Star Light

©MetaphoricVerb

Star light, star bright
Give courage to this dyke
To step up to the mic
& give these people something they would like
Bless her voice with the power of the engine of a motorbike
& let her voice intoxicate their senses, leaving them heady as if their drink she’d spiked

Soothing their core with the power of chamomile spice
Piercing them with bullets of words like well trained spies
& pray their attention does not die
Let her tell them the story of a child who does not cry
A perfectly healthy eagle which does not fly, a talented young girl who does not try.
Share with them the pain of an artist whose paint does not dry, of beautiful eyes with warts from sty
Let her with them share the sordid existence in a world which forces her to comply
Of crying out loud with no hope of a reply
Give her the power to simplify the hidden meaning of her words and amplify the voice from within
Let her exit from the stage signify a new revolution of the minds and dignify the presence of those who’ve always been held back
Give her the prowess to enchant and mystify, their love for the word to intensify
A child born of the arts let her to her congregation testify
Let not prying eyes her spirit terrify and mortify and the sting of her words modify.

Star light, star bright
Give courage to this dyke
To step up to the mic
& give these people something they would like
Give her the good mind to ride on the strong wind of success, let her truth let her access barred and closed doors and let her feed her audience’s spirits to excess
Leaving them drunk from the sheer intensity of it, doing stupid s**t like calling their exes, sending their bosses f**ck u faxes, and allowing their minds to be sharp as axes
Give her the balls to tell untold stories of little boys whose innocence is taken away at the front seat of lorries, of sorrys never said to the babies destined to grow up without a father, of glories unsung of the man of the cloth who genuinely loves God but who also loves another, man.
Tell them the story of Deloris born Boris, show them what poor is and help them to understand what war is.
Let her, bring healing to broken hearts, take away the sting from the cuts on the arms and the thighs of the woman who attempts to bleed her pain away, convince the boy with the noose around his neck to cut it loose and lean away from the bridge which will in no doubt leave his body in a fridge.
Let her, turn the frown on your face into a crown, let your glassy eyes show their brown and dance your way into the town, never again shall you let yourself down

3 comments

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…divine! Im truly intrigued.

/ Reply

The author of this piece is a truly talented writer…and we encourage people to write for the blog and share their thoughts…

/ Reply

trully amaizing piece. but more so, the chick down ther is SEX ON A STICK!!! OMG!
other wise, great piece…

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