Author: nataliebotero

You broke into my home,

while I was in the middle of something.

My heart had the will of its owner.

If you’re going to surprise me, I request you come up behind me.

Because men for me are spirits in real bodies.

Must be. But for the time being, I am a loner.

 

Just have to be patient.

But I’ve got Déjà vu!

 

You did a wrong thing right.

Here’s the sad part.

When you send me a good night’s sleep

I receive a good night’s sleep

And wake up

Making wits

Jotting down cyclical thoughts

Riding a bicycle that was never lost.

Here’s the part, the plain reside

in my mind and my heart.

 

 

Listen. Maybe the doctor between the lines

Is blue blooded.

Maybe human for spirit is what’s longing

Inside us too.

I think I got that Sensitive to help me

Lift my feet.

Listen. To music, even books that soothe the soul

Are incomplete.

Only play doctor and I’ll approve.

Only there I meet you.

 

 

A hero once said to me,

Learning is vulnerability.

I think I got that Sensitive

Nothing is stupid, that is lost on me.

No questions aren’t asked enough.

I rather turn to people who are busy.

Busy with vulnerability.

 

Like The hollow husks of heroes

A hero

Only a fleeing hollow reed.

Bust the myth here.

Talk to Theresa’s mother, dear.

Because

On the safe and rumbled bed

They just respond, unwittingly

Heroes just live by alarm.

 

 

Flying with a little hand on their chest,

To open it up from its numbness

Heroes are married to their heroes too.

Tossing and turning

What a journey for that powerful power person

Yes, you’re unlimited. So what do you want to do?

Play make believe,

Because the kids will get onto it too.

Feeding the famine of safety, feeding all others

Other than you

Somebody loves a cliché.

I got to that Sensitive everyday.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am always with the Mother.

I am always within Her sight.

I stay inside Her hovel.

I pray with Her at night.

Once, at my most fatigued,

I heard Her company loudest;

My strange sorrow replaced

From a lonely wailing howl.

 

An angel, whom Mother

Sent and assigned to me before,

Re-concentrated me

To my childhood visions,

And to loving my own soul.

As a woman, a woman, the question

Came to one of being whole.

 

In the resting year, new melody

Was bestowed upon my ear

And its music changed my life.

It sang from a celestial origin,

And encouraged me to write.

 

Substantive wisp! Muse celestine!

This vision of Her Angels

Would wake me again,

When I was 19.

I remember that  fatigued and failed  year,

Walking on the wire, that the muse inspired

When she said to me,

To let shine my Authenticity.

 

All the while, burning with fire,

Soothed when I was tired,

By the chorus and the dance;

With Mother’s given melodies,

Chords of Childhood memories,

Angelic singing voices 

And transcendent chants.

 

Grounded by it suddenly.

My healing meant to last–

This Heavenly choir that first existed

In silent heavenly trance.

 

All the while,

Mother and I have been learning to dance.

 

A hummingbird peed on me,

And I got a great idea!

What if Nature’s true self

Was warm and truly happy?

I need not describe its charms or its quality.

I was blessed with this holy water,

For it outdid my humanity.

 

The depth, for that moment,

I could not capture.

This idea’s deluge hit me

Like a ton of bricks,

Though it was only a tiny splatter!

 

Ahh, the tickle of tinkle so fresh!

Excuse me if I do digress but,.

I really think the Universe

Winked at me, for

That simplest moment

From my hummingbird tease

Made me realize,

To hold onto these!

O Thank You, Sadness!
O Thank You, Grief!
O Thank You, Rainfall!
O Thank You, Breeze!
O Thank You, Loving!
O Thank You, Pause!
O Thank You, Father!
O Thank You, Ma!

O Thank You Brothers,
Seen and eternal unseen
I feel your essence
I become the Essene.
O Thank You, Spirit
O Thank You, Child,
O Thank You, Heart,
For a nature that is wild!

O Thank You, knowing
And freedom free-willed
O Thank You,  forgiveness
O Bless the Whiporwill  ( bird of forgiveness)
O Bless my small mind
Opened to its wise
Align with me your Knowledge
Alight in me Sublime!

O Cosmic Comedy
Thanks for this flowing rhyme
Thanks for the slowness
Thanks for all this Time.

O Thank You, Buddha
And the Mighty Boddhi Tree.
My mother is a classroom
My father needs a freed!

O Blessed Angels, I hear you
But sometimes you have to shout!
When I let my river flow
My tears fall quickly out!
At the end of the pool in which I wade
I see no waste in my dying.
No Love in vain is made!

An Angel’s Song

“If you only knew how much He loved you
You’d feel God’s magnitude.”
I need you, my Winged Healer
To adjust my attitude.
For all the times I did not see,
Lost within my mood
I needed your deep presence
So I could taste eternal food.

If it weren’t for you
I might not have ever tasted
The times I lost myself in grief
Was time spent in life abated
To not see you for who you are
Is time spent in the wasted.

I was blind but my heart did know
I’m blind to you
My heart did show.
I love you still
My heart doth grow

A purity and strength
A blessing and a grateful
If it weren’t for you, Winged Healer
I’d never be so abled.

Now things are easier
You cut through my onion layers.
I’m used to hiding vulnerable
I’m used to all naysayers.
When you sat with me 
In times of grief
I learned of my Soothsayer
For you, my love, an inkling of
The Life you made a saver.
A purity and strength your heart is
And I’ll transform to minstrel player!!

I’ll dance it thee
As gift to God
A devotee of the dance!
Your melody has stayed me
And humbled cocky prance.

Thank God for Grace
For opening, for a thirst
For your good knowledge
Eternal time is spent
And I go imbued with 
Your Love’s Due College. 

 

 

Oh. Glory over the bottom lip!

That I take liberties to claim

Indulging much, I conjure up this pastime

And declare this more than just a game.

But more than that. It’s mine!

Seems never before owned

Or maimed

or seen as a thing to be entwined.

Of glory, a body part unusually bruised and gory

nor abused, but enough of that story.

Unusual, drippy, red as bait. Ooh, what a nuisance. Let the table wait.

My promise of both pain and pleasure,

I can bite, so I will linger, and with my pressure

change you each time I run my fingers through your mane.

So, your bottom lip doesn’t have to leave your face,

Because I don’t want to leave it alone just now,

Just letting the dream be the aftertaste.