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I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.

I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand--
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.
We rise
only to fall
angels
gone to ground
in the sweet loam

honor the bones
let silt become
the raw clay
to re-form
our souls
We fail, we fall, we learn, and are reborn...
You are an artifact, chiseled alabaster,
       I am just molded plaster of Paris,
You remain rich shiny white,
      irrespective of seasonal changes,
I need frequent  involvement of hands
      that know their craft well,
to be seen as an object of art, that barely survives,
    but still brittle, would easily turn to dust.
Men and women are different, inside out
    I was told, I see it myself now and delighted!
Over and over again I ask you to be aware of
      the limitations that tie me down and forgive
but you won't accept, go on with your life quietly
       caring so much to keep my sinking heart buoyant.
In dead earnest,
she tries to raise hell,
put on an act
as best as she can,
forgetting altogether
she still is a greenhorn
in such matters, though
graduated to be his bride
from a lover for so long
underprivileged all the while,
grabbing the very first chance
after the new found privilege.

He watches her goof up
inexperience in evidence,
out of the corner of his eye
does nothing but conceals his smile;
caught in the act, her perplexity
gives her up, that was the best part
of the act: the bride's belligerence.
An egregious, chained beast
lurks within the demure beauty,
something dark he reared within
perhaps a savage, recalcitrant,
quite ill at ease in the presence of her pet
wakes it up, viciously poses challenge,
beauty sedated, mute, closes eyes,at such times,
falls in to a fitful hibernation,
    allowing  both the brutes, to slug it out
till one of the two is overpowered
and roar of the other, the victorious is heard.
The torture chamber painted
thick with red, white and black
fully contains artifacts different
unimaginable kind each one is.

Pain indeed was the tap root
from which art sprouts, says the poet
all the secrets of the heart, hidden deep
for which a heavy price is paid
throughout life, sing and dance
spin a fine yarn, tell an unforgettable tale
Ability to feel the pain and sympathize, distinguishes
the DNA of art of any kind, elevates it to the plane of sublime.
Have you lately realized
How much self absorbed
Heterosexual amorphous
Hominem ad narcissists
Love their oneorientation
Love their self esteem pen
Love their uncanny purse
Love their rightful rituals

They abide to admiration
They wear polite persona
They share unrelentlessly
They know salt and peppa

Immortal talent n'crowd
Inspiring dear friend days
Interrupting pink panther
Integrity by wild abandon.
Wanted to write fluently
About million worlds
With beautiful wovs.

I couldn't.
There's a dark pressure
In gloom. Doomed mind.

They do. Me.

I'm transmitting.
Harmonies. Cacophony.
Endless caches.
Smitten And Written by
ImpeccableSpacePoetess
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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