Blue notes ready
get the fumes ready
we’re going to spread this
wild.
City streets rain down
pistol shots
whiskey shots
wake me up, I’m just a
child.
Sell me back to classical keys
the ones that leave
fire in oxygen.
Your spirit still sits
in your acoustic strings.
Baby, I could see a future of missing
your blue river running
wildly over
everything.
Don’t tempt the flames
they’re easier than Spring.
We’re going to spread this wilder
than fire.
Sounds like you are lost
right behind where you are almost are
What are you doing here?
Swiping what I have to say about that?
It is I,
making sure that no thieves take the golden honey
from the hives.
We all are natural friends to befriend
the bees, but you have lost your way.
On the way, your treasure melts
away into a way to let go.
You’re almost there, save me!
Honey for everybody!
I hope I never see another world
covered in seagulls.
The bees are enough for me.
Little golden girl
you are perfect
in your comb
waiting for the right time to
find your way to where you almost
can be.
She is fierce perfection,
parallel to the sky,
matching rock for rock.
The sky’s diamonds sparkle for her
and we stomp on her beauty,
each day, yet she is soft leather
under our ignorance.
They talk about her like I do not know
already. She is arid,
angry!
She stretches over death,
impregnating fire
with fire. She is malignant perfection
and I am her sister.
Swarming in with poisoned tips tucked
under innocence,
Nature’s vengeance dancing from
flower to flower,
no matter the color,
or the size,
or shape.
They are the thieves of each unique
fragrance,
and I wonder,
Do they watch for the tulip to open toward the warmth of the sun?
Do they wait for a rose to display her heart proudly?
Do they time each moment precisely
for attack?
The light of the sun is unconditional;
food for the flowers,
heat for the thieves,
and on those magical days,
when I am the Bells of Ireland,
exposed,
hungry for the warmth of my Sun,
they swarm in and attack!
maggiemaeijustsaythis 