Because the world is round it turns me on

 The Beatles once said,

‘Because the world is round
It turns me on. ‘

I wonder if life is strewn with
callus orange lotus that soothe
God’s eye, I don’t care about gods plan
-orange fucking lotus turns me on. 

A butterfly swivelling through mid-air,
Whose colours are a mystery, who suckles
my nectar, who suckles on and on
- butterflies, they turn me on.

I am made of water, I do not flow, I am still
water, yet I am not ice and I am not snow,
I am pure- find me in your
protoplasm, hang me dry and I will still breath life-
More life than your police state with population charts-
- water and words, they turn me on.

Busker was a big boy and he knew a butterfly,
who ate from his lotus garden-orange fucking lotus:
by the side of a great lake- whose scenery exaggerated
in the moonlight and who wouldn’t come near that living
beauty? Come, oh strangers with cameras! Water can wash
words but it exaggerates beauty, and who is beautiful-
the flower, the water or the butterfly?

Beauty turns me on. One day Busker
woke up and he had lost his voice: the sun
was banned, and with it everything died,
the soul died he said- there was no flower,
no water and no butterfly. And to those who
banned the sun he asked them- he asked
 time and again
‘Does death turn you on?’

He must have heard nothing, for the
dead do not speak to the living in their
language and perhaps there is no poem
without loss.