Out of most the problems
That I have ever faced
Turn it back to myself
Is where it can be traced

I'm the only one
Who holds the shaky hand
Of every crazy thing
That I have ever planed

Out of every action
Inside every deed
All of it can be traced
Simply back to me

Although this twisted world
At times may play a part
It all still resides
Within this sinful heart

With its list of problems
It finds on a daily base
Once again, me, myself, and I
Is where it can be traced

A smile so bright,
Joy in every curve,
Verse blossomed on face.

She sells flowers in little bunches,
Sweet fragrances that please,
Delicate sepals of life,
That softly speak.

Bouquets of living colours,
Petals of inspiration,
Roses, chrysanthemums,
Daisies, carnations.
Accent blossoms, gerberas,
Lilies smiling in myriad hues,
Sunflowers a darling yellow,
Vibrant orchids in splendour blue.

With her touch, beauty breathes,
Glorious blossoms thrive,
Delicately arranged,
Floral expressions come alive.

For new love that slowly blooms,
For confessions yet to be said,
The finest of her finest,
She ribbons roses dark rich red.

Fond good health thoughts,
Through florals expressed,
She’ll wrap with gentle care,
With love’s tenderness impress.

She’ll weave wreathes and garlands,
Blends of wistful white, blues, pinks,
For memories left behind,
Now distant imprints.

In sweet scents, she colours days, months, years,
Walks alone each night when she is done,
Back home, no florid fragrance fills her senses,
To colour her world there is no one.

I yearn for soul liberation,
To break free from all temptation,
To cast off every bind,
And leave the world behind
All earthly limitation.

The soul, by nature, needs but naught,
For freedom is its inherent thought.
But my flaws have held me back,
My vision blurred, off track.

What truly do I need?
Nothing, indeed.
Yet greed consumes my inner fire,
My own desire.

Devoid of true enlightenment,
I chase a fading light.
My vision veiled, my eyes concealed,
By fear, my heart revealed.

Lies will sting, anger will blaze,
Karma's wheel will turn its gaze.
I await the reckoning true,
My soul's awakening anew.

Who will absolve my deepest sins?
My thoughts, my inner demons' din.
They've led me down a murky trail,
Where nothing does prevail.

My flesh decays, my mind erodes,
My memory's path eludes.
I speak in riddles, devoid of sense,
My soul, a labyrinth without defense.

Who will decipher these mysteries?
The hidden truths that set me free?
The answer lies within,
My true self, my origin.

Oh, to be a soul liberated,
From all worldly attachment alienated.
To live my life with authenticity,
In true detachment, with serenity.

In dream, abundant
As roses to a girl
Whirl, pool, whirlpool
Wool, wisps, tickle
Taunt. In dreams, awake
Wide-eyed and red
Haunting choir, your joy
Multiplied, magnified,
Colourised. Shimmering,
Hung up to dry, to drip
In beads, as grief
On ground. In dreams,
Alive. Rattling, rumbling,
Merciless as a train
Touchable, unstoppable
A body of metal, of human
Full, of child, man, woman
Well, I – I I stand
Like a beehive at work
I – I – I curl my toes, my fingers
My bones. Contort. I am
Gyre, turning, turning,
Gyre, astray. You sigh
And it spreads like a scream
Hot, smokey, the steam-engine
Churns. Limbs move, move and
And the sky moves with them
The sun blinks between
Your windows, the ground
Mumbles, disturbed, grumbles.
And I, well. I – I do not
Give to the flight of soul
I do not limit myself to
Sweet. I am full on sweet.
On infatuation and yearn.
There is no music, no disection
Of beast. The violins move
Without their kin, and with them
Moves the world. I am
No pilgrim, O pilgrim love.
In dream, instilled, a storm at work
Red. Blue. Green. Red.
Blue. Green. You move
the birds. You do not
move me.