Upon thy path there lie a thorn.
The beast beside it rages bloody scorn.
Little prick thee cut quite well.
Body bleeds; emotions quell.
Cut ye once thy shames on you!
Twice as much with painful rue.
Ye dare me to hold thee in thy hand?
Hence, the mark from being brand.
Begone thy thorn; behold thy beast!
Ye squeaky wheel hath been greased.
Be still my heart to think it true.
A love so tender, never knew.
Thy thorn protrudes beheaded stem.
Betwixt, beguile to find the gem.
Roads that beckon surely bend.
Perhaps a truce, needs to lend.
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Kerry Lauerman
Joan Walsh
Salon.com
Comments
`
As You Like It - No disguise. Pure.
No burlesque - Tested as fine Silver.
Sterling. Gold - True as a Thorn Rose.
`
No feign, fake -bawdry as in unkindness.
A Loving kind - a "prick" is the thorn rose.
No slang penis - not 'tongue-tied' old fool.
`
Sweetest nut hath sourest rind. Sweet too.
You a Romantic and seem rooted in Earth.
on/on . . .
I recall this:
I have these lyrics on a CD that's soothing.
`
Rosalind translates into`the "lovely rose"
I once knew an elderly woman named`Maria.
That translates to` 'little flower' She's deceased.
`
-
Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
And turn his merry note
Under the sweet bird's throat,
Come thither, come thither, come thither,
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather. (2.5-1-6
_
Then there is healthy scorn in you. Good.
`
He ...
`
If it do come to pass
that any man turn ass,
Leaving his wealth and ease
A stubborn will it please,
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame.
Here shall he see
Gross fools as he,
An if he will come to me. 2.5 44-51
`
It goes on/on with a cascade if "if's"
and
"ass"
`
( I am listening to the first morn bird)
`
... He
`
Must find love's prick, and Rosalind.
3.2 94-101
The thought in me is premature . . .
It's some stuff I'm processing ref: Life.
`
-
`
It was a lover and his lass,
With a hey and a ho, and a hey-nonny-no
That o're the green cornfield did pass
In springtime, the pretty ring-time,
When birds do sing, hey ding-a-ding-ding,
Sweet lovers love the spring.
`
The seasonal (cyclical) patterns of time . . .
`
I hope you sense this isn't flirtation, huh?
I was just going on/on and thought`howdy.
heehaw . .
Your fun . .
Be careful . . .