cristobal Benjumea (190865 / jersey)
love is her
love is sleeping in minds of amathyst, drinking coffee out of oyster shells, in the forest i saw you, you were a steamy double decker bus
more whisky, would that improve the alchemy of the word, the archway
ever since the begginning of the wheel
a plant has to be grown with love
im no different
suddenly i turned into a white marble statue in the garden, no my life has not finished
your reasons for life
your awareness your joy your sadness
the bridges must be kept clear
even space junk, for in this voyage all you need is love of the pink starr
and to be willing to be seduced by your appetites for nymphs
to satisfy weather it be just a lace beggining
now its pure progression of your form
in the direction of the crystal lake
you were that racy
i kept the rythim and you the song rose unheeded except for my desires
freedom to share you
waking up at midday
the wind converses with the lake, where adorable we gloat over the swan swims
to the milky way,
to be happy,
wander round the orchard,
cupid speaks of, fantstic gardens of fruit, red cyan the magenta of my eyes, prfumes like incense, magenta vine trees thatallmost cover the sky, the ocasional exotic birds follows its course, south
love is not hate, its love, walking through the green field through the manglar trees, i desired the sun but love took me line went through the archway love took me by the han to a sacred place of red flowers
yes im yours
this is our harvest
we are the reflection of gods love
a poem of dancers through a room of junk, through an arch
to freedom to attain happynes
and fluck the tree
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