It was a sizzling summer of electric blues and vibrant hues
in  a garden full of flowers inked in plushy spanking reds
a wall of buttress wood splashed with vines of green
a purple morning glory with a touch of dewy sheen
over by a mossy pond a mandarin duck of orangey blue

The sun turns amber like a big fat shimmering coin of gold
in a sky that often blushes fuchsia,  pink, by a cloud's enfold
emerald blades of grass behind a white striped skunk  
a gradient shade of orange, from a Siberian chipmunk
here by the royal blue bench, a vibrant peacock fans bold

It is a season of rainbow colored rain and red electric trains
in a terrace full of trellises of white, roses bright as Spain  
blooming with vigor inside my bright oasis
happily connected to a Revlon kiss,  
of  cherry berry merry, on a girl named Mary Lou Fontaine

Throughout the history of human kind spirituality
has been the vehicle that leads us to a new modality
As breath is linked to life, it is the transient carnality
of the spirit, the one forever flow of wholesome chi
To breathe is to live, to live is to exist with extensity
born to take our first breath with lung flexibility,  
we learn to appreciate our duration and existentiality
as we be breathed and speeded, into infancy  
We live and have our moments in expectancy  
honoring each other with loyalty and compliancy  
The breath is the life and the life our determinacy
to exist, in a world of utter lunacy and discrepancy .

She walked the labyrinth with her head bowed down
and thought of Christ with His thorny encrusted crown
Each rock was interlinked, attached to a circular maze
and as the sun poured, onto the rocky terrain of Falaise
a silent prayer was uttered, as she set Sanctity ablaze

She came from the cloistered Abbey  on Rue de Calix  
having spent so many years kissing her little crucifix
it was a new world here outside, in the soil of France
hundreds of stones polished with natural enhance
its was a time of encapsulated self, in stillborn dance

she awoke  after the war, through Normandy's unrest  
A mother's diary was tucked inside a wooden chest
filled with flourish scribble from an ancient faded nib
It was meant to help a young woman survive and imbibe
she acquired strength, this little girl named Marie Lepine

Inside a velvet pouch was an old stone from the beach
long before the bombardment, a child was out of reach
Polished with the tears of a mother who cried of fright  
for a daughter who was to be left orphaned in the night
She kissed the stone that healed, through love and light.

Have you ever given thought on how language  impacts you,  
good or bad it all depends on the words you ruminate & chew
be careful what you choose to expel when your mouth spews
for it can either bless someone or wound,  bet you never knew
  
that one can learn to ponder words and usher without blurt
do not speak on angry terms for all it does is bring more hurt  
when the sun go down, tuck away hostility and don't be curt  
make sure you  care enough not to pill, rampage, or blurt

words can be a sanctuary to go to when no one seems to care
they can be a respite from that cruel world, your Lancelot dare
don't let the light of the stars cease to shine because of a flare
be slow to roll that pearly tongue, even slower to make it blare

not everyone thinks like you, wrong and right is only a concept
so don't bully your opinions on others and make them feel inept
please don't yank words out, it would be best if they overslept
good bedside  manners are essential, it cannot be windswept.  

July 10, 2021

Let me see if I still remember how
to light an emotion with just one touch
Caress the linen dreams of my hot summer day
with just the sound of your sweet laughter ..
I shall attempt to recreate "desire"  
by watching your strong muscular legs glide
deeper, into the mouthwatering jungle of my ***
Let me lick a moment off your long hour of leisure
and slowly enjoy this Sunday feast;
Perhaps loose my drawstring as you enter my rush  
push push then withdraw, push push then withdraw
I will accumulate your kisses, as you drink me in  
Oh, ...    I remember  .

Wolf is a symbol of guardianship, ritual, loyalty and spirit. Having the ability to make quick emotional attachments, it trusts their own instincts. We too should do the same, trust our hearts & minds, and have control over our lives.
When St. Francis encountered the wolf of Gubbio in 1220, he did not fear its coated fury armor and when the creature devoured animals and humans and became a force to be reckoned with, St. Francis  made the sign of the cross and went out to meet the wolf , one on one.  The crowd followed him from behind but as St. Francis entered the wolf's lair they held back,  keeping a safe distance, they could watch and not be harmed. The wolf at first rushed at Francis with open jaws. Again Francis made the sign of the cross and commanded the wolf to cease his attacks in the name of God. The wolf trotted docilely and lay at his feet. Placing his head on Francis's hands he listened to Francis:
"Brother wolf, you have killed men at the image of God, so now  you are worthy of death but if you make peace with us, we will forgive your past offences and you shall live.  The wolf bowed its head and submitted to Francis, completely at his mercy.  The wolf placed one of his forepaws in Francis' outstretched hand and the oath was made once ferocious wolf now behaved like a household pet.  Like the wolf, we too have our net worth, as compassioned  beings, capable of change.  So tell me, after reading this, where do you stand on the empathy scale ?  Are you going to help the wolf change, or are you going to watch him fail.
The End.
(when we all stand around and watch, we all lose)

In the land of fairy tales lives a tiny Pixie with golden orbs, etched in detail  
with two pointed ears and pointy hat she is untouchable like the Holy Grail
In the fairy Kingdom lives the Silvan Elf contented with all his Tolkien lore
and every tale brings laughter and flighting, in the Forest of "open doors"  
In this land of fairy tales, a gaggle of mages use elements without trail ;

Little dwarves no bigger then my thumb ducking beneath tall blades of grass
reconciliation spells by magic lanterns lit, from gold to yellow, copper, brass
Their territory and dominion is the land between the trees, while the muses
scribe, on illusionary parchment as translucent as a moon beam, they douse
the fires of reality. In the land of fairy tales only magic lives with cheeky sass

In the mind of children and the very old alike, lives a splendorous green haven
where all fears and loneliness is spoofed away, and all hunger quickly shaven
With mushrooms as tall as I, and crunch bit Cashews as big as a drop of dew,  
no one slumbers without a full tummy and a yamusical song of sweet renew
Magical moon whispers and pranksters with a lisper, they even got a raven

Flying solo in the sky, in this fantabulous land of imagination Victor, is hero.