Her deception

Her lies

Her stare

Her eyes

The look...

Why do I still fall for your look?

It's because,

I want to believe you...

It's because...

I don't want to leave you.

The look...

She will watch my heart die.

The look...

Why won't you stop staring and help me?

Why?

You are not the first,
I loved,
Or even maybe
The last,
(I lie, you're the one)

I want your heart,
To capture,
Your soul, such
Sweet rapture,
(I swear, you can trust in me)

I wait in the spaces,
Distances between,
Land & sea, left
Caged unfree,
(I promise, you set me free)

Maybe we once met,
Birthday parties,
Smiling & laughing, kids
Skating parks,
(Remember how you saved me)

You sent me a smile,
Guiding me,
Holding my hand, you
Lifted me,
(Did I even thank you)

Always admiring your,
Relentless determination,
A mere stranger, who
You loved,
(I love you more)

I know this is past,
Imagined insane,
Know you now, my
Clambering mind,
(Are you just a dream)

I fell in love with you,
First sight,
No turning back, a
Massive attack,
(Did we meet at another time)

To find you back in,
My sight,
That first night, a
Drawing mind,
(Dreamscape, dreamscape, dreamscape)

You are all that I,
Dream of,
Every single night, when
You're quiet,
(Let it be, let it be, let it be)

You are all that matters to me,
as honest as the words I type,
sing,
or write.
I don't ever want to see,
you out of sight.
You seem so familiar,
a stranger set alight,
I see from afar,
someone known in flight.

© Sia Jane

God is in the mud,
not in the stars above.

God is not real,
But in things you feel.

God is not dead,
Neither is your head.

God is not love,
Just something further up.

Let Him stay there,
leave Him be,
He likes it in the mud.

Life had stained her
a reflection upon,
a broken glass mirror
naked, only butterflies
cover my *******
love hearts & roses,
form tattoos across,
around, my spine
decorating this bare
form, one alive, one a ghost
she's my best friend,
writing poetry together
she teaches me Spanish,
the work of Pablo Neruda
on the kitchen sideboards,
shed of our black leather
pencil skirts,
you played, so seductively
with the long waves
in my blonde sun tinted hair,
painting nails, spring baby blu
you rip pages of books, black & white
newspaper prints of unicorns,
they are playing with a younger self,
moi, je fais de la bicyclette,
les fleurs, a milliners gift box
baskets filled with,
shells from the sea shore
to which we always travel
la lune et le soleil,
knowing three things can
never remain hidden; the sun, the moon,
& my truth (not yours)
for that should be me,
not you.

© Sia Jane

David was waiting. Always waiting.
David did not know for what.
He didn’t speak until three years of age -
regardless of the speech therapists.
School came and school went
David the underachiever
who always got good grades
his mind wandered
and he spent most of his time inside of day dreams
he moved around a lot
always friends with the outsiders
punk rock, heavy metal, hip-hop
skate boards and ink
comic books and stand up comedy
one summer he met drugs and alcohol
and fell in love for the first time
with altered perceptions and thoughts
all the while -
David was always waiting,
but now, he was searching
searching for something -
******* anything which would bring it all full circle
whether he was shy or reserved is up for debate
but he always sought solace behind the locked door
notebooks began stacking up under beds
and thoughts began finding their way out of the nest
until the day he graduated high school with honors
He came upon the realization
that the time for waiting is over
the waiting - but never the searching
and David is out there - somewhere
looking for answers that he might never find
but at least he took the leap

You have the beauty
That enflames the heart
And enchants the soul
Within, don't hide it

Society's standards
Are ridiculous
The media's portrayal
Of what beauty is biased
We spend out of our means
To wear such and such labels
Wear pounds of make-up,
Starve ourselves,
Because who we look in
The mirror is not what
We see on tv?

What is beauty?
Is it the texture of my hair?
Is it the hue of my skin?
Is it my ethnicity?
Is it my weight?
What is beauty?

Black is beautiful
White is beautiful
Hispanic is beautiful
Asian is beautiful
Bi/multi racial is beautiful
You're beautiful
We're beautiful
We don't need society's
Validation
No, we don't need to
Be deemed perfect by society
In actual fact, it's standards
Are unatainable
So why do we strive for
Something we know is
Only an illusion?

Do we realize the impact
That media has in shaping
The way the millennium
Generation
Thinks, and behaves?
We demand change,
But we're the same people
Tuning in to the same
Shows that we protest about

We've become so engulfed
In the world of entertainment
That the word has lost
Meaning itself
Heck, I'm 18
I'm guilty of this too
Entertainment is no longer
Just that- it's crotch grabbing,
Glorified drug, alcohol abuse
And yet, we wonder why
Majority of
My generation has no substance,
No depth, and no layers

We no longer aspire to be
The Obamas, the Ghandis,
The Mandelas and so on
No! That has long passed
The 'American Dream' has
Become Kim Kardashian
And Kanye West

In all honesty,
We are our surroundings
You want change?
Let's stop watching reality tv
Maybe then these networks
Will stop producing more trash
Let's instill morals
In our children
And help them discover
The fire that burns inside
Them, the beauty within

I know you'll read this ****t, I hate when ya submissive
Passive aggressive, when we speak it's like you no longer listen
Can't follow a heart that has fear and clear omission
The Kryptonite from her smile got me making super bad decisions.
Imma just take a few sips of this champagne
The bubbles help close what's ripped open inside, while the alcohol clears the the eyes of this visual pain
To see what you want start to become distant
How can you convince a broken heart of it's deferred commitment?
And try to hold on to a persons resistance...
Your mental obstacles have you blocking all possibilities
looking for all the flaws when you're staring back at me
Cause it's easy to call it quits, simple to flee
I'm not lookin to harm girl, just tryna reach out and please. You...
How can you bloom a flower in a *** full of confusion? How can a couple a days in paradise all turn into an illusion?
I hear what you're saying, you've been hurt girl, that's a classic
hesitant kisses from her lips, think I can taste disaster
While similarities got us seeing who can push away who faster.
I mean..
What qualities in me were you even searching for?
I search for something I'm missing and disappear when I'm bored..but
You don't  have to believe in love anymore
Tried giving you something to look for
Who better for you than the boy? Huh?

if you could paint the constellations to capture the beauty of your favorite heroes
then the universe would be your self-portrait, my dear