Aching Love Affair


Your sorrow is a memory to me.

Deja vu of a moment long passed.

When you looked like summer days but tasted like fresh rain.

You are days spent indoors, consuming books and listening to water splatter against glass.

How can resistance sound so soothing?

Even in it’s forceful actions water flows, like your anxious words in my ear asking if I still love you.

You knew, I looked like the falling showers of autumn leaves and felt like winter’s chill.

You say, opposites attract but sometimes they are just calamities.

Two forces destroying each other, no matter how good their intentions are.

You say, you were born in the blistering heat, You need my icy climate, to spare you some relief.
You don’t know that all wars started with the best intentions.

I’m not violent but we seem to clash.

Its not really love if you don’t understand. if our hearts don’t resonate like the strings on a violin, in a sad warn harmony.

There is something we are missing, and we can’t seem to reach a balance.

You burn too fast, I simmer too slow.

You draw to a halt, and I speed pass to go.

It feels like we are in different dimensions, within the same moment.

Doppelgangers, that follow each other like shadow selves.

Never really touching each other within one life.

Yet, always together,, always entwined between space.

So close but ultimately apart.

Almost not real at all.

Spirits haunting each other, trying to touch each other’s lives, trapped within our own death’s.

We keep moaning, maybe in the next life.

Holding on tight, in case it ever comes.

It seems eternity is against us, along with our love.

 

 

 

© Zianna Libardo Valexia Valtero, 2016

 

 

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Ghouls


It vexes me to have burnt my lips upon yours, just for curiosities sake;

second degree burns and blistered sensitivity

as if I am some novelty , you decided appealed to you.

You tell me to love you because you can’t hold yourself together;

as well as I appear to be holding myself,

tightly bound and cruelly gagged.

As if I am just some map, to find where you lost yourself

because you can’t escape your woes, and my lips look like relief.

Well, there is no salvation in me,

 My desires are savage beasts, that snap their jaws and salivate at your careless naivety.

Feral, incoherent, impetuous creatures that claw and seek.

My stomach collapses with the raging hunger of brutish violence,

I am a bottomless pit of pillage and dessert.

I am the phantom demon, you tell ghost stories of in the dark

to tremble in your skin and liven your heart.

I will possess your unconsciousness and nightmares will have no significance,

for I will overwhelm your presence with my absolutely tormenting splendor.

I say unto you, keep your soggy affections,

dripping with tainted tears.

I’m not as lonely as I seem,

nor am I as giving as you need.

Not when these ghouls follow me.

 © Zianna Libardo Valexia Valtero, 2016

Know Your Happiness


Never live or love for temporary happiness
We live in a consumerist and capitalist environment
Our nature’s repel against these delusions of grandeur
Our intuition sings out the nourishment of the soul and these artificial lifeforms can’t sustain us
Our souls need fresh spring water without chemical plastic
Our souls need love like the strong cleansing aroma of mud and evergreen
What they sell like magicians are smoke screens and mirrors
The true master performs miracles beyond farthing and imagination
The Tao creates worlds, universe’s, and galaxies.
There is nothing that they can create or supply you with that does not already exist
That isn’t already provided for health and nurture
The Essence gives all then gives more in an everlasting overwhelming stream
And if you are looking, you will see The Essence looking back
All this economy is folly
Nature is divine truth
Drink deep Its abundance and be well
Blessed be.

 

© Zianna Libardo Valexia Valtero, 2016

Sacrosanct Beautitude


There is no feeling more satisfying than being of nourishment to another’s soul.  To be like water to the lost and thirsty.  To truly be gifted with the privilege to care for another’s most precious possession,  their being,  is the most sacred experience once can ever know.  It is cleansing to one’s soul,  to experience the healing of another’s,  and in extension the healing of one’s self.  There is no higher honor than being entrusted with another’s heart. There’s no greater blessing than the ability of compassion.

 

 

 

© Zianna Libardo Valexia Valtero, 2016

She


She is the earth,  I’m in awe wandering

Her body is land and water,  sacrosanct

I swim in her depths,  unfathomable

Her breast are mountains, breathtaking

Her lips are volcanos, stunning all in her path

Her eyes are glaciers, striking

Her tears are the hot springs I bath in,  rejuvenating

Her fingers are flowers,  delightful

Her hair are the tall fields of grass, soothing

Her voice is the wind,  language of the soul

Her cum is the nectar of divinity,  abundance

Bury me in fields of flowers

Let my corpse be nourishment to your beauty

And let your daisies trace along my spine

As I become stones in your meadows

Deeply rooted in your soil

 

 

© Zianna Libardo Valexia Valtero, 2016

 

 

An Act of Violence


It really bothers me when people tell me that I shouldn’t do something because of my female sex.  It doesn’t matter if it comes from a genuine place of concern.  It’s not my pride or the injury to my intelligence.  It’s the blatantly accepted ignorance,  that comes pouring out of the mouth of propaganda fed fools.  Don’t insult me or yourself.  It’s doesn’t matter what color or sex I am,  or what I do.  An act of violence is an act of violence.  It will come whether you go about life or not.  Do you honestly think your words or your concern will blanket me with safety? Do you think your words will excuse you from the cycle of violence?   Your ignorance contributes to it like a bubonic plaque.  Your very unconsciousness is an act of violence against me. So,  when you warn me,  against doing something because of this vagina between my legs,  and how people view it as a weakness; you remember,  you are one of those people. You can’t warn me from violence, you contribute to it,  with your mentally and lack of forethought.  You fear for my well being,  no,  fear yourself.  I came out out of the womb soaked in the placenta of danger.  Blood is no foreign scent to me.  I bleed every month.  I was born into it.  Blood is my birthright,  and violence the legacy passed unto me by my species.  Don’t force your fears onto me.  Don’t assault me with your insecurities.  No one ever said life was safe.  Being male and white,  won’t protect me either.  Nothing will protect us.  There is nothing to defend ourselves from.  We are the weapons.  We are the violence.  We are the spilling of blood.  Think on that next time you coddle me with your  self-doubt.  How is your lack of awareness harming us all?

 

 

 

 

 

© Zianna Libardo Valexia Valtero, 2016