happy birthday

it is a day of celebration.
of feasts fit for kings,
and worldly desires fulfilled.
of men who stand with gods.

you stand tall today
with your eyes gazing into the sun.
you have no reason or need
to look down upon mortals,
who bow low in worship and reverence.
but their bent knees
only serve to remind you of weakness.
and gods, unlike men,
are not weak.

let her lie in a bed that i have christened,
breathe in the air that has heard our moans,
touch your skin where my fingers have scarred.

the stars schemed against the gods
to bring you into my world.
and the skies shall stand witness
to your uncaring power
and her helpless suffering.
for when she closes her eyes
her dreams shall be far darker
than the deepest of nightmares.

you are mine forever
as even the gods shall learn. 

we grow up and learn 

to not believe

in santa clause, 

or guardian angels.

no tooth fairies, 

or fairy godmothers. 

as the years pass, 

we learn

that there is less and less magic in the world.

how is it then 

that we still always believe

in love? 

hyper social week

i saw a bird today
run over by a distracted driver.
a mangled heap on the street,
blood and feathers and guts spilled
shiny beak half-intact, half-cracked
like an accusing mirror.
its wings beaten and flat on the ground
its eyes barely open
one of its feet trying desperately to flee.

you have run me over, my love.
i lie here, looking up at the sky
with dark eyes, threatening to close.

please stop.
turn around.
help. 

being away from you hurts so much that i am forced to dream about us being together again. every minute of every day, i fearfully tell myself that things will fall back into place. because the alternative is darkness forever. darkness that even you cannot pull me out of. 

"i write nice things about you"

i saw you look at me,
with lusty defeated eyes
forcing yourself to breathe,
calm down, count to ten,
think about it for a minute.

i saw you looking at me,
felt the sadness in your touch,
and the longing in your eyes
drowned only by the sorrow of your moan.

yes, i know you don't want me.
but not wanting me is itself sin, my love.

come, let us confess.
let us beat our chests in protest,
let us mourn.

for you do not want me,
and i do not want me.

an ode to defeat

even the greatest of powers

cannot bring together the skies and the seas.

even the greatest of strengths

cannot uproot the amazonian jungle.

the strongest will

cannot make the wind turn around,

or erase the words written in stone. 

just as sure as water turns to ice

and surrounds us in deafening white silence, 

i know now

that even the greatest of loves

cannot bring us together again. 

until snow melts no more

i shall love you. 

until water turns to fire

i shall love you.

until the skies and the seas

bring us together again,

i shall love you. 

today i bleed black,
black drops of misery,
streaming darkness through me
piercing pain that strikes my gut,
brings me to my knees
to surrender.

clouded eyes trying to see
through the misty storm,
running through the rain.
if only i can reach you,
i shall be safe.

but there is no place in the world
safer than my grief.
and no feeling greater than my pain.
pain reminding me every minute
of what i have lost.

every day

- revelation -
yes it is always darkest before dawn,
and calm before the storm.
but today i know
that there are hundreds of ways
of living life without you.
but not one of them will ever equal
your absent kisses on my eager forehead,
or your shy touch on my willing body.

- denial -
i shall never return,
for i will never leave.

- immortality -
for a sinner cannot know what sin is,
until he brings himself to confession,
until his soul asks for forgiveness,
until the skies rain their anger upon him.

Lady Luck and Sir Destiny

Lucky girl they call me.

Lucky me.
I'm sent praise by those who don't believe.
And put on a pedestal by those who don't recognize worship.
I'm admired by souls lost in darkness
And lusted after by men who have never really seen a woman.
I'm given love by those that I don't love.
And told I'm beautiful by people who don't know about beauty.

Lady Luck and I met once, a long time ago.
We became good friends.

And as it is with all good friends,
We now email each other occasionally.

A response: What it is like to bee me

It's easy to be me,
Once you've got the hang of it.
It's about learning how to use your hands,
to appease the goddess within.
It's about talking softly,
or not talking at all sometimes.
It's about laughing out loud
Over the telephone, over the computer screen,
across oceans and through timezones.

It's easy to be me,
get into my high heels and give it a try.

It doesn't take much to be me.
You just have to believe
In the eternal that's devoid of traces,
In the present that has no mercy,
And in a past that becomes you.
You don't need lessons to know how to be me.
you'll only have to learn of kindness
which comes from knowing the cruelest misery.

It's easy to be me,
All you have to do is
find your soulmate.

There! Now, you're me!
Do you feel the love?
Do you feel the distance tearing at your insides?
Do you feel that love that makes your toes curl up
and leaves you staring at the darkness
in fear and desperation?

Do you feel the tears well up
when someone breaks up over the phone?
Do you know what it's like
to feel like watered-down iced coffee,
and know that your knees will give way
if you don't call out and breathe deep?
Do you know that feeling of being so high,
higher than the best song you've heard?
There, now you're me!

Now, go out today and be me.
Have a nice day.
When we finally come home and find each other,
I shall see what it is like to have you,
And you shall know what it is
to be me.

peter

let us talk all night
of rhythm and muse and magic,
let us hold each other
when it gets difficult to breathe,
let us cook and pamper
each other's divine soul,
let us open doors
for each other,
let us laugh together
and come close to tears,
let us tell each other
our sad stories,
let us go down
on each other,

let us do it all.

but let's never
call each other
lovers.

for when we talk of love,
it rains.
and when it rains,
our sins get washed away.

and what becomes of a sinner
with no sins?

breathe out

you believe i forget
and forgive
your sins,

but

just like the sinner never sees his priest,
a priest never forgets
a sinner's face. 

santé!

polite words collide,
quickly followed by angry eyes
and breathless minds.
we've gone past love now, my love
we've reached eternity.
just as waves clash against
relentless grey rock,
your eyes betray you
as they always have.

i shall think of you
and think of hot summer days
when we would lie and not touch
for it was too hot.
i shall think of you
and think of cold winter evenings
when the only warmth to be found
was in your arms.
i shall think of you
and think of hands caressing hair,
lips seeking forehead,
mind seeking heart
and hearts seeking love.

polite words collide in a world of sorrow,
and my cup runs over too.
there's only so much grief that one can bear
after which it flows over and falls to the floor,
where it is met by misery,
longing and loneliness
shock and sadness.

for it is always when i look down,
when i tear my eyes away
from the ocean of your blue,
when i tear myself away
from your hot embrace,
when i pull away
from your love,
that i see the world as it is.
misery, longing, loneliness,
shock and sadness. 

Together, like bone and blood

1.
For a single tear shed
washes away a hundred sins.
And all the tears I shed for you
Have become oceans of sorrow
In which I drown.


2.
For my soul has no shape
It does not breathe.
It does not wake to the rays of the sun,
Or shiver in the winter's cold.
For my soul has no shape
It does not tire.
It knows not what fatigue means,
Nor has it known unquenchable thirst.
For my soul has no shape
And it shall never walk through fire,
I surrender my body.
To end this pain,
To cleanse my sins,
To forget this cruelty,
And make me once more
Divine.


3.
I surrender my body
To ask that my soul become divine.
I surrender my love
To ask that you be mine.


4.
It is only by suffering through the pain
you inflict on me
that I can reach the divine absolute
of your love.


5.
Because mourning requires a recognition of grief. A measurement of how grief strikes the deep depths of the heart. But how shall we measure a grief that we neither see nor hold. How do we gather this grief, wrap it up in protective folds of cloth and store away for another day?
Because pain requires a recognition of the divine. A measurement of how the deep wounds elevate the soul towards the flight of sacrifice. Sacrifice that teaches us about love.
Because love requires a recognition of self. My blood on your hands. My grief in your eyes. My pain in your ears. My sacrifice in your love.

cry for me when you see me cry

"heaven 

shall be obligation

for he 

who tries

or cries 

for me."

as blood might gush 

from forehead to toes

and your sins are revealed

in the bright red hues 

flowing towards the unknown, 

my love for your suffering

shall set you free. 

as chains may whip open

your secrets from deep within

and the swords cut through

the layers of sins, bathed in eternal regret

my love for your suffering 

shall set you free. 

as blades of steel, sharp with mercy

release my soul from the depths of my pain

my body bears the truth of my suffering

and it shall set me free. 

tu ne veilles plus sur moi,
et tout va à l'enfer. 

broken mirrors

it's seven years
of bad luck, they say
to crack a mirror.
even when it lies.

you take one look
and look away.
you plant your feet firmly in the ground
and look up for a second look.
and it takes your breath away.
you gaze and marvel
wondering who this person is,
and who this person was.
you turn slightly to your left
because it's your photo angle,
without knowing that
things look different from the other side.

you look again and suddenly
you don't like it anymore.
it is cruel and heartless
and piercing where it hurts most.

you try and hide
but you cannot.
you try and forget
but how can you forget?

how will we ever forget?

you look one last time, and it's broken.
the cracks glisten and mock
and dare you to come closer.

who says what is broken
is broken forever?
the time shall come
when the mirror is whole again.

as for me,
i now believe
that the sum
of my parts
is greater than the whole.