As I see it, the world of formulaic practices would have me
Write a thousand lines on pages made of the most luxurious
Antique papyrus with a quill from the virginal bosom of a phoenix
In an ancient hand, maybe sanscrit or something so sacred
It is undecipherable to mere mortals.
Penning you poems and prose that were to chasten your spirit
Against any other suitor, gird you against the war of roses
And song and delicacies from a thousand tribes of lyricists
Whose only intent is to win the favours of the forever immortalized,
Forever inspired, caged bird who art fairer than the very angels
Mirrored in her gaze.
This would be the desires of most who wish the enlightenment of your
Presence and granduer. But away with that.
For such contrivances quickly whither and lose luster.
As for me, give me the bird that sings to be free,
Sings only to me. Only that my ear hear the sweet melodious rapture
Springing forth from velvet lips with full throated whispers
That ride cosmic vibrations, mingling with ethereal effervescence.
Give me the sonnet, slaved and toiled over, written and rewritten
Til every last syllable, nay every last letter, is the reflection of a life’s
Desirious cascade of devote offering, delicately placed as
Perfectly as natures perfect imperfections.
As simple as a grain of sand, as still as the fleck of pollen
Grasping tightly at eyelashes, reflecting the brilliant radiance
From the moons of a thousand galaxies through the vortex of eyes
So bold and wonderous, they themselves had to be inspiration for the God’s.
Not too much to ask for. Better than games better than tricks.
Any man can do this.
But only SHE does it right.
Jah Courtney 2012
Write a thousand lines on pages made of the most luxurious
Antique papyrus with a quill from the virginal bosom of a phoenix
In an ancient hand, maybe sanscrit or something so sacred
It is undecipherable to mere mortals.
Penning you poems and prose that were to chasten your spirit
Against any other suitor, gird you against the war of roses
And song and delicacies from a thousand tribes of lyricists
Whose only intent is to win the favours of the forever immortalized,
Forever inspired, caged bird who art fairer than the very angels
Mirrored in her gaze.
This would be the desires of most who wish the enlightenment of your
Presence and granduer. But away with that.
For such contrivances quickly whither and lose luster.
As for me, give me the bird that sings to be free,
Sings only to me. Only that my ear hear the sweet melodious rapture
Springing forth from velvet lips with full throated whispers
That ride cosmic vibrations, mingling with ethereal effervescence.
Give me the sonnet, slaved and toiled over, written and rewritten
Til every last syllable, nay every last letter, is the reflection of a life’s
Desirious cascade of devote offering, delicately placed as
Perfectly as natures perfect imperfections.
As simple as a grain of sand, as still as the fleck of pollen
Grasping tightly at eyelashes, reflecting the brilliant radiance
From the moons of a thousand galaxies through the vortex of eyes
So bold and wonderous, they themselves had to be inspiration for the God’s.
Not too much to ask for. Better than games better than tricks.
Any man can do this.
But only SHE does it right.
Jah Courtney 2012
