I am
the beauty
that which captures
even my own canvas.

An illustrious
painting to things undeserving--
wrapping up ugliness
with the truth of nature--
these shrubberies
will hide
and protect those
from the dangers
within myself.  

Convincing
the world that
We are not dying or struggling,
but merely making art--
is this not the means of artistry.

If I do not suffer
then I will never complete
my Sistine chapel
or find the real Mona Lisa
hidden amongst these frauds.  

These fears are real,
and every day
they are realized--
where my peers, friends, family
say 'I will be fine"
so I act as if I am.

No longer eating
instead I portray the art of eating--
the sun has found out
I am defenseless against it,
but I still paint myself in the light
so my lilies can survive
off the energy draining out of me.

I want a garden
Like the one my mother planted
Cherry tomatoes, yellow squash,
She even tried a watermelon one year

I cannot remember what happened
To that garden when she was gone
It stayed where it was, I’m sure
For a time
Until a new family moved in

Part of me hopes the plants
Never stopped growing
The leaves on her tomato plant
Taking up the whole yard
Providing endless nourishment
For the new inhabitants

More of me hopes they
Ripped up the roots
Planted new grass,
Maybe put down sand
Added a swing set

My mother would have loved to know
That her garden was kept beautiful
But I was never as selfless as my mother
My heart cringes at unknown hands
Picking at the beauty she created
Keeping a part of her that I had to lose

I am not a gardener
My tomatoes will expire long before me
But I will still tend them
In the hope that she will see
I tried to make my garden
As beautiful as hers

My mother planted gardens
Green tomatoes,
Yellow, sometimes red

She tended them
And raised them
To be beautiful

She took such care with her plants
Some would think she'd have none left for her family
But she did
She was bursting with love
It flowed out of her like breath
Even when she was lonely, unloved,

She still loved

She loved with everything she had
And she raised me to be beautiful
She gave me everything she had
She gave my father all she had to give
And we drank in her love

And at times we ****** her dry
But she loved us all the same

She raised me like she raised her garden
She tended to me, she cared for me,
She made me beautiful
She was this warm light that surrounded us
And kept us safe

And when that light went out
We were blind

She tended us and cared for us
But we depended on her to grow
Our bodies, they grew, but our minds,

Our hearts were left in that room
On that Christmas Eve mourning

Our instincts made us move forward
Yet every step we took was not our own
We were new
These bodies were not ours
These hearts did not beat the same
A piece was missing

But we moved on
Because we had to

We found others in our path
And we used them to fill that hole
We tried to piece ourselves together like puzzles

But the pieces never fit quite right
Something was always missing

My mother loved gardens and she loved her family
And I loved my mother
So I tried to make a garden as beautiful as hers
But somehow my hands couldn’t tend them
Without her hand in mine
I couldn’t love them like they needed
Because her love had gone
I couldn’t grow them to be beautiful

Because my growth stopped
When the most beautiful person in my life was ripped away

I couldn’t tend those plants like they deserved
But somehow they are beautiful and they still grow
I like to think there is still a part of her in me
A part I’ve made myself forget
To dull the ache

I have to feel her now
I have to feel that choking dark
That sometimes threatens to break me
Because the only remnant of her is my garden
The one my mother planted in me
In the hopes that I will see
That I can make my garden as beautiful as hers
And my baby and I will walk through it
Hand in hand

And I’ll feel my mother smile when I realize
That the hole in my heart was always just an
Empty space waiting for a blossom

Some people worship cows and the Egyptians worshipped cats.
They should've worshipped Jehovah God but they didn't do that.
Some people have also worshipped plants when they saw them sprout.
Only God should be worshipped, without him, humanity wouldn't have come about.
Worshipping animals and plants is wrong in the eyes of God, worshipping The Lord is what we must do.
Worshipping anything other than The Almighty God is unacceptable and that is one hundred percent true.
People also practice false worship when they show their love of ***, money and drugs.
More people are getting killed as each day passes by because of crime, sin and thugs.
When people idolize anything other than God, it is terrible and wrong.
We can devote our worship only to The Lord, he can make us strong.

O lovely lady, poised for flight!
In the wondrous floral seas
Lightly lilting on the breeze
A flute of orange fulsome light!

Caesalpinia pulcherrima
Latin lover from tropic climes
With a dance, a sulry mime
I'm looking forward, I esteem ya!

With antennai you touch the air
Zephyrs of sweet paradise
You could melt the frigid ice
With the fire that ÿou share!

O, how you send your leaves aloft!
Feathers like a Sensitive Plant
Small and delicate they can't
Touch floral offering, clustered, soft

Though it be strange... you are a pea!
Yes, you own that family name
Wild though, you can't be tamed

Bird of Paradise! YOU ARE FREE!!!


SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
7/22/2016

Fountains of flowers, growing so fast.
Such a shame that none of them last.
Summer blossoms soon will wane,
They’ll be back next year again.
Bees await the autumn flowers,
Checking out the wooded bowers.
Twittering blackbirds guard their land:
Will their fights get out of hand?
Swallows swoop with arcing wings,
Ever returning for endless Springs.
It’s early July, just past midsummer,
Every green leaf is a newcomer.
Earlier dawn and longer light,
Durable daylight and shorter night.
British weather will still prevail:
Sunny spells and storms with hail.
Winter always is a ******,
I thank Goodness we have our Summer.

Paul Butters

I dream
how her morning nakedness
overshadows the depth of old plants
and how her tears of joy twinkle
at the edge of my deluge

I forget
how in a gray black past
my pillow was wet with tears
and I kissed it because I could not expect
ever to embrace someone like her

I honour
forever how I found her
the pearl  in a sea full of mines
and how she quenched my sadness
as if it had been hers for many years

I cherish
how on a late day in June
on an ancient brigde in Prague
I asked for her hand and how her eyes filled up
with the light that keeps me warm

I hope
she will stay