I am Miss Bloom
I will tell you something very secret
Something you’ve never heard before,
It was a feeling an uneasy feeling
Something that’s has not happened before,
What can be said, which will never be spoken
That wishes from tomorrow will in past
Will eventually crumble in the disruptive maelstrom and rotten
That is what they are telling us now which was last in past
A numbing Miss Bloom falls heavy in the slip room
No legs are broke; it’s a causal bit of luck
An option of which can only be thought of in a state of doom
Not in which contrasting motives are cold as fucked luck
Yonder you make me wonder why it’s so that Miss Bloom
Can be so sure about her state in affairs
That we cannot wait whether it is her groom
Who patiently is waiting on the bottom of the stair?
Only in parts will the face become the new me,
as an elf in the forrest i can see the truth come to reality
what i aspire to is the true essence of aspic reality
as of how one can become in the sence and fassion of gello.
What are the purpose of being elastic when one can not shake it.
to be like gello is the first and formal dream of most solid and stiff beings
what can be expected in the shape of gello is so spessial, can't be described
what can be expected in the shape of gello is so spessial, can't be described the force it might gain.
I will say this, as once my dream is to gell with the o, i can see you in the mir of your innner or..
as snowwhite carries the lie of prestinity, I the Mirror reflects the shades of the truth,
Baphemot and Levitus, Leviathan and Johnathan will become the sage of pressent time.
waiit for the dawn which will throw upp the most wreckage of ages, and burry it under your yondering burrial.
I like how my blue aura fuses and fusions with the suns radiant warm yellow
I like how my tune fork creates spark that lists your skirts
I like how our images look so different, yet seem to fit
I like how my anger fits within your calm
I like how my eyes will stare far into the antique
I was a nymph back then, spur from the lake
I was a silent king who’s command was so immense
I was a spirit of such only idealistic times could make me sense,
I took blue energy to my heart and made it my power
I took life’s energy into my hands and gave it to mother earth
I took the blue lightning of my tune fork and give life energy
I saw the potential in man and filled it with spirit and sensuous gild
Walking Through the Flower Garden
I walk through a garden.
A garden full of flowers
of various exotic names
Which makes me fantasies and my spirit wander
I see the rhododendron with its power
Of green so prevalent through the season,
I see the rose with its colors so various
And its spikes so threatening
The lilac of such of it vulgar smell
Which lusts only for luxurious convulsion of passion
The Mock-orange which smells so great, its the hints of summer
its freedom of philadelphius charm, is for the heroes of festivity
Orchids and Papaver gives the gardens the essence of longevity and fantasy
Daisy’s and heartsease has the essence and familiarity and tradition
Dandelion and Lily of the valley walks the endless walk of hate and love, edibility and poisonous penance, of despair and marriage and which in the end will make us question ours elf.
In the end we can only stand under the sun flower and wonder about how to survive and be stretching our prosperity to the heavens or like the coltsfoot, with our foot to the ground and in awe of the fertile spectrum of existence, of humble attitude towards our mortality yet our seasonal stubbornness is seen on both the Sun flower and the coltsfoot.