Let
that be for reason, to die multiple lives; and god heard, for a goddess stood,
to judge a cycle.
I couldn’t stop, for driven deeply, to
churn a nightmare; where women fled, and acid burned—the depth of a soul. I knew for grandma, and such was dignity,
to yearn for praise; where life was green, and death was myth, to feature the
madness. I sit with joy, even a
smile, to die 9/11; and what for smiles, to cry and live, where thousands grieve;
but this is life, to win to lose, captured at a red light. We know for hate, to feel for hated—a
mirror at an orange light.
I scream it torn, to die a psych, to know
for this life; and god heard, for a goddess stood, to judge a cycle. Tell me, “Love”; and tell me, “Life”; and
tell me, “God.” The days are visions,
to try to live, a monk through a city; so more is pain, to feature thoughts, a
pint for laughing. We never could, and
never would, to feel for pity; and oh to god, the deepest scar, to see for
mother; and there you stood, a woman my age, shoving disrespect; where purple
grew, a dream of dreams, and passion grew.
I laugh and mourn; a storm of souls, to yank and pull life.
We die to live, plotting and scheming, to
forge a family. So more a truth: the
real for the unreal, to settle in realness.
I love to see it, a person as me, shoveling snow; where five is ten, and
ten is life, to catch a greyhound.
It’s more a riddle, for those made privy, to live it and die.
We love with reason, a season for a
falcon, to write and fall; in which is love, a creative vision, a teacher as a
muse. I love for thoughts, to hear
for words, a lecture through a soul; and god heard, for a goddess stood, to
judge a cycle; where heaven broke, to fill for souls, to love in silence; for
this is wind, a treble beat, the temple of sorrows.
