Buy Gold by Howard Katz

Poem
By Howard Katz


The time has come; it is our fate
To welcome in 2008.
This is the year, below I prove,
When gold mine stocks do make their move.

2005, year-end got hot.
Gold mining stocks moved up a lot.
And gold investors got their kicks
In first 4 months, 2006.

2007, things got warm.
A giant triangle did form.
On Labor Day, this is no joke,
Then out that triangle it broke.

As New Year's holiday comes neigh,
We find that gold is very high.
To tell you this it does behoove,
Gold mining stocks will make their move.

Cause word is out around the town.
The U.S. dollar's going down.
Just like the bad old days of yore,
Bernanke makes the people poor.

Important message of this poem:
You can't afford to own your home
Unless you're taking action bold
And buying mining stocks of gold.

Poem
By Howard Katz
from: www.thegoldbug.net
December, 2007

This poem by Mr. Katz is presented because we believe it artfully tells important truths of our economic state and future that are beyond my ability to express. -- LG Flower


Traduction Anglais-Français fait automatiquement avec aide des outils linguistic de Google. Pour voir la traduction plus grande, cliquez sur le page blanc.

Translation English-French automatically made with help from linguistic tools of Google. To see the translation larger, click on the white page.

Life Lived as One

If I would fall in love,
Would the sky be enough?
Would all the moon and stars
Bring Paul's sufficient care?

If living is an action,
What gift is my reaction?
To the darkness there
When too little care;

My hurt kids inside,
Too burnt to ever cry,
To feel all the pain,
Still realing from shame;

Do somehow object
To love's foul subjects.
Pointing out the flaws
Of new loves because

They are broken too.
Like awoken fool
Who now understands
The cruel unloved lands

That we all came from
When we sought the Sun.
But we found shadow;
Not abundance shown

Of the Light of Love
With night's darkness stuff.
Our trees were twisted
From being's blister.

And our shadow kids,
Even though they're hid,
Come on out to play
In own cruel, cute way.

When they see new threat
Like when were begot,
When they were then born
From our fear, forlorn.

What do we try to say?
Please Spirit cry today
And explain our Truth
Of Love's rain pursuit.

Is it still possible
To now feel lovable?
To then become as One
With friend, loved someone?

Do we've enough courage
To be love past the rage;
And hold on real tight
Through cold, killing fright?

Which brings the kids out.
Them singing with shouts,
Their songs of dispair
Of wrongs when love dared.

They feel like before,
Before killed in wars.
When became a corpse,
Shamed beyond remorse.

How can we all say yes?
Inner family of Paul bless
A new love affair,
And let in love there?

If we let all speak,
Won't ugly ones tweak
And destroy the hope
Of boy by being dope?

Please love's inspiration,
Don't tease by your Vision;
And not stay to make
A clear way to say

What the Light could be
If our Sight could See.
That the Love could grow
Enough to then know

That a man and wife
Understanding might
Really become Whole;
Feeling Loving's know.

And the practical
Differences shall
Soon be washed away
If we attach ways.

If would become Team
Which would let being
Have a greater goal
Than individual,

With Life lived as One,
A Wife and Husband,
No longer then two
Discordant songs fool;

With Love's resonance
and Love's loving dance;
Love's Music to hear;
Love's beauty to cheer.

To inspire more
The desire for
A world wonderful.
Where her Wonder's full.

Where she's so happy;
There's no need to be
Depressed from the pain
Of childhood's cruel shame.

Time to go and say
I'm whole enough today,
And I deserve to Love
Unreserved enough.

That bonfire burns
And inspire churns
Past the past darkness
To at last Love's bless.
Pulled by Love's witness,
Held each child confessed,
With no wild child's death.
Whole inner family's blessed.


Life Lived as One
by Loveson G. Flower
11:00 Sunday, 6 January 2008
Home in Artiller before lunch with Anne.
Starry Night painting by Vincent Van Gogh.






Traduction Anglais-Français fait automatiquement avec aide des outils linguistic de Google. Pour voir la traduction plus grande, cliquez sur le page blanc.

Translation English-French automatically made with help from linguistic tools of Google. To see the translation larger, click on the white page.

Becoming Maggie

My little puppy, Maggie dear,
Can't seem to leave. She does stay here.
She doesn't die, although she's old.
I wonder why? She love's me so.

Is it because, she needs to see
That her loved Paul OK will be?
She must hold on to help him know
His love is strong, then she can go?

It makes me cry, this fantasy.
After she dies when I'm missing;
Have then I learned the Truth of Love,
Or be so burned no Truth's enough?

To lose someone who's so loyal,
Whose loving sum's beyond royal;
Does seem a cross I cannot bear;
A bitter loss nothing repairs.

Unless somehow I find within,
Her love is now my shining kin.
I become her to never lose -
Blended we are. No love refuse.

And I can then go on with life
Without my friend, through every strife;
Because she's here. She'll never leave.
Inside my tears. Inside my grief.

Inside my efforts to be whole.
I'll cry. I'll comfort those I know.
I'll be my Maggie every day.
My tail I'm wagging to then say:

You're worthy. Yes, really you are.
You're worth I'm feeling. You're a star.
You can shine bright like the Sun.
You are kind. My friend, become.

Become whatever your Spirit shows.
Become creator. Let it go.
Become the Love seen through my eyes.
Then I can run through heaven's skies.

I'll run and play with Jessie then.
We'll wait for day when you come friend.
But don't forget to live and love.
Please don't regret what life does shove.

We've had so much time together.
Grieving's sad touch, stormy weather;
Will pass away. The Spring will be
And you can play and be happy.

And I can rest forever more.
It's for the best. Let Spirits soar;
And fly away to memory.
All Life's someway ephemory.

It cannot last. We can't hold on.
With tears and laughs we must be strong.
And hold the little ones who hurt then.
Who're cold and bitter, feel deserted.

It's Love that really never dies.
Our bodies plastic are love's ties.
They last awhile like forest leafs
But then like smiles they have to leave.

Please let me go. Please find a way
To become Whole, to shine, to say;
To write our Love, for all to know.
Our Light of Love, Maggie-Paul showed.

It hasn't died. It's not over
Though I do lie in field clover.
It will exist forever more.
Please feel my kiss, my Love adored.
You will find bliss past Love's horror.
Please feel Mind-Body-Heart Love more.




Becoming Maggie
by Loveson G. Flower
3:00 PM Wednesday, 2 January 2008
Home in Artillier with Maggie at my side.
Photos taken at Chez René et Artlett and at Les Zeribas, Spring 2007




Traduction Anglais-Français fait automatiquement avec aide des outils linguistic de Google. Pour voir la traduction plus grande, cliquez sur le page blanc.

Translation English-French automatically made with help from linguistic tools of Google. To see the translation larger, click on the white page.


Music: Wilhelm Richard Wagner's "Tannhauser" - Begluckt Darf Nun Dich (Pilgrims' Chorus) = Johannes Wildner; Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra, Bratislava - A To Z Of Opera [Disc 2]

Never, Never Seen

There seems to be a way, that I descend today,
Far into abyss, something is amiss.
Sold some of the gold, to be somewhat bold
So that I can spend, reasonable end.

But before it's sold, the ore that's named gold
Has fallen again. Striking panic then.
It's a reminder, of the real terror
In 2001, when lost those millions.

Had more than could spend. Was so secure then
Thought impossible, that losses could fall.
10+ Million gone, in a few months long
Now with 10%, I can pay my rent.

As I own my house, and don't spend like louse
Who is so needy, or awful greedy.
I live like peasant, with little presents
That I give myself, and live off the shelf.

But I need new clothes, and a few apples
To make my life go. To let the strife go.
My life Spiritual is like bitter pills,
That I must swallow - So to Trust, Allow.

I can say the words, but delay the cure
Of really to be, without fear / wanting.
I like to be free, financially;
And to stay at home, to play until some

New World does arrive. But can I survive
All this worrying, without curing me?
I lose confidence, of my Wonder's dance.
So I don't Heart Song. Don't do Art too long.

So all the problems, rob Paul's songs again.
And we return to where, were lost with no care.
Where Mom wasn't there. Couldn't listen here.
She didn't know how. Couldn't show love now.

Except in her way: distant with no play.
Just her presence there. Not extended care.
She was a child hurt. Parents never heard
Her expressions too. She never learned to

Listen to her kids or to herself then.
Wasn't possible to know losses pulled
From all of the pain when ignored in shame;
From the fear of more, tears and real horror.

So just the silence. No trust in Love's dance.
That could uncover, family lovers.
It is still the same. But it killed the game.
We can't e're connect. Cannot ever let

The others to know, what Love's missing so.
It is just my fault. Trust locked in a vault
With key thrown away. Can't loan anyway
For I've lost it all. It the cost and fall

Far from pedestal. When then little Paul
Was dad's big hero. The lad tried to go
Way over the hill, before we were killed.
To save family, especially me.

But no one could hear, past their own dark fears.
So they ran away. Soul's Way didn't play.
All our religion, was just word's undone;
In hypocrisy - to sock little me.

But my outer self with successes held
Before everyone, before was undone;
Were just masking all of the pain of Paul.
Who was crying out, with whispers and shouts

To family silent. Trying then to dent
The armor around all our silent clowns
That we kept out there, to keep stress under
The rude breaking point of Truth's earthquake boy.

Who always said too, much of his dead Truth.
Was unpopular. As we lost the war.
Until it was gone. Never any Song.
No real family. Killed by Never Seen.

Never Seen by them. Never Seen even
By near anyone. Couldn't clearly come
To a reckoning. Or Reconciling
To finally be some more family.

So in paradise, where I've finally died
Here in the Nature, where Beauty's so clear;
I find o'er again, Mind-Heart will not blend
As I keep away, weeping's grieving's way.

I hope to break out. Make the dope not cow.
To spiral upward, to more loving world.
But the Shadow knows what the lads oppose;
And it does demand Spirit come undamned.

So the water flows, after laughter goes.
And Maturity, comes to every
Part inside and out. Mind-Body-Heart now
To find Unity. To shine completely.
Heart-Mind to really, find Loving in me.

Clown Family


Never, Never Seen
by Loveson G. Flower
in artillier at Les Zeribas
6:00 PM Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Photos fm: http://galpano.vision-360.net/data/media/5/V_3clowns.jpg
http://smileclowns.org-images-ca2cast.jpg

Descend Into Dark

"Meantime we shall express our darker purpose."

-- King Lear - Act 1, Scene 1 by William Shakespeare

So we do descend, into dark then
Way below the Light, even though not night.
Is it depression? Surely regression
Far below our goals. War, we know, the foe.

It seems familiar, this depressing war
Where no one escapes. It is far too late.
For the bombs do fall. Horror, run, appall
Are our lone choices. Lonely tone voices.

Makes no difference. Our fate’s sent to us
By the falling bomb. By the waiting tomb.
We can only wait, for death’s lonely gate.
How fast will it come? Will it last undone?

Will it be real slow? Killing’s painful show
Tortured by the time, by the horror crime.
That stole Liberty, Freedom’s wholeness tree,
With her branches strong to support our songs.

But they’ve killed the roots, in greedy pursuits.
The trunk is falling. No one is holding.
Can’t be any leaves, fruits or flowering
Without all the rest. Without Freedom’s Quest.

When there’s no justice, then there is ‘just us.’
No rights in system, that insists Freedom
Isn’t worth the price. Where serfs are then diced
On the cutting block. Can’t let Love unlock

The huge potential, of the human hell
That wants to be free, mankind’s Liberty.
The real terrorists, aren’t the bitter kids
Who are throwing stones at huge tanks alone.

But the powerful, who use power well
To rain hate and fire, shameful fate inspired.
Bringing forth the dark, sing horrible parts
That must keep control. No trust in our Whole.

Is this now the end? Somehow cowed and bent
Like old Prufrock’s song. Not an explosion.
But with a whimper, living ends its world.
Fading in retreat. Way of Souls' defeat.

The old religions, who’ve stolen millions
Of their spiritual, loving potential;
Will they realize, their ways are such lies?
With the lust and pride finally must die?

And take us with you, in a way so cruel
That forever hell doesn’t repay well
All the damage done to man’s lost Freedom;
For his ignorance, from your “holy” dance.

That was but charade, to Love’s real parade.
From the real Wisdom that really transcends.
That is not a trick, something oh, so sick
Using mind control, to bind abused fold.

Freedom is to think; to become, to blink.
Not just stayed wide-eyed, cruelly hypnotised.
Sitting in the pew, letting “sin” be spewed
By the hate agent, to forsake Love sent

Then to each inside. When our loving cries
Are all bottled up by their call’s dogma
To trust only them. Not lone reasoning.
Trust but verify. Uncover the lies.

Follow only Truth, only Truth’s pursuit.
For our ignorance, is war’s only chance
Of then destroying, Freedom’s love soaring.
Mankind’s real nature: Loving, healing world.

Where we are allowed, every man and child
And each woman too, to be then a fool
But also to grow into adult Soul
With Wisdom’s discern, to real Wisdom learn;
Our Freedom to earn, not killed from Love burned.


Descend Into Dark
by Loveson G. Flower
Wednesday 6:00 AM June 13, 2006
Home in bed

Palestine boy photo from:
http://img100.imageshack.us/img100/8775/palestineboyvstankmx1.jpg
T-i-a-n-a-n-m-e-n S-q-u-a-r-e (C-e-n-s-o-r-e-d?) man photo:
http://bieniosek.com/gallery/albums/album15/t-i-a-n-a-n-m-e-n_tank_1.sized.jpg

a Ballet of Love Becoming - un ballet de devenir d'amour

a Ballet of Love Becoming  

un ballet de devenir d'amour

I had an inspired idea that came
To advance to higher Love and aim:
To break the "Light of Love" apart.
For Love's sake. For Sight's sake. 
For Mind-Body-Heart.

The are 10 main chapters of our Love Ballet.

Each carefully arranged to show our Love's way.

As Gabrielle, our Spirit child, dances through

Past abandonment's hell, through dark night oh-too-cruel.

She first must face and hold all her Shadow,

And thrust the sword so bold with mirror's foe.

The Shadow has four directions in all:

The dark and bright; Horror and Wisdom's call.

And even after she has earned her wings,

Believing the chapter cruel is done burning,

The Shadow returns again and again.

A Spiral that churns light and darkness blend.

Then comes the becoming of Love and Light.

Sunflower Love dancing changing the night.

In transition from Candlelight into, 

She wins position to let Love's Light pull.

The dawn of Loving and Wholeness begins

Upon Loves dancing together as friends.

Anima, Animus; inner Lovers,

Hand in Hand each to bless one another.

Then in her last dance as dear Unity,

She extends advance past Shadow's fearsome be.

Wearing Shadow's armor and wings of gold,

She's dancing with Love's Light. Bring warm Love when cold.

She states our bold Purpose of Life to us all.

Don't wait then in cold woe from dying's cruel fall.

She directs our Symphony with Light and sword

To send Love's Wisdom See to help right Man's world.

After these 8 chapters in her body,

The "Light of Love" happens spiritually.

The Light is in our hands. It always was,

If Sight of Understanding Paul follows.

But even in the full Spiritual world,

The drama unfolds to let Spirit come hold.

The lonely Light almost does go away,

Dying in night where no energy stays.

But suddenly at the darkest moment,

Loved friends bring lonely Light their blessings sent.

So Light evolves and grows ever brighter.

Wisdom's Sight revolves in spiraling world.

Then with grand chorus the Climax arrives.

Light lives to show Man way Love never dies.

Energy rearranging yet again.

Synergy of changing. Letting Go. Friends.

Our bodies die. Our loved ones disappear.

But Love survives. Let go desire, fear.

Help is on the way. We're never alone.

Let Hell go away. Your Heaven is shown.

What we dream becomes our reality.
Love's Seeing can be Sun's (Son's?) eternity.

We are a part of Universal dance.

Mind-Body-Heart sent Love to cure, enhance.

In final chapter we must give credit

For ever after, for what loved friends did.

We stand on shoulders of those gone before.

Gabrielle with Love's Light doesn't need sword.

Understand Night of Death is not horror....

....And Life's a Ballet of Love Becoming more.

..

a Ballet of Love Becoming
by Loveson G. (Gabrielle) Flower
Thursday, 3:00 PM, 7 June 2007
in the car at the seashore, La Brusc, France

DVD cover art and 16 frames (from over 40,000 still frames) from "Light of Love - a ballet of Love Becoming" an animated, musical ballet by Loveson G. (Gabrielle) Flower published for friends and family in September, 2005.

Light of Love - a Ballet of Love Becoming 

by Loveson G. (Gabrielle) Flower

English-French Translation by (Traduction anglais-français par) Google Translate

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.

Love Will Never End

I'm at the Sea, with loved Maggie.
Where she went for a swim.
She still survives at 95
If dog years were human.

Their lives go fast, into the past.
Then are memory.
I'll have to cry, when my love dies,
When lonely for Maggie.

I am not sure that I'll endure
The loss of Maggie dear.
A world empty of her loving
Is a cost so (too?) dear.

I wish that I also would die
At the same moment.
A fitting end to quit with friend
And not stay lonely man.

Not suicide. That can't abide
With Life's Love Wisdom.
For that desire must sure require
Strife by wounded one.

Who wants to die. But it's a lie
To think that is all.
It's just one part. Not family's heart
Of inner family, Paul.

Need to Let Go. Let Bleed our Soul
From a wound so large.
But then to heal, then blend and kneel
Thankful we found Soul's charge.

Dear Maggie girl, you are my world
That's coming to an end.
Swim out to sea. Soon there I'll be
With Jessie and your friends.
Our Love will never end.


Love Will Never End
by Loveson G. Flower
Thursday, 2:00 PM 7 June 2007
in the car at the seashore, La Brusc

Poem By Howard Katz

Poem
By Howard Katz
The time has come; it is our fate
To welcome in 2008.
This is the year, below I prove,
When gold mine stocks do make their move.

2005, year-end got hot.
Gold mining stocks moved up a lot.
And gold investors got their kicks
In first 4 months, 2006.

2007, things got warm.
A giant triangle did form.
On Labor Day, this is no joke,
Then out that triangle it broke.

As New Year's holiday comes neigh,
We find that gold is very high.
To tell you this it does behoove,
Gold mining stocks will make their move.

Cause word is out around the town.
The U.S. dollar's going down.
Just like the bad old days of yore,
Bernanke makes the people poor.

Important message of this poem:
You can't afford to own your home
Unless you're taking action bold
And buying mining stocks of gold.

At turn of month, good things did bode,
And gold and silver did explode.
The candles showed a bozu day.
It was the very end of May.

When I looked at the XAU,
I knew exactly what to do.
The same result – get in and buy –
From looking at the HUI.

So all the bulls their muscles flex.
It’s showing in the GOX.
A double bozu on the chart
Doth show that we are very smart.

So gold bugs, gold bugs, shout hurray.
It started at the end of May,
Continued on the 1st of June
Upon the fullness of the moon.

And if you wanted more to see:
Explosion in the CRB.
The nicest thing I’ve ever seen,
With crude and wheat and coffee bean.

And over in financial pit
The bonds were falling (took a hit).
For when commodities are gay,
T-bonds will go the other way.

And Canook dollar (ain’t no jive)
Is closing in on 95.
Cause US dollar, you all know,
Is heading for an all-time low.

The Shanghai market (sakes alive)
Has just begun to take a dive.
SSEC (news just been sent)
Is down another 8%.

They’re whispering all over town
That Ben Bernanke wears a frown.
His job it is not to be nice
But keep a firm control of price.

So how come Ben you do not know
One can’t make wealth by printing dough?
And why do you manipulate
The level of the interest rate?

The BLS will tell you Ben
Crude prices rise beyond your ken.
These prices make their way of late
To goods in intermediate.

And finally prices passed on through
Consumer goods, from them to you.
And that is why you are a chump.
We all can see it at the pump.

Don’t blame the gougers; that’s not nice.
They are not causing rise in price.
The man to blame, we all know who,
That man to blame, that man is you.

Cause you’re the one who prints the dough,
And that is something we all know.
Yes, printing money’s very bad.
It makes the people very sad.

We all do know; you are the gent
Who doubles up the people’s rent.
So to protect myself, you see,
I load up with commodity.

Because my stocks have now been sold,
And I am sitting tight with gold.
When everything is done and said,
See who it is comes out ahead.

And if you folks would like to know
Just how to make a lot of dough.
Then visit thegoldbug.net,
And you will find you win your bet.

Soon stocks and bonds will both be down,
Commodities, the game in town.
And gold will soar. I tell you that’s
The honest truth,

From,
Howard Katz













Poem
By Howard Katz
from: www.thegoldbug.net and www.kitco.com
Jun 5 2007 9:25AM

This poem by Mr. Katz is presented because we believe it artfully tells important truths of our economic state and future that are beyond my ability to express. -- LG Flower
Photo from: www.usagold.com

Rep. Ron Paul: Don't Do It Mr. President

Honorable Ron Paul of Texas before the U.S. House of Representatives on February 6, 2007.

Music: "President Man" by Steve Dore of www.inflationnation.us.

Come find out why so many are impressed with the honesty, integrity, and courage of Doctor Ron Paul. He stands for real American values, Constitutional government, sane fiscal and foreign affairs policies, and all the things we Americans grew up believing a peaceful and just America stood for; like the heroic, wise, courageous characters in a Norman Rockwell patriotic painting; or Jimmy Stewart's roles in "It's a Wonderful Life" and "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington." As a Medical Doctor for over 30 years, Dr. Ron Paul sees clearly and speaks straight without a normal politician's forked tongue. For me, Dr. Paul has the stature of a John Kennedy and of a founding father of our nation. Please investigate yourself and come join us when you can.

LG Flower not affiliated with Doctor Ron Paul's presidential campaign or with Steve Dore.


Rep. Ron Paul: Don't Do It Mr. President
by Loveson G. Flower
Published 24 May 2007. After email consultation with Steve Dore and many changes, published on YouTube after over 10 attempts on Google and YouTube.

Morning Light

It’s that magic time before warm sunshine;
Between night and day;
Before Sun wakes up, puts on her make-up
To shine Light this way.

The sky’s getting blue, letting "Why" shine through.
Not only the black
That hid everything, in Dark’s offering;
Lonely’s wisdom lack.

Soon the Light will shine in boon of daytime
With questions answered.
Inadequacies, vanquished with Love Sees
Giving wonder world.

So we continue to be Seeing true
Past the nightime of;
When we couldn’t know what we wouldn’t show
From the fright of Love.

The colors do change, the world’s rearranged
From the Morning Light.
The birdies do sing. They are announcing
Their joy from the sight.

Calling to their friends: “Wake-up everyone!
For the time is here
To our world improve, to soar in Love’s groove.
Sunshine’s fine and clear!”

The cold does recede. The woe when Love bleeds
To keep Heart alive;
Is now worth the cost. Loving wasn’t lost.
Heart weeping Art’s strive

To say all our Truth. No shallow, refused
Childish attitude;
That refused to see, that when our hearts bleed;
Love’s Wish finds her food.

To become more strong, even with the wrongs
And the suffering.
Like what Rumi said, “Break heart over and
Over so to bring

My heart now alive.” To start Loving Life,
Each and every part:
The worms in the grass, butterflies at last,
Who reach flowers’ Art.

To taste their nectar, and chase their care far
Over hill and dale.
In the glory of, flying’s soaring Love;
Lover’s Will to tell

By just their being, their trust in Seeing
And their being Seen.
For it’s obvious from their flying bliss;
Their care is being

Now announced to All. Up over the walls
Past the Night time’s curse
When then in cocoon, stuck then in the room
With no Light to cure.

While we gathered strength before Caring’s race
When we could break out;
To fly in the air, to shine all our Care,
Gloriously now.
Moving to Love show.
Singing. Dancing. Wow!


Morning Light
6:00 AM, Wednesday, May 9, 2007
home in bed
Photo by E.J. Peiter from the 500 Best Photos on the Internet

Let’s Be Light Today

If we’re disciplined, and we’re having fun,
We can find a way;
To do anything with our dance and sing:
Loveson’s Mind-Heart say.


And with Gabrielle, who moves colors well,
Dancing gracefully;
Making synthesis of Mister and Miss:
Perchance face holy.

Making videos and loved Heart Song poems
That do inspire:
Sculpting any face, any sex or race
To pull higher fire.

For that is our job, our duty to sob;
To cry all the tears;
To begin the flood, to be understood;
To fly with the Seers.

Who saw the real Light; past desire, fright
To help show the Way.
So that we’re not sheep, with Souls fast asleep:
Cruelly controlled day.

Express every Truth, confess scary too
And all Shadow dark.
So that in the end, past just defense sent;
Spirtual Know starts.

From the magic of; wander, wonder Love
With courage to seek;
If we don’t give up, if we Live enough:
Become Sage complete.

Staying humble still, so no Ego kills
With unhealthy pride.
For after pride calls, comes the night that falls.
Darkness killed the Light.

But must stay with sing, Unknowing’s Going,
So more plants can grow
Past just little seeds, to become loved Trees;
A forest of Know.

Not that Truth’s achieved, in foolish belief:
A new religion;
That does shut the eyes and ears with new lies:
Foolish contagion.

Is it possible, to comprehend All
Of what's been sent here?
And then synthesize, with earned Wisdom eyes
Love past desire, fear?

With Moments of Truth, not so alone to
Never dots connect
The whole tapestry, our Soul’s way to See.
No longer neglect

What knew all along, now pulled from our Songs
To the Light of Day.
To grow evermore, and sew Loving more
From what Sight did say.
Let’s be Light today.


Let’s Be Light Today
Tuesday May 9, 2007
6 AM home in bed
Photo from 500 Best Photos on the Internet

Loveson G. (Gabrielle) Flower

Frame from 2nd Chapter of "Light of Love - a Ballet of Love Becoming"

Loveson G. (Gabrielle) Flower

by Loveson G. Flower

In two thousand and four

The question was answered

Of what “G.” did stand for:

“Gabrielle” wings did soar.

The “Light of Love” was born

From dark nights lost, forlorn

Without the use of words

To express abused worlds.

Our inner feminine,

To balance masculine,

Came out to move and dance

To improve Love’s romance.

Loveson uses his rhymes

While Gabrielle moves time.

He animates sunshine.

She dances feelings fine.

Silent expression chanced

By colors, music, dance.

Butterfly muse enchants.

Inner marriage perchance?

Anima and Animus?

Inner children’s Love fuss?

Together toward wholeness

So everyone is blessed.

From “Loveson G. Flower” plain,

Is wholeness now in our name?

Loveson, Gabrielle to aim

To Flower in Soul’s rain.

Loveson G. (Gabrielle) Flower
1:00 AM Sunday, May 6, 2007
home in bed
Still image from "Dreaming Wings of Light & Love" from animated ballet: "Light of Love" by Loveson G. Flower published for friends and family in Septermber, 2005

English-French Translation by (Traduction anglais-français par) Google Translate

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.
Pay it Forward. Breathe. Forgive. Let Go.

To Art or Not to Art

Dedicated to my friend, teacher, and hero; Rob. Who can create almost anything with his hands and even more with his loving and beloved heart.


I had a grand idea for Art;
For Love, for Understand to start;
To find a way past my morass;
To Mind-Heart say in now not past.

Perhaps I will propose to Rob
With laughs so woes that turn to sobs
Might disappear with some new goal
With light this year for gift of whole.

The revelation came like thus;
An inspiration for Love’s thrust;
We perhaps can then make a trade
To learn at last what other made.

Rob might help me to learn sculpture,
And I help him learn computer.
I found a program made for him
To sculpt and paint and then not dim

The creative juices that flow;
Though body refuses to go;
Because of age’s wear and tear
Might cause to stop from pain or fear.

To sculpt in the virtual space
Does help with death’s defying race.
To paint with Light and electrons
Let’s speed Love’s sight and can be fun.

It’s like becoming dream maker
To fight with Love’s homecoming stir.
It’s just intellegent paper
With magic pen and ink to cure

The difficulties that we have
In reality’s physics bad.
The chemicals do make us sick;
Materials, heavy and thick,

Are real expensive to manage
And might kill ideas on the page.
Because it’s so, so difficult;
The processes old physical;

Can be replaced to make the dream
Communicate what fate does scream
To Artist to express to All;
To start healing each, Large and Small.

For what is the purpose of Art?
To just get rich? famous? apart?
To commercialize a product
So consumer’s eyes jump for it?

I believe the place of Art
Is to help grieve, help wisdom start.
Exactly like the Dream Maker
Who nightly makes scenes to we stir.

Each character and symbol sent
Brings message clear to wisdom blend.
So we ever expand and grow;
Seeing in mirror so we know;

The Truth of Light and Shadow both.
Not refused Love from sadness foe
That created armor around
What child hated when wounds were found.

Then we split in different parts
Hoping to quit the fits to chart
A new avenue past the pain.
But as we grew there still was shame.

Every part owned and disowned;
The scary warts and beauty known;
All want to come to Light of Day
So man becomes what Love would say.

So how does this relate to Rob?
About our fate? About our job?
Can we help each other advance
To make Art’s Love finally dance?

We could teach other what we know
To help Love reach and wisdom grow.
Him: me sculpture beginner’s course.
Me: help him cure computer’s curse.

For starting is hard, expensive
And contrary to how bard lives.
The habits of a lifetime do
Make sad change near impossible.

“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”
This wisdom seems too cold and sick.
It’s really just a brand new way
To sculpt now with imagined clay.

Think of all the new techniques learned
That called to Rob to old ways burn.
This new, cool electronic tool
Can pull to electrify fools.

We can break apart our inertia
To understand our fate heart saw;
When we were in our higher selves;
When dreamer’s dreamed of Life to tell.

To say the most important things;
Not stay so lost but dance and sing
And write and sculpt to express what
The Light did show to bless with Love.

To let each child trapped then in stone
To become wild, to laugh, be known;
To show their love to everyone;
To know their care and scares are shown.
Let’s go to where we share care’s tone.


To Art or Not to Art
by Loveson G. Flower
1400 Tursday, March 29, 2007
at La Flambee Restaurant, Sanary sur Mer, France
"Letting Go" sculpture being sculpted by Rob Browne. Photographer unknown.

The Loving Tree

Dedicated to my best friend and heroine, Pat. Who loves so much, and who has always grown so much and so fast; that her tired heart must work very hard.


Here at the coffee shop again,
I sip coffee and think of friend.
Who isn't well with heart disease.
Who might be felled like forest trees.

They've lived so long. They've seen so much:
The birdies song, the season's touch,
While always growing every year;
Though springtimes growth, through cold winter.

Until she became oh, so grand
To see horizon's understand,
The edge of life and then beyond.
She pledged her life to healing's song.

For all the birds and animals,
She always heard their joys and wails.
Whatever state she found them in,
With loving grace, she would listen.

To help their problems go away
By her caring and holding way
By her attentive listening
She tried to give to help them sing.

The songs they sung forever more,
The wrongs undone, the solved horrors,
The understanding and the growth,
The wonder of loving to know;

They all remember started there,
The Loving Tree whose heart was shared.
Whose branches, roots, seeds, stems and leaves;
Love's Truth pursued, in them believed.

And although time perhaps does come
Past her Sunshine, her loving Sun;
All those she touched will remember
To hold and touch like loved Mentor.


The Loving Tree
by Loveson G. Flower
Saturday, 8:00 AM 29 July 2006
at Starbucks, Sacramento
Yosemite Sequoia photos from: http://photo.whiteoaks.com - vacation photos: IMG_3130.jpg and IMG_3123.jpg
Photo by humpalumpa of perhaps the world's most grand, living tree: "General Sherman" in the Sequoia National Park, California from "10 Most Magnificent Trees in the World." "General Sherman" is 275 feet (83.8 m) tall, with over 52,500 cubic feet of volume (1,486 m³), and over 6000 tons in weight being approximately 2,200 years old.
Please visit: www.neatorama.com/2007/03/21/
10-most-magnificent-trees-in-the-world/ and www.flickr.com/photos/humpalumpa/287387841/ and
www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/General_Sherman_tree

Missing Mystique

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






Dear Helen,

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

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

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

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

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

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

w/ love, Paul :)

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


The Old Man and His Dog
By: Author Unknown

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This is heaven," was the answer.

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

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

"Yes, it was beautiful."

"Nope. That's hell."

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

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

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

A Dog's Plea
by Beth Norman Harris

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paul


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



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



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

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