Sylvia Stout

@ShoutAtStout

With Love

growing up is hard because
life is what you make it
is it real or are we faking?
trying to remember what’s at stake

when it all lies before you
just ripe for the taking
decisions just ripe for the making
knowing time can’t unwind
if you’re mistaken
remember this rhyme
so don’t be miss taken
don’t be mr. mothafuckinfaking, cus

love can be cruel
life can be short
greed can try to rule
and power can be lorded
over you, so

keep ya clues
keep your faith
keep the blues
keep the lake
keep your friends and your family safe
by being you, doing what you do, fearless
smile at a lost soul even if they scream danger
don’t be earless, don’t be eyeless, don’t be voiceless
but don’t become a stranger
in a land you once favored, so

dance with the boys and
laugh with the girls
cry with the ones who’ve lent their shoulder,
whose cup runneth over with laughter
seems solely the clowns can capture
the depth of a butterflies well
joyfully, they cry; “there is no hell”

we don’t fear, we love,
we don’t run, we love,
we don’t shrink, we don’t shrug,
we give thanks and praise to up above
With Love, we love.

A. Gibson said it best
She was put to the test and said,
“life doesn’t rhyme.”

She was right.

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The Fire Is The Test

Life is long, and it’s only getting longer
It might not kill you, but it hurts to get stronger
All that fear; refuse to let it linger
I’ll be your release, baby
But you gotta pull the trigger
While it’s true, I might be wrapped around your finger
I’ve got you in my palm, baby, tell me- which is bigger?
No matter what you choose, sugar
I’ll always ask you how you figure
How you figure me out?
How do you figure me out?
A clever little lioness, ferocious avocation
Intolerant of cowardess, avid collaborator
Contribute to the coalition of united flavor
Favoring the underdog in its collective fervor
That’s the genesis, beginning, the creator
Of all ideas that will come later,
Future ideations, iterations, I’m the prayer
I’m the sinner, and I’m the savior

I own my own perverse behavior, and
I own my own divine nature-
God, guru, and self; just antiquated nomenclature
If I’m the sculptor, you’re the heat to my clay
Break me down, make me move every which way
I’ll take my shape in the wake you’ve left
The kiln in my heart; the fire is the test x3
Life is long, and it’s only getting longer
It might not kill you, but it hurts to get stronger
All that fear; refuse to let it linger
I’ll be your release, baby
But you gotta pull the trigger
While it’s true, I might be wrapped around your finger
I’ve got you in my palm, baby, tell me- which is bigger?
No matter what you choose, sugar
I’ll always ask you how you figure…
How you figure me out?
How do you figure me out?

Seep

the scenery changes, but the view remains-

tangled tree limbs stake their claim

and dig their roots deep; sunken in the pit of the beast,

 

they creep…seep…

 

an epidemic inception, they reap

the harvest of the toxins, we keep

ingesting the garbage, we keep investing

in tomorrows bubonic infection,

no regard for this chronic rejection

of the healing tonic- possession

of the truest logic- Progression.

 

stark naked, a lesson

in her bare-est form, in her rarest form- a sonnet;

with the metronome of a marching band, she’s on it.

 

 

Masquerade

She’d rip the moon in two…
half for her and half for you.
watch the light illuminate your laugh,
while shadows leap and dance;
wild like fire and slow like honey…
dripping with anticipation,
not unlike the fresh paint which struggles 
to conceal her darkest secrets.
casting layer upon layer with dire urgency,
only the hardest truths to keep show through…
bend like bright refracted light,
through the prism long ago shattered;
succumbing to her own masquerade,
she’s bruised but never broken;
distraught but not discouraged…
a love to withstand the eager hour glass,
seemingly sinking with the sands of time…
she finds salvation not a moment too soon;
for all she had to do,
was turn her entire life upside down…

Moon

Three seasons Moon has been alone.

The winter after Autumn left was cold in its solitude.
Months he waited, still she hid.
spring brought hope only for the rain…
He imagined his lover’s familiar caress.
daring not to forget…
The hot summer nights became plagued with memories

of a time when the whole landscape changed colors in her honor
the air cooled to exhalt her
the tide rose to meet her

he was still alone, longing

he had fallen for Fall.

But she had always come back…
Unwilling to end their eternal love affair
she arrived at last,

ushered in on the wings of the wind,
she stripped leaves from trees a hundred years old
without a sound, with no need for touch…
just a gentle hush whispers
of an unstoppable machine

so powerful, she makes Moon hang his head low in the sky
eyes wide, breathing her name…
vying to be closer to her, he dotes,
scrawling love notes on the walls of his heart

he’s frozen,
suspended mere inches from her horizon.
their future written in the wrinkles of his face
he pines for her harvest…

their time together is much too ephemeral
exceedingly visceral and
poetically chemical

Their ending is always the same.
unabashedly honest,
He never wanes…
away with Time she will flee, but
never tragically…

Autumn always comes back.

Dawn Breaks

trying to imagine you is like
taking a picture of a sunrise in a mirror; solely glare
so far removed, it’d be a mere copy of a replica
you are only burning bright

your lips taste like the fruit of knowledge
without the price
sin, without the penitence…
kisses only sweet

your whispers float like the breath of angels
dancing, suspended
the siren’s call to my weary ears
a future written in dissappearing ink

your skin sings a tale of redemption
soft and inviting
morning dew gathers perched upon her petal
i can trace my salvation in the crooks of your palm.

your absence smells of lilacs caught naked,
battered and bruised in a spring mornings’ soft rain
subtle yet unmistakable
this fragile strength

dawn breaks with her heart