Thing 1 & 2

Osun (Giseli Magalhães)

Osun [Giseli Magalhães]

Thing 1 was not thirsty,
but I offered him a drink.
He drank till my cup was empty
and threw me in me to sink.

I struggled back to shore,
you can bet that I was sore,
but Thing 2 grabbed me by my finger,
and told me his intentions were pure.

The river of love is full again,
the river of love is me,
but Thing 2 is still famished,
’cause my cup was smashed at sea.

So tell me, ìyá mi ‘Kojú,
help me make my strength from you. 
How do you tell yourself that Thing 1
is everything but nothing like Thing 2?

Advertisements

Love and Life

Little-Yachtsman

“Little Yachtsman” by Amanda Jackson

He cannot be the love of your life
if what he has is the love of your life,
not the love of you.
He praises you because you have this,
and you can do that,
but those things removed,
he wouldn’t know what to do with you;
you would have no use to him.

Stages of Life

Arodan Image

Things do not end
because they weren’t meant to be,
but because they were.
Predestined,
planned,
timed,
like a stage play,
to be seen,
to be experienced,
to be felt,
to be learnt from.

As soon as the play is done,
and the end begins,
actors should take front-row seats
and watch their own work-
what they could have done better,
what they should do and not do
in the next play,
as opposed to regretting
that they took part in it
in the first place,
as awkward as it may seem,
as much as it may hurt.

Love: Wings and Legs

Collete Miller.png

Painted by Collete Miller

Love gives you wings, 
but when the wings are abruptly taken away, 
your legs are yanked off too.

Love, after it is withdrawn,
leaves you somewhat paralyzed.

And so,
first,
you have to grow a new pair of legs-
the process hurts like a “modafocka”.

Then you develop an irrational fear of wings,
which is funny,
but also sad.

I Don’t Make Law-ve

D6

I don’t want wings
that’ll just look good on me;
I’ll only wear wings
if they let me fly.

I don’t want wings
that’ll just put eyes on me;
I’d rather die twice
than live a lie.

The Plot

I should tell you a thing
that happened many centuries ago,
that only I know of.
The stars were going on again
about how great it would be
to replace the moon with the sun.

“Oh, she’s so dull; she’s no fun.
The sun shines brighter;
she’d be so much better for us.”

They all connived to do the replacement
that ended up being very successful.
No one even knew they existed
with the sun shining so brightly;
they hated every minute of having her around.

The grass is greener when you look from afar.
Flowers tend to be extremely beautiful,
until you pluck them to keep and they die.
The sun draws you to her,
she gives light and love and warmth,
like a beautiful, adult siren,
until you draw really close.

The moon decided to return,
and take her place,
as you can see;
your moon may not decide to.

Protect Your Love

Love is a beautiful spirit
that we get possessed by.
We don’t just feel it,
like happiness or sadness,
it becomes a part of us.

But,

spirits get possessed by other spirits.

Love could get possessed by obsession,
and obsession by jealousy,
and jealousy by violence,
and violence by pain,
and pain by regret,
and regret by hatred,
in no specific order.

Guard your love from the other spirits,
for it can be protected.
Guard it consciously,
before it gets suffocated.
Guard it internally;
guard it gently.

Let your love live.

Hope

Naturally, you hope less
when there is less hope.
You could even become hopeless,
but an hopeless end would mean nothing
to you if you have endless hope.

So, I hope that your hope will know no end
as you journey through life,
and that you will doubt less.

A Damn Mess

I was licking my wounds
but you stopped me.
You wanted to do it
so I let you.
You licked and sucked till
my wounds became scars.
Then, you cut me again
at the exact same spots.

So, here I am, a damn mess,
studying our synastry chart
for the 50th time,
fiddling with tarot cards,
tiredlessly hoping you’d come back.
I want your tongue and yours alone,
and I know that even if you return,
you would lick me up
so you can cut me again.

What is Love? III: A Cage

a_bird_in_a_cage_by_sebowebo-d5esu3r

“A Bird in a Cage” | Sebastian Gomez 

Dear Love,
why don’t you love me?
Why do you like to punish me?
You possess and drain my strength,
but you let the other go scot-free.
When I am in you
and when I am not,
when you are in me
and when you are not,
I am always lonely.