OUTER SPACE

Her roar left me raw
As her words waged war
Against the images she imagined, loved then tore
into pieces that crystallized in her core.

Nonetheless she kissed comfort with the lips she wore.
Her self esteem would soon soar
and multiply with every set of eyes her flowering femininity would draw

His ego would knock on an open door
She has seen this before
though it is she that he claims to adore
before spring he will remember that open door

Her self esteem will plummet and crash on the floor
The emotions will gather her broken heart beats and her soul will pour

she slips back into the moment and thinks: don't be such a bore

And now it's nearly spring
She's lost a beautified thing

Her eyes blossom into tears
 love has become a painful spear
that settled in the flesh of her soul.

All the world's hype and lustful lies solidify in her hand
And now once more she felt safe behind her shield

Every time I hear her roar
My existence shatters into pieces of her:

Sharp edges of pain
without comfort

A bare bitterness
waiting to be clothed by that...... sweet lovin

Drama dripping from her eyes

That might be why she'd rather have them thinking of her thighs

She always wore a different face
But always wore the same dress

Always sinking into the same space

Sometimes I wish some one would write
across the blue sky

for this lioness

a place that might catch her gentle eyes

YOU ARE YOUR SAFEST SPACE!
NOT THE STARS IN OUTER SPACE!

TODAY

Time towers over us
As we interpret this moment to be hours

Minutes molded into a maze
sliced from seconds that become fast cementing pathways
we walk on encircled in bubbles of new born days
mornings mapped with mourning and a couple of sun rays

As curiosity or lack thereof leads us to our inseparable ways
that grow into mushrooming midday's
We merge melody and music into our ancestors yesterday's and buried ways

Well at least till we fumble upon our own way or the prescribed way

Or till  lazy afternoon naps give us away
When we dream of that hypnotizing perfume of our full potential
that our daily chores did not care to mention

Perhaps when self pity sets
we will erase regret in sets

And begin to remember the sound spoken by the seed
that silently sprouts into an awesome sight

Between the palms of the earth, beneath a skin as dark as night 
it resolves within itself to take the form of light
With all its being it searches for what is warm and bright
With all it's might 

And never ceases to seek it even in the cold rain
till it reaches the certainty of the silencing night 


What is best to praise
of our encounter with this ever present today?

That throws what we think to be ours
in a dungeon so far away
that nothing remains of it's shadow
other than the mind's futile play
or the heart's abstract contracting pain

Do we praise Today?

How does one explain 
That today was made plain
If one cannot comprehend 
that today was marvelously made?