Hover bees buzz, calms me to sleep.
Gently drink effervescent nectar.
Spread bless propagating pollen.
Send wayward tales,
swing forward my fate.
I hear staccato buzz.
Onus is no part of privilege.
Privilege defines desert.
High prance noble private parts, flog
broken faces
with terror.  Hastening dust flirts with pillaged
Conquest by dictate.
Summons a bizarre maze of disfigured mirrors.
Unaware of consequence, of karmic games,
of simple quid pro quo: A resolving into A
for Arrogance, for Anger, for Allegory.
Fallen Angels glamour dance in pinhead glee.
Ecstatic shimmy well past the veils, will to see
slim glimmer of Pan’s freedom.
Nature’s buzz, that subtle strain,
echoes shifts in drumbeat.
New Queens rise, take flight.
Brilliant skies awaken.
Assert dominance, define upcoming
plans.  Feel their confidence as
seedlings burst to touch sunlight. 

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