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Even in the dark clings meaning
“It’s all futile,” is all she’ll tell me
But she’s still floundering
Along this midnight coastline
What we perceive is so unreal
Fragmented realities
We fill the blanks, all unknowing
That we create our own cells
I wish she heard me the way
I imagine myself heard
This is all but impossible

Blessings fall from unknown lands
She tore down these stubborn walls
To wake me from depthless dream
I breathe deeply of her scent
And so bittersweet savor this
Breath of sea mist and beggar’s grave
She speaks novels with silken touch
The danger lies in returning back
Staying thoughts of easy death
The temptation seems so clear
She resists and trudges on

I let her once again flee
Thinking it a diversion
But never from my window
Shall I see the shore again
She visits still, sporadically
I recount my doubtful suffering
She nods as if she understands
But they took her tongue and hands
The grief in me comes naturally
As I begin to weave a tale  
To feed the future my lies
Please understand,
There will not be a place and there will not be a time,
There will only ever be a here and now.

You must understand-
There will be a breakthrough,
You will have a dawn.

I understand,
you cannot see your breakthrough-
You probably don’t feel your dawn,
but one is waiting.

Could you understand?
You can make your future happen,
and you will be able to fix your problems?

We can understand,
You might not be happy,
You might feel like crying,
But we can help you through this.

Will you understand,
Without you there will be no end,
Without you there will be no help?

I beg you to understand,
Because if you cannot live through,
I have no hope to survive.
I beleaguer myself as I brood
my inconsequential
narcissistic fantasies
Some people's career
Others' human connection
Others' addiction
Given the choice, I'd
Rather wallow in fire
Than break a friend's heart
I once accidentally made someone said, by miscommunication. This is how I feel about that.
breath word worship;
angel chant

-----

our          you
us   and  you
we           you

-----

let the sweat
seep,
listen
kiss
worship
the wild day.

-----

brilliant
bellow
woman

delicate
summer
woman

caram­el
rhythm
concrete

magic
beat

lazy
beat

song
dance

most
free
­
-----

one two
two one.
porcelain smooth,
be surrounded in love.
I am only me
thinking, smiling,
softly whispering of
angels breathing to
your sleeping face.
Collection of little poems I've put together using those magnetic poetry word kits.  I have fun playing with the words and some times come up with neat images or rhythms even if the poems don't always make sense.
Graffiti, Graffiti, Graffiti
Being bled onto
The landscapes between thighs

Incarcerating women's wombs
Justifying men's genes
Foreigners appropriating
Women's and men's sexualities

Losing the power to be
When changing our roles' long overdue
Gendering our words and attitudes

Man, who taught you to be a chauvinist!
Woman, who taught you to be a *******?
Don't put your god in gendered bigotry

Do man's emotions feminize him?
When will women freely carry torches!

What gender do you assign this voice?
What gender do you assign this words?
Will the masses even understand these choices?

Don't worry, my sexuality won't infect you
Criminalizing sexuality
Placing it front and center, implying that's all I am

Graffiti, Graffiti, Graffiti
Being bled onto
The landscapes between thighs

Graffiti, defiling the masses not high classes
Because men and women of society
Full of stride, take pride, in their gendered hyde

Graffiti, defiling the masses not high classes
Ignored hoods, barrios, countrysides, ghettos, projects
Devouring women's and men's bodies

Younger and younger people falling to ***/AIDS and STDS
Vaginas receiving the violence, wombs bringing misery
LGBT youth ****** into fire
Lost males (in mental chains) ****** to assert their manhoods

Graffiti, Graffiti, Graffiti
Full of dangerous chemicals, being sprayed onto
The landscapes between thighs
Attempting to legislate our stories, without warrant
January 29, 2013
remembering something lovely
remembering a dream
I fall into myself, I fall out again
I get so lost, so empty
and when my eyes open up
I am just a loose,
simple image of myself
just a pretty little doll
that walks and speaks simply
I awake, dress, eat, deliver
I drink, speak, break, sleep
it is so lovely, I forget to stop
and so like clockwork I am running
and I fall into and out of step
my own footprints
little trails of little patterns
the acceptance
of her capacity
to love you
cannot be contingent
upon her desire
to spit or swallow

— The End —