The expectations of the heart bound the passions in a silent breath, holding within the roots of flowered lungs – the grandiose applause beating against ribcages. It reverberates with aching and longing to be heard. A silent breath holds the hand of a lover yearning to be seen, to be reciprocated. The expectations of the heart wilt without the waters of recognition and the abundance of love, unabated and unrestrained. Flowered lungs sprout daisies – effeuiller la marguerite, a silent breath holds the hand of a lover. The anticipation of the heart swirls the passions into dance like the wild winds carrying petals through their drift – and she loves me.
How come each morning when we greet the day
The gunk in our eyes makes us say, “what the hey!”
What good is this stuff
Enough is enough
Sometimes nature is a pain in the souffle
verses nights of love
are now and only souffle
OF perfumes and smells
How come each morning when we greet the day
The gunk in our eyes makes us say, “what the hey!”
What good is this stuff
Enough is enough
Sometimes nature is a pain in the souffle
How come each morning when we greet the day
The gunk in our eyes makes us say, “what the hey!”
What good is this stuff
Enough is enough
Sometimes nature is a pain in the souffle
Ce réveil
est lent
Ces instants qui se suivent sans décompte
Comme un levé de soleil distant
Il s'approche
Baigné dans une rose chaude
cette fleur ne pique pas
Non pas cette fois
"Ne la haïs pas".
Chaque inhalation mécanique
Une main qui guide le regarde effleuré
Les paupières s'ouvrent
Dans une noir paisible, dans le pénombre
Le regarde et les mains invisibles
ne sont plus les miens
Avec le souffle
Je me lève
--TRANSLATION--
This awakening
is slow
These uncountable instants filing one after the other
Like a distant sunrise
It approaches
bathed in a warm rose color
This flower does not prick
not this time
"don't hate her"
The mechanical inhale
a hand guiding the brushed gaze
Eyelids open
in the peaceful blackness, in the darkness
The gaze and the invisible hands
are no longer mine own
With a breath
I arise
Closing in on my eighty-second birthday
Still cookin' with gas, keeping the nasties at bay
Still feed myself
Body's still svelte
Can't stop the girlies from caressing my soufflé
How come each morning when we greet the day
The gunk in our eyes makes us say, “what the hey!”
What good is this stuff
Enough is enough
Sometimes nature is a pain in the soufflé
.
Baked sweet potatoes fluffed high
Warm sweet scented base
Eggs, sugar, milk, butter, spices
Coconut, raisins
Chopped pecans topped with
Marshmallows__
Yum!