I Want to Know
So much I need to learn,
So much I want to know.
A Siren Song, learning is,
a comely lass indeed.
Gift of Words I hold in my heart.
A touch with logic I do confess.
Art and Science,
Craft and Skills:
These I have aplenty, yet
Like a drowning man I
wish for the feel of spring upon
my parched throat.
Where would I go,
What is it I would know?
Music, song, psychology:
Latin, Hebrew, philosophy.
In all and none magic resides,
and all together forms my light.
I need to learn,
I want to know.
Will you teach me?
I await your answer.
Mockingbird
Silly, dumb, stupidity, moron, idiot:
These are words of hate and ignorance
And these, just the tip.
I've been called worse. I'm sure you have too.
If words are power,
If words can convey,
Why use them for hate and distain?
Because we enjoy it.
Pain and injury natural friends for humanity.
Think on past tormentors and see
if one did not giggle with glee
at your pain?
Then tell me I am wrong.
Forget higher impulses.
Remember your Beast.
Don't fight it - you can't win.
In the end, it's all for naught.
Join in the dance ecstatic
Howl the Song of Pain.
Use your birthright, your legacy.
That's what a little bird told me.
Possibility
The Wind's a'flowin through my fingers,
life's gifts are in my time.
The land my mother cradles me
as her many creatures, my sibs,
do come out to dance
in the evening's peace
even though
It's
past
My Bedtime.
The Wind's aflowin through my fingers,
Whispering a story of old;
of dragons and warriors brave and bold.
Dancing on the knife's edge
Like a candle flame am I~
I am a fey child,
so my mother says:
my human mother.
The Wind's a'flowin through my fingers,
And, for the first time, that's not enough.
Today, I met the Others
Those with whom I will be with
for twice the time I have
existed.
They don't like me.
They think I'm strange.
I can see the hate in their eyes.
It doesn't bother me.
It's the hole in their spirits that scares me the most.
The Wind's a'flowin through my fingers,
but now is not the time.
It's too bothersome to listen
to something that denies
my existence.
I mean,
I know my friends like me:
not use me, right?
I know that while bad things happen,
not to my world, right?
I don't need complications:
I need a car, some money,
a lover or two...
I'm only a kid: no, I'm an adult.
It's time for me to stop listening.
I'm older now, although it doesn't seem to matter.
My world hasn't grown all that much.
Yes, I'm doing okay,
for a failed life and no hope.
I chose... that which others wanted
and forgot
Myself.
Sometimes, if I listen hard,
I can feel my mother call to me
calling me to return.
I never listen. It's too late I think.
But sometimes, I think...no, it wouldn't:
But sometimes, with my child:
The Winds come a'flowin through my fingers.