Monday, November 19, 2007

Pretty Flowers

(as performed and recorded by Poinsettia)

I am a flower
exterior of beauty but roots of deceit
I will devour
the good set around me, replaced with the ugly
My roots are reaching further down
Spoiling the land where no ones around
The beauty of my petals
Very soon will fade
and fade and fade
to reveal my shade
of darkness

If perfection were to be achieved
Amidst this world of disease
The fingers of fraility would point my way
but unkown words my tongue would say

I am a flower
exterior of beauty with roots of deceit
I will devour
the good set around me, replaced with the ugly
My roots are reaching further down
Spoiling the land where no ones around
The beauty of my petals
Very soon will fade
And fade and fade
To reveal my shade
Of darkness

But breaking through the clouds, a burning light appears
Scorching past my thorns, to my roots of deepest fears
My petals all fall down, to the ground
Through the earth where they will never be found
Something new and glorious indeed
A brand new birth without a seed
I've never known this
I've never seen this
I've never felt this feeling of clean
New water flows
Like blood it glows
To renew my roots and make me free

Thursday, November 15, 2007

In my garden...

I

If life is a garden
Then friendships are trees
Oak and Spruce, Maple and Pine
Friends of many shapes and different kinds

The rings of our tree grow many
And through many winters it has survived
Water is carried to leaves by complex lines
Telephone bills and post office lines
There is nothing I would trade it for
Oak, Spruce, Maple or Pine
The rings of our tree grow many
And an aged tree does not easily die.

II

If life is a garden
Then love is a rose
Beautiful and Breath-taking
Yet piercing is the thorn

Loves I have had
But a thorn you have been
The rose has bloomed
The rose has blossomed
But never has it been plucked
No, never plucked for my beloved’s vase
For fear of the piercing
For fear of the painful distaste
The petals fall and the rose fades
For by the prick of the thorn
Oh, by the prick I’ve been detained

III

I love the trees
And a rose is most beautiful
But as far as I can know
The two, together, do not grow
Oh, how I wish to plant them together
To enjoy the tree’s shade
And to bask in the beauty of the rose
But, oh, together they will not grow!
Some days I wish to cut the tree and plant the rose
But if it never blooms
If it never blossoms
It will take years for the tree to again grow strong

IV

Today I will plant the rose.
Although I know others will grow, you will always be the thorn.
I will plant the rose!
But when I come for the plucking
Will I be pricked by your thorn?
Pricked by your thorn to bleed to my death?
Or will I carry this rose to your vase?
Carry this rose to your vase and take away your breath?