Butterfly

Multi-colored agent of pollination
Please don't pass me by in this flowery nation
I'm not so inviting
My nectar is not too delicious
But do find it worthy to perch
On my broken petals I write lovely words
Hoping they catch your eyes
When you part your beautiful wings and hover
Over me my lover dwell
While your gentle warmth stir me to joy
Reminiscent of when I was a little boy

"Chasing Butterflies and Dreams"
http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2067/2261686594_3fc0c87fe2.jpg
Stars collides.
Histories began.
All life itself.
And, dreams.
Mirrors to
our soul.
Real.
Unquenched desires
with our
fervent
hearts on
fire.
Fleeting, like
radiant
butterflies,
ummistaken beauty,
flourescent elegance,
for all to
see.
Hard to trap
or steal.

On magical wings,
flittering,
fluttering,
on winds of
change
soaring ever
higher
toward the sun.
Lifegiver.
Dreammaker.

Once, I found
one trapped.
20,000 feet.
Motionless, frozen
in millenial
glacier ice.
Unbroken rythyms.
Oxygen deprived
casualty
with majesty
intact.
Splendour still evident
though lifeless.

A
Delicate insect
with
cotton wings,
that once
flew
so high
spoke to
me as jet stream
winds whistled by,
unable to silence
the message
of the dreamseeker.

I returned from
butterfly mountain
with my dreams
still alive,
burning inside.

An unquenched
yearning
I still search
for comfort.
My small tribute
to
colliding
stars.

Breaking form

Fragile spirit

Growing pains

Dripping stains

Bright splashes

Tattooed pretty

Blow your wind

Fierce

Wild

Raging tempest tossed about

Tumbling down

Spirals

Crash land

Involving heart

Creates flutters

Waves

All for the soul

Bitterness staves

To be all for all

Oft forget

Sometimes a butterfly

Must find time

Roost

Sit

Aching heart bleeds

For all she wants true

Flutter about

Spread kindness

Love

Shout

Returned often not

Clearly she sees

Giving is giving

Wise hearts

No return

Check

Fee

She writes with a pen

Velvet and warm

Like nectar

Fine wine

Bee's flock to her swarm

When all is taken

Empty coffer bare

Heart left broken

In quiet

Sits in her space

Waiting for a fill

Quench her thirst

Taste

Take her back

Her giving place

You've taken last toll

Be a kind friend

To a butterfly's soul

Butter Flys..

It does not!
I promise you!
there's no fucking way butter flys...
It sits there adding to your girth
wrapping itself around you mercilessly
choking your arteries with the fetid animal fat
Even as it gives up it's watery form and becomes
creamy it's doing nothing! Not flying, not even
running. It thickens and sets and just waits to
have a chance to add the greasy fat to your ass.
Alright, I'll admit it's a thing of beauty, it's
pale and shimmering form, it's taste upon the tongue
so sweet. It dresses a saltine cracker just ..so!
and OH! how lovely it is in the frying pan beneath
the eggs. But Nay!! butter does not fly.