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 !