Home Poem by Cristobal Benjumea

my love my clouds
So soon it rains
The sun eclipsed, and you cloud are like dew, like rain
not sun, burn endlessly like my rage which i scrible here
i wanted to suport union not separation
clouds rivers meadows and sun
the theatre
A dignifieed apoteosis
worthy of the gardens of babylon
with the wisdom of fields of wheat
and excesssive caressing

i still havent propagated the most unique theatrical arrangements

meant to stimulate a most avidly intrested amoeba

i still havent searched every corner of the map that affects me

desireing to experience every sort of situation

that has feeling

sating
relating
skating sensation of a ray of starr

silable of serenadeThe crysta river

forever inspires me like operas

They lure me out of the cave

the melody enhances my mood happy memory of eden

all my desires fullfilles a walk through the flower beds

to your arch

where our bodies interlock

and please each other

with the language of flesh

the dancers encourage inspiration yearning for nirvana

smiling faces condone our dancing and exclaim the feathers float i n the wind

They admire our tender embrace

Their rapture tenses their backs half willing to join our exiliration, our rapture

I touch our lips with mine

all i want

the world is left behind i reach the peak of the mountain

I blush but the surge of extacy brings me a new planet

my tenderness is met with tendernes, you are my special friend

I hold you in great esteem

i Have held the hand of a godess

i feel i have a fortune

Her smile makes me throw gARLANDS IN THE AIR

I rediscover my emotions

filled with hope

i feel our affair increases in importance

every caress vital to the level of happyness in this palace

the foutains water shines joyfully, so begins your detective work in every cherished crevice of my garden

then we are like swamps

then like guests at the theatre

like romeo and juliet

our love for each other is the centrepiece for us of the world

we give our best our trust and loyalty, our faith protection and nurturing

to devise our new empire

of red popies

neither have i searced every face to see decribed destiny

neither have i been sated by the flesh

the flesh has pleasure our spirit runs rampant to the garden of libelulas

How we love flowers more now we hold them gently and relax on burgundy feather cushions

No more listlessness

satisfaction of the flesh and pink clouds

cryes of your my fanatical qqueen

there i us and then the rest

in order of necesity

while the flesh sleeps we hold the moon