If there is something
we all have in common,
it is that we are in love
with the stars.
We strive to reach them,
wish to be them,
and love to admire them.
When we find out that many
of the stars we are seeing,
are actually no longer there,
we refuse to believe it.
Like a widow with her
long-lost husband,
we imagine them alive
and well.
We project our ideals
and base our goals
off of these beautiful,
beautiful corpses
that we call stars.

Julie was a winner.

Her eyes were made of stars
that had fallen off the sky
and they twinkled every time
she smiled.

She had dreams, and ambitions,
she did not ride on high horses,
she did not trust the words of great men,
but followed her own sense of direction.

She loved life,
and a boy who never could understand
what love actually meant.

Like flowers in spring,
her madness grew in vivid colors
and she could feel the surge
in her veins.

She was a like a flower.

And like a flower in the fall,
today was the day,
she decided to die.

She took a deep breath,
and drowned herself in cold lavender-scented bathwater,
falling into the forgotten forevers
to lie quietly, finally complete.

Julie wasn't a lie,
she was just me.

From the elements that dance around us, I gather this and more,
a desire to be one with them, in ways one can't fully discern.
A meteorite had fallen in love with me, I am the fire raging inside her,
no evidence one has, how inner fire changes, till it happens!
Look at that distant star, does it speak? But, I know she loves me for ions.
One will better understand, if one lends ears to the tune of nature.
The wind booms its love, caresses the desire, let it grow in to a fire,
we are energies in dance, love and longing disguised, that take many forms.

she  is
          an eagle on the wing,
he is
          the wind on whose carpet she is buoyant;
they both depend on each other's might
to be together, they are conscious,
a little too much.
The higher she goes
she is beyond his ken,
the more he holds
her powerful wings down,
to control and limit,
she is more than a captive,
without her true expression.
They are
passionate lovers,
unaware of making
each other dependent,
and believe
they are in a perfect relationship.
When would they learn,
to make freedom their
true and trusted friend.

Did we then sit beside Zeus and talk of men
was Hera there,when we talked of
the ****** Artemis,who with a kiss to thrill, for a kiss to ****,for a fire that Hestia lit upon the mountain top.
While Iris painted colours on the rainbow bright,Persephone and Hades lived a permanent night in their underworld,where all mankind would fear to go,
and Aphrodite trod lightly among the strewn flowers of love, with beauty and the wisdom of Athena
I wish I'd seen her face.
Apollo painted her **** on the bed and Ares went to war with that picture in his head and all the Gods said,
'what is but a wonderful sight,that we see our good people being slain in the night',for the old Gods were callous and jealous to a fault,thinking nothing of sending a lightning bolt to destroy what man made.
Neptune and Poseidon had tried to be nice but with water in their veins that ran cold as ice,they gave up and went home to the sea,saying,
'the mountain is no place to be for us seafaring deity,and with duty being done at the set of the sun and when the moon  crooned slowly against the still of the sky,
the Gods slept.

My body is made up of tiny building blocks
stacked together tightly by those who don't want to see me fall.
But my mind sings words that my heart is too afraid to hear
and as I start to sway, the wind hums
with the rhythm that my mind is playing
my blocks shake and the ones who built me try to silence the music
by shoving magic pills down my throat like I'm some fairy tale.
Late at night when the world sleeps,
my music plays softly through the iron bars in which it is caged in.
I start to dance again and I am finally myself.
But my music is nails on a chalk board.
Angry now, rattling my bones
The blocks fall out of place
with every movement and I feel alive.
I remove my blocks one by one
and I lose myself
My music no longer sounds beautiful
because nothing is beautiful anymore
as my body crumbles
and I realize that my dream,
my paradise,
was a nightmare.