Déraisonneur

merely a gifted eccentric

[deraisonneur]

Pencilled maps of how to come out of this alive, temporary names given to depths unknown.

The blank slate of eternity and us, knowing not what to do with it, fractured it and called it time.

The vault of the heavens built for us to shout at it and learn how to listen as it echoes back.

— Genesis (2020) 🖼️ And she had a heart! (Simonet, 1890)

[deraisonneur]

The winds in our heads our braids, unbecoming turn back to a primitive state of separateness.

To be always alert sleep becomes light, dark the percurrence with eyes wide open.

Our poor hearts still waste time waiting for the grass to be greener on this side of the fence.

— Holocaust (2020) 🖼️ The shepherdess (Munier, 1888)

[deraisonneur]

The line of the horizon empty, that of the loom resembling a guillotine for her to sharpen daily in wait of sweet release.

She herself comes undone around the edges, faded her geometries, unfolding her fingers, discoloured in a sea of tears.

— Noctidiurnal (2020) 🖼️ Portrait of a woman (Hudson, 1749)

[deraisonneur]

A thousand and one lives pretending not to be the king, nor the thief, but Scheherazade.

A thousand and one lives to teach paper how to sing the love language of ink; not the crown, nor the sword, but the lightness of the pen and the simplicity of breath.

— Demiurge (2020) 🖼️ The sorceress (Merle, 1883)

[deraisonneur]

Grains of sand, pink-gold, the castles fallen at night, the stark clean of daylight, dreamy sirens waking slow.

The breezes sweeping salt off the stone hot carpets of those nomadic bazaars selling Eastern treasures.

And adventurers like me, answering with all their heart when the sea calls their name.

— Itinerarian (2020) 🖼️ In the presence of the lord (Masriera, 1891)

[deraisonneur]

The queen on the inside, fierce dormant briar rose awaiting spring to bloom patiently.

The knight on the outside, wearing armours too heavy to raise up to the world defiantly.

Blessed the day they met, amidst the hall of mirrors their images overlapping perfectly.

— Transition (2020) 🖼️ Judith beheading Holofernes (Caravaggio, 1598)

[deraisonneur]

It pertains to modulation and rehearsing of whistles on wavelengths inaudible to anyone else but us.

It pertains to surprise and the sense of a whole when our fingers interlock across a table at lunch.

It pertains to departure and certainty of always being lost then found one lifetime at a time.

— Soulmates (2020) 🖼️ Farewell (Hacker, 1900)

[deraisonneur]

Most beautiful of them all, the apple of his mighty eye before apples became known as the fruits of the liars.

And into a liar he was made, master of the art of wanting, God carved him a lovely pit, master of the art of giving.

"May the earth be light to you" wept the angels from up above, he raised his head and sneered "May my step carve it deeper."

— Terrestrial (2020) 🖼️ Agape and Eros (Baglione, 1602)

[deraisonneur]

From the palace walls hang incohesive portraits of me, impressive and impressionist and they are all unfinished.

The gallery of possibility, a miriad deflowered canvases shelved carefully, pristine scientific order, in latin.

But future held a palette full of deep golds, shades of every grey ever invented and a few screeching reds.

— Linnaean (2020) 🖼️ Still life (Robie, 1850)

[deraisonneur]

Rosey caress light and warm, the comfort of seven o' clock thinning the curtains, dawn timid and quiet, motherly.

That fateful frightful night holding my breath tight and my hopes tighter, escaping certainty of death, barely.

Between that night and today this catapult built by no other than me, arsonist at witching, by the morning, incendiary.

— Scarifier (2020) 🖼️ Achilles (Ferri, 2017)

[deraisonneur]

Across the infinite blue folding, unfolding vapour, white and transparent air made into lonely giants.

Do clouds feel misunderstood when we point fingers unable to capture their essence and call them a vessel or dragon?

Lovely giants to gaze upon, parallel universe up above far and alien enough to not be touched by their sorrow.

— Idealise (2020) 🖼️ Helios as personification of midday (Mengs, 1765)

[deraisonneur]

It occurs to the flower that summer will teach it the sweet acquired taste of golden rosy peaches, that underground dark was youth in December.

It will occur to me that gravity's purpose from wellspring to mouth is to show me how to fall, that I wasn't born a river but deep, deep sea.

— Mutative (2020) 🖼️ Anne of Austria (Rubens, 1601)

[deraisonneur]

Every corner a secret, a workshop of wonders and hands making love to the gifts of the earth, their sides modelled to be held up to the lips of strangers enamoured with the nectar within. Home to humanity and sun, to seasides and volcanoes, and all the things worthy of seeing once and dying for. — Mother (2020) 🖼️ 24 August A.D. 79 (Valenciennes, 1819)

[deraisonneur]

The claw hooks his heart right in the dead of night, the harpoon sticking out submarine St. Sebastian. A lifetime of thick clouds diluting water depths red, flanking the sailing coffin flying-fish funeral parade. The old man mourning the end of his enemy, vestigial vessel treasure loot for a sea of thieves. — Duomachy (2020) 🖼️ Waves (Aivazovsky, 1849)

[deraisonneur]

Clothes as white as flags hanging from tree to tree in the garden of Eden.

Fingers locked in sweat - or rather, in spite of it - our testament of courage in the face of certainty of dawn breaking.

Godless serpents, apple taste of resistance lingering on our tongues. — Appetency (2020) 🖼️ Adam and Eve (Dürer, 1507)

[deraisonneur]

Before falling in love, we knew nothing of the laws of gravity and the galactic void it takes to stay attached while it all spins at the speed of light; how light itself comes to us elusive and ghostly and often dead, before we even know it all for an excuse to wish for something to call our own.  — Atomism (2020) 🖼️ Allegory of love (Klimt, 1895)

[deraisonneur]

From fairies to godmothers the moment destiny decides playtime is up, here's the blood, here are the knights and their duels and having to be crowned their princess unless it's a witch, which must be burnt so the sisters will be afraid of enchanting mankind with their might, with the smoke of their pyre making clouds in their mind longing to be told they look like dragons and pirate ships more than nymphs to play with. — Rosarium (2020) 🖼️ Medusa (Rubens, 1618)