The language of my backyard poplar tree cannot be translated into English.
At least not by me.
I understand a French poet tried it long ago. Tho’ I don’t know if he was translating Poplar. It could have been Oak or Elm.
“Lovely” was the word he left us with. Maybe that is the best we can do. Something always gets lost in translation.
Just went crazy
And flew off the shelf
With this version of my better self
Guess the reason says psychology
Is a case of bad identity
Still I’m trying
And I just don’t see
How this thing is just a fantasy
So hold, hold , hold onto me now
Don’t sacrifice my sacred cow
Just wait, wait, wait, please wait and see
My next new self is one to please
I’m working hard
And paid my dues
I’ve spent my time
To see it through
But you just pay me steel bars
And say my efforts went to far
But hold, hold , hold onto me now
Don’t sacrifice my sacred cow
Just wait, wait, wait, please wait and see
My next new self is sure to please
Cause I Just went crazy
And flew off the shelf
With this version of my better self
Guess the reason says psychology
Is a case of bad identity
Still I’m trying
And I just don’t see
How this thing is just a fantasy
Just a fantasy
Just a fantasy
Just a… fan ta see
I can’t give you an answer, I can only give you an encounter (experience). And in that encounter you will not come to know me, but yourself.
The lines to the food drop
Wind long through the woods
The hulks of the armor
Now rust where they stood
A clump on a black street
The middle of day
Smoke in the background
A house is ablaze
The child she is holding
Is withered and
grey
They say it just happened
It Happened today
Make her a movie
Or a sad novelette
Show her as fake news
On the Daily Gazette
Drape her in diamonds
And lift up her heels
Make her a hero
Just don’t make her real
Put her on Broadway
Her name bathed in lights
Make it her debut
A record first night
turn off the darkness
And hear our appeal
Make her a big star
Just don’t make her real
At least she’s a story
That’s one step away
She may be a fiction
Just written today
It may be a mercy
A mercy to me
To see her on tv
Not dead in the street
So Make her a movie
Or a sad novelette
Show her as fake news
On the Daily Gazette
Drape her in diamonds
And lift up her heels
Make her a hero
Just don’t make her real
If something is rooted in fear, it doesn’t matter if is true or false; it will spread like an all consuming fire. Fear is like a fission atom bomb, it creates great destructive energy through division of the smallest parts. So too, one person who is fearful can rapidly spread the fear to others , regardless of which side that person is on.
theascendingspiral 