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I was just a kid back when tapes were put in slow
Back when my uncles cancer let me know...
that dull aching pain can sing pretty...and pretty can cry
when Jagger whispered truths even a 4 year old girl
couldn't deny
From wild horses to tattoo you
I learned what the broken boys do
Oh, the rolling stones
I am forever bound to you....
childhood living was easy to do with you around
my voice was laced with micks magic....
Im all very real you see...and up my sleeves
nothing but a good heart, no cheap trick

Wild horses...running inside me
******* heart beats like a drum
raised by riffs so I ain't ever numb
The songs were my uncles gifts to me
Now those wild horses tear through my heart and
I truly see

start me up was more than a spark
It lit up the corners of my dark
Yeah, I grew up to Tattoo You
Rolling Stone blooded and always true
If you listen close you’ll see
Those wild horses still run free
in me
blue crying crystals
live behind my brown eyed vessels
seeing is a curse
but pain can be a thrill

the leaves had barely fallen
when god took you home...you said it was your calling
October 14th...the coldest light
the day I found out
that I lost you
to the dark soul of the night

the drugs crept into your good heart.. a wealthy girls shadow...
appealing and slow
took your voice...took your angel glow
but as you were falling in your dream,
you still
lifted me

they said you were gone... but I didn't believe
you were the ghost in my mirror, I know you also did see
you were the wild in every room, oh your sweet perfume
no one but me saw how deep you bled
The battles that lived inside your head

I tried to hold you, I tried so hard
But your family slipped away like a falling star
Still, I feel you wrap around my spine
Telling me softly
Im your favorite and you're still mine
i was only two shadows then
of knowing...
only a child...and a future woman
when the quintessential sky
broke open
I danced in its sun and its lie....
no awareness that war had begun under my very ground
The sky was too blue to mean harm to me..
but I saw people fainting...and I heard the angel of death's sound
I watched both castles turn into flame
No one explained what death looked like
So I stared right into the light

by evening, Dad rounded up the town
to pray for the fallen...
but I didn’t understand it...
just watched the candles flicker in my hand
I didn't know I'd be one day
a woman, slipping through
her own grief like slow moving sand

The night was thick with my whisper
words I couldn’t yet hold..
but the light pulled me forward
a gentle magic
when the world turned cold

the towers knew me
I leaned against their windows
like stained glass in a cathedral
first time I ever felt fear
bet you, you could hear late 90s twin towers life, two haunting sears
if you put my heart
to your ear

my city split like a libras night veil.
And the air
the sacred air
turned black with souls
and I burned the incense in my soul...
they were trying to stay
a little bit longer
inside someone
inside a 9 year old girl.

They are in me still.
I carry them in the caves of my lungs,
in the red Hudson river of my blood
They speak in my dreams
not with fear
but with flame.
I think they want me to carry their name
and live
for them

No one told me
that a child could become
a reliquary
of angels

I carry their smoke and their ashes in my heart
Dreams were glass windows and the glass was breaking
Angels wept.. and gods were shaking
I watched the sunlight turn into haze
And wandered like a puppet
through those firelit days

day one day two day 42
i breathed in their...ashes
and I wear them inside
the locket in my heart

new york girl...
will always know the dark
and she will never stop weeping

No one told me
that a woman could become
a reliquary
of angels
Dark roast coffee got me spinning around and my hands can't stop shaking...
and for a second, my eyes meet the mirror ....who's that girl...or woman....
with the princess bride frown?
My ex moves like a riverside ghost, no message and no signs...im aching.
left me haunted in the morning
got me trapped in my own mind.....wish I could say all these lessons were free
but oh what a very costly fine....
Men seem to come and go like my grandmothers blue glass ash tray dreams that don't stick
to women like us ..... soft heart and mind quick
who's loving me when the sun starts to set?
cause, I’m still alone in a queens bed..

I want magic, not just smoke
want a touch that don’t feel like a joke
I’m a Gypsy moon spell...
I’m a once in a 500 year storm, I’m the post war heartache and the museum art
If I write it down maybe I won’t fall apart
Give me pleasureable love.... give me truth for breakfast
Chocolate lips...morning sunken sea eyes
I’m reckless
its all my fault
Cause I needed to eat, im a poetess
For me to write, I need to die

Scroll past my pain....no one even sees
A message left on read like I’m just September 11th debris
Don’t need your answers... might not even need your love
I need my singing voice
a chance to share it to the world, like a magician I want to release
my white magic dove
I need a pen
Oh the pain. Oh the suffering
Lord, its been enough

I don’t need forever, just something that stays
A pulse in my fathers silence, a spark in my mothers excruciating haze
I’m not too much.... but I'm also way too alive
If you're my knight
Don’t ever dim my shine
just to survive
I got a joan of arc inner fight

I want magic...not just mirrors and smoke
Want a kiss that don’t burn when I choke
I’m a fortune tellers spell, I’m a dying flame
I’m the bone and the break
If I sing it loud, maybe I won't shake
give me pleasurablelove
give me truth for breakfast, that's my true desire
Queen bed dreams, I’m messy, I’m restless
You want water signs
but I'm an Aries
fire

So I write like it's holy, I write because I must turn pain into rhythm
turn meaningless ******* into dust
I want magic ...and I am it
I want love ...and I’ll **** it
until its mine
Joan of arc
My time
is coming
Old man stands alone,
shirt undone,
hair silver and lifting,
the sky begins to split.

The storm enters
not with cruelty,
but with memory,
that deep breath before
the world unbuttons itself.

Thunder cracks like bones once young.
The rain walks sideways,
then vertical,
then all directions.
He does not move.

Was the storm that raised him,
not his father,
not a stiff lipped god behind a pulpit,
but this:
a violent choir of wind and water
tearing through the trees like language
he always understood
but never spoke.

Remembering it in his legs,
how the wind,
long ago,
swept him off roofs,
out of dry judgement,
into open roads and beds and truths.
How lightning never hit him,
but always pointed
and directed.

He once chased it,
barefoot,
drunk on youth and refusal,
beautiful clouds, black and blooming.
giving permission
to crack open,
shake the dullness off the skin
like the last coat of sleep.

Now, old and alone,
he feels it again,
that holy silence between the strikes,
that rush of air through the ribs,
the kind that makes love and sin feel small.

The wind doesn’t ask where he’s been.
The rain doesn’t question strength.
They just take him in,
pulling his bones into a long, level song.

No one watching.
No one shouting him back inside.
Only black clouds
reaching low enough
to press their foreheads to his.

In that communion,
the unspoken pact between man and squall
he closes his eyes,
and lets go
of names, of time, of answers.

Only the storm
knows who he was.
Only the storm
still loves him for it.
As a child, she innocently climbed the branches of her backyard tree...
the mother once reached for the truth in the sky...
But the tree held her in its grasp
And so the woman in white lace
had to climb down
and say goodbye

A glass shattered on the ground
Reflections of a life once whole...
Black stones scattered at her small feet
Vanity's price took its toll...

Oh, the woman in white lace with a conch shell pressed to her ear
wants to listen to the oceans call
But her heart is made of tin
and she can't
hear
she can't hear
True beauty
falling on mermaids deaf ears
her quick to run away fins
icy blue tears

A cry escapes the mothers lips..
A plea for freedom, for release
But the tree's hold is unyielding
Her struggle never ceased

and in the silence of the Ireland night..
sometime's the tree releases its grip
and the mother falls to the ground,
Her spirit begins to lift... a little bit...
but not enough to hear the sound
of..wind and water

The woman in white lace turns around
There's a mirror...and
She knows deep inside,
She wants the truth to be
nearer
for her daughter
But the trees grip
is too strong
So she'll climb down
who says surviving is wrong

And the daughter has to climb up that tree
all alone......
in the dark of night

And the daughter becomes
the woman in white lace
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