding a scythe He was open handed, waving wildly towards me

A frightening creature- Waiting for an unknown tithe I felt I was branded, that death was warmly welcoming

Rain poured down as lighting crashed Blood turned cold as the coffin laughed

Curiouser and curiouser This blade less grinning reaper Seemed joyful fellow under his mask

Death danced in my face Death chuckled his sorrows away Yet I could only stand afraid A case of the fright of center stage

I had prepared no comedic act or eulogy

[themasterofalchemy]

you can beat the heat… if you beat the charges too

[themasterofalchemy]

“I’d like to memorize you, cover to cover”

He’s an American classic you want to devour in one sitting

A mint condition copy - pristine and sturdy

The cover having hazel eyes that read between your lines

A sure and adoring gaze that sends shivers down your spine

And I, the curious reader who has always struggled with themes of freedom and identity

Feel no fear when his fingers comb through me

Like an open book laid flat on the desk begging to be annotated

There is no language, no poem, nothing left to be translated

While so many have tried to put to words the feelings that jump from a page

This American classic reads as though it was written for the grandest of stage

[themasterofalchemy]

The haunting of Inverness

Dancing in the dark to a tune that’s off key Sure it is strange, But it’s nothing the old gods haven’t seen

Ghosts and empty talk waltz to a begotten melody And isn’t it magnificent Perfectly in sync yet the ugliest sight you’ve ever seen

In this grand hall adorned with diamonds It sparkles so - with just the dimmest candlelight A hollow affair where the guests dine on endless night The endless promenade, sickeningly enchanted by a song created once upon a dream

[themasterofalchemy]

I can’t think of it

I can’t write of it

If I don’t think

If i don’t write

Does “it” exist at all

[themasterofalchemy]

Rabbit Holes and Cosmic Tea Parties

When I was done dying my heart pulsed again And the white rabbits all ran out of my head

To the meadow they knew but foreign to me I tried to fit in but felt I was hunting

Confusing me so, I had no weapon in hand I cried for a time, loathing the curse of man

Those tears formed a river that carried me down Away from the meadow I knew nothing about

And like that I was tossed into a sea so wide Head barely above water choking out why

The heavens replied with more rain in turn This seems to be the only way you learn

Titling my head back, dreaming of salvation Then Jupiter themself gave me an invitation

Where I sat at the head of a table soaking wet And the planets and stars told me not to fret

Such worry for a hare with a pocket watch Time is elastic, have some tea and lighten up

Hysteria brewed and struck like a snake Launching my goblet of honey wine away

I cried for a time, loathing the curse of man A sorrow the celestial voyeurs could not understand

My tears formed a river that carried me down Away from the table I knew nothing about

And like that I plummeted to a ground unforgiving The cracking of bones, a pain I'd been missing

I thought of the meadow and the heavens Of all these beautiful scenes I had never fit in

Alive and born again - broken, scared and bloody I have no time to say hello, ah! goodbye to ye!

The stream that trickled beside me whispered ever sweetly, You my dear have given me so much life from your suffering

Crawl to me and those wounds will heal in moments And I'll be damned but I found actual peace in that tiny current

So a maniacal laugh escaped from somewhere deep down Cause the joke - I finally understood, but still knew nothing about

(Something about how rabbits like me always feel like they are late for an event that has not even been scheduled yet) (Something about how grief and peace are so intertwined like fate itself cannot decide what it intends)

[themasterofalchemy]

Hecate's Garden

She reveled in the fact she died before her time The flower that could not find the sunshine

By petal and thorn she wilted to nothing Yet the roots in her grew so deep into the world and bursted out to the galaxy

A single delicate rose who had never felt kissed by Apollo's grace Born again as a garden that paints color across the void of space