Here come Jupiter child,
You can hear the flowers crying as they plead for her to stay a while,
She just collided with and intergalactic asteroid,
But things were only created never destroyed,
In the dark cool tunnels she found some pretty moon shrooms,
sheltering growing seahorses wrapped in loose water droplet cocoons,
Now towards earth you hear her come,
Within the clouds she beats her tribal drums,
The ocean sways and swells to the time of her rhythm and sound,
Reaching deep into the sea forest to whales traveling homebound,
She wears stars framed in turquoise,
Like the kokopelli she gives birth to planets with grace and poise,
Here comes Jupiter child, dread locks wound with comets,
extracts from the universe, she mixes matter-less tonics,
Recipes rooted deep in wizardry,
she borrows knowledge from indians and aztecs to cure all misery,
Her meteor showers made of her salty tears,
Are earth's dream catcher, snaring all nighttime fears.

How does the moon wax and wane?
Who wrote this recipe, what is their name?
A legendary greek god or goddess,
Shaping the constellations around this lunar bodess?
Creating the mysterious opaque hue,
Is the sun's light, golden and fierce to lovely and blue,
The unique and silent craters and hills,
Brought into existence by lazy asteroids who take a spill,
The moon's fine white pixie dust,
Contributed by comets drawn near with lust,
Its spidery web of fear and adventure that draws us near,
Is woven of used up dreams leaked out of the creatives' ears,
Here are some great wise rocks,
Dumped from a bottomless black hole's treasure box,
Its stately mountains are sweetly refined,
By the artistic alien's touch from another time,
And the reverberating echoes of the valleys, regal as Egyptian tombs,
A secret ingredient: vibrations of the transcendal omnipresent omniscient aum,
The cold still and airless atmosphere,
Was perfectly designed by departed souls with a wish to persevere,
For the moon's body, they borrowed a part of earth,
Promising a silent and knowing angel to guard it after its birth,
And the simple motion itself, the motion that makes the creature wax and wane,
is made of the tireless energy known as Yin and Yang.

if you're lost, hug a tree
if you're scared, hug a tree
if you're alone, hold a dream catcher to your hair
in you're confused, run your voice through the air
if you're hurt, hold a petal to your lips
if you're detached, bring his hands to your hips
if you're in pain, stretch out in the simple sun
if you're apathetic, let her share their fun
if you're stuck, look to the moon
if you're oppressed, leave this dark room.

when you're happy, kiss a flower
when you're in love, tell everyone every hour
when you're exited, blow a dandelion make a wish
when you're creative, move your body like a fish
when you're ready, let the wind teach you to fly
when you're confident, toss your tears to the sky
when you're loved, share the stars you discovered under the rocks,
when you have energy, make puppets out of your old socks
when you're young, sing your made-up songs
when you're adventurous, wear your hair long.

if you're invisible, play hide-and-seek in the snow,
when you want to be found, let me know.

When she hugs him.
She'll snuggle her face into his shoulder,
the safest place to peek at the world, if her eyes weren't closed.
A smile will be on her lips.
And after she presses herself against him,
no space between their puzzle-piece bodies,
her arms, one over his other shoulder fingers wound into the hair at the base of his neck the other climbing up his back hand grasping his shoulder as if its grip were the only thing holding her on this planet fabric of his shirt gathered under her palm,
she'll gently pass her smiling lips along his neck,
to the delicious hollow below his ear,
where his jawline begins,
shallow intake of breath.
Only then will she allow him,
his arms wrapped around her desperate body,
to gently pull her back, one millimeter,
and touch their soft lips together.

His hand lightly floats above her back,
Seeming still to the rest of his moving body,
Tips of fingers gently touch, stroke,
her bare skin.
She dances closer,
They move to her hips fit perfectly along her warm flanks,
hip bones protruding under her thin dress.
Shadows tremble across the ceiling,
together they move bathed in green light,
Red on closed eyes and open mouths from which the sounds crash into music before them,
Yellow illuminated empty bags strung on the wall,
and baby christmas lights flash above their heads.
The shirtless drummer slams the beat, pulsing through the wires out the speakers into waiting ears,
gushing,
like a hose whose knot is suddenly uncoiled,
as his super-sized slushy melts.
Big boots bang the floor,
arms pump,
she wails into the microphone.
Through throngs of laughter, body heat and cigarette smoke outside the door, hidden in the darkness the saturates the parking lot,
hunkers a ***** truck.
Mud splatters like exploded glow sticks.
What are you sitting on?
Bass Nectar throbs into the seats,
is absorbed into the tires,
one window is open a crack.
Inhale. Inhale. Again. Again. Exhale.
Still, through the smoke, and the ***** windshield,
the stars still glow.
Dance with me?
No.
Let me play with your hair.
No.
It's mine.