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  15h Moonicorn
Sin
Come lay here be my heart
For the sounds of summer are gonna part
Winter waits upon a breath
Frosty mornings
Call in the dark
Making love to you
Beneath bluebell sheets
Let me tell you how I love
Holding close the soul
That fires my dreams
As hazel eyes
Drown me in
Need
Moonicorn 15h
Purr, pal,

I can feel the pain
when our first fur fell
,

hell
so bright
,

everyone could tell
the well of sensation
in our undressed baring -
they kept staring in a frequency of shock,
let me tell you, it must have been
the collective
in the splintering of
heart coat rocks.

Purr, pal, purr for free,
for the free of you and me
and for the chains
to fall a
part

healing in this place,
where it can be,
the truth of countless different shapes
coming together
in all these river ways
of our knowing
naked
face.

Five rose
leaves.

We'll meet the fountain tree,
showering in the embracement
of its white light pouring crown,

every leave, a stream
back into
one heart.

We'll watch the orchid wick,
feel ourselves to garden
the same song
transforming into
the same song
in its multitude
of flowering
among.

We'll kiss and kiss again,
weaving bridges
with keys in our eyes
and one heart in our hands.

Purr, pal,
I can feel the pain,
when our first fur fell,

why oh let
the sunrise set
before our earth has turned...

Purr, pal, purr for free,
for the free of you and me
and for the chains
to fall a
part
in our infinitely loving
heart
.
  Nov 27 Moonicorn
Nat Lipstadt
~ For Eliot York~
& Sally and Patty m
who convinced me to post it


The answer my friend is
but one,
just one.

Blessed are those who bless you.
I say it.
20 times a day,
and sometimes 2000


I have lived this life,
afraid to fail,
and in doing so,
in deed, because of it,
failed repeatedly.

yada, yada, yada,
in a gadda
da vida,
baby,
don't you know that I'll always be true.

nine lifetimes
all, longtime gone,
yet, I still talk among you all,
for which the
requiring, surviving,
is
a tiny tablet daily,
of swallowed pride, history and
adult/e/rated luck.

omnipotent natural forces,
pretend to manage human affairs
most unnaturally,
sandy gods of wind and storm
bring dämmerung's
Sturm und Drang.

these forces are the
placers, surveyors, tabulators
and ultimately the
takers
of the divine sparks within us.

yet,
before them,
on bended, torn knees,
I am humbled.

for knowing just
one read
is all it takes,
to be acknowledged and
thus begins a commencement of a life
of indentured servitude
in gratitude
to
le rêve poétique
(the dream poetic)

yet,
I.am read more oft
hundreds of times a day.
~
who could have foresaw,
prophesied this outcome,
a statistical anomaly,
that the taste of me
could be so,
miracle of miracles,
wet warm and well received.

know not this craft,
unaware of its conventions,
meter rhyme and to the
other laws of poetry,
I plead a woeful countenance,
even a willful ignorance.

yet,
here I am bowed
by the weight, of the good graces,
so many have bestowed,
from the four corners
of this Earth
and worlds beyond.

a nubile newcomer,
who long wrote to himself, for himself,
audience of
one + one = two,
the man and
his foolishness in words,
now betraying publicly
what no counselor, doctor judge or lover, lawyer ever knew,
even family.

but who are you?

plainly admit,
do not understand.

ok there is a handful times five,
we are well connected,
a small coterie who
share each others
most private painful secrets,
pari-passu-mutuel,
mots friends of faithfulness,
dare not, deign, diminish them
ever
by calling them followers,
for now they are friends

but who are the rest of you?

step forward,
identify yourself,
that upon thy neck
I may fall,
whispering in your ears,
sweet I.am thanksgiving yam-words

none of us can be a sweet poem pie
unacknowledged,
unstated, unsated, untasted
and forever believe.

it takes lioness courage
to present your naked self,
place thy head in the guillotine,
expecting the silent applause of ignorance,
expect to be ignored,
just another head in the collection basket,
accursing those who curse you with
the now quieted slaughtered lambs,
the scribe's swords of smoke,
plaintive waterwords vaporized,
seeds unplanted,
the bleating sounds silenced.

He crouched, he lay down like a lion
    and like a lioness; who will rouse him up?


I am a poet of the present,
you have brought me out of Egypt.

you have roused
my present days dying,
making my days of dwelling,
in the tent of Jacob,
an encampment of palm groves,
as a present
unto me.

The answer
is indeed just as you expected,
blowing in the wind,
through cedar trees beside the waters,
in the gardens, beside a river...

just one,
how thankful I.am to say,
blessed are those who bless you,
each and every
One.**

<•>
written so long ago the date was erased,
back when the journey of a thousand too long poems,
was just beginning
posted only because
a few of you insisted.
If perchance you think this is some kind of self-glorification,
then you don't get me at all.
<•>
"Good acts are like good poems.
One may easily get their drift,
but they are not rationally understood."
A. Einstein
~
"In a gadda da vida, honey
Don't you know that I'm lovin' you
In a gadda da vida, baby
Don't you know that I'll always be true

Oh, won't you come with me
And take my hand
Oh, won't you come with me
And walk this land
Please take my hand."

http://www.lyricsfreak.com/i/iron+butterfly/in+a+gadda+da+vid­a_20067936.html
~
Oh, oh
Talk to me some more
You know that you don't have to go
You're the Poetry Man
You make things all rhyme.

Read more: Phoebe Snow - Poetry Man Lyrics | MetroLyrics
~~~
Numbers 24:5-9

5 How lovely are your tents, O Jacob,
    your encampments, O Israel!
6 Like palm groves[a] that stretch afar,
    like gardens beside a river,
like aloes that the Lord has planted,
    like cedar trees beside the waters.
7 Water shall flow from his buckets,
    and his seed shall be in many waters;
his king shall be higher than Agag,
    and his kingdom shall be exalted.
8 God brings him out of Egypt
    and is for him like the horns of the wild ox;
he shall eat up the nations, his adversaries,
    and shall break their bones in pieces
    and pierce them through with his arrows.
9 He crouched, he lay down like a lion
    and like a lioness; who will rouse him up?
Blessed are those who bless you,
    and cursed are those who curse you.”
Moonicorn Nov 24
Whomever you'll choose to touch
it can never be to less or too much
you'll be enough
and will
feel enough

as even if they will not see,
I dare you to be free
and do.

But what am I talking about -
I have no clue.

Though believe me when I say

I never wanted to sue you

and the court

is denied

by

you

going for

explicit sparkles of joy.
Moonicorn Nov 24
Do you want me to stimulate the void of your own creational power,
carry you out of your built tower?

No!

Okay.
Moonicorn Nov 24
And soon we'll reject each other again,
not accepting that we're one and the same.
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