The Perfect Storm…

The elements are churning in the wind,
Convincing evey little whim to stay in,
To stay hiddden till everything wins,
The struggle with a ferocious wind.
The minds are yearning,
Begging impression from the glares of genius,
Petting depression from the eyes of venus,
To set in beauty from her journey,
Prepare her for a party,
To attend to bull and belching,
Before everyone starts clinging by the ear,
To hear,
The story that is the peril of man,
How they struggle to paint her,
How they croak their voices to sing,
How even some, write to charm her…

They are the perfect storm,
Who change taste and feeling so easily,
They are tormented by their want of me,
Am only beauty,
But the poet still insists on words,
Gangsters still insist on guns,
Want to buy me things,
Expensive little nothings,
Yet they forget their hearts,
Cold crevices within them,
Leaking that what makes me,
Am beauty in them…
Am beauty within.
A perfect storm stirring,
Winding like the clock,
Rising early like a cock,
To make the first impression.

The perfect storm in their eyes,
What stories they have had to tell,
Just to get me in their spell,
Play show and tell.
Am only beauty,
But this man,
This girl,
Show me fury…
Don’t they see what’s begun
Is a perfect storm within.