From the ***** of God, multitudes of visions cascade
In to the peripheries of consciousness
Epiphanies herded in to magnificent parade
Fulsome in all their lusciousness
Which God it is is not always clear
But the form of her Beauty is sharp and sure
The enchantment grows as she dances ever near
Consists in her blessing perfect care, cure
Bursting out of the hinterlands of repressed psyche
She, spirited, splendid, dances
Sweeter than peaches or lychee
In enamouring trances
     O form of forms, your beauty sharp
     I honour you on lofty harp

"Oh! That's so random."* said the girl in pink.
Her beautiful eyes an enamouring ice blue.
She spoke with a vivacious smile as perky as a wink.
"Oh? That's so random?" questioned the boy too.

So as he stared into her eyes,
A strong attraction like cloud to skies,
He knew they weren't telling lies,
And to his strange surprise.

It was random, beating in tandem,
His heart rate fluctuated,
He finally said "my heart for you is random"
With a coltish smile she said *"i guess we must be fated"

My world is more than the illusion of my self
The possibilities are manifold
Although it left me in vain and fickle health
I can transcend and walk the path of gold
Those who see it, the grand illusion
Judge me superficially
Enamouring themselves of the same delusion
Taking me cosmetically
Not getting the real soul self beneath
They capture and devour me like foxes
I flutter like a falling leaf
Fitting me in to their labels, boxes
Not caring for my heart's vocation
Nor its passions, or creations

A magic ray of heaven
Awoke me yet shroud me in daze
Enamouring me of celestial vision
It's dazzling displays
A sublime hippie beamed to me
Rapped upon my back
Gently, ever gentle, he has the knack
Sang woe for me alack
But he beamed bright fortified in flight
By my quest he said
Saw my truths as rare forsooth
Feeding thousands with meagre bread
His words had come from shiva
But through his Angels spoke
Chasing herds of words
With beauty rare, bespoke
He ferried me to archangels
Sublime statures of the sky
Chasing light that follows
Where those bonny angels fly
Devotion, poesy hand in hand
In realm of imagination, dream
On gods enchanted sand
Beatific, supreme
In enchanted sing for bright burnished wings
For John the Angel true
Blessed fires run through you
Through my heart a warm breeze blew
Guardian of my destiny now
He hisses at those who attack my flame
We art two beings of love and light
Who art the same

I just feel very strongly
Overwhelmed by emotions
I think you judged me wrongly
Enamoured of prejudicial notions
I am just unstable
I don't know how to cope
That's why I angrily babble
And make plans to leave, elope
Don't tell me I am things I'm not
You don't know me very well
For all I care our bond can be left to rot
Because you've not known me long enough to tell
You jumped to brazen conclusions
Presumptuous and rude
I guess you've never known devotion
So of course you wouldn't perceive that my spirit had brewed
You just want to indulge your ego
So its rich of you to call me vain
You think you're above it when you punch down low
And enjoy begetting pain
So make with haste to leave my sight
It's enamouring no more
Out you go, and now I know
To lock and bolt the door

Would Cherub point their gilded dart
At slumbering, majestic heart
Shot through unexpecting back
Heart would tremble for passionate attack
That the babes of Heaven start

Would Angels wield their towering harps
As they loom and lounge and lark
Gliding gracefully in packs
For divinest music they have the knack
Enchanting, enamouring, beauty stark

Would Seraph singing sweetly
Come visitly me discreetly
Aura drenched in colour
I'd praise her all the hour
Arranging altar neatly

Well-crafted suits,
chic, colour-coordinated costumes,
toned bodies, heady perfumes,
affected accent,
modish gadgets,
glib, politically correct talks,
juggled alphabets displayed after names
to show off eruditeness -
a bizarre veneer of sophistication we flaunt!

We wisely disguise our hideous true selves -
our barbarous primitiveness -
under our glistening outwards.
Its greed, its pride, its selfishness,
we shrewdly camouflage with enamouring smiles,
we, a generation of impersonators!