i know that
most days
the cathedral of your body
with all its dips and curves
forgotten staircases
and ripped velvet covers
on the splintered pews
is hard to love

and there are days
where you wish that your
body would have manifested itself
as a palace
made of ivory and bone
with great empty halls
that would host nothing else
but your anguished cries
and empty stomach

but these things
are incapable of filling you up
because it is hard to sustain yourself
on bitterness and past scars alone

so i say to you
my friends
brothers and sisters
my lovers
and those living in the wastelands
of themselves

cast aside these
things for you are not a church
or a palace or a temple

no
you are something
much stronger and vast
grow yourself into a forest

turn all the sleepless nights
and breakdowns and hospital visits
and suicide attempts
and those traintracks of scars
into the great twisting trunks of trees

grow yourself as big and bold
as you need to be
protect yourself
wrap up all your sharp and soft
edges and corners
into the bark of mother nature

become a forest
because
through fire and drought and storm
and flood
the forest always comes back
even the charred remains of trees
stand strong

so
i say to you
with your dark circles
and long sleeves
and chest hidden behind a binder
with all your scars
and imperfections
be a forest
because
a forest is unstoppable
it always comes back
it always grows back

and so will you

At one moment, my life was a rose. Crumbled in the hands of greed only to recover naturally as it grows beneath the weeds.

Darling,
I honestly believe that once you tear everything down
what you rebuild can be stronger than ever. When we demolish everything
down to the very foundations
you're forced to notice the flaws from last time. And you did notice, you did know
better than I did
that though I have no practice at anything
other than giving up and walking away, I am capable of rebuilding. That knowledge, it seems, is only the latest in you proving me wrong, showing me
I'm better than I think, letting me know in the best way possible, exactly how
I have underestimated you. Darling,
I could go on, but I think
I need to thank you for not listening
to my urging you
my urging the world
my urging myself- thank you
for not giving up on me.

Letting go of love that once kissed my lips
Walking a new path I stumbled and tripped
A long cold plummet left me almost alone
Do I whither with Shame or rebuild and grow?

Sprouting through the soil and stretching for the sun
I grasp for every ray and drink them one by one

Feeling soft forgiveness and strong acceptance
Sadness has served its sentence

Purple petals relax themselves slowly opening with relief
This flower now sweetly scented grew from the ugliness of grief

There was once an angel with one broken wing,
that had a vision of regrowth at the end of a dream,
woke up one morning and began fixing things

finished mending her method of flight,
again had the freedom to fly through the sky,
however fast, however high, however wrong, however right

And one day she was going about,
saw a spark of light amidst a very dark cloud,
she spoke to him and asked his name,
with no reply he only slowly grinned,
with the flash of a smile,
she was consumed by him

She stayed in captivity for a while unseen,
until again she awoke from a lucid dream,
determined to change everything
insisted she knew exactly how to break free

So she fought and she fought to knock the walls down,
but eventually found she had an easy way out,
slipped right though that crack and swore she'd never look back

As she flew she began to grow cold,
and it seemed she had forgotten where it was she had to go,
she flew in circles hoping no one would know,
but soon enough her secret was exposed

She asked for a hug,
to be reminded of love,
the way the maker had intended...
Wanting more she took out a loan
on a garden she was determined to grow

As the flowers bloomed she was again consumed
by the power of the spark,
as light shined through, her keeper knew,
she was ready again for what only he could do

She was surprised by the spark, his eyes pure blue,
his voice of reason so fresh, so new,
a past more broken, held together with glue
than the one she was fighting,
with a blindfold and noose

She made it through a great depression,
or so her mind had made her think,
but she was still young, and so very naive
this was a plan she could never foresee
So she went along, with the bigger plan,
learning how to let things happen,
discovering life, in a completely new light
making sense of the unimagined

She spent a day in silence,
tuning the entire atmosphere out,
and when she waited for the voice to come,
she was able to hear the sound

A voice so calm and steady,
familiar sweet and heavy,
telling her she's ready,
for the test she would be getting

It told her to stop, and slow it all down,
look at things a little differently now,
eliminate hate, and jealousy,
replace it with positivity

That loving yourself is the key to it all,
the only way to be sure you can handle the fall,
the right way to get through it even if you have to crawl,
the best way to ensure, the engines wont stall

As she began to understand this,
she no longer ignored pain,
she accepted these things for just what they were,
and started living again

And on a little journey,
she took with his spark today,
she found that he had found himself,
along the broken way

Again she was consumed,
but in a positive sort of way,
never again would she look
at any spark the same

The angel and that spark,
sit now on a different level,
holding hands tight like handles,
passion burning like candles,
caught up in the blaze
            her plans went up in shambles

And maybe its the shambles,
that builds the stories end,
of a love that will never be lost,
and the finding of a friend

Forgive me while I sit here,
without too much to say,
but I find I become speechless,
when our souls begin to play

Push me, pull me, love me, hold me.

when you hear politics
you usually think
poli-tricks
as in
the man in the suit
who stands up on stage
speaking false words and
reaping false prais
or the election promises
to End the War, Save the Children, Create More Jobs
Pony's for Everyone.

or the media pundits
who bicker and argue and flaunt
their superiority, their cynicism
over the public nightly
in Prime Time and technicolor lighting
you think of the pyramids
of the gods and the masters
imploring and coercing and driving
us,
faster, faster

of all the wars and drilling just beyond your control
of a separation and distance
from the actions this very instance
which are taken in your name
and worst of all, for most of us
politics, is Out There.
beyond your domain
or beyond your care

but politics is more than
an anonymous ballot drop
in an anonymous ballet box
politics is in the way
you step out your door
and follow that yearning
for something More

politics is in the way
you treat the Other
be it your next door neighbor, the stranger on the street,
or your lifelong brother

politics isn't being politically correct
but it's about having a level of respect
deep enough to accept
that your Words,
shape your World

politics is in connecting the
Me to the We
so that together we might
Be
something more than the sum of our parts

politics is in the conversation you had with
the person behind the cardboard sign
and whether you let them remind
you that God Loves You
and I don't mean God Above
sending you love letters on the wings of a dove
but the God in you and in me
the God we can all feel and see
the God of perfect unity

politics is in the linking of our arms
because although
we may have retreated
the People, United
Will Never Be Defeated

politics isn't in ivory towers behind closed doors
or strictly for super-powers
politics isn't in the oval office
any more than a sarcophagus
because politics isn't a photo op,
kissing babies, or a meet and greet
politics is You and I, together
in the streets
and in the parks
before, during, and after dark

politics is reclamation and restoration
regrowth and renewal
it's in the invisible fibers
which bind and align us
in how we redesign Us
to encompass that which must
become part of our moral compass

because it seems to me
that hierarchy
is a bunch of malarkey
a system of oppression and exploitation
compounded over millenia
of violent suppression and spiritual stagnation
until, Today
where we stand divided
by color class creed
****** preference
and gender id
enframed and maimed by bureaucracy
each of us, alone
doubting our own efficacy
so I tell you,
stand up, and smash your TV

because you won't find revolution
inside of a box
or get it from attending
inflammatory talks
because revolution is more
than overthrowing capital or the state
revolution is in the relationships that we create
within the rotting shell of this system of hate
revolution is in discourse and public debate
in neighborhood assemblies
and Occupations of late
because power, true power
isn't where they told us
power is, and always will be
with us in the polis, the people, el pueblo, rejoice!
and as we begin to awaken,
to this most true realization
remember,
We,
Are Unstoppable
Another World is Possible

A cropped haircut, remembrances of time
The best way to reduce cuticles to bone
And forget what dances behind eyelids
Loosed teardrops and wavering dependability
Useless porch light, shameful gas tank
With shadows which count seconds
Stretching over regrowth
A cropped haircut, remembrances of time

As I examine the contents of my soul
I’m disheartened by how much is missing,
and the condition of the remains
Over three years of regrowth;
over three years of growing pains
Your roots wove to every corner
The voids they left give me hell
After everything you put me through
It’s a feeling I know all too well

In each shallow breath on my neck as you lie with me,
In each ***** gust is a fragment of my completion.
In each gently murmured whisper fed to my ear,
There is a song of unity, regrowth and affection.
The lightly moistened imprints of your lips
Draw forth sighs, that I share with no one else.
Tucked away and safely kept, in a vault fashioned by your kisses.
Your delicate, yet firm and earnest hand on the nape of my neck,
The other rubbing across the contours of my torso,
Gently grazing nails, leave barely visible red trails
That mark the path of your caresses.
You leave your impressions on my eager skin,
Every minute separation leaves it longing for your touch.
You soften my hard exterior, and stoke my passions,
Harden my steel in the furnace of desire.
My hands work with serpent fluidity
Until moistened, blood flushed,
I enter inside you.
Then it is my breath on your neck,
My hands on your soft body,
My lips on your throat, chin, mouth and each breast.
Only in pleasing you, do I finally find completion.