She wanders tranquil as the seas,
Floating on the nimble breeze.
She engulfs her spirit through a field,
Majestically she begins to yield.
She does not stop for man or beast,
And oxygen is her only feast.

She steps upon the sky upward soar,
With effervescent motion in her core.
Dragged from heaven she has sent,
Her love to all, whom would repent.
Roses in her raiment, delightful kiss,
Buoyant floral scatter into bliss.

Auric skin shining gallantly,
Spumescent emotions and comedy.
And with higher heated elevation,  
Climbing ethereal, supernal creation.
Mellifluous yet sepulchral tones,
Emanating from her deep bones.

Radiating miasmal decadence,
Anfractuous motions, candent opulence.
A vision to be seen by only the wisest men,
Her beauty reveals geometric truths and then,
Devours the evil in the souls hidden place,
By the light of love and truth all is grace.

To look upon the oracle in all her glory,
And glimpse her mind that holds your story.
She has the power to reveal our destinies,
All knowledge flow towards her with gentle ease.
I cannot turn away or break her gaze,
I’m lost within her eyes, a mighty maze.

She then speaks to me a message of distress,
Her colossal voice reverberating with finesse.
“You will not fall in love ever,
For you have chosen fear,
When death dances, ceasing never,
The bell comes and combs through here.”

Then I to her, speak my reply politely,
So as to not offend or seem unsightly.
“I do not fear death or his eye,
Nor my shackles wound round my feet,
There is no torture that can make me comply,
Not even Him on his high seat.”

And her to me, her face a placid consideration,
Unperturbed by my defiant complication.
“You ****** fool of a man,
How foolish can one be?
Stumbling in the dark without a plan,
Without foresight or a way to see.”

We could’ve ended there our interaction,
But up I pipe, avoiding distraction.
“And what advice would you bestow,
To help me through my trauma and help me grow?”
Feeling consternation in my quarrel,
And seeing in her eyes something more than moral.

She’s speaking louder, speaking clear,
As she swoops swiftly down gliding near,
“You know in your heart what needs to be done,
But always remember the game, which you haven’t won.
Never lose your creativity,
It is the gateway to serenity.”

What trust is ****** upon us when bearers tell no lies?
When untold secrets are revealed in the visage of our eyes.
In silence be that perfect well rounded quietude,
Still unbroken yet answer stir through our attitude.
Tell of tales of stolen unforgiving looks,
Advice like this not found within your books.

I’m now staring at the mirrored pages,
Ambient the music that plays onwards,
And I haven’t felt this way in ages,
Taste so sweet, the taste carries me forwards.
And deeper into the sublime I go,
Delving through the waves, to a sunken ship,
Seeking, searching what I already know,
Scavenging from the precipices lip.
All it shall take is for you to show me,
Which way to look, and to listen closer,
To the sound of the growing, floating bee,
A hundred things to be seen within her.
Bask in the knowledge that seeps from her skin,
She tells the tales that come from within.

Mulberry lane was well lit in the dark,
I want to walk on, I want to travel,
So I wander a fair bit to the park,
So that I can let my thoughts unravel.
And in the dead of night, my thoughts did come,
Eager for the beat of my thoughts, here in,
In the form of a tune that I can hum,
And play upon my face a ghastly grin.
The sound in my head shall never be born,
So why do I wander in the dark night?
Suppose it stops me from being forlorn,
Also the darkness restricts my eyesight.
So I can hear music that keeps me sane,
It’s all in my head, on Mulberry lane.

There is a poem living in my head,
Anfractuous and organic its movements,
Oscillating free on the tongue when said,
Trickling viscosity, then it cements.
I reach out and pluck plumes from the unknown,
Devouring the delectable verse,
Mutter, murmur, and release a new moan,
The silence that follows is my old curse.
I seek out concepts to take me forward,
Like the idea of life after death,
How such things play on the mind, as they should,
Taking in a deep and meaningful breath.
Now lay next to me and fall fast asleep,
And dream sweet dreams all night, so I don’t weep.

If lines be given by playful muses,
And not from my own poetic labours,
Leaving trails in my mind that bemuses,
Following the flow of fortunes neighbours.
Then you’ll be waiting a long time for this,
A very long time, for they trek slowly,
But when they hit the target, they don’t miss,
And reveal those patterns that are holy.
However it shall come on flying wings,
Eventually I shall have what’s mine,
And I will bring to you, all that it brings,
Speaking the beauteous art that is fine.
Perfection found on the imperfect breeze,
And then seize the opportunity, seize.

Replenish the soul in limpid waters,
Shinning radiant from the deep abyss.
Surrounded by nymphs, Zeus’s fine daughters,
A feeling of love, a feeling of bliss.
Supple bodies splash about in the pool,
Limbs elongated, the mind sedated,
Bathing in the shimmering waters cool.
Twang of heart strings, completely elated.
Drenched in the sunshine, drenched in the moonlight.
Playfully frolicking throughout all time.
And drinking down the nectar of delight,
Sampling the citrus fruits, lemon and lime.
The soul is satisfied, the soul is strong.
And justly endeavouring to belong.