A gentle breeze of warmth pushes pleasant,
freakishly normal, but a smack on the water
builds waves that grow older and stronger.
You feel it all soft behind your eyes.
But there is always something missing
that on more cigarette can't fix.
There is always one bird flying
who just can't find the right sticks
to stand on, to launch from, to rise and
fight the world, so he glided circles
as Lady Hurricane approached.
He flew tired, then he flew more.
I opened the door to our house in Connecticut
in the red mist after Sandy and looked up, and
watched him ramble. "The Hawk in the Hurricane."
There he was circling, as if to prove his strength.
And when those boys and girls were murdered in Newtown,
just down the road,
I thought of him
like he was a good thing.
Brave enough stand and be a bad omen.
A crucifix with wings.
Innocent boys and girls are gone now.
Turned into a show we watch on TV.
But that is natural to life in this century,
so there's policy and argument
and my eyes turn back
to my own
endless circle
with an end.
Happiness makes a subtle appearance as just a humble breath,
a deli sandwich, as sun that peaks around the old windows.
And sees me,
invites a squint,
rises,
sets,
and then comes back.
Tears come streaming down my face,
Wiping off my make-up
Tears are streaming down my face,
Am I good enough for you?
I don’t want to try anymore
I don‘t see the point
Will this be the end
The end of me?
When I jump, I want to fly,
Would be better than staying here
I can’t stand watching
Everyone leave
Why can’t I be alright?
Why can’t things be the way
They way I want them to, be?
I just want to be happy and
Feel like the other girls
With their glorious curls
and lollipop swirls
There is no crime in being kind
To those who find
That being kind
Is hard enough
When they can't even smile
Just for a while.
I love it when you walk barefooted
its not the fairness of your skin
or the scarlet of your nails
I touch the ground you grace
I feel the flames on my face
Sometimes I think you are the devil
and how easy you tempt me like sin
And if you are the devil
your words are ideal persuasion
your kiss is addictive as heroin
a snake slithering under my sheets
So let nothing extinguish this heat
for its the love I have for your feet
Watching the curtains flutter was relaxing,
the window was open wide letting in a breeze,
it was evening but the air was warm,
and there was a strong smell in the air,
a summer smell,
it was one of those intense nostalgic kind of smells,
that flare up emotions with old memories,
and people in the gardens were laughing and drinking.
We were lying down on a mattress on the floor in your dad’s room,
both naked,
my pale white skin touching against your beautiful Arabic skin,
the colour of coffee.
A perfect mixture, sweet coffee and milk,
surely we were made for each other?
And you had your tiny arm wrapped around my waist,
your soft hand holding my chest,
and on my back I could feel your small breasts,
and your lips breathing hot breath down my neck
I was almost asleep.
Fights
They throw words like little hand grenades
because in our house, we cannot use fists
(I feel that those would hurt less)
and he,
small boy full of rage and sound and not much else
with fists balled to tight
each wanting to strike out, to break his sister's stupid face
Searching through the catacombs of his mind he thought only of falling through a war chest
searching for some sharpened bone or anything to use
he was a skilled warrior of the shadows
with one jab he could thrust thorns through her guarded heart
the precision of a sibling sniper on his side
he had wounded her before
he almost always won
but his wretched
sister
refused to lose this time
refused to be out manipulated
She too had been training
sharpening a silver tongue
that usually served as a shield to her brother's barbs and wicked advances
but today it was a dagger
and assassin for the old king
"You never loved me," he lunged with a flourish
She parried with a cuss word and a sigh
he danced aside, and jabbed at her flank
"I'm going to jump off the cliff" he declared
she scowled
this move usually did her in, but with one glare, she kicked the sword from his hand, and rounded upon him
no fencing foil was on her, no seemly battle ax
but a dagger
and she drew in close
the killing blow
"You are only my half brother" she whispered
and he
was vanquished
The battle done, the two sunk to their knees
and sobbed
Fights
They throw words like little hand grenades
because in our house, we cannot use fists
(I feel that those would hurt less)
An eye for an eye, mouth to a mouth,
The loudest music can't drown you out.
I can still feel your breath alive on my skin
And my mind just keeps screaming
"Don't let her in!"
"The loudest music can't drown you out" Meaning I can't get you out of my head
" 'Don't let her in' " like, don't trust her.
I know the explanations sound cheesy, but i'm going to put them there anyways just in case :)
I find I'm not a good-enough friend.
Because I'm too much of an awkward turtle,
I'm a coward when facing life's hurdles.
My words seem like they can't be trusted,
And secrets can't be trusted on me.
I find I'm not a good-enough friend.
I don't know what to say sometimes.
I try to strike a conversation
That I so regret at times.
I find I'm not a good-enough friend.
I feel like I come from a different planet,
A different dimension,
Or a different era.
I find I'm not a good-enough friend.
I'm not resourceful,
I can't be of help.
I'm just a meek little lamb.
I find I'm not a good-enough friend.
I'm scared of things,
Not brave,
Not courageous,
I'm way too out of place.
Oh someone please teach me how
I can be more than
A good-enough friend.
I AM,
I ask you…
Am I that spirit that pierces your soul
Am I that person that needs your soul
Am I despondent, am I aggressive
Do I feel you and fulfill your needs
Am I the consummate professional
Am I the poker faced, poker player
The winner
The loser
The captain or first mate of the ship
Am I the entertainer
I am who you believe I am
Please tell me
Who am I?
Love like wine --
Love like wine.
A love so sweet
Like grape from the vine,
From the vineyards of passion,
Where the fruits are plump;
Plump and fat,
Growing as the sun glistens on their skin.
No evil can breed in these roots,
For when the lights are dim,
The moonlight is a protector --
And love is never mute.
Love like wine --
Love like mine.
Organic, not fabricated
Though it may not stand the test of time,
For when my body decays,
And goes into another phase
Love cannot be sent --
There is no one to give it.
But may you ever read it,
And forever feel it.
A Sun upon your skin,
To the waves of your soul.
Caressing your heart,
Perfecting its art --
A wine tasting class
To taste a love of the future,
Making love in the future,
To share love of the past.
The basement of my mind.
Cluttered with shit storms and broken promises,
Withered alongside reminiscent daydreams of passed past nightmares.
I stare...
Into the internal dwellings of my deepest catacomb.
Unable to process what resides in my literal unconscious dungeon.
It's everything i've attempted to hide.
To die.
To let dwindle between cobwebs and dust bunnies.
My breath falls short.
Sifting through the residue of forgotten treasures and material shackles.
They bond me.
Surround me.
Overwhelm me...
The unresolved burdens have taken residency within my hindered chakras.
My chest is heavy.
The weight distribution of disappointment is sharper than expected.
It eats away at me.
An elusive daily ritual.
Tucked away it remains far from common thought patterns.
Waves of emotion.
The tides roll in.
Upon their migration my muddled secrets and hidden betrayals are uncovered.
Discovered.
The look in your eyes when they fall upon my frailty.
My internal stack of unfiltered, unregistered, and unassured disheveled boxes.
Full of disheveled useless things.
Covered in a thick layer of problems i'm incapable of handling alone.
Alone.
It sits unaltered and ever growing.
The piles.
The filth.
The remnants of what should have been happiness.
It all falls into misplaced sediments.
I'm a mess.
It's showing.
I'm naked.
This hell.
This murky chamber of unwanted mementos from failed attempts and lost friendships
This dreadful, endless room.
Oh, to live in a home without a storm shelter.
Without room to store unnecessary baggage and all the unclaimed items in my mind.
To find solace in meager living.
All this weight fitting into a backpack.
To minimize my insanity into a carry on.
To leave.
To go.
To be light enough to feel the light.
To escape this cellar.
To live.
To release my self from my own idealogical prison.
To penetrate the bars of fear.
To dig myself out from all the things I never want to speak of.
To be free.
Ahhh, to be free.
To breathe fresh air over molded dust clouds and stale particles.
To touch without needing to rinse my soul clean.
To re-stack, rotate, and Tetris these piles of insecurities.
To break habits
that i've reinterpreted from childhood addictions and failed father figures.
To be better than what i've become.
To set fire to this sham of a lifestyle.
To be reborn in the ashes of this outgrown armor.
To let go.
To make you proud.
To find pride in myself.
To not be embarrassed by my place settings and mismatched knick knacks.
To allow souls into my temple without them stumbling into my isolated lunacy.
To welcome love.
To love.
To love even the darkest crevasses of my being...
I need to renew my license to live.
Overdue and out of line,
My past self has expired.
One step at a time, breathe.
One box at a time, breathe.
One thought at a time, inhale.
One lust at a time, exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Breathe.
Repeat.
Awaken.
Accept.
Change.
Repeat.
