Best Burton Poems
"COMMUNION"
You speak to me in tongues
I hear you with my heart
I feel you with my mind
Like a Spring bloom, I am slowly unfurling
Like a ripe plum, you taste me in my rhymes
You touch me black ink injected drug potent
Red Poppies between lines
I sense you in your dreams
They are swelling next to mine
Like a drunk, I swallow all your delicious words
You turn into endless Golden Chalices of Altar Wine
I see you through your mirrors
COMMUNION
You see me, walking now through mine.
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018)
EASTER
John 19 NIV
communion
noun
1.
the sharing or exchanging of intimate thoughts and feelings, especially on a mental or spiritual level.
"in this churchyard communion with the dead was almost palpable"
2.
the service of Christian worship at which bread and wine are consecrated and shared.
synonyms: Eucharist, Holy Communion, Lord's Supper, Mass
"he believed in Christ's presence among the faithful at Communion"
3. The Spirit, The Blood and The Water
(Best read with this poem's theme music playing)
"BLACK SWAN THEORY"
Free Agent
Black Swan Theory
White Pearl rolling in
Some kind of Black Pearl World
Black Swan Theory
Decoded, Fragile Love Songs Broken in
Some Kind of Black Pearl World
Red Shoes Dance Home with the Witch-Way Girl
Decoded, Fragile Love Songs Broken in
Free Agents' Escape Dossier, you’re handed free tokens
Red Shoes Dance Home with the Witch-Way Girl
Vapid Vanilla Kisses, Black Marzipan my Villain's Secret Kisses Unfurl
Free Agents' Escape Dossier, you’re handed free tokens
Love’s Bullets melting Hot Ice Heart
Vapid Vanilla Kisses, Black Marzipan my Villain's Secret Kisses Unfurl
Diamond Hieroglyphics My Windows on Your World
(Lovejoy-Burton/April 2018)
"rara avis in terris nigroque simillima cygno"
"Subway"/Peter Murphy
https://youtu.be/iiUOUNubUW4
https://genius.com/Peter-murphy-subway-epilogue-lyrics
"Thy Beautiful Heart : The Blue Faery’s Baby"
'Tis brave the heart
of a lionhearted cub
When Butterflies
aren’t pretty
Aren’t all what they seem
Monsters that do steal teeth
from the Blue Faery's Baby
A glass jar full of
plundered
precious Pearls
of White Ivory,
not sweet honey bees
The cub
must remember
the power asleep
in thy magic, the
strength of pure
LOVE
Stand firm clasping it to
thy beautiful heart,
thy beautiful heart -
that was borne
from pure love
all of thy
beautiful dreams
to believe
to dream
red life rosy and real
“Walk with courage”,
she heard her say,
"Soft footsteps always follow,
They’ve never walked away,"
"In thy dreams
I guard thee still,
from wolves
and monks
all monsters -
men and women
gone astray"
In that strange
contained place
that place of the Fey,
both are walking
side by side
together
in pure Light,
a strong power,
in conversation
they hold,
deep of the mind,
the two from the Fey
"All will come good
on the morrow
For the
Blue Faery’s Baby,
there is to be
no more bleeding
Black Sorrow
Love, hear me now,
Time is tumbling
Love - pure and strong,
with all of thy
beautiful heart
Time,
tis no more time,
to be borrowed.
Love's kiss
from a mother's
pure heart
breaks forever and now
the Papillon Spell".
(Lovejoy-Burton, August 2018)
for my daughter,
Georgia -
Close your eyes
when you listen to the music...
it adds more power to the spell.
I am always with you. Always.
ALL my Love - Always.
The Blue Faery.
"Conjunto", Symphony for 8 Cellos
PeterRudolfi, Youtube
https://youtu.be/cKEq56mDLg4
I am with you all the way.
Love, Mum.
“Next Chapter”
There will always be a next chapter
Written or not, this is of no matter
What matters is the colour forming in your world
Black is not a colour, it dominates, shades and swallows other colours up,
It exists to be blended with White, a vacant aberration one can easily fill in and colour over
What one is looking for is the colour in the spectrum, not yet found
To be newly created with all available emotions to hand and heart and mind
There will always be a next chapter
Written or not, this is of no matter
What matters is the colour forming in your world
Beginning
End? there never is an end
What matters is the colour forming in your world
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 March)
"Frosted"
A penny for your thoughts?
Scratch that thought.
Thoughts are worth more than pennies
Thoughts are legions of brilliant glistening diamonds
shining dormant undiscovered in a deep deep dark cave
veins in the walls of The Catacombs blood art fuses lit
burn and sizzle bright like gunpowder travelling from the Throne of Amygdala
to the Kingdom of the Pounding Scarlet Brave
beats in time with intent and purpose
when the music ceases -
TRUTH
seen very clear
as through untainted glass
binoculars not necessary here, my dear
Windows of your soul unfrosted
Will see lost love at last
Pennies on your eyelids
mirrors covered with vintage grey
army surplus blankets
trapped in the ashes
dust to dust
open the curtains, move outwards every pain
let the Light and fresh air in
You're alive again.
Ain't that strange?
(Lovejoy-Burton/Feb 2018)
"A Silent Song"
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
Blessed or cursed
Morning shave
Coffee please
Write a verse
Remembers last night’s dream
Grabs a napkin, spills his spleen
Shoves it in his pocket
Walks to work
Sits at his desk
Carries on as usual
Chats on with the new study,
he’s on a roll, softly flirts
Quietly, silently, it always works
Groundhog Day that’s the worst,
Where’s the breaker to dive under it all
Every now and then a Tempest is called for
A heavenly thunderous squall
Just to shake it up
Move through the strung out long day pall
Cover his mirror with her fog and all
All the while
He’s talking it up, little work day dramas
Meetings minute cutlass pen thrust
Business as usual, balls to bust
Still underneath it all he’s thinking the stories frame by frame
She whispers out of nowhere ethereal in his brain,
“The best story is yet to arrive, it’s only the middle of the day…
maybe some gold glitter, a Llama and a Toucan that sashays?”
Empath on his knees by midnight
He’s writing melancholic love songs
The words are tight, verses short
Not long, he’s thinking Turtle Doves and short skirts
That won’t work…
scrawls it out, writing’s gone with the wind,
The best words for the story don’t take too long
He listens to some music, thinks of her and sings a new song.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
Dreams flourish dripping words
black on white her familiar screen
pounding faster like raging horses hooves and heart beats
bleed vibrant colors mystic legions of wars and lovers
a foreign sovereignty her mind and wily covers her pageantry
Her eyes the windows of her world
Wings beating flying free
Cages broken, horses hooves hearts racing
She follows him on another shore a dream by sea
Praying prophecies
Empath on her knees
Two very different minds
Free to be
(Lovejoy-Burton/Feb 2018)
Music/ Paolo Conte, "Sparring Partner"
https://youtu.be/tzjdY5rmpCA
"Brave New World"
In a Clear Blue World
spirits strike matches
inner flames capture
dancing magnetised
towards intimate
Shining Light
melting like
liquid diamonds
Ultra Muses
fusing bright
magic lyrics
healed compositions
mirrors merge tight
no division
hearts forever blooming
unfurling like sweet
Anais Nin’s Roses
they’re salty divination kiss
sheer delight, rapture union
hear their kindest war cry
Revelation's arriving -
LOVE REVOLUTION,
it’s a
Brave New World.
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 Jan)
1.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJSik6ejkr0
2.
Psalm 13 For the director of music
Matthew 14:22-33
Colossians 3:14
3. Anais Nin Roses
VIDEO: LovejoyB: BALLOON
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fduyWFQ-JXg
"DAMASCUS"
There is no collaboration in War
Poison winds and bullets
The fallout from a silent bomb that arrives out of nowhere
Lives left dead and damaged in the rubble
Line's drawn
Zip code
Zip locked
A Child's Tears
A Mother's Face
A blood running river silent scream
An absent State of Grace
A pointed loaded gun
Homeless nowhere to run
The enemy could be close
those you know
havoc reeking destruction
A pointed loaded gun
Another's War
Damascus
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 Feb)
1.
https://www.dailystar.co.uk/news/latest-news/605359/syria-nuclear-world-war-3-bible-prophecy-damascus-armageddon-donald-trump-vladimir-putin
2.
https://www.hrw.org/news/2018/01/11/syria-children-under-attack-damascus-enclave
3.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2018/02/20/children-among-dead-71-killed-assad-regime-bombardment-eastern/
4.
https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Isaiah+17
5.
https://www.youtube.com./watch?v=fduyWFQ-JXg
"Dreams of Tomorrow"
Walks on water with me
He breathes out
I breathe in
wrapped limbs
sink beneath ice surface
rise twin volcano
walked through mirror
touched his skin
Dreams of Tomorrow.
Born again
Begin
(Lovejoy-Burton/Jan 2018)
"One day you will kiss a man you can't breathe without and find that breath is of little consequence."
"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream."
or
"We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another."
Lord, teach me to achieve.
Teach me to love what I do.
Teach me to do what I love.
Teach me to truly achieve,
but by your standards,
not the worlds',
so that I might achieve
that which is worthwhile
and lasting,
not fleeting
nor empty.
And,
when I am finally called
to give an accounting
of what I have achieved,
may what I have achieved
speak well of me,
so that I might achieve
that which is truly lasting-
eternal life.
AMEN.
This is dedicated to the following people who have
treated me with kindness and respect:
Carol Brown( The true den mother of this site.); Brian Strand ( I like your thinking and your
contests!); Michael Jordan: ( Be well and safe, sir.);Reuben Ortellao:( Holy Imagination,
Batman!);
Brandlee Augustus;Laura McKenzie; Deborah Guzzi: ( The Wise woman of the mystical arts.);
Catie Lindsay;Sharon Weimer; Donna Golden;Karen O'Leary ( Kind and thoughtful.);Trudy
Diane Ryder:(That name is poetry.);Carrie Richards ( Enthusiastic is your middle
name.);James Peranteau: ( Thank you.);Sara Kendrick;Sean Kelly ( A fellow Irishman!); Hai
Au Chu;
Derrick Burton ( Thank you, too.); Frances King;Krista Kurth;Frank Herrerra; Carolyn
Devonshire:( ever the polite lady.)
Thank you. This one is for YOU!
Act One: the stage and scenery are set
I was told the play, I'd not soon forget
But if truth were to be told
More like the game, whack-a-mole
I needed a hammer, not a lorgnette
Thespians were vying for the limelight
Popping up everywhere, ready to fight
Sarcastic words ill spoken
The golden rule was broken
A princess rudely slandered by a knight
Act Two: the actors wrote their own stage play
A long soliloquy to have their say
The audience booed and hissed
"Put that one on the blacklist!
Kick that charlatan out," they did convey.
Someone had to quickly close the curtain
'fore the crowd decided they'd be hurtin'
the actor they were jeering
with sidelong looks of leering
meaning, "Fit for a role by Tim Burton!"
Act Three: Then Queenie tried to take control
Each part played, she admitted that she stole
Just another know it all
Boring with each scribbled scrawl
Showing up everywhere like whack-a-mole
Bad actors can't write plays worth a ripe fig
But criticize others to make a dig.
Negative comments given
Are they jealousy driven?
Wantin' to make the rules like a bigwig
The play, though not very well attended
is being recast with those commended
who are never rude and crude
and have a kind attitude
Instead of those whose words have offended
The next play is about a new dog breed
I heard it's called a boghound with a need
to chew on a bone until
its nibbling has caused ill will
and seats are all empty; audience freed.
"My Daughter My Nation"
The climate of Georgia
is diverse,
considering the nation’s
small size.
She walks with her head
held high,
ultra dignified
My daughter,
whom I love “Most".
I am her Black Sea,
her West Coast.
Familiar, yet -
uncharted territory
a foreign country drowned,
a mysterious
unconquered frontier.
Always close,
my tides touch her shore,
then recede.
She dips her toes,
considers which boat
to launch off in,
which adventure to seize.
Waves of a Mother -
calm then stormy seas,
low tides, high tides,
cool deep waters,
then LOVE's blistering
burning breeze.
In water’s introspection
A natural evolution
from station to station,
perfect reflection, an observation -
“TAKE LIFE!”, Ocean calls
to her Nation,
without hesitation.
Courage of Child-no-longer.
Independent, clever
Woman now, she’s “BECOMING” -
Stronger and stronger.
Familiar, yet -
Uncharted territory
a foreign country
a mysterious,
unconquered frontier,
that's My Daughter,
My Nation.
Georgia.
No maps required,
straight to the HEART -
Simple, pure magic vibration,
this my celebration,
My Daughter
Queen of your own
Evolving, Stronghold Nation,
GEORGIA.
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 Jan)
1.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6wc41N-GYY
2.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QSJfOLLE0Fk
"The Circe Effect" (Part 1)
Circe, Goddess of magic, nymph, witch, bold enchantress
daughter of Helios, Sun God, her father, can you imagine? ...
let me paint you further, the tree of this wacked-out family canvas -
daughter of Perse, her mother, wild Oceanid Nymph, spawned not on landmass,
but in the vast deep blue deep.
Aeetes, her brother hung tight to his Fleece
and Pasiphaë, her sister, given in marriage to King Minos of Crete,
had a fling with a monstrous White Bull,
a gift from Poseidon, ain't that so sweet?
she bore a bastard child, the Monataur with a ring in his nose,
horns and hoofed feet.
Now there was a family of total dysfunction
and Circe, poor dear, betrayed for remaining herself,
remaining non-function
was banished to Aeaea for murdering her husband
the Prince of Colchis.
There on Aeaea, as revenge, Circe drew out her magic wand - not a sword,
transmuted her enemies, all those who offended her into wild beasts,
where they were left to circle her mansion and roam to eat swill as their feast.
Docile not dangerous, drugged and delerious,
these beasts never gored -
they were fawned on by all newcomers, who were simply just curious,
never bored.
These entranced beasts lured newcomers to our girl Circe
with a woof and purr.
Enter Circe, quite disturbed, in a logical kind of way.
“More pets for me!”, she thought, “they will never stray”.
These lonely, adventurous vagabonds who ventured into her lair,
well, she showered them with all her incantations, but they never heard
her words of Love ever there –
Circe would finally reveal who she truly was,
for you see by now all that pain, all that hurt
had converted our dear old Circe into a siren
otherworldly, deadly lethal, mysterious, re-birthed;
all that ventured into her Kingdom now were
captivated by her spells and
then promptly, with a wave of her wand,
transfigured forevermore
as creatures,
of her Elysian Fields interred.
(Lovejoy-Burton/ Dec 2017)
"What a Lark"
I used to be inspired once
like a lark beating it’s wings
higher and ever higher into a
golden and blue eggshell sky.
Hailstones hit me
during ascension
and I’ve fallen
into steep decline,
lying on a pavement somewhere
where bystanders walk by
ignorant and blind
to this broken
once shiny-winged lark
who sings no more
only breathing out shallow stories
bleeding into the right-hand margins
of a page, in a final chapter with no lines,
it's not lore.
Written on the body
deep under the skin
where no one else can see me
save a person pluck each feather out
and make them as their quill,
you could try to find a story there
if you dare -
then go ahead
and dip your chosen quill
in the heart inkwell
of this Lark,
and continue writing for her
with her magic blood from heart
to your heart,
but not in spite;
The Lark’s story
bleeds into that spartan white page
with no lines
except those damn margins
are keeping everything in
so tight and refined;
the rules are the margins
that require erasing
by and by.
There is a white page
begging to be coloured
with beautiful visages and rhymes
with more than what is read
you may find a story there my friend -
it’s of smoke and mirrors, grit and city
flights of love and
mores the pity
betrayal and disloyalty
and lies the hailstones hit
but they’re melting to invisibility
when the Sun shines out it’s ****
and she's remembering now
all that is hidden beauty in her dreams
as her eyes close softly lit.
The Lark lies on the pavement
breathing her stories out
into the Etheric Plane
bit by bit,
but no one holds the key yet,
to her Very Sacred Script.
A big black cat strolls ever closer by
arching his back he sees The Lark
and wonders why she don’t cry,
spill her guts;
He is drawing ever closer now,
so close he can feel her breath
and he reaches out a paw
"silently amuse me", he purrs, "just a little tweet",
A muse silently and slowly awakes
to touch his claw with her beak
and she tries
to taste the sweets.
Lovejoy-Burton, December 2017.
“Home is a Burning Flame”
Align yourself with the belief that HOME will come to you in the end
You can see yourself in her eyes, but you are not there
She must follow her own flame
Barefoot over broken glass and rusty nails
Tender Moorings is your Heart
One day she will understand her revolving door journey
Until that time arise
Keep the burning fire alive
The warmth it emanates
She will carry to be brave.
"HOME"
Is a Burning Flame.
(Lovejoy-Burton/March 2018)
For my Mother 18/9 d. I see you, I hear you.
For my Daughter 18/9 b. Do you see me, do you hear me?
"I am my mother's daughter."