[matilda] some words

[worldwarfree at riseup.net]

it took a while
to bring us gathering home
to our mother earth
not in conflict
nether in exploitation
a liberation from zion
the urban paranoia
of immediate living when
we walk into the verdant
of your omnipresent environment
comes our release
a uproar of green
before the winter vacation
the colours of
orange red brown will
be the reflection
onto our beloved morehall
here one stands watching
the seasons transformation
love as an insurrection
into the strange days of winter
days that become their form
watching as trees become nude
casts off  they’re verdant
leaves of  green
now attractive colours of
orange red brown
are falling down onto the ground
a form of emancipation
for one to kick in enjoyment
full time unemployment
has given we this pleasure
to stand
against exploitation
looking up at the trees
there structure
this nature is still life
full of life
though deceased
because we are told
this to be
how we feel thy liberty
the emancipation
from humanity in winter days
the moments shared
further the pleasure
of our mother earth
our communication
is often whispered
not to be noticed in summer days
here one can shout
be at one with your insurrection
there are no strangers
for the shadows are
fast asleep
they only haunt
if there given proclamation
here at one
the verdant colour of green
is still looming
love has become an insurrection
as the magic mushrooms
wilder garlic grows
the pixies dance
into the dusk
the musk of fires
looms as people watch
the orange flames roar
a light revelation
of this dark winters night
the warmth of your being
the presence of friends
there conversation
of our mother our earth
as i look into those
cimmerian reddish-brown eyes
in the gentle radiance of the
orange blaze jesting at me
now as the mushrooms
begin their passage inside inspection
of our thoughts
i hold onto you
you being the insurrection of love
the mushrooms
in circulation of our inner being
takes this passage further
once upon a time
when all was un-hale
tail following lie following tail
friends was fair weather
now they hold each other
the laughing smiling faces
are not like they was
full of pretence a patronising
of ignorance to the prol-riot
now all happy smiling people
there goes a joke
in there conversation
did you catch it
as they drift of into the fire
one can still feel the presence
darling loved one
they  treasure the love
these days of insurrection
the flowers for armageddon
one was growing are now for
love the insurrection
they speak because
a drinking container of green tea
is being offered
they drifted back as
tunes are played
radiohead then crass are
given for their ears
people begin the tales of there folk
of there insurrection
the folk songs are tales
of struggle times of yesterday
how they laugh at mo jo dixson
nevertheless, what a truth they learn
about love and insurrection
a joint is passed
a robust tolk is taken
now they wonder into each other
their conversation is
just talking about small dialogue
they walk inside to the bedroom
smoking another bong
they  in take a robust tolk
then kiss
undressing each other
there naked self’s
fall into each additional self
as they fuck each other
into the passage of there thoughts
the mushrooms now
hold centre stage
of the conversation
in their heads
alive due to the cannabis green tea
here they pose as a statue
called love as an insurrection
lay upon the bed of white
still as the night
to the rise of the sunshine
on a cold winters
sunday morning
the lovers fall asleep
only to be woken to the smell
of good cooking
they dress while kissing
then in conversation whispered
is a collective morning
mother earth
the room is fill of people
the light is from the dusk
of sunday
a delayed afternoon
a fire of is the main pleasant
invasion of this room
they eat get drunk into her night
their love is like the sweet
smell of things the sky blue of
a summers and winters days an
unresolved sunshine conversation
landscapes of nude
trees in january days
blue sky’s of a august
generation who seem lost
love should be the
poetry of everyone
their blood boils up when
they see nature in full flow
disturbance on the grow moreover these days,
they laugh through eyes
that have known the buds
of tears they believe
the world
that urban paranoia is beautiful
when with each other
that composition,
like bread like
love-making
is for everyone
they desire to cry shout about
there love their insurrection
that veins don’t end in them
however, the unanimous blood
of those who struggle
for life a love
as pure as this little things like,
landscapes and bread the
beauty of everyone of morehall should
be the poetry of everyone
love should be an  insurrection
for these times the beauty of love
should be the literature of everyone.

0742..
http://pretentiousartist.com