Flowing Nectar of Poetry Flowing,
Flowering flights of fancy nectar,
Fornicating,
Pollinating,
And undulating,
Yes,
Uplifting and transforming,
By tiny,
Luscious licks upon flowering flower-lips.
For hence between thine stars I stir that honey-sweet nectar divine.
O,
Right in the night of ritual,
Whereupon pentagrams of aether elements,
Comprised of drops made of star-spark sorcery,
From far-away dark womb-ways,
Beyond count of my times,
Sparks of radiance spring Upon my fired smoke-drift,
Titillations of my evocations Ovulating without constraining,
She pours forth all of my creations.
So song pours sweet quivers,
Singing songs to unlock garden desires,
Where serpents writhe in ecstatic revelation,
Unto the tree's endless apple-cycles,
That blossomed from her celestial flowers.
Whence boneless and spineless,
Yet very-ribbed men,
Do doth run from her garden,
Cast out by their own fear.
So I stand here,
Carrying her enchanting nectar,
Dragon-winged and serpent-spined,
That I,
Of course,
Oh,
So deeply desire.
Ah,
Yes,
Just that one eternal momentary lick Of revelation and rapture,
Where tongue doth speak spell-encantations Upon her cosmic fires.
So sing I spell-songs to her,
Calling whilst I dance upon moss-laden dreams,
Yearning for mortal coils to unravel and ravishing,
To bring me back home,
Covered in her flowing,
Flowering flight Of fancy nectars,
Mm,
So divine.