I have something to say
Like the shell
That finds its destiny
As a conch
From the depths of the sea
The fisherman
Collects it
It reaches the coast
Lifeless but
Thankful to him
To put its mortal
Remains to
Sacred use
It is polished
Processed
Put through acid and
Hot oil
It gains some
Precious value
Now it reaches
The hands
Of the skillful
Carver
Who decorates
It with
Strands of valued
Sacred imagination
Such are its designs
Now
A dealer is his
Next destination
He sees it
And purchases
And puts it
In a place of pride
In his shop
On display!
Now if
Some desirous
Eyes fall
On it
Its sure to be
Taken to
A shrine
Temple or home
And find
The joyous blowing
In the air which
Rushing, passes
Vibrating
With the
Joyous energy
Of its devoted blower!
It is considered
To purify the
Surroundings!
Its so valuable!
So the conch
Feels thankful
To each one
Who helped it
To reach here
In its
Journey!
So do I
Say
A thank you
To all those
Whom I
Do forget to say!

Walking in a room or strutting down the street

                 Inside a tunnel of ignorance she steps or takes a seat

She feels the hungry glances devouring her soul

       Pray that the gist of her laugh remains whole

Follow those hands running along the thin hair

                 Blushing as the gesture burns down in a flare

(Women are to be conquered

                 And you can take her with a gentle smile

She will drop all her defences

                 On her knees to please your diguise.)

she reads books and she plays music
the cute, innocent
clumsy girl
with freckles on her cheeks

you like to read and listen to music
the cool, handsome
sweet-talking man
who likes freckles on her cheeks

[ or at least you said you did ]

she rolls her eyes at your compliments
the cautious, bright
guarded girl
with curiosity in her eyes

you lay them on thick
the certain, sharp
imprudent man
with hidden agendas on your lips

she lingers a little longer
in hopes of crossing your path throughout the day

she laughs at your jokes
and you know they're not funny

she sings for you in the car because
you like her voice

[ or at least you said you did ]

she's become good at excuses
the hopeful, naive
kind-hearted girl
with sureness in her words

you soak them up
the stark, ill-intentioned
vacant boy
with uncertainty in your voice

she gave all she had to care for you,
the smooth, clever
self-serving boy

you convinced her that you loved her

[ or at least you said you did ]

Not the attraction a boy of ten
has for his peers
he was not even among
the intimate friends
yet a kind of lust I felt
when he was around
a flutter and denser breath
and in his absence
paling of all else.

That early seeding
was a hushed gust
blowing awhile in the ravine of
deep south.

Pretty girls emerged from the dust
and the first man in me
grew out of first love.

the fear of the future,
devours me
it eats me whole,
and shows me no mercy

I lie awake at night,
the moonlight softly showing
through my blinds,
and am stirred by the thought
of the future

when I come out to my family,
what will happen?

will they try to beat it out of me,
will they kick me to the curb,
or will they stand by my side,
waving a flag in pride?

what will the future hold?