Pale pink petals dipped in blood
surround my yellow crown
  and painstakingly painted stigmata.
A  fragile, fragrant DNA poem
  perfectly expressed.
An immaculate lily – not a failed rose.

Some girls like silver.
Others like gold .

What if the girl.
Who likes silver.
Has never believed she deserves gold.

It's too shiny.
Too bright.
Draws too much attention.

It's golden like the sun.
Yet she wants to hide like the moon.
Just the way girls in silver do.

The girl in gold.
Shines too bright.
The spotlight on her all of the time.
As they say she's too much.

What if the girl in gold and one in silver.
Knew that they were like the sun and moon?

Destined to be seen.
Destined to be heard.

Like the stars aligning and universe shifting.
What if they both knew?
That they deserved to take turns in the light of day too?

I want to move so I do it in silence
2am dance party
empty dead house, electric mind

Maybe one day you'll see my soft underbelly
Maybe I'll always prefer the shell

But, blooming in hope, I whisper
I can wait forever until you're ready
to put opaqueness to your translucent form
In the meantime

Just give me a glass of that sweet ambrosia
and I'll move forever
swaying on the gods' dancefloor

Good deeds don’t go by unnoticed,
just like a daisy,
rose,
or lotus.

I try hard to treat people with kindness,
but seldom rewarded respect or politeness.

Only the sane come back to their senses,
with an act of kindness,
your self-esteem enhances.

I’m never reluctant to lend a hand,
those in need I do understand.

People are born with tempting desires,
Love and compassion,
is what you require.

For all my sins I have remorse,
may God forgive my wicked thoughts.

If I'm to blame for what was done,
in God I trust and not someone.

I thank the lord for all his gifts,
my time on earth had passed so swift.

Those pictures of me
Are disingenuous images

Blurred from the start
The fuzziness has grown over time

I’m told to see myself
Where can I find a true mirror?

Others say the sounds of me
Are clear and eye-opening

I listen for the sounds inside me
Can sounds ring distinct and genuine

Still much static blurs
The best parts of me

I seek to find silence
To settle into solitude

I engage in deeply
Listening to the uttering of my heart

My heart emits a song
Of the genuine me

Hey, have you seen it?
I can’t find it anywhere
I thought I left it with my triumphs
I couldn’t find those either

It might be wedged between my trophies
I hate it when that happens

Or maybe it’s mixed up in my love letters
Or my performance reviews
Or my pay slips

Is it in my CV?

Ah, there it is!  How silly of me

It’s nestled in the neat pile of ballpoint pens, with lids, that write smoothly, first time
It’s in the cutlery drawer with a full complement of teaspoons and forks
It’s among the neatly paired socks, fresh from the line, no sock missing its partner
It’s among the dozen, perfectly iced cupcakes that were just the right size for their box
It’s on the dropped toast that landed honey-side up

And all the other impossible ordinary objects

bask in the divinity of your feminine energy
It cradles you like the light of the moon
Retreat into your soft flesh
feel how it bounces back as you trace gently every curve
How could you have such disgust for
The vessel of your greatness?