Ancient Love.

In the stone ages, I chased you for days,

hunted all the prey so we could make a home out of our cave.  

Prehistoric times could not even break my stride,

my only real concern was making sure we both made it out alive.  

Even though the threat of being eaten alive was always a factor,

with you by my side, nothing else really ever mattered.  

I was grateful every morning when the sun would rise,

our love story began in the land before time.

I drew pictures of us on walls so that future generations would know of our love,

with our children in your arms while my own held a club.  

As the days passed by, and we learned how to grow our own food,

I added smiles to their faces to properly reflect our moods.  

We had made it now that we could settle

and watch our boys grow into mesolithic men,

a connection this strong

could make it through any mass extinction.

We danced around the fire in worship of the gods,

the festival of Dionysus always left us awed.  

We laughed in merriment whilst watching comedies,

then consoled one another as we weeped during the tragedies.  

Inseparable even in Ancient Greece, we saw the rise of democracy,

then spent our nights drinking wine and debating philosophy.  

Nothing could come between our love, it would not even matter if you were a slave,

society could not change the fact that your olive skin was all I craved.  

Electricity fills the air, rumour has it that a prince is born,

Queen Maya's said to even have dreamt of a white elephant with six horns.  

We watched in awe as this boy aged into a fine and mighty prince,

who denounced his riches once he encountered his subjects’ suffering.  

I could understand his decision to leave his fortune and wealth behind,

for all I needed in this life was your presence by my side.  

Around the same time Gautama traded his riches for rags,

I was surrendering to our love, and raising my white flag.

When the Roman Empire claimed Egypt as its own,

I was there to quel your fears when Cleopatra was dethroned.  

Although her affair with Mark Antony is the original love story,

their romance could not hold a candle to the warmth between you and me.  

Walking hand in hand through the great pyramids with you,

was all it took for me to feel pharaonic and brand new.

We built our mud brick home along the Nile's fertile riverbank,

at night, we worship Geb for providing us with food and drink.  

Our ancient love survived the rise and fall of empires,
it saw the invention of the wheel and even fueled the first fire;
civilizations would never have collapsed if they knew the secret to our bliss,
no amount of time could erase a love like this.

Rapidcycling.

Dance of the drunk and dazed,
wide awake, as slumber slips away,
escaping through a crack in wooden wall,
floating in merriment down empty halls.

With spirits high, singing a sailor song,
soon the gentry will arrive, it won't be long.
Life is like a lullaby when seen through cloudy eyes,
feather light and floating in fleecy skies.

Just like a babe learning to use their feet,
toddle up and down childhood's familiar streets.
Nostalgia nears as life flashes releasing a sigh,
forgotten faces suddenly seem so nigh.

Memories rush in, crowding the room,
sweeping away the cobwebs that once loomed.
Day dreams as dusk paints the world pink and red,
once night falls, the children must be abed.

To innocence we once again return,
free from worry or concern;
fast asleep before the lights are dim,
in peace, at last, life becomes a phantom limb.

Dictator.

Disparaged my weakest,

violated my nation’s most chaste,

vandalized its buildings,

and pillaged then raped. 

Your fascism ruined through

demoralizing others with your scrutiny,

sending their confidence careening

until all they had left was insecurity. 

Claimed to care about your people

though all they looked like to you were dollar signs,

capitalized on their losses
every time you attacked from behind. 

You were the Chairman of China,

or Hitler, sometimes Stalin,

with more kills than Genghis Khan

or Napoleon’s armies. 

You ruled like Caligula;

man, woman, nor beast were safe,

calculatedly divided unions

creating separate states.  

Abandoned all reason,

you committed senseless murders for fun;

threatened your people with execution

if they dared to run. 

Your thirst for blood was not slaked

until your body count was more than one million,

your bloodline may be insane

but there can only be one Kim Il-Sung. 

Should anyone fail to revere

their supreme leader,

your minions would toss them

into the Taedong River.

No weapon was too mighty,

missiles, gases, nor grenades,

death by hanging will end your reign,
similar to Saddam Hussein.

You delighted in violence,
just like Vlad the third,
impaled all your victims,
then bathed in their blood.

A name like yours is

solely synonymous with genocide,
you were mean like Mugabe,
with Idi Amin’s pride.

Only you would attempt to minimize murder
by renaming it the Red Terror,
it was evident in every failed assassination attempt
that you were more vile than Vladimir Lenin.

Similar to Enver Pasha’s addiction to power,
instead of being ashamed for being a coward,
you wiped out two million to compensate for each loss,
without stopping once to consider the actual cost.

Simply put, you were the worst dictator unleashed on mankind,
without you, history would not have fallen so far behind
The clearest consequence of your sick, criminal mind
is that your "eye for an eye" ideology made the whole world blind.

Concerto.

Hold me against your body,
run your fingers along my magic strings,
turn each stroke into a haunting melody,
strum away my pain and make me sing.

Gently press your lips against me,
wet them and then softly blow,
with each exhale, I let out a sigh,
then slowly lose control.

Whether you’re an amateur,
or the maestro of the symphony,
the music we make is a consequence
of our classical chemistry.

Pretend I am a piano,
let your fingertips dance wildly on my ivory keys,
silence your suffering with moonlit sonatas,
finesse me with my very own Fur Elise.

Now blow into me with all your might,
let me blare like trumpets and French horns,
empty your lungs into my own,
then listen proudly as I fill every corner of the room.

Count the beats and keep the tempo,
when you bang me like a drum.
Smash into me like cymbals,
swaying in vibrato to the rhythm.

When you’re feeling blue,
cradle me like a saxophone,
let my sweet jazz soothe your sorrows,
until you remember you are not alone.

Whether you prefer the balalaika,
the sitar or the mandolin,
your hands will always know
the right notes to play on my violin.

Slide your bow across my bodice,
seduce me with its soft skin,
your musicality never fails to amaze me,
every note in consonance.