Tale Weaver 28: art & artist and Wordle #124

124

My well-oiled feathers weep

With sparks of treason

And doubts enough

To cripple the world.

My inky tongue shoots

A filigree of stars

Into scarlet mouth holes

And eyes so wide

They split the seams.

*

The trees sway,

Full moon coarse

As a whetstone.

A vulture stirs

Wet bones closed

Within a sacrilegious beak.

Crunch Crunch

All is lost.

Crunch Crunch

The unlivable death

Begins and ends

With a collusion of flesh

And pockets wrung

Of meager content.

*

I envisioned this more as being consumed by the painting. I went with a very surreal approach as some paintings have very bizarre and multi-layered metaphorical imagery. I approached this like a dream where everything seen is a manifestation of some aspect of your psyche.

For

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/08/27/tale-weaver-28-art-artist/