"I'm gone. I'm no more - uprooted by the Housing Committee!
They chopped me to the ground coz I didn't grow 'straight' innit...
....the very day after barge came to visit and I sang him my farewell song",
sez a valiant cluster of buds, defiant and cheerful until the sudden, swift end.
Stalks of grass and fallen leaves leave one wondering where the flowers have all gone .... gone .... gone to graveyards every one? Oh they will learn, but not because they 'will' it! All this was a long time ago btw!
Shimmering pines stake a claim for flowerhood in monochrome conical fashion - not particularly funny eye-thur. Why knot make it up as you go along? Does a Flower have to be a Rose to smell as sweet? Them young girls must be pretty fed up by now - did they even get to pick all the flowers...or was it just the brightly-coloured ones?
"That's what you think O'Wallowing-in-self-pity hyoomz", buzzes Bee around a leafy-street corner in some jungle somewhere, sometime....
...pointing out in no uncertain terms how there ARE flowers in the leafy undergrowth and getting rather annoyed at this simplicity of perspective from those who 'would' rule the world yet continue to dump in their own backyards. "The 'unreal' never is and the 'real' never ceases to bee", Dismissable and Admissable!
Yes yes yes, you bee right Mr B the flowers ain't all gone, dat's just a sayin' in old-world-speek. It's a habit of conditioning whereby one exchanges a walk-on part in a war for a lead role in a cage (....goes the song of Pink who 'don't need no bullshit or thought control' either). In spite of the spate of sobbing misery, the strident outpourings of 'me me me' dressed up in fine 'thou-shalt'-speech as the 'applause' lights blink on and off in obedient self-mockery; in spite of the 'new'-oldAge bullshit peddled by sluggish street preachers with no access to mirrors of self-reflection; in spite of all the noise, there are white flowers of Wisdom and Peace indicating with an arrow the flowing silent seamlessness of Life, always accessible and within reach.
........yes, in spite of all projection-driven drama in the Hyoomanosphere there is still the Gorse of course! It has a shadowy diamond-shaped center at heart, and it is on FaAaYaAa. "But hey, why bring up Gorse again man, that's sum holeee un-tribal shit you referin' to bro!"
Go fly a kite barge, take your thoughts elsewhere - move along. It's OK, that old refrain is echoing weakly in your ears, nothing more. The 'diamond merchants' have their own and other like-minds of 'tribe' to fool with glitter and gold. You don't bee-long dig? Buzz off now, sky's your limit but only if you wanna stay as low as that!
