I am yours, out of time
You are mine with a fierceness
that is stronger than the
powerful humans that we are,
prophets burdened by the
talent we must reveal
the Love we must accept
The hatred you, my King, were beaten with
locked you in a room that taught you
your dreams
are a nightmare
I am not that fear
I am human, and my purpose
out of time, is
to be your carrier when you are ill
to be your fighter when you are weak
to squash my ignorant ego
to fly weightlessly above the
images I dreamt as a tiny child,
aware and confident that I was
conceived in love
Believe in our infinite knowledge and insight
in our hearts we are one
We heard them beating in celebration
We are the earth and the axis
We are the infinite and the affected,
born from the nectar of life that chose
you for me
27 September 2013
Clarkson
This street, my Clarkson street,
I know you are not pristine
You are dirt and glass and tall grass
You are 1888 and 1892
You are self-realization and unconditional love
But I have seen you slam yourself to the ground
I have heard you scream without thought
And fire gunshots into the city sky
I believe in the collective whole, we scaffolds to masterpiece
I have hope, I am colorblind
I am music and the beggars story
I am bounded by Mount Zion's love and the comfort of a warm meal
You have given me my life in one longitude
You are my backbone and my love's resting place
11 August 2013
I know you are not pristine
You are dirt and glass and tall grass
You are 1888 and 1892
You are self-realization and unconditional love
But I have seen you slam yourself to the ground
I have heard you scream without thought
And fire gunshots into the city sky
I believe in the collective whole, we scaffolds to masterpiece
I have hope, I am colorblind
I am music and the beggars story
I am bounded by Mount Zion's love and the comfort of a warm meal
You have given me my life in one longitude
You are my backbone and my love's resting place
11 August 2013
My Man Oh My Oh Me
I find myself here, alone in body, and your name sounds like a horn. I busy myself with jewelry and things, try to focus on the tangible: the knobby carpet on my toes, the smell of a shirt, the grinning lamp. But as my eyes begin to lid I am flustered by a stirring like dry leaves, small shards that once thrived, green, in my mind. The mind loves powerfully, only kept alive by the mechanical motion of the heart.
You stir in me and art again has meaning, beauty has purpose. You and I, the fire, the whiskey, the dawn through the stained glass. We drag a chair across the floor to sit in the light. My dress is periwinkle, not black. You look at me, I love how you look at me. You say it's my eyes, for me it is all of you, a man like I've never seen one. Oasis child, born into a man, don't I know you better than the rest? I shake and I am not scared. I jump at your hands and the falling coals in the fireplace. I know this sunrise will end but I dive into the days, the weeks, with eyes closed and hands tied.
When I hear those songs again, I feel choked with need. Never glancing back, I am being pushed and prodded forward to find you tomorrow. Ever since our hands shook, I am carried, a doll in a curious child's hand. I have things to share with you: the songs I promised, our shared sadnesses, the deep joy I find in you. I will burrow in your heart, where you thought nothing could root, I will warm you and rock you gently. I have the antidote to your fears, I am not those things. I am breathing, swallowing the need, and attempting to accept the silence you have given to me.
I promise, we will never grow old.
You stir in me and art again has meaning, beauty has purpose. You and I, the fire, the whiskey, the dawn through the stained glass. We drag a chair across the floor to sit in the light. My dress is periwinkle, not black. You look at me, I love how you look at me. You say it's my eyes, for me it is all of you, a man like I've never seen one. Oasis child, born into a man, don't I know you better than the rest? I shake and I am not scared. I jump at your hands and the falling coals in the fireplace. I know this sunrise will end but I dive into the days, the weeks, with eyes closed and hands tied.
When I hear those songs again, I feel choked with need. Never glancing back, I am being pushed and prodded forward to find you tomorrow. Ever since our hands shook, I am carried, a doll in a curious child's hand. I have things to share with you: the songs I promised, our shared sadnesses, the deep joy I find in you. I will burrow in your heart, where you thought nothing could root, I will warm you and rock you gently. I have the antidote to your fears, I am not those things. I am breathing, swallowing the need, and attempting to accept the silence you have given to me.
I promise, we will never grow old.
22 February 2013
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