beastly

the republic tigers are coming
prowling son, intimate at your heels,
like the wind rushes at your back,
pushing you forward before it kills.

and the nerve of these beasts!

like the Grimm villains they are,

holding the taste of poison in apples

blooming like the seeds of the core.

the lions are coming,  oh here they come,

the lions are coming. 

so say you will take a drop,
fall in waterfalls when prayers fell you
take the sky and turn to the moon
water's deep, so plunge in soon.

i remember when your veins poured

black blood like the river at mid noon

take a shot, and call the time of death,

before you try to save me too.

the tigers are coming. oh here they come.

-

i don't know what this is about. and I don't really like it. maybe what i meant to write will come back to me and I can edit this into something decent. 

if i died young.

I'm young and green.

I'm still trying to anchor my roots into the earth. I still thirst for the cool puddle of water, aching to taste something. I still reach for my ray of sunlight, so that my shadow will make an imprint on the world. I'm still eager, eager. But I had a thought today, of how it would be if I died young.

I want the day of my ceremony to be a cloudless rain, with the humid summer air covering the earth in a soft and gentle blanket. I want my people to stand outside in the rain without umbrellas, looking up at the sky, with the gentle drops of rain on their bare and naked faces. With their eyes closed, let the summer sweet rain fall, like gentle kisses from me. Remind them that this weather, this lovely beautiful warm caressing rain, is a day I would love.

I don't want anything grand or overdone. I want a love song at dawn, I want a candle on the river in the soft glow of twilight,  and my oh my, I want you to smile.