"Fag" "Love"

It was there on his chest
"Fag"
Was it on mine?
I never wanted to be
the cattle of a movement.
Charm.
I wanted flattery.
I needed the validating force,
the historic power of a "you and I".
Let someone,
anyone,
give to me
identity,
mission,
tomorrow.
Grandma never had to scream,
march for it.
What a painfully easy,
 flaw of a promise
she willed to me.
Pulling up her onions,
cultivating all she deserved
from the world,
from her master.
Why was it not mine?
I assumed as much.
As a child I did
learn,
pray,
behave.
Where, oh where, is the faithful
idea of deserving?
I have sowed a life,
but they took the reaping.
Now, here I stand in the middle
thoughtfully branded with it.
"Love"

Right Here

We know where we are
No clue to where we goin
It's our right to be afraid
But we busy with our lovin
I see just in front of me
But the clock, I hear it tickin
When will we close our eyes
And realize that we dreamin

It's Brewing.

A warm wind is brewing.

The traveling force

 of green pastures, flowers,

and the sweet, over-powering

smell of honeysuckle is rushing

to meet us. A brighter sun

travels faster than a mother

to greet her wandering child.

A cooler, refreshing rain

will cover us, blanket the ground,

drowning us in the bloom,

the rebirth. Windows will open,

and we will all expose ourselves

to the tantalizing danger of the sun.

 The Earth will start to heal,

to repair the anguish of a raging Winter,

inspiring us all

to forgive,

to see each other plainly.

And, in turn, our hearts will heal.

Our souls will start an eruption

of creativity,

 the type of thinking and loving only done

 when Spring comes. It will sweep us away,

It will clean us. We will learn living

through it. Glimpses of hummingbirds,

will teach us the meaning of a companion.

 The resurgence of a lost vibrant color

 will teach us restoration.

Renewal. 

Spring will give us no option.

Bliss.

It's brewing.

Love Music

What is the sound of love?
The floor creeks and I hear it
I feel it's vibration underfoot
My heart aligns with its rhythm
Feverishly beating
What is the sound of love?
The sufferable silence made
Crisp and clear nothingness
Created with patience and care
Stale air loudly advertising
The absence of
What is the sound of love?
The delicate turn of the hinges
The careful tiptoe forward
And the volume's on full blast
What is the sound of love?
Inhale
Exhale