Rudyard Kipling wrote White man's burden In retaliation someone wrote Black man's burden Another wrote Brown man's burden No one wrote White, black, brown Women's burden My average intelligence My average conclusion There was no need Draw comparison Each and every woman Same burden! Imperialism, colonialism Democracy, communism It's the same Everywhere, in every condition!
Upon a misty mountain top Beneath a hollow stone Beside the trees and rivers In oceans dark and cold In shining day and blackest night In elderly and newborn alike There is but one essential thing That nameless one that brings us in And if the minds of men should fail Our paltry castles sieged or scaled No razing or embracing could ***** out this, our spiritual sail
Like a collapsing tool who’s pieces are smaller tools Making other tools, made of smaller ones Spiraling out ad infinum Spreading out past their nonexistant boundaries until there becomes a faint orange glow.. All over. And over again. Until it’s gathered to assignment all presence Then it turns into a tool of tools, over defined and sparingly malignant. Over turning on itself and holding grudges Striking insets of childish nature While springs and leaves hold their settings Meta morphosis exhausting possibilities in a lovely fashion Crisp dews and inner faerie gather A collection of fierce love helping itself to every serving with little consequence
He'll come back He always does Finding his way back into your bones that carried him for so long Returning to your blood, leaving it burning and cold at the same time And even your hips will remember his hands, as they reach up towards them Whilst your stomach will feel the exact same revolting butterflies as it used to
You'll find him everywhere You'll see him in your words, the ones he taught you to say In your chest, when it's getting harder to breath You'll even taste him in your mouth from when you breathed him From when you let him get into every inch of you And now he'll always come back Not for you, but he'll always come back
you said our spirits search for ones we've known before yours must remember mine your soul returned for more
a piece of you is a part of me my soul is cut into smithereens prism of possibilities
but I wake up alone and free after dreaming you were next to me but freedom is not as it seems you touch the very heart of me
but I wake up alone and cold shivering in silence frozen on my own until you lie down next to me
you said the mountains are your innermost home with you, I no longer feel the need to roam
your eyes are the evergreens, the winter pines the flecks of golden yellow color the road signs the smoky fog that rises and lifts my spirit high your spirit is the mountain that lifts me to the sky
I would follow you if you just had to go I would come with you and make that place my own but for as long as I know your love and your restful soul I am a little piece of everywhere connected to the whole.