Love is not pink.
It is is not the squeals of a little girl,
of a little baby whining in the cradle.
Not pearls round your neck
or a flower blooming in your soft, soft hair,

Love is not white.
Not the song of an angel,
of the innocent beauty of ethereal light.
Not the heavenly singing from above,
or a dance in tutus around a swan's passing,


Love is not black.
Not the harsh, gritty sadness,
of an age old fire's remnants.
Not the evil darkness lurking,
or a lie that breaks down the walls of the living,

Love is not purple.
Not the mystery of a simple mind,
of death's lullaby to sing you to sleep.
Not the murky depths of an old sea,
or a wicked distortion of concrete old rock.


Love is red.
Love is passion, fire,
it is a great, great inferno,
it crumbles your life to ash,
Love is the taste of cherry red lips,
of a dress which shimmies down your shape,
of everything just coming together like strings on a piece of fabric,


Love is red.

She searches among the masses, their daughter in her hands. Her dress a fluffy pink, her hair in a head band. They have never spent this long apart, never dreamed the hurt it would cause in their heart. When she had watched him leave, her body willed away her tears. While others had cheered. She continued to watch for a shave of brown, a think of dark/light green.She waited for him in dark/gray jeans. The masses continued, her heart falling with every step. Had some note been unanswered? Had something been left unsaid. Her eyes come alight with love, her hands holding a tiny, pink dove. This is it. She thinks quietly to herself, * "I hope you like little-bit"

Your fingers brush
Against me and paint me
Anew with a lush

In your arms I am sweet
Relaxed and open you
Make My heart complete

I love resting on your *****
I am like a child
Arousing like a cherry blossom

You tickle my soul pink
Invoking the most ardent of feelings
In a single packed destined for you
Tell me now you wont leave my bed sheets
Laying next to you I feel love true.

In her eyes
He is beautiful.
He is the fullness of a word that she will never find.
The one word that would perfectly describe
His handsomeness, his very essence,
His charm, and ardent presence.
He is the pink within her life.
His is the warmth that melts her mind
and sets the butterflies in her heart to fly.
Sets the wings of her heart to spread
that she might fly to his light.
He is the Helios to her Clytie
He is the star to which her songbird heart sings.
She is tuned into his key.
She blushes when he puts his lips
to hers and sets her face to glowing.
Sets her heart to soaring.
She doesn’t know the word to describe
the feeling he gives her. The word that
captures what he is to her what he is in her life.
But she knowss there was never a better feeling
before he stepped into her life.

This isn't something or someone you bring home to mom,
This is a jaded piece of glass with a a fading cigarette dancing from his lips.

This isn't what you dreamt of from children's books,
This is you finding Prince Charming half unconscious in the gutter, a little too faded for his own well being.

This isn't your dad coming home tonight, or any night soon,
This is seven years of you trying to play catch with yourself in the yard but knowing you don't have the strength, let alone the will power to go the distance this time around.

This isn't the party where you kiss everyone with loose ends,
This is where you collapse on the couch at 4 from being love drunk, with a hint of whiskey on your sour tongue.

This isn't closing your eyes and clenching onto your rosary hoping God calls you back,
This is the devil picking up the first time around and telling you what you really want to hear, telling you to **** all your darlings by day break.

This isn't about peace to your superiors,
This is about claiming what was rightfully obtained in the ruins, shackles on your ankles and a rib cage with roses blossoming on the inside.

This isn't about equal governance,
This is about the sands of time knowing those who have vanished,
While the top see no one below.

This  isn't about a single deity,
This is about letting you freely walk these lands and not having to seek refuge from those trying to claim you and the temples you structured.

This isn't about the right of passage,
This is about our land, this is about giving you a home when yours lays in ruin waiting to be built up again, ready to be claimed.

This isn't about the war of the strip,
This is about letting those who exist claim who they are,
claim where they stand as a holy ground to their ancestors.

This isn't a war song,
This is for those born not of a home and still call the distance between two spaces the place where they belong, where they come from.

This isn't a holy war,
This is a war spell bound cluster **** of ignorance, allowing you to free the bomb drops but not letting you seek shelter during the aftershock,
We can run you to the grit but we can't let you see where we lay our heads for some narcissistic reason.  

This isn't about being separate from the path,
This is about paving a new path, about creating the new gap between youth and art.

This isn't about politics,
This is about birthing a new generation of equal representation.

This isn't about showing the world we care about women,
This is letting you know all women are power, the are our youth and our wise, they are our support beams and our battle axes,
Let them shine with the stars as they were birthed to.

This isn't an ode to love,
This is me telling you I love you.

Sherlock is indebted, forever;
To Mike,
For he made it possible for Holmes,
To meet the (only) friend of his life.
Oh look at John,
How baffled he was,
For he had just met a man,
About him, who knew all.
The army doctor thing, the Afghanistan war,
And that his sibling was alcoholic,
About this Sherlock was sure.

Without a word about himself,
Just the name and address,
Holmes went away,
Leaving John, with many questions,
And their answers for him to guess.

A queer flat mate, he was, a bit rude
Sherlock, you know;
Mrs. Hudson was nicer,
But not their housekeeper!
Apparently, SH would play violin to think,
Knew it was DI Lestrade at the door,
And there was another ******,
Including this one, counting to four,
Without a hint.

The crime scene was sealed,
Under supervision of Donovan,
And according to Sherlock,
There was something going on,
Between her,
And Anderson.

A woman was dead,
Wore everything in pink,
Holmes deduced her marriage state,
Just by her ring!
He slammed the door at Anderson,
For he (SH) found him irritating.
“Rache is not for revenge”, Holmes said,
“She was writing Rachel, obviously”.
Left-handed she was,
And was carrying a suitcase,
But as Lestrade said,
There was never a case.

Mr. Holmes was so excited then,
He teased others to be stupid,
Watson helped him make a point,
In order to find the criminal,
But Holmes believed,
The pink case was the cupid.

I may be a universe away.
I might have traveled between the stars to reach the fifth dimension,
Only to speak to you through the voices I left for you on the wall.
I made it easy enough for anyone to decipher but only for you to pick up on the pieces left behind.
Trace it back to what you've always wanted me to tell you.
Delineate the way it was always meant to be,
The both of us growing old while the stars shine brightest at the darkest of night.

I'm here now, among the lines of time,
Trying to figure out my way back to you,
Trying to glide peacefully through each and every moment we ever shared,
Knowing I get to drift among these times in the stillness as they were meant to belong.
The good mixed in with the ugly makes all of this seem a bit more comforting, a bit more realistic.
The only true quantitive data I've been able to make up is that love will bring me back to you in time.
Let love flow through you when we part for I'll always be there and I'll always find my way back when you are freely open.
Don't think this is the love that's been created from the way we were taught,
But the kind that transcends time and space and has no true formula for figuring out why it exists,
Why it can't bend or why it can't stretch.
We have our own formula for how it works so that's the path I plan on following.
So, hold tight for I'll be back soon.

tangly hair and light pink nails
a pretty little mess
disaster's got his eyes on you
and your black sequin dress

you sniff and sneeze just what you please
when all you want is wine and cheese
you've sent your brain over the seas
and give your love the rose gold keys