Tag: poems

and let me tell you a secret, love: if you were really as cruel and terrible and loveless as you think you are, you wouldn’t try and work so hard and do everything to be as kind as you just proved yourself to truly be.

cruelty never doubts itself.

so don’t allow your kindness to do so.

how dare you, they say,
we are who you owe
we gave you this life
and ours is your soul

how dare you not listen
how dare you not care
what our mouths want to see
what our ears want to hear
who are, who were you, how came you to be
to stand here before us, too strange and too free?

so there I stand
in silence alone
watch crowding wrath
of dark-martyred bones
their flock falters, shatters, fool’s gold to stone
and my song echoes: I am my own home

moami

A story is a story is just a story.

True. And more false than anything.

Our fairy tales and legends, our myths and harbingers and endings, all the ink-whispering hope against our eyes and ears, they cannot be broken into anything less than proud, wild stories.

And, more than anything, a story is never ‘just’ this or ‘just’ that.

It is everything, and it allows us to become.

Change doesn’t mean that it’ll get better.

There is no almighty prophecy of good times. Maybe there won’t be the light at the end of the tunnel that you’ve been promised over and over. And possibly, you won’t even get a glimpse of what you hoped for.

Change is just a chance. Nothing more, and oh, take this one to heart: certainly no less.

Are you day or night? they ask me sweetly
Are you silver or gold? they want to know
Storm or silence, they nudge none-gently
Earth or sea, where do you grow

Come on, you have to decide, it’s easy either
Or never nor
But never as
Well as – so, go ahead
We must know
Only one
Can be yours
Can be true and can be you

I ask back I ask why
We need to know
Because all life
Means one thing is not another
Either sister none or brother

So I say yes
And I say no
Since oh you see those wicked souls
Are sometimes
Neither
Both