Stroke soft the curves
Of the forbidden servant,
Follow paths of the intention
And know not the rose touched
Is a petal in a cyclone:

**** the martyr
And feed the the dogs,
They serve a purpose beyond
Your grasp, under the foot
Of your heavy needs
And spiteful words.

Speak;
And the ***** do grasp,
They will not let the spirit free
When pain cannot be released
And the world would be great
If we could share beauty like
It shares its misery.

**** them softly with pretty works
And speak the réflection
Inward,
There you are,
You are what you say after you
Do the favor and the world
Is owed to you.

Oh pain.
Such glorious levels you reach
Within the ugliness of reflection,
How you see and how you feel
Is how you choke and how you
Hold,
Pain, all that can be remembered
Not in the moment,
But in a lifetime.

Some days I want to be a wild horse
or a gypsy wild and free
Don't put any fence around me
Who would want to tame this
Heart of wild
I just want to be somewhere
Anywhere just not confined

Other days I want to build a house
Build me a home
Build my life around my kids and spouse
Sometimes I can follow the direction of the reins
Even if they do feel like chains
I want to give my all
I am just so scared to answer the call

It seems I want to have my cake
and to eat it too
Its like I have double lives  ~ What am I to do
I want my freedom and I want his time
Cannot divulge all the darkness in my mind
There is beauty in imperfection
and order in the unruliness
I am a walking contradiction
Yes I'm somewhat of a mess
Words rhythm and movement are what I live for
and I can sometimes give up the control
I do what feels right to me
Cause there's a gypsy living in my soul

she needed the fare home,       i gave her change.



the school girl bent level, gave her the note, touched

her and left.



sometimes

we look after our own.

sbm.