Your average human body has hair, a head, arms, legs, a torso, hands and feet, eyes, ears, a brain and heart...

But if my body is made of music, are my arms mallets? Are my legs the legs of a piano?

Is my heart the drum that my feet will always follow? The metronome that my body will always follow?

Is my DNA coded in sheet music?

Are my hands the baton? Are my fingers the keys? Is my spine a xylophone, each vertebrae a singular key?

Fact: The average human body will eventually narrow down to only 207 bones. Are my 207 bones each a separate instrument? All part of the orchestral body,

--This STAGE!

If they say music never dies, do I die?

Does my soul live on generations after I am gone? Will people still remember me?

If my body is made of music...

Will you still listen?
Even if the song is over?

My friends like to make jokes about how I only date guys that look gay
Don't laugh, because it's partially true
I like long hair,
That's probably problem number one,
But I just want something to run my fingers through, something to braid when I'm bored

It's also probably because I fall in love with musicians
My ideal man is Roger from Rent
A guitar playing, napkin lyric writing heroine addict
Yes, I fell in love with him when I was 12
Sweet addiction,
Cigarettes and leather were always my thing

How horrible the plot
the hem, the haw
of the incessantly violent
torture ****
   How sad the politic
the row, the scorn
the media howl, the noise
the storm
           We are drifting in a sea
         of bobble head puppets
         backstabbing, mass murdering
         mask-faced tyrants
         and we are loosing the battle
         before it's even begun
            So go ahead now
         and trade in your votes
         sell off your rights
         buy a backfiring gun
            Because nothing is worse
         than trying to reverse evolution
         and you can't crawl back
         into the womb of your Mother
         once you've destroyed
         the primordial ooze
         of creation's lubrication
         for a dollar and a cheapened dream's
         inflation

"A flea has smaller fleas that on him prey, and these have smaller still to bite em , and so proceed as infinitum" ~ johnathon swift!

~  ♢  ~

this touch
of your hair
brings me
there~
a glimpse a
sense
the recipe
of you
    
this taste~
your dna
quilt~
threads of
woven
chemistry

the essence
of you~
forever to
descend
into my
deepest
pools
of memory
and dreams...

  ~  ♢  ~

Copyright © 2016. Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved

The process of creation
Instant in a flash of light through the spoken Word
Or fertilized in the womb
Or sprouting underground
Maybe born of the heavens long ago
Before earth and sun
Born of the stars, exploding into the universe
Or within the volcano
Deep inside the earths core
Born of the waters, the streams and waterfalls
The rich colors of the untouched forest
Initiated in the sounds of night, birdcalls and the occasional howl in moonlight
Sons and daughters of thousand year old oak trees, acorns falling, scattering
Conceived in the deepest and darkest oceans, unaware and uncaring about the mythical surface world
Carried upon by the wind accross the world, currents and pathways charted by the birds and the monarchs
Dandelion child

"I call people creatures sometimes
That may not
Be a good sign"
        -mikecccc*

I can't help but wonder what the writer's trying to convey,
And in my mind I picture one of the creatures who say;
"We're much more like people than humans are anyway,
As proven by Jean Baptiste Pierre Antoine de Monet,
Inheritance played a part in changing human DNA,
Which caused you to view every creature as prey,
So next time you blurt out a line so passé
Remember it's us you're insulting today."
And with that the fair creature returned on it's way,
Whilst the humans returned and lined up for their pay,
Earned from the torn earth and the creatures they slay.

I ask my fellow writer a question if I may;
Was it your intent to insult creatures that day?

Every so often I wake up on top of my own blood
It seeps into the bed sheets where I usually count sheep
It causes a mess
But it comforts me

Because every so often I'm reminded that I am a woman and I have a woman's touch
I'm gentle but fierce
And blood, I've seen so much


Blood is the reason for a motherly touch on a child's scraped knees
A bandage infused with love engrained into the very fibers so deep

And Every so often someone's fingers touch and a bond is formed when one drop of blood kisses the other

And even when a baby leaves it's mother

It it covered in the sweetest pink tint of blood