Hanakotoba – The Japanese Language Of Flowers

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Hanakotoba – Himawari

‘How often do you catch yourself just staring off into the distance thinking of her?’

Standing alone in fields of fantasy, lost in thought,
As so many days have come to being,
Slowly transcending the stairwell of life,
Dangerous games needing to be seen,
Awakening bathed in sinful and lustful sweat,
My mind caught up in imagery of colourful debauchery,
Black orchids, richest reddest roses,
Shimmering birds of paradise drenched in sensuality,

Twas it the wine of the night before, that so induced,
My mind to drift hopelessly into the lair of the Vrischika,
Did l eat too late in the day, encouraging her to seduce,
Me during my dreams of passionate slumber,
To be caught up in an illusion of such drug bound sexuality,
Like some adolescent with a growing infatuation,
Unable to curb the desires of ripened flesh reality,
And succumbing to fantasy filled starvation,

What keeps me in these fields of fantastical pleasure?
Where wild flowers grow beneath my feet nightly,
And silvered trees drop their crimson ribboned treasures,
Upon and inside my head so quietly and silently,
My mind woven into the delicate intricacies of a sultry rhythm,
Caught up in the spellbound foolishness of man,
Transfixed on the ideals of an aged romanticism,
Like the two shores of truth only secretly can,

What is it, with this magnetism that l am so wanton,
To mentally act so promiscuously diverse,
So provocatively teasing and taunting,
To venture without care nor responsibility into the perverse,
Of the volatile sensations rippling through my coursing veins,
Dreaming of the souls merging and becoming spiritually one,
Falling helplessly into the intoxications,
Of the energised chemistry of that thing called ‘love’ again?

© Rory Matier 2012

No great discovery was ever made without a bold guess
Isaac Newton

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