MULBERRY TREES AND BUTTERFLIES
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 !
Copyright © Ghairo Daniels | Year Posted 2025
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