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Pianos, Unlike People, Sing When You Give Them Your Every Growl. They Know How To Dive Into The Pit Of Your Stomach And Harmonize With Your Roars When You’ve Split Yourself Open. And When They See You, Guts Shining, Brain Pulsing, Heart Right There Exposed In A Rhythm That Beats Need Need, Need Need, Need Need, Pianos Do Not Run. And So She Plays.

-Francesca Lia Block

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Pianos, Unlike People, Sing

Francesca Lia Block

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Pianos, Unlike People, Sing When You Give Them Your Every Growl. They Know How To Dive Into The Pit Of Your Stomach And Harmonize With Your Roars When You’ve Split Yourself Open. And When They See You, Guts Shining, Brain Pulsing, Heart Right There Exposed In A Rhythm That Beats Need Need, Need Need, Need Need, Pianos Do Not Run. And So She Plays.

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Once Upon A Time

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She Pushed The Gardener Away And Called For Them. In Her Sleep She Had Seen Love. It Was Poisoning. It Was Possessing. Devouring. Or It Was Seven Pairs Of Boots Climbing Up The Stairs To Find Her.

Maybe One Night I’ll Be Asleep And I’ll Feel A Hand Like A Dove On My Cheekbone And Feel Her Breath Cool Like Peppermints And When I Open My Eyes My Mom Will Be There Like An Angle, Saying In The Softest Voice, When You Are Born It Is Like A Long, Long Dream. Don’t Try To Wake Up. Just Go Along Until It Is Over. Don’t Be Afraid. You May Not Know It All The Time But I Am With You. I Am With You.

The True Warrior Isn't Immune To Fear. She Fights In Spite Of It.

Sometimes She Has Imagined What It Would Be Like To Fly, To Live In The River, To Run Like A Horse. She Has Dreamed Of That Freedom, That Power, And Fears The Wildness In Herself That Wants To Live As Beasts Live, Moved Purely By Need And Desire. She Has Felt Torn Between The Heat Of Her Limbs And The Thoughts In Her Mind Telling Her To Be Careful And Good And Always Calm. Don't Scream Or Cry, Don't Run To Him And Throw Yourself At His Feet, Pleading For Him To Take You In His Arms, Don't Strip Off Your Clothes And Run Naked To The Water, Wild With Wanting.

We Both Believe In Monsters. But All The Ghosts And Demons Are You. And All The Angels And Genies Are You. All The Kings, Queens, Buddhas, Beautiful Boys. Inside You. No One Can Take Them Away. (missing Angel Juan.)

She Had Changed Him. The Ice Was In His Eyes And In His Heart, Like He Had Predicted With That Song, But Now They Were Deep Embedded There, All The Pain Of The World. Not Pain To Make You Feel For Somebody Else But Pain To Make You Stop Feeling.

Maybe I Would Become A Mermaid... I Would Live In The Swirling Blue-green Currents, Doing Exotic Underwater Dances For The Fish, Kissed By Sea Anemones, Caressed By Seaweed Shawls. I Would Have A Doliphin Friend. He Would Have Merry Eyes And Thick Flesh Of A God. My Fingernails Would Be Tiny Shells And My Skin Would Be Like Jade With Light Shining Through It I Would Never Have To Come Back Up

Sometimes She Wore Levi's With White-suede Fringe Sewn Down The Legs And A Feathered Indian Headdress, Sometimes Old Fifties' Taffeta Dresses Covered With Poetry Written In Glitter, Or Dresses Made Of Kids' Sheets Printed With Pink Piglets Or Disney Characters.

Same Old Boring Boring Story America Can’t Stop Telling Itself. What Is This Sicko Fascination? Every Book And Movie Practically Has To Have A Little, Right? But Why Do You Think All Those Runaways Are On The Streets Tearing Up Their Veins With Junk And Selling Themselves So They Can Sleep In The Gutter? What Do You Think The Alternative Was At Home?

Every Girl Is A Goddess.

All The Things That Girls Feel They Are Not When They Fear That If They Become, If They Are, They Will No Longer Be Loved By The Sisters Whose Hearts They Have Not Meant To Break. And Besides, If The Sisters Are Gone And Only The Beloved Remains With His Dense Curls And His Lips, How Safe Are You Then? You Have To Have Him Or You Will Die If The Sisters Are Gone With Their Listening Ears And Their Feet To Rub And Their Bodies To Dress And Their Shared Loneliness.

Welcome Beauty, Banish Fear.

I Try To See The Dark And Light In Everything. This Is My Way Of Comforting Myself When I Am Dealing With Those Emotions.

Weetzie Wished She Could Shake Blue Glitter Around All Of Them - Keeping Them Sparkling And Safe.

If You Want To Find The Trail, If You Want To Find Yourself, You Must Explore Your Dreams Alone. You Must Grow At A Slow Pace In A Dark Cocoon Of Loneliness So You Can Fly Like Wind, Like Wings, When You Awaken.

It's Important To Tell Your Story. It's Important To Listen.

I Think That Poetry Is Perfect For Women Raising Children, With Just Bits Of Time And Such Need To Connect To Other Women Out Of The Isolation Of Motherhood.

The Rain Is Coming. Little Sister, The Night Broke. The Thunder Cracked My Brain Finally. The Rain Is Coming, I Promise You. I Didn’t Mean To But Your Tears Will Bring Life Back. Purple Flowers Grow, The Colour Blood Looks In The Veins. They’ll Sprout Out Of My Chest. I Promise You They’ll Crack The Ground, Grow Over The Freeways, Down The Slopes To The Sea. I’ll Be In Their Faces. I’ll Be In The Waves, Coming Down From The Sky. I’ll Be Inside The One Who Holds You. And Then I Won’t Be.

Under The Ground Seep The Toxins Of The Population That Lives Above. If You Have To, You Will Eat Roots And Earthworms. It Is Always Night. Candles Burn In Lanterns Made From Tin Cans. When It Is Nighttime Up Above, You Can Crawl Out, But Only For A Little While. You Feel Ashamed Of Your Matted Hair, Your Torn Clothes, The Dirt On Your Face. Who Would Want To Speak To You? They Are All Shiny And Pretty. They Have Parents And House With Gardens. What Do You Have? The Earth. Whole Handfuls Of It. The Lizard People With Their Slit Eyes And Scaly Skin. Your Loneliness. Your Longing.

Magic Can Be Found In Stolen Moments.

Pulling Heads Off Barbies, Sticking Them On The Tv Antenna And Ruining The Reception. But Thats How Witch Babies Are.

Okay. I Wish For World Peace,” Weetzie Said. “i Am Sorry,” The Genie Said. “i Cant Grant That Wish. Its Out Of My League.” “then I Wish For An Infinite Number Of Wishes!” Those People On Fairy Tales Never Thought Of That. “people In Fairy Tales Wish For That All The Time,” The Genie Said. “they Arent Stupid. It Just Isnt In The Records Because I Cant Grant That Type Of Wish.

Maybe Her Own Tears Were The Poison That Made Her Grow.

Think Of Your Pain Like A Bunch Of Red Roses, A Beautiful Thorn Necklace. Everyone Has One.

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It Was Like When We Were Little Kids And We Played Games On The Ivy-covered Hillside In The Backyard. We Were Warriors And Wizards And Angels And High Elves And That Was Our Reality. If Someone Said, Isn’t It Cute, Look At Them Playing, We Would Have Smiled Back, Humoring Them, But It Wasn’t Playing. It Was Transformation. It Was Our Own World. Our Own Rules.

My Heart Is A Teacup With Hairline Cracks. I Feel Like I Have To Walk Real Carefully So It Won't Get Shaken And Just All Shatter And Break.

You Have To Make Your Own Family, Your Own Life.

Pianos, Unlike People, Sing When You Give Them Your Every Growl. They Know How To Dive Into The Pit Of Your Stomach And Harmonize With Your Roars When You’ve Split Yourself Open. And When They See You, Guts Shining, Brain Pulsing, Heart Right There Exposed In A Rhythm That Beats Need Need, Need Need, Need Need, Pianos Do Not Run. And So She Plays.

Nothing Happened. And Everything Did. Your Whole Life You Can Be Told Something Is Wrong And So You Believe It. Why Should You Question It? But Then Slowly Seeds Are Planted Inside Of You, One By One, By A Touch Or A Look Or A Day Skateboarding In A Park, And They Start To Burst Out Of Old Hulls Shells And They Start To Sprout. And Pretty Soon There Are So Many Of Them. They Are Named Love And Trust And Kindness And Joy And Desire And Wonder And Spirit And Soulmate. They Grow Into A Garden So Dense And Thick That It Starts To Invade Your Brain Where The Old Things You Were Once Told Are Dying.

He Was So Handsome,but He Didn't Look Well.he Reminded Her Of A Cigarette.

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Nikos Kazantzakis

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