Venus' Daughter

 

A fleeting dream soars in from the east

and I’m caught in its web-like dreamcatcher

threads, an ant in the cosmic wonderland,

strands wrapped around my heart strings.

And I wish for henna painted hands,

strumming a sitar as it blends into a viola,

a German opera, a restaurant band, becoming

an orchestra, whilst Celtic harps echo the sound

of my love, through mystic harmonious drones,

Spanish guitar overtones and luxurious

momentous tunes. A musical interlude of hope.

For music is the route to my soul

 

And if she sails across oceans to my frail silent bones,

I’ll let my heart be a home and my soul become a star.

 

So far away, and yet always near me.

Her heart sings soulfully like a songbird

before she takes to wing and flies on the wind.

Setting sight for a mystical union. A majestic composition.

 

Singing, 'guide me home, where I can sit,

wishing a drip feed of lips speaking in

little sips of love.'

 

And I'll slip into a daydream, heart aflutter,

as the blinds close and the light stutters

like a waterfall across my chest.

 

And her soul reflects diamond light,

and I feel myself wishing to caress

the treasure inside. To share the pleasure

of a spacewalk. As on this starry stage we rise.

 

To make first contact, like two alien souls

laying eyes on ultraviolet skies.

 

And she will sing in words alien to me,

a song of Venus’ daughter, to mars' son,

alone on a red stone, the ruby rock and the pink rose.

 

And as I crush so hard, my surface becomes crystal,

reflecting the rose's beauty to the stars

and the words become clearer.

As two worlds orbit nearer

 

And I can’t hide my feelings,

they dance in the vast orchestral

songs that the stars hum to lead us home.

So, I let them form, and I watch them shine.

And if they are not to be, I won’t dull this light.

For it guides the way I see.

I’ve renewed my love of me,

and with it, my love of everything

 

And I hum along with a song I heard in a daydream.

Unconditionally yours

 

Have I said too much?

I let it slip

in a whispered kiss,

a word that could

easily have been missed

if I had just let it

sit,

but I held on

too tightly

that it squeezed

out of my grip and

I blurted it loudly.

and your ears

must have felt it hit.

 

And now I quiver inside,

those butterflies

won’t settle down, I wait

for the ground to open…

But nothing. Not a gaping chasm,

nor a yawning hole to fall in.

 

So, I stand transfixed.

If I grow roots, then I may

become a tree, or a flower

wilting away. Why did I say

that word, the one I let

fall from my lips?

If I’d kept my heart

out of my throat,

it would have never dripped

onto the paving stones

beneath your feet.

 

And I wait, as time ticks by

so slowly,

a trickling river running dry,

like my mouth from fear,

for I said too much,

I should have 

kept those words clear,

I should have stayed away,

but I said the words

I always wanted you to hear.

And wait. Why am I worrying?

It doesn’t matter either way,

I love you, it’s simply true,

so, I’ll let those words stay

and I’ll carry the weight,

because I don’t need

answers

to questions

that don’t require response

for my love is unconditionally yours.

On bare arms

 

That clock,

it’s ticking down.

A colossal countdown.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

It inches across continents,

leaps across chasms, it itches

under the skin of bare arms.

Pushing the hairs,

to stand up straight.

To...

Attention!

 

Now march.

 

LEFT.

RIGHT.

LEFT. RIGHT.

BEAR ARMS.

FIRE.

 

War looms under distant clouds,

getting closer by the hour.

Instances of hatred become

raging flames licking the souring sky.

 

Are we already too late?

Sleepwalking into a nightmare fate.

 

They said it wouldn’t happen,

we were too far advanced,

but they also said the great war,

was the war to end them all.

Yet still the sequel came along

bigger and badder than the one before.

Hollywood always wants more.

 

A match is struck, the fuse is lit,

the shit is flying through the air,

and the president has the floor,

fanning the flames. Pockets brimming

with blood money payments.

 

They said that we would

accept our differences,

but now we punish and distance

ourselves from any

that are not imitating us.

 

And the factories are transformed,

no longer creating goods,

instead mass-producing war,

as the rockets stack up high over head,

and the tills cry from the strain.

 

THUD THUD THUD

 

The sound of boots on broken backs,

the squelch of mud and a world gone mad.

The rumble of thunder, here come the tanks.

Now the air is aflame, let unleash the hounds.

 

Irrational.

It’s international.

Arms aloft. Alarms go off.

End time bombs fall

in slow-motion

staccato rhythm.

 

BOOM

 

Humanity crumbles

and we all

 

Blink out.

 

The money burns, the oil fields

soaked in clouds of smoke,

The factories just ground down stones.

The Hollywood sign falls,

crushing presidential bones under

rubble cathedral, surrounded

by headstones of the dead.

Standing straight like the hairs on bare arms.

 

And the earth cries, for the loss,

scars left upon her skin.

 

And the clock finally stops ticking.