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

Steer My Own Ship

I read a quote, my heart was smote,
With the Truth it said:
That reason for, argument's war.
And why it hasn't fled

Is that because, both sides have flaws.
Isn't this the trick?
This argument, and disagreement,
Wouldn't last a lick,

Without fuel, to fire pull
Both sides in their pain.
We see the wrong, in other's song,
But miss my own flame.

"You're burning me. Why can't you see?
The damage that you do?
I see your smoke. My eyes you poke.
Our friendship now is through."

Out of the flue, the ashes do,
Fly to part's unknown.
"It's all your fault. Look at your salt.
Point at my pepper don't!"

This seasoning, Life's reasoning,
To improve our food
Might be lost then. Thrown in trash can,
Soul's nourishing soup.

Can I dare to, turn mirror to
My own burning house?
See my flames here, my false aim's fear
And stop cat and mouse?

That kills her care, from my flames here,
And doesn't own my stuff.
Oh sure there are, some flames o'er there.
That truth is not enough.

Before we fix, another's tricks,
Let's focus where it counts.
I can but steer, my own ship clear.
And her flames must she put out.


Steer My Own Ship
by Loveson G. Flower
7/16/97

Can the Tree See the Forest?

I've stayed away all day,
From my normal life to play,
In a different ambiance,
To see differently my dance.
For change illuminates structure.
At the borders can I see clear.

It is this way in every field.
To see the Building, its wisdom yield,
Stand on the gang plank above the street,
Connecting to the Building's mate.

To see her shape and height and depth;
Her colors, fountains, and different paths
Are only obvious outside.
The Forest's lost to Trees inside.

They're lost in their own universe.
To grow their branches and quench their thirsts.
And might not know or realize,
The larger wholeness beneath the skies.

The Physics Ph.D. does know;
Important stuff, his brain real grown.
And likewise Mathematicians wise,
Understand central theses' surmise.
And Engineers of all the fields,
Struggle for years learning field's yields.

And Historians read many books;
Write papers, think & believe they've looked
At so much stuff that they're real smart.
But where is the History of their own heart?

Economics, Finance and Poetry Romance,
Are subjects that require study's dance.
And all the other fields learned,
Strive to have their students ferment.

So that when their degrees do come,
Their graduated selves will be a sum
Of most the learning that teacher's know.
But is this just the beginning of grow?

For if we know a slice of life;
Do we understand Whole pie?
Can Doctors or the Ph.D.,
Be ignorant and dumb really?
About important matters to;
The Soul, for Love, for Wholeness true?

Geometry tell us all:
Three hundred sixty degrees in ball.
And we learned students must,
Eat humble pie and other's dust
Because the divided and conquered us,
Can't theorize Success or derive your Trust.

Can a Tree,
See the Forest?
Might my slice,
Still suffice?


Can the Tree See the Forest?
by Loveson G. Flower
7/9/97

Follow the Herd to Butcher

Rode my bike, not very far.
I guess it's better than by car.
I wish I could get healthy,
Not just more money wealthy.

For true wealth for sure,
Is to find a cure
To all my stagnation,
My Ego inflation.

Eating this junk food,
Although it tastes good,
Is just like that beer.
It muddles this Seer.

It calms my hunger,
A temporary cure.
But not the real thirst,
My loneliness burst,

That implodes my ambition,
Not an exploding rendition
Of healthy Heart Song.
Let's just play electric ping-pong.

Or stick-in-the-needle,
Or sexual rock-the-cradle,
Or silly sit-coms,
Or Action flicks with bombs.

There is always something,
Compelling to clip my wings.
All those smart MBAs,
Marketing PR men sway,
We domesticated cows,
with their whiz-bang Wow's.

Just look at any local store,
On average shelf or counter.
Where is the True health?
Is it all about wealth?

Not Ours but just theirs.
How come no one cares?
About us cows in the pens,
Addicted to stupid magazines.

Which fill up our brains;
With trivial, insipid refrains.
Whole universes there,
To steal attention from here.

We sit next to each other,
Watching TV's compelling smother.
Thinking we do relate.
By my side she does wait.

But what of our lives?
Our stories? Our bee hives?
The buzzing of our seeing,
Where sweet nectar might be being?

Watching Dramas or the Soaps,
Do they really help us cope?
Or do they substitute,
Real life for antidote?

And is MBA's cure,
To replace real Life's stir,
With false and glitzy product,
With a "You can't say no" addict,

Just a new slavery?
Without the chains to see?
No one's selling us on the block,
Lifting our skirts to see our Pox.
But the chains seem very real.
My Life they surely want to steal.

We call it the "Free" Market.
Orwell would smile and appreciate,
The clever misappropriation,
Of the term severed from its creation.

And any semblance,
Of a true remembrance
Of what True Freedom means.
Of how a wild bull seems.

His eyes are bright and alive;
To See, his sight does thrive.
A magnificent creature,
So different from the features

Of domesticated fools,
Stripped of all their living tools.
Our eyes are dull and dying.
Controlled is all our flying.

Just follow the herd to Butcher,
Believing we're all the richer.
Living in the dung heap.
All alone, ourselves we keep.


Follow the Herd to Butcher
by Loveson G. Flower
7/9/97
Photo of Swiss Cow by Loveson G. Flower

Your Dream Might Enlighten Me

Last night in film class, I flirted with slim lass
Who has caught my eye, even as I try
To ignore such urges,
In my Man-Child purges.

Guess I'm scared of new dances, if they're unhealthy romances.
And long for relation, that's long on elation.
And short on the blaming, and all of the aiming
To solve old child patterns; without any lanterns

To illuminate, the bugs on our plate.
My longing is to find her, alive and already stirred.
Already on a path.
Not still stuck in her wrath.

I don't mind dancing, and kind romancing
With all of her parts, and even her warts.
But is it possible, am I being gullible,
To hope for some whole, at least as the goal?

Oh sure, the words are great, that I want a little less hate,
And more understanding, not on my shoulders standing.
For my job as a hero, is more sobbing than a go.
I haven't saved anyone, and can't find the fierce dragon

To joust well and conquer, for her love to secure.
And probably I am, just like Sancho and the Man
Of La Mancha on horse, who look's ridiculous.
Jousting with windmills. Honing chilvary skills.

And pledging my Life, for fair maiden not wife.
And maiden so fair, doesn't know that I'm there.
And all of the story, the Knight's fame & glory,
Are just my blathering, my not lucid gathering

Of singular facts, woven together the cracks
To make a bizarre story, my brand new reality.
Which seems strange to all, but is precious to Paul.
So who do I listen to? Everyone else or to this dear fool?

Who's Life is it anyway? If you hate it, please just stay
On your horse skinny, pledging to your Dolcinea,
Your Love and your Heart, and let my crazy parts
Enact our own Dance. Please can you, perchance,

Let each of our Worlds, be Whole to unfurl
The Truth of our Knowing? In our dreaming going
There everyday, to hear what Life says,
When She speaks to our Souls; in our own dear, Dream Worlds?

If we don't make us wrong,
We might Love both our Songs.
And your Dream might enlighten me.
And my scream might not frightening be.


Your Dream Might Enlighten Me
by Loveson G. Flower
7/8/97
"Don Quixote" drawing by Pablo Picasso

Can I Break Free?

Want to get drunk. No more thunking.
No more depressing, and distressing,
And messing around -- I'm such a clown.
What does it all mean? That I'm cruel & mean?

That my mirror shines like fire;
And my Purpose, my Aspire -
To free all creatures including me -
Is really bullshit and baloney?

When is it my turn to be held?
My turn to love and meld?
"Seems like I've done a lot of growing.
Seems many seeds I have been sowing.

Then why is this happening? Is it really tapping in-
To the Source of Love? Where is the dove to hover
O'er me and support me? Does Father abandon me?
Are mind and boxes devouring foxes?

To pick me apart, so love cannot start?
Does Heart fade away, when Mind gets in way?
Is anger and fear,
crushing this Seer?

So blinded with rage, I go back in the cage
And scream "Let me out!" Kick the bars & shout.
And all of the time, I cannot find
the open cage door, through my raging roar.

All the time, it was open. It was me who I penned.
And my holding on tight, to the bars showed my fright
To fly out those doors;
To some, unknown shores.

The frightening cage, the object of rage
And all of my hate, my appalling fate
Of being locked in, from their labeled sins
Was really my own; fenced-in self, disowned.

Not allowed to come home, not even just to phone
Loved ones for their sound, for fear of being bound
By any more chains,
Of any more shame.

These words may be nice, but can't quite suffice
To describe my heart's pain, sick from the cold rain.
I want to explain.
Whisper softly. Exclaim.

But my sadness exceeds, my voice and my need
To make any difference. And the strength of my fence
Kills the strongest bonds, and ties down my new wings.
How can I break free? Open door, where's the key?


Can I Break Free?
by Loveson G. Flower
7/6/97
"A Cage is no place for Wildlife!" Photo from www.billybear4kids.com/animal/squirrel/no-cage

Swept Far Away

Feel kinda sad. Maybe really bad.
Slept all afternoon, in my hot and stuffy room.
Don't know why my life is flat.
Is this something about Pat?

Seems she's gone for good.
With no word, no signal did
She attempt to connect with me.
Guess she's gone to forever leave.

I'm in denial. I think that I'll,
Find her there, again to care.
But as the days and weeks go by,
It's hard to fool this fool and lie.

I feel so low, a worthless soul,
And wonder what should be my goal.
To keep on changing & rearranging:
All my selves, the elves, keep aging?

Or should I stop, and hop back to,
The old, familiar, "normal" fool?
Some part says no. It's impossible to,
Put Humpty Dumpty back in his shoes.

And all the King's horses, and all of his men,
Couldn't do it. So how can my old self mend?
And my suffering pain, seems familiar again.
And I wonder if my reaction shows my heart's oldest shame.

For all of my life, has this stripe of strife:
That whenever I change, my heart's cut with a knife.
Seems something about me; is much, much too scary.
So close ones abandon; cut and run and don't tarry.

Perhaps there are flaws, related to my claws,
And they're afraid I will hurt them if even they pause.
And it doesn't matter, how I plead or I flatter,
And try to understand their heart's dear, dear patter.

Perhaps it's because, my eyes see the flaws,
In the wounded dance, the broken romance.
And by speaking my truth, of seeing so ruth-
Lessly I am caught, in the maelstrom and not

Able to swim home. The tornado has come,
And thrust all away. It's impossible to stay.
So I'm swept far away, like Dorothy and Todo to stay,
In a strange, new land; that I must now understand.

And my growth is accelerated,
But the sling shot hasn't ameliorated
The devastating memory
Of my lost, abandoned Family.


Swept Far Away
by Loveson G. Flower
7/3/97