the flowers

they sit in this air, chilly;
the wind
it blows, yet, just as the flowers move

I feel it upon my hair

upon my face,
upon my blue feet;

The trees they ask
Do you like how I move?

I ask the same

and I hear no answer -

I never have, yet, I ask
again; again -

There is a wind
and I feel it the same as
the trees; the flowers -
I feel this wind and I will feel it again;

when I will feel it again

& when it doesn't make sense,
& the wind blows in your direction,
I'll surrender to your will,
For in your benevolence I rest my faith,
Abundant expectancy.

Every dawn is a nexus, /
Every twilight is a beckoning; therefore, /
Embrace the fickle future /
Ensconscing within the sacral oath /
Of a thousand words: /
These utterances shall envelop you /
When upon Triumphal Arcadian Skies /
We meet again. /

Save your tears, /
For love shall reign /
From the empyreal aethers above /
To the Gaian epidermis of /
The Magnanimous Matriarch; moreover, the mellifluous kisses /
Of The Sovereign of Songbirds /
Will burgeon within, /
Will descend upon you as The Holy Dove. /

Unfurl your third eye, /
See with an indefatigable clarity /
All that you were meant to be: /
Strong, Wise, Just; /
Love; /
A luminary fulminating /
Radiantly, resplendently upon /
The Denizens of the Terrene. /

(—Se' lah)

Actual lesson notes on life
left for your evaluation
if you read on,
is your time, in attentive state, reading state,
narrow beam
focus, military grade - worth spending here?

Attention to the details that fit the picture,
it seems my kind
learns in caves, by nature,
we crawl into deep dark places
and live freely until we die and leave
but traces of the we entranced here now.

Come and see, as the word of god,
bade me begin or be ******.

The advisor chuckled, an actual gulp-chortle
while saying in his most complexmental way,
I love your use of the word
******.

I went away convinced, this was the way
to now,
you reading into the book of life the part
that proves your worth is not
found in your tolerating Proust,
but denying my worth is measured
on you sense of the worth, given proper
pro-nuncial prowess at play, say
with the arrogance of elliot… in the Magicians
on TV, not the waste land, good
lord, who would besmirch the genius
at the top of curios arts charts

tip\top pop the bubble, boiling brew of elders
grown knowing all along
trees have souls,
in shady groves
where others did evil,
vain repletion's, expletive

- ecall newsome, trump the ***** queen
deleted.

Sometimes i fear
that my poems don't make sense
but then again
neither do my thoughts
and then i realize
we are all just trying
to make sense of it all

i scroll through the contacts on my phone
and realise there is no one i can call
nobody i can text
people ive had for 7 years
maybe more
their care for me has gone void
and i can sense it
can't you see?
it's all superficial  
every conversation
every look
it is all superficial
and i can blame anyone and anything for it
but none of that will change the truth and none of it
will gift me a new outcome

so now i sit alone
in a void room and i wonder
who will notice
who will care
when i am all but gone

for they will notice when i take my last breath
but nobody notices the moments before
not from afar