Love

I hate that I'm imperfect
That I look at my arms and think to myself sometimes
"just slit them"
But don't have the guts
That I sometimes looks at myself in the mirror and can't see anyone there
That I'm told I have my mother's lips and fathers beard
I'm the living culmination, a joining in of lovers in the past
Alive in the present.
I miss my dad and can't see my mom
I know she shaped more of me
And at times I wonder and worry over
The war that's on my face
My father coming up from the grave
Still trying to breathe
My mom alive, yet so distant from me
I do more than see this
I feel it and see it
Their love overt
Obvious
And then I wonder
Was I ever truly worthy of love
When those who made me couldn't make it work forever?
😫😭

Man on Man

I rediscovered my legs 

But this time without a man between them 

for the longest of times, and as a man, I saw myself only as sandwiched between the duvet covers, the black sheets and a mans growth inside me

And now that they’ve all left and all I have is myself, I’ve come to realize that I as a man am enough

That i don’t need his scent or saliva in my mouth

Or the sweet sensation and warmth of skin as he turns me from lying on my back to erect on my knees just to enter me

As a man with multiple bags invisible to the eye, but heavy on the heart, am capable of loving without drowning in his semen

That I’m capable of love without forcing connection 

That I am a man

And I don’t need another to whisper sweet nothings for me to believe my worth

That I’m a man even though extremely and nauseatingly feminine

That even with a man in between my legs, his saliva in my mouth, and during the suffocation from his semen ... am enough

As a man,

rejected by others beyond the four walls of the bedroom

And that I’m worthy of love even if it means at times it’s warped 

Sons and Daughters of the firmament

... Because we are all "made up". No longer are we able to be.
Whenever we try to, to tap into being, who we really are - the force of the outside, the mundane, forever tempts us into believing that we are made of the trinket-like-nature we now feel, see, hear and taste. It forever attempts to trample us; the re-entry into the ethereal. Who we really are, the sons and daughters of the firmament...

Moratorium

You are the haunted house I still return to
The sad song whose tune still rings true
You are the dream imagined but never lived in
My husband and father of our Kids,
My protector and the best friend I never had
You are the "HIM" and thus I struggle to forget you
I'm still the man whose heart you broke a while ago,
& thus I cannot forgive you
Who's fault is it anyway that you were a mere ghost on this ship?
Who's fault is it anyway that I said what I meant and kept promises made?
At this moment I wouldn't dare wish love on anyone else
At this moment If I did I'd be like a promoter of the death of one
in another's hands
All love must cease to exist
Do I mean this?
Yes, temporarily and even perhaps beyond the blue-toned seas
Man, man, man how twisted we have this
May this delay be filled with endless scripts
A reminder to protect ones heart, always and without a doubt
I am cold,shivering, bruised
And perhaps why the endless, uninvited visits
I come to your house to haunt you
At least then we can both scare each other
Cease to be together and forever
You are the haunted house I still return to
The sad song whose tune still rings true
You are the dream imagined but never lived in
My husband and father of our Kids,
My protector and the best friend I never had
All love must cease to exist
Do I mean this?

B

There really is no place
And not enough space
And hence perhaps the distance...
God knows what he's doing, keeping us from illusion
But I need to know if through meeting
Wasn't it for our own healing?
Look at that
Where mine are closed yours are open
And where I frown you are smiling
We are one
But you're there and I'm here
I need to know, I want you here with me
Spirit rise, don't say you're too afraid

Your hands are the definition of protection
Your arms a place where I once found home
Your lips, tulips
They grow when you smile
Your eyes like the sky
Within them stars that bring light
Your hair so grand even if unkempt
Your ears they listen to my lousy and useless rants

Very few believe we will be
Sometimes I too am that shit
Some say "but he's all the way over there"
But is it not I who's too far?
I want the time to come
When my hands can be your morning crown
A kiss,  a stare, and run to you when the world makes you frown

Don't keep yourself hidden from me
I'll drown
Don't say we cannot anymore
Keep listening to the sound
The heart, spirit really does shout

Your hands are the definition of protection
Your arms a place where I once found home
Your lips, tulips
They grow when you smile
Your eyes like the sky
With stars that bring light
Your hair so grand even if unkempt
Your ears they listen to my lousy and useless rants

You're my muse
I'm sure to you that'll come as no news
You'll judge this for being too rhymy
Huh! I'm out of words now
But the rest really flew out

Artist. Healer.

I'm an artist first
A healer second
Who says it can't happen?
Send them my way, the naysayers and sooth seekers
Those who find it hard to fathom that all gifts don't  belong patterned
I can do them both and even more
I write, I sing
I read and learn but, also show for show
I want to sing out loud and dance with the crowds
But also need time alone and to hold on to my god-gifted crown
I want to hold a baby in my arms and help them speak
I want her ears to ring when it snows
and help her with the capture of sounds
And even their peaks
But I also want to be who I was meant to be;
I want to sing
I want to dance
I want to write and share this with the world
I want but more so need
To share this belief and truth with the world

That I'm an artist first
A healer second
Who says it can't happen?
Send them my way, the naysayers and sooth seekers
Those who find it hard to fathom that all gifts don't  belong patterned
I'm an artist first, a healer second
I'm an artist with thirst
A healer criss-crossed
I'm an artist, I'm a healer
I'm here now
Whether you believe or don't believe m-er
I'm here
I'm here

Accepting mea culpa ungiven

Accepting mea culpa ungiven...

I suppose it my fault to walk into this with expectation...
The expectation for truth, honesty, loyalty and transparency
The expectation for respect, value, love and participation
Expectation for the differentiation between privacy and secrecy
Expectation from the universe to spare me another heart-break, when11 months was taken to reach heart-mend

I suppose it my fault to fall into this with expectation...
The expectation for permanence, relief and a meeting between twin-flames
Expectation for Godliness with a fallen Angel,
Now on earth's surface, his feet on uneven planes, hugging
Expectation to overlook your flaws and only brighten darkness
Expectation to expect you to love me the way I was willing to love you
The expectation to love you into loving me

I suppose it my fault,
 to hold out my palms expecting love's weightlessness together with romance now forgotten;
a marrying of the two in today's world now only raging

I suppose it my fault to lie in this with expectation...
The expectation of innocence child-like;
a staring into my eyes through night and till morning- when the wings of birds and the sun's rays chime break
I suppose it my fault to love with a flame within me burning,
And the expectation for you not to suffer 3rd degree burns but instead learning

I accept, now accept mea culpa from you
For the expectations so loudly ungiven