Write about the Sky
                       how it shines
Write about the Ocean
                         and all its tides

Write about Pain
         Write about Belief
Write about Love
         And how It's Received

Write about Friends
          Write about Trends

Write about Healing
           Write about the Feeling

Write about the Cosmo
       Write about Speed
             Write about Trees
                  Write about Greed

Write about Memory and how it serves
Write about Honor and what it deserves

Write it once
              Write it again
                          Save the draft &
                                    label The End

ive worn a brand my entire life
that’s been
stamped across my forehead.

i believe that
everyone can see it,
painted red with little girl blood.

all my life people have taken chunks
from me, and all my life,
i’ve given people chunks.

i believe that maybe if i were different
i would be perfect.
im cruel, and im sorry.

i collect stamps
not the mail kind
not the male kind
not the may hill kind
not the mayo ill kind
not the may hue kind
not the maim yew kind
not the mwaya view kind
not the mwayam myeil kind
not the amaway yilovski kind
not the mynsigwi malomisten kind
snot snee smail skind
rot tree trail rind
trotsky braille grind
hot bree hail's tine
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
­kind
mail
mali
alim
liam
ailm
ailm
ailm

Their obsession to conquer.
Their ancient desire to subdue.
They utilize every opportunity;
And stamp me with their shoe.

A fact they should have known.
Long ago I lost all my ******.
With the passage of time.
I have turned into dead dust.

Calmness is all what I needed.
Only if they had left me alone.
Like dust I would settled down.
Without force subdued on my own.

However, they stamp me repeatedly.
Big-chested, Arrogant guys!
But the more they stamp me,
The more like dust I rise.

Enveloped by mixed emotions
Just put a stamp on me and mail me out
Maybe not

I kissed someone in the night,
Then woke to moan my plight,
No one to sing my song with me,
But contentment soon the object of my sight,
The Maker is my might,
Who better to sing in harmony?
Than the one who gave to me?
The melody of soul.
He sweeps the stars in dulcet patterns,
And creams the clouds for frosting,
He bends the eyelash and reddens lips,
Adds all the sweetness to make our hearts dip,
Forward and fall in love with his own stamp of beauty.
The Stamper is the most beautiful;
No crafted canyon, or molded man can compare to the Maker of it all,
For he only takes what is his and gives it out like candy,
To the mouths of all his children, unaware of his hand.
I want to be aware, to see indescribable things,
To watch with inner eyes what few else have seen,
To hear a song of a different dimension,
Lovely amidst dissension, and run towards that which can,
Really, give me what I want,
Give me what I need.

You licked your lips
I lip synced to you
you licked your stamp
I felt I might be cornered
you stamped your gift
I'm stuck on you
we got stuck in
strokes
smoothing down
you stamped your mark on me
delivered
lips to lips
striking
we stuck to it
no
we aren't stuck with it
but on each other
tampering
peeling off
licking our lips