Moonlight Literature

All things literature, from poetry to novels. You may support my work on Patreon at  https://www.patreon.com/JoClassical

[joclassical]

I could never stand to watch another minute of these vloggers . They fumble and spit their words of the intrinsic nature of universal human culture (in reality their own, I might add), and critique without merit the harmless deviations from traditional culture.   For example, I've heard one attack the introduction of new gender identities in the English language on the basis of negating the natural ways of language. Now, if you ask me, the best manner to have phrased such a premise would have been to argue the negation of two pairs of chromosomes, hardly relevant to language. Even if that ubiquitous point was argued, when would one have ever known that our very writing developed out of nothing but our ancestor's needs to abstractly record their agricultural lives? Never, for I've not heard of one delve into those topics.  Language is hardly natural. Always changing. Our abstract tenancies  to symbolize almost everything is much more common than you think.

A letter the loved one

[joclassical]

[joclassical]

“These boys and girls of the day are fools! Pampered by the very comfort of society of which they mock, bash, and wine about. This here, the leftist media craze which has tossed them into needless paranoia... expose them! ...That fellow on the TV, Jim Lewinsky. He comes on at 10, you know. And he’s performed the best monologue breaking apart the leftist narrative with the hypocrisy of Hollywood nobodies. Now that man is a genius!”  

-The Fool. Character by Jo. 

[joclassical]

They tread upon the moist dirt, these honest people hauling futures like any other. And while they keep their heads up in hope, bandaged as brutes by their fellow people, they lost sight they were human too. 

-Jo

[joclassical]

[joclassical]

The sun burned an incessant weight of guilt upon my forehead that summer day... In all my years at Bartleby Academy, none of my audacious quotes written in the school newspaper spurred any contempt from my estranged peers... those words fell upon pages no one cared to read, nor dared to use to make the lining of their own birdcage...  But his own case was a different matter. Popularity and high profile threw him upon the stage of unjust scrutiny where his own audacious performance of critique costed him his very academic career... I would no longer see him in the fall term...

Jo, excerpt from original short story based on the principles of Kathy Griffin’s case. 

[joclassical]

In the days following her suicide, life among the halls held a piercing reminder that laid beneath a dialogue of everyday talk... And yet that toxic gale still blew through the leaves of campus trees, the kind which always fed our selfish ambitions between each other's benefit. She remained a whore by the very conventions that strangled her to her demise. But to me, she was nothing but another person who had the very misfortune of surrendering herself for acceptance, performing one mistake that cost us her life and our innocence. But the latter, no one ever knew happened...

Jo, excerpt from original short story

[joclassical]

A bouquet to revere

Of roses which fade to the pink

Of toes at the ends of velvety petals,

Flushed bright and gorgeous

Over the rosy blends of your

Eternal sole.

A bouquet to revere,

Of roses which bloom in and out

In shades of pink and white

Upon the beds of your fair face

In seasonal breath and amour,

Watered by the brush and kiss

Between the beings of our

Earthly figures.

A bouquet to revere

Of roses which blossom

In the summer air of endearing love ,

Where roses flutter in flustering flames

And press together in a warm embrace,

That is a rose which favors your face.

How I miss you, sweet rose…

-Jo

[joclassical]

We were only kids... people lost in our own apathy or self-righteousness, believing our intuition and thought process to yield absolute truth... It was the very irritating veil that blinded us from the faulty foundations of our rhetoric, throwing around derogatory slang and expletives without a single thought as if they were nothing but hollow symbols that meant nothing, came from nothing, and where there for nothing more than our amusement.

Jo, excerpt of original short story. 

[luggelerunning]

the best of nature photo

[joclassical]

The frothy tips of the tides caressed the rocky shores of an afternoon glow. A blue-green stretch of waves dissolving into a plane of glass over the horizon, by which orange clouds sat upon. And the sun fell with grace, gently scratching the cliff sides in a descending orange light, leaving behind a crisp salty sea breeze...

-Jo

[joclassical]

I wondered about the very nature of our mundane lives in the way we’ve made it, enveloped in our own routines of an endless cycle forward into uncertainty... this very bureaucratic way of life seems to blind us from these present treasures within our grasp that we choose to neglect them. For there is one certainty in our lives I know of... is death.

-Jo

[joclassical]

[dailyinspirationquotes]

follow for daily quotes

[joclassical]

Their love was bound to secrecy... felt within intense silence, seen without eyes. Never to be expressed in any explicit way. For Helios was of her kin, and Selene of his. And yet this tension was not resistant of Eros’ compelling aurora of love and lust. As Helios stood above the firmament of day, Selene was cast away in time and space, never to feel the touch of each other’s passion. The only embodiment of love lied within his will to fall beyond the horizon, to let his love observe the world he so had warmed. To let her intake the gales of love and care he left behind. It kept her alive...

Jo

[joclassical]

[buttonpoetry]

I am still afraid that in front of my family, my shivering tongue will shake to a western rhythm.

Ariana Brown - “Volver, Volver” (via buttonpoetry)

[joclassical]

[joclassical]

Embodiment of dulcet amour, Singing solo upon the timbre Of cherubs’ homogeneous chorale, Compose me a figure Whom goes without fatigue And embraces compassion. Venus... Bring her by exceptional craft, An artistry in skill without flaw, A passage of words without words, Of you in form without you, In contours of a goddess like you. Let her descend to earth By your most esteemed grace, As my brass heart beats in dissonance Of the euphonious clamor By a lonesome string, Let her lie upon my hands. Her craft, of divine proportions, Her flesh, a texture of harmonious Song and dance that performs In the sounds of smooth tones That caress me in every way. From the waves of her hair, To the gentle touch by her tips, Breasts crafted, supple raspberries Sweet to the taste and touch, Her soul delightful, beautiful... She’s perfect... She’s perfect... She ascends me here To where my flame burns Into a distant chime of twinkling light And burns away into caramel soft, A passionate silence....

-Jo