Princess Grade SchoolWhen someone's met in a new light,
Light is not always your friend.
Yes indeed, sometimes darkness
Can be your most intimate companions.
Sometimes those silly emo kids in high school were right.
Sometimes those peppy activist kids knew what they were saying, huh?
Maybe everyone does make it their way of life.
You know, tearing down the world chunk by chunk and stuff.
A couple of Lotharios can take those hearts by cruel tempest
Once they take their leave...
The cloud cover will gladly stay
Until your thoughts blow them away
Or perhaps until you bring them down to the ground
Where you can't see anyone
And no one will see you either.
But you. Are my black and white.
All that's normal and logical.
When I look to you,...
I discover all the good things
I thought the world would forever lack.
Lights FadeSashay on the clouds with anyone who mattered
whilst scurrying across these feet
glowing feelers to brush across the ground
reaching to touch whatever's left of above.
The neverending conversations
between the pot and the kettle
when tea was meant to SOOTHE
and soup was made to enjoy with others.
And where do I take it from there?
When do the rhymes leak from the crowd-pleaser's face?
How do animals turn the whip upon themselves
instead of baring teeth and pawing at the ground
depending on everyone else's quills, venoms, toxins
to save them?
If you believe I am daft to fear and look to a God,
let me see the logic drained from your pockets.
Reveal to me what makes other beings,
makes the world, makes me a dependable object.
Everyone's definition of everyone is
an anthology of opinion. I'm JUST SAYING.
If humanity is so starved of logic and loss of sight...
how come I'm the one called crazy and blind?
How come believeing in what you can't see is such an illogical application from me?
Shrinking SkiesFortunes, oh how they held. They took to me and held, so tight, with thickening wires. Favoured me and my sparkling time-traveller, they did. Up and aloft we'd stay. The Universe And Stuff And Nonsense gaped and swelled, but it seemed to be okay with it as it stood poised on Bolshevik fingertips itself. Dutifully taking to the outcast atmospheres, we'd spend a long time hiding and seeking. After a bit we'd go wandering stupidly about looking for each other, feeling hopeless. But wait! We'd whip around and find each behind the other and cry tears of joy into the cumuli below. Never did find out whether or not it rained as a result.
We occasionally played ninjas with the smaller clouds. They didn't know that, but that's always the point. Some of the clouds seemed to like watching us jump and hide in their plushy lumps, I'd occasionally tell one of them they looked terribly fluffy and they must cause a lot of amorous thunder in clouds of the opposite sex.