Be your own...

Be your own guest - 

Walk to your own door 

Receive your self with the same passion

you would wait for the arrival of your lover.

Be your own sun

Bask in your own warmth

Feel your insides melt and embrace you

like melting in the hands of your lover.

Be your own moon

Waxing  in the madness of your being

Dance to your own tides as the rise and the fall

of you making love to your lover. 

Be your own muse

Inspire the corners of your mind to create

nurture, destroy and recreate like you would 

trip on the madness of your lover. 

Be your own cause

Fight, bleed, look fiercely in the eye of the storm

let nothing touch your reason to live for yourself

as you would die trying for the last breath of your lover. 

Be your voice

scream in your art, sing in your paintings, say it in silence 

say it exactly as you would mean it 

in every aching letter to your lover.

Be your own addiction 

increasing the dose with each day passing,

getting high on the possibilities of your being

an endless vessel you are compared to the finite depths of your lover.

Be your own God

worship the divinity in you, but do not fear the Shakti in you 

dance to the dervish in you as you would

bow down to your lover.

Be your your source 

of all the ecstasy, of all the pain-

be the cause and the healer as you should

be your own lover.

~ Ray  

Be your own...

Be your own guest - 

Walk to your own door 

Receive your self with the same passion

you would wait for the arrival of your lover.

Be your own sun

Bask in your own warmth

Feel your insides melt and embrace you

like melting in the hands of your lover.

Be your own moon

Waxing  in the madness of your being

Dance to your own tides as the rise and the fall

of you making love to your lover. 

Be your own muse

Inspire the corners of your mind to create

nurture, destroy and recreate like you would 

trip on the madness of your lover. 

Be your own cause

Fight, bleed, look fiercely in the eye of the storm

let nothing touch your reason to live for yourself

as you would die trying for the last breath of your lover. 

Be your voice

scream in your art, sing in your paintings, say it in silence 

say it exactly as you would mean it 

in every aching letter to your lover.

Be your own addiction 

increasing the dose with each day passing,

getting high on the possibilities of your being

an endless vessel you are compared to the finite depths of your lover.

Be your own God

worship the divinity in you, but do not fear the Shakti in you 

dance to the dervish in you as you would

bow down to your lover.

Be your your source 

of all the ecstasy, of all the pain-

be the cause and the healer as you should

be your own lover.

~ Ray  

Knot free

The hair was growing longer. Each strand was kissed by him. Each end of each split had so many roads to choose from. Chaos resonated from each wave. It had been about 365 days since no scissor had touched this head. After she met him and he had a head that mirrored hers, she thought she never would cut those strands ever again. Their heads together and formed a big heart of madness. In that kingdom of sweet smelling marijuana rhymes and rush hour on local train night times ~ with every time they came together they tangled in each other a little more. The strands held on so tight and pulled her down. Kept her feet on the ground. Together they weaved dreams of dreadlocks and hemp clothes. But they couldn’t escape the epidemic of the knots. She did not know when tangled become entangled. She did not know when sweet love turned into sweet pain. Yes pain can be sweet when you like cavities. Deep dark cavities you can hide secrets in. He invited himself out of her head as fast as he came in uninvited. Left with her own head she walked into the summer heat. The sun burnt, the sand kissed, the salt in the ocean ticked wounds. She kept walking on as her head got heavier. Without him her strands started to wither. Rough were the roads and rough became her hair. She would tie them up in oil and cream before she went to bed. But would wake up with them all out and scattered. They could not be tamed. Their madness was taking over her. And one day, she could not take it. She had to do it. So she did. Let a magician cut them away. Dead they lie waiting for him to come back and grow them back to life.