Feb 2016
I've been around the world.
Yes, I've been around the world.
A vast garden of trees and lakes.
A tender yet mighty beauty unfurled.
The only thing that makes sense,
To my eyes of pruning; whence,
Did I desire a thing with petals?
A thing with all love's contents?
I do know the world,
Yes, I know the world,
But what I imagine I know not,
Something called a girl?
I'll tinker here and also there,
A little dirt, air and my hair,
What grows here in my garden.
Will soon be everywhere!
I've tried to imagine this,
A passionate, soft kiss.
Manufactured by my power,
It'll be here by the hour.
Yet what I grew from dirt,
Hair, air, and a water squirt,
Seems to be a pile of mud,
With this I can't even flirt!
Oh, can't I have a dream?
Not the milk, but the cream?
There can't be a secret more,
To my new and legendary chore!
I feel alone and spiteful,
This garden's no longer "full",
My hair falls out like petals,
Or how I imagine they would fall...
I look over my failed creation,
And I give it condemnation,
A tear travels to nose's crook,
It falls upon my aberration.
Pow! Like this. Pow! Like that.
Sparks fly and I don't eat my hat,
because what happens before me,
I simply can't not stare at!
Her delicious curves, radiant hair,
Eyes like my garden, a loving stare,
I can't believe what I have done,
Because she is not just anyone!
She is my love, this I can tell,
My heart is healed and I am swell,
Now I can say that I did find,
The flower of my garden.
Yes, I've been around the world.
A vast garden of trees and lakes.
A tender yet mighty beauty unfurled.
The only thing that makes sense,
To my eyes of pruning; whence,
Did I desire a thing with petals?
A thing with all love's contents?
I do know the world,
Yes, I know the world,
But what I imagine I know not,
Something called a girl?
I'll tinker here and also there,
A little dirt, air and my hair,
What grows here in my garden.
Will soon be everywhere!
I've tried to imagine this,
A passionate, soft kiss.
Manufactured by my power,
It'll be here by the hour.
Yet what I grew from dirt,
Hair, air, and a water squirt,
Seems to be a pile of mud,
With this I can't even flirt!
Oh, can't I have a dream?
Not the milk, but the cream?
There can't be a secret more,
To my new and legendary chore!
I feel alone and spiteful,
This garden's no longer "full",
My hair falls out like petals,
Or how I imagine they would fall...
I look over my failed creation,
And I give it condemnation,
A tear travels to nose's crook,
It falls upon my aberration.
Pow! Like this. Pow! Like that.
Sparks fly and I don't eat my hat,
because what happens before me,
I simply can't not stare at!
Her delicious curves, radiant hair,
Eyes like my garden, a loving stare,
I can't believe what I have done,
Because she is not just anyone!
She is my love, this I can tell,
My heart is healed and I am swell,
Now I can say that I did find,
The flower of my garden.
Thinking about it now, this makes me think of,
"Frankenstein's Bride," haha!
I hope to watch that soon, now that I think about it.
I remember reading Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein", when
I was fourteen.
It was beautiful... but it was terrifying.
I was laying in a "hospital" (sick bay at boarding school),
And I may have had bronchitis. I often got flu-like stuff at that school, "Yuck."
Anyway, we're all created. There is a grand design.
We sometimes get in the way of that.
The character in poem got in his own way.
He "lusted" after her, when the truth is, instead of lust, sorrow is more appropriate for finding a mate. Not depression, "sorrow".
Pining. Genuine desire.
It's not much of a lesson, but that's all I got now.
Also, we do create our mates. They appear when we've built the right circumstances and our character, but we also spend a lot of time building each other up.
What's unfortunate is when we spend time tearing each other down.
Love can turn into hate quickly and it starts with bitterness.
Anyway, take care :)
"Frankenstein's Bride," haha!
I hope to watch that soon, now that I think about it.
I remember reading Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein", when
I was fourteen.
It was beautiful... but it was terrifying.
I was laying in a "hospital" (sick bay at boarding school),
And I may have had bronchitis. I often got flu-like stuff at that school, "Yuck."
Anyway, we're all created. There is a grand design.
We sometimes get in the way of that.
The character in poem got in his own way.
He "lusted" after her, when the truth is, instead of lust, sorrow is more appropriate for finding a mate. Not depression, "sorrow".
Pining. Genuine desire.
It's not much of a lesson, but that's all I got now.
Also, we do create our mates. They appear when we've built the right circumstances and our character, but we also spend a lot of time building each other up.
What's unfortunate is when we spend time tearing each other down.
Love can turn into hate quickly and it starts with bitterness.
Anyway, take care :)
