I’m praying to Stained Glass Windows Here are my prayers I know you can hear You act so clever I’m just trying to mirror No answers to whoever You let Karma handle what you fear Who never seems fair Verses as pictures I’m just tryin to mirror Stained glass stories I cannot see what’s going on outside Stained glass stories I cannot see the truth of the outcome I cannot see what you want me to be Stained glass light color me I see the air through the light freeze I live without knowing I cannot dye without dying The reflection without seeing It’s a beautiful thing I’m praying to stained glass Lord, please believe me The texture ends in the scripture While the textile dresses the style The temerity admits to the scribbling All while I’m overthinking everything I rise and now the world is beneath me The Stained Glass Windows are my ceilings An I’m screaming you can’t handle me
A beautiful smile Radiates the energy of the sun Green eyes fueling the source With the shape of a goddess Oblivious to his truth And unwanting of his intentions What is to be done When there is no control of the situation
My body is incredible Not only do the subtle curves from inch to inch make me feel desired Or the little waist my mothers middle age friends comment on Or the fragile battle scars of a lifetime spent trying.
But the internal haven of complex systems Each of which so cleverly placed. A life source I am my mother and fathers child A founding force of a long full love A miracle Trillions of lives I may have lived Millions of faces I would never had seen Thousands of places I longed to go.
My body is my protector Sheltering me from my worst instincts To carry me through youth with agility And to eventually carry another But that is my choice
You cannot put me or my body in a box You cannot tell me how to live Or choose Throw away your pointless cries of justification I can’t hear you I don’t want to hear you. Why should a government official tell me how to be, who to carry, what to do. My body is a vessel not yet ready for carry.
I need to carry me first Take it a step at a time I don’t love myself yet It takes time Nor do I love my body Appreciation is the word. For now. From the intricate designs of the birth mark on my leg To the S shape scar on my thigh The unanswered scar on my cheek and the moles that cover my arms.
They are mine and no one else’s They can stay as I choose As can it Not he or she or they but it Because it’s my choice
far across the scintillating galaxies, a dying star fulminated, blasting celestial fantasies. then, a pulchritudinous nebula was born and woven constellations she wore.
the moon hung like a chandelier in her eyes, studded with jewels like diamond stars. splendor interstellar dust swathed around her ivory skin, virtue and intelligence she always has from within.
her mellifluous voice sends you to a place full of gentle breeze, where azure firmament embraced few puffies made of cellulose fiber and soft creamy cheese. and with a touch of her fingertips, you’ll see cerulean seas.
she’s someone that you’ll always remember for she makes learning as her adventure. and her euphonious words that shakes your mind and your world.
The morning is so beautiful it’s like a sigh of relief. The morning air is like medicine that is my belief I say this because everything is calm and the sky is so pretty. With reds and pinks and the orange sun, to miss it, would be a pity. I love to hear the birds sing their beautiful songs like nature's melody. To hear it, it’s like a soul restoring remedy. So enjoy the beautiful morning while it lasts. Because before you know it the morning will pass.