Fools & Kings

August 19, 2013

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By: Magnolia

Their love was the cause of levitation and crying leaves.

Upon first sight, he beheld blue dust; speckled inside the iris of her reflective mirror,

They lingered, spellbound & bogart.

While gold and pink light, soft and incandescent, spied between the fissures of his fluttered heart.

Their interlocking dewy eyes, congealed in-time.

The musings of tomorrow and yesterday, evaporated outside the bloom of detangled vines.

And with the zest of a king and the heart of a fool;

Mouths unraveled so rapturously, that as they stood,

From form to dust and water to a paphian musk,

They became every form of life, rising and sinking, from dawn to dusk.

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They lingered, spellbound & bogart.

Their love was the cause of levitation and crying leaves

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c1d19 Brilliant Levitation Photography

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The musings of tomorrow and yesterday, evaporated outside the bloom of detangled vines.

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Upon first sight, he beheld blue dust; speckled inside the iris of her reflective mirror

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Their interlocking eyes, congealed in-time

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c1b17 Brilliant Levitation Photography

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From form to dust and water to a paphian musk

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And with the zest of a king and the heart of a fool

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While gold and pink light, soft and incandescent, spied between the fissures of his fluttered heart

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Mouths unraveled so rapturously, that as they stood

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They became every form of life, rising and sinking, from dawn to dusk.

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Gin Soaked Visions

March 23, 2013

By: Magnolia

He dreamt of her standing there,

dead center in the midnight of Time Square.

He snuggled against the light post,

Beard choking neck and gin washing teeth.

Wishing he was drunk off her skin and being wrapped in her sheets.

And as he sat in the cold, damp rain, and tapped his toe to the rhythm of his pain

He held his glass up to the light and thought with some doubt & fright,

  “If I stare through this long enough, will I be free from all this stuff.”

Soaked hair and bottle to chest, he closed his eyes and imagine her, in a dark, snug black dress.

And a smile couldn’t help but brush upon his lips as he dreamt of this woman’s undying kiss.

Who was she? This Helen of Troy,

a woman who turned the men into gaga eyed boys.

She was the boom, bass,

the last and sweetest drop out of a borosilicate wineglass.

She was worth leaving it all behind,

Rumpus days of playing the field

 and all his fake egotistical shields.

She was all the S’ssss that slide and slip off the sides of your tongue,

Sleek, silly, sophisticated, selfless and selectively sensuous.

And when she walked, trees that even the wind couldn’t bend

Would recline against the breath of men just to see her walk back and forth

again

and again.

Even reality readjusted it’s disposition for her.

As she didn’t live by the rules, she bent them & made um’ blur.

Shaking his head, he reminisced about the good old days

When riding the bus as a little guy,

he’d get excited by just a whiff of perfume as one of um’ walked by.

Or throwing stones

making wishes for a woman that unhinged jawbones.

And now, the only way he can find an Athena, Aphrodite or a Nyx is by

staring at the bottom of his glass or by reading Jane Austen classics.

But never mind all that,

’cause he ain’t budging for no woman unless she’s worth the combat.

He wants to be apart of a new revolution,

constructed with transparency and framed with the buoyancy of clouds in union.

He wants to be unraveled and shape shifted.

Oxygen revived and see something worth lifting the lid of his eye.

And until that day, arrives

he’ll hold his gin up to the lights;

waiting for that one

whose heart is worth it’s wait in gold, who makes a revelry out of growing old.

___________________________

GIN SOAKED VISIONS

He dreamt of her standing there,

dead center in the midnight of Time Square.

He snuggled against the light post,

 

Beard choking neck and gin washing teeth

Wishing he was drunk off her skin and being wrapped in her sheets.

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And as he stood in the cold, damp rain, and tapped his toe to the rhythm of his pain

He held his glass up to the light and thought with some doubt & fright,

  “If I stare through this long enough, will I be free from all this stuff.”

 

Soaked hair and bottle to chest, he closed his eyes and imagine her, in a dark, snug black dress.

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And a smile couldn’t help but brush upon his lips as he dreamt of this woman’s undying kiss.

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Who was she?

(images: Sergio Albiac)

This Helen of Troy,

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a woman who turned the men into gaga eyed boys.

She was the boom, bass

the last and sweetest drop out of a borosilicate wineglass.

She was worth leaving it all behind,

Rumpus days of playing the field

 and all his fake egotistical shields.

 

She was all the S’ssss that slide and slip off the sides of your tongue,

Sleek, silly, sophisticated, selfless and selectively sensuous.

And when she walked, trees that even the wind couldn’t bend

Would recline against the breath of men just to see her walk back and forth

again

and again.

Even reality readjusted it’s disposition for her.

As she didn’t live by the rules, she bent them & made um’ blur.

Shaking his head, he reminisced about the good old days

When riding the bus as a little guy,

he’d get excited by just a whiff of perfume as one of um’ walked by.

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Or throwing stones

making wishes for a woman that unhinged jawbones.

 

And now, the only way he can find an Athena, Aphrodite or a Nyx

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 is by staring at the bottom of his glass or by reading Jane Austen classics.

 

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But never mind all that,

’cause he ain’t budging for no woman unless she’s worth the combat.

He wants to be apart of a new revolution,

constructed with transparency and framed with the buoyancy of clouds in union.

He wants to be unraveled and shape shifted.

Oxygen revived and see something worth lifting the lid of his eye.

 

And until that day, arrives

he’ll hold his gin up to the lights;

waiting for that one

whose heart is worth it’s wait in gold, who makes a revelry out of growing old.

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La Luna

March 22, 2013

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Once upon a moonlit tale, born inside a planted jar,

is where he fell in love with a delicate evening glowing star.

While trapped inside this heavy mass,

he reached his rays beyond the glass.

Though stuck and filled with fright, he knew one thing,

He’d do anything to have her see his light.

So pointed at the night one day,

he poured himself upon the fractured driveway.

Swimming in-between its cracks,

he found his way upon the oceans back.

And while challenged betwixt the midnight waves,

He held on to the glimmer of light inside of her beating gaze.

And when reaching became tiresome and the wind a heavy burden

He reached upon the feathers of a willing black raven.

Into the sky this light was carried,

while pulsating he hid his eyes beneath ruffled feathers, hopeful & teary

From beneath the oceans belly to sleeping above a bed of cotton

His dreams became more puissant, as he neared the place once forgotten.

And as he reached the sky, he let out a big breath and died.

With abrupt euphoria his rays danced inside the darkness

And his message thundered into the void where her heart was.

“Can’t you see my love,

the world is so small and we big in it.

I just needed to think that beings like you exist.

I hope its okay for me to confess all of this.”

And before his final word was etched,

she reached her arms to him outstretched.

Pressed against the midnight sky, her lips upon his cheek she kissed

And revealed they collided, taking pleasure in each-others eternal bliss.

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Begin Again

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To the Be of Things

March 20, 2013

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You didn’t.

I did.

We aren’t.

*

So now sway and tilt and droop,

I will not.

*

No more,

Lull, mum, quiet,

Little

sounds.

*

I’m going,

to the Be of things.

*

Big,

brazen,

beautifully bazaar.

*

No more

Twinkled eyes, prancing pain and panicked,  pleasing.

But barefoot and bold,

boomingly, blissful

un-bashful- beats!

*

Rhythms made foreign to an over-bending back.

Bent on pleasing,

Bent on appeasing.

Coddling?  I must be stronger

Truant? Any? no longer.

*

I’m going

beyond busted glass with bodaciously blue lips

Blemished with brawn as a  bombshell buxom

*

Comatose till shock did I part

What was once dull is now silver

and stingingly,

 sharp.

*

 And decidedly so,

as a Be,

is so much bigger,

than a frowning spine and passive tongue;

Traced,

by behemoth pain.

Released through hot and sweaty

legs and neck and fingers and veins.

All,

tied,

to the key of believing past a running brain and scattered eyes.

So then I must.

I’m moving,

To the Be of things.

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The actual photo failed, so I give you:<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
The inverted inside of a polaroid

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The Waltz

January 23, 2013

 

By:  Magnolia

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 I am the soil        And I the tree

 Together embraced, closely.

I am the wind      And I the leaves

Together we float careless and free.

I am the heart     And I the beat

Together we move quiet and discreet.

I am the pencil      And I the paper

Together we scribble the answer.

I am the bones     And I the skin

Together we build cover, beginning to end.

I am the door      And I  the knob

Together we absorb every throb.

I am the path     And I the water

Together we travel, paving next chapters

I’m the composer   And I the composition

Together creating melodies that grow and glisten.

I am the paint          And I your canvas

Together splashed and blended into the infinite planned for us.

I am the body    And I your bends

Together till the very end.

So when your color fades

and lines surround your eyes,

My lips will seal your heart with first loves reprise.

And when you are tiered,

I will be your awake

Forever in a waltz through love and heartache.

The breath to your lips, the sound to your silence,

The view to your window and the X to your spot;

We are but four eyes and one vision,

Percolated poetry, bound for eternity.

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Lovers under African Sky

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Bonjour world!

August 13, 2009

 

Name: Magnolia Lafleur

I decided to write a blog about love, art, and the human condition. The good, the bad and all that is in-between.   I will go through the looking glass and back examining all that is love the roots and stems of love. We see evidence every second of every day of the existence of true love. It takes the form of art, freedom, beauty, callings fulfilled, nature, music, healthy relationships, etc.  Through the transmission of real love we find some of the world’s most awe inspiring people, acts, and inventions, creative and otherwise.

In the old day all people had was their word, there was a level of sophistication, loyalty, innocence and corniness that was not only acceptable but revered as brave, beautiful and honest. It’s not that it does not exist anymore; it’s just not as popular as it deserves to be.

So, ready or not, here I go through the Rabbit Hole searching, dissecting, discovering and restoring True Love.  My hope… to pump the sigh, swoon and lift of the heel back into love.

 Oh! and where theres LOVE you know they’ll be a little POETRRYY Readdingg!

Fav.Quote:

“Knowledge is the best eraser in the world for disharmony, distrust, despair, and the endless physical deficiencies of man.” -Battista, Orlando A.

Interest:
Film, Screenwriting, writing Running,Dance, Reading, Drawing & Painting, Film Studies, Film Scores, Music, Art, Traveling, Discovering, History, Philosophy, Anthropology, Psychology, Astronomy, Mythology Studies, blaha blaha blaha….more later.

I ….
*Graduated from University with a B.A in Journalism

*Spent a year in London completing an International Business Certificate

*Sublime Magazine Editor

*Professional Track athlete – Trinidad National Team

* Indie-Script in pre-production stages

*Like the smell of wet pavement and have a semi-obsession w/ crunching leaves and hot chocolate.

Please feel free to leave comments and/or email me with questions, ideas,  perspectives, etc. : lovsnmua@gmail.com

Follow me on Twitter:http://twitter.com/Lovsnmua

 “Love is passion, someone you can’t live without. If you don’t start with that, what are you going to end up with? Fall head over heels. I say find someone you can love like crazy and who’ll love you the same way back. And how do you find him? Forget your head and listen to your heart. I’m not hearing any heart. Run the risk, if you get hurt, you’ll come back. Because, the truth is there is no sense living your life without this. To make the journey and not fall deeply in love – well, you haven’t lived a life at all. You have to try. Because if you haven’t tried, you haven’t lived. ” -Meet Joe Black-