Curse me
with your beauty
with your eyes
make me feel something
even if it is "cursed"

curse me
with your movements
with your hands
make me want something
even if i cant have it

curse me
with your mouth
your words
tell me something
even if it's untrue

curse me
with your existence
with your being
make me love something
even if love never lasts

curse me

Crimson droplets
from deep within
my femininity
whir and purr
     into ripe, full spin
It is my time
        for the moon
to glow at its
            brightest
shine in its fullest
              fervor as I
let myself
be relished by
Mother Earth,
reveling in my
          woman spirit love  
Holding my pen
as a sword,
          I dance into
the dark forest,
arms raised
as if to get closer
to the stars
Yes
          they are calling me
as creativity spills
from my fingers
into the atmosphere
my aura communicates
reverberates
          mystical pulses
into the ether
and while pain creates
little uterine explosions
that bloat
and ache,
         a power trips
through me
that cannot
be faked
mood swings,
cravings for
spice
   and ***
sway my mind
like a sharp,
whitened hex
No point in
claiming inhumanity
      for this
hormonal state
is like a bout
                of temporary insanity
and with all of it
     swirling round
and round
with all of the
attempts at
emotional restraint
in themselves
bound, I am
    without complaint
for this is the ultimate
miracle of our bodies
the ripe potential
          to procreate
(if we are so inclined or destined)
or just be
     enfolded in who we are
we are part of
magnetic earthbeats
as we are part of
                the bliss
                      of stars

he spends days
ambling
following footsteps
he has yet to make
his mind is gone
no thoughts make sense
no words escape his lips
except for random ramblings
and incoherent observations
made from pictures seen inside his head
he searches for pennies
copper bright
to jingle in his pocket
offering a comfort
only he understands
this simple man
with simple needs
clinging to the belief
that he has a purpose
not knowing or caring
that he is alone.

A man, a movement,
Whose words stung like a Bee,
But had the masses floating to him,
When he spoke about peace,
He shook up the World like he said he would,
And twisted our perceptions of what it meant to be a true hero,
And for that we thank you.