you were my muse
the griot of my vanquished history
the crescent of my fertility
the flint struck upon the rolling stone
the rosetta in my missing codes

love, you were my muse
the raconteur of my much repeated stories
the auctioneer and owner, of treasured tomes
the playwright who knew both nadir and denouement
the table of contents in an old weathered edition

querido, you were my muse
the string plucked on the scarred instrument
the note that echoed in my barren chambers
the premier danseur in a ballet, for two
yes, baby, you were my muse

you were also the bell jar that cracked, when I fell
leaving
me
alone
and
broken
amidst
all
the
sparkly
insignificant
shit

by vee ghozlan aka butterflynxile

art - http://images.vghozlan.multiply.com/image/1/photos/upload/orig/Ryf5gQoKCo8AAG4iBxs85/1.jpeg?et=LPBxf8huV7%2CauiQoAstHxw

a new poem to piss someone off, *shrugs shoulders*

he sits in the front
periodically catching my eyes in his
rear-view mirror
nods and smiles
politely asking for directions
in his precise accented english
fingering my star of david
i surreptitiously eye the turban
and his black skin

as the scenery flashes by
the brain compares this hardworking man
to the words that nightly flash across my tv screen
jihadist terrorist muslim fundi insurgents
all three billion of them
idly
i wonder why christian fundi or jewish fundi
does not elicits such fear
their histories are equally bloody
my cabdriver
has no knowledge
of the thoughts that are in my mind

we arrive at my home
with payment and tip
in his very human hands
graciously he thanks me

i have survived a muslim-jewish encounter
just two exhausted hard workingmen
linked by a ride
in a taxi
a new paradigm, in a new land

vee ghozlan aka butterflynxile

art - http://images.vghozlan.multiply.com/image/1/photos/upload/orig/Ryf5gQoKCo8AAG4iBxs235/1.jpeg?et=OSfB2l3BtE6NwCneHYi6JQ