'feminism' 'women' 'goddess' 'nature'
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We fell through the crust by our own choosing. Cracking, beneath our boots, and with a clamour We disappeared. You are angelic
and the sun couldn’t hold me if they couldn’t touch me. and they knew how much i ached. and they wanted to get to know me but i was never awake.
and the sun asked me, “do you ache, my love?” and we both knew the answer we both knew i had waited hours to see them,
Nurture the woman That you see before you Absorb her beauty Feed her soul, Watch her grow.
As I sit and write, try to put down in words.I look outside at the state of the world.I have nothing to say, nothing positive to comment.As were choked and drowned by man-made torment.Running out of ideas so we break and tear, all of our insecurit
I saw the treasure and domination of my gender Ohh, how I mourned feminist. Oh dear, i shall follow your step rough hands from cooking
But loving you was night: Glimmering stars amongst a black canvas. Unable to see, only to feel Fear and panic, Lust and anger, Uncertainties that questioned if the sun would rise.
Blue are the eyes, cold. Wait for the ocean to roar; She will be the moon.
I love them all. Poe, King, Lovecraft, Lennon, McCartney, Morrison, Leary, Cobain, Shelly, Streep. The real artists of their crafts. I know they were not all perfect but have you noticed all the men in my list?
'mother nature gives me life,raising me out of this wet soil.From just a root, my limbs grow -every detail painted with pure precision. I've stood strong for years and years,
She has eyes like a Tiger Long thick hair flowing down her back Her body was perfect like a hourglass Her touch is so soft Her Love is pure
A tree tries to grow on a battlefield of men, Filled with greed, the soldiers attempt to break the tree, They yank and pull on her branches and they burn her leaves, But her roots are deep,
Damp grass between our toes Barefoot in the soft earth We danced to the sound of the moon You told me tales of wild women Bound to an endless hunt