Visualpoetry Stories

Welcome to the Nonentity of Epopee, a chaparral of unwieldy euphemism where the manifold cerebral meets the abyss of the mind. Within these 25 hectic runes, an architect of shadows explores the dissonance of being a side character in a world of luminous protagonists. From the orisons of the empyrean to the murky ponds of despondency

"The Devil's Violinist" is a story of love, obsession, and the magic of music-where art and dark emotions collide to create unforgettable moments.

A poem about being unique

i am [dmgd] I am [s;nk;ng] bl4t/ntly [0vrth1nkng]

What is the border between signifier and meaning? What form can poetry take? I try, in these poems, to push the idea that you can go beyond the common use of the words. With the introduction of new technology, the rules of writing change by bringing innovation to the language. [The cover of this poetry collection is my work] Qual è il confine tra significante e significato? Quale forma può assumere la poesia? Con questa raccolta provo a portare avanti l'idea che si possa andare oltre l'uso comune delle parole. Con l'introduzione di nuove tecnologie le regole della scrittura cambiano portando innovazione nel linguaggio poetico. [La copertina della raccolta è un mio prodotto]

I don't paint with precision. I paint with everything I feel. This is the story of what it means to love in color - wildly, sincerely, and without a guarantee of being understood. Told in six quiet pieces, this poetic journey follows one heart's attempt to give everything it is... even when it doesn't fit. For anyone who's ever offered too much, and still hoped to be seen.

-Fractal Poetry- (Visual) Come, and take a glimpse into my mind... A collection of all the fractal poetry I've written through the years. Please also take a good look at the added pictures with each poem as they go hand in hand. (Those pictures (fractals) are all artwork I made myself.)

Whenever I feel sad or gloomy, Whenever I am filled with joy, Or maybe I'm just to tired to speak, I think, I write, and slowly expand From beautiful boughs, To irredeemable shows, I imagine, I create And that's why I am called a poet. A bunch of short poems just to refresh my feelings and mind. I hope you'll enjoy reading this bunch!!!

From Angels to Humans, from the story of an artist to the one of a warrior, from the sensations of a victim to another, this book can be called a middle point. A virtual stage on which feelings of a diverse palette are either revealed or secluded, conveyed or camouflaged, played with or not. A stage on which a show is played by one in strong settings and many in fading shades of greys. Based on a project meant as an homage brought to victims of abuse of any kind, this collection gathers some pieces of writing that include particles of journal-style writing, a bit of poetry and rhythmic and rhyming pieces through which I am trying to make the puzzles of the entire picture not yet fully created send their vibes and generate sensations for the readers to interpret and understand through their own spirits. http://www.aiakira.com/439873347

Let's cancel love people. I no longer want to feel it.

Step into a world where silence speaks and rebellion whispers. Dazzle's poetry dives deep into the soul-exploring identity, longing, and the quiet ache of not quite fitting in. Each piece is a mirror and a map, reflecting raw emotion while guiding readers through the shadows of self-discovery. With haunting imagery and lyrical precision, this collection is for anyone who's ever felt too much, too little, or somewhere in between. ✨ Read if you crave poetry that lingers long after the last line.

Poem

In life we have many faces and facades we put up depending on the social situation or climate we are in. This poem explores the idea that no person is as simple as they seem. As human beings our personalities are multifaceted, and sometimes personal circumstances may force us to act in a manner that is opposite to how we truly feel at heart, causing these personalities to be in constant conflict.

Ravena directs with precision. Seris enters the scene with surrender. What begins as a film becomes a ritual of silent love. Between costumes, motorcycles, and hidden hot springs, something deeper than directing and acting is born. A story about loving the way one directs: with total command. And being loved the way one performs: with absolute surrender.

prickly cacti and ravenous vultures are my only friends

The screen fades to black. A heartbeat echoes-slow, steady, heavy. Then a voice: "You don't know me. You don't know where I come from. You don't know what I carry." The scene sharpens. Eyes lock. The air vibrates with silence, the kind that makes the hairs on your neck rise. The kind that warns you: something dangerous is standing in front of you. This isn't anger that shouts. It isn't rage that flails. This is control on the edge of breaking. This is a storm contained in a glass, one crack away from spilling over. Someone smirks. Someone tests. Someone says the wrong words-"I get down." And the world tilts. The blackout rises. The other self wakes up. This poem takes you inside that moment-the shaking hands, the locked stare, the choice to turn away before the darkness swallows everything. It's the raw confession of what it means to inherit fury, to be born into fire, to live with a split inside you: one calm, one ready for war. You'll walk the property line where fear doesn't exist. You'll feel the warning spoken with chilling calm: "Try me if you want to. You have been warned." And you'll understand why respect isn't asked for-it's commanded. This is not just poetry. This is survival written in blood and memory. This is the blackout no one wants to see, yet everyone will remember. Stop scrolling. Step into the story. Once you read it, there's no turning back.

When you feel you are walking alone.

Lord, Kiss Me is a poem that leverages on the emotion of a fictional person desperate for the saviour's lord. His life hangs on a kiss, To the Chronicler, the "Kiss" is the highest expression of agape love. The poem is full of awe striking images such as cold weather, emotions of hazyness, guilt and leverages on the supranatural etc

Just feeling and writing the rain induced feelings.