Every morning i greet the sun smelling like jasmine and spice
the rays roll through my window
bend nicely and tip their hats only to figure out
that i am a man
and they switch between reaching down to kiss my hand
something they subconsciously planned
ever since that smell of sensual perfume heated up
even the hottest, and the coolest
made them too woozy to stand
they switch to an improvised hand shake
their mother told them not to judge on every
first impression that they make
but they smell my personality
my mannerisms and the way i walk and talk
WAFTED into their nostrils
like some woman dolled up before a date
with no one
to sit alone and say
"** hum"
and wait for the casual wreck of a man to walk in
to punch his time card and clock in
to commit sin upon this woman

but no

their nostrils and their eyes
seem to not agree
on what is
me

i wake up smelling like jasmine and spices
like a woman who spent all night in sin
taking pleasure from her vices
and i waft into every man and womans nostrils

and their eyes say man

their nose says woman so it seems
so they think i must be something in between

when in reality i smell like this because
i spent an entire night in love
with someone i lost the next day
and in our own way she brought her oils
for me to serve and slave her body with
and i wasn't ashamed of it

i spilt the oils all over our bodys they caressed us
and gave every motion an unstoppable velocity
every situation was slippery
and things that shouldnt have been
almost came to be

as we slept the oils clocked out
and slid down our still interlocked bodies and into the bedspread
it opened up its homestead
and buried its dead, started families and grew in number
until the population of the smell was too strong
too strong and the one i shared the smell with
was gone

but i hold that night fondly
i hold it above my head in all its glory
and when i am judged by my scent and called
gay
***
or questioned of my sexuality
i just tell them
i'm being the scent i smelled when i discovered my masculinity
when i tried gender fusion and it didn't quite work
but i covered every other base
i swear my good sir

so ill tell you one thing
i am not an inbetween because i have never joined in the sweet final base
into sweet sexuality
with the opposite *** making man and woman
into man-woman
the in between

what i really mean is i am not what you think of me
i am 100% man until i find the right woman
a beautiful sight in the sunlight
and when night falls and i cant see her at all
i can find even more things i like
to take that from me
and i will give it up gladly

i am a man
as much as any man woman
or man man is
and stereotypes are for those who dont understand
that there IS no difference.

I wished to see the setting sun
before i was to die
linger death before you pry
this setting soul belongs to i
for little time, before my time has come

No one fought against my fiery word
so chilled my burning lips
felt the sting of cracking whips
and blew a gale that smelt of sunken ships
that never quit, his voice i was assured

There he sung, his wind of tongue
that threw me into bitter snow
time limped by forever slow
so i may only stand amid icy woes
fly my soul! back to the fires of young!

Listen to me!

The world agreed and cast
me into flame with sight omit
here frothed my skin, my eyes, in satan's pit
Crying! Begging! embers quit!
Die flame alit! so i may find peace at last!

a sound, extinguished before i gasped
my final taste of air
the flame had ceased, i was spared
but my air! it isn't there!
the dancing flames and i! our needs are shared,
we say aloud, and choke together
upon the nothing we can grasp!

Close your eyes and breathe again

rang the eerie voice of demise
i wanted sight of this pompous man
i'd bring his death with open hands
leave him t rot upon the land
until he descends, i'd rather have the skies

one blink

i took to cloudy wisps
like a pan of rising bread
the noon of sun's light shed
onto my skin which cracked and bled
this is where i had wished to be lead
Stop!
i ask no other gift!

tired but strong, a sign of sorrow
which ceased my ever steady climb
to now be stricken deaf and blind
Please! do not let me die this time
oh sweet divine! i wish a wing to borrow!

and thus i was given messenger wings, to carry messages to the ground
whistling glistening toward the earth
knowing near death new life will birth
my life to me no longer worth it's weighty girth
i wish a pleasant sound

Stop!

and there i stayed my body flayed
an angel stopped my fall
i knew it then to be just a stall
yet i stood there proud and tall
her voice a serenade

she took me to the treetops to slow our steady decline
the leaves silently kissing our tender face
every embrace gave me another lucid taste
of life in which was not a race
our fingers spaced, but we float together in time

serenade me with gentle tongue, the one i cannot comprehend
life is not meant to be understood, only experienced before you find it's end
i did not understand the words you spoke, but they were beautiful in another land
one drenched with sand, to dry inevitable tears of sorrow.

I don't remember the first song  ever made
I was not there to taste the sweet marmalade
dripping to this earth like rain in September
when it rained out from the afterbirth of
The first clever musical endeavor.
It was not i.
I was not the first to sit back
And rap my knuckles
Or tap my feet to the sweet rhythm
Of chirping cricket orchestrals
All written on the spot and never
Even thought about again. Like secrets
Carried to the grave of every short lived section
Of six legged minstrels.
It wasn't you either.
Just like you weren't the first to be inspired
By a cone spiders spiraling spire
Of a trap set for all music makers.
I was not the first to hear the melody
But if I could've been,
I probably wouldn't have taken it to memory
Or woken from my revelries
Because not everything new to me
Is the most beautiful flower you'd ever see.
But I could never rouse a lie like one that states
I wouldn't hum it off handedly later when
The sun went to wake the other side of the world.
And the orchestra whirled and settled into their
Whittled orchestra seats.
I wish I was there.
I wish I was the one who first
Was stricken speechless amid giving countless speeches when they first heard a cricket chirp in time with a meadowlark.
and Sparks danced amid the silence,
Too humble to adhere a single silhouette of sound
or even hint at the presence of an audience.
The sound wasn't meant to have applause
Or be critiqued of its brilliance.
Because it was the beginning
Of the resilience of the never ending sound we call
Music.