The Poet Michelangelo

There are no particular speeches in a paintbrush

Such artistry contempts my mind

The fairest heart

Is the fairest heart of dreams,

I rise to the occasion in the fairest skies

For the fairest skies of love bring me to you,

Michelangelo;

Oh so true is the idiot that reads

For reading leads many astray,

For it is the sculpture of a painting

That hangs in the balance

True love is a form of art, and so on

Oh what dearest dreams

You hang in a painting?

So ravenous are your scars

For you see a vision I can feel

I admire you for your damseling in distress

For such colors reach like piles on end

The Eiffel Tower cannot compare to your love

And you are a painting of many cities uncontrived

The experience is special

Especially in your eyes

And the poetry restores a brand-new feeling,

A brand-new feeling in me

For I am the vision, and you are the creator

The creator of a masterpiece

Oh dear Michelangelo

Tell me your dirty little secret

And so much more;

Do you hang by the fire that is romance?

Do you sculpt the naked body just to sigh?

And all of my crying riddles rely on you

From Barbados to the moon

And truly I am in awe of you

Your deepest mournings have an effect

On the pruning heart that shears the loss

For I have lost my loves on the spare

And I have spared you for quite some time

Is it the vision that pursues me?

Such a renaissance man you are,

Such a sophisticated man to the world

Your poetry lingers like soft ice cream

Tainted with a foolery that is brilliance--

Oh don't touch the screen

You'll get paint all over it,

For your love is a silent movie

Sculpted in the eyes of a teenage girl

In a grown woman's heart;

Oh negligence is no silent partner of mine

My mind is blown by the wayside

And trappery is the loveliest trap

Sing to me while you hold me captive

Flatter me in your suspense

Oh paint me; paint me naked in the wind

With a glorious flower in my hair--

Make me look like the woman in your dreams

With soft lips and gentle breasts,

Your gentle hands may touch me

And all the while

I see the difference,

I get excited when you make love to me through art

And your kisses are rare

Like an unhinged cat

And your touch is like butter

On soft bread...

Oh kiss me in the night, you fool

For you are so brilliant

You hypnotize the moon,

For the moon sees your reverence in retrospect

And undying hands touch the gold--

Oh the boldness of your foolery remains

For every artist is a fool

Wrapped in gold revelries

And human stars.