You have scorched me
With scalding words
And a scorching glare.
The humiliation was like
An inferno had sparked in
My chest and then spread
To consume my body and soul.

I was too scared to move.
It hurt to think.

But like the Phoenix,
I will rise again.

My tongue will be like a sword-
Painfully beautiful,
Swift and sharp.

You will marvel
You will wonder
You will be proven wrong.

Your words are fire,
I am celestial bronze.

Come now,
Purify me.

As she swirls in the air
She holds dear what she took
Sunlight glinting in her hair
Clutching to her chest the leather bound book
Awaiting the monster to rise to her lair
As he comes to ***** her life,
Intent on his prize
Beneath cool waters he shall hide
Until it is the time
When into her dying eyes
He shall look.

Your set sky on fire
With A Phoenix feather
The sky would end
We would burn together

I can't do anything
But watch the sky at night
The fire was burning so much
Like day it is bright

You all would burn the sky
But i won't be doing the same
Confined in your pleasures
You got too close to the flame

The night would be burning
I will try to cover my eyes
Even the darkness would be afraid
If the sky fell, you all will die

I wanted to reach the heaven
And hear my sky fly
But my ears tremble
As i hear my lovely sky cry

I can feel sky is sad
I hear her every scream
This is the reality of humans
I couldn't have thought even in my dreams

Humans are bad
They smile watching sky in pain
I wish with all my heart
Their intention fail and comes so ferocious rain

I suppose I might have hoped
That we would bloom from nothing
Like a phoenix does from ash;
Wild imagination
Might be to blame, or perhaps
A heart- a flaming heart, filled
Of dreams that you encompass;
False memories of laughter,
Embraces, adventure, love...
I hoped for what I believed
But like a phoenix, such thought
Could only be true in dreams;
There is not much magic left
In the dimming eyes of Earth,
But if any is to spare,
Spare me the pain of letting
*Go.

We live in times of innovation.
Winds of change affront the nation;
wind most welcome – by a few
(the masses know not what to do
with engineered progressive change,
their morals slow to rearrange).
And thus, in ornithology
we find an apt analogy…

Phoenix-like the vulture rose
in rainbow raiment, from repose
Its plumage all askew – a freak:
a mutant with a painted beak
borne of winds but lately blown.
This strange new hybrid (yet unflown)
did twitter forth an avian boon.
It preened its plumes and croaked a tune:

“I represent that rarest fowl,
far wiser than outmoded owl…
A dazzling swan of change am I
brought forth to liberate the sky!”

(Yet more appeared a fractured emu;
fair is fowl post-op… they tried to
cross said emu with an ostrich!
(What the hell – the surgeon got rich
changing apples into – mangos;
altering the twos to tangos…)

Fresh from gender suicide
he moulted into she. Beside
herself (itself?) with grief, regarded
previous selves as false: discarded
Sir for Madam overnight;
fixed it, mixed it, made it right.
Since God was wrong the first time ‘round,
Man (or something) thus is bound
hormonally to tweak and mutate,
hastening rebirth’s freakish due-date.

A manly bass – and yet the face
was poorly paired in his/her case
Soprano ought to have resounded –
yet the voice left one confounded.

Rainbow bracelets notwithstanding
this was clearly modern branding
(on the forehead – like a beast?)
well, Jesus said the truth at least:
that angels are of neither gender
(hence no need to check the member.)

Lest we offend endangered species
I commend transgendered theses –
paired with warning and a fable
as they turn the feathered table:

We may nurture fair to foul
while nature shrieks a hideous howl
but foul to fair cannot return;
thus trapped, both Eve and Adam burn.

She had learned to spread her wings all by herself.
She was born from the ashes of her broken soul.
She was all alone, left out to fend off on her own.
But she survived, because the fire inside, burned brighter than the fire outside.

I once ended up
in the middle of Arizona
with nothing but a single cigarette
and a couple mints.
No phone, no money,
not even any shoes.
This one guy on a motorcycle
pulled over to the side of the road
where I stood, lost,
gave me a funny look
and then took off again.
I don't remember how I got there,
but the next morning I woke up in Phoenix
outside a gas station with
50 dollars in my pocket and a slip
of paper that read:
"keep it up, honey" on one side,
and a phone number on the other.
I never called.
I never even wondered
who had written it.