A Scratch

My kingdom is here
No where
And I’m still the queen of questions
The mark that anything can remove
And there I put my ethereal crown
Where I can’t see
Where you don’t know
Keep on reading my books
And I’ll keep reading them my way
I’m still there
Don’t try to catch a wisp of light
Words are more meaningful
More silent
And darker than a braid
Of an ancient goddess
Who chose, to vehemently retire.

Ever thought why we’re so thrilled to look?
We’re always scared of extremes
When fancy is our only reality
I laugh, yet you’ve never realized
I’m wider than a momentary curve
That riddles the whim you don’t know about
But extraordinarily feel.
Let’s simply laugh
Sip what we have in our cups
Dip in the silence of overcrowded streets.

What’s wrong with an oriental woman
Wearing a lip ring?
What’s wrong with a goddess dispersed?
Inconsistent with passions, history and sheets?
I look at my thick mirror
And see nothing but a story telling a myth
Of an ancient goddess
Who carried fire and water in one hand
And created the world’s masterpieces
With the second
Within a second.

Shall we dance?
Music carries the capacity of creation
And creep with us to the core of passiveness
Where imagination, becomes a chewed theme.
I scratch the windows
To write my notes on the fog and send them
To an oriental goddess
Who would create me.