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

Vision's Quest

Cleaned up the studio today,
Ready to begin.
Wherever, whatever plays,
Steady love or sin.

Cleared the decks, what the heck.
Time to let it loose.
I'm not crazy, and not lazy.
Can stand all opposed.

Whether stingy or being dingy,
I can take it all.
Have resources; and, of course,
My ability to fall.

And then to rise, with mind's surmise,
Of all the stuff that smells.
I can find out, what my mind's shout,
Of the stuff that kills.

With this method, of confessed blood,
I might really know
What's the price, of our world's ice,
That freezes growing's grow.

Maybe then I'll, find then awhile,
A way to say it clear.
Make some notice, addiction's motive,
And freedom's free way dear.

Is there someone, who might then come,
And open our heart's all
To the damage, system's savage,
Slavery and our heart's kill?

Hope to find them, and support them,
In the breaking out.
Nourishment of, their struggle's love,
And helping past their doubt.

Wish I could be, serenity,
And successful mouth.
But I realize, my faults and lies,
Might not pull north/south.

Can't speak language, of all's passage.
Barely know my own.
Want to learn now, and find somehow,
Vehicles past grown.

So can invest, and find success,
In the Vision's Quest.
To make difference, give hope a chance,
Help many make best

Use of their lives, not wasted lies,
But true connection
With their own Source, not slavery's force,
And blue ocean won.


Vision's Quest
by Loveson G. Flower
1:30 PM, 8/10/97
at Pizza Place, Menlo Park

Messenger's Message

Must here make clear, name's of nuclear
Family just born, whose health we're sworn,
To help live and survive, not just be born alive.
And have their own names. No confusing games.

Loveson is an Author and Sculptor.
Gaia's the Subject and our Mentor.
He/She writes new vision.
She/He is Love's vision.

It may be little confusing,
Like difference of Song from Sing.
Loveson writes and sings,
Gaia's songs played strings.

She/He's the object of our love,
The whole who enfolds us in Her/His glove.
A warm embrace so we can know,
She/He's responsible for our grow.

Loveson's here to sing the story.
Not for pride and not for glory.
An anonymous Artist,
Sculpting symbols of Heart's wish.

Don't confuse the clear message,
With the broken Messenger's passage.
He's nothing special, just someone;
Who jousts with windmills to be One.

And hopes others might also then See,
How their own wholeness might now be.
And if they can't We will be sad,
But for our cracked mirror's heart we're glad.

Loveson tries to plant seeds.
Gaia plants, grows, harvests needs.
We're just a strand in Her/His web.
Weaving coming leaving's instead.
You can be a find line too,
In Gaia's silky, woven zoo.


Messenger's Message
by Loveson G. Flower
Wednesday, 8/6/97
Hobbies

Almost Dead

Am at home,
Still can't come
Back to Life.
Grief for wife?

Which doesn't,
Wish isn't
Happening.
Pen no ring.

Cannot sing,
Nor can bring
Me alive,
Open eyes.

Almost dead.
In my bed.
Loveson lives.
Ego gives.


Almost Dead
by Loveson G. Flower
Tuesday, 1:30 PM, 8/5/97
at home

Smoke and Mirrors

Am stuck to this chair and don't know why.
Am I afraid to go there and see if I fly?
So we are born. Now what?
What's the next trick? Underwater float?

Guess I'm skeptical of all the commotion.
Would be more impressed with locomotion.
Is there a difference then from today?
Or is it smoke and mirrors play?

Broken-hearted is a great fix.
Is this what you call your best trick?
Would it be better just to survive,
Than all this set up for a dive?

Please, Critic
Have your say;
But in your disgust,
Please, don't slay.


Smoke and Mirrors
by Loveson G. Flower
4:30 PM 8/4/97
Cafe' Verona, Palo Alto

Post-Partum Blues

Post-partum blues are here. Hope can find some cheer.
All birthing's excitement, left feeling excrement.
Guess it is all a part, to give Loveson a start.
But I sure am blue. Wonder what to do?

Shall I go home to bed? Find a good book not read?
Travel far abroad? Make love to a broad?
Why's my inspiration, now just perspiration?
Is it just my mood, or unhealthy food?

Read her my love poem. Walked with her to farm
Past Gaia's dear plants. Some time with me to grant.
But so suddenly, she's gone and death we
Must now contemplate. Cruel, dark, cold heart fate.

It was all set up, our relationship
To end on a dime, at this ending time.
Now must integrate, find a new heart's gate
To open again, with new seeing friend.

Don't know when or where, or if can find care
In a person there, for our lives to share.
To have loved and lost, must be worth the cost.
But the bill's now due, and I'm surely blue.

Hope my account is full. Pay bill keeper's due.
My heart banks seem light, from this taking flight.
Loveson, here's your gift; for your wings to lift:
Broken-hearted mom, so that you could come.


Post-Partum Blues
by Loveson G. Flower
3:00 PM, 8/4/97
Cafe' Verona, Pala Alto

Nightmare's Fear

Having nightmares, something that scares
About's not clear: Vision & steer?
Realization, at end of line
Comes exploding, it's unfolding.

With my head ache, my body's sake
Which is hurting, sore and aching.
Cut and bruised scars, now with nightmares,
Wonder what's next? Pregnancy's hex?

But I'm in love, with our new son
And our daughter, Loveson's laughter.
Am I worried, in the flurry,
If it's not right? Is that our fright?

Somehow heart song, seems to go wrong
In my dream fear. It is so queer.
Keeps on waking, with me shaking
At end of line; can't, won't, don't find

What's important,
For our heart's chant.
Am ignoring,
Love's exploring?

Nightmare's Fear
by Loveson G. Flower
Monday 5:30 AM, 8/4/97
home in bed
Non Sequitor cartoon by Wiley, 1997. WWW.wileytoones.com

Time for Flying

Borning's over. Four leaf clover.
Feel real lucky. Perhaps found See.
Baby's real nice. Friends there nice twice.
Helped me through it, my birthing fit.

Now the Vision, is decision.
See it always, sleep and at play.
Muscles aching, from the baking
Brand new something. Has a nice ring.

Round and wholesome. Found my goal: One.
Express Gaia's, dream of flying
For all creatures, in their searches
For their fullness. Pull life soul's wish

From the ocean, and emotion
Tied together, like kite's tether
That let's flying, me not trying.
Just hold on tight, to string of kite.

Like my thinking, past my blinking.
Thoughts connected, to heart's section.
And the body, hold's the world key
For metaphor, to show all more.

Are we One now?
Born fine somehow.
Time for flying.
Mother's crying.


Time for Flying
by Loveson G. Flower
Sunday, 11:30 PM 8/3/97
home in bed

Vision's Symbols

Have been outside, of our dear womb.
Won't fit inside, of Studio room.
Been working solid, for week or so
With tourists did, my time then go.

It is some strange, to be display
And rearrange, my do and say.
They stop to talk, and ask me questions.
Sometimes I balk, my task and quest burns.

My hands are cut, bruised and bleeding.
But glands war shut, for use their freeing
Me to make new, Vision's Symbols.
Like a lake's few, streams ocean goes.

Every new one, many begets
Until the Sun, on wide Sea sets.
Evaporation, to white cloud fair
Water's motion, pours on mount there.

And down in streams, to Lakes deep blue
Feeds forest's green. Circle's then through.
Creative Life, is just circle.
Let go live strife, let's miracle

Occur each day. Symbol's then born
Come out to play, with wholes come more.
Time to go now, finish Labor.
Am so grateful, heart wish did pour.


Vision's Symbols
by Loveson G. Flower
6:30 PM 8/2/97
Cafe Barone', Menlo Park

Singing Fingers

Sweet guitar music, plays inside my whole.
Am some heart sick, for music's sounds enfold.
My dear piano, is just a distant friend.
Want soon to go, and friendship there mend.

Who knows how long, fingers will still bend
And play sweet love songs, for my heart to rend.
When I am crippled, will I be real sad
To not have sampled, sweet songs' feelings glad?

Have some tears here now. Guess I'm sad already.
Just when I learn how, my fingers leave real steady.
They have always served, me in many ways.
Don't get love deserved, for all the tunes they played.

All the lovely women, who fingers made feel fine.
And the knowledge omens, hands uncovered lines
Of many fields and learnings, turning page by page.
Helped uncover yearnings. Expressed and let go rage.

I will miss you fingers, if you must retire.
Guess I'll be a singer, to try and express my fire.
Just a voice untrained, to sing away my fears.
Must sing a new refrain, to carry through the years.

Thank you hands and fingers,
For all you've meant to me.
Loved piano and learn thirst,
Through you I was sent See.


Singing Fingers
by Loveson G. Flower
5:45 PM, 8/2/97
Cafe Barone, Menlo Park
Photo from: www.homepage.mac.com/annetics/.Pictures/ Image-1AEE754AFD7811D9.jpeg

Our Big Bang

Less than 24 hours, before Loveson pours showers
Of love into our life.
There's lots to do. The time sure flew,
In my role as wife.

The sculpture's grand. Made strong the stand,
And skeleton is fine.
Chrysalis black, around the stack,
Of the eternal bind.

Between the Earth; Sun, Universe
Connected at the heart.
We came from it. We're star's deposit.
From deep space came our start.

Exploding thing, the bold big bang,
15 billion years ago.
And all matter, even this chatter,
Expanding, spanning know.

Is Loveson's grow, our Big Bang now?
Time to break the fences.
Expanding fast. Grown-up at last.
Free to complete our dances.

Hello new world! May my love curl,
In spiraling, whole dances.


Our Big Bang
by Loveson G. Flower
5:00 PM 8/2/97
Cafe' Barrone, Menlo Park

Vision of a Broken Mirror

Turn on water connection; to Earth, Sun, Universe.
Spiraling inside ocean, all to then transverse.
Make maleness, fertile testes; filled with bright white beads
Somewhat hidden male seeds, to not offend thee.

Hair of ivy golden. Green blond, eyes See true.
Translucent web skin, fond spiders weaving's glue.
Backbone from the garden, stick and SunFlower stalks
With roots at the bottom, chakra spirals talk.

It starts and uncoils inside, up to higher reaches.
Spiraling energy cried. "Wake up" the sky beseeches.
Neck made of a pine cone, holds the head aloft.
Legs in dancer's pose. Arms reach out real soft.

As if to ask a question: "Come and dance with me.
You can wholeness become. Will you chance to See?"
I am but a Vision, of a broken mirror,
Who chose by decision, to heal his heart's terror.

All human creatures are mirrors, broken though they be,
Can reflect past their fears. Can show their own Light's See.
It may be just on one side; of the wide, sphere round.
But if you search inside, other mirrors are tied to ground.

Listen to each mirror,
Who is shining his/her Light.
Connect yours to all in sphere.
Soul's finding total sight.


Vision of a Broken Mirror
8/2/97
by Loveson G. Flower
at Cafe Barone, Menlo Park
(Description of sculpture created at Allied Arts Guild as metaphor/representation of Loveson's birth)

Sweet Dreams, Pleasant Dreams

Can't sleep yet, all keyed up.
Need to get, Paul to sleep
So we can, build our friend,
Our new baby; for love maybe.

We should pray, that we stay
Together, calm weather.
Just two days, Saturday
And Sunday, our Son's day.

Daughter's too. Else she'll sue
Favorites, and have fits
We deserved. Be reserved.
Not show off. Don't blow off

Anyone. No one's down.
But be humble, with love's mumble
Or clearly, and dearly
Be a friend, hearts to mend.

Feelings send, around the bend.
I'm so tired. Must retire.
Let's go sleep. Gaia keep
In her arms, loving charms.

Sweet, sweet dreams,
Pleasant dreams.
See you in,
The mornin'.


Sweet Dreams, Pleasant Dreams
by Loveson G. Flower
Saturday, 2:00 AM 8/2/97
home in bed
Baby Blues cartoon by Rick Kirkman and Jerry Scott, 1997

Let It Come

Why sit here and sip tea,
There's much to do to craft me.
Today the body and the spine,
And breasts beautiful and fine.

The arms must be shaped in an "O"
To symbolize the search for whole.
And ask the question in sweet romance
To all who see: "Would you like to dance?"

The face with SunFlower's dear seeds.
Eyes made from food for birdies.
Legs from branches of loved tree.
All natural textures for symbol, He/She.

Her/His hair made of long, green ivy
Growing, absorbing Sun and thriving.
An inspiration to come alive,
But perspiration now to survive.

And finish all in time for birth
Just two days left to find our worth.
What do we have inside, dear Paul?
Is it Loveson's cry for all?

Is it vision and our love?
Is it connecting to Above?
Let it come. We're almost there.
I love you so for all your care.


Let It Come
by Loveson G. Flower
2:30 PM, 8/1/97
Cafe' Barone, Menlo Park

Sour Apples

My hands are all gnarly. Sore, cut, bruised and barely
Able to still function. Guess need miracle's unction
To save my loved fingers, from arthritis' ringer.
And I wonder how long, we can still sing our songs.

And type and play piano, make love like Luciano
Pavoratti sings fine. Being crippled's unkind.
Have been blessed all my life, with good health and few strife's
In physical body, 'cept for little balding.

But now must endure, aging's slings and arrows
As body breaks down. That could make me frown.
Youth is wasted on the young. This old saying sings my song.
Guess I didn't waste my youth. Was real active if some uncouth.

Probably just Sour Apples.
Different stages in our grapple
With fate and destiny.
Death's late or sometimes early.


Sour Apples
7:00 AM 8/1/97
by Loveson G. Flower
home in bed

All Need Light

Bright spots of circle light
Shining up at me.
On every round grape's bright
Sphere a white Sun I see.

Just a little spot delight
As if each whole could hold
It's own clear drop of Sunlight
Within its whole enfold.

No matter size, or attitude;
Sunlight spot does give
Fine, gentle reminder food:
Wholes need light to live.

No matter material unfurl:
Fruit, cell, leaf or pearl.
All need light for sight delight,
Even our whole, wide World.


All Need Light
by Loveson G. Flower
7/29/97

Put on My Wings Today

Put on my wings today, just to see how they fit.
They felt OK, muscles must grow to use it.
Am amazed at their beauty. Their symmetry and grace.
The ways they will thrill me, like poetry's grand chase.

Physical verse for eye to please, like a flower petal.
The rhyme is in the line to see, showered ephemeral.
We started up the heart pump. Got circulation going.
Still must weave back-rump, or organs will be showing.

Have discovered how to make the skin,
Using SunFlower seeds like paint.
An impression of a face of kin,
Loveson's needs are quaint.


Put on My Wings Today
by Loveson G. Flower
7/29/97
home in bed

Why See the Differences?

Mona and Jessie, have a sweet messy
Relationship there. But they sure do care.
Mona's a pussycat, just a bit taller than she's fat;
While Jessie's a white German, Shephard dog on our farm.

Who's five times larger, than her little sister,
And different species. Though that's not what they see.
Jessie was born, on an animal farm
Where species were mixed up, and though she was a pup

When we brought her home, she still wants to come
And play with the cats, and goats thinking that
She is one of them. Her loving did win
Over Mona Lisa, our beautiful Siamese,

Who has bright blue eyes, matching the skies
Who sees sweet Jessie, as friend not enemy.
She jumps to the ground, and runs up to the hounds
And lies on her back. "Jessie, please chew my neck."

Even when they're too rough, and she's had enough,
She lets the puppies know, batting their faces so
They get the message, that she's no sausage.
And just wants some love, attention from above.

"You may be real big. I don't give a fig.
Let's have relationship. My face you can lick.
And I will purr some more." Cats and dogs need not war.
Why see the differences? When they are love fences?


Why See the Differences?
by Loveson G. Flower
7/29/97

Body Wisdom

Complete skeleton. Can't be gelatin.
Must be strong enough. Handle storm's windy rough.
Or else it will fail, without structure's gel.
Weld together bars, woven from the stars.

The Universe contains rocks, that'll thwart being off knocked.
And the pump that sends; deep dark space's friend,
Must be working first. Then quench clothing's thirst.
For the outer ware, always comes later.

First the cells and bones. Then shape of all zones
Grow in proportion, before emotion.
Weave wings that are strong, connected with long bond,
That won't break in flight, when with all of our might,

We depend now on them, to fly from the glen,
Up into the air, past our past's dark scare.
Out over the plane, through the Sun and rain.
Through tornado's eye. Almost touching Sky.

Strong yet light they be, our wings from a tree,
Symbolize her Love. Sending us above.
Crafted in a shape, Butterfly and Ape.
Connected in spine, a new creature, fine.

Whole eggs sprouting from; fertile, giving womb.
With the live fluids, fertilize the seeds.
Pouring into Earth. Filling up Her girth.
Many growing wholes, every color enfold.

As the Light from Sun,
Powers everyone.
The Whole Universe,
Loving Chrysalis.


Body Wisdom
by Loveson G. Flower
7/27/97
(Description of sculpture created at Allied Arts Guild as metaphor/representation of Loveson's birth)

A SunFlower by Any Other Name

Seems like the date is late. Baby is on the way.
Kinda afraid of fate. Do we know now what to say?
About this new blooming? Is it healthy? Alive?
With all of its fingers? Its heart robust to thrive?

And before you are born,
A son and/or daughter,
I thought we should write down,
Why you're named what we are.

It's "Loveson G. Flower." A name to be alive.
Carefully chosen here, to help us all survive.
It contains many things, that we believe you are.
And changes Ego strings, with anonymous care.

Your name contains "Love Son," a Mother's message start,
To "Love SunFlower" one. Another kind, heart part.
Also in your naming, is "Love Song Flow" and "We."
Not for clever gaming, but wholeness labeling.

But what about a name, for our new daughter dear?
Is feminine's clear aim, just ignored by Seer?
"Flower" 's a sweet name, which paints colors transport,
A delicate refrain. We'll call her "Love" for short.

"G" might stand for "Gaia," or "Girl" or "Giving" love.
Allow sweet anima; to let give live, not shove.
Then there's a small symbol, after that big "G" there.
Just a round, black, dot hole. Woman's secret treasure?

The "G" spot before "Flow," that lives close to "Lower."
Like "Son" 's lurch of old, unconscious search for "We're."
Which is near whole in line. Happy discovery,
That in our name we find: "Love," "Song," "Flower," to be.


A SunFlower By Any Other Name
by Loveson G. Flower
7/23/97

Birthing Pains

Is it all just my ego? My experiment with See, so
There is no real journey, just illusion and turning
O'er many new words there. My pretending I do care
Might be what I do. Like be clever and show,

Just how many new thoughts. Expanding dirth and draught
Of any true meaning, from Wisdom not gleaning.
I sit here with the words, and listen for fresh turds
To come out to answer, my questions make more clear.

But while sometimes I hear, thoughts that make my heart stir,
Sometimes I must force it, and it's painful to sit.
When then will it happen, not Symbols but Love send?
The flooding now into, my Heart and Mind blended?

I'll make all the Symbols; the words, sculptures and goals
And pray that in some way, Symbols they just don't stay.
Or else I'm just kidding, myself and not ridding
Me of my real tortures. Just pretend it's fortune.

That really I'm a King, with out any clothing.
With all my Round Table, not telling Truth able,
To look straight in my eye, and tell me that I lie,
And this is illusion, my pride's fool delusion.

Then I will go away. Just live then to play.
But if there's some meaning, if Birdies' Seed gleaning,
Please tell me how I seem,
Before my exit scream.


Birthing Pains
by Loveson G. Flower
7/21/97

Beginner's Eyes

Hello, new World. Hello, new horizons.
Hello, Mr. Tree where I will fly to, to rest my wings.
Hello, new Seeds. Hope you can find
Sweet, moist welcoming Soil for your Journey.

Hello, fellow worms yearning to touch the Sky.
Hope one of you one day can explain it all and why
Better than me. Hope you can do it soon for me!
Hello, new friends that don't mind my See,

Even accept, maybe even appreciate, my fluttering.
Hello; new Loves, new Hopes, new Joys,
New Understandings, new Seeds, new Flowers.
I hope to Love, Hope, Enjoy, Understand,

Plant and Smell the roses like I'm brand new.
Beginner's eyes. Not knowing so much that
I miss the most obvious and important things.
The feel of sweet Soil through my fingers.

The smells of fresh Life. The bugs. The humus.
The little spider whose Universe is between
The Leaf of one plant and the stem of another.
It's always a marvel how Mother Spider does that.

Does She jump? Does she crawl 50 times the distance of the web
Down one stem, across the ground and up the next?
Hope to weave my web with just a teeny bit as much grace.
Thank you, Sumi. You'll be with me always.


Beginner's Eyes
by Loveson G. Flower
7/19/97

Soul Journey

Everything is a cycle. Pulsating bicycle.
Watch the rising action. Conflict-Separation.
Sometimes up. Sometimes Down.
Now I'm hero. Now a clown.

First comes tension, then depression.
The Remembering and Mirroring.
Planting Seeds for Seeing. For my Truth speaking.
For disowned parts, Loving.

Learning to Surrender. Loving every member.
Of inner-outer Family. Hoping all can See.
Wishing all could be, free to know themselves.
Loving all their elves.

Then when student is ready, Master comes real steady.
Time for Birth is here. Dream Awake the Seer.
Open up the Flower. Face the Sun to Shower.
All the beauty See. Is this really me?

Learning now to fly. Let's not wonder why.
Declare my graduation. Wholeness jubilation.
Merging with the Feminine. Surging Ego lies down.
Getting Whole enough. A sweet, Wholeness Birth.

And when the Process' done, we find that We are born.
We're Whole, Awake & Flying. Seer Butterfly Soul Journey.
And in the beautiful Sky, We fly awhile until We die.
Seeing all that We can see. Loving all Her majesty.

And when it's over,
We go to sleep.
Enveloped in Gaia's
Loving arms to keep.


Soul Journey
by Loveson G. Flower
7/18/97

Welcome to the World

She called and wants to get together.
See how stormy is the weather.
I'm a little scared but want to try.
Hope she might See & help me Fly.

Right now I'm in some distress.
"I'm giving birth to Whole" process.
It would be nice to hold her hand,
While Baby comes into this Land.

I have to breathe, in and out.
I'm crying much but want to shout.
The pain is great. I don't know why.
Am I dying? Why can't I fly?

What's to be next? I guess I'm scared.
For all of this am I prepared?
For slings and arrows that'll surely come.
Remember Jesus' Father abandoned.

Most think He was speaking of God.
I believe he might have saw
That the skeptic, power, thinking Mind;
Who is real hard and seldom kind

Crushed the Flower in the Bloom.
There is no Heart. There is no room
For all this foolishness to hear.
Just shut your mouth. Close eyes of Seer.

You're Looking strange. Your eyes are wide.
It seems you can see inside.
And it makes me crazy what you say.
You must be lazy. You're not OK.

We have armies & thought control;
& surging profits, but you speak of Soul.
That's no where in our equation.
What's all this 'bout jubilation?

I'll close my eyes and shut my ears.
Don't want to see or hear your tears.
I can't let go. I hold on tight.
What about lust and all my might?

I've worked my life for all these things.
And now you want me to make Wings?
What about Life, real Babies, Wife?
Can we hold both and not have strife?

Don't want to become guru now.
Think living simply is just how
I would live if really wise.
Humble. Quiet. Knowing surmise.

My head is aching from the pain.
Remember Body, Heart and Mind.
Merging all to become One.
Welcome to the World, dear Loveson.


Welcome to the World
by Loveson G. Flower
7/18/97

We're All One

Just two more weeks,
Feel some panic.
How can I give birth?
Symbolic or living death?

How to make the passage?
How to shake my visage
That has lived always,
Been my comfort and chains?

He may be a Monster,
But he's my Monster.
Just a grizzly bear.
Huggable for my she-bear.

The baby wants to come out.
Not to make a fuss and shout.
But to gently rock & grow.
To see Life. Be Alive and so

Become the fair Butterfly.
Test her wings. Meet the Sky.
See all things from high above.
Understand Love from Gaia's glove.

Once we were a worm below.
In the tall grass, a World down low.
Never-minding what we saw:
Beautiful beetles, Robin's fierce claw.

But now We've changed. Oh my!
Look at the Sunset in the Sky.
It's so glorious. So grand.
Now, We even understand.

That my homeland down below,
Is just like everyone's dear home.
It was my Universe.
Thought that's all. Chapter & Verse.

But now I realize, We're All One.
Connected to Gaia in Love.
One Whole Creature. Everything.
It's so Joyous. Want to Sing.

Wish you could See with my eyes,
All the World's beneath Her Skies.
Then you might find you agree.
And fly yourself and Sing with me.

But I know my time in the air,
Won't last long. But I'm not scared.
For as I lay my wings to rest,
I know I flied out from the Past.

Into Love. Into Her arms.
Loving each and every charm.
And Now, She will envelop me.
She loves so much, She let me See.


We're All One
by Loveson G. Flower
7/17/97

Will Work for Hugs & Kisses

Loveson G. Flower. Is this my new name?
Has all my Heart and no fame.
Not a Nom-de-Plum
but a Nom-de-Bloom.

Want to be anonymous.
Avoid all Glory's octopus.
Whose arms might entangle me in Her grasp.
Choking my breathing into just gasps.

And without fresh energy,
Losing my synergy.
I would be lost,
At a high cost.

And if there's money,
From gathering honey
To help my bear cubs
Grow and play enough.

Then need to find way,
To not Ego pay.
So he will feel grand,
Bust his buttons with his stand.

And with his swelled head,
We likely would get dead.
Just again a sad sack.
The Man-child has come back.

It might be self-flattery,
To believe others might want to See,
Feel and Hear my Heart Songs
In my many days old, nasal twang.

And I might have to pay
Allot more than I'm paid,
To help these dear Seeds,
Be sent off while I grieve.

But just in case inflows
Equal or chase outflows,
We must be prepared,
Like a Boy Scout who cared.

Prevent Ego's pay. Keep him away.
No money, power, or sexual shower
Can we let come in. Although not a sin,
They might endanger, and prevent sight Seer.

We work for Hugs and sweet Kisses,
(Not the ones from young misses).
But from all the kids,
Inside my eyelids.


Will Work for Hugs & Kisses
by Loveson G. Flower
7/17/97

A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing

In my Garden, there is a lone,
SunFlower bloom tall.
All the rest there, are still growing.
No flowers at all.

The tall Flower, lonely tower,
Facing to the Sun.
He's so alive. He sure has thrived.
Beat all in the run.

Does he show them, the dear road then?
How to follow path?
And do they sneer, say: "Hey, look here!"
Laughing in their wrath?

"What does he think? His shit don't stink?
A pretty dilettante?
Come down back here, and have a beer.
Forget then all that rot.

Your petals yellow, you must mellow.
Only green's allowed.
Forget your game. Just be the same.
You're crazy or you're foul!"

And might there be, another see,
a second contingent there
That starts to pray, and heads to lay,
To worship ground he shares?

They believe in "Him," and then do dim,
Themselves not to see.
"He must be God. We'll make our job,
To praise 'His' every sneeze."

Do both the groups: the skeptic loops,
The groupie followers
Miss the message, the real visage,
Of lonely SunFlower?

Can it be true, message to fools,
Open your eyes to See
That we all can, grow from the sand,
And open wise to East

Our own Flowers, and then tower,
Our season in the Light?
Reflecting all, the Light that falls,
Upon our reasoned sight.

Can Jesus, Buddha, and Mohammed;
And other giants then
Have been such tools, and we were fools,
And didn't understand?

That the message, was a passage,
Sign to show the way.
Not to worship, outside Kingship,
But in growth's wisdom play.

Learn the stories. Sing the heart praise.
Look beneath the myth.
The inner truths, our wise Sheep's tooth,
Disguised in wolf's ancient truth.

A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing
7/16/97
by Loveson G. Flower






A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing











Lonely Sunflower photo from: http://www.jbgorganic.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/52709-0091-400x300.jpg
A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing photo from: http://snoringwalrus.com /creations/photoshop/morphing/swong3c.jpeg

Bank's Fool

Feeling kinda isolated.
Feeling all alone.
Sitting at McDonald's, surrounded by kid's fun.

All these little ones,
Sure do like it here.
Is there any wonder we grow fat and love our beer?

For here is where our choices are.
Would you like it Super Size?
And out there we must do bidding of Boss and other guys.

Who always change their faces
But Demanding stays the same.
Pay the Mortgage, bow to Landlord, hide from creditor game.

If make graph of interest
That you pay through the years,
At 7% it mounts to a mountain of sad tears.

The logarithmic growth
Keeps us all in denial.
A slave to banks and bills, their thirst is never full.

They have a "Truth in Lending" act
That says they must inform.
But if my brain can't stand the pain, I just sign the form.

I suppose it's all legal
And I'm just a dumb fool,
With Stanford MBA who can't read small printed drool.

But maybe it's the strategy,
The boring legalese.
Only one in ten will read and less comprehend with ease.

Especially the results
Of a life buried in debt,
Never finding space for freedom, and my Life to get.

What about my True Life's Work,
And not this dreadful job?
I can't risk changing now, though my insides sob.

There must be a better way,
But I haven't a clue,
To have a home, and become One, while not being Bank's Fool.




Bank's Fool
by Loveson G. Flower
7/16/97
at McDonald's, Redwood City
Cartoon by Kondelsman, 1997