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Sweet Flowers

Stuck, moved to longing and
filled with want. Unable to care,
from fanning flames of things
consumed in me. I reach for
never and now. Gaining neither.
Caught in this wanting for more
of the sameness and saneness of self.
Lost from chasing me to you.

Never catching the next feat of my
attentive passions to write in the
diaries of our thoughts. On then I
push you pull I need you want I
rush you run. Then I stop. Walk
to the edge of no, look out and
yell for the insistence of
control I gave up.

Gained from realizing the need
to feed the dream I live in endless
pursuit. To taste, innocence and charm
hiding amongst those secrets guarding
the mystery of hers-each calling me.
And the she’s, who will, and can
always draw me nearer, reaching me
at all times and any place again and again.

Whispers so sweet, the finer they are spoken.
Voices on the wind drifting to my spirit.
Sounds of soft colors directed in me.
Pleasing rays of light the finest hue.
Beautiful flowers the ripest buds.
Heavenly creatures, angels all.
Magnificent thoughts of wonder.
The grandest architecture of structure.
Splendid as many, desirable as only one.
Expressions of appreciation.

Capturing this with thought and
skill the more I chase the less
my words run.
Finally I will use them for me.
To be the comfort of this besotted.
For reading the leaves of desire.
The cost to me most weighty.

Payment tendered with the
vulnerable openness and
wanton dreaminess hope brings.
The currency of which has been
minted by my heart:
Pain , love, want, desire
needing, wonder, passion
intimacy, longing, lust
and caring. Various denominations
of notes I use to pay for the things
I write that are felt with inner
strife and seen with ethereal reason.

Always as sweet flowers to my mind.
Here I celebrate. Nay? I worship them.
They call to me, rise and fall.
Sprint and stop! Show sorrow,
feel pain and laugh, love with
for and about us.

To give them their just reward
and make an impression here,
Lasting, real and known. Using
words to form pictures of moments
Carved in now. As well they should be.

They; become part of me forever etched
deep in my heart as fleeting glimpses of loves
lost and reminders of sorrows gained.
Triumphs felt and known. Entwined
with my spirit and living on carried with me
in gratitude.

Blossoms of hearts they honor the soul.
Nurturing me with their beauty.
Ever new and giving they pull me to them.
In my mind we are like dancers, step- touch,
move. Our rhythms quickening when familiar,
they step with me.

Partners moving in time stirring my
notions in states of passion and
dreams that inspire me. On it goes leading me.
My fondness for them is as numbered as the
stars and as vast as all that I can know.
Leaving me touched and kindred seeking their sanctity.
Sweet Flowers.


Feb 1, 2010
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I listened to this while I wrote Sweet Flowers
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