"lionesses" poems
As the glorious LION
Stands strong in stature
Radiating with a presence
Of Absolute rule
The air washed with
A bristly respect
A natural pride
Beams with beauty
He guards the gateway to truth
and only the brave may enter
He is the king that needs no crown
as he holds a royal presence as he
sits in his golden coat and main
Lies spark combust just bounce off
dissolve in all his shine.
As broken men become renewed
Their fractured parts
Collect in the melting ***
Of the Lion's stare
As they are engulfed and swallowed
In the reservoirs of his strength
As the many wounded souls
Find themselves restored
In his majestic presence
As he rattles the very fabric
Of this world
There is no procrastinating belly
Exposed by a lackluster display
No one insults his strength
By creating a make believe world
Or covers him with scaffolding so
That they may alter him
For he is the finished article
And he is never held up or supported
With anyone's emotional ropes or strings
For he no ones puppet
He is never silenced
By the Strangle hold of this world
Tightened with a multitude of gestures
For I hear his ROAR!!!!!!!!
His explosive self expression
As his throat bursts and beams like the sun
Breaking all collars, and his tongue is freed
As a thousand trap doors Open up in him
And boulders are lifted and rocks are shattered
within the sound of his voice.
His Soft pads of silent stealth
Gather for all his wealth
As the power of his pounce
Is governed by both his strength
Of spirit and the honesty
With which he meets the earth
For he owns all of his own pain
And paces and growls to warn
Away any who seek to steal his fresh ****
And diminish him with pretty lies
For he owns all his space
As it feeds his strength
As somewhere in the fury of feasting
Lionesses and Lions
We find our freedom
For his power explodes like a volcano
When his soul meets the earth
As he shakes off all avoidance
To seek only truth
As streaks of white light
And pure Gold glisten in the SUN
As the world's projections
Reflect and bounce off him
There is so much to learn
From a beautiful LION
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
I saw a little lion cub roaming in the wild
romping through the grass a lionesses child
jumping up and down roaming through the shrub
lovely as can be this little lion cub
he was very happy as happy as can be
roaming through the jungle oh so wild and free
some day he will grow and he will have a pride
then he will settle down with his lion bride.
May 30, 2010
May 30, 2010 at 7:30 AM UTC
*Roaming lioness,
Through the plains
Yearning for a mate
Yearning for a pride
In which is gone
No lion in sight,
The lioness softly roars
In emptiness and sadness
Her cries not heard
By a single ear of a lion
She lies softly in the dry beige grass
She wants to give up
It's all she can do
She roars again in frustration
She is the last of her kind,
Why must it come to this?
Last of the lions and lionesses
Killed by careless humans
Last survivor
Last warrioress
Lost hope*
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 2:21 AM UTC
Even lions have the strongest hearts
But they still fall weak to lionesses,
A man’s heart can tighten in all parts
It only takes a ´touch´ to bring him to pieces
When a man falls weak to his world
A part of him has leaped over a wall
The tricky phase is to retrieve his part
Searching the world with an incomplete heart,
The finder of his heart is always his near-God
But finders only leave men in a melting ***
Men are known to be tearless
They don’t cry and in pain they remain fearless,
Men are fragile and sensitive
Listen to him and see the world in his perspective,
Men will live on ‘til the last survivor
Because men are forever…
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 12:40 AM UTC
I saw a little lion cub roaming in the wild
romping through the grass a lionesses child
jumping up and down roaming through the shrub
lovely as can be this little lion cub
he was very happy as happy as can be
roaming through the jungle oh so wild and free
some day he will grow and he will have a pride
then he will settle down with his lion bride.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 9:03 AM UTC
last night i almost
gave up thinking of bronzy brazilian girls
perspiring pure coconut oil, eau de margherita ;
supermodelas eating my dreams like concord grapes, lionesses
lounging on new york balconies, lithe, reading céline.
(esti ginzburg, on the phone, considers another pomeranian) .
almost stopped.
almost derailed strange vogue-like fantasme of irina shayk, standing legs planted
left knee out-thrust and foot
in ebony heel, cocked against the earth.
set being imitation of gloomy coal mine, east of prague. thin arms firmly controlling the
arc of her pickaxe, clothed in leather, high heels;
sheen of sweat holding her feline body in sweet embrace.
imagining that when shift's end buzzer echoes thru the tunnels she smokes a cigarette
on a bench in the women's locker, apple planted on old planking, elbows on her knees.
cover-alls peeled
down to her waist and her hair,
free at last.
(click)
on the tram back into the city all the smoked glass
cartier storefronts pass by like polaroids held in the hand. the same speed.
giggling, 'rina thinks of the six she could place
along her arm; gilt gold, brushed silver, diamant...
there are 11 smoked belmonts by the back steps; i did
little with the night. (tall shadow of a woman in a black dress and my mouth
a cotton ball)
that is to say:
i did almost give up thinking about bronzy braz ilia g rls ,
-
but i didn't/and so there's nothing else.
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 7:14 PM UTC
Lift me up,
let me drift on a tide of rising air.
I am strung below an ******** rush of burning air,
at the mercy of the pilot,
let me ride the sky before I die,
Sprinkle me with pepper dust,
not to make my eyes sore,
but to make me feel alive.
let me feel the sensation of the zephyr cruising past my face.
Enter my vision stage left,
the scene from above looking downwards,
savanna flowing,
rolling out protected and free,
as free as me,
just plain old me,
the lioness in the basket drifts,
she's watching the lioness snaring today's tea.
and so the delicate zebra falls,
as of today, she can run no more.
The lioness in the basket,she sips her tea from an old plastic mug,drifting onward,
regardless.
(C) Livvi
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 4:48 PM UTC
This world is but a graveyard
Of kings and kingdoms
Of philosophers and freemen
Of sacrilegious arrogance
For we live in a vast wasteland
Of prospectors and merchants
Only a few steps from oasis
Battling for a distant mirage
Humans are mere beasts
Like hyenas and lionesses
Fighting for supremacy
In this endless ephemerality
iamthe_avatar ©2016
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 6:45 AM UTC
i wish i wasn't so afraid of my forehead.
afraid i'll brush my bangs just the wrong way and someone will remark
"my god! that girl looks weird with her forehead showing."
afraid like i could change a part of my face.
i guess i could if i was one of those rich ******* on "housewives of ---"
or jwow on jersey shore
i could go shopping for new noses
and larger cheek bones.
like changing a feature of my face will make me more wantable
when it's the crap that comes out of my heart people don't like
instead
i wish i could bare my forehead
stick my middle finger right up there for all to see
but i am afraid of my forehead
what is a forhead?
just a bit of skin
just a little forehead
that is what scares
this redheaded leopard
this is why lionesses hide in kitchens
majestic ************* that should be out there running things
this is why there are no women presidents
because we are afraid of
ourselves
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 6:38 AM UTC
We oughtta consider bringing back
old-fashioned Gladiator Arena combat
as retribution or as a chance at vindication,
depending on how well one performs,
for those who are most deserving:
Those who seek to spill innocent blood or to oppress the masses,
the most corrupt Politicians, Lawmakers, Enforcers and Judges,
overtly violent supposed "'Protectors", such as Soldiers or Police,
the scheming Bankers, that is to say "the House",
deliberately misleading Authority figures,
whether in news or in the world at large:
all the malicious Religious figures,
power hungry Narcissists,
abusive Demagogues,
subversive Tyrants;
if these people have a place,
it's center stage in a Coliseum with little else aside from one another,
their choice of melee weapon and/or shield, some leather armour, and a roaring crowd.
Let's not forget the HD cameras with hyper-telescopic lenses so we can see their faces live in 1080p!
Maybe even add a few hungry Lionesses from time to time
or perhaps some ill-tempered Sharks..
or, a pack of quite irate Wolves.
Our Imagination is truly the Limit!
We could even run ads in between rounds
and sell foam novelty items
and overpriced water
when it's 115 outside.
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 9:31 PM UTC
They call him the King of the Cats,
It’s easy to see why,
He roams with graceful dignity,
And has that look of focus in his eye.
They call him the King of Cats,
With his mane soft and long,
With his pride of lionesses,
He knows just exactly where he belongs.
They call him the King of Cats,
The plains are his homeland,
He fears the human intrusion,
Standing in the sun; looking proud and grand.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 6:22 AM UTC
You’re constructed out of the same elements
That stars and lionesses and
Even your sister wolves are.
Through your heart pumps star poison!
The very iron in your capillaries
Would destroy something
As extraordinary and enormous as a star.
Your organs are padded with the same
Water that used to carve away
Amazing things like the Grand Canyon,
Your insides are bursting with water
From dissolving meteors- from deeper in space than you know.
Your bones can survive tornadoes,
Hurricanes,
Massive disasters-
And you’re still pulling out your hair and
Tearing at your skin?
You may feel like you have nothing
Left inside your core,
But your heart is still beating, isn’t it?
Your lungs still intake oxygen-
Adept in fueling fires to level entire forests-
Even though all we are is
Carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, iron, and phosphorous.
But men still charge into collapsing fireballs
And mothers still hold their crying children
And clouds still hang in the stratosphere and
You can still make it through this
Because every day is something new.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
They walk—no, more likely, they saunter,
Embassy functionaries, associate profs at G-Dub,
A smorgasbord of polka dots and vitae,
Leopard-print and Linkedin pages,
Sufficent and necessary in their presents and futures.
I occupy a bench in my own shambling manner,
Denim-clad most days,
Perhaps affecting a less humble khaki
If I am feeling particularly grandiloquent,
Redeployed here from more rough-and-tumble of more avenues,
Among the bar-and-concrete hosteled llamas and coyotes
(Probably closer kin, if one is being honest)
Simply an ornamental thing, overgrown garden gnome
Or bowdlerized lawn jockey, unobtrusive and unnoticed
By those who would coo at the macaos and mandarin ducks
Or shudder at the offal left uneaten by black bears and maned wolves.
And so such days proceed, from my convenience-store coffee arrival
To such time that something approximating dinner
Must be conjured or cadged from somewhere,
My thoughts tend to stray not to the lionesses
Nor sleek Catwoman-esque jaguars,
But to the unpretentious turkey vultures of the fields of my youth,
Circling warily, inexorably in threes and fours above
And I know there is neither ennobling nor annihilation to find here,
No outcome but to simply await.
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 9:36 AM UTC
Black widows drink white wine.
Magnetic lionesses creep, cold and calculating.
Drunken sobs echo, under locked bedroom doors.
As toppled shot-glasses lay, in scattered pools of ***
Poolside lounge chairs plummet, making argyle splashes,
Coming to rest with cell phones and wallets.
Frigid lake water, antagonizes moonlit lovers.
Daring glances spread gossamer lies, unlocking elusive touches.
These alabaster halls consume infant minds, yet
Not tonight.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 1:26 AM UTC
Black and White Black and Yellow. The second keyboard and a small pinpoint. B İzimi'i. Now the warrior story and the very bad woman. AAPP 3 / Bailey Lionesses and Natte Naidi,
In the 40 years since the leader of the Abyssinian diocese, a female leader marches to Tacitus, and the BBC and BBC leaders have been assigned to soldiers of Saudi Arabia's Gala soldiers. The young man and his grandson have cited the Syrians,
Churches, Muslim Plans and a series of generations. Black and White smoke in the BBC, BBC News, BBC News, Laptops, Food Supply and Arabia, the mouth of the mouth, the Welsh Orders model, many free programs
in the Arab Emirates, Tinkengi candy brush, and Latina Natalie,
slim and slender.
Point out your song and song in the big throat!!
Africa, Australia, USA is part of the Geographic
Division of the United States, Europe and South America. George Griffin's words, livestock, martyrs Emperor Thomas, their friends and their families,
and the German light, the strong ideology and Christianity
that symbolized the Christian life, the bridges were gathered in Russia, England and the United States. In the morning fire and poetry, a brief booklet of the Uppsala, and a lawyer and former colleague respect the son of a dead man. In the second hour, the woman was a delusion, a god, a Roman god, in the same god, a Roman goddess of Rome. In the eye, the old trees are screams and high health benefits. The Mexican Mexican Mexican Museum, Vitamins and Minerals, filled with mountain chains, dense clouds and miraculous dreams. The beetles in my head were "in England, Guinea, the United Kingdom, the barracks, the raging, and the lives of marine life in the United Kingdom." Antiplical machines are the first payment for the first poem of the poem. It was posted on the special foot. Black and White Black and Yellow. The second keyboard and a small pinpoint.
B İzimi'i. Now the warrior story and the very bad woman.
AAPP 3 / Baily Lionan Nattenaidi In the 40 years since the leader of the Abyssinian diocese, a female leader marches to Tacitus,
and the BBC and BBC leaders have been assigned to soldiers of Saudi Arabia's Gala soldiers. The young man and his grandson have cited the Syrians, Churches, Muslim Plans and a series of generations.
Black and White smoke in the BBC, BBC News, BBC News, Laptops, Food Supply and Arabia, the mouth of the mouth, the Welsh Orders model, many free programs in the Arab Emirates, Tinkengi candy brush, and Latina Natalie, slim and slender.
Point out your song and song in the big, big throat!!
Africa, Australia, USA is part of the Geographic Division of the United States, Europe and South America.
George Griffin's words,
livestock, martyrs to Emperor Thomas,
their friends and their families, and the German light, the strong ideology and Christianity that symbolized the Christian life, the bridges were gathered in Russia,
England and the United States. In the morning fire and poetry, a brief booklet of the Uppsala, and a lawyer and former colleague respect the son of a dead man. In the second hour, the woman was a delusion, a god, a Roman god,
in the same god, a Roman goddess of Rome. In the eye, the old trees are screams and high health benefits. The Mexican Mexican Mexican Museum, Vitamins and Minerals,
filled with mountain chains, dense clouds and miraculous dreams.
The beetles in my head were "in England, Guinea, the United Kingdom, the barracks, the raging, and the lives of marine life in the United Kingdom." Antiplical machines are the first payment for the first poem of the poem.
It was posted on the special foot.Black and white Black and yellow.
The second keyboard and a small pinpoint. B İzimi'i. Now the story of the warrior and the very bad woman. AAPP 3 /
Bailey Lioness and Nattenaidi In the 40 years since the leader of the Abyssinian diocese,
a female leader marches towards Tacitus,
and the leaders of the BBC and the BBC
have been assigned to soldiers of the Saudi Arabian Gala.
The young man and his grandson have quoted the Syrians,
the churches, the Muslim plans
and a series of generations. Black and white smoke
on the BBC, BBC News, BBC News, Laptops,
Food Supply and Arabia, by word of mouth,
the Welsh Order models,
many free programs in the UAE, Tinkengi;
candy brush and Latina Natalie, slim and slender.
Point out your song and your song in the big throat!
Africa, Australia, USA UU;
It is part of the Geographic Division of the United States,
Europe and South America. The words of George Griffin,
the cattle, the martyrs, the Emperor Thomas,
his friends and their families, and the German light,
the strong ideology and Christianity
that symbolized the Christian life,
the bridges met in Russia,
England and the States United. In the morning,
fire and poetry, a brief leaflet from Uppsala
and a lawyer and former colleague respect the son of a dead man.
In the second hour, the woman was a deception,
a god, a Roman god, in the same god,
a Roman goddess of Rome. In the eye,
old trees are screams and high health benefits.
The Mexican Mexican Mexican Museum,
Vitamins and Minerals, full of mountain ranges, dense clouds
and miraculous dreams.
The beetles on my head were
"in England, Guinea, the United Kingdom,
the barracks, the rage and the lives
of marine life in the United Kingdom".
The machines antiplicas are the first payment
of the first poem of the poem. It was published in the special foot.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 8:45 PM UTC
My appetite for life
And all its pain I have
Often felt has shrunk
Under all its challenge
As I have even sort to
Unconsciously share some
Of my precious pain
But that was as a young cub
Not a fully grown male Lion
But here I stand in the chaos
Of one of my fresh Kills
I have let to many voices in
Who are all these animals
Trying to devour my
My **** , my pain
ROAR !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AND ROAR !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Get away from my ****
For you deny me my strength
My beautiful Lionesses and Lions
Return to ferociously feed
For they are all ravished
This is my pain so keep
Your distance little ones
Please do not diminish
My power by hiding my
Truth within your sweet lies
Or guesses , guesses and guesses
Please do not insult my strength
By creating a make believe world
And do not cover me with
Scaffolding so that you
may work on me , for I am
The finished article
I do not need to be
Held up or supported
With your ropes and strings
For I am no ones puppet
I pace and growl to warn many of
Who have eye's for my **** for they
See the strength it gives me
As my pride feasts
I stand tall with a dignity
As I own my space I grow
In statcher and my wobbly
legs feel like pillars of strength
My soft pads meet the earth
With a deep silence and alertness
As I stand strongly because
My feet always touch the earth
As the power of my leap is
Governed not only by the strength
Of my spirit but also with the
Firmness it meets the earth
For my power explodes when
The strength of my soul hits the earth
So I growl at all avoidance
And hunger for the truth
My Lions seem so alive
As they ravage and feast
While I stand and shine brightly
In my yellow sandy coat
Which glistens in the sun
As streaks of pure Gold
Start flashing and flashing
As the worlds projections
Reflect and bounce of me
Dare they look into my eyes
And see the ownership of my being
Learning to devour pain in life
Is not easy , but we need not
Look any further than
THE LION'S FRESH ****
And some where in their fury
We shall find our freedom
LikeLike · · Promote · Sh
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 6:59 PM UTC
For Al
*your limbs,
a finger, a toe,
an arm, a leg,
cannot be amputated,
without your presence...*
when the men
drive in the car together,
the women, best friends,
absent,
temporarily away,
their men,
time release the
the secret shavings
of truthful conversations,
the unconstrained sharings,
spoke, untold,
free from the raised eyebrow,
the serious shushing
of censoring partners,
Lionesses-in-Absentia
who else
where else can you tell
the complaints unspoken,
the peculiarities, the ironies,
that make you smile/wince
laughingly grimace
and now the men are
friends
so when he asks,
come to the movies with us,
tho you are neat beat,
dead on the feet,
you now know,
too late, too late,
always and evermore
say sure,
cause,
now that he is gone
in a single swoop felling,
his oak trembling,
fallen
oh my friend,
now on his side,
lifeless
you say sure,
always
sure,
cause you have to be there,
just in case,
it is time they declare
to severe sever
one of your very own
limbs
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
Such a people person,
Such a kind person,
Such a loving person,
Such a sociable person
A well loved person.
Yet, not a curious person.
No questions asked of others,
No intrigue as to world affairs,
No who, what, where or when
Of matters outside of family.
You nurtured me,
Protected me,
Literally saved me once,
Yet my curiosity has no bounds.
I waste time in tangents,
Learn a lot about nothing,
Shoe horn facts into conversation.
Yet you are always content,
Like a lioness watching her cubs.
Lionesses' weights can vary from 150kg to 250kg and may give birth to four cubs at a time.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 3:39 PM UTC
She doesn't own a fighter's body
Neither does she carry weapons
But the thing they have in common
Is... She has a fighter's heart
She fights for her daily bread
The world is her battlefield
She's a lionesses well challenged
Her battle is internal
Between her soul and her body
She chooses to work than to beg
The bread she earns is her trophy
Jul 6, 2017
Jul 6, 2017 at 7:55 AM UTC
Have you ever felt so alive, so truly alive
that it seemed as if the birds sing for you
that the sun turns up every day, to say How do you do!
the waves come crashing to the shore,
to bring you news from the sea floor
the winds whistle and crash through the trees
rushing to you to do as you please
the tigers and lions and lionesses roar
to applaud your presence among all the bores
that the clouds thrash and thunder and burst
to give you a cool drink should you feel the thirst
that all of nature has come alive
to stand witness to you embracing your life
I felt like this today, when a loneliness was driven away
two eyes, two ears, two legs, two of everything
but the heart is always alone, that poor old thing
so when such a lonely soul finds its match
to play with, dance with and if fall then catch
then it would seem all the world is thine oyster
of your fate and destiny, thou be the master
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 5:37 AM UTC
From the bowels of space came a roar
like a million lionesses; the chasms &
caverns of dark space quaking w/ its echos;
Inanna had awakened; the oldest living goddess
in all of existence, born of the sky itself &
an earthly father whose frame was shrouded
in dark clouds; the first man whom Medusa
had unwittingly seduced, producing the first
divorce between Inanna's celestial parents,
dividing the cosmic family for all time; Inanna
wanted revenge for the ancient wrong wrongly
thought wrought by the adolescent snake-haired
charmer; "Bring me the head of Medusa!"
the ancient goddess wails; Medusa having
inherited the universal throne as the most
beautiful goddess of them all, beating out
the fiercest competitors from throughout all time
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 2:09 AM UTC
There are butterflies in your stomach?
They flutter when you see him;
a furious blush paints your face,
raw brush strokes and
unadulterated emotion
leaving behind a rich pigment
known as cluelessness.
Mix in a bit of pallor,
and it's embarrassment.
They beat their mosaic-printed wings
with a stumble of your feet
or a failed exam,
a 68 in Applied Physics
when you should have pulled a crisp 69.
They find Eden-tier gardens with excitement
on par with that of a pajama-clad kid on Christmas morning,
and I bet you relish in the feeling.
But little did you know,
Miss Little Innocent sitting there
with her head weighed down
with her heavy thoughts and knock-off Docs
pigeon-toed in a less than symbol
(don't you know that, sixty-eight?),
had elephants,
prides of lions,
*********
the whole savanna
housed inside her ribcage,
bones rattling from deafening roars;
a cognizant mind stumbling from the seismic waves
of leviathan footsteps,
shaking the ground she walks on.
The pain in her chest,
the god awful attempts to provide
for her own microcosmic ecosystem
wracked her frail frame without mercy.
She continued to bounce her knees
and answer your questions
with breathy, exhausting syllables,
but you put yourself out of commission.
You write and write about your butterflies,
but think about how
it must feel to have to accept
lionesses gnawing on your shoulderblades.
Would you ask for your beautiful ******** back?
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 9:46 AM UTC
I want to have you tattooed on me. In True size.
Every point copied; Pierced through my dermis and dotted under my skin. Line by line. Your soft curves imaged. The pretty picture you are.
The artist has to capture your look and feel.
Grasp the splendour of your character; without taking it from you whatsoever. You are far to untamable to be pinned down like that; there is a reason butterflies are being framed and lionesses not.
Suddenly you stood there, and I was ****
Nobody could forsee that I were yet to see a godess. They are not made as Beautifull as this anymore.
Seldom before and with greater exception after.
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 12:51 PM UTC
He once looked at me like I was his world
No action by me was ever wrong
Now that she has shown him the universe
I am only a twinkling star in the night
I never truly loved him
No wait that’s not true
I loved him but not in the way he wanted
Why does it hurt so much to know that I've lost his love
To be discarded like I mean nothing
Didn't I at one time mean something?
Wasn't i his everything
Within days of talking to her,
we are dust
I hope that the universes you find together last longer
For ours is a black hole
Filled only with lionesses and confusion
How could someone destroy his world so mercilessly?
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 3:33 PM UTC
Sometimes
it gets so bad
that I stop drinking
or smoking,
or, god forbid,
both.
Sometimes
it gets so bad
I think I might
do something really stupid
like pray,
or move to California,
or get a tattoo
of an empty pale blue dot,
or throw myself to the lionesses,
or write poetry,
or call her.
Sometimes
it gets so bad
that lilacs turn black.
Sometimes
it gets so bad
that I make statues
of happy people
out of the rocks
at rock bottom.
Sometimes
it gets so bad,
that I shoot
hummingbirds
with 24 caliber regrets.
There are sidewalks
soaked with apathy.
There are ladders
that were intentionally
built to be
almost tall enough
to reach the fruit
on the tree that your soul aches for.
You'll thank yourself later.
It will always mean more to you
if it is constantly just beyond your fingertips.
Sometimes
it gets so bad
that I see the ghost
of the person I thought you were
In the smiling
eyes
of a brand new human.
I see fire escapes
and think of the best hypomanic episode
I ever had.
And then
It gets so bad
all of it rushes back
and the knife
that once cut me free
guts me.
Sometimes
it gets so bad
that I dare it to get worse.
And then it does
and I start to laugh
like some kind of
*********
Sometimes
it gets so bad
that I start
to love myself.
Sometimes
it gets so bad
that caterpillars
make me cry.
Sometimes
it gets so bad
I melt away,
and all that is left
is the music of revelry.
Sometimes
it gets so bad
that I wear down cinder blocks
with my tongue,
and those black lilacs
don't get their color back,
but I see them as August.
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 4:04 PM UTC