Whoever swoops into my heart next
please don't make a nest
and then fly away when you're ready to be on your own.
Don't use me as a shelter
to keep you from the drowning rain
and expect me to feed you
when nothing else is living.
It’s hard holding a home sturdy
sufficiently well for my aching soul.
The branches are already trembling
the weeping wind echoing
lost, diminished cries
of the ones who took off.
I know I push you away
when you get too close,
but this is where you fight to hold on longer.
I keep losing the ones I love
because they have not loved me
enough to stay.

What is home?
Home is not literally home to me,
Not the one built with trees and all cozy and warm inside.
Not the place where everyone is welcome,
It is never shared with society.
The music I listen too feels at home,
But wait what is home?
Oh, I just live in a different universe.
No family members there, no friends.
Oh wait, I just don't have no home.

We think it's in the protection:
above, the vast canopy called Sky;
then we want freedom
when pervasive is intrusive
and seek shelter

Searching, we expend lives. Rain
finds a way in, we run seeking new.

We think this is unique,
then neither vast not endless,
but blobs floating in space:
it is in the beauty of illusion; then
disbelieve, hopping bruised on.

Neither in protection nor in freedom
nor in anything other;

Under the canopy again,
up on a hill, until
buried deep somewhere in us,
we see, it was there, all along,
and we grow up.

When your teary storms roll in and you're out in the cold, look over your left shoulder.

My umbrella is wide enough for two, and yields the shelter and comfort you need.

My grandmother's closet is where I found it, smooth pearl handle, ***** petals, with black lace trim.

It smells of women's perfume, the kind you'd wear to a parlor for a "pick me up" drink.

She'd walk and twirl it as she casually made her way to a shaded porch. Waiting for her lover to meet her and summons her forth.

But now, those who cry a river, buckets actually, that yield no return, seek shelter under my useful umbrella.

His words said permanent, his words said stay.
His words described forever, lacing their way through my head and heart.
But in the end he was too free-spirited and transient--
he was just another vagabond seeking shelter in the crevice of my smile.

I have spent many years sheltered by love
Shielded from the world’s villainous beings
Beyond blessed to live a life undreamt-of
Your hands guided mine through ev’ry teaching
Unknown that greed and hatred lingered near
and that money took a devilish form.
All I knew was to put the silver spoon here,
to rise with the sun, butlers by the swarm
You told lies- hid me from reality
The sight of such a place scorches my heart
The devil struts the streets safe from chivalry
Children go unnoticed- lost in the dark
What happened to God? Where are the Angels?
All you told me has put me in danger

Amnesia like leaky faucets swollen drain ventilates vapid powdered portrait
At least smiled.
Blood slightly warmed manicure and smiled in forgotten garden
Such lovely font.  All wanted
Mini clouds surrounding shrines backlit green in ritual.
Smiles speak but of the wet smell of pollen and the sweat collecting in his hand behind the small of her uncrushed spine.

Curing chlamydia the straight—A fairytale.  Conned alive, clumsily and bitter.
Nurtured cotton uprooted attempt.  Scrubbed stains to shreds

Not even the green light merely aftermath so of course when shaking egg shells sheltering in “cold hands warm heart” chests receive the song I sing but never knew