if ever there were
gods or goddesses of desert
of the drylands
of parched earth some call home
they would be surprised to learn
                     of the miracle of
                           this Spring deluge
                                unfurling forth                
                            from deep within  
                        the crusty dermis
          of this sublunar territory:
          hydrangea and ***** apple flower,
          intermingling their hues
          of mauve and lilacs,
                              as well as the color of sky
                               blooms of the succulents
                    popping open
                    in celebratory dance
                                   in wild fuschia
                                sunray butter:
a dazzling botanic trance
          hollyhocks of magenta,
           veils of bougainvellia, too
                    sweetpea clusters
             curling in the trellis
weaving heavy-scented magic
through and through
a private orchard of lemon tree, and apple
olive and pistachio grove
One would not guess
the endless giving
of this desert treasure trove

And I feel like a goddess
              of mythology softly spun
like Demeter, or Ceres
ancient Egyptian Renenutet
my hands spread out
in the licks of gentle sun
for as spring pours forth its honey
all through this barren land
I , too reawake
and flush out all the infected,
dust-scratched sand
I welcome in
the waters of abundance,
of love, of light under stars
let new energy wash out
old poisons
my radiance spilling far
Reaching out unto the Universe,
cradling this heart
         I cup the buds of blooms,
                                      of nectar
to inseminate my dark
       allowing me
to release the past
and seed within me, lit
         the atoms
of  new
               start
unfolding bit
by tender
bit

HATE BEING THE ONE THAT HAS TO BEHAVE



YOU SEE, I KNOW MY BROTHER IS ALLOWED TO SAY WHAT HE WANTS

BUT I HAVE TO WATCH WHAT I SAY, SOMETIMES I AM JUST BEING COOL

I HATE PEOPLE TELLING ME I HAVE TO BE GOOD, LIKE MY PERFECT FAMILY

IT’S HARD TO DISCIPLINED TO, JUST BECAUSE, I MUCKED WITH THE OLD FOGIES

I HATE, HOW PEOPLE TREAT ME LIKE A TOTAL AND UTTER LOSER

YOU SEE, WHY DO PEOPLE TRY AND DISCIPLINE ME, I FIND IT HARD

LIKE I CAN’T HELP IT, IF I HATED DADS DISCIPLINE RULE

I CAN’T HELP IT, IF I AM A NICE PERSON

YOU SEE, IF I GOOF UP, I AM TOLD, I HAVE NO MATES ANYMORE

ALL BECAUSE I SAID SOMETHING OUT OF LINE

I KNOW MY BROTHER HAS A WIFE AND KIDS, AND WAS COOL

AND YOU KNOW WHAT I HATE, PEOPLE ONLY LIKING ME

IF I BEHAVE, CAUSE I AM COOL, MAN, THE COOLEST DUDE IN CANBERRA

I HATE WHEN I HEAR THE VOICES BE LIKE US, WHEN I EXPRESS MYSELF OVER THE WEB

YOU SEE, WHY DO I HAVE TO BE NICE, I AM A COOL AND REGULAR GUY

I DESERVE TO BE LIKED, I DON’T WANT TO BE LIKED FOR BEING PATHETIC, NO WAY

I HAD VOICES FROM THE PARANORMAL, YA SEE I AM A NICE COOL PERSON

WHY CAN’T I ENJOY THINGS, JUST BECAUSE I ******* PEOPLE

I FEEL IF I SEE THESE PEOPLE, THEY WILL SAY TO ME, I WAS WRONG

BUT I HATE BEING DISCIPLINED, PLEASE DON’T DISCIPLINE ME

I AM 45, AND I AIN’T COMMITTING ANY CRIMES, I AM STILL SEEING THESE DUDES

I USED TO GET DRUNK WITH, SOME WERE GOOD BLOKES

IT’S JUST THAT BACK THEN, I WASN’T PREPARED FOR OUR OUTINGS

I LIKE FOOTBALL, AND I LIKE GOING OUT HAVING FUN

AND I DON’T WANT TO BE TOLD TO BEHAVE MYSELF I HATED BEING TREATED LIKE A NICE AND POLITE MAN

WHILE MY MATES CAN BE LEFT ALONE, PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE

I HATE THAT MAN KEN, I HAVE TO BEHAVE FOR HIM

I CAN’T STAND BEHAVING FOR ANYONE, BEHAVING IS DUNB AND BEHAVING IS WRONG

I HATE CATHOLIC MORALS, AND I HATE DISCIPLINE, BUT I FEEL ONLY OLD FOGIES HAVE DISCIPLINE MORALS

I TRY AND BE GOOD, WHEN I GO OUT TO EVENTS, BUTB SOMETIMES IT’S HARD TO EXCEPT DISCIPLINE

CAUSE WHY CAN’T I JUST BE ALLOWED TO MAKE A BIT OF NOISE

I AM ON MEDICATION, YA SEE IT’S MY DESTINATION, I WANT TO BE HAPPY, SO I TAKE MEDICATION

I THOUGHT DAD WAS STARTING TO SEE MY WAY OF LIFE, YOU SEE, I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A GOOD BOY

BEING A GOOD BOY DOESN’T WORK FOR ME

I WANT TO BE NORMAL, I WANT TO BE LIKED

I SING A SONG, I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE A BEER WITH BAZ BOY, CAUSE HE TRIED TO JUST THINK I LIKED DISCIPLINE

I HATE BEING TOLD TO SHUT UP, IF YOU WANT ME TO SHUT UP, I WILL NEVER SHUT UP, CAUSE, I FOLLOW MY OWN STYLE

WHICH IS FUN, I BELIEVE IN HAVING FUN WHEREVER I GO OUT INTO THIS WORLD

I CAN’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU CAN’T REALISE, I HATE DISCIPLINE, I DON’T WANT TO BE TREATED LIKE I AM TOO WOOSEY FOR LIFE

I HATE BEING TOLD I HAVE TO BEHAVE, WHY DON’T YOU BEHAVE, YOU TELL ME TO BEHAVE, YOUR A TOTAL LOSER, BUDDY OLE BOY OLE CHUM OLE PAL

I AM GOING TO THE BOTANIC GARDENS TONIGHT, BUT I DON’T WANT TO HANG WITH DISCIPLINE LOVING NERDS

I DON’T DO BEHAVING, OK I WILL NEVER DO BEHAVING, I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE AN OLD FOGIE

I AM A COOL MIDDLE AGER, WHO LOVES TO PARTY

STOP DISCIPLINING ME, YA ****

OR I WILL NEVER TALK TO YOU AGAIN

tears well when i think of your hand arms under the pillow head above eyelids closed and flickering with dreams i hold the tense muscle of your forearm the skeletal hand with botanic veins green skin purpley grey i miss your gentle kiss tongue sliding underneath my top lip back and forth across my teeth until my jaw and eyeballs are loose. i wish your lips on my shoulder. i wish you well. well i wish i could’ve kept you under my spell. am i the only one who drank the potion? only fools rush in so is a fool who rushed in made clever if he runs back the way he came? ….or just an *******? excuse my french but you turn me into a *****. i’d fix you whole without the use of even a wrench but none of my tools could fix your desire for loneliness. and that’s not even a wound, not even anything broken for you, only me, one who needs you to feel complete. I’m such a romantic. why am i, seventeen and lovely, fresh, talented, fairly intelligent, and all around endearing so..so frantic? you said yourself you aren't worth it, all this, this ******* trouble. why is that so hard for me to believe? i sound ******* silly. this isn’t even poetic.

HI DUDES


I AM TELLING YOU, THAT, I HAVE JUST UPLOADED A PARTY SHOW, SHOWING

MY NIGHT AT THE BOTANIC GARDENS, I AM CALLED PINKY THRONE, TO REMEMBER

MY LAST HUMAN LIFE BEFORE THIS ONE GREAME THORNE, THE SHOW IS ON

AAA YOUTUBE TV, AND I PARTY WITH MY STUFF, AND WITH OTHER GREAT PARTY

SONGS, I LIKE TO PARTY TOO, YOU SEE I WANT TO MAKE THIS A REGULAR THING FOR ME

CAUSE I DON’T COPYRIGHT, I JUST HAVE FUN, PLEASE WATCH, I KNOW YOU DON’T KNOW ME

BUT YOU CAN GET TO KNOW ME

AAA YOUTUBE TV, TWO CAKES AS THE PROFILE, OK DUDES

Thank you for the large sushi platters
cheap, but would fill our bellies to their brims.
Thank you for the red lights,
that would grant us a moment to make out in public.
Thank you for the skyline,
that you gave to me in the rain and the sweet summer sunshine.
Thank you for the grains of sand on that one beach,
the cold water only made me hold you tighter.
Thank you for the road trip to Ohio,
you know I missed her too much to breathe.
Thank you for giving me spontaneity,
it is amazing how capable I am to achieve this trait.
Thank you for the long drives,
where I would cry and your voice would match the pitch of sweet Marley,
you would remind me that I was loved, that I was worth getting up in the morning for.
Thank you for the swim in the lake at the Botanic Gardens,
you let me come up for air first.
Thank you for the random calls,
your pungent voice reduced the swelling of home sickness.
Thank you for the large sushi platters,
cheap, but they filled our mouths with stale rice and rotting fish.

You graceful dutiful
Little creature of fur
Sweetest sight of Nature
Head of dreams plentiful

Your hazelnut
You will find not
For your brown tail
Blurs the pine trail

Your golden gate
In the soil, echoes
Dictates your fate
Mine is San Francisco’s.

In your gleaming glade
Hummingbirds in the shade
With feathers turquoise
They’re butterflies, likewise

Queer folks, but fine folklore
Of your secret forest
They race their rest
Less wings, for more freedom

An animal kingdom
Long and forgotten lore.
Squirrel,in your safe crest
You should sleep, so lest

Are you trembling
Because I will
In this night’s chill
Protect your ring

Your paws on my shoulders
Dream gently, drift softly
Off, for we will mildly
Conquer new wild wonders

April 17, 2015
University of, California, Riverside
Botanic Gardens

“If you can love the erroneous person endlessly,
Imagine how much euphoria you would,
Have with the right person,
Absinthe as a row of daffodils that spread flaming,

I love you as dark murky things are loved,
If you can cultivate a plant that will endow,
Your heart with a thousand flowers,
It is absinthe in the air that is expressed,

That is intoxicating from such a love.
The sea knows the love the stones,
of the rock as the waves flow above,
Kisses flowered daffodils in the cracks,

Then day came that our lips finally met,
Our tongues braided infinite purity in their crevices,
Kindling our nerves with desiring pleasures,
What can this be I say to myself the essence of?

As absinthe anise flavored from botanic gardens,
As so derives your skin within mine the contour
Of your beauty has quenched my desires,
With infinite purity and Exhaustive ecstasy”
By A.G. 3/2018

on the first day of the month
we flipped all calendars in sight
and one on the sitting room wall
brought but a moment’s flicker
as the floral display exchanged
my dad’s now absent voice replayed
his botanic wit and joy displayed
what then was a random comment
during our regular video calls
but now no longer to be so
in another couple of months
shall mark the first year of his passing
a pinch it was of a fond memory
a punch in the gut of new reality

I took you to my place today
a botanic garden
silent calm cold
breeze swaying
trees
I took you to my place today
close your eyes
turn around
look around
green
everywhere
I took you to my place today
breathe
breathe
smile
sneeze
smile
sweep me off my feet
I took you to my place today
"thank you" "of course"
this has been on repeat
in my mind ever since
I took you to my place today
I'll take you there everyday.

.i never could find atheism satisfying, atheism being nothing more than anthropocentrism; it's nothing more. well, hell, back to the old model dispute: geocentric vs. heliocentric models... why wouldn't atheism be a thesaurus entry on the synonym level, and not be akin to anthropocentrism? pulling out balloons out of my *** like a clown... it later becomes something less inclined to a "dispute" about a "god" or "the gods"... man is still over-powered in instances where his superiority is critically diminished... the biological version of the botanic construct of mistletoe: which is the equivalent  of cancer... i always felt inclined to suspect the pop atheists... or the fact that insects, akin to ants, bees, termites, have a language dedicated to telepathy, just because they're small, doesn't imply that they're not "big"... there are rumours, that humanity wants to achieve a form of telepathy, rumours, nothing to get worried about... would i pray? no... i'd much prefer to study... but i am left dissatisfied with atheism: simply because it's pride in the anthropocentric argumentation... there's a fine line between anthropocentrism, atheism, and egoism... the "rational" cue would probably be associated with something akin to: the horrors of suspect... that beneath all the rituals of faith, there's a thinking contigency of suspicion... i rarely found someone who simply did-away with that fleeting sense of suspicion... and if i am suspect: this whole "thing" is suspect... the shackles of trust... what, akin to the laws of gravity? the creeping ontological predictability of general human affairs, akin to mating and dating? oh they're there... sure, and the sun will rise tomorrow, and this night will pass, these are no more laws of physics, as laws of trust... beneath which... gambling upon the predicament of the unfathomable, which is equal, to gambling upon the predicament on the already fathomable... i didn't exactly convert to judaism: i can't... if they circumcised me, i'd bleed to death... the best i can do is play the role of a ****** with a predicament, the nag hammadi library was unearthed... in egypt... and i became crushed by the gospel of st. thomas... that part where jesus takes thomas aside, and tells him something, thomas goes back to the rest of the disciples and they ask what was said, and he replies: if i told you... you'd stone me... right... so christianity boiled down to playing a game of ******* chinese whispers: he said, she said?! i guess that reaction was inevitable... given i already became a catholic apostate having read some gnostic works, and never became confirmed... well, it's like i was given a choice over my baptism, but with regards to confirmation? yeah, i took that **** seriously, even if i wanted i couldn't get a church wedding... i haven't been confirmed.

faux pas, "god"...
                   and all that non-existing
prayer "gone to waste"...
well...
    not really...
           blurry lines...
the sensible atheistic argument...
not when the argument is arrived at
from... a disposition of fear...
    rather than claiming some insightful
bias...
            suicide? tried that once...
hanging from a tree...
             the tree ended up being
chopped down...
but... strangely replanted
itself in my neighbour's garden...
now i watch it grow,
arch and cast a decent amount
of shadow...
                      if i'll have a dream,
i'll write it down,
   but i guess, most of the time,
            i'm plagued with "dreams"
of the grand void...
                an abyss that eats me,
where no images pass,
   no narratives...
                  no yesterday akin
to that story of paul mcCartney...
   no, just the sleep,
        and the grand void...
       apparently i groan and moan
in my sleep,
       i couldn't tell you...
              but i can tell you that
the "dreams" become so violent that
i am thrown out of bed
and end up waking up on the floor...
is it associated with the alcohol
consumption?
            perhaps... probably...
will i stop?
                     stop what?
                          it's this weird
assurance from a deity...
                        concerning suicide -
an unconscious fear
                                        of non-being...
tell that to someone who is
easily susceptible to a dream like water
infiltration process...
          "dreams" or rather: a lack of...
a momentary lapse into the figurehead
of ego in charon's empty head...
            groaning and being thrown
out of the bed, landing on the floor...
         i was right about
        the high blood pressure
genetic inheritance...
    how quickly that balloon head feeling
of an explosion disappeared
                      one mid-afternoon
               when i came off the pepsi...
talk about the aspect of the body
replying with an in-built barometer
                      faculty...
    old people always complain
about the atmospheric pressure
         doing a sadistic circus on their well-being
with regards to bones,
    and other body parts...
high pressure...
atmospheric high pressure and
they feel like ****...
   now take this and invert it onto
a canvas of high blood pressure...
      for once,
          beyond the headache sensation
of a brain - rarely felt -
   as if: the brain trying to find
an exit, and merge itself with
    a mind - that component of translating
brain, and the posit of a body
as a soul...
                headache: knock-knock...
body: who's there?
      headache: brian, he's going mental!
i guess the 1st tier of understanding
is gastronomical...
the 2nd tier being philosophical...
the 3rd tier having something to do
with all the current psychological constraints
and predictors...
         but the sort of "ache"
associated with high blood pressure...
brain turns all swiss cheese sponge
b'ah-b'ah...
                  the jaw dumbs,
   the tongue cannot be placed comfortably
in any position in the closed mouth...
and the teeth start to itch...
   not even chewing gum helps;
as ever...
             does it matter what i've written,
or does it matter, how i've written it?

You were a bright yellow flower
That bloomed in early July
I was the shy little bumble bee
That was always passing by
I would like to keep my distance
Cause other bees liked you too
Any yet you barely knew me
And I barely knew you
But somehow I felt like I've seen you before
In this botanic garden of dreams
Filled with flowers of blue, violet, orange
And crystallized glistening streams
But yet you were one of few yellow flowers
So you easily stood out
You colors always remained vibrant
Even during Our droughts
So I kept on admiring your colors
But I still stayed far away
In our vibrant crowded garden
Until you noticed me one day
And I started to fall in love with you
But soon came the end of July
And all of us smart bumble bees know
That's when Sunflowers die

“If you have loved with apocryphal one endlessly,
Imagine how that would have been co-equally,  
With the right amity shares of love equitably,
As ambrosial as a queue of amaryllis narcissus,

Love that spreads through the air with poetic wings
If one were to propagate flower that will be endowed,
Intoxicating from such a love as the brine ocean waves,
As the ocean waves splash against rocks of daffodils,
      
Then comes the day your heart pounds with euphoria,
Finally your lips would embrace tongues pleach infinitely,
Can this be as inward to lull the essence of daffodils?
As I now feel like a dove as I fly away and be rested,  

As intensified euphoria flavored from botanic gardens,  
As so derives your skin within mine the contour,
Of your beauty has quenched my infinite ad valorem,
Contained now with patulous purity and sensitive felicity”
By Andrew Guzaldo ©  12/07/2019  #175

Beautiful garden in the night
Warm shadows of trees in moonlight
Like
Singapore’s tropical botanic oasis
Seems like paradise on earth
Come close before I close my eyes.
Let’s meet in
lovers garden of green
at midnight hour.


Shell✨🐚

Master herbalist,
clear the pit
Use what was,
given to humans,
right through,
existence,
not myth
Knowledge grew,
Shamanism,
and, other practical
experimentation,
shone through
Herbalists captured,
and, catalogued
their knowledge,
of medicinal plants to
The Royal
Botanic Gardens,
at Kew,
named plant species,
for medicinal use,
by you

© 2020  Carol Natasha Diviney