A Bright day,
As some would say,
There she stood,
Waiting in the hallway,
Her hair flowing,
Red with a hint of grey,
The elegance with,
Which her body sways,
And the beauty,
Of her flawless face,
Time has stopped it seems,
For me to admire,
The Aphrodite of my dreams.
Forgive Her oh gods, she knows not what she does,
Forgive her Aphrodite, she knows not who she shuns,
She knows not how Her glint steals the eye of e'ry man,
And ensnares the heart of all touched by Her hand,
She knows not the deep red your cheeks are brought to,
When She wakes e're morning to be greeted by morning dew,
She knows not the waves of jealously,
Felt by women for their men, and by the men of me,
And warrants the jealous stare of you, a deity,
So while on Her behalf I offer you an apology,
I still do acknowledge Her greater beauty.
we walk with faces to the sky
the goddesses on earth
our words from a breathless heartsigh
we appear with old grecian beauty
and not such modern masks
it comes in hand with our ancient virtues
true to our everlasting tasks
hera; dark curls and flaming passion
striking down all who cross her
thin and wary is she
artemis; earthy flesh and midnight coils
gentle to the wild and bow-weilding
athletic and kind is she
demeter; flaxen tresses and tenderness
protecting her wards
mothering and calm is she
athena; thick legs and honey hair
raising blood-soaked war flags
wise and fearless am i
you shine bright as the sun
you're as beautiful as the
stars in the night sky
you're more brilliant
than a shooting star
more rare than a comet
i'm red with anger
much like mars
over not being in the
same room as yours
your blue eyes
draw me in and
make me feel safe
much like uranus
their beautiful pale blue
color matches your eyes
don't forget the kindhearted
yellow color of venus
named after the goddess
of love aphrodite
that planet can represent
my love for you
because you're my light
in the darkness
of all space
and to end this
know that if you leave
i'll miss you dearly
so please stay
and be my moon
together we'll create harmony
and within each other
because we're all stars
There was a Moment
When the Purest Love
It Was Joy
I had Seen Him
In a Vision
Its Surprised Me
All of It
Until He came Around
and Reached thru
Again and Again
Thru Time and Space
All I had to Do
Was Give My Hand
All I Knew to Give
Were My Words
Aphrodite, not Apollo.
Because you don't understand love,
I catch your attention
by speaking your language -
body and verbal.
You could've cried on my shoulder,
but you'd rather cry my name
as if you had ever longed to speak it.
for selling yourself short -
the heart costs more
than a single night
and a couple drinks.
A song from when you were young
tells of "a better touch, a better fuck".
Legendary like the disco,
Sweetie, you had me.
And the irony is in the fact
you were never really in this scene.
You love it when it hurts,
you beg to be bruised,
then you wallow in grief
as you cry in the dark
all alone in a bed made for two.
They're selling a product
that's far over-produced;
it's not authentic,
Be an artist,
be a God,
make love -
your tainted rose petals
could use another coat
and a little tender thought and care.
And just as you exclaim,
as you sink,
admire us high above
floating on Aphrodite's clouds.
Like my grandmother before her,
Mama was a regular Midwest Aphrodite,
and Daddy, with his working-man hands, her Hephaestus.
I always knew my mother didn't love my father
the way you know the sky is blue.
It is the curse laid upon the women of my family
that no man can ever tame the storms beneath our skin,
and I am no exception.
But it still stung
the day my parents called us into the kitchen,
buttered us up with breakfast,
and explained that, sometimes,
"Things don't work out."
I always wish they'd said it better,
used words that didn't make us sound like
the family in a Lifetime movie
whose pain becomes a memory as the credits roll.
It took me year to understand -
when my mother would put me in the bath,
run the water through my hair, and whisper,
"Lie back, and let the sea hold you" -
it was a warning.
See, the cruelest trick they ever played on Aphrodite
was to put her on a pedestal
and declare her the "Goddess of Love."
Aphrodite never loved anyone,
never even herself.
All she did was hunger, hunger, hunger.
When I meet Hephaestus,
I'll shoot him square in the chest
and never look back.
She was both terrifying and beautiful,
A dream and a nightmare.
Music fell from her lips and
Magic came from her fingers.
When she screamed,
The skies shattered and the ocean raged.
And when she sang,
The sea joined her song and
The universe smiled.
For she was their daughter and she was a
Reflections of my self, my being, my person, my soul,
Forever replayed, reshown, redone, reinacted
For the fact is
The strength that settles in my palms is ignited by the ignorance of man.
Oh man oh man how corrupt and vile does your mind be
Calculating and engineering plans and strategies
That will never leave your mind,
To be or not to be
Of your confused biology, which hysterically
Questions your existence.
A gift so great,
Yet bronzed with your persistence to query the beauty I have given you,
Which is life!
Behind every man is a woman who loves and sacrifices their own needs and Necessities for happiness,
Clarity and justice.
A dancing cherubim dancing elegantly like a warm summer ray from your childhood Window.
The root of your soul
As if the buds of may.
Honey toned, chocolate foamed
All pleasures for your delight.
Spread on to one body of immaculate perfection
Formed from Aphrodite's tears.
But the woman,
The woman possesses such omnipotent spiritual clasp on nature
That if she was to know,
Even accept a miniscule quantity of this knowledge
To trap and encase a man like a rodent
Is to burn a ring of fire around his finger that leads life to his heart,
Where it beats impatiently to the tune of the womans song.
Skin soft, eyes lost
Sight of who I am,
Many different descriptions -although similar- still not the same,
But am I really to blame?
For the insecurities that you have belittled on me.
For my hair is long,
My skin dark,
But not right
A constant fight,
A battle to aim for the right kind of existence but even still
And realise whatever you insist, still
Which is that gift that i hold in my being here,
At my elegant stare,,
Which i dare
To offend the image, which you have sought to be womanly.
No longer do I fear my image
As it is a powerful icon of modern day life
To withstand the turbulent stresses and grind of strife
To help a man.