They say there are people
that you get to know
and there are people
that you already know
I don't know what you saw in me
or why you waited for me
on that salad bar outside
or what kind of connection you felt
but I felt like our souls
have been friends for a long time.
On the nights that I find myself
walking the streets we walked
entering the art store where we met
it doesn't even matter if I'm alone
or with a bunch of friends
there will always be that voice
in my head telling me, this is it
this is where it happened
and I let it all go
I let you go.
Wow I waited for a very long time to post this, I guess I'm finally ready to talk about it.
She hailed ...from a place:
...A beating field,
where all-things were alive.
...Where the two of them breathed,
without: Stone, Dust, or any-thing...
obstructing their lungs.
...From a place, which she carried
along, up high -- over her head & shoulders --
& displayed for the both of them.
...Sprang forth from him ...anthurium--tendrils of laceleaf.
Then, from deeper, she angled poppies...
out from his chest;
darker shades of red,
as their field further developed ...expanded;
till a tide, consequently formed,
from all of the abundance being born.
Their ocean swayed. All the liquids & waters
having poured from him, rippled;
~~~~ pulsated ((((((((( tons & tons ))))))))) ...atop the soil,
which lie buried now,
beneath their ocean___
flattened & floored.
She came from a place...
..named His Heart; a place she pulled
...from him. She tore him apart....
..to shreds.... so that she could stand
with him, like this, & spend time
with him, like this, entwined at the roots
with him like this, just as she saw in her mind,
before any stars & such crossed or aligned:
...Within this red sea:
..their field of anthurium--laceleaf,
Forcing myself to step away, although my mind is explosive right now with ideas. Although.... that is also why I am forcing myself to step away.
Over the logs and dirt of a camp ground, you still shine. A blazing, bright fire.
Fire is also an element of destruction, of rage, but also of love. The burning red love you have for someone.
But my favourite type of fire is blue fire. Looking like the polar opposite of burning red hot, blue fire is hotter than red.
And to think that a full rainbow can come out of the flames of chaos.
How beautiful is the colour of destruction...
I slowly fell in love with blue,
And not because that was the color of your eyes,
But because that's how I felt when you told me your lies .
And that's how you looked whenever I left your side .
I fell in love with the water as it flowed against your skin,
And not only because it shone blue,
But because it pushed me towards you .
I think I cheated on blue with pink,
When I whispered upon your lips and didn't think .
The rosy red color captivated me,
And that's when blue wasn't good enough for me .
I like the colour purple,
as it blooms across my skin,
The delicate spread of lavender,
dappled with yellow and green.
I like the smell of iron,
of copper pennies and blood
As it oozes form a scab
or drips from a fresh cut.
I like the feel of my ribs,
the bones beneath my skin,
The curve of my skull under my cheek,
Or the joints of every knuckle.
(and yes Colour is spelt right, that's how we spell it in England.)
Whatever I'd say
you won't listen, you nut.
You do the opposite
of what you are asked.
Like with child discourse with you:
tell a boy not to touch
chocolate, he will eat all.
Allow it - won't be fussed.
If I urge you to not to
press the button, you will.
So I'm urging to do it!
(to stop you from doing it).
Tian is five
Tian is lonely
Tian has no friends
She's locked in her room
The clock is a close companion
She watches it count down to noon
With a piece of chocolate in her hand
She stares at the red balloon.
I'm seven now
I 'm locked away
My parents shame
Their secret child
I live alone in this room
and I know no one
But this balloon
The red, round balloon
That's lived for three days
The red, round balloon
I hope you stay
I'll give you chocolate
That's all I have
My names Tian
and I'm lost
Tian is a very smart girl, and she knows why her parents do to her what they do.
Should I make a second part to this?
I was stumbling in a field.
Firelight in my eyes,
Burning bright red
in the camera lens.
It wasn't a trick of the light,
the drugs or the beer;
it was a glance of love.
I was stumbling in a field.
Red-eyed and smitten,
Crossing minefields to you by choice.
Perhaps that is the only way
to walk the course of love.
Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God
There lived a man,
with wife and child,
Who toiled the hours away.
He was never home,
So his son was wild,
And the man's hairs turned to gray.
The man, he prayed,
for something new,
To break his boring days.
The next day, on the shore,
On the edge of a cliff,
Was a girl with her hair ablaze.
The lady turned with a shake of her hips,
And the man did cry of lust.
For he knew that his wife,
His black haired jewel,
had half the face and half the bust.
But the girl on the shore,
With the bleeding hair,
had a trick for the man she'd ensnared.
She told the man her dastardly plan,
For she knew she could never be shared.
The man went home, and he tied up his bride,
Went away to find his blade.
Her hair of black did turn to white,
for she had never been so afraid.
When the man returned,
He cut her throat and she fell down from the bed.
Her blood did pool around her,
Till her hair was dripping red.
So the man returned to his mistress,
Who was waiting beneath the palm tree,
His mistress wore his spouse's face,
She killed him and ran into the sea.