Le Sang Bohème

I know nothing

Of the red flesh of a heart,

Of epiphanies that cut it.

My expertise is sapphire,

Semi liquid

Like the ocean during storms,

Like alchemy roses melting

In the cauldron of my art.

All is abstract

When the pagan magic incense

Sends my high to higher skies,

When the moon’s sarcasm teams

With the sun’s most genuine smile

And wonder!

They f**k with my deepest wants,

Flying me through songs and murals

Through poems of savage lines 

With metaphors of an organ

That instead of crimson juice

Pumps the blue and dazzling dark,

The essence of revolution

Always hidden, always forceful,

Bittersweet and clandestine. 

Reviews

[Vile]

So, lets begin.

Firstly, Ill say this is gorgeously written in particular areas, I'll emphasis on those shortly.
In this piece you are a paragon of subtlety.

"I know nothing
Of the red flesh of a heart,
Of epiphanies that cut it."

Fresh start that introduces us to what seems to be the basis of this piece, an admission of what I decipher as emotional detachment. Not just a lapse in emotion but a complete derailment. You don't say "I never quite knew the red flesh of a heart" you said "I know nothing" your word choice is what sets this apart, to imply you never knew any measure of what it truly means to be deeply emotionally involved. "epiphanies that cut it" could refer to moments of desperation, lust, or really anything that may be detrimental to our emotional integrity.
In truth, I am almost certain I'm wrong, I regret to admit I do not have the time I wish I did tonight to delve into this as much as I'd like to. Regardless, this introduction was constructed beautifully.


"My expertise is sapphire,
Semi liquid
Like the ocean during storms,
Like alchemy roses melting
In the cauldron of my art."

I've read this over a few times and I cannot quite figure out what 'expertise' is referring to, expertise in what? Perhaps the expertise is your lack of emotional attachment, that would make sense when linked to the rest of what is written. You're pertaining to yourself, you are sapphire. Now this could have dozens of meanings. Lets narrow this down. Sapphire, in its purest state is colorless, but trace amounts of various elements such as iron, or nickle may alter its hue, producing a variety of colors like, most favorably when referring to sapphire, blue. I think the blue is irrelevant, you're using sapphire in either two ways here, to remark upon your hardened outlook or stoic measures. Or youre referring to its colorlessness in its purest state and speaking comparatively, that you are inherently colorless. Subject to change and alteration, pliable, durable and most importantly, adaptable. Hence the "semi liquid" line. However you could also be referring to the belief ancient cultures had that sapphire was associated with truth and sincerity. Though, I don't think you're using it that way.
"Like the ocean during storms"
-unpredictable, unrelenting and always changing.
"Like alchemy roses melting"
-Alchemy is, in its most basic form, a science that studies the natural laws that govern us, and attempts to manipulate them through deconstruction and reconstruction, as to ultimately reshape or transform matter. You use this to show that your sudden changes, and adaptability is deliberate.
"In the cauldron of my heart"
As I mentioned above you ensure to notify the reader that this is deliberate, however I believe you use cauldron in two ways here. One, to correspond with the line "roses melting", but alchemy roses would be artificial, not as treasured.
Two, you use it to characterize the instability of yourself. You, your art, your expertise.



"All is abstract
When the pagan magic incense
Sends my high to higher skies,
When the moon’s sarcasm teams
With the sun’s most genuine smile"

"All is abstract" I would say this sums up your poem in 3 words.
"When the pagan magic incense sends my high to higher skies"
I am unsure what you're alluding to when you refer to you "my high", that is rather ambiguous and difficult to narrow down.
Let's see, "Pagan magic incense" is a type of incense, so you're specifically referring to that, and not paganism as a whole (I believe).
Your dread is your sensory deprivation, your high is feeling. In this stanza(so to speak) you're speaking about a moment, when the delicate smell of an incense can liberate you, something so seemingly insignificant allows you to flourish. Such as listening to a song you love, hearing the voice of someone long missing, tasting mothers home cooked pie.
"When the moon’s sarcasm teams
With the sun’s most genuine smile"
These two lines are my favorite, lovely. The light that radiates from the moon is caused by reflection of the sun, harnessing what the sun possesses. You're speaking about duality here. At night you feel confined, even mocked by the thought of the vastness that lay above you. At day you are anew, awash with the comfort and the warmth the sun yields, though even at night you are reminded by the light that the sun is just around the corner.
I may be wrong in this part, I kind of started rambling. A line to obsess over.



"And wonder!
They f**k with my deepest wants,
Flying me through songs and murals
Through poems of savage lines
With metaphors of an organ
That instead of a crimson juice
Pumps the blue and dazzling dark,
The essence of revolution
Always hidden, always forceful,
Bittersweet and clandestine. "

Your wrapping this up, beautifully I may add.
"Through poems of savage lines
With metaphors of an organ"
This part especially.

Overall, I believe you're speaking about emotions, feelings; what they offer us and what they can condemn us to. Good or bad. In this poem you remark upon almost not wanting to feel at all, but then simultaneously display exactly what you love about what feelings give us. The capacity to adapt, to become more than crude matter. What one single, insignificant delight of the senses can bring us to feel-- to experience and in that endeavor we are some how liberated. Whether soaring through murals and music, or devouring the pulse of the open calm. Flipping through pages of melancholy poetry or fueling our deepest desires. No matter what they are always with us, hidden, forceful, bittersweet and clandestine.

[Marian Elizabeth]

You got some parts of it. However, poetry is personal. I own this but so do you as the reader. Whatever meaning you obtained from it is the meaning you should embrace.
I am glad you enjoyed it.