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MULBERRY TREES AND BUTTERFLIES 

Don’t go back to heavy sleep
dwell in the wakefulness 
of I AM THAT I AM
here mulberries and butterflies 
beckon across filtered fences
which you can comely climb
for a bountiful bestowing 
pick, a Sunday spongy
pudding to lick

Don’t go back to weepy sleep
red wings glittering glow will 
gently flutter to enfold tired 
flesh ~ a yellow black still
spotted gentleman will 
show you juiciest fattest 
berry to colour your throat 
in purple drops, composing 
berry songs dolce vita 
dope

Don’t go back to restless sleep
you’ve packed belongings
climbed a lorry of Fate 
with Pappa Dien staring 
sadly at a shoe left badly 
behind, a broken porcelain 
doll, torn T where dandelions
grew no more with roosters 
that could no longer crow 
so sore

There space was a 
barren smile glum scum 
consumed by greed gross 
littered noise, treachery 
oppression, lechery
broken hearts on potato 
couches drinking dyes
where no mulberry trees
or kaleidoscope buttterflies
released could cross radar 
screens, high or low 
fast or slow  

Don’t go back to nightmare sleep
mulberries await awareness 
for precision picking, ambling 
aisles of moss fragrant farms
bamboo roofs arch belong
quiet mantras make mulberry 
trees majestic grow 
greet muscled surfers blueing 
paradisal waters for Ashtar’s 
butterfly rewards of nectared 
proboscis piercing seeds 
slowly slay weeds 

Don’t go back to tossing sleep
you’ve witnessed rifles pointed
fainted in crowded musty
rooms deep where fisty slogans
were staple diets of no avail
sorrowful deceit, separation 

traversed grey townships
no birds sang or bang ganged
a rusty sill whilst you billing 
slumbered with dark drunken 
shanty spies, seen it all
mazes were too
indecipherable for even
Archangel Uriel’s rescueing
butterfly brigades so bright

Mulberry branches beckon
sight to sturdy roots deep
hastening you to propogate 
fragrant fruits across 
unguarded gates, open 
spaces decorated with 
white wave butterfly babes
showing a way through 
forested land for reaping 
and sowing anew

hasty catapillars crawling 
brawny bellied across fertile
hopes where princesses 
are receptive to berries 
blown into flowered laps 
ready for tasting sap 

Don’t go back to drugged sleep
a golden age desires retired 
residual mulberry membranes
enticing gratitude giving and 
receiving 

musical masculine, fertile feminine 
when two in ONE become 
skillful under simmering Sun

storm barren twigs
or laden treeful jigs
it matters not when 
wakefulness giggles in
alluring acceptance of
butterflies seductive 

scarlet savouring black 
masterful mulberry 
marvelling hack !
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