Like He Said

I feel completely out of place
among these fools, this human race,
who mock their souls and immitating
godliness they procreate

But I see no heaven here

No sacred angels magic wings,
no grand scheme to the scope of things,
just people selling sex and dreams
and all for a two-drink-minimum

I crawl beneath my thin, pale skin
from all the sinful acts of men
who preach to me of right and wrong
while they, themselves, cannot be strong

For I cannot comprehend
why evil lurks in hearts of men
But I'll tell you this, my friend

I'm tired of being human

©Catryce

The Real Thing I'm here to clear up a few things the media's told you (because I know you've bought everything that they've sold) First of all, men are not "visual creatures" our eyes work the same and so do our brains I look at you and see you're a person I expect you to view me the same Secondly, this lingerie thing just what are you thinking about? What if you were expected to wear sleazy clothing with your private parts hanging out? "Oh, baby...I just can't get excited unless you wear a g-string and pout" And this pornography that you're into movies and Playboy and such What if women were only aroused while viewing twelve inches when touched? I'm here to tell you that you have been programmed by each magazine on the rack Not just the ones in which women are naked no, it's much more expansive than that Look at the covers of Cosmo and Glamour that's not the way real women are We're not imaged-enhanced pieces of paper We're not computer-enhanced movie stars We're real flesh and blood we're warm and instinctive and we expect you to honor our roles We're your sisters and daughters, nieces and mothers in which all humanity grows We carry and labor, raise up our children try to teach them respect before giving them wings We have morals and values we try hard to instill to keep out what the media sings But our kids are bombarded with sexual cues some that hide in most innocent form Like the bimbos called Barbie, cartoons and comics and by unsuitable clothing that's worn Please, won't you listen, and take this to heart your women have low self-esteems For we can't compete with computer graphics or silicone-bred beauty queens We want you to love us the way that we are... perfect, natural, and pure for only real women are true goddesses who hold love strong enough to endure So, gentlemen, if you need an image I suggest that you imagine this Think how you'd feel if women were paper or how plastic would feel to your lips You know, deep inside, you want something authentic and all the joys that validity brings so don't settle for less that the genuine product I am woman and I'm the real thing ©Catyce

Five Eyes

Spring hopped in
the temperature of melted ice
with tie-vines and tulips
teeming towards the door
It was sweet outside
intoxicating, fragrant
green blades all shooting for the sky
The ground, itself, was supple
easily packed in palms
taking the shapes of cakes and cups

She was five, then
quickly seeing the world in wonder
fast to believe in seeds of love
When you're five
you can believe in anything
Anything

©Catryce

Cat Scan Some feline intervention might save you from conviction with all her humble purring in the dark But when the game is finished and your heart has been diminished it's her claws that scar to leave her mark And although you've felt the fumble of that cat's majestic rumble that made your heartbeat quiver in the night Soon you'll know the tragic that transcending feline magic that eludes the softest kiss with sharpened bite And even if you love her you must never lie above her for her silky coat will lead your soul astray Then you'll think you want to keep her as her claws, still sinking deeper start tearing your reality away ©Catryce

Pakarat

You live in a world where pain is expected
where there's ever an outline of stress in the air
Your glasses and cups are kept half-way empty
You're always ungrateful, unfulfilled, unprepared
You rationalize for spinning in idle
A perpetual fiend on the endless treadmill
And all of the clothes that you hide in your closet
seem so unfitting since you've lost your appeal
Upon your front door, a list of excuses
a number of reasons to remain in your house
Where you bask in the dimness of forty-watt light bulbs
eat the cheese from the trap someone set for a mouse

If I were you, I'd move to the country
crawl up from the floorboards and start a new life

But I'm only me, an obedient rodent
the maker of shadows and a submissive wife

©Catryce

Losing Face She was trapped downstairs with horizontal inclinations her jeans, always tighter from the inside The photo of her lover grew long in her pocket covered her assets with the stories he told But she was undaunted by lyrics and fables removing herself from the lines that he sold She’d been there before in smoke-colored barrooms listening intently to gloating egos Unzipping herself in back room apartments where the lights from the street cast an ominous glow She strips herself of commitments and marriage takes on all the masks she can wear as her own Becomes all the things that sweet dreams are made from yet, less of herself with the more that she shows ©Catryce