Missing Mystique

In Memory of Mystique; and dedicated to my dear friend, Helen, whose life embodies Heart Love. The following was after learning Helen lost her cherished puppy, Mystique.






Dear Helen,

I am so moved by your email and your feelings expressed about Mystique, which I read at midnight; that try as I might I couldn’t sleep until 3 or 4 o’clock and then so fitfully. I want to respond to your very sweet email of Mystique's passing and send you my love and best wishes.

Your loving is very beautiful and inspiring to me and has been as long as I have known you. You have always represented the archetype of love to me, and you deserve all the love you’ve given returned to you in your grieving time. Imagining losing my puppies, someone so valuable and important, has reminded me of that part which I hold most dear. I can hardly stand even the thought of such loss. And although I know I will have to go through it, my heart hurts so just with the thinking.

The night you lost Mystique, Maggie and Jessie ran away and got lost. After searching all night (7 hours) in freezing weather, I found them bedraggled and weary (actually they miraculously found me at a Gas Station miles away filling up so as to continue the search). I had been beside myself thinking this is it. They’re gone. And to think at the same moments you were losing Mystique. There’s a pain in my throat now again.

I‘m sending three stories and three pictures that I hope might comfort you in this time. Each, I believe, comes from the same spirit of love that you and Mystique embody. Mystique was so very, very, very lucky to be loved by you. And you by her. Please realize that all the unconditional love she gave you is the exact same spirit you are and gave her. I believe there are no accidents of those who share our world.

All the best to you, Helen, in this difficult time. Mystique, the Angel dog, will always live in your heart. Always there to love you as much as you need, her sweet face but a dream moment away. Mystique is you in some wonderful mystical way.

We all come and we all go. What we leave behind that matters is the Love. Mystique and Helen and Neil have left so much love behind. Thank you to you all.

w/ love, Paul :)

*****************************************************


The Old Man and His Dog
By: Author Unknown

An old man and his dog were walking along a country road, enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to the man that he had died. He remembered dying, and realized, too, that the dog had been dead for many years. He wondered where the road would lead them, and continued onward.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall, white arch that gleamed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother of pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He was pleased that he had finally arrived at heaven, and the man and his dog walked toward the gate. As he got closer, he saw someone sitting at a beautifully carved desk off to one side.

When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, but is this heaven?"

"Yes, it is, sir," the man answered.

"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.

"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up." The gatekeeper gestured to his rear, and the huge gate began to open.

"I assume my friend can come in..." the man said, gesturing toward his dog.

But the reply was, "I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets."

The man thought about it, then thanked the gatekeeper, turned back toward the road, and continued in the direction he had been going. After another long walk, he reached the top of another long hill, and he came to a dirt road which led through a farm gate. There was no fence, and it looked as if the gate had never been closed, as grass had grown up around it. As he approached the gate, he saw a man just inside, sitting in the shade of a tree in a rickety old chair, reading a book.

"Excuse me!" he called to the reader. "Do you have any water?"

"Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there," the man said, pointing to a place that couldn't be seen from outside the gate. "Come on in and make yourself at home."

"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog.

"He's welcome too, and there's a bowl by the pump," he said. They walked through the gate and, sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a dipper hanging on it and a bowl next to it on the ground. The man filled the bowl for his dog, and then took a long drink himself.

When both were satisfied, he and the dog walked back toward the man, who was sitting under the tree waiting for them, and asked, "What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.

"This is heaven," was the answer.

"Well, that's confusing," the traveler said. "It certainly doesn't look like heaven, and there's another man down the road who said that place was heaven."

"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates?"

"Yes, it was beautiful."

"Nope. That's hell."

"Doesn't it offend you for them to use the name of heaven like that?"

"No. I can see how you might think so, but it actually saves us a lot of time. They screen out the people who are willing to leave their best friends behind."

*****************************************************

A Dog's Plea
by Beth Norman Harris

Treat me kindly, my beloved friend, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.

Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I might lick your hand between blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me learn.

Speak to me often, for your voice is the world's sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when the sound of your footstep falls upon my waiting ear.

Please keep me inside when it is cold and wet, for I am a domesticated animal, no longer accustomed to bitter elements. I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet besides the hearth.

Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst.

Feed me clean food that I may stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side, and stand ready, willing and able to protect you with my life, should your life be in danger.

And my friend, when I am very old and I no longer enjoy good heath, hearing and sight, do not make heroic efforts to keep me going. I am not having any fun. Please see to it that my life is taken gently. I shall leave this earth knowing with the last breath I drew that my fate was always safest in your loving hands....


*****************************************************


Cuts Both Ways
by Loveson G. Flower
May 23, 1999

Maggie ran away today
Climbing over fence.
Wagging her tail furiously
Blind to danger’s chance.

So I hopped into my car,
Drove around the town.
Hoping so cruelty’s horror
Wouldn’t come around.

For if Maggie dies I fear
That couldn’t go on.
Her gift wagging love so dear
Wouldn’t come along.

Then I don’t know how I’d face
Each and every day.
How I’d go if couldn’t chase
Maggie’s scary play.

Is my love for her so strong
That it will crush me?
Will it shove to death if wrong
Comes to kill Maggie?

How could ever I let go
Of one who’s so dear?
Seems I’d never better show
Love can cruelly shear.

For who would ever then love
If the loss so great
Brings cruel feelings bent above,
Loving tossed to hate?

Love is but a two-edged sword,
Surely cuts both ways.
But to shut out loving’s soar
Worm’s new wings are slain.

Flying high can never last.
Butterfly must fall.
That’s why I am everlasting
Lover of you, Paul.

*****************************************************

Again….Much love to you Helen now and always. Thank you for your wonderful friendship and help with French. I hope to speak to you soon.

Paul


From an email, January 19, 2004; nearly two months after moving to France.



*****************************************************



A poem Helen wrote for Mystique during the night before her puppy died:

Mystque-y,
You're my best friend
You're my confidante
You're my precious baby girl
You're my pal
You're my love
You ARE love
You're my protector
And my personal connection to the Divine
You're my walking and beach/bench-sitting buddy
You're my teacher
You're my Mystique.

Twins Opposite Paths

Dedicated to my older sister; to my inner, feminine children; little Alice and not-so-little Gabrielle; and to all lovers and seekers of missing and wounded parts.


Once upon a time, in Love’s land of rhymes,
A lovely, fair Princess; was loved by Brother Prince.
Her hair was fire red, and caring heart she had.
Her deep, weep emotions; were deeper than oceans.

When he was very young, seeing her caring song;
The Prince thought that he had, a broken heart too bad.
For he could never feel, like she would cry so real.
He lived within his thoughts. His giving came to naught.

In every argument, scary emotions she sent.
But his thought would always win. “This ought to be a sin.”
The Princess would be shamed, and wince from Prince’s blame.
No matter how she cried, their laughter bowed and died.

Then she started to hate, her little brother’s fate;
And all the accolades, he won with waring’s blades.
His Mind like a scalpel, could find striking so well.
He practiced every day, to activate war’s way.

The Kingdom was afire, with Dragon’s war inspire
Attacked without and in, from warfare’s shouting sin.
The Brother and Sister, saw their loving blister.
And so they split apart; he to Mind, she to Heart.

The Prince rode off to war, while Princess home she swore.
He traveled everywhere. She reveled in home’s care.
He studied Man’s knowledge, not ready to acknowledge
That he was homesick, for Princess and home’s lack.

The Princess built the walls, of the castle so tall
With a moat so wide, an ocean fit inside.
The drawbridge was real strong, to abridge scary wrongs
And would be pulled real fast, before he could go past.

On coming back from war, homecoming was horror.
Brother Prince’s welcome, was Sister Princess shun.
He only saw the walls, and loneliness so tall.
The moat with ocean full, smote Prince emotions cruel.

His anger was intense, for danger love convinced
The Prince he was to blame, and so he was ashamed.
“What have I done to her, to deserve shun and hurt?
Is it because my heart, as child could never start?"

So Prince rode off again, still wincing from the shame.
But swore that he would learn, why drawbridge door did burn.
He would find a way, for this Dragon to slay.
He’d search both near and far, research the fear and stars.

Often he found despair, confounded hounded cares.
He realized his armor, did steal his love’s amour.
But everything he’d learned in waring’s fighting churn,
Demanded armor’s suit, for man’s horror pursuit.

He’d practiced Learning’s way, with active discern sway.
He’d explored subjects wide, but not explored inside.
“What’s under this armor? My wonder comes to fore.
Perhaps I shall undress, and allow foul’s confess.”

With trepidation then, for predators in glen
He took his armor off, and shook if harm would off.
But pretty soon he found, no predators around;
And looking in mirror, his humanness was clear.

He left the glory road, bereft war’s gore he’d known
To plant a garden there, and chant a gardener’s care.
His hands were in soil, understanding Love’s toil
Somehow was changing him, allowing’s caring came.

The garden’s Sunflowers, toward the Sun they’d turn
As if to See the Light, and worship the Light’s sight.
The birds would visit there, chirping exquisite care
To eat the flowers seeds; for sweet, baby birds needs.

Prince found some children who, winsome needed a school
To learn of Nature’s way, yearning natural play.
He spent one day a week, playing hide and go seek
And other childhood games, with loving children’s names.

He thought he was teaching, but caught himself reaching
To learn their happiness, and discern children’s bless.
Their Spirits were alive. He’d heard their words and lives
Hadn’t yet then been stilled, hadn’t their Spirits killed.

“Why are adults so lost, their adultness such cost?
As they’ve lost how to laugh, not allowing laugh’s quest.”
And Prince thought of Princess, and of loving’s duress
And wondered if their split, so plundered child’s care quit.

So for many years, Prince studied child care’s tears.
He learned of their stories, children’s cares and worries.
He cried at all their pain, where dying’s appall shame
Came to split them apart. Shame’s fit made quitting start.

He saw most everyone, had fallen very shunned;
And somehow split apart, cowing wisdom’s heart part.
“How can we now be whole, not split allow / control?,”
The Prince asked everyday, convinced whole’s task was way.

Meanwhile back at castle, Sister attacked hassle.
She defended her nest, upended in her quest.
For castle had burned down! In one bad turn too foul,
A Dragon had set fire, to castle’s walls and spire.

Castle represented, all Princess’ resentment
That worldly Mind and war, could bind her with horror.
If she kept up the walls, and slept not learn befall
She could pretend somehow, no World would she allow.

“I’ll wipe it off the map, the World I saw attack
Like my little brother, who strikes bitter love here.
The walls and mote protect, from falls emotes reflect
And like Rip Van Winkle, I’ll strike Learning to think.

By staying long asleep, delaying in his keep
The understanding of; beyond my family’s love."
Until there came the day, when killing’s fire played
And burned away the shield of world’s way past love’s feel.

She sent a call for help, to bended brother’s hell:
Could he perhaps help mend, and be perhaps a friend?
For he’d offered to her, past bleedings often stirred,
Some resources assist, from the Source to his Sis.

But before he did send, resources to help mend,
A dragon struck him down, dragging his luck around.
The dragon stole his eye, his lagging whole asked: “Why?
Was eye left feminine, to try cleft masculine?”

Amazingly that day, his sister didn’t stay
At home in burned castle, but showed at hospital.
She came like as a child, before shame child’s love cowed,
To show him her concern, to know his dragon’s burns.

The Brother and the Sis, saw all the love they’d missed
And how the dragons came, to burn their love with blame.
Investing out and in, was not best or a sin.
They reflected one part, neglecting mind or heart.

He could appreciate, sister’s earlier hate
By learning sister’s way, by discerning love’s way.
And sister saw mom’s son, there blistered from dragon
Could warm her heart a bit, which deformed heart had quit.

She offered him a hand, and he the understand,
That really they were twins, opposite paths to win.
He went out to find, bountiful know with mind;
And she stayed home for heart, to welcome loving’s hearth.


Twins Opposite Paths
by Loveson G. Flower
Sunday, 11:30 AM, June 13, 1999
at Denny’s, Palo Alto
Photoa Portrait "Sisters" by Loveson G. Flower

Blinded Parts of Mind and Heart

Dedicated to my younger brother; to two of my inner children, Little Paulie and Big Paulie; and to all lovers and seekers of missing and wounded parts.


Once upon a time, in Love’s land of rhymes,
There lived a Caring Prince, whose care was very rich.
His Big Brother, his friend, would always Bro defend,
And slay the dragons fierce, when they Little Prince pierced.

The Big Prince was Hero, for Little Prince’s Soul.
Handsome, smart and strong; he rode far to right wrongs.
For damsels in distress, would yell: “Please help!” to Prince;
And oft he’d ride to win, hand fought the Black Knight’s sin.

But sometimes in the mirror, when rhyming times were clearer;
The armor that he saw, was darker black’s appall.
“How could it be that I, am cowed by Seeing’s eye?
The armor that I wear, does harm my war for care.”

So Big Prince rode back home, for war’s attacking Son;
Had to consult with Bro, with little caring Soul.
Little Bro’d waited there, at home with hated care.
Emotional he was. Devotional because

He missed their connection, and bliss from reflection
When Big Brother and Small, had hugged and loved so tall.
On shoulders Bro had rode, protected from all foes;
Until there came the day, those shoulders rode away.

The Little Prince became, convinced of bitter shame.
Because from Big Brother, he saw little love there.
Prince waited for the day, with baited breath to play
With Big Brother, Hero; like before Love did go.

He always lit a Light, to light fright’s scary night;
And honor Hero’s name, to help his war with shame.
For many, many years; in darkest, darkness tears;
In scary, scary fright; Little Prince lit the Light.

For he refused to die, from abuse or the lies.
He kept his little Light, and wept from bitter fright.
Until he thought one day, perhaps he ought to say:
“I think it’s time to leave, this shrinking from Believe.

I’ll ride out from the dark, this hiding Son who’s parked,
And find my shining Prince, whose mind I pined and missed.”
And so he crept along. His small, scared Soul kept strong
From all the dangers in, the Law of Anger’s sin.

His little caring Soul, was not prepared to Know.
And so he made mistakes, when judgement’s blade did take.
He fought the best he could, but not confess he should
Then learn to learn so that, he could burn Love’s attack.

Meanwhile in the castle, back now from war’s hassle
The Big Prince had returned, and found the candles burned.
He was overwhelmed, by all the Love he’d shelved
In fighting damsel wars, in righting man’s horrors.

And what was even worse, as if Magician’s Curse
Could slay, he found that home; that day sounded like tomb.
For Little Bro was gone! His little Soul and song
Had vanished in thin air. Sad banished was his care.

So Big Brother fell down, for his loved Bro's lost sound
Was no-where to be heard. No caring shared or stirred.
He started then to cry, his heart broken replies
To all those candles’ lights, to all those darkest nights.

His cries were so intense, Mind and Soul of Big Prince
Could see he had a Heart, like Little Prince’s part.
And so he found a way, from loneliness to slay
The dragon that had cowed, and burned way to Allow.

Although he was a Knight, whose Soul controlled the fright;
He felt his feelings clear, melted by bitter tears.
He overcame his shame, and Love became his name.
He lit some candles too, like Little Bro he slew.

Out in the forest there, was Little Prince who cared.
Coming upon crossroads; accost by choice, he slowed.
“Whatever will I do?” said little, loving fool.
“I must make a judgement, and trust in fate that’s sent.”

He saw that making choice, from claws and quaking voice
Of lions and the bears, for Why’s beyond the care;
Could life and limb preserve, should strife blind undeserved.
Right then he realized why, Big Prince had knowledge high.

Big Prince’s learning efforts, weren’t to burn and desert.
He hadn’t abandoned, care’s Little Prince to shun.
So Little Bro realized, his caring Soul chastised,
That he must struggle too, not just be Snuggling Fool.

Then Little Prince got smart; when since, beyond just heart;
He learned which way to go. Discernment saying so.
He learned to tell the signs, of burning Hell’s designs;
And could see difference, ‘tween Light and dragon’s breath.

One day upon a hill, he played with his new skill.
Looking there far away, he shook from caring’s way.
For at horizon’s shore, at castle’s blazing door;
The largest candle’s Light, stood stark in fellow’s sight.

The candle was so great, Light handled his Soul’s hate.
He knew right off the bat, and flew from fright’s attack.
He ran home breathlessly. The Light so luminous seen;
It guided him along, confiding Light’s love song.

Which welled up deep inside, and yelled Love’s weeping cry.
Love that he thought was lost, was not! He wasn’t tossed!
Big Brother was at home, with Love the Light had shown!
“I’m coming Brother, friend; my lover who defends!”

His shout rang through the hills. Echoes rang too until
Big Brother heard their sound. His love stirred ‘till the ground
Rushed up to meet his knees; with crushed, defeated grieves;
His prayers had then been heard, as funeral pyre burned.

After not very long, laughter and every song
Rang through the kingdom wide; sang knowing, caring’s cry.
The brothers danced around, loving Love’s sacred ground.
They held each hand in hand. Melded they understand

That each had to become, what impeached other shunned.
The Hero now had Heart, a caring lad’s love part.
And Caring Prince also, could share convincing’s goal.
He found that he could find, bountiful life with Mind.

They needn’t split apart,
And bleed lost Mind or Heart.
But could become one whole.
Love’s food coming from Soul.


Blinded Parts of Mind & Heart
by Loveson G. Flower
Wednesday, 12:30 PM, June 2, 1999
at Hobbies, Palo Alto
Photos of Rob Browne's sculptures, "Brothers" and "Bummer," by Loveson G. Flower

“To Be or Not to Be”

I am tired of the songs
But to retire love seems wrong.
They’re a bare life minimum
Where my care might come to sing.

Most the time it’s bottled up
‘Cept when rhymes let throttle pop.
Take the lead foot off the brake
Make the dead aliveness sake.

For the puzzles at line’s end
Takes the muzzle off life’s friend.
When I’m not looking at all
The rhymes cook some love from Paul.

Now I feel tears behind eyes.
Wonder why tears hide replies.
What’s your message from the heart?
Let our passage come, impart.

(Written left handed from inner child, Paulie)

I think we are really sad
Like when old age killed our dad.
Death brought life in clear focus
Guess we’re caught by tears’ dear guest.

Come on guest, are you our friend?
On our quest must we defend?
Can’t we live, somehow be free?
Seems “To be or not to be”

Is the question after all
Depression or laughter calls.
Make a choice of life or death.
Stifle Love’s voice stifles breath.

Follow breath to follow life.
Allow death of shallow wife.
Letting go the winter’s hate
Lets our Soul know better fate.

Don’t forget by ignoring,
But forgive by imploring.
Tears emotions want to say:
Love's ocean please wash away.


“To Be or Not to Be”
12:00 PM, 1/28/99
by Loveson G. Flower
at Stacks, Redwood City
Photo from Top 500 Photos on the Net

"Bob Married Cathy!"

Need to now get going. Need to shine his shoes.
Need to stop my blowing holes by my lame excuse.
Today is his wedding. Today is the day.
Some way kiss the heading: "Bob Married Cathy!"

For they are cute lovers. They're matched perfectly.
And when under covers they'll make cute babies.
Bob calls her his Lucy, cause she's a crack-up there.
And I'm sure that we'll see a day of loving care.

The wedding's in the backyard, of Bob's mommy dear
Where the event of love care will bring many tears.
Wonder celebration, of friends and family.
Wonderful elation now that she has married he.

They have come from afar, near and distant lands
All to witness love more while we hear and understand.
Joining their two families. Joining all their friends.
Enjoying that we will see and their love we'll defend.

So Cathy and Bobby; perfect husband, wife;
Here's to little sobbing and here's to little strife.
Hope your lives together, may be like a dove
Flying in warm weather loving flying high above.

Seeing all you can see. Feeling all the love.
Being warmest family who always saw love's shove.
Remember this our blessing, that we are so blessed too.
Remember our confessing that we here love you true.


"Bob Married Cathy!"
by Loveson G. Flower
8:45 AM Saturday, 6/13/98
Days Inn, Studio City
(Written to read for toasting as best men at Bob's and Cathy's wedding)

Lonely Emperor

Was a little emperor
Conceited and proud.
Couldn't see his bitter war.
Mistreated all around.

Had a special language there
Only he could know.
Couldn't special language share.
Loneliness did grow.

Was surprised finally
When emperor learned.
Opened eyes to then see
Empire did burn.

No one really wanted
To learn his language.
Lonely, silly man sad
Yearning to be Sage.


Dream Journal Tuesday morning:
"Was an emperor who had a language that no one was allowed to know except him. As a mark of difference. He was a lonely, pathetic figure. Seems like others really didn't want to know his language."


Lonely Emperor
by Loveson G. Flower
Tuesday, 8:05AM 2/17/98
Home in bed
Picture from "The Emperor's New Clothes" by Hans Christian Andersen at www.mindfully.org/Reform/Emperors-New-Clothes.htm

Ignoring Wholeness?

Heart Songs are fading
Slowing down fast
Charting our fate sing
Growing won't last.

Focus on girlfriend
Seems to consume.
Joke is on World mend.
Screams do resume.

Are we ignoring
Wholeness pursuit?
Scary deploring
Goal lost dispute.

Is there a war now
Between my parts?
Does scare implore how
Wisdom impart?

Turned talents to love
Fantasy grow.
Burned balance full of
Ecstasy know.

Obsession winter.
Desperate hope.
Sob session sinner.
Please Spirit cope.


Ignoring Wholeness?
by Loveson G. Flower
Tuesday, 12:10 AM 2/17/98
Home at table

Love's Unbroken Cord

I told her I was scared,
From what now is the question.
Could it be I'm unprepared
For love's success dimension?

For if it goes wrong somehow,
The reason doesn't matter;
Familiar shame song sung bows,
Blames seasonal lost chatter.

I know that lost and lonely tune.
Know it well by heart.
The cold blast cost "if only" swoon
Coldly sell heart's part.

"See, I told you. Here we go.
Broken heart again."
Bleed, sigh, cold stew, fear takes hold.
Choke heart's start refrain.

That is normal. That I know.
That is broken record.
What's horrible and scares me so:
Love's unbroken cord.


Love's Unbroken Cord
by Loveson G. Flower
1:25 PM 1/31/98
at Coffee shop, Pruneyard, Campbell

Rain, Rain Go Away

Rain, Rain go away.
Come back then another day.
Pain, Pain please don't stay.
Please heal soon so I can play.

Wash, Wash over me.
"Oh, my gosh!" she like'd me say.
Then, Then we would send.
Send us to where we would mend.

Love, Love dreamt about.
Flying above felt no doubts.
Laugh, Laugh gentle smile.
Silly willy giraffe trial.

High, High to the sky.
Reaching so high thought we'd fly.
Where, Where did you go?
Loving care I need you so.

Lu Lu, sweet Louise,
Sweet phone friend do call me please.
Bye, Bye makes me cry.
Away you go, please tell me why.



Rain, Rain Go Away
by Loveson G. Flower
Thursday, 8:50 AM 1/15/98
Home in bed
Photo from: www.extremeinstability.com

Ghost Town Clown

Love me for who I am
Not for what I do.
For my glory be a fan
But care not for that fool.

For my doing, and my done,
My resume' divine
Sorely cueing not for fun
A consume' of mind.

Am I worth your love inside
Just for who I be?
Is the dearth of loveless cried
Dust for you to see?

A ghost town of dusty balls
Rolling down the street.
Empty host down lusty halls
Soiling clown complete.

Can you see my value clear?
Can you still then love?
Fan, you be friend nuclear
Family full love.


Ghost Town Clown
by Loveson G. Flower
Monday 7:35 AM 1/5/97
Home in bed
SewerClown.jpg photo from:
www.all4humor.com/images/files/Sewer%20Clown.jpg

I Am Don Juan

I am Don Juan, Casanova,
Lathario;
A Lover whole of lasses woven
In Marigold.

Their shining eyes, their kind replies
To love's caress.
A gentle touch, eyes glean so much
Before undress.

I see her longing, for Heart Songing,
Sweet music cheer.
Her breathing's light, as if in fright,
Song won't stay here.

When gentle stroke, and laughter joke,
Does bring a smile
Then twinkling eyes, glisten replies,
Sing stays awhile.

To sing her glory, and bring her story,
For her to know
How beautiful, now dutiful,
Lover sees glow.

You glow with light, make night daylight,
Light up our path
So we may see, a loving tree,
Sight in our grasp.

May I touch your face, with touching grace?
Such sculpted lines.
Your lips so fine, in chiseled line,
Love erupt finds

Your sweet love sounds, complete abound,
Music for ears
Which hear your words, elixir's cure,
To soothe our fears.

You're quiet now, and sigh somehow,
Words cannot say
The knowing of, the glowing love,
Unfurled today.

Your nostrils flare, as if beware,
The surge is strong.
Your eyes grow black, excitement's back,
No urge is wrong.

I stroke your hair, with loving care.
It feels so good.
You close your eyes, your breathing sighs.
Feel understood.

For finally, war's mind does leave,
Just feelings now.
No thinking now, just blinking's bow,
Must feel sings how.

I touch your arm, gentle disarm,
Loving caress.
Goose bumps abound, soft like goose down,
Beneath your dress.

Then hands we hold, our fingers mold,
Entwine together.
Each finger knows, the linger pose,
Of balmy weather.

Like Summer days, when palm trees sway,
In gentle breeze;
Dancing so soft, chancing aloft,
By Sun feel squeezed.

I stroke your palm, with knowing balm,
To soothe your fear.
Look in your eyes, with loving wise,
Pursue our tears.

For happy tears, do find us here,
Bringing their say.
That loving moment, eyes shining foment,
Singing today.

Your shining eyes, tearful replies,
Of gratitude
For tender care, my sending where,
Love's attitude.

Our glance is long, eyes dance our song,
Of knowing now.
It's time to move, and rhyme improve,
Love's growing bow.

The little shiver, below your liver,
In stomach's place
The fluttering, butterflies' sing,
Your heartache's race.

It's time to kiss, sighing our bliss,
To fuse our souls.
I smell your skin, perspiration,
Wafts perfumed smells

Of excitement, enlightenment,
Love's consumed bell
That's ringing loud, and singing proud,
Love's loving tale.


I am Don Juan
by Loveson G. Flower
Sunday, 10:45 AM 1/4/98
Home in bed

Above video is from the opening scene of the movie, "Don Juan DeMarco." It is a wonderful movie which captures for me the folly - and profound truth - of the inner characters and desires for pleasure, for romance, for ecstasy, for Love. "Don Juan" is an archetype, a symbol, a dream figure, a hope, and - hopefully - at least sometimes a reality.

"Don Juan DeMarco is a 1995 film starring Johnny Depp as John R. DeMarco, a man who believes himself to be Don Juan, the greatest lover in the world. Clad in a cape and domino mask, DeMarco undergoes psychiatric treatment with Marlon Brando's character, Dr. Jack Mickler, to cure him of his apparent delusion. But the psychiatric sessions have an unexpected effect on the psychiatric staff, some of whom find themselves inspired by DeMarco's delusion; the most profoundly affected is Dr. Mickler himself, who rekindles the romance in his complacent marriage."

Quotation from Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Don_Juan_DeMarco
Video from: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZQiRtJ6uumk
Movie poster from: http://www.videoclub.com.es/images/peliculas/don_juan_de_marco.jpg

Wisdom Vanquished

Guess I'm losing focus.
Better find and choose a miss.
Outside dancing and romancing
Let's try chancing then we can sing.

Rhymes aren't chiming singing clear.
Mind is behind clinging fear.
Just a habit, silly rabbit
Must try hop's bit. Escape rabid.

Rabid puppy, frothing at mouth.
Happy rabbit, hopping north south.
Is it really , happy puppy
Or a silly, rabid rabbit?

See what I mean? Devoid meaning.
Wisdom vanquished, just extinguished.
Heart Songs dying, charts no flying
Or am I killing See and wisdom unwittingly?


Wisdom Vanquished
by Loveson G. Flower
Thursday, 12:15 PM 12/18/97
at McDonald's, Redwood City

Introduction to Gaia's Dream, the Dance of Wholeness

The following chronological collection of Heart Songs were compiled after a life changing saga at the end of mid-life. They represent windows to perhaps unconscious understandings, knowing and going by a practice called Dream-Awake:

"Keep the mind to the rhyme.
Let the heart do its part.
So beyond either mode,
The Soul shows the road."

(from "How to Dream Awake," 5/17/97)

In November, 1996 a "Planting the Seeds" ceremony and ritual occurred where close friends participated in the spiritual beginnings of my multi-media studio and the sharing of my life's Vision and Purpose. Within 4 months of this ceremony, the creativity in many dimensions was exploding. I realized that I seemed pregnant in an artistic, spiritual way - impregnated by the love, concern, and support by those in my world present and past, and by my evolving inner self.

Going with the pregnancy metaphor, using the Dream-Awake method to get in touch with inner feelings and places, the "baby" was born August 3rd, 1997. What is the baby? The Heart Songs explain it best. Perhaps the baby is a Vision; or an anonymous Artist working toward goals in support of the Vision. Perhaps it is personal growing, wholeness and becoming. Perhaps it's all of these and more.

The Vision is about Gaia, the She/He whole, one-life force and being. It is about love and wholeness in mind, body, spirit dimensions personally and corporately, inside and outside. How can we become whole and complete our lives in all dimensions? What are the obstacles? The road signs? Where can we find inspiration?

The artist is named Loveson G. Flower, an anonymous "Nom de Bloom." He/She writes, sculpts, heart songs, jousts with windmills, plays music and more trying to grow, learn and better express Love and Vision. He/she's still a youngster, fresh from the womb as of this writing, with all the enthusiasm and limitations of tender age.

Foundations for this growth include participation in Psychodrama; study of Psycho synthesis, Jung and more at Institute of Transpersonal Psychology; working with children in environmental education at Hidden Villa; and inner guidance after many years of reading, inner reflection and life suffering. These Heart Songs are sent with love in the hope they might encourage and inspire; help connection and reflection; and sow seeds of loving and growth in us all.

____ (Traduction anglais-français ci-dessous par Google Translate)

Introduction to Gaia's Dream, the Dance of Wholeness
by Loveson G. Flower
Saturday 9:47 PM, November 1, 1997
At studio, Allied Arts Guild
(from introduction page to 1st self-published group of approximately 350 heartsongs)
Scanned image is Sunflower Multimedia's Vision & Purpose, the first content page of published work.

Loveson G. (Gabrielle) Flower (a Nom de “Bloom”)

is an anonymous author & artist whose:

Dream-Awake Spiritual Practice: 

Keep the Mind to the rhyme. Let the Heart do its part. 

So beyond either mode, the Soul shows the road. 

Life Purpose: 

Help free Spirits of fellow creatures & myself. See Beauty, others
& me. Reduce suffering. Help bring Light to Shadow & vice-versa. 

Life Plan: 

All is Welcome. Follow Light & Love.
Be a Team. Breathe. Forgive. Let Go.

Vincent Love Sent

Have lost my kitty, Vincent boy.
Sad cost a pity, his sent joy
Seems gone away, can't find way home.
Be's wronged today, planting play's done.

He's been with me, for 5 years glad.
Has seen many, war's cried tears sad.
Slept with Paulie, in the nighttime.
Kept company, saved from fright I'm.

Will miss him so, if he must go.
Killing kiss blow, wisdom halo.
My companion, held me tender.
Me a champion, his see sent here.

Wrapped his soft paws, around my arms.
Sleeping soft was, his bound kind charms.
Was the first born, of my family.
Love's uniform, love inside me.

Wore it often, more and more then
War's scared coffin, door did open.
Let me see love, that's inside me
Thank you my love, Vincent kitty.


Vincent Love Sent
by Loveson G. Flower
Wednesday, 3:34 PM 10/29/97
Cafe Barrone, Menlo Park

Unknowing's Going

Do the rhymes flow through from me?
Through sometime to sow some seeds?
Keeping here listening hard.
Creeping fear blisters sing's yard.

If we can just try the task.
Let See stand must fly the mask
That separates the true me
From hapless face "reality."

For what now is "real" really?
More shit foul to kill my See?
At every stage of my life,
Did very wage knowing's strife.

Thought I knew high reality.
Bought congruent's fidelity.
Sure, so sure, of righteous truth
Cured woe's fear of Nighttime's tooth.

How to stay with the unknowing?
Bowing's play for wisdom going.
Keep the vacuum alive and well.
Weep. Accumulate love's swell.


Unknowing's Going
by Loveson G. Flower
12:45 PM, 10/21/97
Allied Arts Restaurant, Menlo Park

Virtuoso Love

Woke up dreaming. The pianist screaming
Incredible arpeggios.
Smoke almost seeming, from piano gleaming
Delectable arms, fingers throws.

Virtuoso live performance go
Pianist and Singer. Wow!
Searching so for perfect musical
No notes missed by fingers now.

Is it possible? Seems so improbable
That such talent lives in me?
Are you in there, just waiting to come share
So much love sent if believe See?

Overcome call, to Life's obstacles
Finding a way to the path.
No matter the block, in road won't be knocked
Winding our way past our wrath.


Virtuoso Love
by Loveson G. Flower
Sunday, 5:00 AM 10/12/97
home in bed

Musique du film "Love Story", Francis Lai, en Piano Solo.
Piano: Steinway D
Musician: Elie Drai (pianiste israélien / israelian pianist)
Video from: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZ8d7f9o6OY

This piano arrangement from "Love Story" was the piece I played over and over in learning piano to express my profound pain and suffering during and after the break-up of my first, true love (at least so I thought then) when just 19-years-old at the US Naval Academy. It was also the start of my inner Artist's expression. Who seemed to insist to come out and express although I was so trapped in a left-brained, all-male, military world.

Cet agencement de piano de « Love Story » était la partie que j'ai jouée à plusieurs reprises en apprenant le piano pour exprimer ma douleur profonde et la souffrance pendant et après la dissolution de mon première, amour vrai (au moins ainsi j'ai pensé alors) quand j'ai juste 19 années à l'Académie Navale des USA. C'était également le début de l'expression de mon artiste intérieur. Qui a semblé insister pour sortir et exprimer bien que j'aie été ainsi emprisonné dans un gauche-brained, tout-mâle, monde militaire.

-- LG Flower

Wisdom's Care

Autumn wind, brings sensuous clouds
Of dramatic shapes unfolding.
Bottom sin, flings tempest loud
Of climatic places holding.

Does the sky, say why can't I
Find consistent, kissing cousins?
Sometimes I, play with chance my
Sin resistant blessing doesn't.

What if I, then can't still fly
When reckless love's disease
Want's to stay, won't be away
Sent feckless glove's in breeze?

Does appetite, say that I might
Need / want changes' tune?
Can't satisfy, my crave so I
Bleed warrant's range too soon?

What comes with age, beyond death's cage,
Is balding, wrinkles, lines.
But some will say, what comes' dismay
Kills halting drink's wise finds.


Wisdom's Care
by Loveson G. Flower
Friday, 5:17 PM, 10/10/97
Cafe Barone', Menlo Park

Video from: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zepm2HaGvHw
Music: "Caribbean Blue" by Enya, from album "Paint the Sky With Stars - The Best of Enya"

Listen with All Ears

Lying here with Vincent
Sleeping on my arm.
Trying clear to love send
Weeping to disarm.

Dreamt about a Doctor
Who could listen not.
Meant a lot about heart.
Wouldn't miss Mind's pout.

If Mind really listened,
Listened with all ears,
He'd find chilly his sends.
Isn't any tears.

In another dream we lost
Sweet Aunt Ethyl dear.
Is mother leave the cost
Keeping lethal fear?

Dreams of feminine
Upset with old male's role
Screams seem genuine
Beset with whole's failed goal?


Listen with All Ears
by Loveson G. Flower
6:00 AM Friday, 10/10/97
home in bed

All Parts Need Love

Read to Craig all my week's story.
How my dream places and worry
Of why no Miss Lover to touch,
Of my blaming myself too much.

Seems my dreams and songs connect so
That my screams and wrongs detect grow.
My new place, super computing,
Help's old race, old self disputing

That there is any hope here.
New self wants to bring him cheer.
Dreams of Debbie coming to say
That she forgives and loves OK,

That everything was just what had
To happen even with my dad.
My dream of leaving, coming
And be moved by all her running

To find a way to thank me
Says so much about my See.
Guess my anima forgives me
And inner ma even loves me.

The new supercomputer,
Has mythic, female instructor.
Instructions to make it work,
And old computer still thinks he's jerk.

New wants old to forgive all.
Sue chants cold can't live appall.
We need love in all our parts.
Instructions work even in old parts.

Old part has trouble finding
Feminine instructions winding.
And even more has much doubt,
That Being's scored past can out.

Thinks that we are worthless still.
Blinks when taking self-worth pill.
What Mind knows is not in boy,
Yet. Find growing's hot for joy.


All Parts Need Love
by Loveson G. Flower
1:00 PM, 10/8/97
Hobbie's

Tension's Contention

I am stuck here in my bed.
Seems my luck cheered gone instead.
Can't get atoms all in gear.
Dreaming phantoms. Just lie here.

Vincent comes to lay on chest.
Kin sent loves my love to wrest.
He ain't heavy he's my brother.
Be's quaint sending frees my bother.

If I had a lover here,
Would Vincent be brother dear?
Forced to sleep outside my room.
Worse, might keep outside heart's boon.

Maybe Soul sends loneliness.
Can be role rends only best?
Is alone the best thing now?
Does lone phone bring Quest's sing bow?

Is the tension of the absence,
His contention that with no miss
And no relationship bliss,
We can say what tension can't miss?


Tension's Contention
by Loveson G. Flower
9:00 AM, Wednesday, 10/8/97
home in bed

Lost Smiles

She said her main requirement
Forced for a sane relationship
Was that he must have all his teeth
'Cause that she trusts meant much beneath.

Do I let my teeth fall out?
Is this but why my sky does shout?
Caring not to wholeness make,
Preparing rot my soul does shake?

Like the eating junk food then
Was like beating punk good when
He didn't do anything wrong.
All he wanted was to sing songs.

But no. Had to beat him up.
Had to bad make. Feet give up
And won't walk another mile.
Just don't talk and smother smile.

We can let the teeth fall out.
Get real ugly beneath pout.
So scary that no one's dear.
Goal's weary. Can't show my fear.


Lost Smiles
by Loveson G. Flower
2:30 AM 10/4/97
home in bed

Photo copied from google searching toothless.

Sleeping Beauty's Frog Prince

Baby girl just went on by
Clutching world. Must almost cry,
As she hold's her baby doll
Walking gently to not fall.

Fairy tales for little ones
Merry swells pour bitter fun.
Do the stories sing our tune?
Hero's glories bring wisdom?

Sleeping Beauty lies asleep
Waiting, rooting Prince will weep
And come quickly to awake.
For Oneness, kiss my heart's sake.

And the Frog Prince also waits
For the Princess' kiss sake.
Hope she will then me transform,
And Prince become when I am born.

But what if Sleeping Beauty still
And Frog await each other futile?
Can neither become awake
Or transform and wholeness make?


Sleeping Beauty's Frog Prince
by Loveson G. Flower
Thursday, 11:30 AM 10/2/97
at Hobee's waiting for Pat
(Created for Allied Arts Halloween Sculpture of Sleepeing Beauty and Frog Prince)

Junk Food Dog

Waiting for my fast food fix;
Egg McMuffin, hash brown mix.
Certain to then calm me down.
Certainly a balm for clown.

It is so very unhealthy.
No matter now how real wealthy,
It will clog arteries good.
How come jog for silly food?

Guess I'm just a Junk Food Dog.
'Fess up to making punk log.
Making body very fat.
Shaking hard so we won't last.


Junk Food Dog
by Loveson G. Flower
Thursday, 10:30 AM, 10/2/97
Waiting in car at McDonalds
Cartoon by Tom Meyer / The Chronicle, 1997

Monday Morning's Mourning

Monday morning's mourning.
Some way heart come pouring.
Fill up the universe again.
Fresh, clean life reverse the pain.

Listen to the little children
As they hasten fit puzzle's plan.
Try and figure out the issue.
Rise and fall, Mom brings a tissue.

Grieving helps to mend the wounds.
Band aid covers pretend healed soon.
Are the choices just these two:
Band aid or face grieving's zoo?

Ignore the problem and hope away,
It will go if pretend I say.
Or look at closely the whole pain,
How and why and feelings shame.

Does the crying of the pain
Help the child get whole again?
Does the ignoring of the same
Create even more pain and shame?

For a life covered with band aids
Becomes a mummy as real skin fades.
Covered up by plastic skin
Not alive fantastic win.

Grieving is not acceptable;
Seething's anger, hurt and fall.
In our world of make believe
We're told for Pete's sake don't grieve.

You will just be really messy
And upset fuss and silly dressing.
Going around and be real sad
Might touch my heart make me feel bad.

How can I stay in my head
If your emotion's grieve instead?
You'll upset the apple cart
All designed to keep feelings apart.

Band aid's break and wear away.
Destroy the skin they're trying to play.
Perhaps they work a little while,
But Nature's work brings happy smiles.


Monday Morning's Mourning
by Loveson G. Flower
Monday, 10:50 AM, 9/29/97
Cafe Barrone, Menlo Park

All Deserve Grace

Jet lag is starting,
My energy smarting
With much more to do,
Before such is through.

Have to do the fences,
For the puppy's dances.
Must clean up the house,
For Psychodrama joust.

Want to get to bed on time.
Fighting sleepy won't be fine.
Be aware, awake for them.
Beware not forsake and shame.

Let the gremlins come on out,
With their friendly fun or shout.
They are in there breaking out.
Way bares breathing's aching doubt.

For the asthma is not physical,
But some plasma kissed emotional.
Only have in times difficult,
Like when Sandra's kindness not felt.

Couldn't breathe when we went to bed.
Asthma speaking what I had not said.
That I'm having problems here.
Unconscious spoke sing loud and clear.

Psychodrama touches places,
My dad's & mama's busted graces.
Internal mirror of then family,
Eternal horror made temporary

By acting out scary dances,
Where we got stuck in child romances.
This is what we do all the time.
So why not do it smart this time?

Use people who are kind support,
To act the parts not mind the warts.
For in normal, unconscious way;
The other's there don't think it's play.

They are caught in their dance too,
To solve their broken romance blues.
And when our two broken records,
Try to mesh just discontent's heard.

And the missing experience,
Is still missing confirming fence
That keeps the walls still in place.
Fat weeping calls chilling grace.

For grace can come from finding out,
War's place can shun with blinding doubt.
Blinded by the childish know,
That find's no healthy wealth of grow.

So let the child parts that are stuck,
Come play with friends hearts not just luck.
For some are lucky in their dance,
To find missing experience.

And never have to really know,
That their inner parts found grow.
Every one deserves such grace,
Even the most hurt in their race.


All Deserve Grace
by Loveson G. Flower
Friday 2:22 PM, 9/26/97
Burger King, Redwood City

Slavery's War Unknown

On the plane to Chicago,
Back to my name. No Key Largo
Any more to play all day.
Kinda nervous that have to pay.

Pay for all my dalliance.
Wonder 'bout my allegiance.
What is my commitment to?
Be an unrelenting fool?

Can I exercise my life?
Use muscles, mind, sex for wife?
Use my great intelligence,
To make some kind of difference?

Have everything, I guess.
Though no Bill Gates, I have largess.
Have more material than love.
And have love real from above.

Puppies, kitties, goats, wild birds.
Have plants, trees, See & these words.
Have warm friends who care for me.
Have Allied Arts charmed symphony.

Have Psychodrama to get whole,
And to help promote as goal.
Developing skill in the arts:
Animation, sculpture, musical parts.

Have a Vision sometimes clear.
Sometimes belief transcends my fear.
Have the time to complete say.
Ten or twenty years to play.

Still might make some real babies.
For heart's sake fable pleased.
Guess I don't expect that now.
Aging's cruel reflect kills bow.

Once I was a handsome lad.
Many girls thought winsome glad.
Eyes clear blue & shocking locks,
Of long blond hair that knocked their socks.

Seeing their reaction then,
Believing forever I should win.
When an end to some romance,
Another sent to come and dance.

Depending on my attracts power,
Pretending not an addicts sewer.
Live forever, loves a plenty.
Gave my flower of youth away.

In those years of unconsciousness,
Most commit for marriage bliss.
Although it's common in our age,
That American's have less love than rage.

Most of marriages don't work.
Wind up calling the other "jerk."
Arranged marriages in East,
Often are carriages to feast

Compared to ours of our choosing.
With all our choice how come we're losing?
Is it because inside we,
Have holes as causes of dying?

Wife-beatings and child abuse,
Are so prevalent seems screw is loose.
How has our culture devolved,
From 1930's wholesome friends proud?

Now for just a small pittance,
We leave Detroit for hot west's dance.
Everything geared economy.
Can't get us take vacation's be.

On the weekends we watch sports.
Every night Tele's fat warts.
Rush to work and then to buy.
Fast food, fast love, never fly.

Winner take all society.
One in thousand live the dream.
Even they who have it "all,"
Seem trapped in desert's garden fall.

In the sixties some did try,
To make love not war with heart's cry.
The powers saw and had a fit.
Invaded minds to insure we quit.

Just go back to slavery,
Wrapped up as economy.
Buy the new car, everything.
Focus material not sing.

So our selves are hardly here.
Drowned on shelf while we drink beer.
And myriad of drugs out there;
Like work, sex, movies, malls shout "Here!"

Want to try do resist all,
Of material's seduction call.
Have doubt of successful try,
With millions of messages to buy.

They say that I will be fine when;
I buy the new, better kind then.
But after buying so much,
I am quite sure that can't buy crutch.

And with relationship holes blue,
Promotion makes desperate true.
I'll just buy that new boat now.
Look. They'll see I'm proud, then bow.

We'll forget the mounting bills.
Buy some more and take some pills.
Quick and easy, like a child.
Change the channel, feeling's file

In the folder: "Just ignore."
Find a new hole. Must get more.
Look real hard in Western eyes.
Where's innocence, kind replies?

Where's soft love across the land,
Helping Life and fellow man?
Hope it's still there in each one.
Buried deep sometimes can't come.

Wish the war in our land was,
Apparent to understand cause.
It's hard to fight war unknown,
That you're object for slave's owned.


Slavery's War Unknown
by Loveson G. Flower
Thursday, 4:35 PM 9/25/97
On plane from Paris to Chicago

Mosquito's in My Room

Little buzzing mosquito, circles round my ear.
Bitter, fuzzy moth's eat clothes, 'til buzz sound fly's fear.
Wakes me up from sleeping land, to learn that bitten I
Take the poison's weeping plan, to burn like kitten tied.

As the poison courses through, my breathing gets real tight.
And the reason forces new, my seething body's fright.
What of now malaria, or other dread disease?
Can somehow diary solve, my Mother's deadened ease?

For she is numbed to our been, pretending I am dead.
Our be not numbered of kin, when sending wisdom read.
Wisdom isn't much a part, of our relationship.
His dumb insist such a wart, she'd rather sink our ship.

So mosquito's disease seems, to be my family's pain.
Still missing whole. Uneasy screams, seems happy flees again.
Having Barbara & Thomas; and Lloyd, John, Steve and Pat
Among the others in the past, employed as loving cast

Did soothe the pain of little Paul, in trying's comprehend.
Dead's losing refrain appall, of dying family's end.
But soothing isn't near enough, to end disease progress.
The losing wisdom here is rough, and bends to me regress.

The answer to mosquito's call, as she stings my skin
Is dancer's beautiful fall, as she sings heart's rain.
Though fallen far there from grace, of those who might have loved,
No sullen war from care displaced, can oppose new sight's love.


Mosquito's in My Room
by Loveson G. Flower
Thursday, 4:12 AM 9/25/97
in bed at Les Zeribas, Sanary sur Mer, France

Wheels In Motion

The Wheels are in motion,
As I sit by the Ocean
And prepare to fly home,
Am aware of why's tone.

I told Barbara this afternoon,
My soul desires bliss' laughter soon.
Why for Les Zeribas to own,
Is to cry "I love you" to Paul's son.

The inner child who is so hurt,
Who believes has no real worth.
Is the one I want to give,
Such loved fun sky's chance to live.

For he deserves so very much,
For all he serves to their lives touch
With his large, giving heart.
He is our living part.

When He connects with Jan,
Barbara's and Thomas' son,
I know he's really there.
I feel he truly cares.

My mind and heart agree,
That he is worth much be.
Worth much more than he knows.
Worth such a worthy toast.

So Paulie if you're there,
Please know I love your care.
Love everything you do.
Love how you pull me through.

My tears now in my eyes,
Are your grateful replies.
You're welcome for the land.
Thank you for understand.


Wheels In Motion
by Loveson G. Flower
Wednesday, 3:33 PM 9/24/97
Sanary sur Mer, France

Must Fate Sting?

Is wholeness for just a season?
Not goal lasting, busting reason
To stay in Artist's life.
Sue playing's parting's strife.

Without such a hope and goal,
Wizard's dream clutched airy pole.
Nothing really, really there.
Moth fling killing in night air.

As he circles round the light,
Does he purposeful kill life?
Or is light an accident?
Was his plight planned, placid sent?

If I have no hope and dream;
Live, survive is doped man's scream.
Trying to get screaming out,
Plying clenched teeth's teeming shout.

All sucked in, tucked far away;
Appalling Lucky's last luck days.
Just waiting for hangman's call.
Must fate sting door to planned all?

Light please shine,
Your brightness share.
Might ease moth's
Poor, frightened care.


Must Fate Sting?
by Loveson G. Flower
Sunday 3:30 PM, 9/21/97
Sanary at beach

Mother Teresa's Passing

Mother Teresa died just last week.
Her archetypal service to meek
Brought the World's attention to helpless;
Starving, tortured, forgotten homeless.

Soon a Christian Saint, for sure.
But her message ain't Christ's cure.
At least not the "Born Again"
Message rot that's Corn's refrain.

Perhaps Jesus would be proud,
That Mother Teresa's loud
Service to the World at large
Wasn't about belief required.

But was for humanness true,
Help reduce suffering's blues.
This is message all can hear,
Even Martian's strange culture.

Jesus' words originally
Weren't turds church insistently,
Tries to push on down our throats,
When we're too young to lies smote.

That's why Mother Teresa
Gives lie to what Christian's saw.
To help Hindu, Moslem
In their suffering and shame,

Is to help fellow creatures
And not be concerned with prayers
To a God they don't believe.
Kindness smote remote God's grieve.

As for me, I realize now;
Purpose isn't complete somehow.
Beyond freeing creatures true,
Reduce suffering We must add too.


Mother Teresa's Passing
Saturday, 4:10 PM 9/20/97
by Loveson G. Flower
Sanary, France at Creperie
Photos of oil paintings "Mother & Child IV" and "Mother & Child II" by Bruni from www.brunijazzart.com

Merry-Go-Round

Merry, Merry-Go-Round,
Very hard to still stay down.
Little ones having fun.
Twirling around like clowns.

Mommies making sure,
That the motion's blur
Is still safe and fun.
Can't hurt little ones.


Hello there, baby dear.
Wave to me and bring your cheer.
Your smiles goes on for miles.
Your laughter is so clear.

Where is my laughter now?
Did I lose it somehow?
Unable to play, or laugh too much.
Just a little chuckle smooch.

Not like healthy children.
Laughter natural beyond grins.
When was the last time,
Uncontrolled laugh's pastime

Brought me to my knees?
Like a healthy sneeze.
It is beyond the mind.
Belly laughter is fine.

Seems I often made jokes,
Making fun then and pokes.
Teasing all around.
Tried to be a clown.

But if my clown makeup,
Reflected my own make-up
It would be with a tear,
Permanently fixed there.

Need some laughing practice.
Belly shaking like jelly dish.
Where is now the clown laugh school?
Perhaps I could be laugh's fool.

Play with children and friends.
Listen to their jokes and grins.
Anything to laughter give.
Anywhere heart's joys do live.


Merry-Go-Round
by Loveson G. Flower
Friday, 4:48 PM, 9/19/97
At the Merry-Go-Round in Sanary sur Mer, France
Clown painting by unknown artist photogrphed by Loveson G. Flower at county fair in California in July, 2004

About Inspiration's Motivation

I'm sitting on a bench in dear Sanary.
It's fitting that at sunset's dear flattery;
That I take in all it's bloom, and don't send me to my room,
'Cause quitting before quenched shames love's imagery.

Is it possible some way, that to live here is OK,
And I might learn French language and romance?
Is my skill still able, to show that I'm not feeble,
And can learn foreign behavior's dance?

For I've 20 years of so, before I have to go.
Want to spend them in life's love sublime.
I can think of no where, where beauty drinks with such care;
Where inspiration paints, writes, sings and rhymes.

But what about the puppies? Kitties, goats and love squeeze?
And our life in sunny California?
There have a grand studio, that I demand to go;
And don't want to forsake Psychodrama.

And there is dear Rob, master artist, and my job;
That I hope to master over time.
My best friend, Patricia; I would sorely miss ya.
Couldn't stand much faster dying's crime.

Could I combine perchance, California and France
For a life romantic to the end?
With less at beginning, time in France spending
Until retired tired dancing sends.

Do I deserve such love? Is the question from above
That my wounded child does seem to say.
Then my big brother, Paul; rises quick to answer call.
Says: "How soon, wild child? Of course, OK."

So how can I now glean, the space that's in between;
The two kids who often rule my days?
For wisdom is beyond, my boys singing child songs.
Included but not ruled by childhood's haze.


About Inspiration's Motivation
Wednesday, 7:00 PM 9/17/97
by Loveson G. Flower
at Sanary sur Mer, France near beach
Portrait of Sanary sur Mer by Loveson G. Flower

Transcend My Fear

Got some sleep for weeping eyes.
Read old heart songs, believe them wise.
Want to get them typed up soon,
Catch up last 50 songs boon.

So if loved ones invite glance
Like Lloyd and Simone asked romance,
I can allow the words to flow
From my page to their world's whole.

Who knows how others do hear
If my words burn of bring some cheer.
But surely it seems obvious
That with no words they can't bring bliss.

Perhaps there might be one ear there
That desires inspiration's cheer
And resonates with these song's care.
To help free spirits, Transcend my Fear.


Transcend My Fear
by Loveson G. Flower
Friday night, 9/12/97
on plane from Chicago to Paris

Risk is Risky

Made a decision about the money.
Execution waits before it's honey.
But just the say so seems real big.
Some milestone. Guess no longer a kid.

Kids believe they live forever.
Will take huge risks. Think it don't matter.
But grown-ups seem to see the risk.
Sometimes they freeze, won't try the task.

How to balance risk-reward?
Preserve gains and still move forward?
For with risk comes reward true.
I've seen this my whole life through.

But problem with risk is just this:
It's risky that the risk won't miss,
And want to stay and keep me scared.
Keep me frozen and unprepared

For moving on
Through Life's unknown
With armor on
And new hope gone.


Risk is Risky
9:45 AM, Thursday, 9/11/97
by Loveson G. Flower
Hobbies

No Mass Transit

Standing in line at DMV.
Bureaucracy's fine but boring.
Processing all us applicants.
It is a crisis for immigrants.

The scared, wide-eyed look they have
Says so much of our system's staff
Which can come hard upon their heads.
If they can't drive legally they're dead.

One can't get work, hardly survive
Without car's legs, we cannot thrive.
To live in world of large spiders
With just worm's legs, we're food for birds.

They can run, and they can fly.
We just crawl and wonder why.
What happened to being human?
Technology's need to consume man?

Oil, Gas, and automobile.
No mass transit connections thrill.
I've been here many a time,
And never is there a short line.

Guess our enormous taxes
Can't pay enough for staff fix.
Frustration, anger; wait, wait, wait.
Hope to get to front of gate

Before lunch or closing time.
Sorry. Go back to start of line.
I send my paperwork to them.
It must get lost, jerked by gremlins.

Murphy's Law works always here.
You forgot this or that. Oh dear.
Just another day in paradise
As we're smothered in the machine's vice.

Conform. Bow down. Useless to resist.
Step out of line, suffer if you insist.
But you'll feel the jaws of steel.
Humaness steal, traded for Slave's deal.


No Mass Transit
by Loveson G. Flower
2:30 PM, 9/10/97
Standing in line at Department of Motor Vehicals (DMV), Mountain View

Take Love Off Shelf

Ache all over, body sore here.
Seems to die now, fading somehow.
What can I eat? Bend, move my feet.
Exercise some, might bring back one.

Is life over, no green clover
To lie in there, to express care?
No new arms warm, to hold and learn
Her body's charm, she in my arms?

Am I too scared, just unprepared
To ask for love, my task above?
Disintegrate, is this my fate?
On the downhill, road to death's chill?

Seems too early, for death's stirring
And I resist, want to insist.
Stand up and fight. Exercise might
Bring back my health. Take love off shelf.


Take Love Off Shelf
by Loveson G. Flower
Monday, 5:30 AM 9/8/97
home in bed

To Love's School

Hear a little rain drop; pit pat pit.
Wash away my feint heart. Let's not quit.
Find a way fire start, to burn through
Underbrush that clogs path, to love's school.

For the bell is ringing; ding dong ding.
Time for heart song singing, love to bring.
Only few tomorrow's, in our lives.
Feel the joy and sorrows, from the lies.

See the love in all things, all around.
Seeing it can then bring, loving sounds
To the heart that's thirsty, for a drink.
See the best not worst we, don't just think.

But can feel and express,
Anything.
Then expression can bless,
With our sing.


To Love's School
by Loveson G. Flower
Sunday, 9/7/97
home in bed

Lost & Not Found

Lying in bed, I rub my eyes.
They want to close and just ignore
All the pain, their see's replies
To friends we lose sad ever more.

We borned some creativity.
Vision and do, derision now.
But then our love let us almost see
Decision through love to allow

The marriage of our different parts
Produced some fruit, our love's pursuit.
But the cost of such fruitful starts
Reduced my roots, weakened stand's foot.

Haven't toppled yet to the ground
But I can tell crashing down comes.
Loves rent hope cold, lost and not found.
Why can't love swell, crushing frown son's

Or daughter's tears? Is birth just death
Of parents lives consumed for child?
Can't stand these fears, my worthless path.
Mites infest hives, then doomed kill wild.


Lost & Not Found
by Loveson G. Flower
9/6/97
home in bed

Queen of Hearts

Dedicated to and in memory of Princess Diana.

Am touched with World's out-pouring
Of Love for Diana's passing.
She was a fairy princess lass
Who only seemed to fill our glass.

And though once a lowly commoner
Like us all, we elevated her
To become a Queen of Hearts somehow
Beyond royalty's fiction's bow.

And all their pomp and circumstance
Was destroyed by her youth's truthful dance.
Her lovely, honest, warm heart pain;
Her quest to grow, and her tear's rain

That washed us all just like our lives
In our unknown, desperate strives
Ignored by vicious Paparazzi
Who reflect our lusts & killed our Queen.

Diana's now a memory.
We loved so her humanity.
She was emotional with grace.
Not like Charles' dour, distant face.

Her despair at times knew no end.
Her death sometimes she sought to send.
But always loving all around:
Her children, homeless, sick friends she found.

Isn't this contrasting story
Just our own without the glory?
Powerful, thinking, controlling men
Who cannot cry, feel, only defend;

And female, heart, emotion full
Warms and comforts, with loving pulls
Us from our minds into our hearts.
Thanks Di, you showed our loving parts.


Queen of Hearts
9/3/97
by Loveson G. Flower
at Hobee's, Palo Alto
Photo from: www.myspace.com/15821460 179x209-6ko-jpg

Negotiating's Clown

Having crisis with my friend.
Am desperate to make amends.
Feeling wronged in our contract.
How can I uphold our pact?

If I only then back down,
Acting Negotiating's Clown,
And not stand up for me,
Is this Pyrrhic victory?

She might then have her money,
But serious hurt might kill funny,
Laughing, loving friendship,
More important than win's kingship.

When to hold a friend to wire
Of contract's deadline's fierce fire?
I hope we can compromise,
And both believe this wise

And see our family stakes:
Justice, learning
.....for our Hearts' sake.


Negotiating's Clown
by Loveson G. Flower
9/3/97
Hobee's

Love Muscles

Finally felt again today.
Let my heart come out to play.
Cried reading my old heart songs.
Stopped leaving's cold making wrong.

Touched the part who loves all this.
Like remembering how to kiss.
Engaging my love muscle's bliss,
Though limp & flabby still exist.

My piano fingers still play
Sweet music for emotions sway.
Although tied down with pain,
Arthritis makes them complain,

They still want to express
Our way through or of the mess
That we find ourselves again.
Can expression soothe the pain?


Love Muscles
by Loveson G. Flower
1:45 PM, Wednesday 9/3/97
Hobbies

Is Enough, Enough?

Is it time to sell our stock yet?
And exit now from the rocket
That has shot us to the moon.
Is it too late, or too soon?

When is enough, enough?
How long can we swim in sea's rough?
Before we drown in ruin.
Before a clown we turn in-

To prove daddy's old, wise adage:
A fool and his money at a young age
Soon part to only remember,
"What-might-have-been-if-only" words

Which cut like knives forever more.
Like Edgar Allen Poe's raven swore
When he came tapping, tapping then
To remind Life's short & death comes when

We least expect black visitor
To escort us away forever more.
Please Wisdom say: What shall we do?
Do we fold our cards or stay a fool?


Is Enough, Enough?
by Loveson G. Flower
9/3/97
at Hobbies, Palo Alto

Truth Farmer

Muscles are aching. My body's undone.
Life's forsaking; friends, family shunned.
Why am I alone? What's the reason?
Please now be shown, why lonely season?

Dreams about Mama, ignoring my plight
That Truth Farmer, is not a fight.
But is a dear plea, a desperate hope,
To connect with thee, to somehow learn cope.

My unconscious, deep ocean place
Fights religious, barbaric face
That doesn't seek Truth, but only sameness
And makes many fools, in name of Holy bless.

I didn't create, the way things have been:
Christian's warfare, making sex a sin,
Or the Hell dogma, the childhood abuse,
But only delved & saw. Would not make excuse

For all the lies there, the inconsistencies.
I know it's unfair, and easier to kill me,
Because we were told, that it was true
And the stories old, were God through & through.

But we can still see, and learn to accept
That other lives can be; also true, correct.
As the world gets small, and other people love
Letting go our God's tall, single place above

Allows real love for all,
Not just a cruel sham.
We can get past appall,
And open real Truth's dam.


Truth Farmer
by Loveson G. Flower
Sunday morning, 8/17/97
home in bed

Cyber-Slave, Internet Junkie

Becoming an Internet Junkie,
Some stooge. Just a cyber-drugs flunky.
So much cool stuff to see -
Naked Babes interesting -

All designed to catch my eye,
Grab my time and my money.
Sitting there stuck like a leech
That attaches to skin in bowels of beach.

Sucking, sucking for all it's worth.
And my life becomes a dearth,
Of real life, healthy happening;
Lost in cyber tapping in;

To my brain, my time, my lusts.
Spider web's food I am because
I can't or won't seem to break free,
Leave the room and go to be.

The longer I stay right there,
Attached to leech sitting in chair,
My body and life disintegrates.
Time passes and fate won't wait.

By process of elimination,
I lose my discrimination.
It's easier to find life here,
In Cyber space that go out there.

Cyber-Life although illusion,
Has benefit of inclusion.
At least it seems like that to me.
If I pay my life, I guess it's free.


Cyber-Slave, Internet Junkie
by Loveson G. Flower
Saturday, 5:00 PM 8/16/97
at Le Boulanger, Menlo Park
Cartoon by Breen, Ashbury Park Press, 1997

Pinnochio's Strings

Recently started Internet.
Plunged on in and bit the bullet.
I can see why all the fuss.
Lot's to see. Information must

Fill up every question here.
It's better that swilling a beer.
Addiction's fiction that I see
Pretending something's real really,

And not just photons shooting past
The monitor's face to my eyes fast
So I can sit alone and surf
From here to far. But which is worse:

Answers to questions worthless,
Or questions of answers not mine unless
I let the controllers control
And become a little Pinnochio.

Dancing only on their string.
Chancing only to sing their sing.
Never venturing song myself
Of real life's stirring, as my own elf.


Pinnochio's Strings
by Loveson G. Flower
2:00 PM, 8/15/97
at Cafe Barrone, Menlo Park
Photo from: www.costumeshopper.com/Merchant2/graphics/00000001/59587.jpg

Past the Past

Dashing and bold adventure.
Would fasting or old venue be cure
To my boredom and ennui?
Is this overdone? Too much me?

Can't keep balance together?
Like plants weeping glance for weather.
Hoping for some rainy skies;
Groping for water's replies.

We have born our seed but now,
Must be fertilized somehow
With new moisture and sunshine;
Fairy dust's cure to be fine.

And not be one of most,
That goes straight from seed to ghost
Without thriving in between;
Growing up, my branches seen.

Don't want to just be potential.
What might've been then on trial.
But actualize talents fair,
All tracks realized with sent care.

Sent to loved ones known or not;
Anonymously shown lush plot.
For the seeds to have a chance,
For most to grow up so can dance.

To send their seeds near and far.
Bouquets to build peace not war.
And help human kind & more,
Reconnect with Ocean's shore.

To love the deep and ocean wave,
For wholeness seep and soul to save
From a Life of worthless time,
Transcending strife in meaning fine.

Each of us meaning must find.
Not be told, controlled our mind.
For we are unique each one;
And all can see light, become

All we can. All that we see.
Resurrected our dead be.
After our days in the fire.
Using soil our Soul's require

To reach our higher purpose.
To impeach fire's unjust
Destruction of healthy goals.
Seduction of wealth & repose.

But to fly past fear, desire.
Past the Past and Hell's fire.
Into Light, Love, Wisdom shown.
Into health with Self now known.


Past the Past
by Loveson G. Flower
Tuesday, 12:20 PM 8/12/97
Hobee's Town & Country, Palo Alto