Close your eyes.
Forget all money wasted on bearded ones.
Drill deep into the DNA.
Look for a funny little gene the shape of moth wings
curling at the tip. The moth will be black. Or red.
Or brown or blond, whatever is your gene.
Sometimes blue, you never know.
Enter the spirit of moth.
Give yourself to moth mind.
Remember your passage as a wiggly worm
chewing wool, apples, corn.
Remember the ecstasy of a new body, wings.
Find fiddleneck flowers.
Unroll the tongue, taste the exquisite nectar.
Find a moth-mate who complements your colors.
Frolic, dance with her in moonlight.
After the hoedown, fold your wings.
And grow, little hairs. Grow.
all surprises and excitement
full of hope
She is not concerned about the
demise of the Earth of which I am certain
yes, we are all going to die,
but she wants to live while she's alive
She speaks sometimes in whispers
utters sometimes in riddles
she teases strands of hair
between blistered fingertips
and cuts with blunt scissors
As soon as she's awake
she wants to play with the day,
you lean back, attentive and adoring
watching it all take place,
she's a swatch of colour
on this blank slate morning.
Your hand leaves a warm trail up my thigh
Our hearts going too fast
"Do you feel safe do you feel safe do you feel safe"
Holding each other like we'll never see each other
I can not breath
All the air in my lungs have been given to you
Legs tangled in the sheets
Fingers in your hair
"I feel safe i feel safe i feel safe"
I can smell you on my shirt
I can taste you on my lips
I never want to let go
"Please dont go please dont go please dont go"
I wont let you go
I cant let you go
Dont let me go
the world is a world it is a word and it spins spinning, spinning, spinning, around and around, and this is the world and it spins, spinning around and around and we are here to see it, to see it and watch it spinning spinning around, here we are watching the spinning, the world, it goes around and around and around, spinning
Let me touch your skin, your skin your skin, your skin is so white, the whitest I have ever seen the whitest I have ever seen, white like the snow in the mountains, the mountain snow, so white, so clear, so snowy white like in the mountains, and I want to touch it, I want to touch it, let me touch it. You are like a leper, your skin is filthy and you are disgusting, so disgusting, let me touch you.
How I love your hair, your hair is amazing, it is so long, it is so incredible and so amazing and beautiful, it is like great big rounds of silk and satin in a great round, let me touch your hair, let me touch your hair, let me put my nose to it, let me put my mouth and lips to it, and my face to it, I want to breathe the same heavy awesome air that you breathe, I want to taste the same air that you have found. Your hair is like an old carpet with stains, let me touch it.
This is the world, here we are, watching it, we watch it, we watch it spinning, it spins around and around, and it will go forever, it or we or it will go around and around and around and around, spinning, and we will be here to watch it, spinning, spinning, spinning, around. You are like the end to the day that lasted forever and forever, never ending, but now it is ending, and the day was never ending, but no more. And the earth will spin around and around.
i wonder if any of the same hair when we first got together is still on my head
it's a weird thought
maybe the very last centimeters
remember when my ex cut my hair?
remember both times i cut my hair to my shoulders or above?
i wonder where the hair is that you first touched
several hair brushes
scattered on pillows and old sheets
wherever i go my hair will leave
fall out from stress
somewhere, right now is the old me
or breaking down in the soil
now i am so artificial
or they have slowly decomposed
I used to dye my hair a lot and ocasionally I still do- but not like I used to.
The last line references how now I feel so fake.. I have changed so much. I used to be a care free person, I didn't care what people think. My hair has been almost every color possible. Nowadays I am always switching between blonde and brown, although it isn't me deep down, it puts me in the norm. I have been following the crowd and this poem talks about how I have come to realization about it through something so simple: hair.
In my mind that has also been something that means a lot to me and it would speak my personality through it's self. I'm always changing. I'm not who I was. I am fake as can be.
When she was 8 she hated his hair
when he was 9 he stuck gum on her chair
when she was 10 he looked like a scarecrow
when he was 11 he stood on her toe
when she was 12 he was the boy she loved to hate
when he was 13 he asked her out on a date
when she was 14 she thought she loved him
when he was 15, he knew he loved her
when she was 16 she was his biggest fan
when he was 17 he thought he was a man
when she was 18 their love was sunk
when he was 19 he was always drunk
when she was 20 she re-floated his boat
when he was 21 he wrote her a note
when she was 22 she was treated like a fool
when he was 23 he thought he was cool
when she was 25 she heard he'd got married
when he was 30 his marriage was buried
when she was 40 her marriage had ended
when he was 50 his heart had mended
when she was 60 she still missed his smile
when he was 70 he held her hand for a while
now they're 80 he asked what he'd wrote aged 21
"we were born to be soul mates until we're gone", she said