O’ what a beautiful morning, O’ what a beautiful day. Come inside and enjoy a new poetic play. Still wet in her birth, she may be changed as maturity sets in.
At any rate; hopefully your Psyche will win!
Freshly born of Burl’s womb, changes may be made in every room. Enjoy my friends and do not bend, to the rationalists desire to put poetry to an end.
Whistles and whipples and chirps
Could it be
No tight faced conductor to see
Over the faces
Of spontaneous reams
As independent notes perform artistic deeds
Whistles, whipples and chirps
Let there be from on high
orchestrating together one sigh
the outside from where within eternally lies
With no God nor man in charge,
We take no pointed leads
Each sound thus serves
In this conductor-less deed
A truly spontaneous fertilizing seed.
How shall it grow?
With no corporate thumb up its back
Will it surely work with no lack?
Spontaneous Joy thus…
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