Balancing the Dichotomy

She wanes away my pitiful insecurities with a wisp of air into my ear’s canal, 

Opening my mind to a lucidity which lacks the ability to lie about my own luminations

An early tendency so banal it could only ever be heeded by my mother

She occasionally requites this maternal role as interpreter of my much needed soliloquy

Though deliberately refraining from the act of mimicking,

She merely reads my mind with the flame of a lemon-lime pantomime

And highlights my chronic discomfort in being smothered

These, the parallels which link two feminine figures of mine

Layering over the malign shade of green which often taunts me

With her streaks of yellow which bind what is otherwise unraveling

She becomes a loyal lamentation of my missing influx of matriarchy

Filling the gaps between the myriad of boundaries I travel in

Bidding adieu my overarching perspective of gloom, 

She leaves in its absence a more desirable hue

One which cannot chip away the contents already therein

But will mask what I cannot help offsetting with blue

Leo

My mom used to read me Chicka Chicka Boom Boom

Sending onomatopoeias flying with fiery intention

Her facial structure weaving with distinctive flexion

She’s a Sagittarius, but can imprint a share of the passion said to possess us

My aunt was a fellow Leo, big on theatrics

But while teaching it, she often brought home those antics

Always tackling something opulent and grand with just one free hand

My highschool teammate was also quite the drama queen

But when you’re first, you’re first, with something as simple as a running team

In division one I hear he has to do a lot more chasing

I’m just not really convinced he ever liked racing

Nature vs Nurture, as I’m putting my friends through this astrological torture

Tik Tik Boom, Tik Tik Boom

A movie about a kid trying to funnel ideas out of his room

A cinderella story, with no accompaniment of a dustpan or broom

With the second of the three Spider-Men mixing and fixing rhythm and tune

Acting’s a good job for the fire sign, as the industry requires a sort of charisma to enter

Some are frankly pricks and run in their own clicks

But others can’t decide on responsible places to put their dicks

Who think American Beauty is an utter cruelty if it isn’t shot while brutally acting in method

Other particular pricks aren’t always on the stage, but do stand front and center

One president’s big stick wouldn’t be tolerated by this political flick

But another can blow up a city brick for brick if a couple mantras manage to stick

Chicka Chicka Boom Boom, Tick Tick Boom, Tick Tick Boom, Chicka Chicka Boom Boom

Spacey walks free, giving his abusees a frequent fear mongering smooch

My asshole of a teammate is another face in the crowd repping the Nike Swoosh

The pig goes oink, and the cow goes moo

Barack’s picking out his next foreign victim, while my aunt’s working now on her fifth one

The pig goes oink, the cow goes moo

And a Leo—eventually in one way or another—goes BOOM