Aesthetes Poems - Poems about Aesthetes

... The human body may be a marvel, yet the aesthete prefers his were marble or gold or some other precious metal with a life approaching to eternal! For flesh and blood fail miserably as a ho......

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...The stench of puerile self-aggrandizement wafts through the air, a noxious cloud of platitudes and pomp, as the pusillanimous pustules of pseudo-intellectualism congregate to lavish accolades upon on......

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...The astrolabe – how it depresses me! The thing’s too perfect, no room left to grow. Repeat, refine, reduce – a legacy from which no vital spring can ever flow. The thing’s too perfect! No room......

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