It is late, the sky is black slate, coal
a desolate moon glow, cold
this silent world flecked with tiny lights
diffused amid the softness of clouds
the night, only a blooming dawn
a field of stars that come.

Darkness swaddles moonlight,
Bamboo groves sing lullaby,
Love moves the still air.

She tells me about the sun, this late night moon.
Informs me of the infinite number of days to be.
We converse together, this shining white orb and I,
as the stars watch in amused, dangling patterns.
I pray at night, I pray in the day. I always pray.
Does it help? Yes I think it does. It connects me
to the magnificent creator of the sun and moon.

So I stay in conversation with my global friend.
We speak not only of the sun, but of life itself.
Sharing observations on how it all plays out.
This moon, in its wisdom, tells me of infinity.
Of taking a step, even a walk, into ones' destiny.
I wonder at this. I consider it most carefully.
Realizing that I too am making this odd journey.

The moon will depart soon, its turn almost over.
Not to fear! The sun will replace her luminosity.
In fact, were speaking of truth, it shines brighter.
What words shall we share? This sun to come.
I suspect I shall not know until the new daylight.
Not to worry. Not to fret. Everything in the world
happens for a good reason. I do fully believe this.

We shall all be one with the sun and the moon,
when God calls us to our eternal resting places.
I'll join those that have gone before me, and in
freedom be relieved of this human endeavour.
It's hard to live when you're dying. Harder to
live when you're trying to pretend that the
stars up above even know you have existed.

Hi, my name is female.
I might not fold my hands the way she does
Or flip my hair the way that girl does.

Hi, my name is female.
The width and length I am shouldnt define if I'm qualified for Vogue.
The way I lick my lips may not be as attractive as the next female,
How my eyelashes flutter may not appeal to you.

Hi, my name is female and I like mashed potatoes and Thai coconut.
They say “eat less, its prettier. Where this, it shows more.”
Why?
I shouldn't have to balance myself on misleading scales that does nothing but swallow my pride up.

Hi my name is female.
Because one chicken breast is smaller than the other….it's not the same?
Because another person's peach is plumper than mine….its better?  
They're still the same and we should treat them the same.

Words get thrown at us everyday and its expected of us to pick them up and change the way we are.
No.

Hi, my name is female and I shouldn't be talking this way just for a guy.
I shouldn't be crying for this guy,
I shouldn't be kissing up to this guy,
I shouldn't be changing for a guy,
I wasn't made for a guy.

Because I can't reach my toes like the next female, shouldn't mean a thing. Because my palms may ash more or my bones may creek more, shouldn't define how pretty I am.
Her hair may reach her elbows, her hair may touch her neck.
Her skin might love the sun, her skin might hate it.
Its still beautiful.

Hi, my name is female and I like mashed potatoes and Thai coconut.
Just because you may not like it, doesn't mean Its gross or Im repulsive..

One female can say, “I am” while the other girl across the street can say, “I is.”
“No I won't”
Or
“No I ain't”

I can still smile just like the next female,
I can hold a laugh,
Cough,
Sneeze,
Wink,
Eat like the next female.

We're all one conjoined masterpiece.
One cannot make me feel low of myself.
One will not tell me she's better than me.
One will not let me cry my eyes out.

Hi, my name is female and I have a name.
My name defines me.
I am beautiful just like the next girl who likes mashed potatoes and Thai coconut.

Embrace your beauty, honey. You're gonna have it forever.

the sound of his incantations
hung like a fertile cloud in the air
till it became locked in an embrace
with the holy smell of incense bare
and all the while he droned on steadily
like a distant engine upon an incline
the birds of the night spun around him
crazy like a moth willing death to come
the hot wax stuck like glue on his fingernails
as the passion heated up and blew a blast
in the direction of mirthless unseen onlookers
witnesses to a macabre rite in the dead of night
the time for forging ties that bind was well nigh
for what better instrument to weld togetherness
than a grim kind of secrecy in the  dead wilderness

and the moon wraps me in its dust
a cold dust that freezes my sore skin
as the stars twinkle in a warm vigil
over my yearning body ablaze with
the fire of quests still to be satisfied
together the moon and the stars brew
a romance in bloom like wild flowers
starring the open fields with colour
the old moon weeps cheerless songs
    melodies never before heard
by untutored human ears
or played by arthritic fingers
in search of a miraculous cure
as acidic woes from dim pasts and distances **** nascent dreams
stranger than the quirkiest fictional tales
is the story of cold moons in tropical skies
nevertheless i shall lean forever towards that dream
whose promise is a pale shadow of reality