Don’t flatter me!–

What does it even mean–
that stuff you say?

How can I
really matter?–

Don’t shower me
with adulation!m

I’m grown up now,
ought to’ve outgrown
the need
to feel
nice ego strokes
or hear
some sorta
true cathartic ululation.

Don’t love me,
like me,
or tell me anything
too nice!!

It really doesn’t
feel quite right. . .

I wonder
+++++to find a way
+++++to let it in,
++++++++++in a receiving,
+++++++++++++++flowing, giving way,
+++++and answer back
++++++++++with heartfelt thanks
+++++++++++++++with glibbest ease
+++++++++++++++spoke in a trice,

and whether,
+++++for this
+++++I must
+++++till my next lifetime wait,

or else,
+++++if I can pass through
+++++some kind of
+++++tight-closed iron gate
+++++to a different feeling, being space
+++++in THIS incarnation.

for this baby-stepping plodder
to use
+++++in quiet meditation
+++++in boldest, bravest
+++++pioneering, far sea-faring
+++++brands of exploration.

This entry was posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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