i think that is what god must look like

two tiny slivers of moonlight

escaped and hid in the darkest of places

each emerging out tucked safely and soundly

in the blood and the guts of two sisters

the oldest girl named for flowers

drooping buds of beauty on bushes

the younger girl named of aromatic leaves

wove together and sat on the head of royals

both girls able to heal and love and shine

and they did

singing songs as the sunlight hit their eyes

proudly and loudly singing into dreamland

they would dance and whirl and twirl

each owning a fascination with the magically mundane

raindrops, stars, two story houses, glitter and lipstick

a love affair with pencils that gibran couldn’t capture

but nothing stays the same, the ebb and flow

even when you are wrapped in moonlight

everything moves, spins, twists, goes

when the singing stopped and stories started

stories of monsters and evil, depravity, lechery

compassion was pointed in the wrong direction

two girls who would never be girls again

naked, exposed and alone, mask making for survival

when life hands you lemons, you make lemonaid

what the fuck happens when life hands you junk

melt it down and live the only way you can

i hope one day two daughters of the moon

will laugh from deep within and sing off key

twirl until they’re dizzy and dance like no one is watching

when i talk to the celestial sisterhood, begging vehemently

i ask the two be granted something long denied, much deserved



One comment

  1. (P.I.S.) Punx In Solidarity · January 25, 2015

    Would Love A Guest Poem In My STAMINA Zine Series!


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