You have to forget me .
the moment you met me.
You have to forgive me
the moment you kissed me.
You have to escape me.
the moment you touched me.
You have to believe me.
the moment you lost me .
as her ladies paint
her blue blood on her lips
“queens die like this:
with the theatrics
of the crowning ceremony
and the proud negligence
of the morning toilette:
the gods-awful magnificence
of a wrist-flick:
draw me my milk bath,
bring me my venom pills.”
Better to be Pyramus and Thisbe
than god Apollo and Daphne?
As love oft triumphed by envy.
Oh to be Abelard and Heloise
or Juliet you and Romeo me!
Cleopatra, Marc Antony,
Orpheus, and Eurydice!
Martyrs to Cupid, were you wary
of the price to pay? Did you find peace
from Plato’s coined mental disease
in Pluto’s long halls of Hades
or the self induced daily shade of trees?
What of love dooming kin to Achilles?
When Dido and Aeneas meet
is her suicide guaranteed?
Pray tell us, can true love ever be free!
I always look
my most beautiful
when I cry;
the bags under my eyes
burn as poignantly
as waning crescents,
lips plump as they quiver
with the same multitudes
of Artemis' bowstring,
against the tempered
vessel of my soul.
I wear sadness
Like black lipstick.
or short hair.
(Cleopatra's got nothing on me, baby)
My reflection tessellates
against the swell of my tears,
of smouldering thrones
and howling queens--
into images most
strange and terrible.
(But, oh, how I welcome them.)
A delicate curtsy of words
respires from my mouth,
forms upon my tongue
hail thy shattered kingdom
hail thy shattered kingdom
hail thy shattered kingdom.
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Cleopatra, like Caesar my heart concedes
And even though it is only one sided
The hardest quest would be to get you out of my head
Always dedicated to all your needs
Infamy I have bestowed upon myself
The fire burning the hearth of my soul, never dimming
I would give my self to you for your trimming
A romance that you would leave on a shelf
Cleopatra you are the most pure, the most precious
For your happiness I would play the vicious
To be your obsession I would be cottonweed
Wondering if I have truly spoke with you
Could it be that I mirrored myself unto you
Veritably it is not love but only greed
it reminds me of the mid August heat
of his old decaying teeth
it reminds me of the smell of paint
and music that makes me happy
and faint bird chirps
of sumptuous velvet by my bare toes
and icing on cake
of cereal and sunday mornings
and mom’s freckles in the sun
of thunder and lightning
and mattresses pressed against my back
of the gold he embellishes me with
and old recordings on tape
of ee cummings and maya angelou
and a time were it was easier to live, but harder to survive
of Cleopatra and reigning women
of God and answered prayers.
yellow reminds me of elation and euphoria
and a field of sunflowers aching for me to dive in.
Patroclus reflect upon
the same cursed mirror
There's more to this woman
than her passion
In the middle of the Roman empire
And under the Cesar's throne
No one thought of a story bein overblown
As Pompeii lost his wife and hated Cesar
Cesar got betrayed, killed Pompeii
That was common tragic teaser
But what unfolded the truth?
As the words came out of Cleopatra
Cesar ****** and hooked
But that was too mainstream no?
She was just bound to love him
Cuz she had no support for her own
Cesar, killed by politics and forgotten
Anthony his commander
Took the survey and went Egypt often
The women that he ****** had no honor
A devil in form of a *****
Just some good clothes and venal
Anthony put on the Egyptian antimony
Found love in Cleopatra
Left that *****, filled with insanity
Then as he was hated for loving foreign
Octavian lost faith
And headed for killing the fallen
Anthony didn't wanna die as a traitor
Wore the king's robe as dictator
Cleopatra saw that and cried
She bit herself by snake
And later died
Chaperones picked both up
Sat them on their thrones
Romans came and were blown
"I am enough"
She said to the mirror,
Dull eyes gazing back
Her reflection recreating regal
That coming so naturally before, now were cracked
"I am beautiful"
She said, with silver tears
Brimming in her eyes
In the daytime she was Clepatra
Aching for affirmation, filled with ***** lies
Standing in her own presence
No lines so sweetly versed
No role to be rehearsed
Fists clenched, lips tightly pursed
Oh beautiful tragedy! you lost your identity...
the ache is stayed with the plunge of a blade
breaching the chasm which once held your heart