Crying Helps

You can cry if you need to, sky;
you can cry if you need to.
I saw your lighting,
and I heard your thunder;
I know you are upset.

I will come out to sing for you,
and dance for you,
stretch my hands to you,
until you stop.
You can shed your tears into my palms.

I won’t hide from you;
you can’t always be strong.
I’ll listen to you,
and say nice words to you;
I won’t go till I see your sun.

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Let’s Give the Sky a Show

I bet the members of the firmament 
always wonder what we do indoors
after we leave the courtyard each night.
Let me make love to you here tonight
before their very eyes.
Let’s make the moon shine brighter in shock,
and give the stars something different to twinkle about.

Venus in “Deadtrograde”

A plate of pain keeps
the potential heartbreaker away.
Two glasses of my old tears daily
will help me not go astray.
I am strong and I need no one’s attention,
but I want to be desired,
and I want affection,
but I was hurt,
I don’t want a repetition,
but I want love,
and I can feel the tension.

I don’t cry.
I don’t cry anymore because
there’s a pool of my tears
in my heart,
and I like to swim in it,
or go down, down, down,
and drown,
when a potential One
comes too close
to my feelings’ flat.
If anyone is to decide when I drown,
it has to be me, myself and I.
Would you give another potential
pretentious,
manipulative
dingbat
a chance to decide when you die?

Six planets are in retrograde
in my natal chart,
and venus used to be one of them,
but she’s not anymore.
My venus is dead;
a man has stabbed my sickly venus to death.

The Passover

He looked like every other angel of birth,
but he was an angel of death,
He looked like every other angel of berth,
but he was an angel of dearth.
He would make you moan in pleasure
so he could make you groan in pain.
I had been warned by his ex-prey,
and I was prepared to drive him insane.
I sprinkled the blood of his victims
on my door,
and in my eyes,
and in my ears,
and on my lips,
and on his head.
“You can’t kill me like you did them.
You have tried in vain, lame.”
He passed right over me,
and he never called me again.

Life is a Tyranny & Time is the Ruler

We are slaves of Time.
It is not a male or a female;
it is a lot greater than both.
It puts us in tight chains
before we even exist.
It is an invincible master
that cannot be rebelled against.
From the time we are born
till the time we die,
time rules us.

Today, it is too early;
tomorrow, it is too late.
Today, we are too young to do this;
tomorrow, we are too old to do that,
till our breaths are seized from us.

Life makes us do time,
and whether we like it or not,
we do it with our hearts behind our backs,
helpless.

You’re My Home

I breathe easier when I think of you.
I feel better when I talk to you.
I beam all day when I dream of you.
I find refuge and strength in you.

Love is a Butterfly

If you truly love a butterfly,
you ought to let her fly.
She’ll show you her buttery side if you do.
If you open your palm wide enough,
she’ll always perch in it if she wants you.
Don’t break her wings off
because your fears make you want to.
If you squeeze her in,
you would either weaken her
or make her cry,
or make her die,
and at any chance she gets to be free,
she’ll fly far away
and never come back again. 

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.

She Suffers II: “Where are You?”

Tom-Thomson-Woodland-Waterfall-RTT02

“Woodland Waterfall” by Tom Thomson

The man isn’t clingy;
“clingy” is too belittling,
it’s degrading,
too degrading.

He is possessive;
he knows what he wants
and he’ll get and keep it at all costs.
Being possessive is cute.

The woman is possessive?
I think not.
She is clingy,
maybe too clingy.
You can’t own a man;
you have to let him live.
A man is not built to be
with just one woman.

You see, unfortunately,
men can’t be hoes,
but women can.
Being clingy isn’t cute;
it will never be.

Sun-Child

Sun Child

You’re quite eccentric,
aren’t you, sun-child?
This minute, you’re wild,
moments later, you’re mild,
something changes about the previous way
in which you smiled,
as if you have a switch with which
you control your lights.
It used to make me cry,
now I’m somewhat beguiled.

No one can make you the sun
they want you to be,
there’s more to you
than anyone can see,
you’re true to yourself
and that’s awesome by me,
and even if you turn red or green
or the colour of the sea,
as long as you are happy
and as long as you are free,
I would still be proud of you,
do you hear, sun-child?