The clock strikes midnight,
The glasses are raised.
Lovers consume each other,
Amidst the confetti haze.
Here he comes now,
Eyes alight with hunger.
As if he's found a treasure chest,
His greedy mouth can plunder.
Time's not on his side,
And neither am I.
This minute isn't ours,
I don't think pigs can fly.
I'd rather have a love,
That surpasses 60 seconds.
I'd rather begin my new year,
Without a make-out session.
Farewell two-thousand fifteen,
Usher in the big one-six.
I'll kiss Jack Daniel himself,
And pray the minute hand ticks.
Old Man Rio
Old Man Rio, why such tears of sorrow?
Sorrow? What do you know of sorrow?
I have drunk from the inner ovens of your sun
and played on the feathery tendrils of midnight lightning
My song echoes distant among ghostly hypergiants
of the celestia
I twirl The Great Flat Earth on a single digit
while my warm breath spins a hurricane over the high seas
So I say again: What do you know of sorrow?
The tears I weep created the great Pacific pool
in which I swim and dive and feast
Silver rivulets fall from my countenance and seed
the heavenly rivers and streams of the north and south
These tears of what you call sorrow run blood red
among the craggy masses of land so enriched with my iron
No, my young earthling, mine tears know no sorrow
Only the dreams and fantasies and promises of your tomorrow
there's a street in my city
where the rich kids go get high
broken minds and scorched hearts
sometimes just teens without knowing why
they all meet over there
and strip their souls bare
you can find me among them
lost and blinded by the smoke
trying to forget all the pain
before coming back home
Grenade (by Bruno Mars) - Don’t dedicate a song to me, then leave.
You say you'd catch a grenade for me? Say you'd put your head on a blade for me? That's funny. I'm busy dodging grenades that you're throwing at me. Skipping through fields of land mines, in hopes to find relief. Maybe you could take your head off the blade, and put your heart on your sleeve. Because, when we meet, my physique speaks "magnifique." That's why you chose to drop me, but my...friendship to keep. Sticking my heart in your pocket as you sit and watch me weep. Watch me weep. Watch me weep.
Hurts? Work harder.
- If you think I'm over it you're terribly wrong. This is my self defence system. Hurts? Work harder.
- The way you act it's like nothing ever happened.
- Because it's easier. I spent a lot of time trying to make it go away. It didn't work so I started pretending it did and soon I got used to it. That's the scariest thing a human being can do... getting used to it.
- So you still miss him?
- Every night has his name on it. When my throat feels like it's closing up it's because I need that strenght he used to give me, especially now that everything's so fucked up.
- But then why didn't you reach for him?
- Because then I close my eyes and I picture him saying those things to me face to face... "Stupid girl... go to hell. Don't dare talk to me again." So I don't dare. Who knows how much his answer could hurt if I did...
- You don't need him.
- I never did. But yet I did. I never will. But yet I always will.
live and let live
she walks into the middle
of a crowded room;
the room is silent for a moment
she begins to dance
to music only she can hear in her heart
her fiancé watches her body
glisten in the light
admiring how one girl can stop time
another man sees her too
he is watching her body for a
and when she is finished he follows her
and slips a small capsule
into her drink
twenty four hours later
in the hospital room
her fiancé is told she died
without any pain
her body rejected the poison
and she slipped into a coma
for his fallen angel
he only wishes he would have
danced with her
on their wedding day
just one more time
"life is short" is not an excuse
to hurt others to get what you want.
[Dedicated to Jasmine, who died this weekend after being poisoned at a dance, and her fiancé, family and friends who love her very much]
With regards to the good cry
It never happens the way you see it in movies- the long soliloquy of tumbling words followed by the quiet sobs.
No, it's more likely to be
words are cut off
at the top of the throat
words stopped up
with crying jags
like cotton stuffing
in a soda pop bottle
that's been shaken
and nearly poured out.