In the middle of the night he cried-
arms outstretched wide to his father
who was never really there
and the times when he actually was
the liquor stained lips would reply
with an adaptation of his truth-
"**** it up and be a man".
The boy looked at him with hollowed eyes
and a heavy heart and from that day on
carried a burden upon his shoulders
at the life he thought would treat him well.
But it painted dark skies over his sunset
and brought clouds to the sunniest of the days.
He was born in a world where emotion is never okay-
So the chip upon his shoulder turned into a hole
and eventually made it's way into his heart.
That chip now a disease on his insides
his brain rewired to push everything back,
to swallow his hell whole and to hell if he did
because he knew what this life was doing to him.
His insides turned to stone and he held a stone face.
As his father told him the names of all the men
he should look up to and he left any women off the list.
So as the boy grew old he found himself hiding away
his insides and never showing a hint of emotion
because he knew it would let his father down.
Outside he took his fists and misplaced them
upon four walls-
his arms outstretched around little sister's neck.
Society's genetic defect.

Someone once told me-
men are more likely to commit suicide than women
I thought about this for a while-
Women wake up everyday in fear of dark alleys and street corners
Afraid of men with any address begging to undress them-
We can't walk down the street, any street without worry.
We cannot go into the store without fear painted at our feet
We have become afraid of our own shadows.
This life has built resentment upon our shoulders
ever since the wage gap got less and less
and even now we still have work to do.
But we can't forget that society has painted a picture
of us all and they're nothing close to a self-portrait.
They're more like those fat faced comic illustrations
you get at amusement parks and laugh at
because they look nothing like you.
Us women have been taken advantage of for years-
hiding behind car keys in-between our fingers
and pepper spray on our keychains.
Men have had to hide their pain behind fake smiles
and bank accounts that are supposed to make them feel bigger.
When in reality, we all just end up feeling tiny.
We all feel like the edges of our feet are on top
of years and years of misandry and misogyny-
and although the words feminism encompass feminine
all it's really about is total, complete equality-
so now is the time to treat everyone equally.

I lived at the end of the road.

Lilies, daisies, roses, zinnias, orchids, azaleas, and bellflowers.

Growing at the side of the river in such rich colors.

I lived at the end of the road where no one dared venture.

I lived in that small peeling yellow house, at the end of that long road.

The waves of the ocean
go back and forth,

and I can't help but to think
that that will one day be us,

Going back and forth,
crashing into one another,

until one day the ripples disappear
and get smaller and smaller

and eventually become flat like our friendship

The moon has become a dancer
at this festival of love.
This dance of light,

This sacred blessing,
This divine love,
beckons us
to a world beyond
only lovers can see
with their eyes of fiery passion.

They are the chosen ones
who have surrendered.
Once they were particles of light
now they are the radiant sun.

They have left behind
the world of deceitful games.
They are the privileged lovers
who create a new world
with their eyes of fiery passion.

My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
My tears like vinegar,
Or the bitter blinking yellow
Of an acetic star.

Tonight the caustic wind, love,
Gossips late and soon,
And I wear the wry-faced pucker of
The sour lemon moon.

While like an early summer plum,
Puny, green, and ****,
Droops upon its wizened stem
My lean, unripened heart.

XII. TO HERA (5 lines)

(ll. 1-5) I sing of golden-throned Hera whom Rhea bare.  Queen of
the immortals is she, surpassing all in beauty: she is the sister
and the wife of loud-thundering Zeus, -- the glorious one whom
all the blessed throughout high Olympus reverence and honour even
as Zeus who delights in thunder.

We all have our demons inside of us.

I just happened to swallow the devil.