Monday, August 17, 2015

Flower Pokin'

I was a naturalist raping nature for its beauty.
Taking from the black earth the thing that made it pretty.
I did it out of fear, working in a crying fury,
Searching for the recipe to help cultivate the flirting.
And finished now, my fears run off as I prune, ridicule, and scoff.

I stand now knowing your potential, my dream here has come true
Of a centerpiece worthy of my god, itself, and of you.
Done working now, done flirting justified by my creation.
Never to repeat again my flower poking damnation.

I keep the pace with a sad face running the lifelong mundane rat race.
From quivering lip to perked emotion, travel steady and in slow motion
And near death or upon it, or thinking only of it I am enlightened till it passesa
And then back to the desk and sit, work hard now, and then, work hard to be rewarded when?
Too old to go, to old to grow, to old for it to be worth the sins.


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