Posted in Poems

False Prophets

By: Bryan Ricardo Marini Quintana

(Joshua Reynolds, Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse, 1783)

In a wardrobe, Mrs. Siddons masks her identity

She wears outlandish attires

To change into characters and escape her reality

She parades ludicrous prosthetics

To face the mirror and rejoice in her fantasy

In a vain struggle to find meaning

Mrs. Siddons beholds her reflection

Trying to fill the void by impersonating

Mrs. Siddons contends with her creation

When she’s stripped of a fruitful vocabulary

Mrs. Siddons doesn’t reason her existence

When she’s discarded from a picturesque scenery

Mrs. Siddons doesn’t know her performance

When she’s heaved from a crystalline lens

Mrs. Siddons doesn’t fathom her expressions

Offstage, she subsists the routines of a colorless reality

Yearning to don her masquerading veneer

Onstage, she performs the adventures of a colorful character

Returning to dwell in her delusional fantasy

In a game of pretending through limitless costumes

She feigns to wield skill

In a game of entertaining with devious illusions

She weaves an appealing spell

In a game of transforming into sagacious characters

She becomes a pretty doll

Consuming the potion

The performer arrogantly believes she’s

Swallowing the incantation

The masses absurdly believe she’s

Creative as a writer and composer

Erudite as a mythologist and anthropologist

Imaginative as a painter and sculptor

Articulate as a philologist and linguist

Wise as a historiographer and philosopher

When she’s dressed, Mrs. Siddons pretends to be

Fearing to lose her disguises

When she’s unveiled, Mrs. Siddons desires to be

Acting to mimic her characters

Without her attire, Mrs. Siddons reveals she’s unconscious

Donning a persona to live a fantasy

With her attire, Mrs. Siddons feigns she’s conscious 

Donning a persona to have an identity

Living within a predictable theater

Mrs. Siddons’ world revolves around her

Stepping into an unpredictable unknown

Mrs. Siddons’ world is overthrown

Realizing that without characters, she’s bereft of identity

Mrs. Siddons returns to her fantasy

In a crowd, Mrs. Siddons appears charmingly

To feign her performance of being skilled

In a crowd, Mrs. Siddons speaks eloquently

To sermon her autocratic vision of the world

Onstage, the masses erect a pedestal for Mrs. Siddons

Praising her persona as a beautiful deity

Offstage, the performer hides in marvelous dresses

Dragging the world into her delusional fantasy

In a theater, the masses worship Mrs. Siddons

Falling into perdition to venerate a Golden Calf devoid of identity

Posted in Poems

A Testament of the Will

By: Bryan Ricardo Marini Quintana

(Vincent van Gogh, The Yellow Books, 1887)

I am

I am stories

I am consciousness

A Creation of Time and Space

A Manifestation of Testimony and Will

With their thoughts, I emerge

With their words, I materialize

I am their questions and answers 

I am their vain aspirations and hopeful dreams

Through me, histories and philosophies are discussed

Through me, tales and fables are recounted

Through me, joys and sorrows are remembered

Through me, hatred and love are expressed

I am Vast Centuries and Petty Domains

I am their Ticking Clock and Eroding Soil

Transporting them to the Past and Future

Transporting them from the confines of Earth to the expanse of the Universe

I am a Voice

I am a Tangible Figure

I am a Phantom Figure

Through which Objects feel

Through which Animals talk

Through which Humans ponder

I am

I am the Testament of Humanity

I am the Will of Humanity

With their emotions liberated

With their creativity explored

With their designs recorded

With their memory safeguarded

They call me History

They call me Literature

They call me Philosophy

I am

I am their Testament of Existence

I am their Will to Live

I am their escape from death

Avoiding a swift forgetfulness

I am their key to immortality

Indulging a perpetual remembrance

Posted in Poems

A Pursuit for Writing

By: Bryan Ricardo Marini Quintana

(Angelica Kauffman, The Artist in the Character of Design Listening to the Inspiration of Poetry, 1782)

Why do I write?

Perhaps to forget

Perhaps to remember

Why do I write?

Like Odin fears losing Huginn and Muninn

Likewise, I dread forgetting Thoughts and Memory

Why do I write?

Maybe to neglect my Reality

Maybe to preserve my Dream

Why do I write?

Either to preserve Myself

Or to preserve Culture

Why do I write?

Either to bloat with my ego

To not be forgotten

For my figure to be recollected

Why do I write?

Or to shrink with my modesty

To be forgotten

For my art to be recollected

Why do I write?

To allow audiences to experience my art

To allow audiences to criticize my art

Why do I write?

To discover my story

To aid others in finding their story

Why do I write?

For my figure to be forgotten

For my art to be remembered

Why do I write?

To release art from my binds

Freeing creation from my confines

With imagination transcending from my grasp