The Butterfly and the Bear, a Love Affair


flit flit flit the butterfly split,
from the flower to the pond,
she flew to and over, and above,
the streams of fish and the frogs
and snakes and bogs,
of muddy mashes of maggoted flashes
outside the sockets of the eyes
She blew a kiss onto the grass
and roses opened back,
unfolding fleshy layers that,
could soften peaches slack,
she wandered thus upon the hills that anyone could wonder,
why such beauty was not so much as briefly lusted thunder,
by any thing or any one that meant a slink of thought or feeling
her wings slew back away from breast
away hearts ceiling,
chaste in dealing the contemplation
of loves forlorn spigoted form
empty plenty splotches.


Gruffing growl did sound a howl
of fearful furry feral fowl
flipping flapping flopping flowing
through the streaming water teaming underweaving endless dreaming of his hovels prowl. 
Upon awake he did thus shake off dreaming dragging
dredging digs into the life he did keep lid until awaking calmly,
for why would fondly, he spring upon the hills
that uttered chills whenever he did mutter wills,
that this was that and that was not
what in all the world did matter flat or was it born asunder.
The wake wind flake and tasty cake within his scented prose
in walking back and walking forth indentured acts of snows.
frosty rows of weeping waters
slumbers woes without the shows that really mattered..
who knows,
but what might be can never glee or else it fades in blunder.
so cheer and chums were not the ones
that huddled this bears,
locus focus reddish cardic quite melodic
infernal tugging and choking mugging poking acts of flow,
for he could not be but a singluar conception
that does work ways that may be stranger,
but in the end the listless lapses in abyss of life made love no danger,
no fear, no hesitation upon the sight, upon ocassion,
that he might see a friendly tree,
ants walking free,
or simply that one worker bee
enveloped in cacoon most we...

How will these two make feast of lifes unpleasant treatments,
how will these two discover lifes not finished with,
when one has met another
for chance to be the rather
than the tarnished hope or hopeless tarn
that drowns the lover or lovers crown
in sullen gaps and gaping frown
swallowing the smitten smile and brightest clown
in all that makes ones center crate
in endless illuminations fate
this singular sensations sate
thats quintessential hunger.

We should imagine that something learned may travel far
or travelers will find a star
that hopes of wishes will not then tar
the actions that might bring them close
upon the time when worlds collide
and martians glide across our worlds inside,
whatever......it will go on...


Choose Love, and be a Happy Clown.